#History of Don Quixote even though what we're reading is no more real than what he read and believed to be true | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rancidpancakebatter · 2 years

Text

Strawberries and Cream | [S.G.] [M.S.]

Pairings: Steven Grant x Black!Female!Reader, Marc Spector x Black!Female!Reader

Summary: It's valentine's day and your boys surprise you with breakfast in bed

Word Count: 3.4k words

Content Warnings: Swearing, established relationship, fluff, fluff, and more fluff

( Masterlist )

A/N: Wowowowow, this took so long! Apparently, I don't know how to write anything other than angst, so it took me like six stories until I had one with just fluff. I had a lot of fun writing this though. HAPPY BELATED VALENTINE'S DAY! (And Black History Month, that is why we're here)

You woke up on the fourteenth, thrumming with excitement. The sun’s gossamer rays crept into the room, and you basked in the honey glow, letting the warmth soak into your skin. You wrapped yourself tighter in your sheets to fight off the chill and realised you were alone.

Usually, you would wake up feeling a little clammy and pressed into the mattress by a snoring hunk of muscle who had rolled over onto you in the night. But this morning, the furnace you were accustomed to waking up under was nowhere to be seen.

You slowly sit up and look around. There’s a different book on the nightstand. Which tells you they at least came home last night. Steven had just finished reading Don Quixote with you, and it seems your next bedtime story was Flowers for Algernon.

You heard something fall to the floor in the kitchen, then a string of curses. You would have panicked, maybe considered that your apartment had been broken into, but you recognised that voice…and the other.

“Steven cut it out. We only need one chef in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, well you forget I’ve had your food. And it’s not good mate.”

“Whatever, you don't even eat real food.”

“Cows are cute and I don’t want to eat them! But that’s beside the point. Crepes are tricky and you’ve already ruined the batter, just let me try and fix it, yeah?”

“I didn’t ruin anything. That extra egg was just- just good protein.”

“Well, now they’re gonna be too eggy! It’s gonna taste like an omelette!”

“Oh, shut up it’s fine. Everything is fine!”

Peering around the corner, watching them switch back and forth, you almost giggle. They're frantically whisking away, the mixing bowl tucked into their chest, pinned by their arm. Pinched between their fingers was the compact mirror you kept in your purse, but it seemed backseat driving was no longer sufficient.

They're covered in flour, and there's a bit of batter splattered on some of the cabinets, and across their cheekbone. Chaotic Domesticity. It was a good look on them.

They don’t see you when you step out of the hallway, “I’m sure it will be delicious, my loves.”

Your voice startles them slightly, and they almost drop the bowl. You quickly try to discern whose fronting. His brows are high, and his jaw is slightly slack. You step around the island divider and wipe the spot you noticed earlier, hoping it might calm him down.

“Steven, if they taste like omelettes, then I will be delighted to have omelettes. But crepes are great too. And so is that cafe down the street. Whatever works out, as long as you guys are there to eat them with me.”

He melts in your hold a little; his face tilting into your palm. But then he jerks it away very suddenly. You’re confused as he backs away.

“Oy! This was supposed to be a surprise!” He’s upset but not with you, just in general. However, his expression falls into a frown that breaks your heart a little. “We had a whole plan.”

“It’s alright, dear. I won’t look at anything else,” You say as you throw your hands up to cover your eyes. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

He chuckles at your antics, and you feel a little brighter. He explains that they planned to bring you breakfast in bed today. You shuffled back to your room and closed the door that way they would feel like they would get a little more privacy.

You tidied up a bit, picking up some clothes from the floor and remaking the bed. You stepped into your ensuite, brushed your teeth, and washed your face, then you let your braids out of your bonnet and tended to them accordingly. With nothing else to do, you wandered to the bookshelf in search of a title to pass the time.

Alice had just met the dodo and sacrificed her thimble when you heard a knock at the door.

“Are ya decent?” You heard Marc’s gruff voice call out.

You chuckle at the absurdity. You were currently wearing his shirt and his boxers in your shared bed in your shared apartment. He had seen you naked plenty of times.

“Based on previous reviews, I’d say I’m more than decent,” you tease.

You hear his laughter in the hall, and you inflate with a bit of pride. He cracks the door and loudly “whispers” through the gap.

