#and a good player too but his planning is paying off so much

[time-slink]

aaaand etho continues to peel farther away from everyone else on the embers chart o7

[bhaalble]

Back on my Wyll script doctor because I was talking about it with a friend. Specifically imagining a version of Wyll's big Character Choice that felt like it had some actual teeth.

Imagine a world where instead of a cartoon evil hot lady Mizora and Wyll's relationship actually had some complexity to it and like. some genuine push and pull which gives him temptation to stay. I just keep thinking about this 17 year old who his whole life wanted more than anything to be a hero, who got his chance to do something heroic and selfless and save the city from certain doom, and his reward is getting kicked out because he did it the "wrong way".

Imagine if instead of forcing his silence, Mizora instead comforted him. How unbelievably cruel of your father! Well...since you've nowhere else to go, why not stick with me? We make a pretty good team, as it turns out, and I can get you a whole list of monsters who need killing. Plenty of devils and demons loose in your world targetting all sorts of innocents. Our interests can keep aligning, and you get a place to sleep when you need it.

Wyll makes his peace with it, because he has nothing and no one. And Mizora's not GOOD maybe, not by Ulder Ravengard's definition. But she's fun. She delights in his growth. And she does certainly keep direct him at greater evils, devils who really do need killing. And if she spies on his every waking moment, well, she worries. If she sends him after the occasional innocent, well, she had people who she has to answer to as well. She's a devil, how much can he fault her for her nature? She's always seemed like she knew where the line was...

Karlach (and the player) express their doubts, of course, but for act one at least he's defensive. Yes, she punished him and he hates it and its miserable but....he was in breach of contract! She's NEVER gone outside its bounds, she's always stuck very closely to their agreement. Wyll, who wants so badly to trust others and believe everyone has the chance for good, can't find it in him to believe the worst even of a devil.

And Mizora is FOND of Wyll, loves him even in her way. As a cherished pet, as a trusted tool, as a best-laid plan. Never enough to choose his own well-being over her own agenda, never enough to see him as his own person. He's her little project, the long shot noble brat she gambled on when Tiamat decided to get too big for her britches. And it paid off! Wyll always pays off, currying her all the favor from Zariel she so desperately craves. And who are you, or anyone, to come between them? She's treated him well. As she's quick to remind him, she wanted him when no one else did, aided him while the rest of his city slept snug in their beds. And if Ulder Ravengard didn't want a son with a whiff of infernal, then do you REALLY think he'd want you with lovely horns and Avernus in your blood?

You discover his father's been taken. Beyond igniting a lot of old feelings, it brings up a question of succession. Of course, Florrick isnt giving up on him, but if not...there aren't currently any likely candidates to take over the Flaming Fists. Not trustworthy ones. Florrick will take the position, but everyone knows in the back of his mind Ulder never really stopped planning for it to be Wyll. With the city in chaos and a cult army on the rise, they may need an answer sooner rather than later. Wyll feels the call of the Gate, but knows just as well that Mizora wouldn't want him to return in such an official capacity.

For the first time ever the leash starts to chafe in a way he can't keep pushing through.

Act 2 rolls around. Mizora sends up the Warlock signal. After potentially some encouragement from the player, Wyll (NOT THE PLAYER. I DONT KNOW WHY ITS THE PLAYER IN THE GAME ITS WEIRD) hesitantly proposes that maybe, if he does this....they can do a renegotiation of his contract. Not break it, he assures her quickly! Just....reopen the terms, take a looks at the agreement. Maybe discuss an exit ramp? After all....I mean, neither of us truly thought I'd be doing this forever, did we?

Based on Mizora's reaction. Yeah she did.

But fine. She agrees. And Wyll's not mad that it turns out you're rescuing her, not a nameless "operative" for Zariel. He would've done that on his own had she asked. Its the fact that she apparently didn't feel like being honest, that she let him fret and worry about potentially handing Zariel back some runaway for basically no reason. Its the fact that she came here to check in on the cult that abducted his FATHER just to see if Zariel could make any use of them. And its the fact that she seems surprised and annoyed that ANY of this bothers him.

All this builds, of course, to the final confrontation. The basic elements are the same. Mizora outside the coronation (this time needling at Wyll, "I'll be at camp if you're not too high and mighty to consort with the likes of me anymore"), Ulder tadpoled and fighting it. Mizora makes her offer. I can end the contract now, and you're free to go running after daddy (who won't want you btw! not like I do!). You'll lose all your powers, all my aid, all those juicy quests to chase down the greatest monsters in the hells. Take on your father's job and settle in for a life of misery and compromise and only doing as much good as the nobles will let you. Or: pledge yourself to me, eternally. I'll give you a boatload of new powers and eternal life to boot, so long as you serve as my sword and shield.

From there I think three endings branch out, and with it three classes for Wyll. If he stays with Mizora, accepts a relationship where he will never be an equal or a free agent in exchange for the affirmation he wants so badly from his father, he remains a Warlock, with some juiced stats and extra spell slots, along with shiny new gear. If he pledges to follow in his father's footsteps, he instead becomes an Oath of Devotion paladin, pledging himself in service to Tyr, if with a sense of doomed finality. The Blade of Frontiers is officially retired, and along with it any identity he has outside of being his father's son. Or the third path, break the contract without taking his father's role. He will look for his father, yes, but whether or not you find him he's going back to his roots, travelling around to do some good in the world (as the Blade of Frontiers) or kicking ass in the Hells with Karlach (as the Blade of Avernus). In this timeline he becomes a fighter, with a default preference for Eldritch Knight.

