#moonknightevents

[soft-girl-musings]

Salt & Pepper

Moon Knight System x GN!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

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

wc: 1,078

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

A/N: i might have a problem lol

_____________________

“Put. It. Down.”

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

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

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

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

"What? Nothing, I'm-"

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

“Ha-ha.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course not.”

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

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

_____________________

"Love?"

"Hm?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my days–” 

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

_____________________

The time apart has been agony.

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

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

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

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

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

“What, no hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____________________

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

ty for reading <3

event tags:@moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

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

[lunaxamans]

Sooooo I've been wanting to share this since December!

Ignore the crappy quality of the pictures, the wrinkles in The Boys, and the unevenness -- as you can tell my kitten - Rumi Moon -- kept trying to help me take these pictures.

I wanted to share because one of the potential prizes for @moonknight-events MK Bingo are one of these sweatshirts. A girl decided she did not want to Wait to see if she won bingo -- she wanted to sit in bed wearing one of her husbands' sweatshirts WHILE she wrote said Bingo prompts -- SOPE she bought herself the Spector sweatshirt, got the Lockley sweatshirt for Christmas from her sister, AND got the Grant sweatshirt from her best friend for Christmas.

In case this is still one of the prizes for MK Bingo -- I wanted to share that these are completely customizable, you choose the name you want, and the color of the text and the fabric. They range in size all the way up to Unisex 5X which are what these are. As far as the sizing goes, some sweatshirt colors run bigger than others. I'm a big girl and Marc's which is in the color "Ash" is super nice and roomy. Steven's and Jake's are a little bit more snug even though all three of these are Unisex 5X. They DO have more than just grayscale colors -- originally I was gonna get Steven's in "Sand" but they were out of that color in my size. I saw a beautiful Jake version with black fabric and purplish pink text. If I'm not mistaken you can even use like a hex code color of your choice.

I will say -- as you can see -- Marc's text in black fades pretty quickly. I have worn him the most cause he's the most Comfy so more washes of his, but it was noticeable even after the first wash. So beware that there is some fading that happens.

They're all SUPER soft and cozy and warm. So IF you're thinking this is the prize you want come the end of the MK Event, I can vouch that they are WONDERFUL. And if you're like me and want to go ahead and buy yourself one -- or three -- feel free to hit me up with any questions you might have.

At this point, I don't even care if I win Bingo now, I'm in it purely for fun and for the great prompts I was given.

All my love!

@spacecowboyhotch && @juneknight feel free to reblog this and/or send me questions you might have about the ordering process for the winner in April!

-blows endless kisses-

[winniethewife]

Got one inside the pants, the other on your- (Marc Spector x F!reader)

Prompt: Dirty Talk

A/N; Happy Valentine’s day <3

Warning: Smut under the cut, Fingering, PinV, Unprotected sex, Good Girl, Babygirl, other petnames, choking

Words: 579

Marc already had his fingers deep inside her as he leaned her over the back of the couch, his mouth attached to her neck, her pants pulled down past her hips, his other hand palming his bulge as he fucks her with his fingers. He had just come home and needed her the second he saw her. He growls lowly into her skin as she moans. His thumb making circles on her clit as he moved her fingers in and out of her.

“Fuck baby, wet for me already?” His voice tickled her earlobe as he spoke to her, his voice dripping with desire. “That’s it babygirl, let me take care of you. Let me fuck you with just my fingers, then my cock, Fuck you sound so pretty. Keep moaning like that for me…good girl, that’s my good fucking girl.” She can’t help it, she loves it when he gets all needy for her, when he needs her so bad he can’t even be bothered to make it all the way inside the door before she’s bent over the nearest piece of furniture as he says all those horribly wonderful things. He pulls out his hand, licking her slick from that hand while using the other to pull his cock from his jeans, Not even bothering to pull his pants all the way off in desperation to get to her.

“M-Marc…” She whimpers his name as he looks into her eyes, he takes his fingers from his mouth and puts them against her lips, a single look telling her exactly what to do. She opens her mouth taking his fingers in her mouth and sucking on them. He smiles.

“Good girl.” He growls before thrusting into her, letting himself bottom out inside her, letting her adjust around him. He hisses softly. “Fuck baby, you’re so fucking tight, Just like that. Mgh. Yes… that’s it. Fuck. I’m gonna fuck you so good you aren’t gonna walk right for days. Fuck you so hard that you feel me inside you until morning. Right baby? Yeah, You love this cock, Need this cock. My cock, My girl.” He starts to move, at first a slow but steady pace, all the way out, all the way back in, again and again, but its only a moment before he’s rutting into her like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.  She moans on this fingers, Her nails digging into the couch, she feels the knot of pleasure wound tight in her lower stomach. She was so close, she ever so slightly bites down on his fingers. He groans as he fucks her harder and faster seeking his own release in her tight walls. He moves his hand from her mouth to around her neck, putting just enough pressure on her neck to delay the blood to her brain, and restrict her breathing slightly “Fuck baby you feel so damn good, Fuck I’m gonna fill you up baby. Ngh. Yes, fuck yes. That’s it baby cum with me baby, cum with me…there there there there…Fuck” Marc kept whispering every filthy idea that came up in his mind as he coated her insides with his spend, releasing the pressure on her neck as she clamped down on him, gasping for air as her body shakes with pleasure. He starts kissing her softly, the marks on her neck truning a deeper red as he gently kisses her, muttering into her.

“Such a good fucking girl…My girl…Mine”

Bingo Masterlist

Tag: @moonknight-events @juneknight @spacecowboyhotch @burymesanti @silver-night-m @justafandomgvrl

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Helpless

summary: those drugs your captors injected you with didn’t just knock you out, and now you need Steven’s help.

prompt: SEX POLLEN (w feelings teehee)

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader (brief mentions of marc spector)

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, sex pollen, dubcon, mentions of being kidnapped and drugged, masturbation (fem), unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, kissing, cuddling, pining friends to lovers

wc: 2k

disclaimer: as a mod/organizer of @moonknight-events, my participance in this event is purely for promotion and i will NOT be entered into the drawing for any prize.

SP BINGO 2024 | moonknight masterlist

The sound of Steven’s blood-curdling scream will forever haunt you. Even as you sit beside him now, even as he drives you far far away from your captors— as he drives past the hotel you two had been staying in for one outside of the city.

You shift in your seat, having a difficult time getting comfortable. Something inside you seems off, your skin crawling. You chalk it up to the memory of waking up to unwanted hands on your skin, of the skitter of rats near your feet, of being pushed into the corner of a room full of cobwebs. How could you feel comfortable after thinking you were dead? That you would be murdered, never seeing Steven again.

The thought has you glancing over at him once more, eyes tracing the slope of his nose.

Steven’s gaze meets yours quickly, “You alright, love?”

Better now that you’re sat next to him. Far from okay. But, things will get better. One day this’ll be a distant memory, one you can hardly remember the details of, except that Steven was there.

You give him a half-hearted smile, shrugging, “Little shaken up.”

Steven reaches out to grab your hand, squeezing it gently. Where the action would usually make your heart flutter, all you can do is notice the relief it gives you. Strange.

“I’m so sorry,” He murmurs earnestly, catching your attention. “Marc was right, I shouldn’t have let you come in with me.”

“I appreciate you believing that I can handle myself. And I can, just not against 4 men that are twice my size.”

—

It grows unbearable in the shower.

You start with scalding hot water, wanting to burn and scrub the night’s events off of you. A symbolic erasing, hopefully, your mind will follow suit. It isn’t long after you’re in the shower that your skin grows feverishly hot. That uncomfortable feeling from before turns into some nagging scratch that sits deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” You breathe heavily, reaching out to turn the nob. The water turns cold, icy cold and for a few seconds, you think you’ve found some relief. You run your soapy towel over the skin of your tummy, up and over your breasts when your breath catches.

That. That feels like true relief.

It throws you— being confusingly turned on after a night like tonight. But you’d woken up groggy, maybe they’d drugged you? Maybe your body was having some strange reaction to whatever substance they’d given to knock you out.

You push those thoughts away as you discard the towel in favor of rubbing your hands over your breasts once more, biting back a soft whine. Flesh on flesh, yeah that’s better. You tug and tease your nipples, leaning back against the tile as you practically tremble from the ecstasy that begins to course through your veins.

Your first peak comes rapidly and unexpectedly just from the teasing touches. The gnawing feeling inside you subsides and you take a deep breath, reaching to turn off the water. Before your hand meets the job you're overwhelmed by that need again. It's louder this time, more consuming as it takes up more of your focus than before.

