#steven grant/you

[asimplearchivist]

‘ 𝓪 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ jake struggled to decide whether you were a blessing or a curse to the system—his personal feelings about you didn’t matter. they never had. ⤏ until they suddenly did, that is. ⤏ now he had to fix the mess he caused before he ruined everything for the two he’s trying to protect most as well as you. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader | marc spector/reader | jake lockley/reader word count ☾ 15.6k a/n ☽ ⤏ this chapter was certainly a challenge to write! I have such a particular interpretation of jake in my head influenced by such lovely headcanons and fanfics in the mk community that I had a bit of stage-fright trying to portray him with justice to my vision of him. having very little on-screen material from which to go off of certainly doesn’t help—steven and marc’s voices are so clear to me, but jake’s is a little more subtle and stepping out to develop it on my own was a little nerve-wracking because I wanted so badly to do him justice! ⤏ I also apologize that this chapter came late—I had a busy weekend on top of homework and I was wrestling with jake’s characterization. but here he is, now! let me know if y’all like how I wrote him! :) ☽ MASTERPOST ☾   ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER [TBA] ☽

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

The first time Marc had met you, officially, it had been an accident.

The first time Jake met you, it was an inevitability.

Steven and Marc were wrapped around each of your pinky fingers. Completely enamored with you. Nearly worshiped the ground that you walked on. You had lodged yourself inextricably into their gravitational pull, orbiting them as though you’d always been fixed to their collective side—present almost as often as Jake was.

Jake found it inconvenient at best. Dangerous at worst.

Because despite his near slip-up, fumbling just a bit at the suddenness of stepping in that fateful night Marc had decided to swoop in and rescue you (not that you’d really needed rescuing—you were owed credit for holding your own better than most women with whom they’d ever interacted in such scenarios), the two had not been particularly watchful for him.

Sure, they discussed it more—never around you, of course, worried that you would worry about their unease, being unable to properly identify the source of their combined blackouts. The outlier. But they were doing little else than that, and Jake had almost been concerned about them trying to draw him out by force. Biding their time, maybe. But that was fine—Jake was patient. He waited them out every other time he slipped to the front while they were unaware, save during emergencies, and this would be no different—eventually they’d drop their guard, start to doubt their suspicions, and put the idea to the back of their mind where he dwelt and he could comfortably resume his work.

…That was, provided you were removed from the equation altogether.

London loomed in the height of winter, several months later. They had gotten over themselves long enough to enter full and individual romantic relationships with you, and Jake had to admit that he had never felt either of them as happy as they were around you. Marc had loved Layla dearly, still did, and Jake knew she had been integral to keeping him steady and for some of his healing—but you were different. You were an unknown variable, and yet Marc was putting in his every effort to make it work, not looking to repeat his past mistakes in order to ensure your mutual and assured trust: you knowing the brutal nature of Marc’s past and Marc entrusting you with the intimate knowledge of it.

It had taken time, of course (an excruciatingly long period of it, in fact), but you hadn’t flinched once even when he’d told you of the blood staining his hands, both innocent and villainous, during his time as a soldier and mercenary. You had stayed, hadn’t run, hadn’t treated him like the killer he’d always convinced himself that he was. Marc had been relieved.

Jake had only grown frustrated. The situation was rapidly getting out of hand.

Because Steven’s infatuation with you was one thing. He’d had a few crushes here and there, had been laboring in the dating scene for weeks by the time Marc had inadvertently revealed himself to his alter, and Jake had even tried to help the pobrecito* catch a break once. (Jake couldn’t lie—he’d almost hoped that he could’ve caught a break, too, since Marc had left Layla high and dry and Jake had been pent up with all the mounting stress Marc had only been internalizing instead of dealing with in a somewhat healthy manner—but Steven had deserved to be doted on by a pretty woman at least once in his oblivious, lonely life, and Dylan the tour guide was a very pretty woman.) Steven was a romantic at heart, had sought a meaningful relationship more than anything for the longest, so it was to be expected that he’d eventually fall in with some unwitting little thing ignorant to the myriad problems riddling the inner depths of his psyche—that, Jake could have dealt with, hypothetically, if things had escalated to that point. A quick misunderstanding carefully orchestrated leading to a break-up would have been a simple solution, and while it would have hurt Steven greatly for a while, it would have been ultimately necessary for both the long-term safety of the system and for the security of Jake’s continued, secretive role as Khonshu’s fantoche*.

But Marc getting involved threw an entirely new wrench into the gears of Jake’s plans. Because Marc Spector operated in black or white. All or nothing. Always had and always would. Either he didn’t trust you as far as he could throw you or he’d carry you through the depths of hell barefooted on red-hot coals and have the nerve to apologize to you for stumbling on his bleeding blisters.

Marc’s trust came two-fold, also, now that he was in full cohesion with Steven—he still didn’t readily trust anyone, but if Steven did? He was sold soon after just on the principle of the matter. Steven’s judgment of character was, admittedly, as keen as any telepath’s, despite his naïveté and optimism—and Marc trusted Steven more than he trusted anyone else in the world. Even Layla. Even you.

Even Jake, though it had been entirely subconscious up until very recently.

Because he’d fought Jake the last time he’d forced himself to the front to save his life (and yours, by extension, loathe as Jake was to admit it), whereas before Jake had always managed to blindside him. It was a close call—one that Jake could not afford to make again.

And it would be so much fucking easier if you weren’t around so damn often.

Any bit of spare time the boys had that happened to coincide with yours, they were trying to see you: from snack breaks between your classes or on your shared lunch breaks to movie nights featuring home cooked meals and set tables and lit candles because you were just as much of a romantic as Steven was (God help them). You dried one bloom from every bouquet of flowers they ever brought you, keeping them all in a pitcher you used as a centerpiece more than once. You had even started packing them lunches, for Christ’s sake, with plentiful options that either Steven or Marc would enjoy depending on who ended up fronting. Even when either (or both) of you were too tired to go out on the town for a date (which happened so often Jake wondered how Marc hadn’t depleted his bank account already), the long evenings you weren’t obligated to work or study were spent cuddled up on the couch in your apartment or theirs, oblivious to the outside world as you indulged in each other’s company.

The winter brought worsening weather with it, which meant that you were spending more time at home with them. You’d even started spending the night, which was treading on Jake’s very last nerve—his one assured bastion of being able to take the body surreptitiously without Marc or Steven realizing it was put into jeopardy because while you were a heavy sleeper (almost like a fucking corpse, really—he’d had to check to make sure you were even breathing, once), you hadn’t yet gotten used to sharing a bed with someone, which resulted in you rousing slightly any time the body so much as shifted. Marc still had night terrors occasionally, and you’d never fail to comfort him back to sleep, even at the cost of your own rest.

Jake should be thankful, really, if he thought about it for too long. Marc had managed to keep sober long before he met you, but his cravings had dissipated almost entirely since you’d gently steered him towards sodas instead of beer—meaning no more black-out drunk episodes from which Jake had to nurse the body back from the brink. The body rested better with you there to anchor their unsteady mind at the times it decided to bring back the bad memories. You were feeding them better than they’d eaten since living with Layla, hearty and savory dishes that had packed a few pounds onto their lean frame, helping to negate Marc and Steven’s combined forgetfulness towards even the most basic practices of self-care. You had even started buying them groceries in thanks for the dinners they bought you, keeping their fridge and cabinets full and their personal products stocked up throughout the apartment.

You were doing the brunt of his job for him—making sure the body was taken care of and that neither of them spiraled nor regressed. He should be happy that he didn’t have to pull so much weight anymore, that he got to kick back and relax.

So why did it all piss him off so damn much?

You were pretty, he supposed. Not the most stunning bird he’d ever seen, but you were a decent pull on Steven’s part. You got along with the little nerd, and you got along with Marc—which was a feat in and of itself. You had an incredibly dry sense of humor on top of a quick tongue that drew inadvertent chuckles from even the surliest of Marc’s moods. You kept up with Steven’s intellect effortlessly, and the pair of you could talk hours upon hours on the most mundane of topics—oftentimes earning a scolding from Marc whenever the conversation would carry on past midnight (which would only make you both giggle and apologize sheepishly and rarely actually curbed your shared enthusiasm). You mediated their occasional disagreements with utmost diplomacy, always playing devil’s advocate even on their most childish of squabbles, never played favorites even when they’d playfully compete for your affections—you stood resolute in your stance of loving them equally in their own unique relationships with you.

You made them completely, perfectly, incandescently happy. That should have been enough.

It wasn’t.

Because Jake was getting…distracted.

He’d always been strictly about business—the sole reason he existed. He protected the body, no matter the cost. Now he had Khonshu to answer to, and that was difficult enough, trying to balance enough time at night to do the old bird’s bidding while Marc and Steven slept—blissfully unaware thanks to Jake’s skill in repressing them both to the work he’d been doing the last several months trying to cull out the vestiges of Harrow’s cult. 

Because of course that bastard hadn’t taken all his people with him to Cairo to hunt for Ammit’s tomb. Of course he’d left pockets of his followers scattered all over London—assured by his own success, he’d planted them there in order to divide and conquer the city once he’d freed Ammit. And of course they had to be skilled enough at hiding to require him to painstakingly construct an elaborate underground network of people keeping their ears to the ground for any signs. That’s what was taking so long to eradicate them all, and it irritated Khonshu to no end, having to sit and wait when he constantly hounded Jake to ‘execute his justice’. Jake was patient. The god of the moon was most certainly not.

Now add the stress of keeping you unaware of his goings-on? With your infuriatingly saccharine smile and fawn-like fluttering lashes and easy affection that haunted the back of his mind when he did find precious little time to front? He could hardly concentrate on prowling the streets anymore when your detergent of choice had wormed its way into the clothes he kept packed away in the back of Marc’s closet, well away from view (because you even did their laundry for them sometimes when Steven ended up working late on inventory—like a little housewife or something), the scent trapped under Khonshu’s armor nearly smothering him.

Jake knew, deep down though he’d done his best to ignore it, that his ruse would come to a head eventually—Marc was keen on his interiority now that he was no longer in denial of his issues; and Steven was, too, since Marc had let him in on all of it. Jake just didn’t anticipate having to deal with you and your unnervingly observant perception on top of it.

Ultimately it was of little surprise that the scouts for the rest of Harrow’s carroñeros* had put a flag on you, since Jake’s alters spent so much time with you in plain public view. At the very least, it had allowed for that one slippery bastard to finally be put away after somehow surviving Jake’s wrath with him ever having realized it, even if it had put you in danger. The hijo de puta* had played a calculated risk to come after you, trying to cover it up as a robbery rather than a hit to get back at the spectre picking them all off one by one—one that hadn’t paid off in the slightest. He was lucky that Jake hadn’t had the time nor privacy to do exactly what he’d wanted to—a fractured temple via blunt force trauma, hopefully with an added concussion, would have to suffice for the time being. He’d better pray that he wasn’t released anytime soon.

Especially since he’d had the audacity and the gall (and the balls) to target you. Jake wasn’t cruel enough to wish you any harm, don’t get him wrong. You hadn’t done anything wrong, necessarily, just…frustrated him to no end. They were lucky that you’d had the foresight to text them, or else that would’ve been the last that Marc or Steven would’ve ever seen of you.

Jake knew that would only have resulted in disaster.

You had crossed over the threshold of being a danger to the system to being a necessity for their safety and sanity—because if something happened to you now, Jake doubted sincerely that he would ever be able to pick up the pieces of Marc or Steven’s hearts and minds. And so Jake was forced to resolve himself to add one more individual to his list. For the betterment of the system.

Joder, pues claro.*

…It wasn’t as if he didn’t like you. He had to admit that much to himself, at least. You were pleasant enough to be around. You did tell good jokes, well thought out ones that made Jake have to think about them a little while before he got them. He appreciated how rational you were about things, rarely letting your emotions impact otherwise simple miscommunications or misunderstandings over which most women would have a conniption, choosing to talk out your problems while also being honest about how you felt rather than giving them the silent treatment or some shit—it was a necessary balance to Marc’s precarious internalizations of his own complicated feelings and his ever-present struggles to express them in a concise and healthy manner. Jake didn’t mind listening in on your tangents all that much, even if the topics didn’t interest him in the slightest—your passion and thought process kept him hooked enough, as did the dimples bordering your smile and the creases crinkling the corners of your glittering eyes. You were a damn good cook, to boot—Jake had snuck your leftovers on those late nights more often than he’d ever readily admit out loud. Neither still were you hard on the eyes.

So…yeah. If Jake found himself co-fronting, lingering in the back of the headspace well away from Marc and Steven’s reach, as Marc watched you gape at the street performer juggling flaming swords while balancing on a unicycle…that was between him and the soft smile tugging at the corners of their host’s mouth that Jake would likely have reflected despite himself.

The early evening had plunged the city into a nose-numbing one—but you’d been itching to revel in the cold, misty air and to venture out into London’s brimming nightlife with the bolstering safety you’d confessed to feeling while in their presence. The entire plaza was thrumming with music and noise and laughter, light and fire mixing to highlight the angles, curves, and planes of your disbelieving face. You were bundled up to the nines to fight the cold, still unaccustomed to the weather in contrast to the south US’ comparatively mild winters, but you refused to tuck one hand into your pocket in favor of clasping Marc’s firmly. Seated on a bench wedged so closely together that even Jake could feel the tremors in your limbs, you remained glued to his side as though to sap the warmth from the body—evidently, it wasn’t working, because you let out a shuddering breath as your teeth chattered when the performer paused to take a break. Another stepped up to take his place, and the loosely gathered crowd clapped to welcome him.

“You’re going to freeze if you don’t let me take you home,” Marc rumbled into your ear, covered by the toboggan he’d insisted you wear to spare yourself from frostbite.

“Just a little longer, honey?” you pleaded, turning your head to gaze up at him with those infuriatingly fawn-like eyes. “It’s supposed to ice over tonight and I just know I’m going to get cabin fever tomorrow.”

Marc huffed out a wry chuckle, unthreading your fingers to coil his arm around your shoulders and to tug you closer, keeping his mouth tucked close to your ear. “You’re a homebody, baby. I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble staying inside cuddled up with us for the weekend than you normally do.”

You pouted at him playfully, jutting out your bottom lip, and Marc’s gaze was fixed on it until you smoothed your expression. “All right,” you bemoaned, tilting your head away in faux dejection, “I suppose I’ll allow you to coop me up for the next couple of days…” You fluttered your lashes at him. “...as long as you promise to keep me warm, that is. Won’t you, honey?”

“As if you even had to ask.” Marc dipped his head to skim his brow against yours, peering directly into your eyes. “But that’ll require thawing you out first. It’s not getting any warmer.”

“I can think of a few ways to solve that,” you murmured, half-lidded, and slanted your mouth over his—the breath’s breadth between your lips and his was quickly stolen by Marc with a low, knowing chuckle.

Jake rolled his eyes. Metaphorically, of course. He’d even facepalm if he could. You two were hopeless—and he’d thought Steven had it bad.

Can it, Casanova, remarked the Brit as though summoned by Jake’s internal musing, she’s still shakin’.

“I know, I know,” Marc mumbled, pulling away and shaking his head at your amused expression. It had taken a while for both of them to get comfortable enough to vocalize their seemingly one-sided conversations around you, but you treated it as normally as if you could hear the third party, too. Marc patted your hip and stood, grumbling under his breath at the stiffness of his muscles, courtesy of Jake’s last bloody brawl a few nights prior—unbeknownst to either of his alters, of course. “Come on, I bought hot chocolate. We’ll start with that, and then a hot shower.”

You gasped in delight, lurching up to your feet and latching onto his hand once more. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?” you demanded, tugging eagerly at his arm toward the direction of the bus stop. “You could’ve gotten me home hours ago!”

“I wasn’t going to stop you from enjoying all this,” Marc returned, allowing you to guide him in the wrong direction only to see the excited sway of your hips. His eyes cut over the plaza on reflex, but locked onto a couple of guys lingering near the fountain that started to move in the same direction at the same time. His brow furrowed. “Let’s take a shortcut—don’t want to miss the bus.”

He folded your hand over the crook of his arm instead, winding his way through the crowd in an attempt to lose his tail. Jake could feel Marc’s mind crowding with alarm—who they could be, what they would be doing, which group he had once pissed off that now had decided to try to ruin his night—and he edged just a touch closer to the front to peer through Marc’s periphery.

Ah, yes. The bastard with the scar that had come after you had a handful of lackeys, and these cabrónes* were two of them. Twins, big and ginger and mean as hell. Marc was none the wiser to the reason why they were after the body, however—no recognition passed through his racing thoughts—and Jake inwardly cursed.

Steven noticed Marc’s growing apprehension, likewise. What’s wrong, Marc?

“Nothing,” he muttered, causing you to glance up at him questioningly.

“Everything okay?” you asked quietly, glancing around the thinning people as Marc herded you towards the end of the plaza where it was quiet and dark. He ushered you into a narrow alleyway that broke out onto the main street, and while your brow was furrowed, you followed him without resistance. “We haven’t gone this way before.”

“We’re being followed,” he muttered to you, glancing over his shoulder towards the retreating lights. “Remember what I’ve told you?”

Your expression morphed from shock to grave in an instant. It was a discussion Marc had reiterated multiple times—being in a relationship with a wanted man always entailed a certain amount of danger, and Marc had hammered emergency protocol into your head in the event that something like this ever happened. He had hoped that it wouldn’t, for your sake, and the fact that you were schooling any signs of fear in all but your eyes only reinforced the reason why Jake hadn’t wanted you involved at all in the first place.

Jake pressed in closer. Marc’s ears were straining in lieu of ample light, eyes trained on the end of the alleyway—which became shadowed as another pair of silhouettes hemmed the both of you in.

Marc, Steven breathed, tone tight with worry, what now?

“Fuck,” Marc hissed, jerking you against his chest. He whipped around to dart back out from whence you’d come, but the twins had caught up. Heart pounding, he cupped a hand around your head and whispered urgently, “I’m going to take these guys down first so you can run back to the plaza where it’s lit and there’s other people. Call the cops and stick with a group and do not go anywhere by yourself, all right? Not until I come get you.”

Your hands were vices around the collar of his jacket, eyes shining in the dim. Your voice quivered. “Marc, I am not leaving you here alone.”

His fingers tightened around your shoulders. Their footsteps were picking up in speed from both directions, echoing off the dampened brick. “We talked about this—you promised you’d listen to me,” he growled. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. Us. We’ve faced worse odds.”

“What if—” you started, but didn’t have enough time to finish.

Marc shoved you behind him as the first giant reached out with mitts for hands towards you. Marc latched onto the bulky limb, twisting his wrist and pinning him onto the concrete in seconds. He pressed and jerked and the unfortunate soul’s arm popped out of place—a wet, skin-crawling pop that resonated far more loudly off the narrow walls than it should have. The man cried out in pain.

“Marc!” you gasped.

Jake leaned in as Marc took a blow to the side of the head—the other twin’s paw clapped against his ear and sent him careening into the wall, discombobulated as his hearing rang like a siren. His shaken equilibrium buckled his knees, but he pushed himself upright to land a series of resounding punches along the brute’s side and back, targeting the sensitive places sure to bruise at the very least. The ribs gave under the combination of Marc’s strength and expertise, and like a tree the second twin was felled with a well-timed hook to the chin.

“Go!” Marc snapped over the ringing in his ears, hooking a hand around your waist and shoving you in the direction of the exit between the two groaning gingers. “Get out of here!”

You turned back to look at him, utterly terrified. “But—!”

“Damn it, baby, please just—”

The latter pair of cultists didn’t give him as ample a warning as the former—and they were smart enough to pull the guns from their holsters rather than rely on their hands. The shot flashed like lightning, muffled by its silencer.

Marc staggered back, the burning in his side stealing the breath from his lungs. The tinnitus increased twofold, to the point that your startled shout was drowned out entirely. The pounding of their pulse roared in their ears, and Jake thought he heard Steven hollering over the din trapped in their head.

Marc’s control slipped in his shock and pain. Steven grappled for it in terror wholly driven to protect you. Jake seized the opportunity and yanked them both back into the headspace to block them off as he lunged forward—so suddenly that the body folded in half  from the strain. His knees buckled and his shoulder struck the brick, jarring him.

“This is the guy that’s been giving us so much trouble?” gloated one of them. “All it takes is one bullet?”

“We’ve shot this one more than a dozen times and it’s never stopped him before,” the other said warily. “Where’s all that get-up?”

Jake muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth as he closed his eyes and concentrated.

“What’s that?” crooned the fool, gesturing lackadaisically towards him with the smoldering muzzle. “Have something to say before we rid the world of your chaos, asshole?”

“Sí.” The avatar raised his head, glowing eyes casting his assailants' suddenly wan, fallen countenances in a spectral hue. “Dije,” he growled as the familiar ragged bandages coiled around his limbs while he straightened to his full height, “te vas a arrepentir, pendejos.*”

The bullet clinked against the damp asphalt as he was fully enveloped in the armor.

“Ah, shit,” they said in unison.

The shock on their faces precluded the terror that followed his swift movement. The crescents whistled as he slung them in their direction—the cocky one caught it in the throat, plunging through his jugular. Blood splattered in a wide arc against the ground as he fell. The cautious one managed to tumble to the side to avoid it, however—just barely.

A heavy hand grabbed his padded shoulder and whirled Jake around—only to be struck across the temple with an errant piece of pipe. Mierda. The twins were back up on their feet, tag-teaming to make up for their missing mobility.

Jake jerked his head back to avoid another swing, summoning a truncheon from the small of his back and shattered the first’s wrist with a well-timed parry. Two more strikes upon the man’s solar plexus and skull sent him crumpling to the ground, totally unconscious at the very least. Two to go.

He didn’t have time to pause. The gunman fired thrice at his back, but the slugs passed right through him. Jake exchanged blows with the twin for a moment, finally propelling himself off the brick wall and swinging over the expanse of his mountainous shoulders to lock and twist his neck between his knees and bring the behemoth crashing down face-first. He didn’t move again even as Jake leapt back to his feet and pitched another array of darts at the gunman’s retreating back. Sliced flesh, a gurgled curse, and the clatter of metal preceded the heavy tumble of his body.

Jake stalked further into the shadows, tucking the truncheon back into its holster and flexing his fists. He grabbed the collar of the gunman’s jacket and hoisted him upright, pinning him to the wall with his forearm against his throat. Blood dribbled from the corners of the man’s mouth onto the woven gauntlet.