“Steven wanted to wake you up with breakfast. Is there,” He sighs, embarrassed to ask, “Is there any way you could pretend to be asleep?”

You chuckle, knowing Steven can hear everything Marc says right now. “Of course. Anything for my boys.”

He shuts the door again, and you feel like you’ve been transported to the days of your childhood. Those times your parents would come into your room to tell you goodnight and tuck you in. But then you would immediately hide in your impenetrable fortress made of cotton and down and stay up reading for just a little longer.

After a few chapters, you could hear your parents walking towards your door to ensure you were asleep. Your heart would pound in your chest as you fumble to turn off your flashlight and try to hide your book under your pillow so your parents wouldn’t know you had gotten lost in the Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane yet again.

You feel a bit of adrenaline course through you as you scramble around. You're frantically searching for a bookmark and spot a receipt sticking out of a jeans pocket in the laundry. You shove it between your pages and toss the book under your pillow. Then you yank the blanket up, high above you and tuck the edge under your head. You watched the blanket cascade back down in a slow wave, like the rainbow parachute from elementary gym class.

You scrunch your eyes closed, as tight as you can- when you hear a gentle rapping on the door. It slowly creaks open again, and your name is whispered into the air, but you don’t respond. You’re supposed to be asleep. You’re not fallin’ for that.

Your lips are folded into your mouth as you try desperately not to giggle, staying as still as possible. You can hear steps approaching their side of the bed. They set a few things down and let out a long dramatic sigh that you recognise as Steven’s.

“I know you’re not asleep.”

You remain still.

“Really?”

He sounds more amused than irritated, so you continue the bit. You know Marc is definitely getting a kick out of this.

“Your food’s gonna get cold, and Marc and I worked too hard for you to let it go to waste. Now, come off it. Let’s see that beautiful face.”

Steven hears a muffled sound from the covers, but it’s indecipherable mumbling.

“Didn’t quite catch that love.”

You huff and tug the blanket under your chin.

“I said, If you wanna wake me up, you know how. I expect a proper waking up.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you pull the blanket right back over your head. Steven grumbles but doesn’t complain. The sound of fabric ruffling and hitting the floor fills the room, and you can’t fight the grin spreading over your cheeks.

The rush of cold air on your back as the covers were pulled back was well worth knowing you had won. He slides in next to you and tucks himself in. Already your body seems closer to equilibrium, just having him near.

He pulls at your shoulder so you're laying on your back, and his arms immediately worm around your waist as his head rests on your chest. Your hands naturally come up to hold him closer, one draped over his back and the other tangled in his curly hair. You released a content sigh at the feeling of him snuggling into you as your nails pass through his curls.

You almost forgot what brought you into this situation in the first place. You are so at peace, intertwined with your lovers. But then Steven starts trailing kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. They are sweet and tender, feather soft. Each one pressed into your skin with consideration and devotion.

He reaches your cheeks, and one of his hands cradles your jaw. The way his fingers drag across your skin makes you feel like a precious stone, and the way he looks into your eyes makes you feel like a star plucked from the heavens.

He tugs gently at your chin, and your lips part as he ever so slowly leans in. You’re sure he can hear the way your heart is racing. The way it whispers his name every pump.

His nose bumps against yours, and you feel the faint sigh that leaves his lips against yours. You nudge your chin closer, trying to close the gap, but he manages to move just out of reach while staying just as close.

“I’m waking you up, darling,” he reminds you with a small smirk.

You whisper out a small okay that sounds pathetically desperate even to your ears, but you can’t find it in you to care. Because now his lips are brushing against yours. His slightly chapped lips set off every nerve ending in your own. His tongue darted out for just a moment to run against your bottom lip, and you gasped at the contact.

He dipped his nose under yours, and the torment began on the other side. He kissed your cheek, and you were about ready to snap. Had you been standing, you would have stomped your foot in frustration, and Steven would have laughed at your childish response. But he was teasing you relentlessly (which was already out of character for your sweet boy, who is always so eager to please), and it was getting harder to breathe under the covers.

His head is tilted so that it is almost perpendicular to yours. He moves his hand to cradle your cheek, his big hand almost covering the whole expanse of your face. He smiles sweetly at you before finally diving in.