You’re sent into an orgasm-chasing frenzy, spreading your legs and dipping your fingers between your folds to rub at your clit. Each high you pull from yourself ends with you shivering and shaking, your moans echoing off the walls. But it’s not enough and you grow impatient even as you attempt to satisfy yourself again and again.

There’s a knock at the door that makes you jump, and then Steven’s voice floats through the door, “You alright in there, honey?”

Steven.

You need him. Steven could help you, he could make you feel good. You barely have the mind to turn off the water as you step out of the shower, heading straight for the door and throwing it open.

Steven’s mouth drops open, eyes going wide as he takes in the sight of you completely bared to him. He’s dreamed about this one too many times— Marc has too, but this was the last thing he’d expected when he’d come to check on you. You take a step towards him and he realizes that he’s been standing in place, ogling you.

“I—oh—um, I’ll just,” He mumbles, turning away and covering his eyes for good measure. He starts to apologize, though you were the one to present yourself this way he feels guilty. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

You reach for his shoulder, “No, Steven, touch me. Please, touch me, I need you.”

“Oh, gods above. I can’t just…on a night like tonight, where you’ve been made vulnerable,” He reasons, though he doesn’t move out of your hold.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me but Steven, I need you to help me. Please,” You whisper desperately, stepping forward to press your body against his.

Steven whimpers, shuddering when he feels the way you lean in to bury your nose in his curls and inhale his scent. How you’re affecting him so deeply when you’re the one begging is beyond him. He feels helpless— to you and your needs. Helpless to the feelings that have been blooming inside of him for you since the moment he and Marc had laid their eyes on you.

“Help you?” He murmurs, voice lying somewhere between caution and eagerness.

“Touch me. Take me. Make me cum on your cock,” You whisper into his ear, letting your hands run up and down his arms.

Steven gives out a rough laugh, “Honey are you—“

“Sure. I’m so sure, Steven. I’ve wanted this so long just please,” You ramble, not caring that you’re exposing the crush you’ve been nursing.

Steven ignores the way Marc tells him to resist— he can detect the jealousy, the longing in his alter’s urging. He ignores honor and dignity and manners, turning around to scoop you into his arms. His mouth is hungry as it skates across your skin to find one of your nipples. He sucks feverishly, one of his hands dipping to slip fingers between your folds. You keen at his touch, spreading your legs wide for him. It almost makes him dizzy, the way you’re giving him so much power. But you’ve trusted him with taking care of you and he refuses to mess this up.

“God, you’re so slick, darling. Did you touch yourself? It wasn’t enough?” He murmurs, guiding you back into the bathroom and against the wall.

“No. Made myself cum so many times,” You breathe, gripping his curls and pressing his face more firmly against your chest.

Steven gets the message, taking turns swirling his tongue around both your nipples. His hand doesn’t stop, teasing your clit in time with his mouth.

“Gotta take good care of you then, yeah?” He mumbles between flicking his tongue over your stiff bud.

You nod eagerly, chest heaving up into his mouth, “Yeah, with your cock Steven.”

“What are my mouth and fingers not good enough?” He teases, even as he uses his free hand to drop his boxers and sweats. They bunch around his knees, and he doesn’t bother to take them off fully— somehow growing just as needy and desperate as you are in a matter of minutes.

“Good enough and not enough.”

“Sounds a little impossible, doesn’it?” He asks with a soft chuckle.

You glare up at him, growing entirely too impatient. “Never took you as a tease, I always imagined I’d be Marc.”

“You’re certainly right, I just want you to be sure,” He admits as he hoists you up against the wall with ease, wrapping your legs around his hips.

You groan in frustration, pivoting your hips up greedily, “I am sure, and I’m also pretty sure I’ll spontaneously combust if you don’t fuck me right now.”

“Love a headstrong girl,” He whispers into your ear, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit in a move that makes you shiver. You open your mouth the beg him once more but then he’s pushing himself deep inside of you, spreading you open.

“Steven,” You mewl softly, mouthing at the curve of his jaw, eyes rolling back at the taste of his skin.

“I’ve got you, love, right here, gonna make you feel so so good,” He reassures you with gentle rocks of his hips. His head dips and then his mouth is on yours, the hunger inside of him much more apparent as he devours you.

This is scratching the itch, the sweet drag of his cock through your walls starts to alleviate that gnawing inside of you in a way your fingers couldn’t. You kiss him back with matched fervor, hands running up his arms and shoulders to knot in his curly hair, holding him to you so that you can take and take and take. You need every drop of him—every taste, every inch of him, every touch. You need…more.

“Harder.”

Steven tightens his grip on your hips, sinking more firmly onto his heels so he can increase the intensity of his thrusts. It still isn’t enough.

“Deeper,” You whine, tugging his head back by your hold on his curls.

His head falls back into your grasp, his speech soft and breathy, “Darling—“

“Fuck me, Steven. Like you mean it.”

With your spurring, Steven pins you more firmly against the wall with his chest, dropping one of his hands to your cunt so that he can open you up for him even more. His thrusts grow even harder as he reaches deeper inside you, the tip of his cock pressing against the spot inside of you that makes you a little breathless. He can feel the way this change makes you tighten around him, and he groans, pleasure blooming more urgently in his groin. He’s getting close and he can only hope that you are too.

“God, that’s fucking good,” You gasp, resting your head back against the wall as the room begins to spin.

“So good, love, so tight and sweet,” He agrees, kissing his way down the column of your throat. He marvels at how soft and supple your skin is against his lips. “Perfect little pussy, can’t believe you're letting me have it.”

“Make me soak your cock,” You beg, guiding his mouth to yours again, desperate to taste him again. His mouth is so soft, lips full that feel perfect against your own like the two of you were made to fit together like this.

If he wasn’t completely focused on you before, he is now. Every thought in his mind is on making you feel good, on giving you exactly what you need. He rubs your clt with his thumb this time, with firm but gentle pleasure, and you fall apart around him like it's your destiny. You still find yourself unsatisfied, needy for something but before you can say anything Steven cums, gritting his teeth as he continues to fuck you, making sure that his seed is nice and deep. It's only then, when you feel him filling you with warmth that a strange sense of peace washes over you. You’ve never felt more satiated in your life.

“Fucking hell,” He breathes, resting his forehead against yours.

“Thank you. That was— thank you,” You murmur, pressing another kiss to his lips.

Steven kisses you back eagerly, sure that this is it. That it’ll be the last time he gets to kiss and hold you like this, his last taste of your mouth. The last warmth of your smooth skin. He guides himself out of you and then lowers you both to the floor. He tries to let go of you and give you some space, but you get comfortable in his arms, pressing your cheek to his.

“Is this okay?” You ask tentatively, not meeting his gaze.

Steven brings you more firmly against him, dropping a tender kiss onto your forehead, “It's perfect.”

moonknight taglist: @pastanoodles11 , @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @stevengrcnt, @mccn-bcys, @whatthefishh, @silversprings-mp3, @simpforbritgents, @maisondenachtai @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner,  @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz

[mccn-bcys]

Je T'aime

prompt: Love Note pairing: steven grant + gn!reader summary: you've been the best thing to ever happen to steven. He loved doing so much cheesy love things with you, even writing little love notes and letters. warning: light angst, steven being a cutie, steven speaking a little french, fluff word count: 1.2 K author's note: this is my second work for the Moon Knight Bingo hosted by @moonknight-events. the bingo board will be at the bottom of my fics for it. This one is a little short, but it's sweet and I just love steven grant so I hope you all enjoy this! As always, if you like it, please, please, please reblog to share it with your friends! also i'm starting my tag list over so if you'd like to be tagged in future fics for specific characters or for this event or for all fics, tell me in my asks and I'll add you to the list!

Steven Grant has always been a romantic. It’s in his DNA, he’s convinced. He loves the idea of love, the idea of unashamedly showing and professing the love that you feel to the person you feel it for. He’s proud to admit that he has seen just about every rom-com out there. He never misses a new Hallmark movie – yes, he knows the acting isn’t good, and that they’re cheap and silly, but they’re reliable. Love always prevails in them.

Sure, there’s probably a reason that Steven has a romantic heart. If he had to guess, he’d probably say it comes from his relationship with his mother. I mean, Steven was born from Marc’s lack of love from his mother; Steven was there to see all the good times with Wendy, he got to experience all the love from his mother, while Marc took all the times she didn’t love. Perhaps Steven liked the idea of someone loving them unconditionally. Perhaps it was the very concept that someone could love them both, that one of them wouldn’t have to take the bad days, or the days that lacked love, because there wouldn’t be days that lacked love.