What's important: if he breaks his contract then Mizora is NOT hanging around camp. She will leave in a fury, accidentally bound by her own word to withdraw her influence completely if he breaks his contract. She may still approach the player some night to sleep with the player, framed for high approval/romanced players and her trying to take something back from Wyll. But Wyll will have to learn how to define himself without her breathing down his neck, without keeping her happy dominating his every thought. Its nervewracking, and even lonesome at times...but its freedom. And, perhaps, that's worth a little bit of lonesomeness.

[bucknastysbabe]

idk if your taking requests but I’m in desperate need of more modern AU Jace fics. Maybe if he was a cocky hockey player with his giant dick I need smut 🙏

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Hockey player!Jace, Actress!Reader, fake dating trope, my not sly commentary about parasocial fangirl behaviors and pressure on women in high profile industries, she has honkers and he has a horse cawk match made in heaven, Jacey is a little sweet babey always, real kittycat eating hours, teasing, pnv!sex, v!fingering, fast burn, lots of banter :)

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @valeskafics @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @fairysluna @sugarpoppss2 @lovelykhaleesiii

The contracts were to be signed today. Jace was to be in a PR ‘relationship’ with this break-out actress. He was a star himself in the NHL, winning the Hart Memorial trophy for being the most valuable player his rookie year. He played centre, covering the ice and passing to his teammates to make a goal. He got a huge deal in the aftermath.

Suddenly his world was much more glamorous.

He wasn’t sure who sucked whose dick but he agreed to dating the starlet. He flew down from Toronto to the upscale management office in New York to meet the chick. He’d heard her name, couldn’t put a face to it, and certainly didn’t look her up. The brunette hoped she was a looker like his manager said.

He was pleasantly surprised, shaking her manicured hand. Jacaerys grinned as he introduced himself, poorly hiding his leering gaze on her tight little body. The actress was smoking hot. He wondered if she would be down to fool around. He had no desire for romance outside of planned sightings. He wasn’t much into that at the moment. Jace dated his high school sweetheart Rhaena until he’d gone big time.

She didn’t acclimate to fame and his constant absence. Jace understood why she broke it off. When they were seen— reporters interrupted. Pictures of fan girls crowding around him surfaced all the time. She deleted her socials due to harassment. He was saddened but figured it was a sign to let loose. So let loose he did.

Jacaerys had fucked plenty of puck bunnies, professional athletes, and the occasional hook-up with famous names by now. His brother called him cocky, and his mother snapped to not let the fame get to his head. He listened, truly, Jace loved his family and wanted to make them proud.

But honestly? When he was accomplishing everything he dreamed of and the money was flowing in, Jace couldn’t help but feel a bit over-confident. He knew he was talented, handsome, and a good fuck. He’d learned from a young age that his…dick…was different. In layman’s terms, he had a horse cock. By God, he was proud of that thing too.

They sat down in adjacent chairs, waiting for the agent to come to debrief them on the terms of the relationship. Jacaerys' brown eyes flicked over to her bored face, down to her busty chest, and back up. She scoffed “You haven’t seen my tits on the silver screen?”

He grinned, asking “I don’t get around to movies much. Care to enlighten me?”

Her lips turned into a frown, posture stiffening up. The actress shook her head, pulling out her phone to text rapidly. She was likely talking shit. Jace prodded, “What? Am I missing something? I’m playing hockey year round babe.”

“I literally am up for a Golden Globe for leading actress in a drama,” she grumbled, “Apparently you don’t read either.” She turned back to type on her phone again, lips settling into a pout. The athlete was a little taken aback by her attitude. He liked it. It appeared she was used to cinephile sycophants and co-stars trying to get a piece.

He hummed a laugh, spreading out in the wide chair. They waited, her nails clicking on the cell phone beginning to irritate Jacaerys. He absently asked "You like hockey? It's pretty fun to watch live."

"I don't really pay attention to sports, I act year round babe."

Jace's eyes widened in surprise. She was a spitfire under the glossy hair and now placid expression. He knew better than to irk her more, his mother taught him to respect women. The athlete was drawn in, he wanted a reaction, the attention whether it was negative or not. He smirked at her, leaning over, "Why did you pick me then? Don't like hockey, don't seem quite fond of me."

Her own lips curled a bit, the woman tucking a loose lock of hair behind a jeweled ear. She stated, "I got a list, you were single and cute. Word on the street was that you were a bit nicer than who I am sitting with now. Don't worry, it won't be too long, you'll be back to railing your way through Toronto soon." Her smile was thin, a blank look to her eyes.

Jace's chest fluttered a bit, guilt seeping into his mind. Before he could apologize the door opened. A man in a suit briskly walked in, setting down some papers. He eyed the pair to ask "Ready for the terms?" They both nodded, and Jace noticed her frown grow deeper. Damn. He felt like an asshole.

"Alright Jacaerys Velaryon, you'll be 'dating' my client for three months minimum. If you two hit it off, good job, enjoy your relationship. You two must be seen in public at least bi-weekly, my client will be at your games, and maintaining PDA is required. I'd recommend going out with your friends and playing the part. We'll sign an NDA and get this show on the road. Sound good?"

"Sure."

"Can't wait," she deadpanned.

They scribbled their names and exited the meeting. The actress ignored Jacaerys as she left, answering a phone call, pointedly looking away. He eventually cornered her up to exchange phone numbers. The pair had to exit the building at separate times so as not to draw attention.