“Tell me where the rest of your amigos* are and I’ll consider letting you go,” he growled.

“Funny,” the man spat viciously onto Jake’s mask near his shielded eyes, “how you think I’ll talk after you murdered them!”

“Just like you attacked a bunch of innocent kids, yeah?” Jake snarled. “Said their scales wouldn’t balance just ‘cause they were picking on someone else? Even though your fucking goddess is dead and you don’t even have the power to read a single palm? Child murder isn’t going to get you where you’re wanting to end up, pendejo, and a little bullying isn’t enough to condone ritual execution!”

The gunman roared and tried to grapple with him, but Jake only pinned his wrists into the mortar with a dart over his head before jabbing him in the ribs. He only noticed the panic button clasped between his fingers once the indicator began to blink a rapid crimson.

“Mierda,” Jake hissed, clocking his elbow across the bastard’s face and snatching the device once he slumped over. He dropped and smashed it with his heel, grinding it into bits.

“...Baby?”

Jake stiffened, head whipping towards the sound of your small voice. You had cowered against the wall, plunged mostly in shadow, but your hunched shoulders and quick breaths fogging against the shafts of light that the street lamp at his back cast tipped off your apprehension. He didn’t have time to react, save to open his mouth, before the distant squeal of brakes, the heavy slam of vehicle doors, shouting, and rapid footsteps at the far end of the alley interrupted him. 

He marched over to you, the armor receding with every step. He glimpsed your eyes in the dark, round and anxious, even as he gripped your arm and tugged you in the opposite direction. “Come on,” he muttered gruffly. “Better scram.”

“What’s wrong?” you breathed instead, resisting him. You were sturdy, he had to give you that, even as the heels of your boots skidded against the rain-slickened pavement.

“Other than having a bunch of madmen with guns on our tails? Nothing at all.” He pulled a bit more forcefully this time. “Let’s go.”

Your protesting noise was drowned out by an ear-ringing report of a gun, and the air near Jake’s ear whistled with the near miss of a bullet. It ricocheted off the brick and had mortar showering the ground.

“Por el amor de Dios,” Jake hissed. “Corres, chaparrita!*”

He pulled you along behind him into a full sprint. The pair of you broke out of the alley towards the crowded plaza once more. You stumbled a couple of times on the uneven concrete due to the awkward mobility afforded by Jake’s unforgiving grip on your wrist, but he was not going to let you go for fear of you falling behind and getting snatched or worse. His scowl and speed drew bemused glances from the bystanders, but their expressions morphed into shock when their eyes passed over his shoulders.

So the bastards were pissed (or desperate) enough to give chase in broad moonlight. They had balls, he had to give them that—and while it made them stupid, it didn’t make them any less dangerous.

He headed towards the far side where the plaza merged onto the main road littered with vendors on the broad sidewalks. People buzzed along the blocked off street—for the entire event would last all weekend and force all the normal goers to circumnavigate the grounds—in tight throngs, along which he had no doubt he could lose the zealots. The tactic has served him well countless times before—and not just in London, or while under Khonshu’s directive. Merging and camouflaging with oblivious civilians and letting one’s hunters pass one by altogether often worked better than trying to outrun them or to hide outright.

The gateway was narrow, and Jake shoved a man twice his size out of his way to hook a sharp left. The man’s curses were drowned out by your profuse, breathless apologies, and Jake growled out a tense, “Callate!*” before narrowly dodging a street lamp since he’d cast a glare over his shoulder at you.

People’s attention only grew as the street funneled into a narrow crosswalk connecting to a broader street. Jake hooked a right that time, darting past families and couples as he went. You were keeping up with him surprisingly well, but your panting was getting too loud—your stamina would give out soon. He had to figure out a way to blend the both of you in without drawing attention so the zealots would go on and he could double back to lose them completely.

Another right at the end of the block revealed another market street, though the middle was undulating with dancing couples as a busking band was playing a lively, energetic tune.

“Mierda,” he growled, “las cosas que hago por vosotros, hermanos.*”

Jake hauled you to a brisk walk instead, melting into the ring of onlookers clapping along with raucous chatter and laughter. They would provide good enough cover, but Jake knew he could show neither of your faces or else the ruse would be for naught. That necessitated unbearably close proximity with the bane of his existence for the last few months—and you had clocked him instantly. It wouldn’t fly for long.

Jake broke through the wall of people nearest the booths, thankful for the partial shadow that would aid to your obscurement. He hastily tugged the collar of Marc’s jacket up, ruffled his fingers through their hair to conceal the majority of their upper features, and hooked an arm around the middle of your back to tug you against his chest. You scarcely caught yourself on his shoulders to keep your nose from bashing into his sternum. With his free hand he pulled the toboggan from your head and stuffed it into your pocket before tugging the back of your scarf up the back of your head and over your forehead, overlapping the tails to cover your chin and mouth—which opened as your brows furrowed in protest.

Jake ducked his head, pressing his lips against your covered ear. “If you want to live long enough to see the end of the night,” he hissed, hands slipping to your waist and beginning to sway you in time with the music, “you’ll do exactly as I do. Me entiendes?*”

You pursed your lips, but the indignant flare behind your eyes didn’t flicker once—even as exclamations of shock caught his attention. Jake pulled you further back into the shadows, but to his luck a couple of other dancers swung between the pair of you and the zealots squinting down the street for any sign. 

Jake began to match the others’ movements to appear more natural, the quick tempo dictating the shuffle of his feet—forward, scuffle, back, ad nauseam, faster than he could breathe. He could hardly concentrate on that as well at the moment, unfortunately, given he hadn’t danced in years.

You were hot under your clothes from the running spree, seeping through yours and his shared layers where the weight of your torso was pressed tightly against his. He kept his face tucked close to the sweep of your neck and shoulder, angling his broad shoulders towards them, winding carefully behind more and more couples while keeping careful rhythm. Your panting came harsh and high next to his ear, your breath warming his chilled shell and lobe. Your hands slipped from his shoulders to rest more convincingly on his chest, a firm press to keep your balance. 

Although you didn’t seem to know all the specific steps to this dance, you were obviously familiar with the form and rhythm of it. You were a natural, the shimmy of your hips almost smoother than his own—you didn’t stumble once, light on your feet as you (reluctantly) allowed him to guide you without a single glance behind you to confirm he wasn’t about to walk you into a wall or another person. No, your eyes stayed fixed on what you could see of his face the entire time, forehead perspiring and cheeks darkened from exertion, mouth slightly agape to pull in much-needed air. You were studying him, it seemed like, scanning his features as though dissecting every crease and stretch. 

Jake didn’t like it, not one bit. You already knew too much—the last thing he needed was you committing any of him to memory.

Instead of stopping, the band shifted into an entirely new song with a different beat altogether, but when Jake adapted to it, you did so, too—seamlessly, in fact, perfectly in tune to the body’s movements. (Ew. He didn’t need to think about that shit.) The two of you were so close that your knees would have knocked together if your feet weren’t offset. You were used to it, to him, even though you’d only learned the body while the others were using it. You knew him, even though he was a stranger.

Shit, shit, shit. He was so fucked.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of Marc’s sweatshirt over his thrumming heart, anchoring yourself as the tension finally drained from your form—he felt it before he saw it, watching your shoulders loosen as you lost yourself to the music. You almost seemed to be enjoying it, and Jake almost lamented the fact that you were only able to indulge in it under these very dire circumstances. 

Almost.

“Are they gone?” you ventured breathlessly, chin brushing against his clavicle as you tilted your head forward so he’d hear your low tone that caused each hair on the nape of his neck to stand on end.

Jake blinked, then looked back up to the street corner with a deep-set frown. “Me distraiste jodidamente,*” he growled under his breath, shoving the visceral image of your chapped lips to the very back of his mind. “Yes, they’re gone.”

Your expression relaxed, then, into one of relief. The song tapered into an end, allowing both the dancers and the musicians a breather, and Jake finally peeled himself away from you as though your warmth had scorched him. He grasped your elbow again, tugging you through a narrow passage between booths to the mouth of a quiet side street with outdoor diners clustered around tables set out despite the weather.

He expected questions. He expected you to demand answers, like any other person in your situation would. ‘Who were they? Why were they trying to hurt me? Who the hell are you and why are you not Marc or Steven?’

He did not expect, however, for you to drop your gaze to his abdomen and to fish your hand under Marc’s jacket. He flinched back, but you’d already hooked a finger into the hole torn into the sticky, blood-soaked material of Marc’s shirt, fingertip grazing the smooth, whole flesh underneath and searing your fingerprint there in the process. He pushed your hand away, taking a half step back to distance himself from the mix of concern and confusion in your eyes.

“Are you hurt?” you asked him quietly, not venturing further into his personal space (to his relief).

Jake clamped his jaw shut and shook his head.

You hesitated. “What’s…what’s your name?”

Fuck his lack of luck, honestly. He half-turned away so he wouldn’t have to look at you.

“...Thank you for saving me.”

He scoffed under his breath. “If you’d kept your promise to Marc in the first place, I wouldn’t have had to.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Your tone instantly sharpened with indignation. “I know what I promised him, but he—you got fucking shot! I wasn’t about to leave you to die!”

“Wouldn’t have died. Just a scratch,” he groused, contorting and tugging the hem of the shirt up to show you the unblemished skin there, smeared with tacky blood against his knuckles. “See? Missed.”

“They did not miss,” you told him matter-of-factly. “I saw Marc fall. There’s fucking blood all over you—I’m not stupid. Do not lie to me.” You stepped closer, then, pointing that same bloodied finger at him and poking him in the sternum. He bared his teeth at you, cornered with the alley wall at his back. “All that back there was something that you’ve got going on, wasn’t it? Marc hasn’t told me about anything like this.”

You were too goddamn smart for your own fucking good. “There’s a lot that Marc hasn’t told you,” he growled, “and for good reason.”

Your eyes flashed. “And I bet you’re the authority on all of that, aren’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

“I’ve noticed them being vigilant lately, but they won’t tell me what’s bothering them. Lots of private conversations—and no, don’t look at me like that, I didn’t listen in on them—and they get anxious when they’re tired or spacey. It doesn’t take rocket science to figure out why they’ve been walking on eggshells ever since you popped up in the coffee shop that night—”

Jake’s jaw dropped open. Things were rapidly escalating out of hand, faster than he could hold them together. “How on earth do you—?”

“Marc is many things,” you said lowly, “but he is not a man who glorifies in violence. It bothers him still to touch me on his bad days, much less brushing up against a stranger. He wouldn’t smirk when he knocks someone out cold—with the pommel of a knife, no less. Neither would Steven, for that matter.”

Jake squared his shoulders and folded his arms over his chest to brush your hand away, glowering down at you. “Why haven’t you said anything to them?”

“Because they haven’t brought it up. I don’t push them for answers that they don’t want to give me. I know it’s already hard enough for them to be open to communicating their thoughts and feelings between themselves—I don’t want to pressure them any more by adding myself to the mix.” You jutted your chin. “But if you’re going to keep putting them in danger, you need to let them know what’s going on so they don’t get caught off-guard again.”

“You need to keep your nose out of my business and let me do my goddamn job,” he ground out.

“It becomes my business when both of our lives get put on the line!” you returned. “And what exactly is your job, huh? Circus performer with a specialty in knives?” You tugged on the hem of the jacket, ignoring how he went rigid. “Where do you keep that costume so they don’t realize they’re wearing it, too, by the way? Because I know for a fact that Steven would’ve mentioned cosplaying as the fucking Mummy if he knew about—”

He gritted his teeth. “It’s not a costume.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” You raised a haughty brow. “Do they know you’re running around like an albino version of London’s Daredevil?”

He was not about to explain all of Khonshu’s business to you. You knew too much already, and if Marc and/or Steven even caught wind of the old bird still hanging around, Jake was done for. “They don’t know about me for a reason, chaparrita, and I’d like to keep it that way. They can’t know about me—it’s better for all of us in the long run—so if you’d very kindly just keep your trap shut—”

“You have to tell them about you,” you told him firmly, eyes blazing, “and about whatever vigilante shit you’ve got going on. It’s not fair to them—they think they’re free from Marc’s old merc work, and here you are using the body against their consent to do whatever it is that you please. Do you realize how much danger you’re putting them in carrying on with shit like this?”

“I am protecting them,” he bit back, a snarl building in the back of his throat.

“By getting them ambushed in a fucking alley?” you snapped. “Your involvement in this could’ve gotten all three of you killed!”

“That costume is the only thing that can keep them alive through anything!” Jake returned sharply. “They would’ve been fine!”

“And what about me?” you demanded. “What about my safety? I know I chose my lot once Marc told me about his past, but this is adding a whole new level to all this that I wasn’t prepared for! What if you hadn’t been there, lingering in the background, or—or however you knew to step in? Do I need to live my life looking over my shoulder just in case there’s someone tailing me, waiting to catch me off-guard long enough to hurt me to get to them thinking they’re you? How do you think they’d react if something happened to me out of the blue, just by my being around them and whoever it is you’re fighting, thinking you’re the same person because you share the same face? Even then, they’d try to get to the bottom of it, and they could get shot, or stabbed, or—or whatever, just by trying to clean up your fucking mess!”

“If you weren’t around being seen with our face in the first place, you wouldn’t be involved to start with,” he growled, “and I wouldn’t have to concern myself with keeping you out of harm’s way all the time! You’re a liability to them—if something happened to you, they’d lose their shit, and I can’t have that happen. You’re as much of a danger to their wellbeing as these fucking cabrónes are!”

You retreated then, hurt flashing across your features so fast he almost missed it, before you schooled your expression into something frigid enough that it sent a chill down Jake’s spine. You floundered for words, lips moving without a sound, and Jake’s fuse shortened by the second. You swallowed, then, and roughly tipped your chin up—in defiance, certainly, but Jake didn’t miss the shine of moisture welling along your lash line. “…Do they feel that way, since you do?” you finally ventured. “Somewhere deep down? That I’m just a burden to them?”

“No,” he sighed, tucking his head and scrubbing his hand down his face. “There’s not a thing in this fucking world that they wouldn’t do for you, chaparrita, or kill themselves by trying. That’s the problem. That’s what makes you so dangerous. They care about you far too much.”

“And you don’t, I take it?” you supposed tightly. “Is that your job? Not to care?”

Jake ground his jaw so tightly his temples throbbed. “Don’t put words in my fucking mouth.”

“Then tell me why, exactly, you’re so hellbent on hiding yourself from them when they’re already trying so goddamn hard to heal and work together? What gives you the right to opt out and do whatever you damn well please, spilling more blood on their hands at the same time they’re trying to wash them clean?”

“There’s nothing special about me,” he bit out, “and they don’t need me—because if they knew what I’ve had to do to keep them alive they’d never forgive themselves!” Your brows twitched up, and Jake snarled under his breath. “Mierda. Just stay out of my fucking business, will you? The less you know, the better. And do not tell them about this, or about me, me entiendes?”

“I am not going to lie to Marc or Steven, and it’s stupid of you to think that I would,” you told him resolutely. “Either you tell them, or I will.”

“Did you miss all of what I just fucking said?” he spat. “If they know about me, it’ll do far more harm than good. They have a hard enough time reconciling what they’ve gone through, I don’t need to add all my shit to it!”

“You’ve helped them survive what they’ve gone through,” you pointed out, and Jake’s breath stopped short. “I’m not stupid, despite what you may think. I can tell even now that your primary concern is their well-being. But don’t you think telling them that you’re here, and that you’re a—a what, a superhero?—wouldn’t that be better than keeping them in the dark?”

“I am not a hero, chaparrita,” he told you darkly.

“Well, you’re certainly not a villain,” you responded evenly—as if you were stating fact.

Jake scowled. “Did they tell you what happened in Egypt? What really happened?”

Your eyes flashed. “They don’t have to, it’s not really any of my business. I know it was hard on them and they don’t like to talk about—”

“We got shot. Twice. We died! And it was only that armor that brought us back!” Jake flashed his teeth. “Marc let the bastard that did it go, but I killed him. That’s the difference between Marc or Steven and I, chaparrita: I hurt those who deserve it and feel no remorse for it.”

You blinked, then, eyes rounded. Realization dawned behind your gaze, and when you looked sharply off to the side, a stray tear slipped over the curve of your cheek. Your expression tightened, and Jake could imagine that you were finally putting together all the fragments of what Steven and Marc had mentioned offhandedly about their time in Egypt.

Jake squeezed his eyes shut, sinking against the wall and dropping his head back against the brick. He dragged a hand down his face with a harsh sigh. He’d completely fumbled this entire situation. “...Mira.* If something were to happen to you, mis hermanos* won’t take it well.” He looked down at you, eyes half-lidded—meeting fire with fire obviously didn’t work with you. Even when Marc was being surly, you only listened when he stopped and lowered his voice. It didn’t take rocket science to figure out that you shut down when you were shouted at, based on the way you’d stared at him like a doe caught in headlights. “...Do you really care about them?”

Your head recoiled to stare at him critically. The vessels in your sclera were an agitated crimson. “Of course I do!”

“Then you’ll listen to me, all right?” He straightened and stepped closer, fingers flexing at his side while he repressed the urge to reach out to you. Seeing you upset was doing funny shit to him. (He didn’t like it. Not one bit.) “After what happened tonight, I can’t afford to wait any longer. I need to finish up my business as soon as possible—I spent too long investigating and biding my time to see when those guys would crawl out of their nest. They are dangerous, and I’m going to do my damnedest to tie up all those loose ends. All right? That means I can’t have you caught in the crossfire. And once I get done with that…” He shook his head, casting his eyes upwards briefly. “...then we’ll talk—you know, about…everything else. Do you understand?”

You glared at him for a long moment, lips pursed as you considered him. Finally, you nodded curtly, once.

He raised a brow. “Can you say it for me?”

Your temples flexed. “Yeah. I understand.”

“Buena nena.*” He peered around the corner just to ensure that the zealots hadn’t doubled back, then moved to the edge of the street and flagged down a cab. When they stopped, he gestured you over. You watched him warily all the while, glancing both ways. He reached for the door and grasped the handle, but you laid your hand over his. He froze.

“Please,” you murmured, pleading him with your gaze, “be careful. Keep taking care of them. Let me know if…if you need any help. If there’s anything I can do...” You squeezed his hand, then let it go. “I’d prefer you three to come back in one piece, you know.”

He swallowed roughly, then nodded. He opened the door, and as you stooped to climb inside, his hand curved around the back of your head. You glanced up at him in surprise, but once you were seated, he abruptly retracted his touch.

“I’m trusting you,” you told him. “I don’t want this to be the last time we meet.”

Jake gave you a rueful, wooden smile. “If you’re lucky, cariño*, you won’t ever have to see me again.”

He shut the door, waved off the driver, and shoved his hands into the pockets of Marc’s jacket. He watched the cab round the corner out of sight, closing his eyes briefly, and turned to start walking in the opposite direction.

Read the rest of the chapter here! :)

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

The Boy with the Thorn in his Side

Part 2

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 3747

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites

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

“But-”

The line went dead.

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

“Hi!” 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry b-”

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

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

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

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

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

“Blue jacket? Stupid white trainers?” 

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

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

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

Tightness gripped at your throat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a pause before he spoke again.

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

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

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

You and Steven spoke at the same time.

“Oh, I-”

“Erm,”

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

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

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

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

“Shit.”

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

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

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

“First date?” 

He nodded, his mouth dry.

“You could always try again?”

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded briskly and walked away.

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

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

You shook your head.

“Been wasting his time.” 

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

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

Okay that was not the reaction you were expecting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You both laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” Relief flushed through your veins.

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

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

“I am literally talking too much again.”

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

Steven smiled. “Me too.”

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

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

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

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

“Here.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah,” he shook his head.

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

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

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

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

The waiter cleared his throat while tidying another table.

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

“Yeah.” You chuckled a little before nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m guessing you're on this side.”

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

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.” 

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

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

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

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

Steven clocks your expression. “Your bus?” 

“Yeah,” you said uncertainty. 

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

The bus pulled in and opened its doors.

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

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

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

“Is someone getting on?” The driver asked.

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

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

“Steven-”

“I can’t eat them, cow’s milk.”

“I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[loki-hargreeves]

Only Fools Rush In

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

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

YOUR POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to talk about it?”

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

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

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

“Well, at least that’s over now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did he have any idea what he did to you?

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

Did that just happen?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I’m on my way. See you in a bit!’ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Convinced now?”

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

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

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

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

[moon-kn1ght]

guilty pleasure.

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader wc: 2.3k warnings: dark fic, yandere!steven grant, non con voyuerism, mutual masturbation, stalking sort of, dead dove do not eat. a/n: sorry for this, but i couldn't get it out of my head any other way.

Steven Grant had a crush. Well maybe, it was more than that. Maybe it was a fascination. Almost an obsession. 

He’d ask Donna to schedule him on days that he knew you were working. He’d hang around his friend in the security office so he could watch the cameras as you entered the building. You never noticed the happenstance ways Steven would always bump into you as you entered, somehow he’d always be there. Maybe you did notice it but you chose to ignore it. 

Steven didn’t have the courage to ask you out, though. Even after the whole discovering he’s a superhero thing. He knew that Marc and Layla wouldn’t want another person around — they were content with just the three of you. 

But Steven wasn’t. Not quite. 

So he resigned himself to watching.

He tried to keep his distance. He didn’t want to form an attachment that he’d never be able to act on. 

He’d watch your museum tours from the paned glass of the soft shop. He’d see the way your smile would radiate warmth to the schools groups that you brought around, engaging students and chaperones alike. 

And he couldn’t ignore the looks you go from teachers and chaperones — the way their eyes would track up down your body, their gaze burning past your clothes to imagine the breasts and ass that lie underneath your modest layers. 

Sometimes, the more daring adults would try and ask you out after the tours. They’d linger and lean against the wall, caging your body in from their looming presence. You’d shrink but stand firm, “I’m very flattered, but no thank you.” When they’d insist you’d pull the “I have a boyfriend —“ line. 

“Which is a lie,” Steven would remind himself. 

There’s this low frustration always simmering inside Steven — this ache that consumes him when he thinks too hard about he can’t have you. 

But the frustration grows into a low rage when he sees these other men hitting on you, asking you out, and not taking no for an answer. 

“Why can’t I deliver justice to these creeps?” Steven will ask Khonshu. “She needs me to protect her.” 

Khonshu doesn’t gratify him with a response. 

— 

Steven knows he’s breaking all of his own rules following you home. 