Then it happened. His lips attached around your parted lips and created a seal. He blew a big puff of air into your mouth, and your brain reacted in the same way you think it would if you had been shot. Your eyes bugged out of your head, your arms instinctively failed out, and you made a sputtering, gagging noise. Your cheeks comically inflated for a second before all the foreign breath shot out of your nose. It was like a forced sneeze.

While you were effectively stunned, Steven was full-on chortling, completely cracking up. You’re not entirely sure what “guffawing” means, but you’re sure that’s what this is. You think he might actually damage something, bust his gut or something. It would serve him right, swift justice. You had recovered enough from your initial shock to finally respond.

“STEVEN MICHEAL GRANT! I cannot believe you did that! You not only faked me out but you- you...I don’t even know what you did! But it was horrible!”

The man you are scolding does not seem to care as he lies on his back, clutching his stomach and kicking his feet like a little schoolgirl. You playful smacked his chest as you sat cross-legged beside him in protest. You were upset, not because it happened, but because it happened to you. You didn’t want to admit how funny the joke was. Nor that you wished you had thought of it first.

His rolling laughter is cut short when his body suddenly stiffens, and his neck straightens with his chin pointing to the ceiling. The face that meets your gaze is a little hardened, tougher. His jaw is almost always clenched, and his brows are millimetres from furrowed. Sometimes it blows your mind how these two men can come from the same brain- cohabitate in the same body- when they are also so different. When they look so different.

This is the same face, the same hair, the same muscle and skeletal structure, biologically, the same man, and yet, they are entirely different. Their goals and aspirations are much more copasetic than they were before, but they are still different. They have different tastes in music and food. They have different favourite colours. They have different hobbies and skills. They know different languages. It’s wild.

But also they are similar in a lot of ways too. They are both shit dancers. Absolutely no rhythm to be found. But plenty of enthusiasm. They both like the smell of citrus. Neither of them really believes in multivitamins. You tried to get them to take some vitamin D (they are mostly active at night! They need it!), but even Steven thinks they're silly.

He promised to drink more orange juice. You didn’t have it in you to tell him orange juice packed vitamin C and not D and instead thanked him for making an effort.

They also both loved you. Like a lot. And that was pretty crazy to wrap your mind around too.

Marc’s eyes locked with yours and you watched as his lips danced around his face, chasing off a smile. You gave him a warning look, but it had the opposite effect. He burst into a fit of snickers. He at least had the courtesy to try to hide it behind his hand. He sat up and tried to cover his tittering with the most obviously fake cough you have ever heard.

“Sorry, had a little tickle in my throat.”

You roll your eyes and lightly check his shoulder with yours, “I know you were the mastermind behind that. My sweet little Steenie Baby would never do that to me. You’ve corrupted him. Truly a terrible influence.”

Marc throws his head back in a laugh (possibly an evil one, you couldn’t tell). He kisses your cheek in an effort to win you over, and you hate to say it works. He pulls you into his lap, and you settle into his chest. His arms rest under yours as he links your fingers together.

You tilt your head to the side as Marc takes his turn to pepper you with kisses and remind you how much he loves you. When he’s satisfied that his message got across, he tucks his face into your neck. There he stays, pulling your arms across your waist so he can still hold your hands while he presses your body as closely into his as modern science will allow.

You sway along to a song that isn’t playing. Or maybe it’s not playing through the air but rather through your hearts. Perhaps the shockwaves of each throb are travelling through your bodies, having a private conversation you’re not meant to hear. A secret serenade.

After what seemed like both forever and not nearly long enough, Marc left his hovel with a huff.

“Steven says if we don’t eat right now he’s going to go ‘absolutely mental.’”

You giggle and offer an apology to Steven while Marc leans over and sets the tray in your lap. It's a cookie sheet that they folded a towel around, so it wasn’t as cold or ugly. You smile as you admire its contents. A single red rose beside your plate, which was covered by a large bowl flipped upside-down, behaving as a lid of sorts. You unveiled your dish and gasped at the beauty before you.

Where you expected (maybe edible) plain crepes, you were instead presented with a large stack of hearts dyed to look pink and layered with some sort of white cream and strawberry slices. The top layer was adorned with little tuffs of the cream on the outer rim, with whole strawberries in between.