Jace decided to read up on his faux girlfriend for the flight home. The actress was talented, the same age as him, and booked for the year. He decided to shoot her a text, damned lingering guilt eating at him. The hockey player was soft at heart, always had been. He could play the part of a cocky athlete but he truly hated confrontation, upsetting others, and general dickishness. That was for his uncles.

"Sorry about being a dick. Going to watch your movie tonight. Should I start with your small role in that sitcom?"

His dark eyes raptly watched the typing bubble. It disappeared, reappeared-- finally a response showed up. She had replied with an emoji rolling its eyes. "God, please don't, I look like a freak. The movie is much better. Then you can tell me about my tits. Apology accepted. See you next week in Toronto, make sure to clean the thongs outta your place."

Jace grinned, excitement coursing through his veins. He ended up making a big show picking her up from the airport. He grabbed the luggage and put it in his new sleek car. A couple of people had stopped her, even Jace for some autographs. The brunette made sure to hug the actress-- pulling her in for a searing kiss. His hand possessively splayed across her lower back, fingers grazing her pert ass.

He opened the door to let her in the car, cameras flashing now. Jace leaned in to whisper, "I have to admit, you have a beautiful body." She flushed and pecked his lips again, shooting him a smile. The hockey player climbed into the driver's side and off they went. He snuck a look and added, "I didn't really find any thongs but everything is pristine, Miss Golden Globe Nominee."

"Good, Mister Hart Trophy Winner."

Jace couldn't help but smile. He enjoyed her banter while they headed to his place. The woman was witty and playful, her icy facade melting as he listened to her. Jace carried her bags into the luxury apartment complex, while she had a roller bag. He teased, "You got boulders in here?"

"I'm staying for a bit, need to be prepared. You can run around in a tracksuit and no one bats an eye. If I look like a slob the tabloids are going to wonder if I'm a drunk or something. You won't believe the 'inside sources' I apparently have."

Jace frowned, scoffing, "That's bullshit. They put so much pressure on women in the industry."

She gazed at him, eyes softened as she thanked him in a reverent tone. Jace felt his cheeks heat up. He was beginning to wonder if he was having a moment of weakness or simply struck dumb by her looks and powerful presence. "At the least, I'm not a model."

Jacaerys snorted. He's had his fair share of models. He assumed they were all a bit nutty from the coke, not the horrid pressure from their nigh-impossible standards of beauty to uphold. "Good point," he conceded.

She stared around his loft, lips quirking up. The woman placed her bag down and strolled to the huge windows overlooking the city. Casting a glance back at Jacaerys she marveled, "It's gorgeous Jacaerys. Much prettier than LA." He smiled and replied, "Wait until you see it at night, I never get tired of the view."

Jace liked the way she said his full name. Maybe too much. He felt his cheeks begin to burn again. His animal hindbrain tittered "How would she sound moaning that?"

Awkwardness settled over the pair, her turning back to look out the window. Jace stated, "I'll put your things in the guest room, it's got a big bathroom and all."

"Thanks hun," she hummed. She followed along to place the luggage down, flopping onto the bed. Her big eyes followed Jace's form as she commented, "I highly doubt you decorated the place but it's nice. Very...Feng shui."

"Mom did all of that, I do try to keep it clean. I fear she'll appear and scold me. You could lick off the floor at my place growing up."

"Ha! I wish! I'm cluttered as all get out."

Jace gave her a faux glare, "Better keep it tidy, babe."

"Uh-huh, sure, what's on the docket for today? I want a tour and a cocktail to cap it off at dinner."

"You mean the club?"

Jace couldn't stop his cock from twitching when she smiled at him coquettishly, sparkling teeth gleaming as she purred "Of course stud, let's see what the rake of the Maple Leafs is putting down. I wanna see you dance!"

Oh. He was in quite deep. Jacaerys Velaryon might have developed an infatuation faster than he could pass a puck.

They held hands walking around Toronto, catching lunch as he showed her the sights. They rested on a bench in a park, Jace's arm slung around her shoulders, their heads close together as they spoke. The pair of them stared at her phone, giggling. The actress read off the Instagram post, "Starlet dating hockey star Jace Velaryon?"

"They're quick with it, for the love of god don't look at the comments."

Her pretty eyes rolled, "They call me an industry whore, nothing new, let me see this." Her red lacquered nail clicked on the comments. She guffawed, lips spreading into a smile. Jace raised a brow and looked over. He shook his head in annoyance-- how could 'fans' of his be so angry? Wouldn't they want him to be happy?

'Please, this won't last a second.'

'Pr relationship so obvious.'

'Jaceeeee whyyyyy she's such a bad actress.'

"A Golden Globe nominee is a bad actress? God, don't listen to that nonsense," he grumbled, tightening his arm around her shoulders. She shrugged and clicked on a fan page of her own. Jace seemed to settle at the more uplifting comments. He laughed out loud at one, 'Loveeee get it mother!' Jace outright guffawed at the second one, 'Be careful babes, don't get split by his infamous horse dick!!!'

"I like my fans better. I'll have to check out your fan cams at some point."

Jace rolled his eyes, helplessly grinning. His eyes flicked to a camera shuttering. Ah great, paparazzi, he thought. The brunette was planning on intentionally kissing her. He glared at the person and sniffed, "Come on, let's head back to my place for a bit." She cooed "What? Don't want your pic taken Jacey?"

"Nope, we need nap time before hitting the nightlife."

"I hope we see Drake. That would be cool."