But he’s not doing it for himself — it’s to protect you, which is what his rules are for in the first place. “So it’s okay to break them,” he’ll reason. 

Today, the creep asking you out wasn’t taking no for an answer. He even put his hand on your shoulder. So you threatened to call security on him. 

“Fucking cunt,” he spat at you.

Steven saw the whole thing from the glass walls of the gift shop. You seemed way more shaken than you usually were after encounters of the like. 

“Hey, all you alright? I’m so sorry you had to deal with that twat.” 

Your disposition softened when you turned and saw Steven. “Oh hi. Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“That guy seemed like a real arse. You handled it admirably.” 

You forced a small laugh, “Yeah, he was. Dudes like him are just getting more and more gall. Ugh, it’s so frustrating.” 

“You’re telling me,” Steven whispers under his breath. “We need to get you one of those old folks ‘help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!’ buttons — then you can press and summon a friend whenever you’re dealing with someone like that.” 

Your smile was starting to reappear. 

“—well not to say that you can’t handle it on your own. I mean, I’m just ..” 

“Steven, yes I get what you mean.” 

“—what I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t have to always having to be dealing with it on your own. You deserve a friend to help, whenever you want it.” 

“Thank you Steven, that’s a very kind thought.” 

There’s something about the way you say Steven’s name. It’s different than everyone else in the museum and even different from how Marc and Layla say it. There’s a saccharine sweetness that drips from your pronunciation of the ’S’ and the way the ‘v’ vibrates from your closed lips. 

When you say his name he can’t help but stare at your lips. 

(And sometimes he imagines how it would sound to hear you saying his name as you came around his fingers or his cock). 

“It’s the end of my shift, I could walk you home? In case there’s someone lurking in the night.” 

You smile but turn him down, “I’m a big girl Steven, I’ll be fine. I promise.” You reach out and squeeze his hand. The small gesture sends a shiver down his spine.

He lets you turn and walk off. His feet stay glued to the tile as he watches you head to the back room and clock out. 

Maybe it’s his imagination but Steven could swear that he feels eyes boring into him. Eyes that track you, just as he did. Eyes that probably belong to some unsavory creep. 

“Fuck it,” Steven mumbles to himself as he punches his timecard back in the gift shop. He catches sight out you heading out front door and follows, tailing at a safe distance. 

You don’t notice him on the underground train. He sits on the other side of the car and watches you not look up from your smartphone even once during the 8-stop journey. “Quite dangerous, not being aware of your surroundings,” he thinks. 

He tracks your movements from a half a block back as you walk down the street. For as much time Steven has spent watching you at the museum, he never noticed how graceful your long strides looked. In the dim light of the street lamps your silhouette is cast beautifully. To Steven, you look like the subject of an expensive painting. 

Part of Steven knows that he should turn and walk home when you open the door to your building. But the other part of him keeps him still, standing in the shadows. 

There’s a fire escape on the front of the building. With a little Mr. Knight action, he’s quickly up on the second floor of your flat, white suit pressed against the brick of the building exterior. 

“Now I’m beginning to regret the reflective qualities of this white suit..” he mumbles. But his attention is quickly diverted when the light of your flat turns on. He can see you in the kitchen pouring yourself a rather large glass of wine. You sink into the velvet of your couch and Steven can see the reflection of the Netflix logo in a framed piece of art on the opposite wall from your tele. 

Sitting down with his back still pressed against the brick, Steven imagines being curled up with you on that couch. Your head would rest against his shoulder and he could stroke your hair or let his hands roam your body. You probably have great takes on this season of “Love is Blind” that could share with Steven as he peppers kisses all over your neck. 

In this perfect scenario, you’d be pleased when Steven gets hard in his pants as you whisper sweet nothings to him. You’d gladly take his cock in your hand or mouth and help him find his release. And it would be soft and warm and lovely, much better than his own hand could ever feel. 

Steven can feel a boner forming uncomfortably in his pants as he imagines this. “Fuck. Now is not the time for this to be happening.” 

He shifts awkwardly in his tight pants as his eyes track you downing the glass of wine and getting ready for bed. 

Your bed is much too large for one person. Your body looks so small enclosed in my all the pillows and the larger comforter. It must be warm in your flat because it seems like the moment your breathing slows down and you fall asleep, your legs kick off the comforter. Steven isn’t complaining though, because it reveals a nice view of your bare legs. The small nightgown you’re sleeping in rides up your hips and you settle into sleep. If he were only a little closer, Steven could tell whether or not you’re wearing underwear. 

“What the fuck am I doing? What the actual fuck?” 

Guilt crashes in waves over Steven’s consciousness. He’s followed a girl home and watched her from the window. He’s a fucking creep. There’s no other word for it. 

But still, even through these ugly feelings of guilt, Steven wants more. He’s so fucking close. Steven wants to smell you. He wants to touch you. It’s fucking overwhelming how much he wants it. 

His gloved fingers grip the edge of the window and press up. The window opens with a deafening creak. 

He’s done for. 

Your body stirs but your breathing remains steady and slow. 

Steven lets out a deep breath. 

He crouches and enters your bedroom, his white shoes making muffled noises as the press into the ornate rug covering the floor. As he takes it in, he’s overwhelmed with the scent of you that fills the air. It’s warm and lovely and perfect, just like you. 

You lie at an angle across the bed. Your face looks delicate and so unbothered against your pillow. Everything is so still. Your lower body has twisted its way out of the confines of your bedding and as Steven stalks closer, his heart about stops when he sees that you’re not wearing panties. 

Right in front of him, right in front of his very eyes is your pussy. He can’t help but gape, open-mouthed. 

There’s nothing more that he wants than to bury his nose between your thighs right now and get a taste of the deliciousness that you are undoubtably hiding inside your folds. But that would for sure wake you. And he can’t have that. 

Steven leans against your bed, careful to not shift the weight of your body. 

Taking a risk, he reaches forward and pushes your nightgown up further on your hips, revealing the full beauty of your ass. 

His cock is already leaking precum, trapped untouched in his pants. 

He lets his fingers graze lightly against your skin. Goosebumps form where they trail but you remain deep asleep. His finger traces down your ass and just barely touches your folds. Steven thinks that they’re the softest things he’s ever felt. 

Suddenly, a stale breeze blows in through the window. 

Khonshu. 

“I always you were going to be a pervert, worm.” 

“Why are you here?” 

“Isn’t your duty to protect to the travelers of the night?” 

“You didn’t answer my question Old Bird.” 

“What do you call this?” 

“Stop.” 

“Is this what you call protecting?” 

“Khonshu, stop.” 

“Oh worm, this is just too perfect.” 

Khonshu stalks around the room, looming across from Steven pressed against the bed. With him, stale air rolls across the room. 

“Don’t mind me, I’ll be here.” 

“Who’s the pervert now?” 

The Old Bird scoffs at Steven’s comment. “I’ll fill her head with dreams and you can do as you please. My treat, little worm.” 

Steven swallows slowly, letting his eyes move from Khonshu’s figure back to you on the bed. 

To test the bird’s promise, Steven roughly grabs a handful of your ass. A small whimper escapes your lips but your eyes stay closed. 

Pushing the guilt and gross feelings to the side, Steven continues his exploration of your body. His fingers press against your soft folds and its him this time who lets out a sound as he presses into your pussy. Your heat closes around him and he grits his teeth. Steven isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this submerged in pleasure from anything else before. 

He strokes in and out of you, soaking in the soft mewls you release as Khonshu keeps you asleep. Your body reacts more, wetness coating his fingers and your legs jerking as he thumbs over your clit. 

In tandem, Steven frees his cock from inside his pants. One hand inside of you and one hand wrapped around his own length. He matches motions with both hands, imagining that his cock is actually inside of you. 

“Fuck,” Steven mumbles as his pace falters. He tries to focus more on playing with your body than chasing his own release, but he’s failing. After so much pent up energy, he’s closer than he’d like to be. He drops his length and inserts a third finger into your warmth. He strokes, aiming to find the spot inside that is going to make you fall apart. 

Your hips jolt up into his hind when he finds it. 

“Oh that’s it, yes baby.” 

Khonshu lets a dark chuckle from across the room. 

“Let go for me,” Steven coaxes as he focuses his attention on your clit. Your body shudders and your breath quickens. Steven can’t help but rut his hips up against the bed as he watches you squirm and moan under his touch. It’s better than his wet dreams of you. 

One more thrust into the sweet spot and your noises tell Steven that he’s got your orgasm, pairing with the flush of wetness that coats his fingers.  

Steven lets out a sigh and pushes the dark thoughts out of his head. 

“Forgetting something?” Khonshu probes, pointing his staff at Steven’s neglected length. 

Using the cum that seeped out of you, Steven wraps his hand around himself once more and begins to stroke. He drags his thumb over the head, swiping at the precum that leaks out the tip. It feels so fucking good to have the stickiness of your release lubing his motions on his cock. 

With a particularly rough tug, Steven lets himself come, painting your ass with his seed. Remnants drip out of the tip, mixing with your slick on his fingers. 

Disgusting and delicious, Steven sucks on the coated fingers. It’s the perfect mix of sweet and tang and alkaline bitter. It’s a taste Steven will never forget. 

— 

“How are you doing today?” Steven queries with almost innocent intentions. “Get home safe last night?” 

“Yes Steven, thank you for asking.” There it is again, that sweet way you say his name. “But I will admit, I had the strangest dreams. I think I shouldn’t drink wine before bed anymore, must be something with the tannins.” 

#steven grant x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #dark!steven grant x reader #dark!steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant/reader #steven grant/you #moon knight fanfiction #dark moon knight fanficition #moon knight #marvel #marvel reader insert #marvel fic #di writes

[mxpothos]

Drawn To Each Other: Chapter 1

Summary: 

"Crap, sorry, I'm going to be late getting back to the office. I'd better get going." She looked up at him and gave a shy smile. "Thank you, again. I think I needed to hear that today." Steven felt his heart flip over in his chest.

"O'course, I'm glad to have helped."

She started to walk away slowly and gave Steven a small wave.

"Well, have a good day, Steven. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?" she said hopefully.

Steven felt his heart fly up into his throat.

Pairing: Steven Grant/Original Female Character, Steven Grant/Reader Word Count: 3k Rating: General, future chapters will be 18+ Tags/Warnings: Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Eventual Romance, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut

Notes: This is intended to be a reader-esque fic written in the third person. I had thought about posting alternate versions of this story using different pronouns for the main character (he/him, they/them etc)? If anyone has interest in that please let me know! 

Read Chapter 2  here

To: T, Jess <[email protected]> From: Management <[email protected]> Subject: data audit Attachments: DataCleanUpReport.xls

Jess,

Please see the attached document with the results of our data audit for last month. The items noted in column G need to be corrected to the items listed in column H. These corrections need to be input into the system by the end of the week. Please advise once complete.

Sincerely, Management

“Really? Again? Thanks a fucking lot” Jess huffed while slouching back into her desk chair. She was sick of leadership offloading their busywork onto her. It felt like everyone else in the department was assigned to some interesting project or another, except her. Nope, Jess was left to tidy up other people’s mistakes and deal with the drudgery nobody wanted to do.

Jess could feel a snarky reply itching its way out of her. She opted to lock her computer and depart for lunch before she did any damage. It was days like today that she was glad her office was behind-the-times enough to still have cubicles, so no one could see the agitation in her movements. Every other company Jess had worked for embraced the “open office” mentality. Being elbow to elbow with your coworkers without a sliver of privacy quickly made a bad mood so much worse.

Jess yanked her bag out of her desk drawer, and grabbed her umbrella for good measure. It was always rainy this time of year in London. She finally felt her shoulders start to relax as she walked out of the building’s front doors. She stopped at a kebab shop down the street to get a doner wrap, and wolfed it down during the rest of her walk.

Her office was only a few blocks away from the famed British Museum, and Jess had taken to spending her lunch breaks there a few times a week. Doing so had several perks -

1) It was free

2) It was relaxing and educational

And, most importantly,

3) It was the last place any of her coworkers would ever go during lunch.

Jess had recently started bringing her sketchbook along to practice drawing the many sculptures, statues, or even other visitors. It helped her feel more human, being surrounded by art and artifacts while practicing an art herself. Being an office drone will wear you down if you don’t fight it somehow.  

Today seemed to be a bit busier than usual. There were throngs of people crowding the information desk as Jess walked inside. She had hoped to grab a museum map to keep on hand, but didn’t feel like contending with the horde of people. Jess cut around the crowd and walked towards her usual corner of the museum. She had been working her way through the many Ancient Greece and Rome rooms for the last few weeks. Today, she felt like something different.

Jess paused at a sign listing the exhibits in this wing.

“Assyrian sculpture… Egyptian sculpture…hmm that sounds about perfect” she muttered to herself.

It was much calmer in the Egyptian sculpture exhibits. Maybe a dozen or so people were spread throughout the interconnected rooms. Jess took in the gorgeous statues as she slowly walked through, waiting for one to catch her eye as today’s sketch subject. She noticed there was a gift shop to her right. She glanced over and scanned the front of the counter, hoping to see a stack of museum maps like the information desk had.

“Oh, ah hello there! Can I help you?”

Jess turned to see the source of the, rather cheerful, query. The museum employee standing behind the counter looked up at her eagerly, dark wavy hair falling above his brow as he leaned over the register. Jess blinked, and finally realized she hadn’t responded to him yet.

“Oh um no, no thank you, just looking!” she stuttered out. “Well… actually, I was wondering if you had any of the exhibit maps here? I meant to grab one up front but there was such a big crowd. I know I can just pull it up on my phone… but, I prefer to have a physical copy, you know?”

Jess mentally kicked herself as she over-explained to this man who certainly didn’t care why she wanted a map.

“Ah, I’m afraid we don’t keep any of the maps or pamphlets back here," the man said in an apologetic tone.

"That's fine, no worries! Just wanted to check." Jess reassured him.

"Pretty stupid not to, now that you mention it eh? I should say something to my boss. Those would be more useful than half the stuff back here, like all these jelly scorpions. I mean what does that have to do with Egyptian history? Honestly I -”

The man cut himself off and shook his head, eyes closed.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to get going on a rant there” He looked at her again with an embarrassed smile.

Jess gave what she hoped was a sympathetic smile.

"Not at all, I mean I can't say I disagree with you. Though, admittedly, those hippos over there are pretty cute" she nodded to a pile of hippo plush toys and chuckled.  

"Well, technically, those are the goddess Taweret.” The man said with a teasing glance, “But, yeah, I s'pose they are cute. I think she would approve of them, actually.”

He paused for a moment before looking back at Jess.

“Right! So, er, no maps unfortunately. But I’d be happy to help direct you myself! I know this museum backwards and forwards by now.”

Jess chuckled softly. “Sure, I didn’t really have anything specific in mind. I like to come here on my lunch breaks and sketch the artifacts. I’ve been through most of the Greek and Roman exhibits, so I decided to come through here today.”

The man instantly perked up with excitement at hearing this.

“That’s just lovely! Well there’s loads to see and draw here. Over there is the sculpture of King Ramses the second, and down here we have -”

As the man animatedly explained what and where seemingly every artifact in the exhibit was, Jess took a moment to properly observe him. He wore a simple gray jacket over a slightly rumpled but brightly patterned shirt. A nametag on the front jacket pocket revealed his name was Steven. He was very handsome for a gift shop worker, with striking features and an attractive build obscured by his frenetic energy and ordinary clothing. Dark circles under his warm brown eyes hinted at some unseen stress in his life, but you would never guess it otherwise. He spoke with more passion than Jess could ever remember having in her own workplace.

“- and of course you simply MUST see the Rosetta Stone down there. Although, ha, I s’pose it wouldn’t be much for drawing would it?”

He suddenly looked bashful again, glancing back at Jess.

“It's just a big old block with some writing on it, innit?” He chuckled hesitantly “But… it did allow us to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphs. So, er, it’s a rather useful big old block I’d say.”

He looked down at the counter and fiddled with some of the merchandise, the confidence he’d shown just moments ago seemed to evaporate.

“Well, er, I’ll let you get to it then.” He suddenly reverted to customer service mode, “Is there anything else I can help you with, miss?”

Jess flashed her best you’re-doing-great-sweetie smile at him.

“No, thank you, I really appreciate your recommendations.” She remembered less than half of what he’d told her, but his enthusiasm was incredibly charming.

He smiled back at her shyly “Always glad to help. Have a great day, miss.”

Jess started to walk away but thought better of it. Before she could think it through, she found herself turning back to the gift shop clerk.

“If you’re still here when I’m done, I can show you whatever I end up sketching. If you like…”

She surprised him as much as she did herself. He perked back up and grinned at her.

“I'd love that! I won’t be going anywhere ‘til closing tonight, so, you know where to find me -” He paused for half a beat “- right here. Yep.” He chuckled timidly.

“Great! Well, I’ll see you later - “

Jess pointedly glanced at his nametag again.

“- Steven.”

She gave him another warm smile and turned on her heel down the hall. She did not see Steven gazing after her with a flustered grin on his face.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Steven watched her walk away and waited for his heart rate to go back to normal. It was several minutes before he realized he still had a goofy smile plastered on his face, replaying the interaction in his head.

He made a mental note to ask for her name when she came back. Then, he felt a small lurch in his stomach at his next thought.

If she comes back.

Of course, he was getting ahead of himself. She was just being kind to him. He'd spoken with hundreds, if not thousands, of museum visitors since working here. None of those interactions went beyond surface level. None of those people would remember him or think about him once they stepped away from the gift shop counter. There was no reason to expect this time would be any different, right?

No, this was just an unusually pleasant interaction with an unusually pleasant patron. Nothing more. At the very least, it had brightened his day significantly.

And… it was the closest to anything resembling flirting he had experienced in ages.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Jess meandered through the exhibits and settled in front of a row of lion goddess statues. The plaque indicated they were representations of the goddess Sekhmet, and were likely commissioned by King Amenhotep III.

There was no bench so Jess sat on the floor. She pulled out her sketchbook and pencils, and looked up at the artifacts in front of her. She started out with a rough impression of the four statues together. Then she moved on to more detailed sketches of one statue's lion head, and then her hands resting on her lap. She captured the damaged sections as well as the skillful carvings in the stone.

Her mind wandered, not for the first time, to the sense of awe at being surrounded by works that were carved thousands of years ago. How many hands had touched these statues? How many people had played a part in their creation? Had gazed upon them where they once stood in Egypt? And then, how many had helped steal them away from their homeland to be put on display in a stuffy museum in England? Had they heard the bombs falling during the blitz? These Sekhmet statues had literally seen kingdoms, empires, rise and fall. The stories they might tell.

Jess checked the time on her phone.

Crap, better start heading back to the office.

She put a few finishing touches on her sketch and packed up to leave. Without thinking, she automatically started heading towards the museum entrance. Then she remembered her conversation with the gift shop clerk - Steven.

"Shit…" she hissed under her breath.

Why did I say I'd show him my sketches? I'm such a dork. He was probably just humoring me.

Still, she didn't want to leave him hanging. He'd seemed genuinely interested in seeing what she drew. And besides, if she was going to keep coming here she didn't want to make things awkward with any of the staff.

She walked back towards the gift shop, slightly hoping there would be a line of customers to give her an excuse to leave.

Jess rounded the corner into the gift shop area. There was Steven sitting behind the counter, not a customer in sight. Great.

Steven did an absurdly comical double take as Jess walked over. He stood up so quickly that he sent a pile of sticker packs flying across the counter.

"Oh, hey, you're back! Er, I mean, did you find everything you were looking for today?"

Jess couldn't help giggling in amusement. She had never seen someone look so weirdly cute while stumbling over themselves. She also couldn't remember the last time someone had such a reaction to her entering a room. It was a heady feeling.

"Yeah! I ended up settling on the row of Sekhmet statues around the corner there."

She tried to make eye contact with Steven as she spoke, but found herself unable to hold it for long. He gazed at her with such a rapt look on his face, hanging on her every word. Jess felt a blush creep up her neck, and made a show of digging her sketchbook out of her bag as an excuse to look away. Much to her relief, Steven quickly filled the space left by her silence.

"Lovely choice. Those Sekhmets are some of my favorites. Really interesting, Amenhotep was apparently obsessed with her. He commissioned hundreds of those statues and put them bloody everywhere, even in his tomb. I believe the ones in the museum here were originally from Thebes? Or was it Karnak?" Steven furrowed his brow and looked up towards the ceiling while searching his memory. After a beat he looked back at Jess and the sketchbook in her hands.

"D-did you find them to be good drawing subjects, then?" Steven fidgeted his hands together.

"I did, they're so beautiful. Even with the wear and damage. Um, if you wanted to see…" Jess half heartedly gestured towards her sketchbook.

"Please, absolutely!" Steven answered a little too quickly.

Jess looked down, trying to hide her growing blush. She opened to the pages she had sketched today and put the book down on the counter, rotating it to face Steven. He bent over to examine them, careful not to touch the sketches themselves.

"Brilliant, these are just brilliant, wow." Steven said in a low voice, shaking his head with a grin. "Someone here is hogging all the creative talent, - "

He looked up to lock eyes with Jess, and gestured towards her,

"- you." He chuckled self consciously.

If Jess wasn't blushing before she certainly was now.

"That's really sweet of you to say. They're just simple sketches." Jess thumbed the strap of her bag and looked at her sketchbook sitting on the counter. "I'm not a real artist or anything… it's just something I like to do in my free time. "

"No way, you're really talented! These are gorgeous. They're not just life-like but they feel… alive, like you captured a spirit hidden in the stone itself."

Jess looked up to meet Steven's gaze as he continued.

"There's something special here. I see those statues every day… but, looking at what you've drawn, it feels like I'm seeing them in a new way."

Steven paused and held Jess's gaze. Jess couldn't tell if she wanted to hug him or just burst out crying from his unexpectedly thoughtful compliment. The best she could muster was a small, quiet -

"...thank you. Really. You're… you're very kind." She gave him an embarrassed smile.

Steven beamed back at her.

"I mean, I'm no artist myself. I'm just a gift shop clerk, what do I know? But I think these are brilliant and that you're very talented."

He handed the sketchbook back to Jess. She got a glance of her watch as she put it back in her bag.

"Crap, sorry, I'm going to be late getting back to the office. I'd better get going." She looked up at him and gave a shy smile. "Thank you, again. I think I needed to hear that today."

Steven felt his heart flip over in his chest.

"O'course, I-I'm glad to have helped."

Jess started to walk away slowly and gave Steven a small wave.

"Well, have a good day, Steven. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?" she said hopefully.