Perhaps that’s what made Steven fall in love with you so quickly. Because from the start, he knew you would love all of them, not just one part of them. Even if there were bad days, or hard days, you were still here, showing that you still loved them. It was mind-altering, especially for Marc. But for Steven, it meant the world.

Especially, because now he had someone to express all his love to, someone who appreciated all the ways Steven liked to show his love, no matter how cheesy or silly they were. You adored everything he did.

Steven knew you kept all his gifts. They were in a box in your closet. It was full of date receipts, jewelry, drawings, poems, and all other things he’d gifted you throughout your relationship. One thing that he could never find was all the love notes he left for you. You always say you love them, but he never sees them anywhere. And even though he knows you would never do such a thing, the bad part of his brain wonders if you throw them away, or if you tuck them away and forget about them.

That is until one day. You were in the shower while he was combing through your bookshelf, seeing if you had any new books for him to read. And there’s a book he doesn’t recognize. Have you always had this book? It looks almost like a binder, like a notebook that’s meant to pass as regular book. Should he open it? He supposes it couldn’t hurt. If you didn’t want anyone to read it, you wouldn’t leave it out. And even if he isn’t supposed to read it, he’ll take the blame for nosing around.

Pulling it from the shelf, he flips it open, seeing that there’s pages but they each have sheet protectors on them. Pulling out his glasses, he reads the first page, and he realizes what this is. Thumbing through the rest of the pages, he looks and sees the rest of the protected pages in the book.

His love notes.

You had all of them, sitting on your bookshelf, protected in this little book. Emotion wells in his eyes as he reads them over, feeling relief flood through him as he now knows you did like them, you kept all of them, and you kept them on your bookshelf for anyone and everyone to find it and read it.

“Took you long enough to find it,” your voice sounds from behind him, making him slam the book shut and whirl around, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

“What?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t found that before now. Figured it would be the first thing you read when you started reading my books,” you chuckle, walking over to him, your wet hair framing your face as you’re wrapped in a towel. You must’ve used him soaps, he can smell it.

“What do you mean?”

“I left that book out for a while for you to find. On the table, the nightstand, almost everywhere. But you never mentioned it, so I figured you never looked at it. It figures that you’d find it as soon as I put it on the bookshelf.”

Steven didn’t really have any words, wasn’t sure what to say. He just looked down at the book, reading over the words that he had written to you.

“You kept them,” he says softly. It’s not really a question since he can clearly see that you did. But you answered anyways.

“Of course, I did.”

“Why?” he finds himself asking. Obviously, it was because you loved him. But he can’t keep himself from asking, as if the notion baffles him.

On some level it does baffle him. The letters themselves are silly, elementary. But still you kept them, even though anyone else would not have wanted to keep such childish things.

“Because you wrote them. You took the time to write down the way you felt. Because they’re from you,” you said like it was simple. Because, to you, it was simple. You loved Steven, so you wanted to keep every little thing he gave you.

He looked at you softly for a moment, just looking at you. What did he do to deserve someone like you?

“What?” you ask softly.

“Nothing, love, just… thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

“Funny, I think that same thing every time I read those letters,” you chuckle, slipping your arms around his waist.

“Every time? What do you mean?”

“I read them a lot. Mostly at night before I go to sleep,” you admit.

“Really? Why?”

You looked at him with a curious glance, but you looked so patient and amused. “Because they’re from you. They make me feel loved and comforted. They make me think of you.”

Steven’s chest tightens with emotion. Slowly, he slips his glasses off his nose and puts them back in his shirt pocket, placing the book back on the shelf as he slips his arms around your towel covered body, and he just looks at you.

“Je t'aime plus que tout,” he whispers softly as he brushes a wet strand of hair from your face to behind your ear. His heart squeezes when he sees the way you smile brightly at him. He knows that you love when he speaks French, you’ve always found it romantic and beautiful.

“I love you too, Steven,” you murmur back, leaning in to kiss him softly, which he gladly returns. When you pull back you grin and give his ass a playful squeeze. “Now go take your shower so we can read together before we go to sleep.”

“You got it, love,” he smiles wide, giggling softly as he pulls away to walk to the bathroom.

It’s still steamy in the bathroom from your hot shower, the mirror clouded over with steam. Except for the spot wiped in the center of the mirror, where Steven’s face fits perfectly in, and the words that had been written in your handwriting and Steven realizes you had left him your own love note:

Steven, You Are So Beautiful, Inside And Out. Je T’aime.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list: @moonknight-events @toracainz @marc-spectorr @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight @luvpedropascal @missdictatorme

[asimplearchivist]

𝓑𝓻𝓾𝓲𝓼𝓮

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ marc doesn't like it when you get hurt, even by accident. pairing(s) ☽ marc spector/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 1.4k a/n ☽ ⤏ my third entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. this takes place post-chapter iii. ⤏ reminding myself that it's okay to keep things short and sweet sometimes. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY ☽

You didn’t notice it until Marc’s thumb compressed the unexpectedly tender flesh just above the joint of your elbow, drawing a sharp yelp from your throat more from surprise than from pain. “Where did you pick that up?”

It was commonplace for you to shower with the boys after getting home from work for the evening, a habit started during one of Steven’s clingier stints months prior when you’d first begun to stay over at their apartment.

You shared that trait, occasionally wanting as much physical closeness with your significant other(s) as reasonably possible to disperse the nasty thoughts or melancholic feelings that would crop up in the back of your mind despite your best efforts. It helped significantly—to that you could attest. On the plus side, washing each other with gentle touches, indulging yourselves in amorous affections (those of which oftentimes got carried away to both of your benefit), and just having someone you fully trusted in such close proximity at your most vulnerable satisfied that once nagging loneliness that used to daily plague your greater consciousness into something far more manageable and docile. You had found your person (...people?), and you could rest assured that they would be there for you always—even at the times when you could scarcely summon the strength to raise your hands to wash your hair.

Marc had started to replicate that tendency soon after Steven’s initial timid request, claiming that conserving water saved money spent on utilities, but you knew better than that—you knew him better than that. You knew that he struggled to verbalize his needs and found it easier to disguise his self-determined ‘weaknesses’ under sensuality laced with practicality. He would often wait until you got ready to shower to join you. You figured that he suspected you knew his ‘accidental’ brushes and bumps and noticeably slow reach-arounds weren’t exactly accidental, but you decided not to comment upon it. You certainly didn’t want to dissuade one of the sole outlets of casual physicality he allowed himself outside of the bedroom.

So when you’d trudged into the apartment with takeout in hand that night, sleeves soaked in coffee because you’d bumped into one of the newbies while going to dump out the pot in the sink, Marc had immediately stood up from the couch to take the sacks. He’d tucked them into the microwave so he could reheat them later before escorting you straight to the bathroom. He’d lavished you the entire time, sensing without words that you were exhausted and didn’t have much energy to move.

“Oh,” you said, looking down as he released your arm and eyeing the tender place he’d spotted despite the poor lighting in the bathroom. You pressed it lightly with your fingertips, raising a brow—you hadn’t even noticed the faintest discoloration in your own skin, as it was barely visible. Your wondering at how he even saw it didn’t last long when you realized that he’d likely been decorated with hemorrhaging most of the time since he’d joined the military and could identify them easily. “I didn’t even…huh. I must’ve hit the countertop harder than I thought.”

Marc frowned, his furrowed brow lowered over his dark eyes as he scrutinized your expression. “You fell?”

“No,” you chuckled, shaking your head as you slipped under the shower’s stream to rinse off the suds he’d lathered over your back. “New guy wasn’t watching where he was going coming out of the kitchen and I bumped into him. I was trying not to spill the coffee and stumbled. Bang, funny bone tickled, and I still got it all over myself. It hurt like a bitch, but I didn’t think I hit it that hard.”

Marc hummed, eyes dropping to your elbow as he reached for your shampoo. “Tilt your head back, baby.”

It wasn’t until later, after you’d both gotten dressed and eaten and settled into bed, that he brought it back up. “...He didn’t push you, did he?”

You cracked your eyes open despite the apartment being just short of pitch black. You rolled over to face him, twisting in his arms, and eased back enough to squint at him in the dark. The faintest illumination of street lights peeking through the windows highlighted the edges of his face, but his expression was cloaked in shadow. His tone, however—low and stern as though afraid to break the hushed, relative silence drenching the apartment—was indication enough of his dour mood.

“No,” you said carefully. “It was an accident. He’s super tall and lanky so he doesn’t always remember to check if someone’s in front of him.”

Marc’s hand spread over the small of your back, fingertips slipping beneath the hem of the t-shirt you wore, its hem having ridden up from your movements. “If he does it again, or if he tries anything…”

“He’s just an oblivious, sleep-deprived college kid, honey. He’s not out to get me.”