Jace laughed his ass off. When they got into the elevator he crowded her up, hands on her waist. She inhaled, eyes widening, full lips quirking up. He murmured softly, "You're so...I can't find the words." Her arms loosely linked around his shoulders, soft lips so close. She whispered, "Actions speak louder than words pretty boy."

Next thing Jace knew her legs were locked around his hips, the pair making out as he blindly keyed open the door to his loft. Kicking the door open, the brunette pressed her against the wall, mouthing his way down her neck. The actress' nails dug into his shoulders as she moaned, breasts heaving in excitement. He nipped at her collarbone, mumbling, "Lemme eat you out, fuck, please."

"Bed now," she demanded in return.

He deposited the beauty on his bed, wildly jerking at his clothes. She was shimmying off her leggings, the sweatshirt she borrowed hitting the wall. Jace climbed atop her in his underwear, grinding against her pussy, mouth latching back onto plush lips. She whined under her breath when he lapped into her mouth, calloused hands playing with peaked nipples.

They grew sloppy, Jace finally kissing and sucking his way down her tight body. He grabbed one of her legs as he sucked on the thin skin of the hip, dark eyes blown black with arousal. She gripped at his hair, breathless, "Fu-uck Jacaerys, please, please." Jace grinned, rumbling, "I gotcha baby, screw the club, I'll show you a good time tonight yeah?" He was hopelessly earnest, swollen lips hovering above her mound.

"Yes yes baby, want it all, please, you're killing me." Jace could lose his mind at the way her voice cracked into a whimper, brows pinching in agony. She even thrust fruitlessly upwards-- Jace's other hand keeping her hip pinned. He grunted, "Spread em' sweetheart."

He tongued at her engorged clit off the rip, hands digging into the soft meat of the thighs. The actress cried out, back arching all gorgeous, tits bouncing with the movement. Her hand tightened in his curls as Jace suckled, eyes watching every little move. He snuck his fore and middle fingers up and across her sopping slit, smirking.

He delved them into her cunt as his tongue joined, playfully lapping as the excess slick, moaning at her natural taste. She whimpered again, thighs tightening as Jacaerys crooked his fingers up into her g-spot, flicking his tongue upwards and back to her clitoris. He paused to groan, "You feel good pretty girl?"

She moaned his name and babbled nonsense, pussy throbbing and drenching his fingers. Jacaerys' smiled-- she moaned his name just as he imagined. He had a rhythm alternating between teasing jabs of his tongue and suckling on the bundle of nerves. She was growing frantic, tossing her hair around and practically howling in pleasure.

He sped up the pace, relentlessly working her pretty pussy until the darling shrieked his name, clenching his hair. Her thighs twitched and clamped around his head, body arched as she heaved and cried. Jace groaned at her gushing around his fingers, long lashes fluttering in pure want. He needed to fuck her, now.

He pulled down his briefs as she laid back, panting, pretty face dazed and flushed-- a light sheen of sweat had covered her naked body. He climbed atop her, pleading, "C'mon sweets, think you can take it? Take me? I'll give you another orgasm, too goddamn perfect not too, god."

Her lidded eyes widened at his cock. It was flushed and heavy, too heavy to do anything but hang between his impossibly toned thighs. The actress rasped, "Give it to me, I can take it, ease it in." She kissed the brunette open-mouthed and wet, shaky legs pulling up to cage his hips in.

Jace's breath stuttered as he guided the fat tip of his cock into her soaked pussy, feeling the stretch immediately. She clung to him, pouring herself into his lips, nails digging into his shoulder blades. He slid in another agonizing two inches, gasping, "Fuck you're tight."

She responded by sucking blooming marks into his tensed neck, eyes rolling up when the thick middle of his cock spread her wide open. "Jacaerys, Jacaerys, you feel so good- so damn big baby!" He kept pushing against the slight resistance, settling as deep as he could.

His brown eyes clenched tight, she was like a silky glove around his cock. Hazily he felt her stomach, eyes lolling around at the bump from his cock. She was mewling wetly at the junction of neck and shoulder, non-stop babbling about being so full. Jace panted, "Mm, yeah, lookit' you, stretched your pretty pussy out."

He began to fuck in earnest, chasing a high. Her cunt dragged and clung to his fat cock, ridged insides sending sharp arousal up his spine. Jace lost himself in the moment, mouthing at a pert nipple, heavy balls slapping against her ass. She cried and yelled, worthy of a fucking porno. He knew he wasn't going to last long. But the way she was practically shivering and fuck-dumb, slurring her words of nonsense, she was right with Jace.

"M'gonna cum baby, you on birth control?"

"Fuck me, jus' keep fuckin' me," she rasped. Plan B was always an option when her mind returned to non-mush. Jace kept fucking her as instructed, groans growing desperate and guttural. His balls were drawing up, aching from how needy he was to cum.

He kissed her one more time, swallowing her noises before pulling back to pant against her cheek, hips beginning to stutter. He snuck a hand down to her cunt, thumbing her clit. Just when he thought it couldn't get any better-- she shrieked again. A gush of her slick engulfed his cock, wet noises filling the bedroom. Jace cried her name, shoving himself deep and filling her up.

He might've sent her into another orgasm but Jacaerys was whited out from pleasure. All the athlete could do was pathetically groan as his cock twitched and pumped his heavy load into her cock, thickening the slick coating on his prick, collecting around where they joined. It was delightfully filthy. He came too with a deep inhale, sliding out with a mewl and flopping away.