Steven felt his heart fly up into his throat.

"Sure! I'll be exactly right here, again. Well, unless my boss puts me on inventory, but hopefully not." He chuckled nervously and waved back to her. Then he remembered his mental note from earlier.

"Wait, ah, miss, d'you mind my asking what your name is?"

"Oh, right, not at all! It's Jess."

"Jess, lovely to meet you. I'm Steven, with a V." He pointed to his nametag.

To her continued embarrassment, Jess heard herself giggle in response.

"Lovely to meet you too, Steven with a V. See you tomorrow."

She turned and walked out of the exhibit towards the exit. It felt like there was an electric current humming through her body. She couldn't stop smiling to herself the whole walk back to the office.

Jess got back to her cubicle and settled into her desk chair with a sigh.

Steven with a V.

She was already looking forward to tomorrow’s lunch break.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Steven watched Jess walk away and collapsed back into his chair behind the counter.

He looked at the glass encased artifact sitting opposite the gift shop.

"Tell me that really just happened, please?"

His reflection in the glass crossed its arms and laughed

Oh yeah bud, that definitely just happened.

"D’you think she'll actually come back tomorrow? Do you think she'll actually want to see me again? I mean…" Steven trailed off with a sigh.

She came back today didn't she? I think she might.

"Well, hopefully I don't make an ass of myself again." Steven sighed and sank deeper into the chair.

His reflection uncrossed his arms and took a few steps forward.

Hey, despite all odds I think you actually did pretty good back there. She seemed to like you! Try not to worry about it. If it's meant to be, it'll come naturally. And… at the very least, I think you made her day by complimenting her art. That counts for something.

Steven smiled weakly.

"Thanks, Marc."

Any time, Steven.

______

Chapter 2

#moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant/reader #steven grant/you #steven grant x original female character #steven grant x ofc #steven grant/original female character #steven grant/ofc #steven grant x f!reader #drawn to each other

[writingrose29]

Strangers Masterlist

Pairings: Steven Grant x fem!Reader

Summary:   Sometimes the best person to talk to is the one that you will never meet again  

AN: Hello, don’t mind me. Just cross-posting. Welcome to the prequel three-shot of my Two Birds story

Chapter 1:   Two Strangers in a Park [ao3]

Chapter 2:   Two Strangers Walked Into an IHOP [ao3]

Chapter 3:   Two Strangers Make a Pinky Promise (For a Temporary Goodbye) [ao3]

#steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant/reader #steven grant/you #steven grant x fem!reader

[catastrxblues]

i love ao3 but tumblr fanfics just hit different 😩😩

#i’m not saying it just to say it #it’s a fact #i speak only the truth #you fanfic writers are geniuses #james potter x reader #peter parker x reader #bucky barnes x reader #ron weasley x reader #remus lupin x reader #marc spector x reader #loki x reader #sirius black x reader #steven grant x reader #percy jackson x reader #harry potter x reader #steve rogers x reader #did i just expose myself on how i chose to use this silly little website every now and then 🫣 #these are my lifelines tho so <33 #esp the angsty ones #nadirants

[lockleysfav]

My Little Flower

Miguel O’Hara x AFAB virgin!Reader

summary: You had just met the spider society and Miguel a few days ago, You and Miguel had been quite chatty with eachother for a while before be was called out to a mission. A few hours later when you’re asleep in the lab, a high Miguel stumbles in.

warnings: NSFW, sex pollen, drugged Miguel, loss of virginity, rough sex, non con, somnophilia, creampie, reader soon loves it.

A/N: From the last post, the poll, i will be doing the top 3 voted smut ideas. If you want to be in a taglist just comment on this post ❤️. Enjoy!!

To say you were tired was an understatement, you had been working on your new costume a few minutes after Miguel was called out to a mission. It was lonely sometimes without him despite the hundreds of spider people around. You knew that you and Miguel were a little closer than others, and his company had always lightened your mood.

You begged him to let you come with him on this mission but he immediately shut you down, rushing off after telling you it’s too dangerous, plus, your suit isnt finished. It was whatever, you scoffed and sat back down to carry on with the designs. “Asshole” you muttered to yourself, mimicking his facial expressions only to make yourself laugh but once you calmed down and looked to the clock and saw it was 10:34pm, you decided to work a little on your laptop in miguels chair (he had the comfiest chair of course).

The door and slammed wide open and yet you didnt flinch for a second, Miguel stumbled in onto his knees, panting and clawing at his neck “fuck what is this” he heaved as he continued to squirm. His fangs had retracted and he felt his body growing warmer and warmer at a certain smell, he didnt realise that smell was you until he forced himself up onto his feet and saw you asleep in his chair, your body hunched over on the desk with your laptop still open, the white light lighting up your face. Miguel almost purred at the sight of you drooling on his desk.

“te necesito” he muttered breathlessly before scrunching up his face in frustration. He couldnt do that to you? right? You were new, still young. You’d hate him but god he couldnt stop his legs from moving towards you. He growled and so desperately tried to hold himself back, his cock straining against his suit.

You were whining ever so slightly in your sleep, Miguel wasnt aware if you were having a nightmare but its what he assumed and it only drove him even crazier “poor bebita” he whispered as he ran his long fingers through your hair before letting the bottom half of his suit fade away, his cock resting against your cheek. His tip was almost gushing with precum, he gripped the back of your hair and growled before pushing the tip into your drooling mouth “oh fuck, thats it good girl” he whimpered as his body grew hotter, his hips suddenly bucking harder into your mouth. Your head twitched and pulled back a little but Miguel gripped your hair tighter holding you in place “im sorry bebita im so sorr- f-fuck” his dick hit the back of your throat and he doubled over emptying his cum on your tongue.

He pulled out panting, he stared down at you expecting you to jolt awake but you were still fast asleep. You were more of a deep sleeper than he thought. Initially he thought he was okay, but the sight of his warm cum dribbling out of your mouth only hardened his cock again. He didnt waste another second, he lifted you up from the desk, the cum from his mouth smearing onto his shoulder causing him to groan. He carried you to his bed and layed you on your stomach, your feet dangling off the edge of the bed. He pulled down your leggings along with your socks and shirt, you stirred for a moment and Miguel stopped, looking at your face until it relaxed again “so good for me, you love it dont you? you want me just as much as i want you” his eyes had turned a deep red, he felt feral.

He straddled your thighs and ran his fingers down your spine before gripping your ass cheeks tight, putting his weight down and spreading you wide open, your puffy pussy exposed to him. He heaved again, saliva spitting from his mouth before spitting directly onto your pussy. This time, you jolted.

“M-Miguel?” you lifted your head realising it was planted down on soft sheets. You feel a pair of large hands on your ass and you quickly realised the situation, the head of his cock pressed against your hole and you immediately thrashed against him to get away “no no! stay!” Miguel had tears in his eyes he was so desperate. He grabbed your arms and pinned them behind your back. “Miguel stop! Im a virgin please please dont do this” you were almost sobbing and Miguel let go of your hands.

“Virgin?” he asked as he looked down again, spreading your pussy lips before looking at the back of your head. “I wont…i wont hurt you okay? please bebita” he leaned down, his body weight completely pinning you down as he kissed behind your ear. “need you so bad, just don’t fight it and it wont hurt i promise” you were panting and whining, you were so scared but also full of adrenaline. You were crushing on Miguel the minute you laid eyes on him. But you were just scared.

Miguel nipped your earlobe making you yelp, he growled and sat back up on his knees, he let you have control over your arms as he started rubbing his thick tip along your slit. He used his thighs to pin your legs together, making sure you wouldnt be able to squirm so much. He pushed in a little and sighed in relief at your loud whining “it hurts! miguel w-wait” but he didnt, he forced himself deeper and deeper, he knew it wouldve been easier for you if his dick was any smaller. He felt guilty in his gut as he continued and struggled to force his cock all the way inside you “shh relax, take me all in baby come on” he pulled back before pushing in again and this time your pussy opened up for him, letting him slide right in making you cry out loudly “miguel!” you were frantic, trying to get away from the pain but Miguel only held you in place, hushing you and kissing your shoulder as he refused to stop his movements.

“Shh it’s alright, dont be scared it’s over j…just stay still and oh- everything will be fine!” he stuttered as sweat dripped from his face. His gut was burning with desire and he couldnt stop, he so desperately wanted to pull out and hold you, tell you hes sorry but he couldn’t.

Miguel had shown a little mercy by flipping you onto your back and spreading your legs before slipping his hands behind your knees and pinning your legs to your chest, folding you together. He saw the fear in your face when you looked down at the size of him “no dont look mi amor, look at me thats it…you’re okay this is gonna feel so good trust me” you shook your head but he only nodded his before sliding his dick back into your pussy. You gasped and pressed your palm’s against his chest a poor attempt to keep him from going any further, he moaned and only slid deeper, hitting your cervix. “too deep” you told him shakily and he ignored you, lifting your legs higher onto his shoulders and pounding into you “fuck you’re so tight, leaking everywhere you little slut you love it, stop being so fucking dramatic and take it” the moment he said this, he slammed against your g-spot and your eyes rolled back “o-oh my god” you bucked your hips up and he smiled against your neck “good girl there we go…” he pulled away to look at you, taking in your beautiful features while pounding you.

You were moaning at each thrust, it was music to Miguels ears and as soon as you started panicking, unknown to what was coming he almost exploded. “mmm fuck dont fight it, let it happen bebita come on let it all out” his encouragement had you crying, your pussy squeezing his cock as you came, making it difficult for him to keep thrusting but it didnt matter, he grabbed your throat tightly and kissed you, pushing his tongue deep in your mouth as he rammed his warm sticky cum into your womb.

Miguel laid his head on your chest, he felt a weight lift off him and he came back to his senses when he heard you crying. He immediately shot up and looked down at you with a frown “oh no…oh im so sorry i..i didnt..i dont know what to say” he cupped your cheeks desperate to hear you say something.

You shook your head in his hands “please dont leave” Miguel was stunned for a moment at your plea, your body was shaking and his heart broke “hey..hey look at me im not going anywhere” he looked into your reddening eyes “im not going anywhere…im so sorry this wasnt how i wanted this to go” he sighed and laid his head back onto your chest “i was hit with some powder i dont know what came over me when i saw you, please babygirl believe me when i say i didnt wanna hurt you i-i never want to hurt you” you were looking up at him, smiling weakly “it’s okay Miguel..i understand” you nuzzle into him and he clung to you tightly “i wont let anyone hurt you..you’re mine” he was gentle with words, it almost felt normal.

You really had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

A/N: Thank you for reading! 💕

likes and reposts are so appreciated <3

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel smut #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant #smut #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley smut #fluff #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac smut #spider 2099 x reader

[fettuccin-e]

It's Never Easy

Kinktober Day 24: Edging

Tags: Steven Grant x Reader x Marc Spector x Jake Lockley, yeah that's right they're all here baby, afab!fem!reader, oral and fingering (f!recieving), unprotected piv (wrap it irl I am begging you), edging, crying during sex, orgasm denial (w/c: 1.3K)

A/N: Yeah that's right the boys are back in town, and by that I mean all three moonboys. They're all little shits and I adore them (For Kinktober, I've been using this list from flightlessangelwings!)

You think that you’re finally wearing Steven down.

He’s been at this for hours now, you think, burying himself between your thighs and losing himself like he never wants to leave. He’s fucking incessant when he gets you like this, licking at your cunt until his eyes have glazed over and he’s grinding slowly into the bedsheets. He moans when you tug at his hair, the vibrations from it going up your spine.

“Fuck, Steven, I need-” you moan, your chest heaving with the way Steven sucks your clit into his mouth, licking at you in a way that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your hips hump into his face, chasing the sensation. “I can’t, fuck, I’m gonna- think I’m gonna-”

He pulls his face away just like that, watching as you shout, your hips grinding into nothing but air as your pleasure and your orgasm dissipate. He holds your thighs apart and just looks at the way you tremble, his eyes wide and a blush high on his face.

“That’s it, darling, so fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, and you grind your teeth together. This is the third time, the third fucking time, he’s done that. Gotten you so close, your body locking up and threatening to fall off that precipice, before he pulls himself away, leaving you with nothing.

It’s fucking maddening, and Steven just watches, squeezing at his thick cock as it aches between his legs.

“Please, Steven,” you whine, high pitched and needy. “Need you to let me cum, fuck, please let me cum.” You sound so pitiful, so desperate, that Steven’s eyes soften at your begging.

“Oh, I know, love,” he murmurs, sliding a thick finger up the seam of your cunt. “Need it so bad, yeah? It’s okay, darling, I’ll let you cum,”

You nearly sob with relief when he leans back down and sucks your clit into his mouth, sinking two fingers into your entrance. He’s relentless, playing with your clit with his tongue, nudging the tips of his fingers into a little spot inside of you that makes you want to cry. Your orgasm surges back up inside you without warning, and you can’t fucking breathe.

You brace yourself for him to do it again, to pull away when you start babbling, “Gonna cum, fuck, please let me cum,” between heaving moans. But Steven doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow down, and you start to smile with the fact that he’s actually going to let you have it this time without pulling away.

Except, he does pull away.

You cry out as Steven’s head shoots up from between your legs again, but you can only watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head, his jaw clenched.

Marc looks up at you from his place between your thighs, a cocky little smirk playing at his lips. 

“Oh baby,” he says, and his voice is gruff, dark, so unlike Steven’s. “You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?” You gasp for air as Marc sinks a third finger into you, and he grins. 

“So pretty when you’re almost fucking there, sweetheart,” Marc murmurs, and he leans close to brush his lips against yours in a whisper of a kiss. “Whining, pleading for us to just let you cum. Steven was going to let it happen, put an end to your misery, but me?” He fucks his hand into you so hard that you choke on a moan. “I like seeing you squirm.”

And the process starts over again.

Marc fucks you on his fingers without a hint of remorse, driving into your g-spot in violent, debilitating thrusts that have you reeling.

You get so close so many fucking times, over and over and over again, your body drawn tight with the overwhelming need to cum. You beg, plead, gripping the bedsheets so hard that you fear you might tear them. But Marc. Doesn’t. Stop.

Every time he feels it, that tell-tale tightening of your body, hears the way you start to go quiet as you focus on finally falling over that precipice, he pulls his hand out of you without any finesse, any mercy.

Around the third time he does it, you really do start to cry, sobbing for Marc to finally let you cum, that you need it so bad it hurts.

“Can’t- it’s too much, Marc, please, please let me, need it so ba-ad,” you hiccup through your moans, tears bubbling up in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks.

Marc leans down and kisses them away, cooing at you as he grinds the calloused tips of his fingers into the most sensitive parts of your cunt.

“Okay, sweet girl, I’ve got you, come on,” he murmurs, his thumb coming up to press against your clit, grinding little circles into it and sending you fucking flying. “Don’t cry, baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

“Thank you, thank you, thank-” you’re in the middle of thanking him, practically tasting your orgasm on your desperate tongue, when Marc’s eyes roll back, and his hand rips away from your cunt.

“No,” you whine, choking on your tears as your body quakes beneath his, “no, no, please.” You’re practically hysterical, desperate for it after so fucking long, after Steven and Marc have shredded you apart.

“Princesa,” Jake grins down above you, unmistakable with his dark gaze and a smile that is purely fucking primal, feral. “If you think you’re going to cum on anything but my cock, you’re wrong.”

And you can only gasp at Jake notches the thick, leaking head of his cock against your gaping entrance, and shoves himself in to the hilt.

You scream, your back bending into an obscene arch as he fills you up so perfectly. 

“Jake, Jake,” you sob through labored breaths, “I can’t, it’s been, I don’t know how long it’s been, please, please. I need to cum, fuck, ‘m begging.”

“Oh, my beautiful girl,” Jake croons, “Of course you can.”

Of course you can. Like you’ve had permission all along, like it was that easy. Like you haven’t been broken apart by each of them, over and over again, reduced to a sobbing, shaking mess beneath their body.

He’s only one, two thrusts in, but you’re coming anyway, screaming with it as tears flow down your cheeks. Your entire body locks up with it, your cunt squeezing tight around Jake’s cock in rhythmic pulses that have him clutching painfully at your hips. Sweet, sweet relief fills your body, like water in a desert, the sun after a hurricane. It’s fucking bliss, incomparable, absolutely debilitating.

“Mierda, that’s fucking beautiful, fuck,” Jake growls, and he presses into your body so deep you think you can feel it in your stomach, and pumps you full of his cum. “Good girl,” you hear him mutter, “Good fucking girl,” before darkness grows into the edges of your vision and quickly swallowing it whole, leaving you to fall into pitch black oblivion.

When you finally come back to yourself, you feel warm, safe. It’s no surprise to you, since you usually feel that way in this flat, in this bed.

“I didn’t fucking kill her, Steven,” you hear Jake growl. “She’s breathing just fine. And don’t act innocent, you and I both know that you worked her just as hard as Marc and I did.”

“And you all better pamper me,” you croak, still refusing to open your eyes, “As soon as I take a nap.”

“Hermosa,” you hear Jake breathe, and you feel his lips press to your forehead. You crack open your eyes to meet Jake’s gaze, his eyes wide and more worried than he usually lets on. “Are you alright? You- you passed out.” he asks, and you giggle.

“Never been better,” you murmur. “But any of you try that shit again, it’s no sex for a fucking year.”

Jake grins in that roguish way that makes your heart flutter. "As if you could resist any of us for that long, mi vida."

#i need to be dicked down by three (3) men #steven grant x you #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant x y/n #dom steven #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockely smut #moon knight x you #moon knight smut #moon knight x reader

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

ALR!!!!!! SO, jealous/mad sex w the moonboys?

- 🦅🇺🇸

at your service🫡 thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

JEALOUS/ MAD SEX WITH THE MOONBOYS

moonboys x female reader (not as the moon system)

warnings. 18+ only!! rough pinv mdni

with marc, I feel like it would after a bad day, and he is in need of a stress reliever. he'd be kinda forceful (ALL CONSENUAL!!) and rough with you, manhandling you a bit. he'd fuck you in doggy, just ploughing and slamming into you from behind - ignoring your muffled cries into the mattress. he'd bruise your ass with slaps and squeezes, marking your waist as he tugs you to meet his ruthless thrusts. butt cheeks slamming against his thighs, balls hitting your clit from behind - all that good shit. he'd also grab onto your hair or behind your neck, using you as leverage as he fucks into you - holding you still to take his fucking. he'd cum first, all over your lower back, completely unaware that you haven't cum. he'd apologise profusely for getting so carried away and would roll you over to kiss you - comforting you. then he would eat you out til you cum on his tongue. he'd chub up again right after, so you'd go again. but more lovingly this time, and you'd talk and kiss as he winds into you. asking him what's on his mind/ bothering him

with steven, im thinking he gets jealous when he sees you talking with a guy in the queue. he'd sit on it all day and would be mopey about it. he wouldn't tell you why he's mad or jealous - he'd wait until the night when you'd have sex. usually, he's not one for games/ messing about, but it made him feel insecure bc the guy was 'better looking' than him (untrue) and he felt inadequate, and that you could do better. you'd be in missionary and he would be really sneaky and mean with it - only giving you the head of his cock, letting you satiate your need on just his tip. he'd edge you for so long, thumbing over your clit with his cock inside, waiting just until you were about to cum then he'd snatch his dick and thumb away - leaving you desperate and frustrated. it would be a much different steven !! he'd realise how much he loves to edge you - how much he enjoys the power of controlling your climax. it would take some good restraint to control his own orgasm but the thought of you with another man would give him that little push to hold off. after he'd talk about what bothered him and you'd reassure him, telling him how you'd never leave him for another man

with jake, im feeling that he gets jealous (?) or mad seeing you getting hit on at the bar. he'd keep it all hidden with his composure, never once exposing how territorial it made him feel. if you were getting hit on and he was beside you ???? he wouldn't get angry at all !! (I feel like he's confident with your relationship so to him it's amusing) he'd join in when the guy is chatting you up, "she is beautiful, isn't she?" he knows you're his, so to him it's like a fun game - kinda pimping you out (bc he knows he can protect you) he'd whisper something in spanish in your ear and he'd walk you away, a hand on the small of your back as you'd giggle. in the car, he'd be all over you and you wouldn't even make it home. he'd fuck you in the car park, in the backseat, you riding him. he'd have his grip around your throat, fucking you down onto him - you'd have your hands around his forearms, using him as stability as he claims you, pounding up into you. he'd mutter how he doesn't share and that you're his, telling you how pretty you are as he just slams his cock up into you. when you'd get home, you'd have another few rounds, nothing able to satiate the carnal feeling

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

#request #🦅🇺🇸 #marc spector #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x fem!reader #steven grant #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x fem!reader #jake lockley #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x fem!reader #moon boys #moon knight #moonknight x reader

[asimplearchivist]

𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓓𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ you're down in the dumps about the disheartening lack of prospective romantic partners interested in initiating a long-term relationship with you. your ever-helpful coworker amy decides to give you (and a highly interested would-be suitor) a nudge in the right direction—just not in the way you might expect. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 4.8k a/n ☽ ⤏ my second entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. ⤏ this takes place right before chapter two while steven is preparing for his interview, so before he works up the nerve (courtesy of both his agreement with and coertion from marc) to ask you out. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY [TBA] ☽

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into that, Amy. What was I even thinking?”

“You were thinking of living a little instead of hermiting away in your flat like you do every conceivable chance you get—you look absolutely stunning, by the way! Tell me how it went!”

You hunkered in on yourself, folding your arms around your torso and pursing your chapped lips. The humid, dusk breeze hurtling through the street tugged at the hem of your dress, the cardigan draped over your shoulders doing little to fend off the early autumn chill. You’d texted her while wrapping up business at the bistro a block over and had walked over to the coffeeshop to clear your head after the entire ordeal and to check in before heading home.

“Horribly,” you said flatly. “I took one of my few vacation days and was subjected to an hour-long lecture on the growing value of cryptocurrencies before being asked if I intended to give up my career once I found a spouse—like I’m just spending the money on uni for funsies.”