He grunted, wedging his other arm beneath you to leverage you against his torso. He tucked his chin over the crown of your head, his heavy sigh tickling the nape of your neck. “Can never be too careful. I never know if…you know. Someone’s hunting for old vendettas.”

You slipped your hand over his side so you could stroking soothing circles between his shoulder blades. “I’ll let you know if he gives me any trouble. I promise.” You pressed a kiss to the skin available to you while constricted within his borderline smothering embrace, which just so happened to be his clavicle. “I appreciate the concern, I really do, but you can’t worry yourself to death about me all the time. I can handle myself well enough—I think you know that better than most.”

“...I do,” he conceded reluctantly. “But it’s my job to worry.”

“And it’s also your job to trust my judgment. Trapping yourself in an endless loop of worst case scenarios doesn’t give you any more control of our lives than you already have, Marc.”

“Are you really quoting our therapist right now?”

“If that’s what it takes to get through that thick ol’ noggin of yours, then yeah.” You tapped his temple gently with the knuckle of your free hand. “All three of you make me feel the safest I ever have in my life. I know I can depend on each of you for anything I could ever ask. I’ll never forget that you’ve got my back.” You tilted your head to kiss his neck, feeling his pulse jump against your lips. “And, just for the record, you have me, too.”

“We know.” He squeezed you closer, almost crushing the air from your lungs. “I just never want to see you hurt. Again.”

You would never forget the look on his face when he fronted following the fallout of Jake cleaning up the rest of Ammit’s cult. The newly-introduced alter had patched you up already before relinquishing the body to his host, but you may as well have been bedridden in the ICU with how fervently he checked every last inch of you to make sure you were still alive. You hadn’t addressed the tears welling in his distressed eyes, and you’d only managed to calm him down by asking him to hold you so you could sleep some more. The adrenaline rush had fatigued you for a solid week afterwards and he and Steven both had hovered like mother hens.

He’d cradled you so carefully, like porcelain, mirroring the position you were in now.

“We’re careful about things,” you reminded him, “and you’ve got the god of the moon on speed dial. You can relax, Marc. I’m not going anywhere.”

He did, just so. You felt some of the tension drain from his frame the longer you touched him. At some point, he cupped a hand around the back of your head and began to thumb little circles behind your ear. The motion, combined with his rhythmic breathing, lulled you into drowsiness more effectively than melatonin ever could.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you mumbled, fighting the cusp of sleep long enough to voice your thought, “you can give me some fun bruises.”

“Tomorrow, maybe,” Marc chuckled, a raspy rumble low in his chest. “Go to sleep, baby.”

You were never one to argue with a good idea like that.

[minigirl87]

Ice is the only hard thing

Steven Grant x Reader

Summary:-

You and Steven go ice skating and accidentally stimulate Steven, but let's be honest, it wouldn't take much to turn that sweetheart on. This is part of @moonknight-events Bingo. There is no description of the reader and no use of y/n.

I used Google translate for the French words

Quelle surprise - I'm surprised

Oui mon amor- yes my love

Salope- bitch.

Please enjoy and feel free to comment and reblog ❤️

Warnings:-

⚠️ 🔞 🤬 over 18s only

Male receiving oral, cum eating.

Word Count:- 1290

London in winter time is a mixture of miserable bitter weather and fun activities. You're currently standing at the bottom step of the National Art Gallery wait for Steven, who, as per usual, is running late. You let out a chuckle as Steven stumbles out from behind a Victorian Greco column for the Galleries stunning entrance, the lights dancing of the creamy stonework, making the building stand out against the velvety inky sky of evening.

Your warm breath making patterns in the cold air as you call his name Steven stops in front of you, looking exasperated and dishevelled. You smile up at him, taking in his rosy cheek, goofy smile, and sparkling dark eyes, a stray chocolate curl popping out of his Egyptian hieroglyphic patterned woolly hat.

“Hiya love” he says excitedly, kissing you and rubbing his nose against yours as he speaks. “You ready, my love?”

“Yep sweetheart. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” You reply as you zip his navy jacket up and sort his scarf. “That’s better. Can’t have you freezing on me, sweetheart.” You giggle as Stevens face flushed “sorry love. Didn’t have time inside to get sorted because of Donna.”

"Quelle surprise," you mutter. Steven smiles happily “Oui mon amour” you both laugh “enough of Madame salope, she’s not spoiling our night sweetheart” Taking his hand you walk of towards Tottenham Court Road underground looking forward to your evening together.

Oyster cards at the ready you both head through the barriers to catch the tube to go to Waterloo train station. The Bakerloo line was busy commuters heading home, exasperated Christmas shoppers, and loved up couples like you and Steven heading to Hampton Court Palace. As if sensing your uncomfortableness of the busy carriage, Steven instinctively wraps his arm around you and kisses your nose, his scarf tickling your chin as you smile and snuggle against him.

At Waterloo Station, after checking your connection, the Christmassy smells moreishly filling both you and Stevens nostrils. “Come on love let’s get 2 hot chocolates for the train. You roll on the balls of your feet as you wait in line at Starbucks. Steven speaks calmly and with appreciation in his voice to the barista. As you both carry a almond milk praline hot chocolate away from the counter you hear the staff say how nice it was to deal with Steven and how they wished every customer could be like him Stevens cheeks flushing pinky red at the compliment.

“See you really are a sweet boy, sweetheart* taking his arm heading for the train to Hampton Court Palace. “I’m just me” he mumbles. Sitting on the train together, listening to Steven, listening to historical Christmas facts, and drinking the hot chocolate.

“you’re a walking encyclopaedia sweetheart. You really should go on who wants to be a millionaire” Steven, not listening, continues to chat and explain about Chanukah and his, Marc’s and Jakes beliefs. You listen carefully to him and get him to explain when you weren’t too sure. The 36 minutes of the journey pass quickly. You can listen to Steven talk for hours, loving his beautiful voice.

Once out of Hampton Court Station, the bitter air stings your face as you draw your scarf tightly around your neck. Standing at the start of the walk way up, you both look at the Palace light up and colourfully decorated as the noise of the ice skaters is hear hum of laughing, shouting and fun fill the air. You look up at Steven lovingly and squeeze his hand “Thank you for this sweetheart” The coloured lights twinkle and fade against his face and eyes, and you share a sweet and tender kiss. “anything for you love, now let’s get our skates on literally” he chuckles as you roll your eyes.

Having collected 2 pairs of ice skates you help each other to put them on as Christmas music adds to atmosphere listening happily and not paying attention as you lace up Stevens skate you unknowingly pulled him forward slightly and as you moved to stand up your nose brushes against his clothed cock and Stevens eyes flutter and a soft whimper escapes his velvety plush lips. “You ok, sweetheart?” his eyes snap open, and a look of embarrassment covers his handsome features “no love, all hunky dory” as they kiss his lips, the wetness glistening in the Christmassy lights.

You raise an eyebrow but shake it off, giggling as you walk like bambi onto the rink, grabbing onto the side as you almost fall flat. Steven follows suit, but he’s as graceful as a Swan. Soon you’re both moving in sync around the ice having fun. Hand in hand, you circle around, and, trying to be smart, you decide to try spinning, and as quick as you try, you fall on your back side. As ever your knight in shining armour Steven rushes to pick you up and the angle he’s at means your cheek brushes against his cock, his hard cock.

“Have you been hard this whole time sweetheart” licking your lips. Steven swallows hard “yeah pretty much love”

Standing up and looking at him with a soft smirk. “come with me, my love.” Skating to the edge of the rink and leaving to change your skates to your boots hurriedly with Steven and handing them back to the woman at the counter. You grab and pull Steven away and walk down a gravel path, and push him into some trees and shrubbery. The darkness engulfing you both.

Steven stammers “what you doing, love?” as you unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans pulling his hard weeping cock out his boxers giving his shaft a few strokes with left pointer and middle on top and thumb under the shaft giving just the right amount of pressure for Stevens eyes to clamp shut and his body to shiver.

“All it took was for me to accidentally rub my nose against your clothed cock and you get stimulated sweetheart?” Smirking up at him as he nods biting his lip. “have you been aching to cum my love?” Steven jerks his cock further into your fist. A soft whimper leaves his lips “please love, don’t torture me more than I already am. Please”

You kiss the head, swirling your tongue around him, tasting him, letting out a satisfied moan around him. As you start bobbing your head you feel his hand grab your hair as he starts moving you faster against him his thrusts matching as the fucks your mouth, grunting as he stops moving holding you in place as he cums covering your throat with his warm creamy seed your nostrils filled with his musky scent it still amazes you how each of them taste and smell different. You run your hand down his softening cock squeezing the last drops in your mouth before swallowing as you then tuck him back in and fastening him up.