Overstimulation was a common theme with the girls he fucked-- Jace knew to give some space in the immediate aftermath. It wasn't too long before she complained, "Why are you flopped over there? Get over here, you just fucked my brains out."

He grinned like a sap. How did she have yet another moment where he found himself deeper in desire for the woman. Jace murmured, "My bad, my bad, didn't want to overheat you or anything." She retorted, "I'm a cuddler Jacaerys Velaryon, you should remember that about your girlfriend." He chuckled, jerking her into his embrace, tucking a chin on her shoulder.

"They didn't lie about your horse dick. Hate to tell your fan girlies that cock belongs to me now."

Jace smirked, pressing a gentle peck to her skin, "It's all yours, believe me. They can find the next rookie of the year to be their online boyfriend."

[suhkusa]

EGOIST 16.

PAIRING. Atsumu Miya x f!Reader

CW. fluff, slight feelings

A/N. cute or naw

-> MASTERLIST.

There’s one month left to prepare for the Championships, yet here you were snoozing on, pro-volleyball player, Atsumu Miya’s floor.

“Y/N,” he calls, “Wake up,”

It’s bright, when you wake up, the sun is already shining high in the sky.

“Holy shit, what time is it?”

He looks behind him then back down at you, “2:36,”

This causes you to jump up, “And you didn’t wake me up?”

“No,” he says, “I ordered food, hurry up before it gets cold,”

Your face scrunches up at his reply, “No Atsumu, I need to go home,” your body aches as you make your way onto your feet.

Atsumu looks back at you with a dead serious look before saying, “You owe me a date,” before stalking off back into the living room.

Fuck.

———

After locating the extra toothbrushes in Atsumu’s bathroom, you follow the smell of the food into his living room. You couldn’t really see it last night since it was so dark, but his house is nice. But that’s to be expected from someone who’s a pro-volleyball player.

“I just order pizza and wings, if that’s alright?”

You make a noise in confirmation before finding a seat next to him on the couch, you reach out to grab a slice of pizza.

“This is your idea of a date?” you ask, taking a bite of the pizza.

“Mm, well, yeah,” he finishes the bite in his mouth before continuing, “The other ones will be fancier and more planned out though, so don’t worry,”

“Other ones?” your eyebrow raises at his choice of words.

You can tell even Atsumu caught himself off guard, hesitating before attempting to correct himself, “I mean like, if we were to hangout again with the guys,”

Shaking your head, you let out a breathy laugh before continuing to finish the slice.

Atsumu grabs his remotes and throws on the latest Rom-Com that had come out. 

“Ew, you’re a sap,”

“I have feelings, too, you know?”

Yep.

“So, do you plan on renewing your contract with Jackals after this season?” you attempt to start another conversation.

“Work talk? Really? While you’re with me?”

“Yes, because there’s nothing else to talk about,”

“Let’s just watch the movie,” he turns his attention back to the TV, “but yes, I am,”

You nod your head at that before also turning your head to the TV. 

You never considered yourself much of a romantic, which makes a lot of sense since you couldn’t help but fall asleep through the movie. You felt a little bad though, especially when Atsumu shook you awake every now and then to see if you were paying attention. 

It was surprisingly not too bad to be around him. Especially when he wasn’t throwing insults or profanity at you. This was a side to Atsumu Miya you never expected to see. 

“You’re not, like, plotting against me, right?” you say through sleepy eyes.

“What, no? What do you even mean?” his eyes tear off the TV for a brief second.

“Like, you’re not treating me all good, claiming you like me, as some sick joke?”

You see his ears turn red, he probably forgot that he confessed while drunk.

“No,” he hesitated before keeping a straight face, “I like you, for real,”

“And I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I’ll always be sorry to you for what I put you through,”

His words reach the younger you that’s deep inside of you. The words that she never heard finally being spoken, and it’s somewhat healing.

“You never deserved that,” he looks forlorn as he stares at you, “And if I could take it all back, I would,”

“I-” you’re at a loss of words. 

Maybe it was time to forgive him. If what he was saying was true and genuine, then he really meant every word that came out of his mouth.

“It’s fine, Atsumu. We can just put it behind us. I appreciate your words,” 

It was a burden to carry this baggage all throughout your life. It finally felt like it was right to let it all go now. 

“Thank you,” you smiled up at him. 

Forgive but never forget.

———

During the next month leading up to Championships, Atsumu took every chance he would get to sweep you off your feet. 

It might’ve been working. 

He’d come over after practices (even uninvited) to help you organize and take your notes, or sometimes you’d go to his (against your will) to watch movies or play card games. Good morning and good night texts being sent daily. 

It’d never escalate. Never. If something was going to happen, it was going to take time and more inner healing. 

You hate to admit it, but there was a chance you were falling for Atsumu. You hated it so badly. You know you in the past would murder present you for even considering him. But you now feels like it’s not so bad being in his presence.

It’s sad though. Ever since you began talking to Atsumu, it felt like the distance between you and Kiyoomi increased. You still try to text him as much as you possibly can, but it’d take days before he would get back to you.

You suppose it happens.

Atsumu is relentless with his advances, though. Sometimes annoyingly so. Every time he shows up at your door with flowers, popping the question will you be my girlfriend? You’re quick to shut him down with a hard no.

If Atsumu Miya wants you he’s going to have to be patient. It’s the least he could do.

“I don’t know why you say no, we’ve known each other for so long, since high school,” he pouts, looking up at you as he relaxes his head in your lap.