“...Oh.” Your coworker’s face creased with equal measure of shame and sympathy. “My flatmate told me he was a decent bloke, save for a couple of rocky breakups the last year or so—I had no idea he was a wanker to boot…and probably at fault for those situations to start with, since that’s the case—but I should have given it more thought before roping you into it. That explains a lot about what little I heard about him. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you sighed and leaned against the humming lamppost at your back, “you had no way of knowing how he’d be in person, and you were trying to help me step out of my comfort zone a bit. It was kind of nice to have an excuse to dress up and go out for a bit, if nothing else. He insisted on paying, too, even if it was an underhanded attempt to woo me…so no money was wasted on my part, at least. I was going to buy myself a pint of ice cream on the way home to distract myself from the crushing reality that no one worth the effort could ever find me attractive and want to pursue a meaningful, long-term relationship with me, but now I’m not so sure. I’m exhausted, and I couldn’t even get a word in edgewise for a solid twenty minutes—I just did a whole lot of nodding along and ‘mmhmm’ing.”

“Firstly, you should treat yourself—I’ll even pay for it since you were the one who had to tolerate all that shit, undoubtedly like an angel because I know you and you’re a painfully polite person—and secondly, I’m not going to unpack…all of that statement, but I am going to tell you right now that you are a prize who deserves the best treatment a girl could ask for and shouldn’t have to. You’re worth it, even if you don’t feel like it—don’t try to deny it, I’ve heard all those little self-deprecating comments you’ve made over the months—and I’m sure there’s someone out there just dying for you to grant him a chance at making you the happiest woman alive.”

“I’m sure—he’s liable to just walk around the corner at any moment.” You rolled your eyes, but your expression softened into one of gratitude when you spotted the conviction on the barista’s face. “...Thank you, it helps to hear that occasionally. Maybe one day I’ll believe it, too.”

“Of course. It’ll stick eventually.” Amy opened her arms to offer you a hug, and you accepted it gratefully. Cheek pressed on top of your head, she rubbed and patted your back in a few soothing sweeps before releasing you and stepping back while drawing the shop keys out of her apron with a grin and a lingering gaze toward the main plaza across the street corner. “...But I honestly think you’re a little more oblivious than I thought if you really haven’t noticed.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, brow furrowing as you fiddled with the thin leather strap of your crossbody resting across your chest. Had she changed topics without you realizing?

“It’s a wonder what a little…gentle prodding can do in the long run,” she continued idly, eyes glittering with mirth as she twirled the jangling keyring on her finger and returned her attention to you. “There’s a reason I talked you into all that—well, besides getting you out on the town for an evening, of course. I think primping yourself did you a lot of good—you’re glowing.”

You blinked and opened your mouth to question her further, but approaching footsteps captured your attention due to their familiar scuffling cadence. You turned and spotted Steven’s slumped silhouette emerging into the ambient, watery light casting a cone around the coffee shop’s entrance. He’d already spotted you, evidently, and his face lit up in an infectiously warm smile as you recognized him. You found yourself returning the gesture subconsciously.

“Hello, mate,” Amy chirped, waggling her fingers at him. “How’d the application process go today? Did you pass the assessment?”

“With flyin’ colors!” Steven crooned, his back unfurling as his shoulders pushed back and his chin raised. He came to a stop near you, hands tucked into his pockets as his chest pressed forward against his otherwise gargantuan jacket. “The lady who looked it over seemed shocked that I knew so much, but that just goes to show you—I told ‘em for months that this ol’ noggin’ of mine wasn’t empty!” He knocked his knuckle on his temple with a toothy grin.

“You’ve got a sponge for a brain, darlin’,” you told him with a chuckle, reaching out and squeezing his elbow affectionately. His eyes softened as he refocused on you, his smile smoothing into a closed-lipped one. “I think you could talk circles around all those stuffy professors at the university, honestly—half of them haven’t updated their sources since the nineties. And it’s not your fault that your old manager had her head crammed so far up her ass.”

“Yeah, well,” he responded, color building beneath the high arches of his cheeks and gilding his tawny skin with rose-gold even under the otherwise unflattering fluorescent bulb of the streetlight, “I just like to read, is all. And I haven’t had to deal with her, thankfully—different divisions and all that.”

You shook your head fondly. He certainly didn’t have to remind you of that fact—the countless hours he’d spent in the coffee shop and the bookstore with his aquiline nose buried in books were proof enough of that. “Did you get all the paperwork filled out? It didn’t give you any trouble?”

“Got it all sorted. I, uh—” He cast a furtive glance towards Amy. “—got help when I needed it.”

Ah. Marc likely had to help him fill in the gaps. You often wondered if Marc was the one that got him his job in the gift shop to start with, but…Steven didn’t talk very much about what he was able to remember from the tenuous times he fronted before he met you while Marc was trying to wrap up all of his personal affairs in attempt to flee from his problems.

Steven didn’t go out of his way to advertise their situation to others, as he and Marc were still trying to iron out all of the kinks with their living situation and attending therapy sessions, but you had the feeling that Amy sensed something was remiss with him because of how often she was around him in proximity to you. She hadn’t ever said anything besides the occasionally affectionate, “He’s a little odd, isn’t he?” but you were always able to distract her with a casual, “We’re all a bit strange.”

“That’s good.” Another breeze skated through the street, blowing over your exposed legs and causing you to shiver. You hunkered into your cardigan and glanced up at the pitch black sky. “I’d probably better hit the store and head home. I can hear a hot shower calling my name, and I intend to sleep in after that entire disaster.”

Steven perked up. “After all what, love?”

“Oh.” Heat crept into your cheeks. “I, uh…had a date. It didn’t go so well.”

He blinked, brows inclining upwards for a tick in a surprise that he wasn’t quite able to conceal. “I—oh. I-I didn’t realize. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was sort of last minute.” You cleared your throat. “The guy was an ignorant prick anyway. I was lucky I made it out of there with my intellect still intact.”

That managed to draw a chuckle from him, at least, but you couldn’t shake the way his eyes lingered on you, slowly traversing over your silhouette—you felt terribly vulnerable, laid bare under the gentle weight of his troubled umber gaze. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but you couldn’t quite read the expression on Steven’s face—an unusual occurrence, to be certain, as he was an open book to you most of the time—so you weren’t certain what to make of his reaction.

It didn’t help that you were terribly insecure about the situation to start with, given the fact that you would have much rather had Steven as your date instead.

With that desire, however, came an entire Pandora’s box of complicated emotions. Negative past experiences had left you extremely hesitant to initiate romantic connections of any kind. And, despite how much you trusted Steven, you had an extremely difficult time trying to shake off your doubts. The sliver of boldness in you wanted for nothing more than to grab the lapels of his wrinkled, oversized jacket and kiss him breathless to avoid the awkward song and dance of treading that tenuous line between friendship and romance when it came to people who had grown inextricably close as the pair of you had…but the overwhelming majority of your mentality, insecure and timid and wounded, would rather keep him at arm’s length to secure his platonic affection at the very least. If that was all you could ever have of him, you’d take it gladly—but the heart wants what it wants, and you longed for all of him, as selfish as you knew your feelings to be.

He was in a difficult place, trying to rediscover himself and having to reassess his entire worldview, and here you were pining for him like a teenager with a helpless crush on someone far beyond your league. Steven was everything you had ever wanted—so very smart and sweet and sincere—but who were you to think he’d ever be interested in you of all people? When he could have anybody he wanted, far more gorgeous and intelligent and better than you could even dream of being?

A needlessly poetic notion, perhaps, but…you always had been a romantic.

That is why you had never tried your (admittedly poor) luck. You liked Steven, more than anyone else whom you’d ever before met, but…he’d never made a move. He was naturally open with his affection with everyone, amiable to a fault at times, so you couldn’t assume that his behavior indicated any particular favor on your behalf.

Still…you couldn’t bear it to pull yourself away now. He’d become your best friend within a couple of weeks of meeting him, and he was the only one with whom you felt completely safe in this sprawling, suffocating cityscape. You knew without a doubt that you could rely on him for anything—he had proven himself reliable time and again over the last few months, dropping everything when you needed him. You’d give him everything you had in a heartbeat in return—including your heart, although he’d unwittingly taken possession of it long ago.

“I, ah…” Steven cleared his throat, placing his closed fist over his mouth while tipping his head down to look at you through his lashes, “...would you like me to walk you home, love? It’s awfully late for you to be goin’ to the mart by yourself.”

Although you and Steven had fallen into the habit of catching the bus together on the instances that he got stuck taking inventory before he’d gotten fired, given that you both closed up shop about the same time, that routine had fallen by the wayside. He still offered to almost every night, though, oftentimes texting you to check in around closing time (and he’d held you to a promise to let him know when you got home when you refused his offer). You missed your quiet, late night bus rides, honestly, but the last thing you wanted was to inconvenience him by having him make such a long round trip across London.

Tonight, though, with him standing there with those watery, sympathetic puppy-dog eyes, knowing that he understood poor dates better than most (nevermind the fact that he hadn’t mentioned going on any lately, now that you thought about it)…you couldn’t resist him even if you wanted to. Your self-esteem, already dangerously low, had suffered a severe toll tonight, and you needed Steven’s reassurance more than anything (even a scalding shower to scrub your woes away).

“That would be greatly appreciated, darlin’,” you said, smiling wearily. “There’s a store a block away from my apartment complex, so it’s not too far of a walk from the bus stop.”

Steven bobbed his head, and you turned to hug Amy, who patted your back. “Sorry again he turned out to be a wanker,” she said. “Maybe you’ll have better luck on the next one.”

You pulled back and raised a brow at her glittering eyes. “If there even is a ‘next one’,” you chuckled wryly. “I’m just about ready to give up at this point.”

“Bad luck’s bound to turn into good luck eventually,” she said, then turned with her keys. “I’ll see you Monday—have a good weekend.”

“You, too.” You readjusted your purse strap and glanced at Steven, tilting your head towards the other end of the sidewalk. “Shall we?”

“I think so.” He offered you his elbow, and you took it with a quiet sigh of relief. His frame offered a welcome reprieve of a blockade against the wind, and his warmth seeped even through the plethora of loose layers he favored wearing.

Mutual comfortable silence followed your stroll to the bus stop, and you leaned against his arm when you both settled on a bench near the back of the bus when it rumbled through. It didn’t take long for him to readjust in his seat and you straightened on reflex, embarrassed that you’d done it subconsciously without asking him for permission first.

“No, no, love,” he murmured, lifting his arm over your shoulders, “here. Figured this would be more comfortable for you. You’re still shiverin’.”

“Oh.” You bit the inside of your lip, fighting the flutter of your stomach. “Thank you.”

You accepted his embrace, resting your head upon the cradle of his shoulder and sinking into him. His fingers curled lightly around your arm, squeezing absently. You closed your eyes as the tension drained from your body, taking a deep breath, and—in so doing—drew in a lungful of his cologne.

He had no right to smell so damn good.

“What do you need at the mart?” he asked quietly. “So I can help you look.”

“Just some snacks,” you mumbled. “Ice cream, maybe. I have leftovers in the fridge I was going to reheat since he made a comment about what I ordered.”

Steven’s arm tightened around your shoulders. “...He what?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. He insisted on paying, so I guess he was just watching his budget.”

Steven scoffed, and it was one of the only times you’ve ever heard his tone slip into open disdain. “The gall.”

“It’s over now. I consider it a reward for wasting my time, at least.” You turned your head and tucked your nose under his jaw. “I don’t really want to think about it anymore, if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfectly all right,” he told you, tugging you closer. “Just let me know if he gives you any trouble, yeah?”

“Oh, I already have him blocked, don’t worry.” You let out a snort... “I don’t think he was particularly impressed, anyway.” …and a sigh. “Can’t really blame him.”

Steven sucked in a breath. “Now why would you go and say a silly thing like that, love?”

It had slipped out, honestly. You’d meant to internalize that lapse of self-deprecation, but you found it hard to conceal your thoughts around Steven. You had no answer for him, so you attempted a hamfisted effort to divert his attention. “I have enough food for you, too, if you’d like to stay. I figure you haven’t had much to eat this evening, and you can crash at my place since it’s so late.”

“...Do you want me to stay?” he asked softly. “So you won’t be alone?”

You laughed under your breath. “I don’t know how you do that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re able to read minds, Steven Grant.”

“No telepathy to be had,” he said mildly, the pad of his thumb beginning to draw circles on your bicep over the chunky knit of your cardigan. “Just…I know how it feels.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be happy to stay, if you’ll have me.”

You wished you could kiss him. You wished you could get away from him before your heart ended up shattered once again by your own helplessness. “Always.”

The supermarket was just short of empty when you both shuffled in, rubbing your arms to wring the growing chill from your extremities. The pop music from a top-forty station gave the aisles a melancholic quality, and Steven trailed you with a basket as you picked up the handful of necessities that needed restocking. A cursory glance at him on the freezer aisle, tilting his head back and staring up at the fluorescent lights thoughtfully, prompted you to grab a pint of raspberry sorbet instead of your normal go-to flavor of ice cream. If he noticed the change from your usual purchase while the sleepy teenage cashier rang up the handful of groceries, Steven didn’t comment on it. You’d rarely seen him so pensive.

Your apartment was blissfully warm when you let yourself back in, locked the door behind you, and turned the television on. You took the paper sack from Steven (having insisted that he carry it even though it wasn’t that heavy) and tipped your head to the living room. “Make yourself at home. There’s more blankets in the coffee chest. I’m going to put these up and grab a quick shower.”

“You wanted a long one, yeah?” he prompted. “Don’t rush on my account. I know where everythin’ is. I can take care of myself, you know.”

You nodded and turned. You were too tired to quibble with him—you knew he didn’t mind you not playing the perfect host all the time. “Okay. Watch whatever you want. My kitchen’s yours.”

“All right.” His hand grasped your elbow. “I mean it: take your time.”

You flashed him a small, appreciative smile. “Yes, sir.”

You watched the color bloom under his cheeks with more than a little fondness. He wrestled the sack back out of your arms. “I know where all this goes,” he blurted. “Go on, then.”

Maybe it was a little selfish of you, but…letting him take care of you just this once wouldn’t hurt anything, right? You chuckled. “Okay, okay—I’m going.”

You retreated to your bedroom and shut the door. Your shoes came off first, then your cardigan and your dress. Everything else followed shortly thereafter—all of it was tossed into the hamper as you tread silently into the bathroom. Frissons broke out over your bare skin as you stepped onto the cold tile, reaching around the glass divider to start the water so it would warm up while you went ahead and started your bedtime routine.

You took Steven’s advice, although with no small amount of guilt at not entertaining him (in spite of the fact that he was a grown-ass man and could very well occupy himself, as he’d said). You hated being separated from him, even through two measly walls, but the urge to get that other man’s lascivious, if critical, gaze off of you as soon as possible was far stronger at the moment.

You stood under the steaming stream for a long time, listening to the music you’d selected to play from your phone. You washed your hair and body with a certain degree of clinicism, doggedly avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror lest your mood deteriorate even more. His skepticism over your ‘generous’ choice of entree shouldn’t have mattered—he’d ordered a meal that would have made bulking bodybuilders jealous—but the subtle comments he’d sprinkled throughout the meal had taken down the carefully constructed walls surrounding your appearance. You’d worked hard to repress your hangups, dammit, and all it took was one lousy date? When he was just an asshole and didn’t even deserve to get under your skin like that?

You growled under your breath and shut the shower off, ringing out your hair and swiping the extra moisture from your skin before stepping out to towel off. You finished up with your skin care routine and went back into your bedroom to put on your favorite sweatpants and t-shirt, topped with a baggy hoodie. When you reemerged into the living room, Steven was nowhere to be seen, but the opening titles of The Mummy were playing on repeat on the television with the case open on the TV stand.

You stepped into the kitchen, following your nose and ears, and found him standing over the stove reheating the leftover vegan shakshuka you’d experimented with the night before.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, lingering in the doorway and fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. “I was going to.”

“You’re dead on your feet, love,” Steven admonished you lightly, glancing over his shoulder with a small, lopsided grin. “I can handle it. Wouldn’t mind a drink, though.”

You wanted to point out the dark circles beneath his eyes and the fatigued slump of his shoulders, but you refrained in order to save his dignity. “Would you like some tea, or soda, or…?”

“A cuppa would be lovely.”

“Is chai okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

You set the electric kettle on (bought just for him, as you preferred iced tea, but you’d never admit that to him because you knew he’d feel guilty about you spending money on him) and pulled the box of tea bags out of the pantry, as well as a pot of honey, for him to fix it how he preferred. You grabbed a mug from the cabinet, as well, and set it out for him. You opted for a bottle of water, pouring it over ice.

“Think it’s ready,” Steven said, and you grabbed a couple of plates for him to ladle portions of the dish onto. You grabbed some cutlery and napkins, as well as your glass, and followed him into the living room.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, setting down the plates on the coffee table before straightening. “Mind if I borrow the loo first?”

“Go ahead,” you told him, sinking down into the couch with a tired groan. He disappeared into the shadows of your room, and you rested your head against the cushion at your back as your eyes drifted shut.

You remained still, listening to the music coming from the TV and to Steven’s movements as he soon came back and stepped into the kitchen. Water poured, clinking of metal on porcelain, socks scuffing on flooring. The cushion next to you dipped and creaked under his weight, and his knuckle brushed your wrist. “Not hungry, love?”

“Just waiting on you.” Truthfully, you didn’t have very much desire to eat, but your stomach was protesting the insufficient sustenance of the salad you’d opted to order instead of the club sandwich with chips you’d wanted. You sat up and pulled the plate into your lap. The inviting smell certainly helped. “I hope it’s okay, I don’t know if it’s any good.”

“Anything you make is mana on earth, love,” Steven assured you. He grabbed the remote and started the movie before sipping his tea tentatively.

“There’s always room for failure,” you responded wryly, but bringing up a mouthful proved that your endeavor had been successful, thankfully. “Oh, thank God. I ended up snacking while I cooked last night and got full before I could try it. It’s okay.”

Steven tried it himself and hummed with pleasure. “It’s more than okay, love.”

“I’m glad.” You turned your attention to the screen and hunkered against the arm of the couch. “...Thank you for all this.”

You felt Steven’s gaze fix itself on your profile. “...You’re welcome.”

The night outside grew darker, and when the both of you finished eating, Steven bullied his way into taking the dishes and washing them while ordering you to stay put. You paused the film in the meantime, tugging the blanket off the back of the couch and curling up beneath it. He turned off the lights and took the other end when you offered it. Other than the occasional chuckle, neither of you spoke again until the credits began to roll. By then, you’d grown sleepy. Steven had anchored you into his side once again, resting his cheek on the crown of your head. You’d started to doze off when the rumble of his chest roused you.

“...You know you really shouldn’t say such cruel things about yourself, love. You looked extra gorgeous tonight.”

You swallowed, and in the safety of the apartment’s darkness you let your expression fall. “I know.”

“You really are somethin’ special.” His fingers drummed slowly against your arm. “I mean it. I’m honored to know you. And I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you.”

“You don’t know how much I appreciate that,” you murmured, even if that traitorous, if scarred, part of yourself denied his claim automatically. It wasn’t fair to him, but old habits die hard. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“It’s the least I could do,” he responded, “you know, as an apology on behalf of all men for that sorry wanker wasting your time.”

You laughed in the midst of a yawn. “It’ll be a story to tell on holidays, if nothing else.”

“Tired?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You pressed your face into his shirt. “You can take the bed if you want.”

“Now, you know how this debate will end.”

“I do. I still wanted to offer.”

“All right. I will need to shower first, though, if you don’t mind. I still smell like the cleaner they use in the museum.”

You sat up to give him space to stand. The smell of the museum suited him, but you didn’t exactly want to reveal that you’d been discreetly huffing his collar for the last hour. “I don’t. I have your spares in the same drawer.”

“Thank you.” Steven extricated his arm, but after a moment’s hesitation he placed a kiss on your temple. You looked up at him, shocked, and that seemed to be his intention, because despite the outlines of his face matching your flusteredness, he appeared deadly serious. “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know, poppet,” he whispered. “And you deserve all the happiness in the world, bad dates be damned.”

“I…” You swallowed roughly. “Th-thank you, darlin’.”

His mouth opened as though he’d intended to say more, but hesitation won out in the end. He shook his head and patted your knee before straightening to his feet. “Go ahead and go to bed, I’ll take everything with me in there. You need to sleep as much as you can.”

“All right,” you murmured, watching him go. He fidgeted with his hands all the way of his retreat into the bathroom. You couldn’t breathe until you heard the shower whine to a start. Your heart didn’t stop pounding against your ribs until after he exited, curls damp and pajamas draped over his lean form, told you good night, and shut your bedroom door behind him to give you privacy.

When you woke up the next morning and wandered into the kitchen for something to eat, Steven was waiting for you with two bowls of sorbet ready, and you decided then—much to the distress of your frightful heart—that you were in love.

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

[age-of-moonknight]

“Systemic Approach (Part Two),” Avengers Unlimited (Vol. 1/2022), Infinity Comic, #64.

Writer: Mat Groom; Penciler and Inker: Caio Majado; Colorist: Pete Pantazis; Letterer: Joe Sabino

#Marvel #Marvel comics #Marvel 616 #Avengers Unlimited #Avengers Unlimited Infinity Comic #Moon Knight comics #latest release #Moon Knight #Marc Spector #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #Captain America #Steve Rogers #hey Mr. Groom excuse me but how did you get access to inside my head because this is pretty much exactly what I could have wanted in life #because don’t get me wrong I love Mr. MacKay’s run but one thing I’ve been missing is just Steven - Jake - and Marc interacting #(and I was hoping that the name of this arc was in reference to the Moon Knight system but I hadn’t dared hope too much) #which means there’s so much I love here #love Jake’s jacket and the acknowledgement that the people he mingles with are in no way lesser than Steven’s socialite #or Marc’s superhero ilk but rather the people who often just need some help (whether that be through Steven’s funds/business acumen #Jake’s hands-on social support #or Marc’s /very/ hands-on support method of boxing villains over the head) but could be the least likely to get it #and !!!!! an acknowledgement that the system is a strength and an invaluable asset to Moon Knight work !!!! #and that it was Khonshu’s influence that was largely the problem as opposed to the system’s neurodivergence !!!! #and an acknowledgement from Cap of all people! I WEEP #it just means so much to me: Marc getting some support both from the system and from Cap #as well as how in character this is for Cap #as some of my favorite moments of his are where he reaches out to those deemed by others too ‘unstable’ or ‘unreliable’ to ever amount to #much in the grand scheme of things and he asks them to be Avengers #recognizing what invaluable talents they posses #could the cynical say this reads like a Saturday morning psa? sure but this is an infinity comic with Cap. Enjoy it for what it is akshsksj

[st4rymoon]

- 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 -

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑: 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, overstimulation, multiple cream pies, needy Steven, breeding kink, dumbification, pet names, language

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

You couldn’t keep track of the times Steven had came inside you. All could do was dumbly stare into his eyes as he continued to fuck himself into you.