Steven breathes heavily against the tree he’s leaning on as you stand up. He smiles and leans into you licking a dribble of his cum from the side of your mouth swallowing as he kisses you.

“That was amazing love” his cheeks all rosy as you adjust yourself, taking his hand and walking back onto the gravel path to walk to the exit and start your journey home.

“anything for you, my love, I think I should make this a yearly tradition from now?” You squeezing his hand “definitely my love. We will.” As you get to Hampton Court Station, Steven looks like he’s concentrating, which means he’s talking to Marc and Jake. “Um love! Marc and Jake want to know when it’s there turn?.”

@melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @my-secret-shame @missscarlettangel @missdictatorme @jake-g-lockley @steven-grants-world @romanarose @campingwiththecharmings @writingforcurrentobsessions2 @welcometostayingawake @novanitee @micheleamidalajedi @annautumnsoul @guruan-is-not-here @ivystoryweaver @whirlybirbs @whatthefishh @lonely-dark-moon @missscarlettangel @missdictatorme @lonelyisamyw-0love @madlittlecriminal @midgardian-witch @saturn-rings-writes @madlittlecriminal @gigachadcowboy @yeetus-thyboomer @draggolblackthorn @he-burnt-my-shake @musicsavedme98 @mess-of-fandom @hon3yboy @ominoose @jayke0 @theaussiedragon @reallyrallyauthor @moonknight-events

Banners and deviders by @saradika thank you❤️

[moonknight-events]

Congratulations to the randomly selected winner of this bingo event: @reallyrallyauthor!

Each author received an entry for each bingo completed, and a winner was selected via random number generator. Thank you so much to everyone who participated! We had an excellent turnout! 🤍

A&C

[flightlessangelwings]

FlightlessAngelWings Moon Knight Bingo Masterlist

Thank you @moonknight-events for organizing this and for giving me such a good bingo sheet!!! Image will be updated and fics will be added as I post them.

As with everything else on my blog, this is 18+ only so minors please do not interact even if some of these don’t have smut!

To stay up to date when when I post, please follow my update blog and turn on post notifs @flightlessangelwings-updates

~

B

Meet cute

Flashbacks

Home

Tattoos

Lap dance

I

🔵 Praise- Late nights, Steven Grant

“Since when do you care?”

Road head

“Don’t you dare”

“Why did you save me?”

N

“Don’t give up on me”

Cockwarming

Free space

Power outage

Mirror sex

G

Accidental stimulation

Insecure

Rainy day

Caught

Road trip

O

“To love is to be changed”

Beg

Dirty talk

“Who hurt you”

Floor sex

[soft-girl-musings]

Stranger Danger

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

MK Spring Bingo entry #5

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

wc: 1,138

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

_____________________

“Oops, careful!”

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

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

“Oh my gosh, hi!”

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

He’s never seen you before.

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

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

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

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

being followed, please pretend you're my boyfriend

Steven doesn’t know you.

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

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

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

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

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

do you see a man in a black jacket?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

_____________________

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

as always, ty for reading <3

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

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

[lunaxamans]

So I'm waaayyyy behind on this -- life's been Lifing -- but I wanted to post my Bingo Card{s} for the @moonknight-events. I thought I couldn't do much with the first card I was given so I asked for a second card -- which felt much more doable. That being said -- now that I'm doing this purely for the fun of it / prompt ideas -- I kinda wanna challenge myself to try to do BOTH. The first card shown is the one I felt more capable of completing and the second card beneath was the one I felt less able to work with. But I'm posting BOTH since I wanna try to do as many prompts as possible. Either way -- regardless of whether I finish within the deadline of April 30th, I plan to keep using them even after the event ends. Especially since I'm just getting started and I know the goal was to re-up the amount of MK fics in the community. So that is what I intend to do!

{ Main Working Card }

{ Supplemental Secondary Card }

[winniethewife]

Hush-hush, stand there and don't you say a word (Steven Grant x F!reader)

Prompt: sex pollen

Warning: Dub-con, Smut under the cut, love marks, PinV sex, rough sex, drugged, overstimulation, dumbification, degregation

Minors DNI

Words: 507

Steven stumbles into the door of her flat, his eyes glazed over as he searches for her, his mind fuzzy from the weird substance he encountered while out the night before as Mr. Knight. The Powdery substance his foe had thrown in his face made him feel, odd, and all he could think about is her. He needed her…now His half lidded gaze finally finds her sitting on the end of her bed half-dressed getting ready for her day. She looks up to see him, his suit obviously roughed up, his hair a mess.

“Darling what happened to you?” She stands up quickly and closes the distance, her eyes full of concern and her hands gently on his shoulders. He scent is intoxicating he feels his arousal heighten. He grabs her tight around the waist and shoves her down on the bed.

“S’ Sorry Love, C-ant…gotta…Need you. Now.” He says his speech slurred as his hands roamed her body. She was surprised. Steven was hardly ever like this, never so demanding.

“Steven, what has gotten-Oh gods” She groans as his mouth attacks her neck, sucking and dragging his teeth along her sensitive skin. His body pressed against her, pinning her down as he grinds his hips against hers, seeking that glorious friction. “F-fuck Steven…” She groans as he takes and takes. His hands roaming her body tearing her clothes off her body, nothing stopping him. He yanks down his pants letting his rigid cock spring from its confines, he’s so focused, so in need he just keeps her hands pinned above her head as he rubs his length against her thigh.

“That’s it, lemme, lemme use you. I need this, Need you. So good f’me. So fuckin’ good.” He whimpers and whines as he presses against her, Steven thrusts against her again and again before finally managing a way in. The sting of him stretching her open causes her to clench her fists and a soft gasp to escape her lips.

“Steven, please.” She pleads with him, hoping he would be gentler. But her soft cry goes unheard as he picks up the pace, slotting his lips over her in an attempt to keep her quiet, his hips moving faster, chasing his release like its life or death. He licks into her mouth and growls softly, he needs this, needs it bad, and he needs it now.  His movements grow sloppy as he moves faster getting closer and closer to his release. He pulls his lips away and an animalistic sound comes ripping from his throat as he looks into her eyes, his eyes dark and filled with lust as he takes what he needs, painting her insides again and again. This goes on and on, she isn’t at all sure what caused sweet Steven to loose himself but as she reaches her own climax again and again her mind goes blank, so overstimulated she can’t even think. And it feels…oh so good.

“Shhh…atta girl..so good, such a good little slut. My little… fuck toy…that right…you’re…you’re mine”

Bingo Masterlist

Tag: @moonknight-events @juneknight @spacecowboyhotch

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Blossoms & Whiskers

prompt: painting

pairing: jake lockley x f!reader

contents: anxiety, a couple kisses, avoidant love confessions

wc: 1.1k

an: the first of hopefully many promotional fics for the @moonknight-events’ bingo @juneknight & i have going on right now. DISCLAIMER: as a event runner i will not be entered in the drawing for prizes. this is promotional only.

SP BINGO 2024 | moonknight masterlist

As soon as you enter the flat you know who’s fronting. There’s the faint smell of paint wafting through the space and the covered canvas that Jake keeps easeled in the living room is gone. The window to the fire escape is open and there’s a mason jar full of murky water in your view. His hand appears, dipping and swirling the brush.

“Jake?” You yell as you kick off your shoes and hang up your light jacket.

“Out here. I’ll be in in 20,” He calls back distractedly through the window, hand disappearing.

You’d never seen Jake paint, it was something he’d picked up in the last few months and something preferred to do on his own, like many other things in his life. But, you always like to imagine the expression on his face. Brown eyes under a furrowed brow, intense and scrutinizing as always. His nose scrunched in concentration, the tip of tongue sticking out the corner of his full mouth like it does when the two of you play Jenga. The lines he paints are as sharp and precise as the lines of his body.

You peg him for a structured modernist, dependent on clear contrast and definite shapes. One day you hope to no longer guess, you hope that he’ll share even the smallest bit of his art with you.

You decide to take a quick shower and put on a kettle for some tea. By the time he’s slinking through the window carefully with the canvas, you’re curled up on the couch with a book. His eyes linger on you, enjoying how incredibly cozy you look.

“Took longer than expected,” He explains as he sets the painting back on the easel, turning it away from you.

You don't look up when you respond, “It's alright, honey. Cover it up and come snuggle.”

Jake is quiet for a handful of moments, unmoving. Finally he says, “It's finished.”

Your eyes freeze on the page, but you don’t move. Your interest in piqued. “Oh?”

“It’s for you. I’d like you to see it.”