“Did you forget you bullied me for half of that time?” you smile down at him.

His silence is a response in itself. “Thought so,”

———

“Alright guys,” Coach Foster starts, “tomorrow is the big day,”

“I just want to say you guys have been working hard all season, and I’m so proud to have seen all of you grow,”

Some of the guys fake aw at the coach’s words.

“We’ll leave at 6AM tomorrow for the big stage, be there or fend for yourselves,” with a clap of his hands, “Practice dismissed,”

Atsumu is quick to run over to you, using a strong arm to wrap around you and pull you close.

“You ready for tomorrow?”

“Agh, let me go Atsumu!”

He laughs before letting you go, watching as you pat yourself down.

You blow your hair out of your face before finally responding, “I think the real question is are you ready?” you smirk.

“Duh, when am I not?”

“Hah,” you pull your bag onto your shoulder, “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Let me walk you out,” he runs to grab his stuff before catching back up to you. 

“So what do you say we hangout tonight?”

“I say no,” you grin, “I have to wake up early tomorrow and so do you,”

“No fun, Y/N,” he whines. 

“Whatever you can miss the bus on your own,” you say as you unlock your car.

He scoots you over to open your car door for you.  

“You’re disgusting,” you laugh, “thanks, though,”

“Of course, get home safely,”

“Mhm, goodnight, Atsumu,” 

He watches as you buckle your seatbelt, giving him a small wave before you switch the gear and pull away.

Atsumu was in deep.

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[jiminy-crickets]

I’m sorry but the whole Connor Bedard having an allergic reaction because his trainer wouldn’t let him have fast food reminds me of when sdpn said that Bedard’s mom said he’s never had fast food before and like she said she knew eventually and it IS good for him to not have fast food, but it makes me think of diet culture and eating disorders. Like the no fast food thing still leaves a variety of food, and I’m sure he’s had pizza before; it’s really the fact that he couldn’t even have pizza ONE time with his team because his trainer wanted him to ‘eat healthy’ for the game (guess what due pizza is healthier than having an allergic reaction). Even if he had been on a crazy strict diet and got sick because his body wasn’t used to what’s in pizza, it’d still be healthier than an allergic reaction (and again, clearly he doesn’t care about Connor’s health just what he can do for the trainer’s image because he let him play the game and did care at all about how bad Connor was feeling.)

Like the obsession with food to the point you can’t eat xyz even once is eating disorder behavior, and I think the fact that players have to eat more than non/athletes and are expected/desire to get bigger is one of the reasons why eating disorders aren’t as common, but imagine how this messes with their heads. Like people who are like “oh my trainer is going to be mad at me for eating xyz one time don’t tell them” is like K-pop idols with management that pushed eating disorders to keep idols’ bodies marketable territory. NHL players are adults and now one should care about their diet to the point that they get mad at them for having one meal that goes against their nutrition plan. They are adults who make their own decisions and nutrition plans should a guideline to help players get what they need not a list of DO NOT EAT THIS foods or specific foods they have to eat.

(Also I think the nhl’s concept of ‘team’ is a little too close to the corporate ‘family’ which is always used to dehumanize employees and get them to give up their free time/health/family/identity for the benefit of the corporations bottom line that is never payed back to the employees. Like yes there’s the team as in the players, but there’s also that concept of team that is the pressure to get players to hurt themselves to win and shut up if they experience discrimination and also to shut up if they disagree with the nhl’s safety protocols that aren’t even follow a lot of the time.)

you said everything wonderfully, the ONLY thing i have to add, is this HEARTBREAKING quote.

"people close to him aren't sure he's ever had a cookie"

in fact that article is chock full of the MOST concerning quotes about a hockey player i have ever fucking read, "highlights include" connor stays long after practice and replies "im working" when people try and get him off the ice, when they think he's over working himself they hide his sticks because he's too superstitious to use someone else's (they have done this... multiple times), he tried to convince the coaching staff to let him play though his broken jaw because chara did so during the finals in 2019, he drank as much food and supplements as he could so he wouldn't lose weight while his jaw was still wired shut.

and yes 10000000000 fucking %, the leagues "we're a family" is NASTY, no!!! NO YOU AREN'T!!!!!! stop trying to be "a family" and start trying to be a GOOD EMPLOYER!!!!!!!

[hughes86-43]

Sweet Treat | J. Hughes

warnings - none, maybe some grammar errors! just fluff!

summary - on the opening day of your coffee shop, everything is going great, but it only gets better when you meet a certain hockey player. part two

Your dream has always been to open your very own coffee shop with a bakery. After years of hard work with getting your business degree, to determining what type of set up you wanted to have, and earning enough money to actually do it, you finally did it! Your dream became a reality as you walk into the shop on opening day, turning on all the lights and getting everything set up before your two new employees showed up to help with what would possibly a busy day, if everything goes right.

You planned for this opening day tremendously with making sure everything was in stock, training the new employees, setting up the register, picking the perfect table and chairs, and now at 9 am on the clock, you turn the sign on the front door to open.

Within a total of three hours of being open, a large amount customers have came in and ordered their coffees and even a sweet treat. They congratulated you on the opening of your shop and told you that they would certainly tell others about the shop, you couldn’t be happier.

Around the four hour mark, business had slowed down a bit to a constant pace, when a young guy walks in. You look up from the register, ready to greet the guy, when all of a sudden you’re stopped in your tracks just by how gorgeous the guy looks. All words have left your mind as soon as you saw him.