Steven was completely wrecked watching you squirm and whine as he plunged his fat cock deep inside you. His grip surely would leave bruises tomorrow as he pinned your legs to your sides and sloppily fucked into you.

You held up your legs for him as he lost his balance, his hand gripped onto your abdomen for support “fu- fuck love, can feel you throbbing” he hissed.

You’d never seen Steven so fucked out before. It was a sight to see, his hair disheveled and mouth agar as his eyes studied the way your pussy gushed out his previous loads mixed with your own.

This was the messiest either of you had gotten in bed. His thighs were drenched in mixed slick, thick strings of it sticking to the back of your thighs and stringing off his as he began pounding you harder.

Steven was muttering nonsense as he watched the ring of cum on his cock disappearing every time he fucked himself into you.

He felt dizzy each time you let out a soft whimper with each of his thrusts. “That’s it honey, just o- one more for me love” Steven hissed as he picked up the pace.

Your nails dug into his forearms as he pounded into you with eyes full of love and lust. You bounced along with his messy thrusts, pulling him down to your face and kissing him sloppily.

Steven whimpered into your mouth as he felt himself getting closer to his high with each thrust. You held onto him for dear life as he pinned you onto the bed with his strength, your hips bounced off the bed with each of his slams.

“St- steev- aa-“ you cried out as you clenched around his cock, you were on who knows what orgasm. Your overstimulated pussy throbbed around Steven, causing a gruntled moan to spill from his lips.

He fucked another load into your tired cunt, sweet praises spilling past his lips as the mess between you two began to drip onto the bed.

“Sh- fuck love” steven panted shakily. His body tensed at the feeling of you squeezing him “love you with all my heart darling, just gotta make sure you make me a daddy” he cooed.

#smut #marvel smut #moon knight smut #moonknight x reader #moon knight #moonknight smut #steven smut #steven grant smut #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant #kink tober #kinktober

[celebh0ttie]

OSCAR ISAAC

#oscar isaac #so hot 🔥🔥🔥 #celebrity crush #beautiful man #flawlesscelebs #star wars #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #moon knight #steven grant #poe dameron #poe x reader #poe dameron x reader #oscar isaac smut #miguel o'hara x reader #steven grant x you #marc spector #marc spector x reader #pedro pascal

[mxpothos]

Drawn To Each Other: Chapter 2

Summary:

"Thanks again, Steven, I’ll see you later."

She forced herself to let go. She looked up at Steven, their faces only inches apart.

Steven reluctantly loosened his grip and stepped back from her. He didn’t try to hide the slightly dazed expression on his face.

A look passed between them, and a feeling that things were different now.

She smiled, waved, and headed out the door into the rain.

Pairing: Steven Grant/Original Female Character, Steven Grant/Reader  Word Count: 7.7k  Rating: General, future chapters will be 18+  Tags/Warnings: Slow Burn, Mutual Pining,  Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Eventual Romance, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut

Read Chapter 1 here!

[Image ID: A text conversation with a contact named Fatima. The first message from Fatima says "Hey J - I'm staying over with Toni tonight. Can you feed Roxy when you get home? 🐩" The reply message says "For sure, have fun!" Then two more messages from Fatima say " Cheers" "Say hi to museum boy for me lol" The final reply message shows 3 emojis making the same exasperated face - 😑😑😑" End ID ]

She isn’t sure exactly when it happened, but at some point in the last few weeks Jess’s lunchtime museum visits had, more accurately, become Steven visits.

She went back to the museum the day after their first meeting. Steven seemed surprised, but very happy, to see her. She did her best to keep it light and casual. A brief greeting on the way in, and a quick sketch show-and-tell chat on her way out.

At first, she attempted to stick to her usual routine of 2-3 museum visits a week. She forced herself to eat in the office cafeteria the rest of the week and definitely did not think about Steven the whole time, of course not.

Then she started putting off her cafeteria days in favor of museum days. Oh, I'll go see Steven today and just eat at the cafeteria tomorrow. Then tomorrow would come - Well it's such a nice day, it would be a waste to spend it indoors. May as well walk to the museum. Pretty soon, Jess was visiting Steven every day. Their chats got longer, and her time spent sketching got shorter. Though, of course, she still kept up with her sketching. For plausible deniability, if nothing else.

Jess was flipping through her recent sketches when she realized she had documented her own descent into crush-land. Each page gradually became less detailed and more impressionistic. At first she wandered deep into the exhibits in search of a drawing subject, but then started sketching artifacts that were closer and closer to the shop. Eventually, she started sketching still lifes of museum merchandise and portraits of visitors within sight of the gift shop counter while listening to Steven wax poetic about whatever subject was on his mind that day. 

Their chats meandered from topic to topic. Steven loved to tell her about the history behind the artifacts she drew. Their religious or political significance, where they were discovered, how they came to be part of the museum's collection, and the fight for repatriation.

Steven often told her about the latest book he had read, which seemed to be a new one every day she saw him. He also sheepishly shared his wish to become a tour guide, and Jess encouraged him not to give up on it. He was too good to be cooped up in a gift shop all day.

Jess talked to him about music, movies, and events she went to around the city, with the occasional political rant thrown in. They swapped stories about their pets, her cat and his goldfish Gus. They also both loved to trade workplace gossip and bemoan their work commute struggles.

Steven always listened to her intently and asked insightful questions. Jess had grown used to having fairly one sided conversations with men, many often seemed to wait their turn to speak instead of actively listening and engaging with her thoughts. It was refreshing to have such a generous conversation partner like Steven.  

At first, Jess worried she was reading too much into things. Maybe she was taking it too far by visiting him every day. After all, he’s at work, right? He can’t very well leave, or tell her off if he doesn’t want her there. He’s always nice to her and seems happy to see her, but that’s his whole job isn’t it? He has to be like this with everyone.

Jess quickly realized that Steven wears his heart on his sleeve and his feelings on his face. Like, all over his face. If he didn’t want her around, he would not be able to hide it.

Jess learned this the first time Steven’s boss dropped by the shop while she was visiting him. One moment Steven was as bright and animated as could be, but then the second he caught a glance of Donna his whole demeanor deflated into one of pure distaste.

Today, Steven watched Donna with a deeply unimpressed look on his face as she prattled on about inventory, and scolded him for not selling more of the jelly scorpion candies.

“I mean c’mon Stevie. How many families with children come through here every day? Would it kill you to push the sweets when they’re checking out their purchases? Honestly.” Donna she tapped her pen on the counter for emphasis.

Steven gave her a grimace that only barely passed for a smile.

“Alright, sure thing, Donna. And for the hundredth time… it’s Steven. Not Stevie.”

Donna rolled her eyes as she marched off to harass someone else.

Jess had been taken aback at Steven’s directness with Donna. She had only ever seen him be sweet and chatty, or bashful and a bit awkward. She had assumed he was like that with everyone.

Jess leaned forward to rest her forearms on the counter, and looked back at a now exasperated Steven.

“Wow, she seems insufferable. Good on you for telling her off about getting your name wrong, though.” Jess said, trying to lift his spirits again.

Steven looked up at Jess, slightly surprised, and waved off her comment.

“Ah it’s nothing, I swear I have to remind her nearly every day. I’ve been working here for how long, and she still can’t get it right? Ridiculous. And JB, the security guard? He’s even worse.” he scoffed.

Jess felt a mixture of sadness that these people thought so little of Steven they didn't even try to get his name right, and admiration that Steven refused to be worn down by their thoughtlessness.

“No, that's seriously impressive, Steven," she insisted. "There’s this VP at work who always calls me Jen, and I’ve never bothered to correct him. I don’t know why… It’s intimidating I guess. He’s way higher up than me.”

Steven looked at her in confusion.

“What’s his position got to do with it? It’s not your fault that twit can’t remember your name, you don’t have anything to feel bad about.”

Jess gave a wry laugh.

“I mean, technically, no. But he’d probably get offended if I corrected him. I dunno. It doesn’t feel worth it. It’s not like I’m going to stay at that company for the rest of my life.” Jess rubbed her arm self consciously.

Steven furrowed his brow and moved a bit closer to her.

“Well, so what if he gets offended? That’s not your problem, yeah? He’s calling you by the wrong bloody name. Why should you be expected to coddle his feelings?”

When he said it like that, it suddenly seemed so simple. Why should she feel bad about it? Why did it feel so big and scary to assert herself in such a small way? Steven was here doing it every day, apparently. Why couldn’t she?

Jess folded and unfolded her arms where they leaned on the counter. She looked back into Steven’s eyes for a moment and smiled shyly.

“I hadn’t really thought about it like that… thanks.”

Steven gave her a small grin. He gently reached his hand out to rest on her forearm and squeezed it reassuringly. Before her mind could process his gesture, Steven jerked his hand back and started stammering out an apology.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean...I wasn’t trying to -”

Jess could still feel the warmth of his hand on her arm as he stepped away from her.

“Hey, you’re fine, it’s okay.” Jess tried to put him at ease. Thankfully it was a particularly slow day at the museum, so there wasn’t anyone around to notice them.

“No, I'm sorry, that was inappropriate. I’m an employee, you’re a visitor… I shouldn’t have…” Steven trailed off and fiddled with a stack of keychains behind the counter.

“Steven…" Jess felt herself approaching the invisible line at the end of the casual acquaintances zone they were occupying, and hesitated to cross over into what lay beyond. She looked at Steven's disheartened face, and took the plunge.

"Steven, seriously. I appreciate your concern but I didn't find that inappropriate.”

Jess weighed her next words carefully.

“I’d like to think we’re….friends? By now? "

Steven lifted his head to look at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"You would?" He said it questioningly and hopefully at the same time.

"Of course, I mean… we’ve been hanging out a lot. We’ve seen each other nearly every day for over a month, right? We talk about all kinds of stuff. That’s a little more than just acquaintances or a customer/employee relationship, right?”

The word “relationship” felt so loaded as it came out of her mouth. Jess tried not to think about it and barreled ahead.

“It’s normal for friends to be... well, friendly with each other, yeah?” she offered hopefully.

Steven looked at her thoughtfully, his eyes softening.

“I…yeah, heh, I s’pose so.” He fidgeted his hands together.

Before she could stop herself, Jess reached across the counter and gently gripped Steven by the forearm. She squeezed encouragingly, returning his earlier gesture. Steven looked down at her hand on his arm for several seconds before looking back up at her. She smiled at him warmly, and gave another squeeze before letting go.

Steven felt like he could cry.

They stood in a blooming silence for several moments, gazing at each other.

Jess’s phone timer abruptly pierced the quiet, signaling that her lunch break was nearly up.

“Goddammit… I need to get going” Jess muttered as she silenced her phone. She looked at Steven apologetically.

“O’course, o’course. Back to the old grind, eh?” Steven replied a bit too quickly, straightening up his posture and smoothing down the front of his button up shirt, “I probably ought to work on whatever the hell Donna was telling me about the inventory, earlier” he said with an over-dramatic eye roll for emphasis.

Jess giggled at his expressions.

“Good luck with that, I think you’ll need it.” She chuckled.

“Nah, nothing I can’t handle. I’ve dealt with far worse.” Steven said with a teasing grin.

Something about the way he said it made Jess think he wasn’t joking.

“Well, see ya tomorrow then.” Jess made sure to catch his eyes one more time before turning to leave.

“Cheers. And… thank you.” Steven replied.  

Jess paused and turned back to him.

“What for?” She queried.

Steven shrugged his shoulders.

“For being a friend. I've… not had very many.” He said plainly.

Jess held his warm gaze and grinned back at him.

“Glad to.” She said softly.

She turned to leave again and walked back to the office in a happy daze.

As she neared the building entrance, the company VP was walking out. He held the door for Jess as she approached.

“Good afternoon, Jen.” he said magnanimously.

“Afternoon.” Jess mumbled as she passed. Halfway through she stopped, thinking back to her conversation with Steven.

“It’s Jess, by the way.”

“Pardon?” the VP looked at her with confusion.

“My name, it’s Jess. Not Jen.” She looked him in the eye. “Just wanted to let you know.”

The VP nodded.

“My apologies, Jess.” He eyed her for a moment, and turned to leave. “Good afternoon.”

He said it like a dismissal rather than a greeting this time.

But Jess didn’t care. She felt so powerful she could walk through a brick wall.

She couldn’t wait to tell Steven tomorrow.

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

Steven was actually relieved to be on inventory duty, for once. It let him think about Jess with minimal interruption while he mindlessly scanned items into the system.

He had been overjoyed when she came back to chat with him the day after their first meeting, and again the week after. He didn’t say anything when she started visiting every day, or when she spent more time hanging out at the gift shop than enjoying the museum. But he had certainly noticed.

In truth, Steven was mildly terrified. Good things never seemed to last for him. And this felt far, far too good to last. After everything that had happened with Harrow and Ammit, Konshu, learning to live with Marc, and without Layla…. Trying to find his new “normal” had sometimes felt like an exercise in futility. Jess coming into his life had been an unexpected bright spot he leaned on more than he probably should. But how could he not? She was… lovely. And kind. And endlessly fascinating.

Steven realized he never had someone he could talk to like her. Someone who didn't seem to think he was weird or annoying or make faces when he rambled too much. Someone who actually spoke back to him, unlike Gus or the living statue bloke he used to see in the park. Especially someone who actually sought him out day after day, who remembered everything he told her, and who laughed at his bad jokes. This was all embarrassingly new territory for Steven.

Steven punched in the final bits of information into the inventory system and swiveled around in the desk chair. He technically had 5 minutes left in his shift. He considered sneaking out anyway. Donna would probably be too busy chatting with her buddies in the administrative office to notice where he was.

Steven shouldered his messenger bag with a sigh, and headed for the exit. He gave an obligatory wave to JB as he passed the security desk.

"Evenin', JB"

"Yeh, see ya Scotty." JB didn't even glance away from the wall of monitors in front of him.

"It's still Steven, it's always going to be Steven, JB." He monotoned without breaking his stride.

Steven stepped outside into the cool evening air. He picked up some takeaway from a curry house on his way to the bus, which came on time for once. He sat on the upper level and replayed his conversation with Jess over in his head. He could almost still feel her touch.

Steven couldn't explain what made him reach out to hold her arm like that. It just felt…natural, in the moment. He didn't even think about it. At first, anyway. That she reciprocated and seemed to genuinely consider him a friend….

Steven felt the internal duel between his fluttering heart and his worried mind. What happens now? At the very least, he was happy to have a friend. But he wanted, had long wanted, to be so much more for Jess. Could she ever feel the same?

Steven let his mind wander, imagining what it would be like to hold her in his arms, to bury his face in her neck. He thought about how she looked at him with such warmth and wit in her eyes, and wondered what it would be like to kiss her softly, then deeply.

The bus jolted to a stop and shook Steven from his hazy daydream. Who was he kidding, he'd never even seen her outside of the museum. Or in anything other than office clothes. They'd never so much as shared a meal or taken a walk together. They'd talked and talked but there were so many ways that he still didn't really know her.

I'll say it again, just ask her out once and for all.

Steven looked up at his reflection in the bus window. Scoffing, he pulled out his cellphone and pressed it to his ear to avoid drawing attention to himself.

"Oh sure, just like that, eh?" he attempted to whisper.

Marc shrugged and nodded his head.

Uh, yeah, just like that. Worst case she says no and you move on with your life.

Steven groaned at Marc's glib answer.

"Marc, honestly…" he heaved a sigh, "I don't want to muck things up with her, what if she isn't interested? I don't want to scare her off."

Marc raised an eyebrow.

You're not asking her to marry you, just ask her out for coffee or tea or something.

Steven knew Marc was right, but it felt like such a monumental hurdle to cross he could scarcely imagine it.

Marc shook his head and softened his voice.

I know it feels scary, but I'm pretty sure she's into you too. And if she isn't…we'll get through it. It'll be okay. You'll never know if you don't try, right?

Steven nodded reluctantly.

"I s'pose you're right." He furrowed his brow and looked back at Marc, "How did you know I was thinking about her anyway?"

Marc snorted out a laugh and threw his hands up.

Who ELSE do you think about or talk about anymore?

Touché.

"Oh sod off, you." Steven mumbled with a grin.

Marc laughed again, and in a flicker Steven's reflection resumed its usual appearance.

Steven stuffed his cellphone back into his bag and looked out the window. After a few more minutes he signaled for his stop, and carried his curry takeaway home to Gus.

His head was still swirling with thoughts of Jess, and Marc's advice, by the time he settled down to sleep.

Maybe tomorrow he could time his tea break to coincide with her lunch break, and ask her to join him in the museum cafe. That's something friends might do, right? Nice and low-key, nothing major. A small step forward in their new friendship.

Steven rolled over and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

"Motherfuck…." Jess hissed under her breath. She stared at the meeting invite that had just landed in her inbox.

Emergency all-hands meeting, 12-1pm Mandatory attendance

Wonderful. There had been rumors that company layoffs might be coming. Jess had noticed several of her coworkers getting called into meetings with management all morning, and none had come back to their desks since.

This all-hands meeting was scheduled exactly when Jess normally took her lunch break. She supposed a late lunch wouldn't be the end of the world, but it still ticked her off.

"Alright folks, gather 'round."

Her boss's voice suddenly filled the floor.

"I'm afraid I'll need everyone to report back here immediately after the all-hands meeting. We've had some… staffing changes this morning, and we'll be spending the rest of the day reviewing all ongoing projects for immediate reassignment. If you haven't had lunch yet, I would strongly suggest bringing something back from the cafeteria. We'll all be having a working lunch today."

He shuffled back into his office and closed the door behind him.

"MotherFUCK." Jess hissed again. She sank back into her chair and rubbed her temples.

Her irritation gave way to worry.

Steven.

She hadn't missed a visit with him in weeks. She didn't have his contact info, so she couldn't let him know she was going to be held up at work today.

Fuck. Why did she never get his phone number?  Hopefully he doesn't worry or feel slighted by her absence.

Doubt quickly creeped into her mind. Was she being presumptuous? Why did she assume he'd miss her today? Well, yes they'd sort of had a sweet moment yesterday, but … maybe she was reading into things too much.

She didn't have long to ponder, as her workmates began filing out of their cubicles and over to the mandatory meeting. Jess sighed and hauled herself up from her seat.

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

Steven checked his watch again.

12:35pm.

She would normally have been here by now.

Steven scanned the crowd of visitors for the 10th time in the last minute. Nothing.

He bounced his knee nervously as he sat behind the counter. He tried to convince himself that it meant nothing, maybe she was home sick or something came up at work or she just didn't feel like walking over to the museum today. But he couldn't stop the sinking feeling in his gut that she had purposely stayed away because of what he did yesterday.

"Bollocks…what an idiot." He muttered to himself.

Of course. He had totally misjudged the nature of their relationship, or lack thereof. She'd only been humoring him and now she wanted nothing to do with him. It was too good to be true, he should know this by now. Steven Grant doesn't get to have a nice normal life. He doesn't get to know what it's like to have friends or fall in love or anything like that. He's too broken, too strange… not good enough.

He spent the rest of his shift working in silence and ignoring every reflective surface in his vicinity.

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

What a terrible day. Jess couldn't decide what sounded better right now, getting wasted or decking the first stranger who looked at her wrong. She stomped down the street towards her bus stop after staying at work an hour later than usual, thanks to all the reassignment fuckery. She'd gotten a couple of projects that at least looked more interesting than her usual duties, but right now she was too frustrated to see any upsides to the situation.

She paused to check her phone, and glanced up to see the museum on the next block. Jess felt the twinge of guilt return. She would love nothing more than to see Steven right now, maybe vent a little, but mostly explain what had happened today. Jess searched her memory. The museum was closed, but she thought she remembered Steven saying he got out of work around this time. Maybe she could wait around the front steps for a little bit and catch him as he left. Or would that be too weird? She didn't want to come across like a stalker. Or, again, maybe she's overthinking this whole thing. He probably just shrugged off her absence.

As Jess debated what to do, she saw her bus approaching in the distance. She sighed and decided to just get herself home before she could make any stupid, stress-fueled decisions.

Jess jogged the rest of the way to the bus stop and made it just in time.

As she climbed on and found a seat, Steven exited the museum.

"Bloody hell, as if I needed today to get any worse." He watched the bus drive away without him.

Steven resigned himself to walking home. He didn't want to stand around waiting for the next bus.

Jess rested her head against the bus window as it rolled down the street.

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

"Hey girl you're home late - woah, you alright?" Fatima eyed Jess with concern as she gloomily stepped inside their shared flat, locking the door behind her with a bit more force than needed.

"Yeah…just had a rough day." Jess exhaled as she dropped her bag on the floor and yanked off her shoes.

"Uh-oh, did your museum boy do something wrong?"

Jess bristled at her flatmate's mention of Steven.

"No, Fatima. I didn't even see him today. I had to work through lunch and stay late at the office. They sacked a bunch of people, and all of their projects had to get reassigned."

Jess collapsed on the couch next to Fatima and attempted to zone out to whatever reality dating show she was watching.

Fatima slid closer to Jess and threw a friendly arm around her shoulder.

"Aww, poor dearie, I'm sorry you missed him today. I'm sure his memory is better than your last fella. He'll still remember you tomorrow." Fatima jostled Jess's shoulders as she spoke in an exaggerated motherly tone. Jess couldn't help cracking a smile.

"Oh, shut it already." Jess said with a laugh.

Fatima grinned as she rose from the couch.

"That's my girl. Dunno why you haven't asked him out yet, but, as you like to remind me, that's none of my business." Fatima held her palms up in the air as she walked to the kitchen. She paused to turn back to Jess.

"I made dinner by the way, want some?"

Jess smiled gratefully at her flatmate and nodded.

"Yes, you're the best Fatima."

"Damn right I am." she shouted as she disappeared around the corner.

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

Jess stared at the time on her computer, practically counting down the seconds until lunch. The office was still working through the chaos from the day before, but she was determined to see Steven today.

At the stroke of noon she grabbed her bag and headed out the door. She didn't even bother picking up any food, she just booked it straight to the museum.

She hustled up the front steps and through the entrance doors, dodging tourists and school groups as she made her way towards the Egyptian section. She turned the corner, and over the clusters of visitors she saw Steven sitting behind the gift shop counter. He was busy ringing up a customer and hadn't seen her yet.

Jess realized she was breathing heavily from her brisk walk, and ducked back into the hallway to catch her breath.