You looked at Marc in utter disbelief, and he beamed at you, pride pushing his chest forward. “Happy Valentines Day, Sheyfele.”

You grabbed him by the cheeks and crashed your lips into his. The kiss was quick but steady and sure. “Thank you, both of you. I love you so much.”

You’re sure they can see your eyes becoming glassier, but neither comment on it. You extend the favour.

“We love you too…Now please try it. Steven really is losing his mind here.”

It’s delicious (the sweet cream hides the little bit of egginess well), and you share bites with Marc for a while. He goes to readjust; prop up the pillows behind him. Marc had been putting his body through the wringer since he walked out his front door all those years ago. While he is definitely still young, his body isn’t what it used to be. He fluffs his, then reaches to grab yours.

“What’s this, baby?” He holds up a book with an amused smile.

You laugh at the memory, “Oh, I was reading that this morning, but then you asked me to pretend to sleep, so I just hopped under the covers as quickly as I could.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he thumbed through the pages. A small slip of paper fell out, and as Marc examined it closer, he felt his heart in his throat.

“Hey (y/n), where did you find this?”

You glance at the paper and answer between bites.

“It was stickin’ out of your pant pocket.” You point to the pair hanging out of the hamper, “I’m sorry, was it important? I didn’t mean to steal it.”

You worry for a second that you might have upset him. You try to make light of the situation. “Imma strong believer in the ‘anything is a bookmark’ philosophy. You guys know my rule: use the first thing you see.”

Marc nodded in agreement, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Did you uh- did you see anything else? When you found this, I mean.”

You shook your head no. “I don’t meddle in any of the crazy shit you bring home, baby. I am not interested in accidentally gettin’ some pharao curse or getting hunted down by some god.”

Your answer gives him relief, and he laughs alongside you.

He tucks the paper back into your book and kisses your shoulder to grab your attention.

“Would you like Steven to read to you while you eat?” You excitedly nod your head, and moments later, you hear Steenie’s sweet voice.

“Alright, Alice in Wonderland; a classic. Good choice, love.” He kisses your temple, and you feel the same swell of pride in your chest that you would get when your teacher rewarded you with a little gold star. “Now, where were you?”

As you tear into your breakfast (sharing, of course) and Steven reads to you, you get hit with a feeling of gratitude. You feel at home here- with them. You feel safe and cherished. You feel more than joy; something better than happy. You feel contentment, fulfilled.

You had never been one to believe in fate before, but you thanked whoever was out there, whoever had heard your desperate prayers on your lonely nights. You thanked them for delivering…and then some.

Your boys were also feeling that gratitude. They couldn’t believe they had found someone so truly beautiful inside and out. A woman who was damn near fearless, with a kind heart, sharp intellect, and tremendous patience. You were a treasure to behold.

Every morning they wake up expecting to be back in the dusty old flat with only books and a fish for company. But then, when they open their eyes, there you are, and it feels like the most extraordinary gift they’ve ever been given. Your love is something deserving of its own fable or myth. Your story should be told in reverie. A story passed down for centuries, like that of Osiris and Isis.

But they also feel a little scared. They have big plans today. Plans to spoil you and fill your heart with joy. Plans to woo. Plans to convince you that they are worth it- that they’re worth you. Plans to prove to you that you are all they will ever need- all they will ever want. Plans to get on one knee. Plans to beg you to give them this chance at a happy ending. Plans to promise you yours.

Plans to pull a ring box from the back pocket of those pants dangling dangerously out of the hamper. Plans to slip the dainty gold band with a honey-warm, citrine gem- that he got on a mission last week in Bolivia- onto your finger. Plans to admire how it glows against your skin, and how despite its magnificence, it could never outshine yours. Plans that would have been ruined if you could read the Spanish receipt in your book.

Taglist: @barbecuetiddy, @fanfics-instead-of-depression, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @purple-amaranthe, @jedisstark, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

If you want to be tagged in future Moon Knight fics but don't want to do the whole taglist thing again, just comment or reach out and I'll add you to it :))

another A/N because whatever: I will be doing a little /headcannon break down thing for this because I'm kinda throwing some in there with no real explanation, but feel free to send me asks about any confusion. I love answering those!

I'm also gonna start linking those to the original fics too, so you (and new readers) can find them

201 notes · View notes