As you come back from your day dream, you see that he has reached the counter and now has a confused look on his face as you have not said a word to him yet. With a poke from one of your coworkers, you remember that you need to greet him, you say with blush on your cheeks, “I am so sorry! I must’ve been focused too much on how good sales have been today to have noticed you come up, so sorry!” As you hope you played that off well. “I’ll start over, hello!”

If he had to admit to himself, as soon as he walked through the door, he thought you were pretty cute. That thought was further confirmed as he walked to the counter and when you started nonstop talking about how you were sorry. “Oh, it’s no problem, I wasn’t standing here long! This is the first day of this place being open right? I was walking by the other day when I saw the ‘coming soon’ sign out front, and I just knew I had to come by once it opened, congrats on the opening by the way!”

With your cheeks warming up once again (seriously what is wrong with you, this has never happened before), you say, “Yes, thank you! It is opening day! Business has been booming today and it’s everything I have hoped for! Do you need a minute to look at the menu or do you know what you want?”

“I usually just get a normal coffee if I go somewhere, but I’m feeling adventurous today, do you have any recommendations?”, he says with a shy smile.

“Oh, I have plenty of recommendations! But, I’ll give you my go-to order to try! It’s an iced mocha with breve, or half and half, as the milk, it is so good! Would you like to give it a try?”, you say hopefully he will take the idea.

With a nod, he says, “That’s perfect! I’ll have that and one chocolate muffin.” With that, you ring him up and he pays.

“What’s the name for this order? So I can call it out for you when it’s done of course. We can’t just have people grabbing other people’s coffees, ya know!,” you blabber on and on again.

“Ja-Jack!”, he says stumbling over his words, by how cute you are. “You can put Jack.”

“Okay, great it will be ready right down there.” With that, you get started on his coffee order and get his muffin bagged up.

A few minutes later, Jack is just scrolling on his phone while glancing up every few moments to see you working hard behind the counter. You call out, “Order for Jack!”

Jack makes his way to counter to grab his order, “Thank you!”

“I hope you love it! It’s my favorite drink ever, and I put extra mocha drizzle on it for you!”, You say once again blushing.

“Oh, I definitely will, and I will definitely be coming back!”

“Awesome, have a nice day!”, You say with a smile.

As Jack makes his way to the front door, he realizes he should’ve gotten your number, so he turns back around to go to the counter. You notice so you say, “Oh, did you forget something?” While also hoping he would ask for your number as well.

“I did actually, could I have your number? Ya know, so I can get more recommendations on coffee orders from an expert,” he says with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Hmmm, well I can’t just have you ordering a boring regular coffee now can I? Gotta have some fun in your life! So yes, I’ll give you my number,” You say, while grabbing a sticky note and writing your number on it.

“Awesome! I’ll text you sometime tonight!”, feeling happy with that, Jack says goodbye again and heads to the front door, but he stumbles over the welcome mat. He didn’t manage to spill his drink, but he looks over his shoulder to see if you noticed.

You did notice. While trying to hide a laugh, you meet his eyes, and just give a slight shake of your head. He smiles again and gives a wave walking out the door.

Later that night back at your apartment, you felt so contempt on how well opening day went, and the fact that you met a cute guy in the process, that all you could do was just smile. You felt so happy.

As you snuggled into bed, your phone went off noticing a text message.

the coffee was the best! i may or may not have to come by tomorrow to get another… and say hello to the cute owner once again 😁

sheepishly, you text back

glad you loved it, couldn’t have you walk out with a boring cup of coffee! I’ll be sure to tell the owner that a cute guy is coming in tomorrow to tell say hello 😉

[nofingjustaninchident]

hi, I’m not great at requesting things but if this makes sense could you write a high school au where Jason is a football player. I think it would be cute cause he’s definitely tall enough and strong enough but then add in him being kind and wow he would make the BEST high school football player boyfriend. Thank you

⛧° Jason Grace x Nerdy! Reader hcs °⛧

content: jason grace x reader, college au!

warnings: cursing, allusions to sexual stuff (not much tho), stupidtly fluffy and corny.

a/n: bby if i tell you i dreamt about this, would you believe me? like, i swear to all the gods, i dreamt with this and woke up thinking about writing it… well, here ya go. oh, and i also made her a brazilian, i hope you don’t mind? if you do, just ignore it, please 🫡

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

Of course, he’s a great football player.

Like, i know no shit about football, i’m a soccer girly, but he’s the best quarterback in the city. like, he’s really really good.

And obviously everyone believes he’s such an asshole and a womanizer.

But in reality he’s so so nice

Sure, he sleeps with some girls and all, but not as much as his teammates.

He’s also the only jock that sticks with a girlfriend. Not for long, but still more than the other guys ig

So when he was having trouble with maths, he needed a tutor, cause he had to have a back up plan of he didn’t went for the pros

Such a nice boy, fr.

And he went talk with the teacher to ask who could teach him.

And that’s when he found you.

You weren’t exactly a super nerd. You just liked to study.

But you had a lot of friends, since being the only exchange student did bring this sort of popularity around the university.

And when he first came to you, you were kinda bitchy.

You know, you had a bit of hatred towards football players. No idea why, it was just there.

Even with that, you were too kind-hearted to don’t tutor him.

And when you got to know each other… you kinda started liking him.

On your first study session, the library was too full, so you went to the outside

Which was really working out, till Jason found a little bird that probably fell from his nest

The guy was so worried that he almost took the bird home

He would’ve done it if you didn’t stop him

But he found the nest and put the little bird back there

And you just stood there, like “what the fuck? isn’t he supposed to be a douche?”