Okay, just be normal. Everything is normal. Just be normal.

She peeked back around the corner. Steven handed the customers their bagged purchases and they walked out of the exhibit. There weren't any other customers in line, and the shop was quiet again. Jess took a deep breath and walked in.

Reminiscent of their first meeting, Steven did a double take when he caught sight of Jess approaching the counter.

"You're back, I-I mean, hi!" The relief in his voice was palpable.

Jess felt her heart twinge at the implication his reaction carried. He did care.

"Steven, I'm so sorry about yesterday." She fiddled with the strap of her bag. "My company sacked a bunch of people."

Jess noticed a look of panic flash across Steven's face.

"Oh, no, I'm fine! My job didn't get cut. But my boss made everyone work through lunch and stay late to get things figured out. It sucked."

Steven visibly relaxed as Jess explained her previous day's absence. She wasn't sick of him, she wasn't repelled by him, and she even felt bad that she couldn't see him yesterday.

He didn't say anything after Jess finished speaking. Jess searched his face for any indication of what he might be thinking.

"So…."

"D'you want to go to the cafe?" Steven asked abruptly.

Jess blinked, "What? Sure, where?"

Steven chuckled nervously.

"Sorry, I mean, I was going to take my break at the museum cafe. Would you… want to join me? They have tea and coffee and sandwiches and things like that." He paused before adding, "You can use my employee discount!"

Jess felt a rush of pure joy crash through her.

"That sounds excellent, yes, let's go!"

Steven beamed at her and stepped out from behind the gift shop counter. Jess realized she'd never been this close to him without the counter separating them. It felt mildly salacious.

He took a few steps before pausing.

"Er, just a moment, I've gotta…" he fumbled for his employee radio and pressed a button.

"Donna, this is Steven. I'm taking my break now, can you send someone to cover the shop till I get back?"

The radio crackled and Donna's voice pierced the air.

"You're killing me Stevie, give me some warning before wandering off why don't y-"

Steven turned down the volume on the radio and shoved it back in his pocket.

"Right, let's go!"

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

Steven and Jess settled into a table by the windows and chatted as they tucked into their purchases. Steven had tea and a pastry, Jess had a sandwich and sparkling water. The museum cafe was a little pricier than Jess would normally prefer, but Steven's employee discount had knocked their bills down a decent amount.

"So… did you grow up in London?" Jess realized that in all of their conversations, Steven had never mentioned his upbringing.

Steven paused at the question.

"Er, not exactly. I'm technically from America. I was born in Chicago."

Jess certainly wasn't expecting that.

"Really? Wow, I never would have guessed. Do you get to visit home very much?"

Steven looked down at his tea.

"No, not for a while. My family…. Well, we're not very close."

Noted.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Steven braced himself for her reaction.

"It's hard when we don't get the families we deserve…or when they can't love us for who we are." Jess tried to offer some understanding without making Steven feel like he needed to elaborate.

Steven breathed an internal sigh of relief. He didn't feel ready to explain everything yet. People could be surprisingly judgemental if you admitted to being estranged from your family. He was glad Jess seemed to understand why it might happen.

"What about you, where did you grow up?" Steven returned the question.

Jess told him about her childhood and where her family was from, and how she came to live in London.

"I share a flat with my friend Fatima, but I think she's going to move out with her girlfriend when our lease ends. They've been together a while now."

Jess absentmindedly stirred her drink with her straw. It was nice getting to hang out with Steven without the looming threat of a customer or Donna interrupting them. She could get used to this.

"Yeah, it's just me and Gus at my old flat. It's nice to be on your own but it can get lonely at times. Don't tell Gus I said that, though."

Steven gave Jess a conspiratorial wink. Jess's brain immediately melted into goo.

"Your secret is safe with me." Jess giggled.

"So, if Fatima moves in with her girlfriend, will you move in with anyone else? Like a girl.. boy…friend?" Steven took a long sip of his tea, trying to look casual.

Jess smirked.

"No, I think I'll probably try to get my own place. Most of my other friends live with their partners. I'm not dating anyone, so, no other flatmate candidates to speak of."

Steven was secretly relieved to hear she wasn't already seeing anyone. He would still be happy being friends with her, but…maybe they had a chance.

The sound of heavy rain hitting the pavement caught Jess's attention. She looked out the window, and realized it had abruptly started pouring outside. Great.

"Ughhh crap, I left my umbrella at the office." She leaned back into her seat with an exasperated sigh.

Steven turned to the rain outside, and looked back at Jess.

"You can borrow mine, I have one stashed in my locker."

"No way, you'll probably need it later." Jess waved her hand nonchalantly, "I'll be fine. It won't be the first time someone got surprised by the rain during their lunch break."

Steven gently, but firmly, insisted.

"I won't be going anywhere besides home later today, I don't mind dealing with a drizzle on the way. But you've got to go back to work and sit in an air conditioned building for a few more hours. Seriously, I'll go grab my umbrella. Won’t take half a minute."

Steven had already started walking out of the cafe before Jess could protest. She sat back and couldn't help smiling to herself. What a sweetheart this man was.

Steven returned shortly, and plopped a medium sized umbrella on the table.

"There you are! And don't worry about getting it back to me."

"Thank you, really. But I'm definitely going to worry about getting it back to you." Jess laughed as she placed a hand on the umbrella. "I'll feel terrible if you get rained on without it."

Steven playfully bowed his head in defeat and chuckled.

"Alright, if it makes you feel better." He felt a flutter in his chest at the thought of her worrying about him.

Jess normally left work a bit before the museum closed, so she was pretty sure she could swing by and return Steven's umbrella on her way home. Steven said he'd wait for her around the front entrance to make things easier.

"I really appreciate it, Steven."

They walked slowly from the cafe towards the exit.

"It's no trouble, don't need you getting caught in a downpour if it can be avoided."

They paused as they neared the entrance doors.

"Well, laters gators!" Steven gave a little wave.

Before she could think it through, Jess impulsively stepped forward and pulled Steven into a hug.

It was brief, but it was easily the best either of them had felt in a long time.

Steven was momentarily stunned, then carefully wrapped his arms around her. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the moment. He tried to commit it all to memory… the way she felt pressed up against him in his arms, the way she smelled, the way she held onto him.

Jess was surprised at how muscular Steven felt. His strong chest and arms locked her in his embrace. He also smelled incredible. Like a vintage cologne in an old library, with a natural masculine undertone. He felt…safe.

She could stay here forever.

"Thanks again, Steven, I’ll see you later." Jess forced herself to let go. She looked up at Steven, their faces only inches apart.

Steven reluctantly loosened his grip and stepped back from Jess. He didn’t try to hide the slightly dazed expression on his face.

A look passed between them, and a feeling that things were different now.

Jess smiled, waved, and headed out the door into the rain.

Steven stood rooted to the floor for several moments, before finally shuffling back to the gift shop.

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

Jess fired off one more email and logged out for the day.

She quickly gathered up her things and Steven’s rain soaked umbrella. It was still pouring as she stepped outside to head back to the museum. She checked the time on her phone before plunging back into the downpour.

Shit, the museum closes in 10 minutes. Better hustle.

Jess opened her umbrella and marched up the street.

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

Steven lingered by the museum entrance. Donna had already passed by once and snarked at him to get back to work. He waved her off with a Sure thing Donna I’ll be right on it and continued pacing the floor, and checking outside from time to time.

“The hell are you doing, Scotty?” JB leaned out from behind his wall of security monitors.

“Just waiting for a friend.” Steven said dismissively, “And for god’s sake it’s Steven!”

“Right, right, sorry Steven.” JB slouched back in his chair and resumed watching cute animal videos on his phone.

Steven peered through the museum doors and down the steps again, but there was no sight of Jess so far. The museum was due to close in 5 minutes. If she didn’t make it in time, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. He didn’t really care about the umbrella. But, he had been looking forward to seeing her again today.

“Stevie! Get down to inventory and finish up right now, you can wander around idly when you’re off the clock.” Donna shouted down the hall, the click of her heels getting louder as she approached.

“Yes, I will in a moment Donna, I’m just waiting for someone -”

“I don’t care, you don’t get paid to socialize. Get going this instant!” She stood with her hands on her hips and popped her gum obnoxiously.

“I know, I just -”

“Now!”

“Donna, ple-”

“Now, and I won’t say it again.” She pointed down the hall.

Steven looked out the doors and back at Donna, heaving a sigh.

“Fine, fine, I’m going.”

Donna watched him with crossed arms.

Steven stopped by the security desk as he headed back into the museum.

“JB, could you please do me a massive favor? My friend was going to meet me to drop off my umbrella. Her name is Jess. If she comes in looking for me can you let her know I got held up with work?”

JB barely glanced up from his phone.

“Sure, sure mate. No problem.”

Steven was not entirely convinced, but he didn’t exactly have much of a choice.

“Thanks, JB.”

Steven took one last glance out the museum doors before heading back towards the shop.

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

Jess took the front steps two at a time and pushed through the doors with 4 minutes to spare. She closed her umbrella as she looked around the entrance. There were a handful of stragglers making their way out of the museum, but no sight of Steven. She scanned her eyes back and forth as she walked inside.

“Pardon me, miss, the museum is closing. I’m afraid you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Jess looked over to see the security guy, she remembered Steven saying his name was JB, holding an arm out to keep her from walking further.

“Oh, sorry. I was just looking for my friend, he works here.”

“Sure miss, I’m sure he’ll be here tomorrow and you can see him then.”

“No, he’s expecting me. I have to give this back to him.” she gestured towards the folded umbrella in her hand.

“Well, I’m afraid I still can’t let you in this late in the day. I suggest you let your friend know and come back at a better time.”

Now Jess was losing her patience.

“Ok, I just need to give this to Steven. You know, Steven? He works in the gift shop in the Egyptian section?”

JB stared at her for a moment.

“D’you mean Scotty? Oh, sure, that’s right. He mentioned someone might be stopping by.”

JB snickered as he looked Jess up and down.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t quite believe him. Didn’t think the lad had any friends, ‘specially ones as lovely as yourself.”

Ok, now Jess was pissed.

“Look, can I just go give this to him please?” Jess gave JB the most active bitch face she could muster.

JB didn’t seem to notice.

“Sorry, miss. I still can’t let you in. Maybe you could call him and ask him to come ‘round real quick?”

“I… don’t have his number.”

Goddammit, why hadn't she thought to ask for it earlier?

“Alright, if I left this umbrella with you would you be able to give it to him?” At this point Jess just wanted to end the interaction as painlessly as possible.

“Sure, miss. I’ll get it to him, don’t you worry.” JB said with a smarmy grin.

It was all Jess could do to not openly roll her eyes at him.

“Thanks. Do you happen to have any paper and a pen? So I could write him a note?”

“‘Fraid not miss. We went paperless long ago. Digital age and all that.”

“.....great. Well, thanks for all your help.”

Or, lack thereof.

Jess turned and walked out of the museum, feeling extremely deflated.

Well, that’s that. First order of business tomorrow - it was time to get Steven’s phone number. Jess had had about enough of the communication breakdowns this week.

Also, she suspected that texting with Steven would be as fun as chatting with him in person.

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

“...as you can see on our roadmap for Q3, we’ll be focusing on lean initiatives during this quarter. Our goal for Q4 is to leverage these into -”

Jess logged out of Zoom the second the clock hit noon. She didn’t care that the meeting wasn’t done, it was going over its scheduled time and she had things to do.

She listened to some music on her walk to the museum, trying to amp herself up to ask Steven for his digits. It wasn’t a huge thing to ask, but for some reason everything to do with Steven gave her massive butterflies.

As she approached the front entrance, Jess noticed a fleet of charter buses looping around the block. Crowds of school children and chaperones were scattered across the museum grounds.

Great…. Hopefully they hadn’t infiltrated the museum yet.

When she finally made her way into the Egyptian exhibit she saw that Steven was absolutely overrun with pint-sized customers. A disorganized line of hyperactive pre-teens milled around the gift shop. Steven was ringing up a trio of girls who had each picked out Taweret plushies. He seemed to be regaling them with a story about Taweret’s flooding of the Nile as he finished their transactions. The girls giggled and hugged their plushies as he passed each one over to them.

Jess smiled as she took in the scene. Steven looked up as the girls walked away and saw Jess standing on the other side of the crowd. He grinned and waved at her, then mouthed Sorry as he gestured to the horde of students waiting to make their purchases.

It’s ok! Jess mouthed back to him as she waved.

Since it looked like she was in for a wait, Jess settled down on a bench opposite the shop. She pulled out her sketchbook to pass the time. She did a few quick warm-up sketches of the Amenhotep III bust nearby, but her attention kept drifting back to Steven. He was managing the youthful chaos with remarkable ease and charm. Jess gazed at him for a moment, studying the way his hair fell above his brow, the curve of his nose, his ever-present stubble, and the way his lips lifted into an easy grin.

Jess put her pencil to paper and began sketching. Her brows knit together in deep focus. She did a few practice sketches of Steven’s face, each from a slightly different angle. When she was satisfied, she turned the page to start a more detailed sketch. She laid out the basic shapes,  then gradually filled in the details and shading. After a little while she sat back to look at the page, pleased with the results.

Jess checked her watch and discovered her break was nearly up. The horde of students in the gift shop was still going strong, as more and more groups passed through. It didn’t look like she’d get a chance to chat with Steven today.

Weighing her options, Jess decided on a course of action. She carefully tore her portrait of Steven out of her sketchbook. She scribbled a note at the bottom then folded the page in half.

Rising from the bench, Jess gingerly waded through the crowd until she got to the shop counter. Steven was watching a boy haggle with his mother about how many chores he would do if she bought him a replica Anubis statue.

Steven turned to glance in Jess’s direction and immediately lit up with a big grin when he caught sight of her. Jess felt that familiar flutter in her stomach and steadied herself against the counter.

“Hiya, sorry about all this.” Steven jerked his head back towards the line of customers.

“It’s no problem, hopefully Donna is pleased with the sales numbers for once.” Jess said playfully.

“Right? She better be.” Steven chuckled. "Oh, and JB let me know you stopped by yesterday evening. Sorry I missed you. Donna practically dragged me back to the inventory room."

"Oh, it’s no problem. I'm actually surprised JB remembered to mention it." Jess laughed derisively.

“So was I, honestly.” Steven admitted with a scoff.

Jess glanced back at the boy negotiating with his mother at the front of the line. It looked like they were coming to some sort of chore agreement, so she didn’t have much longer with Steven.

“Well, hopefully tomorrow will be calmer. Um, here, check out my sketch from today when you get a chance later.” Jess handed Steven the folded page.

Their fingers brushed as Steven took it from her. They each pretended not to notice.

“Brilliant, thanks Jess. I can’t wait to see it.” He beamed at her as he carefully tucked the paper into his jacket pocket.

“See ya, Steven. Good luck with this horde.” Jess nodded towards the crowd.

Steven laughed.

“Laters gators.”

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

Steven didn’t get to take a breath until nearly the end of his shift. This had probably been the busiest day he had ever seen at the museum. Donna was thrilled with their metrics, predictably, but Steven was exhausted.

He was glad he managed to stumble out of the museum in time to catch the next bus home. He collapsed into an empty seat on the upper level with a groan.

What a day.

He leaned back into the seat and slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. He felt a folded piece of paper in his left pocket. Oh - right! Jess’s drawing. He smiled to himself as he pulled it out.

“Let’s see what she drew today,” he mumbled.

He opened it up, and at first he couldn’t process what he was seeing. It was… him? It was him. There on the page, in loving detail, was his own face looking out at him. He felt a flood of emotions rushing through him as he stared.

He looked… cool. Like, he looked pretty handsome. He never thought of himself that way. Between the two of them Marc was definitely the suave, good-looking one. Steven always felt like a walking disaster. But there was no mistaking this as a portrait of anyone other than Steven. It felt strange seeing himself through someone else’s eyes. But if this was how Jess saw him - wow.

After a moment he realized there was a note at the bottom of the page. He straightened out the paper to read it.

It was her phone number.

Steven gasped out a happy laugh.

Beneath the digits it read:

Text me! Or at least send me pics of Gus :)

Xoxo, Jess.

☾ ⋆｡ ｡⋆ ☽

Jess was sprawled out on the couch watching a movie. Fatima was out with her girlfriend tonight, so she had the house to herself.

She had purposely left her phone on the other side of the room to keep herself from checking it obsessively. If Steven wanted to text her, he would text her. If not, no big deal. Not everyone likes texting. There are other ways to communicate.

Jess paused the movie and got up to grab a snack from the kitchen. While she was digging through the fridge, she heard a tell-tale buzzbuzz from the living room. Followed by another, and then another.

Alright, that was more likely to be Fatima triple texting her than anything else. Jess grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and padded back into the living room. She set her snack down and went to check her phone.

She had three texts from someone who wasn’t in her contacts. She felt her pulse quicken as she opened the messages.

Jess read them quickly, then burst out laughing and fell back onto the couch.

She couldn’t stop smiling as she stared at her phone.

Jess started typing a reply, giggling to herself like a teenager.

The movie she had been watching remained paused for the rest of the night.

----------

[Image ID: A screenshot of a text message conversation. There are three messages from the same sender. The first message is a picture of a goldfish swimming in a fish tank. The second message says "Gus says hello :)". The third message says "(This is Steven)" End ID]

#moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant/reader #steven grant/you #steven grant x original female character #steven grant/original female character #steven grant/ofc #steven grant x f!reader #drawn to each other

[writingrose29]

Two Birds (3/?)

Pairings: Steven Grant x Fem!Reader; Marc Spector x Fem!Reader; Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader (Slowburn, Post-Moon Knight)

Summary: Alessandra stumbled upon a familiar face, funny how history repeats itself.

Word Count: 5895

Read on: Ao3

Two Birds Masterlist

Previous Chapter: Hell House

Next Chapter: (In Progress...)

Déjà vu (Steven’s POV)

TW/CW: Implied/Reference Self-Harm, Suicidal Ideation

The rain lightly thumped against the roof of the mansion, breaking the usual silence that filled the house at night. With tired eyes, Alessandra watched as the raindrops raced each other down the window as she sat numbly on Adrian's bed. Both of them drenched in their pajamas, as if they too got caught in the rainstorm outside.

Adrian sat across from her, his fingers dancing across the different options within the first aid kit.

She kept her gaze down, unable to stomach looking at him. Unable to shake the look of horror and dreadful surprise on his face when he walked into the bathroom. Even as he helped her with a towel, as he tried to stop the bleeding while she got redressed.

"Why my bathroom?" Her voice sounded raw and hoarse. It was to be expected, she spent most of her afternoon screaming in the white room. She wasn't sure what was worse, the deprivation tank or that room.

"Huh?"

"My bathroom. It is further away from your room than two others. Why mine?"

"...I was worried about you. After…" he shrugged, "I checked your bedroom first, you werent there and well, I heard the water running…"

She felt his stare at the week old bandages that were still wrapped around her upper arms, recently irritated from her own doing. The main reason for the collar around her neck as father demanded that her own self-mutilation slowly heal, leaving the scars as a reminder of her failure during her session against Kiara.

Alessandra hasn't been able to face or go near her since.

Her eyes turned towards him when his gentle fingers grabbed her hands, bringing her wrists closer to him. The smell of blood stained the air as quickly as the drops of blood dripped onto his bed and floor. Just like rain drops.

Slowly he started to clean the deep cuts with the small pack of disinfectant wipes. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked as he lightly pressed one of the wipes on the self-inflicted wound.

Alessandra winced at the pain but said nothing. Her tongue felt as heavy as the rest of herself.

His dark amber eyes glanced up at her, searching her face for something. "I can sneak downstairs. Get the key to take that off, have you heal up-"

"I don't want to heal." The words didn't feel like her's, but it was her voice. Wasn't it?

Adrian tossed the disinfectant wiped and started stitching the wound, a wary expression etched on his face.

"I'm tired," she continued. She was tired, so very tired. Tired of waking up, of her dad, of his training, of his 'field trips' that ended in bloodshed. She was tired of the numbness that made everything feel so slower.

Adrian nodded, "I'm tired too," he admitted softly, keeping his eyes on her wounds. Hands never trembling, he was used to doing the rough repairs when Ollie wasn't allowed to heal them.

"Tired?" She stressed the word. Her eyes searched his face, looking for any signs of understanding.

Adrian met her eyes, and she saw the same look that greeted her every morning in the mirror.

"Tired," he repeated in agreement before turning his focus back to bandaging the wound.

She remained quiet, as did he while he finished up his work. They stayed silent, sitting next to each other, her hands in his.

"There are times where…" his voice trailed off, drowning in the pitter patter of the rain.

She thought about asking, to push him to continue.

She didn't. There was an unspoken understanding, she didn't need him to speak the words for her to understand.

Adrian squeezed her hand gently, shifting his body to face her once again. "How about this? You and me against the world, yeah? I have your back and you have mine so whenever we get…tired, we'll be together."

The room was different, much different. Instead of his bed they were in that house. The walls were covered in pictures of him and his new family, of his daughter, of his college buddies just like they had been before.

They sat on the leather couch, the TV in front of them was on, the news was playing yet the news anchor's voice sounded garbled.

She wanted to grab his wrist and run, yank him away from this place. Yet she found herself saying, "Pinky promise?" Alessandra held out her pinky finger.

"Pinky promise," he nodded, twisting his pinky with her's. Their hands, their fingers so small.

The smell of smoke started oozing in, her smile fading as the strong scent of charred wood and flesh greeted her nose.

A consuming burning sensation rippled through her wrist caused her eyes to snap open only to be greeted to her flesh slowly melting off her body as two burning charred hands locked themselves to her wrist. The layers of muscle and bone revealed themselves only to almost be consumed by the flames. A scream died in her throat when she looked up to see Adrian, years olders, charred with cracks revealing the burning embers within him as his whole body was alight.

"Where were you," his voice resembled the flames that were consuming him. Wild and searring. He opened his mouth, his jaw falling to the floor and collapsing into cinder as a guttural cry escaped his throat.

"Ally! Alessandra!" Allen's panicked voice rang in her head, his arms wrapped around her chest preventing her arms from flailing. Alessandra's eyes shot open, her voice felt raw and her vision blurred from both shit vision and tears.

A cry was stuck in her throat as Allen continued to hold her, rocking her gently as he rubbed her arms. The soft velvet gloves he wore were soft against her skin. "Fucking christ," he whispered, his words slurred together slightly.

"It's alright, you're awake now," he tried to keep his voice calm, but she could hear the high pitch tone that he always had when stressed.