“Are you sure?” You ask gently.

“I’m sure. Always sure about you,” He adds his voice is still quiet, but firm.

You grin, throwing your book on the floor as you stand, uncaring about what page you were on. Jake was sharing this with you. For a moment you wonder if he’s shared this with Marc or Steven at all– they’d mentioned giving his privacy. But if he was sharing this with you, certainly he’d shared it with them.

“Eyes closed,” He instructs, and you quickly follow suit. “Good girl.”

With your eyes covered, you can hear your own breath more clearly, hear the quiet drag of the easel against the wood floor. Hear his quiet, even steps.

His hands come to rest on your waist, and you feel his mouth brush the shell of your ear as he whispers. “Open for me.”

You open your eyes to rows upon rows of your favorite flower. The sun hangs low in the sky, just beginning to dip below the horizon, a few clouds dotting around. It’s much brighter than you ever imagined. Jake is a conglomerate of neutrals and darks, leather and basics. To see so much color, such an obvious lightness from his own hands stuns you. As you take more in, you see a black cat frolicking through the stems, batting at one of the flowers. Its eyes shine mischievously.

It’s your turn to fall quiet, your eyes whisking over the canvas time and time again, drinking in all you can.

“Don’t comment too quickly,” He says dryly, his hands squeezing your hips.

“Oh, Jake, its beautiful,” You breathe softly, taking a small step forward to examine it in further detail, wanting to see each and every stroke.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, that comfortable warmth that you bring to his chest multiplying tenfold. “You think so?” He asks, trying to sound noncommittal.

“I know so. Is this cat supposed to be ours?” You point to it, grinning up at him. He’d mentioned his want for cat a few times, but it wouldn’t be a possibility until the lease was up so that you all could move to a pet friendly place.

Jake hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to you before they return to the canvas. Jake was the last of the boys to come around. Your relationship is the newest, and though it is no less sweet, no less passionate sometimes he struggles to be open with you. You’re patient, knowing that every piece of the man standing beside you is worth waiting for.

“It's supposed to be me,” He admits quietly.

“You?”

“The cat is me, and everything else…is you.”

“Me?”

He grows quiet again, trying to figure out what to say. He so desperately wants you to understand. You gaze up at him, watching as he mulls things over, gathering up the words to tell you what this all means to him. What you mean to him.

“Its me, basking in everything that is you. You love the sunset, you love pointing out shapes in the clouds. You love these flowers. There’s more there, more intention that I could explain. But I hope that one day, the cat, that you’ll—“ He stops, realizing that he’d got too carried away. He was about to show all his cards.

You raise a hand to cup his cheek tenderly, “I do. I do already, Jake. It’s easy.”

His gaze grows more intense as he studies you, searching for any dishonesty. There’s not a drop in your eyes. “Me too.”

Jake didn’t know it could be this easy. Sure neither of you have said the words outright, but he can feel it in the way you look at him right now. You lean in, closing the gap between you to press a soft kiss to his mouth before, one he gets lost in. And when you pull away, you simply turn back to the painting. Your hands reach out, fingers wiggling and his hand darts out, grasping yours.

“It’s still wet,” He reminds you, squeezing your hand gently before he lets it go.

“Right, sorry,” You murmur sheepishly.

All of this has you feeling a little shy— held but with hands that are afraid you’ll break. You could ask him to say it, you could say it yourself but you know that things are the slowest with him. Sometimes you have to treat him like the cat he’s painted. He’ll spook easily, retreating into solitude.

You tuck the idea of asking for more in your back pocket. Another time. Instead you ask, “So…where are we hanging it?”

Jake relaxes. He knows your thinking face, could see you weighing the pros and cons. It feels good to know how you feel about him and even better to know how well you know him.

He drops a kiss on your forehead before moving towards the fireplace. “I was thinkin’ here.”

“I’ll go get those sticky strip thingies,” You say, marching towards the closer that holds everything from spare linens, holiday decorations and yes— sticky strip thingies.

“Command strips,” Jake corrects you, snorting softly under his breath.

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

[mccn-bcys]

The Old Oak

pairing: jake lockley x gn!reader prompt: tree house summary: the old tree house in your backyard was the perfect place to make a friend, but will it be the perfect place to get him back? warning: jake comes with his own warning, but soft jake, light angst, hints at DID, hints at abuse, happy ending because I'm a sucker and jakey deserves it, brief mention of family member death. word count: 2.4 K author's note: this is my first entry for the MK Spring Bingo and I'm actually really happy with how it's turned out. soft jake is precious to me and i feel like everyone should get to experience it. anyways, this fic is actually super sweet so i hope you all enjoy!

You didn't want to be here. This place was full of people you didn't want to see or talk to, people you haven't seen in years, and people you see every year. Some people have nothing interesting going on in their lives so they tell the same stories to you every year.

The only reason you come is to please your mother. Ever since the death of your grandmother, who used to head the family function, your mother has taken over it, and every year she asks you to attend. Somehow it helps her nerves.

So you do your rounds, talking to various family members, updating them on the happenings in your life, hearing their updates on theirs, and talking about anything and nothing at all.

However, there's something about this reunion that's different. Your mother has been a little giddy, nagging you about how you look, asking you from time to time if everyone is here. It's odd, she's normally not so worried about such things. You wonder what could've gotten into her.

And then you see it. Or rather, him.

Jake Lockley.

"Mom, why is he here, he's not family," you whisper to your mother, pulling her aside.

"He's in town. I ran into him at the supermarket yesterday and told him to swing by. It's not like he's a stranger. He used to come to every reunion with you."

"Yeah, when we were kids. Mom, I haven't talked to him since high school," you try reasoning with her, wondering how she wasn't seeing what the issue was.

"I never understood that, anyways. Why did you two drift apart?"

Maybe because you had a raging crush on him in high school that couldn't face him afterwards? Or because he moved off without a warning or telling you where he was going or why?

"Because people drift apart sometimes," you answer quickly, glancing over at him where he seems to catch up with some old family members of yours.

This fucking guy. You can't believe him. The guy disappears for years after graduation and then shows up to your family reunion with no warning, acting like no time has passed.

"Well, maybe he wants to patch things up," she shrugs, laying out some more plates.

"Maybe he felt like he couldn't tell you no," you counter.

"Maybe you should go talk to him and find out."

"I can't just go over to him and-"

You're cut off by the sound of your own name. It's soft but you know the voice that said it. You can picture the way his mouth moves as it falls right off his tongue. Fuck.

You turn around and sure enough, there he is. Jake Lockley. The man that's been giving you heart palpitations since the ninth grade. How did he get prettier?

"Jake. Hi," is all you can manage to say.

"Hi," he smiles. "It's been a while."

"It has." Have you completely forgotten how to talk to him?

"Wanna take a walk with me?" he asks. And before you can stop yourself, you find yourself walking down the sidewalk with him.

It's quiet as the two of you walk down the street, neither of you really knowing what to say or where to start. His hands are stuffed in his pockets as he walks next to you, looking down at the concrete. 

“So you're in town?” you ask quietly, looking over at him, taking the leap and trying to talk first.

“Uh, yeah, I am,” is all he responds with.

“May I ask why?” you prod.

“Yeah. Um… I wanted to see if you were still here,” he answers, his cheeks turning a little red as he kicks a rock.

You weren't expecting that answer. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I realized I never properly said goodbye and I wanted to apologize. I just… We thought it'd be easier,” Jake admits, making you stop in your tracks. When he notices you're not walking next to him anymore, he stops and turns and looks at you.

“How could it have been easier, Jake? I was worried,” you ask incredulously, looking at him like he'd lost his mind. “You didn't even tell me you were planning on leaving.”

He looks around you. Clearly, this was not something he wanted to cause a scene about—not that you were trying to. 

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” Jake asks. You know he's not trying to deflect, he's always been open with you. He just doesn't like being open in public. 

“Wanna go to the tree house?” you offer.

“That thing’s still standing?” He looks at you with wide eyes, clearly shocked. You chuckle as you nod.

“C'mon,” you nod your head and head back down the street to your house, where you slip into the backyard and to the old oak tree in the back corner where your father had built a treehouse for you and Jake. Neither of you have been inside it since middle school. Well, you'd been in it a few times since Jake had left, for sentimental reasons, but only a few times. Mostly just to clean the leaves and stuff out of it. 

Now, the two of you stand beneath it, looking up at it.

“After you,” you gesture to the ladder for him to climb up first, before he starts shaking his head quickly.

“No, please, you first, I insist!” He says, making you snicker and shake your head as you start to climb up the ladder. When you look back down, you see him still at the bottom, one foot on the first step, glancing up hesitantly. His eyes widen a little, like he was caught red handed when he meets your eyes. He's so cute when he's embarrassed. 

“You comin’, Jakey?” you ask, your voice teasing as you use the nickname you had used when you were like ten.

“Don't me call that,” he rolls his eyes as he starts to slowly climb up the ladder until he's inside the tree house, sitting opposite of you.

“Why not? Too big and tough for it?” you continue to tease him. 

“No, because I'm not ten years old anymore,” he answers with a raised eyebrow. “I can't believe this thing isn't falling apart by now.”

“Well they tend to stay together when you keep up the maintenance,” you shrug, going to sit in the corner by the window, your favorite spot as a child.

“Who's kept up the maintenance?”

“Me,” you raise a challenging brow at him, almost daring him to keep bugging you about it. “Now…to the topic at hand.”

His natural smile, that he always seems to have when you're around, falters when you change the subject, nodding as he scoots over to his window on the opposite side of the treehouse. The window where he'd keep guard if any “enemies” (aka adults) were coming.

“Right… Look, I should've told you I was leaving. I'm sorry I didn't, I just…” he sighs, trailing off as he looks out the window.

“You just what?”

“You would have asked me to stay…And I would have listened to you,” he admits quietly, watching your family as they mull about inside the house.

“Why is that a bad thing?” You ask him softly. 

“Because I couldn't stay. I had to leave. To keep us safe.”

“Us?” you ask, heart skipping. Was he protecting what could have been between you? But you see him point to his temple as he looks back at you. Ah, us. His alters and himself.

“You know what life was like for us. I had to get us out of there,” he says simply.

“I would've understood, Jake.” 

Jake just stays quiet, dark brown eyes still looking out the window. He knows you would’ve understood. But that’s part of the problem isn’t it? That no matter what he does, even if he has wronged you, you seem to understand, as if you’ve forgiven him. He doesn’t deserve it, does he? Your forgiveness, your kindness. You’ve always been too good of a friend to him. It’s why he tried to stay away, because he knew you’d gladly welcome him back like this. 

“So you came all the way back to apologize?” you ask, realizing he had no intention of responding.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to leave again?”

He went quiet again. You weren’t sure if that meant yes or no. So you wait to see if he responds.

“Do you want me to leave again?” he finally says quietly.

“No. My best friend just came home, I’m in no rush to lose him again. But I understand if you do,” you admit softly.

“How do you always understand?” he asks, turning to you, his brows furrowed, confused. 

“What do you mean?”

“Every time I leave or come to you with some shit excuse for how I’ve been acting, you always understand. When I told you there were other people inside my head, you understood. When I would ask to crash at your place at random times in the night, covered in bruises, you never asked for an explanation, you just understood. When I left town after graduation without ever telling you a single thing, you understood. How do you always understand?” His voice sounds almost pleading, his eyes trying to find an explanation written on your face.

“I don’t know…I just do. Because you’re my best friend. I’ve never needed an explanation from you. I just trusted you. You never did anything without reason. I understand because I know that life isn’t perfect and I certainly can’t be perfect, so how could I expect you to be as well?” you admit, the words coming to you easier than you thought they would. “Because understanding you has always come easy to me. You could say nothing at all and I’d understand what you mean. You’re like…”

“Like what?” Jake asks when you trail off. He catches the sight of your pink cheeks in the sunlight. For a moment, he allows himself to think about how pretty you are. Though, he’s always thought you were pretty. For a moment, his silly little heart hopes you say what he wants you to say, what he wanted to say before he left.

“You’re like… my soulmate,” you say softly. “I know it sounds silly and childish, but it’s true. We’ve gone through so much together and we always have each other, even after being separated for years. You’re my soulmate, Jake, and I-”

“I love you,” he rushes to say before you can even think of the words. You stop speaking, having been caught off guard, for many reasons. 

For one, you never expected him to be the first one to say those three words. You always thought you’d have to be the one to say them. Secondly, you never thought he’d say those words to you. You never could have imagined your best friend feeling the same way as you. And yet, here he was, saying them. Before you and to you. This has to be a dream. 

“Lo siento,” he starts to say, his eyes a little panicked. “I didn’t mean to say it. I just- I thought that’s where you were going so I thought I’d say it. Mira, don’t feel obligated to say it back, I just-”

“I love you, too,” you cut off his anxious rambling. He stares at you a moment like you’ve grown a second head. “I’m not just saying it because you said, either. Jake, I’ve loved you since high school. I wanted to tell you then, but I was scared, and then I went to tell you and you were-”

“Gone. Fuck…” he breathes, looking down as he seems to mull this over. “I think I had to leave to realize it myself. I missed you, almost came home so many times, I kept wondering why I felt like something was missing. Why some days I felt like I couldn’t breathe suddenly whenever I wanted to speak to you or see you. One day, it hit me: I loved you, and missed you.”

You almost can’t believe it. That he was admitting this to you. He was explaining himself, and you knew it wasn’t because he felt like he had to. It was because he wanted to. And you weren’t even sure how to express what you felt other than leaning across the space and taking his face in your hands and kissing him.

And boy, did it feel right. His pink lips, thought you’d often caught yourself staring at, fit perfectly against yours. They were soft, and he tasted like…raspberries? He must’ve snuck some when he got here. But he seemed frozen, his lips weren’t moving against yours. Fuck, did you cross a line? He might not have been ready for that. And just as you start to pull away, his lips chase yours, taking them back between his own, hungry to keep your sweet lips against his. He’d just gotten his first taste of the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, and he sure as hell wasn’t letting it leave his lips anytime soon. 

The way you two seemed to move together, in sync with each other, was electrifying. Jake cups one of your cheeks in his calloused hand, his other hand slipping behind your back to pull you closer to him, the small space of the tree house practically forcing you into his lap – not that you minded. 

When you two finally part, it’s not because you want to. It’s because you have to. Because you both need air to breathe. So, you sit in his lap, nose nuzzled together as you both catch your breath, looking at each other. 

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” you breathe with a soft giggle.

“Because then it wouldn’t have been as sweet as that was,” he points out with a smile, leaning in to give your lips a soft peck.

“Well, I suppose you have a point, there,” you smile wide, looking into those eyes that melt into chocolate when the sun beams hit them just right. 

“Course I do,” he grins, kissing you again, losing himself against your lips. And you’re just as bad, falling even deeper in love with him every second you’re in his arms. It feels like a dream come true. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips.

“Te amo,” he whispers back. 

And so you sit, basking in each other’s presence, finally in the arms of your best friend again, your soulmate, your lover. And it seems only fitting that the place you finally become lovers is the same place where you decided to become friends:

In the tree house in the old oak tree in your backyard. 

______________________________________________________________

here's my bingo card. I figured it'd look better down here!

tag list: @juneknight @spacecowboyhotch @moonknight-events @gardenof-venus @fandomtrash465 @pinkpenwuin @sleepyamaya @sm8th0p @firesidefandoms @missmarmaladeth @stevenandmarcslove @avengersinitiative2012 @lunaleah @winxschester @shadowmoonnight @ahookedheroespureheart @phan3145 @local-mr-frog @theconsultingdoctor10 @luvpedropascal @violet-19999 @an0th3rsss @iamcoolguy @fruitymoonbeams-blog @marisferasiop @bensolosbluesaber @rellasnowheenim @quethekillerqueen @jake-g-lockley @whydidigetalibralartsdegree @moonknightwifey @howaboutcastiel @princessloveweird @minigirl87 @midgardian-witch @leahnicole1219 @acciocriativity @missxlause @groovycass @kotonei-molyneux @marc-spectorr @toracainz

[asimplearchivist]

𝓢𝓪𝓭 𝓔𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ you and jake enjoy having movie nights, but he has the habit of spoiling the endings for you. this time is different, though. pairing(s) ☽ jake lockley/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 1.9k a/n ☽ ⤏ my fifth entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. this takes place post-chapter iii. ⤏ this one derailed from me as well. I swear these guys have minds of their own. this ended up being a lot sappier than I intended, but...c'est la vie. I love one jake lockley. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY ☽

“I’ll never forgive you for this.”

“Come on, querida. You should’ve had some idea that this would happen.”

“No, I absolutely did not!” You lifted your face from your hands, twisting to the side with your elbows still planted on your knees in order to glare up at your smirking fellow historical drama critic. “It’s not my fault that I don’t have a sixth sense for figuring out plot lines in the first ten minutes like you do!”

“Says the writer,” he chuckled, eyes glittering. “If it makes you feel any better, Steven wasn’t expecting it, either.”