She rapidly looked around, only finding herself slightly calming down when she realized she was at the hotel in London. Relieved to smell the traces of pot on Allen's clothing, not the stench of burning flesh, despite the headache that the scent usually brought.

She saw Lou's screen facing her, a simple frown displayed on his screen.

"I need the bathroom," was all she managed to say as she pushed herself from his grasp and rushed to their shared hotel bathroom.

Alessandra glanced at herself in the mirror before shifting her eyes downwards in disgust. Her eyes caught the silver scarring on her wrists which caused her to release another shaky exhale.

She grasped the side of the sink harshly as she kept her eyeline low. She watched as her tears dripped into the empty sink. As she released a shaky breath she slammed her hands onto the sink repeatedly, the sharp pain from each collision barely muted the numbness.

Deep breathe in and out, in and out. Shove it all away, suck it up and lock all those feelings up. Too many emotions only meant too many problems.

Soon she felt herself calm down, yet she couldn't bear to look at herself in the mirror.

God she needed a drink, or ten. Maybe a couple of edibles while she was at it.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed in the bathroom, yet she refused to leave until she was fine. That everything was fine.

It shouldn't have surprised her to have that dream again, especially since she went back home. She should've prepared herself better, taken some stronger edibles. Maybe she should've drank stronger spirits.

With a deep breath she turned on the faucet, splashing water on her face in an effort to minimize her bloodshot eyes. The hungover slowly reared its head as she washed her hands repeatedly.

It was only when her hands were nearly raw from all the washing did she leave the bathroom.

"...Are you wearing my pants?" She asked the moment she spotted Allen, who was by the mirror putting his hair into a loose bun. He paused and turned around slightly to send her a sheepish smile.

Allen looked down, swaying his hips allowing the flowy floral pants to sway. "Yes."

She tilted her head, "Huh, you wear them better than I can." She glanced at her suitcase, "Fuck it, you can take anything floral.  It fits you better."

It wasn't a lie, he did look ten times better than she did in most floral prints. How he managed to make a loose open leather vest work with loose vibrant floral pants, she wasn't quite sure.

His smile morphed into a grin as he bowed his head, "Ooooh Merci."

She merely nodded her head, glancing at Lou who was playing pong on his screen. With a quiet sigh of relief she went to her suitcase, looking through the pile of clothing for anything to wear.

"Are we…" Allen spoke slowly, "going to talk about what happened?"

She sent him a small glare, "Nothing happened."

Allen raised an eyebrow, "So I just woke up on the couch drowning in fear, panic, and-"

"Nothing happened," she repeated, her glare hardening.

Allen merely raised her hands in defeat, "Okayyy, okay. Just…offering."

You are going to talk about it eventually

Alessandra turned her glare to Lou, throwing a shoe at him.

Lou tried to catch the flip-flop but failed as it smacked him in the middle of his screen.

You're lucky I don't have middle fingers anymore.

"Woooah woooah. Calm down the robot abuse huh."

Alessandra just rolled her eyes, before settling on a vibrant red long sleeves top, long hot pink bell bottom pants, and a matching pink faux feather jacket.

"Taking a shower," she called out with the shirt and pants in hand, slamming the door behind her.

Alessandra loved showers, especially hot showers that feel like they are burning and melting the problems away. If she had a choice she would stay in the shower as long as possible, until her entire body was pruned.

Yet she couldn't find herself relaxing this time around. Instead she wanted it over with as quickly as possible. She wanted this entire day done as quickly as possible.

Funerals, god she was tired of them. However, one good thing was coming out from all this and that was her gaining access to his other mansion. The quicker she gets his accounting records, the quicker she can place all her focus on this stupid mystery.

At least on the flight here she was able to do some more research, yet when it came to Nathaniel Essex it was only dead ends.

Alessandra scrunched her wet hair. She can get through today, she has survived worse. A lot worse.

She smiled as she glanced in the mirror, pleased at her look. While she decided against makeup, she did go with foundation and concealer out of habit.

"How do I look?" Alessandra asked as she slammed the bathroom door behind her, spinning around.

...Like a printer wasted all its magenta ink on you

She rolled her eyes before directing her attention on Allen. Allen sighed, "Dad would've set fire to it for offending his vision…with you in it."

Alessandra clapped her hands, "Perfect." She grabbed her coat, "Could you fill my flask with the vodka?"

Allen shrugged, grabbing her flask from the bedside table. As she waited she glanced at the floor, noticing a board in front of Lou.

"Is that an ouija board?"

Allen nodded as he handed her the now full flash, "What? Not everyone can understand Lou like you."

She placed the flask inside the jacket pocket. "You couldn't use the whiteboard he packed?"

Allen opened and closed his mouth, turning his head to Lou who refused to respond.

She patted his vest, "Uh huh. Well, try not to summon a demon or worse, Dad."

"I'm sure he's busy getting wasted with Satan."

Alessandra shrugged, grabbing her wallet and phone as she made her way to the door.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Allen's voice caught her attention.

Alessandra shook her head, "I'd rather be alone for the time being."

She opened the door, sending him a wide smile.

He just stared at her uneasily before popping a couple pills.

The London weather was gloomy and seemed to be on the verge of raining. It almost made her laugh. After all, it was truly fitting weather for his funeral. Miserable weather for a miserable person.

Alessandra made her way to the nearby park, mango smoothie in hand from the store she had just exited. Thankfully the smoothie was delicious, making the stop worth it even after she snapped at that busy nosed old woman. The woman had the audacity to shame her for her clothing and then to scold her for being a tourist. If she had known that telling someone "My father just died you annoying bitch. Died all alone like you probably will with that attitude, at least he has people coming to his funeral. Can't think the same for you" would get someone to shut up so quickly, she would've done it earlier.

A small part of her felt bad, a very very small part. Mostly due to the tense atmosphere that was created afterwards.

No one bothered her after that though.

She took another drink of her smoothie as she stared at the bust of Beaumont. It's a shame that they ruined the beauty of the park with it.

It was uncanny the way they captured the sternness in his facial expression, the look of constant disappointment as well as disdain. Weren't these statues of recognition supposed to be flattering?

Alessandra rolled her eyes at the nagging feeling of the different stares directed towards her. Just as she tried to mute the constant buzzing of the minds around her. It seemed that today was going to be a struggle, how joyful.

That was until she recognized a very familiar buzz, a familiar brainwave that was also slightly different than before. Despite that, she would remember it anywhere, anytime. Turning around, she found herself staring at a familiar stranger. His soft brown eyes widened, his cheeks flushing red as he quickly averted his gaze the moment their eyes met.

Alessandra couldn't stop the small smile from forming on her face. The Chicago Brit, truly a small world.

It seemed she was correct in avoiding London. Well, it seemed that the universe had other plans.

There were times that her mind drifted back to the odd man from Chicago. He was definitely a breath of fresh air after everything that had gone down prior to their meeting in the park.

The odd British man, with the comical British accent, who asked to sit next to her despite her going through lengths and hoops to keep people away from her. It was rather simple, just to tingle the sympathetic nervous system enough to have one's fight or flight activated, enough to make them feel uneasy and she would be peacefully alone. Yet he decided to override it, not just that he stayed through her constant filtering of events, of herself.

His feet must've really hurt. Or, more likely, he was just a kind and lost man.

How could she turn someone like that away? Someone so kind to a random stranger, so open and wore his emotion on his sleeve.

At times she thought back and was colored in envy. Wishing that she could be like that, maybe things would be different, be better if that was the case.

Then there were times that thinking about him brought her sadness and regret. Things did not end the way she had hope, though it was probably for the best. If she had kept him in her life, she was sure she would drag him down a path that would break him. Destroy the warmth and kindness he had.

She was a Beaumont, that was what they all ended up doing in the end.

He managed to worm himself into…well not her heart, but definitely in her good graces, and maybe slightly in her heart if she was being generous.

Her mind flashed to the phone number that she kept alongside his phone. She had thought about throwing it away, yet she never was able to. Even if she knew she would never call the number.

At times she wondered if he managed to become a tour guide, if he was sharing the knowledge he loved and was passionate about. Whether his chaotic mind calmed down a bit.

At least, from what she could tell when she allowed herself to briefly glanced at his radiation signature, he made peace with one of the alters. There seemed to be one left out, barely a blimp on her radar, lurking underneath the surface. As if they were ready to come out at any time if needed. Two out of three is still pretty good.

Perhaps she could contact Haller if he wished for it.

Now she was at a crossroad. Whether to repeat the past or pretend that she never saw him. It would be better for everyone if she left now, acting like nothing had happened.

But she felt so cold and would it really be that selfish of her to enjoy the presence of a friend? Even if he didn't remember her.

It would be, she could almost hear Beaumont admonishing her.

Alessandra couldn't find it within herself to care, she wanted the warmth that came from the kindness of the stranger. She didn't want to let it go. Not again.

So she found herself walking towards him

"Hello," she greeted, her voice grabbing his attention. Her Chicago friend looked up with wide eyes, a mortified expression etched on his face. Something shiny on his chest caught her attention, a metal name tag.

Steven.

It fitted him. Steven, the British man who wore his heart on his sleeve and enjoyed Egyptology.

"Hullo," he said, "I uh," quickly he cleared his throat, "I didn't mean to stare at you. It is just…"

Alessandra waved her hand, stopping him from continuing. Still apologetic it seemed. Cute.

"It's fine," she took a drink of her smoothie, a bright orange color, "Can I sit here?" She tilted her head to the empty space next to him.

She watched in amusement as he gaped at her silently for a moment before giving her a quick nod.

How the tables turned.

She sat in silence, merely enjoying his presence and how it brought a sense of calmness to her. After everything that had happened and will happen, it was much needed.

Perhaps that universe had decided to give her some mercy. She couldn't find herself caring about the cost that would follow. Nothing good stayed, or wasn't ruined by something far worse. At least that was her experience.

"Have we met before?"

His question caught her off guard, her shoulders slightly tensing as she glanced at him. Her mind was racing. Did she fucked up? Does she redo it, risking whatever progress he had made?

"I'm sorry," Steven continued as his cheeks turned a light red, "It's just…I could've sworn I saw you before. Well, it feels like I have."

She had to stop herself from sighing in relief. Sure it seemed she didn't do a great job at wiping his memory, but she'll take some residue emotions over his brain being mush or him remembering those men. God, she didn't want to deal with redoing that discussion.

Alessandra shrugged, "Maybe. I sometimes travel for the odd job Erik gives me every so often. Or maybe I have one of those faces."

Truth with a white lie made for the best answers. Even if it seemed to not have convinced him.

Alessandra watched from the corner of her eye as he glanced every so often at his reflection in his cup of water, an odd expression on his face. A part of her wanted to reach out, to survey his mind to understand, yet she stopped herself. There was no reason to violate his privacy, not yet at least.

She took a sip of her smoothie, her fingers tapping on the plastic cup.

"Yeah perhaps. Sometimes I'm surprised my head's on straight, though at times I think it is screwed on wrong. Sorry about that."

She smiled at his words, "Crowded mind?" she asked, her voice almost teasing. She didn't mean for her words to cause a panic, yet it did. She should feel guilty, yet she felt mostly amusement. Some guilt, but mostly amusement.

"Huh?" It seemed he was barely able to choke out a response.

"Y'know, lot of thoughts." She tapped her temple, smiling softly at him. Perhaps she shouldn't tease the poor man.

Steven let out a noticeable sigh of relief, nearly causing her to snort. "Yeah, something like that."

She hummed in acknowledgement. Two liars sitting together, how fitting. Then again, the truth would be awkward to talk about.

"Why I have two jobs. Easier to stay out of your head when you're too busy to get stuck," she continued talking, her foot bouncing against the cement.

"Two jobs? Blimey I can't imagine juggling that. Is that why you left the states?"

The genuine awe and curiosity in his voice warmed her.

"Nah. I just do research at the New York's Natural History Museum plus some work at a school for gifted children somewhat nearby. Gotta pay the rent somehow."

"Bloody hell. I have always wanted to visit the Natural History Museum," excitement and passion colored every word he spoke, "What research do you conduct there? Must be a lot of options huh?"

Alessandra looked at him, his eyes basically sparkling with excitement as he leaned towards her. She couldn't stop herself from smiling, his emotions seemingly contagious. Was this how Allen felt when he didn't numb his abilities?

"Biological anthropology, but sometimes I help out in the archaeology sections if needed. Though the biggest disappointment is the fact the exhibits actually do not come to life at night." She joked slightly, leaning towards him slightly.

Alessandra was pleased to see his smile widen, "Disappointing innit. Can't believe Night of the Museum would lie."

She nodded her head in agreement, "I know right. Complete false advertisement," she took another sip from her smoothie, "What about you Steven? Where do you work?"

She hoped he said tour guide. Maybe at the British Museum or even the Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology. He deserved it.

Instead she just watched in confusion as his smile disappeared, quickly being replaced with an uneasy frown.

Did she say something wrong?

"How did you know my name?"

Alessandra gave him a blank stare, before glancing back at his name tag and pointing to it.

"Ah," he rubbed the back of his head, "Yeah that would do it huh?"

Alessandra quietly huffed, nodding her head with a smile. Even when she didn't mean to rile him up it still happened.

Steven cleared his throat once again and adjusted the collar of his shirt as he averted his gaze slightly. "I, uh, actually work at the National Art Gallery. Funny innit, the two of us in similar areas eh?"

Well, slightly disappointing. Yet she still beamed at him, "Are you a tour guide?"

Steven's cheeks turned almost a vibrant red as he slowly shook his head. Alessandra felt herself deflate as she watched him.

"Uh, I actually work in the gift shop. A professional gift shopist y'know."

More disappointing. A part of her felt righteous anger at the news. This man easily knew enough about Ancient Egypt to make someone with a PhD embarrassed yet he was stuck working in a gift shop.

She looked away from him, chewing on her lip. "Do you enjoy it?"

If he was happy, then it wasn't all that bad she guessed. Being happy was a big thing wasn't it?

"It's…fine."

Alessandra nearly scoffed. She knew those words very well. Would it be too odd if she intervened, just to give a little nudge? As a thank you for his kindness back then.

"Though we are holding a new exhibit theme for that bloke who just died. Apparently he was a big donor for the arts," Steven quickly continued.

Wait what?

Sharply she turned to look at him, eyes wide. "Percival Beaumont? He donated to the Gallery?"

Steven slowly nodded his head, "Uh yup. Big donor. Big fan of Ancient Egypt. Must've been an interesting bloke."

She paused as she took in the information. Another piece of this stupid puzzle she didn't even want to be involved in in the first place.

Essex Corporation funds and owns many different companies and organizations as well as giving shitton of money to specific people. That is a fact.

Essex Corporation seemed to have a habit of funding archaeological excavations in different areas of Egypt. Another fact.

Essex Corporation also seemed to give the old bastard a hefty paycheck every so often. Fact

Old bastard funds the Ancient Egypt exhibit at the very same place Steven works at. Fact.

Old bastard knows a Nathaniel Essex. Fact, and may or may not be related to the rest of this shit.

It seemed Erik threw a conspiracy at her and for that she found it only fair to smack the shit out of him the next time they crossed paths. She despised conspiracies, all they do is give her headaches and frustration.

Steven is working at the place her dad donated money to. What was the likelihood that the kind man she met in Chicago would also end up working in the very place her dad gave money to. Shit, he even had knowledge on Egypt, the very topic that seemed to be a reoccurring factor.

The feeling of dread crept upon her. Was Steven a plant? It would explain why he decided to talk to her despite her specifically making people avoid her. Why else would he be so kind to her, if not for an ulterior motive?

The more she thought about it, the more clear everything came to be. That this persona had to be an act, it was the only thing that made sense.

Alessandra knew how her life was, and how things in her life played out. People were rarely kind and there was no such thing as a series of coincidences.

Of course the one person she thought was kind was most likely plotting to kill her. How typical.

She didn't want to believe it, it would be foolish to ignore her doubts. Doubt and paranoia kept her alive so far, if she started doubting herself then what was real after all?

"Is…everything alright?" His voice was soft.

Liar, don't trust him.

He sounded so sincere though.

They always do.

When did she start clawing at her arms?

She forced a smile, shoving down the conflicting thoughts.

"Yeah, just realizing my stay here may end up being longer than I expected." It was true, this mess wasn't going away anytime soon which meant she wasn't either.

"What did bring you across the pond?"

Alessandra raised her eyebrows at the question. Why would he want to know that? Was it polite conversation? Or-

Her thoughts were disrupted as he quickly added, "Not that it's a bad thing or anything. It is just. It seems you are dressed for a celebration?"

She gave him a sour smile, "Close. A funeral."

She watched carefully as he paled slightly, his eyes widening. Could someone so emotionally be such a good actor? Was every emotion he showed fake? She watched as he wiped his palms on his knees. Nervous, why?

"I am so sorry," he sputtered, "I didn't mean to-"

She shook her head and laughed harshly, "Don't be, he was a piece of shit. Shit human and shittier father-adoptive…whatever." Her eyes glanced at his bust in front of them. Her grip on his smoothie tightened slightly as she glared at it. Wishing that it could burst into flames.

"Are you alright? You look like…" his voice trailed off.

Her bitter smile widened slightly, "like shit?" She responded, repeating the familiar words from their time in Chicago.

Alessandra shrugged after several moments of silence, "I'm not sure anymore. Never have been that great with discussing and identifying emotions more complex than the basics." With that she popped open her smoothie lid, took out her flask, and dumped a good amount of the vodka into her drink.

She took a large sip of the drink, scrunching her nose at the burning sensation, shaking her head as the alcohol burned her throat and warmed her stomach. Not too bad when it came to taste however.

"Uh," Alessandra waved her tall cup, "Pregaming the shitshow and nursing a hangover. Our family reunions rarely go well so…Prost!" She took another long sip.

Well, it was time to feed him some information. She really didn't want to think the worst of him, of the worst possible outcome, yet the information right now was hard to ignore. Perhaps she will play both sides, keeping the possibility of him being just a normal kind man in the air. However she refused to ignore the growing paranoia. Best to avoid disappointment if it came to having to kill him.

"I guess I thought I would be happier, I mean…" she frowned, taking another long sip, "At first I thought it was bullshit, the man didn't seem like he had enough humanity in him to kick the bucket, but…" Alessandra let out a loud sighed, rubbing her cheek, "And now I'm here, procrastinating. Not sure if I have the energy to deal with my siblings bullshit…"

"I would reckon it is okay to feel conflicted over it all," Steven placed a comforting hand over her free palm. His hand was warm, so gente. Those could not be the hands of a killer. Then again, people were rarely how they seemed when it came down to it. "Not one right way to grieve the loss of someone who was supposed to care for you or the lost potential of it."

His words seemed so genuine, spoken with such kindness and empathy. If she wasn't already feeling so conflicted, they probably would've brought her comfort. For a moment she allowed him to, just for a brief moment. Resting her drink beside her, she squeezed his hand. "Thank you," she said softly, mustering a weak smile, "Do you always comfort random strangers who bug you?"

"Sometimes we all need an ear to talk to, yeah?"

Alessandra nodded. That would be a great way to ease out information from someone. Or to comfort someone in need. She released her grip on him, grabbing her smoothie like it was a lifeline for her.

God she already was getting a migraine and the funeral hasn't even started yet.

She should probably start picking him for information, both for her curiosity and to settle the inner debate she was now constantly having. Before she could even get a word out, her phone started blasting her ringtone.

Well, I've been afraid of changin'

'Cause I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I'm getting older too-

Alessandra let out a sigh as took out her phone and saw the caller ID.

"Yes?" Alessandra gave him an apologetic smile.

"How are you feeling Miss Alessandra?" Mr. Edwin asked. It has been years since she heard his voice, the voice of the only person she, and most likely any of her siblings, would consider an actual caretaker. Maybe it was due to the fact he was the only one who showed them any kindness or compassion.

"As well as expected. I gotta say I wasn't expecting you to call."

"You are sitting near your father's bust at the park, correct? Your ride has arrived to bring you to the manor. Don't worry about your brothers, their ride has already been arranged."

Alessandra stiffened as she stood up, her eyes glancing around the park before her eyes rested on the black limousine that was slowly pulling up across from them.

"You," she sputtered, "Have you been tracking my phone?"

She did not miss him pulling shit like this however.

"Please enter the vehicle. You are needed at the manor. There is much to be discussed."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, pushing her glasses up slightly as she groaned softly.  Why must he always avoid answering simple questions? Why did she like him again?

"What-"

Before she could even finish her question, he hung up. She pulled the phone away from her ear, gaping at it. "I hate this family," she muttered in exasperation as she put her phone back into her pocket.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded absentmindedly, "Yeah, just my ride's here. I guess the shitstorm started." Alessandra looked down at him, forcing a warm smile towards him. She hated how easy it was for her to do that, she wasn't even sure if it was fake. Did she want it to be fake?

"Something tells me we'll meet again. You'll be surprised how small the world can be." She made sure to hide any bitterness from her voice. It seemed that their lives were now intertwined, whether purposeful or not. In the end she will find out and deal with it accordingly.

"Is that a promise?"

She ignored his light tone.

"Maybe I'll need a tour guide." She was technically Beaumont's daughter, she could squeeze out some information from them. Maybe even get to see what artifacts he found so interesting.

She tried to push down the cozy feeling his bright smile gave her, how it made her feel like she was enjoying the sun on a summer's day.

Alessandra went to head off, but paused. The pinky promise.

"Oh I almost forgot," she held out her hand, "I'm Alessandra, forgive the bad manners."

He shook her hand, as he quietly said her name. So quiet she almost missed it. It sounded so nice with his voice.

"See ya around Steven."

With that she left him, entering her limo (why must everyone in this family be so dramatic) and sighed.

She glanced out the tinted windows, staring at Steven's figure as he slowly disappeared from her sight.

She could only hope and wish that he wasn't involved in this, that he wasn't playing her for a fool. That he was just a kind man. She really didn't want to kill him if it came down to it.

Either way it seemed that she was now playing someone's game.

Steven, please do not be a player on the opposite side.

Alessandra rested her head against the cold window as she dug out her phone, quickly dialing one of the few numbers she actually memorized while she laid back against the leather seat.

"Hey, this is Adrian. Can't come to the phone right now, too busy warming the hearts of others. You know what to do when you hear the beep."

She hung up, and repeated the action. Over and over. Anything to hear his voice.

By the eighth voicemail she felt herself calm down enough to rest her eyes.

To the next shitshow she goes.

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