That did, actually. You and Steven had long since developed the practice of conducting ongoing commentaries and speculations on the potential plotline based on the details revealed in whatever media you’d enjoy together—be it TV shows, movies, or books (print or audio)—whereas Jake was more the type to verbalize his predictions as they came to him, disregarding any suspension of disbelief. At least Marc only remarked on the glaring inaccuracies regarding combat, weapons, or injuries that Hollywood lauded for exaggerated effect.

On one hand, it used to drive you crazy—you preferred to experience things as they unfolded and let the story tell itself, following along for the ride…but, on the other hand, the knowing gleam in Jake’s eyes, the smug tilt of his close-lipped grin, and the way he’d start to pay more attention to you instead of the film (particularly with his hands—rubbing his palm over the line of your, at times, tense shoulders, grasping the nape of your neck and stroking the pad of his thumb along your hairline and under the shell of your ear, or petting your head like one would a beloved pet—about which you could never truly complain) eroded your exasperation over time. Now you almost looked forward to it—even if you still gave him a hard time about the inevitable spoilers involved.

Tonight, it would seem, however, that he’d decided to bide his time in order to see your unprepared reaction without dropping an obvious statement that would have indicated the plot twist to you ahead of time. For once, admittedly, you would’ve appreciated the warning.

“How could they say that about her?” you bemoaned, eyes returning to the screen with prolific lamentation. “She’s literally done nothing to them—she doesn’t even want to marry him, they didn’t have to drag her reputation through the mud!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, querida,” Jake chuckled, “it was visible from miles away.”

You huffed and turned away from him, refocusing your attention on the television screen. You watched the protagonist’s subsequent emotional breakdown with trepidation, frowning as she was scorned and criticized by the people that should have been her allies and had claimed to have been her friends. The only people that believed she was innocent in the matter were her sister and, fortunately, her love interest. He arrived late the next rainy night on a raven-black horse that shivered and bellowed mist from his nostrils as the man, drenched and pensive, dismounted to greet the distressed young woman at the door of her family’s home.

“Hey,” Jake murmured, nudging your side with his elbow. “It’ll turn out fine.”

You glanced up at him, relaxing slightly. You’d been teased in the past by several people for being so emotionally invested in fictional characters and their plight—your ex included—and while you weren’t ashamed of the fact you had the ability to extend so much empathy (even in hypothetical situations), you were sensitive to what others might think. Steven didn’t mind—he was much the same as you, honestly, and that was such a relief. Marc didn’t seem to mind one way or the other, thankfully. But Jake was a notorious tease and found a lot of joy in flustering you, and you were still getting used to gauging his personality since you hadn’t known him as long as the other two—so that he wasn’t poking fun at you about this was a monumental relief.

“I know,” you breathed, sinking into his side. He coiled his arm around your shoulders in response. “He’ll save the day with his money and marry her silly. These things never have sad endings.”

Jake hummed and drummed his fingertips on your upper arm. “It’s a good thing. Wouldn’t want you to be sad, chaparrita. Might have to pay that studio a stern visit otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart squeezed at the sentiment—as aggressive as it was. There was one thing that you had learned for certain since meeting him: Jake showed his love through protectiveness as opposed to the gentler means of the other two men. You’d never want him to hurt someone for you, necessarily (unless they deserved it, of course), but the thought that he would be willing to go up to bat for you, that he had your back no matter what, was far more reassuring than you had ever expected it to be. (Something, something, scary guard dog privileges.)

“Some movies need them, though,” you pointed out. “Sometimes that’s the whole point of the story—something out of the characters’ control happens, and they have to decide how they’ll react. Other times it’s pointless, serves no greater purpose to enhance the plot.”

“Shit happens in real life for no reason, though,” Jake pointed out, voice low as the music onscreen swelled. The love interest was embracing the weeping protagonist, having informed her that he had, in fact, solved the issue. “Sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it.”

You nodded, dropping your head onto his shoulder. “Some people are fortunate enough to have happy endings, though,” you murmured. “It’s a dangerous thing to claim, because things could always go wrong, but…” You swallowed, tucking your nose under the lapel of his shirt. “...I’m glad I met you guys. It was worth everything I’ve gone through.”

Jake stilled, falling silent. You had also learned that such intimate proclamations tended to throw him for a loop—he was not accustomed to revealing his inner emotions, since he’d repressed them (and himself) for so long. He was getting better at communicating in general, thanks to Steven’s long-suffering patience and gentle coaxing, but you could tell anything ‘mushy’ made him slightly uncomfortable. (Having noticed this, you’d asked him early on if he wanted you to slow down on giving him affection—but he’d visibly recoiled at that suggestion, more demanding than asking you not to stop. You could only really speculate since he didn’t talk about it much, but you knew that if you were in his position, even if such attention was new, you’d be famished for it. You’d decided he was just embracing his adjustment period instead of avoiding it, like Marc had tended to do at first.)

He shifted, angling his body closer to yours, and tucked the end of his nose behind the shell of your ear. “...We’re glad we met you, too, querida,” he finally murmured, his free hand slipping down to curl around the knob of your knee. He pressed his face into your neck, and you wondered if he could feel your pounding pulse against his lips. “You’ve done us a whole lot of good.”

Chest tightening, you focused resolutely on the television despite the warring urge to arm him up and press a litany of kisses all over his face and head—any affection he felt comfortable doling out was precious indeed, and you would grant him the privacy of tucking himself out of sight, even if it was under your chin. Marc struggled the most with letting himself be seen as any semblance of vulnerable—and while Jake was more inclined and apt to it, he was still learning to trust you in particular, so allow himself to lower his guard and be himself with you (while, simultaneously, discovering and determining exactly who he was).

To receive a compliment of such caliber from Jake, though, was the highest bestowment of honor anyone could receive. He was picky, you’d learned, extremely so—especially regarding people with whom he associated. He had high standards, given the fact that his top priority had always been protecting the system first and foremost. Allowing anyone with dangerous intentions close enough to potentially hurt them was simply unacceptable, and thus he kept most everyone at arm’s length. That was why he’d acted in such a way towards you when he’d been forced to intervene for Marc’s sake, leading to your first ‘official’ meeting—he never gave anyone the benefit of a doubt until they proved themselves worthy of his extremely loyal regard (and his protection).

“I’m glad,” you responded softly. “I always try my best.”

“It’s all we could ever have asked for.”

You caved, but just slightly. You tilted your head down to press a lingering kiss to the crown of his head, nestling your nose into the neatly combed curls and inhaling the complimentary scents of their shampoo and hair gel. You curled an arm around his back and rubbed your palm in a series of circles between his shoulder blades, forgoing the movie for the sensation of his breath hitching against your throat.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For letting me have my happy ending.”

He swallowed roughly, and when his muscles went rigid you almost expected one of the others to surface—Jake had a habit of retreating when emotions got to be too much for him, which you’d never taken offense to (only had ever worried, but it wasn’t usually very long before he slipped back into the driver’s seat to reassure you by diverting the topic to let you know he was okay)—but instead of Steven’s falsetto lilt or Marc’s flat baritone emerging to notify you of the switch, Jake’s rumbling rasp vibrated your skin via his scruffy lips brushing your artery. “It’s I who should be thanking you, chaparrita, for not running for the hills when you had the chance. You’ve…been there for them when I couldn’t be. And you didn’t…you stuck around for me.” He cleared his throat quietly. “Gracias.”

“De nada,” you returned, kissing his head again and reaching up to play with the errant locks at the nape of his neck. “Eres precioso a mi.”

He let out a breathless, if slightly wet, chuckle, and snuggled in closer. You counted it precious. You counted them precious.

“Tengo hambre,” you commented after a while, sensing he might like to have an out. “¿Qué tenemos qué podemos comer?”

Jake retracted, but it was slow and borderline reluctant, if you didn’t know any better. “Let’s order something, chaparrita. I don’t feel like futzing around in the kitchen this late.”

You smiled and reached for your phone. “Sounds good to me. Asian or…?”

“Thai.” To your surprise, Jake tugged at your arms as he reclined, coaxing you to recline on top of him, your back to his chest. He wrapped you up in an unyielding, tight embrace, smothering his face into your neck once more to mumble against your ear. “Those glass noodles Marc’s gotten before are good. With the chicken.”

You tried your best to bite back your smile, but you couldn’t help the heat building beneath your cheeks. You raised your phone over your face to pull up the corresponding delivery app. “Anything for you, handsome. Anything for you.”

[moonknight-events]

That’s a Wrap!

Thank you so much to everyone who participated in the bingo event! We will be tallying up the bingos and drawing a winner at random, to be notified later this week. We had an incredible turnout and many amazing fics. Thanks for making this so much fun.

—A&C