It happens that he’s not.

And you became pretty good friends with the frequent study sessions and all.

Not to mention he was pretty offended when you told him you didn’t like football.

And you were very offended when he asked if the spoke Spanish in Brazil.

He knew it didn’t, he just did it to piss you off.

He really wanted you to go to one of his games, but you never said you were really going.

So, one day, when his team was having a match against Harvard University, he was more than surprised to see you at the stands, right in the front.

With his jersey. With his number and name on your back.

He honestly felt he was gonna cry right then and there.

He got so happy he made a touchdown. They won.

And you were there, cheering for him and pretending like you understand anything that was going on there.

When the game ended, he came rushing towards you.

“Congrats, Gra-“ Before you could even finish your sentence, he kissed you.

Oh, and it was heaven.

After this, you started dating and it was the best thing you ever experienced.

He was such a gentleman.

Doors? Don’t even touch that. Dates? He’s paying, duh. You’re tired? He’ll carry you, bridal style.

You get the point.

You started liking football because of him. And he started liking soccer because of you.

a/n: i don’t know what to feel about this lol. idk what you’ll think of the brazilian thing, but if you don’t like it, i’ll remake it, promise!

[haddonfieldwhore]

guilty conscience - matthew tkachuk

flames!matthew tkachuk x draisaitl!fem! reader pt.2

summary: you and matthew continue to sneak around, and leon figures out that something is up

warnings: langauge, mention of violence, implied smut, continuity is questionable because i didn’t plan to write a part two 😅, unrealistic leon behaviour

word count: 3.3k (oops) part one is here

it wasn’t even a month before the oilers and the flames met again, this time at home in edmonton. calgary being in town meant that matthew tkachuk was in town, and you thought back to that first night you had found yourself tangled up with the rival teams player; and all the times after. the two hour drive never stopped him from texting or calling after a tough loss, inviting you over to help him let off some steam. this quickly turned into meeting up to celebrate wins as well, and in the short few weeks since your first meeting, you felt as if you had spent more time in matthews bed than your own.

“are you gonna be at the game tonight?” he asked as he got dressed, staying at your place rather than a hotel; he would be sleeping there anyway.

“yes, but i am obligated to cheer for the oilers as long as my brother is on their team,” you laughed. leon had gotten you tickets for the game like he always did, the two of you having made up only a few days after the incident happened. however the thrill of sneaking around with matthew hadn’t worn off, even though you were no longer doing it to get back at your brother.

“how much would i have to pay you to wear my jersey to the game?” he teased, wrapping his arms around your waist as you pulled your t-shirt over your head.

“more money than your contract,” you replied. “if the crowd didn’t mob me, i think i’d be disowned by my family.”

matthew placed a kiss on your lips with a smile, and you fixed his curls that you had spent the last half hour tangling your fingers through.

“that’s too bad. you’d look hot wearing my number.”

“i wouldn’t look hot in the body bag they’d have to carry me out in. nevermind if leon found out why i was wearing it. you’d be in the back of the hearse with me.”

“as fun as that sounds,” he joked. “i have a game in a few days so-“ you interrupted him with a kiss.

“don’t worry. i’ll secretly be cheering for you,” you smiled. “you’re more fun to hang out with when you win.”

“hey,” he warned with a chuckle. “i gotta go, but i’ll meet you here after the game? we probably shouldn’t leave together…”

“you’re probably right. it’s already suspicious enough that you told the team you were staying with a friend instead of at the hotel with them.”

“is it so hard to believe i might have a friend?” he laughed, putting his shoes on to leave.

“sometimes,” you joked. “good luck,” you smiled as he snuck out of your apartment, shaking your head as you began to get ready to go to the game.

•

despite you wishing him good luck, the game went in favour of the oilers, this time the flames falling to edmonton in a 1-0 loss. at one point calgary had scored a goal to tie the game but it was waved off for interference.

your eyes met matthews on the bench, and you could tell he was frustrated as he slid his mouthguard back over his teeth. after the game ended, you went to meet up with leon backstage, the edmonton player in a significantly better mode than the last time you had seen him. he greeted you with a hug, and you returned it with a smile, but a sinking feeling sprouted in your stomach.

“hey, it’s good to see you,” your brother smiled, and you smiled back.

“you too. good game,” you commented, the words tasting funny in your mouth as you realized you didn’t mean them; and part of you wished calgary had won.

“yeah, a little bit of payback is nice. to bad we couldn’t get a few more goals, but i’ll take it,” he laughed. payback, you thought; that’s what matthew had been.

you weren’t sure that’s all it was anymore.

•

another month went by, the season nearing the midway point now. you scrolled through your phone as you waited for matthew to get out of the shower. you had spent the last few days at his house while the flames played a five game homestand, winning all but one; which meant matty was in a good mood going into the third matchup between the two alberta teams this season tonight. a message popped up on the screen, and you bit your lip as you replied to your brother.

you hated lying to him, and you’d found yourself doing it more and more the closer you and matthew became. you couldn’t exactly tell him that you weren’t even in edmonton at the moment, instead two hours away after spending the week with a man he hated.

a man who you had fallen for; and fallen hard.

the man in question had the nerve to walk out of the bathroom in just a towel around his waist, hung low on his hips as the warm air rushed out of the bathroom and tickled your legs as you sat on the edge of his bed. he walked over and placed a kiss on the top of your head, quickly noticing your expression.

“what’s up?” matt asked, his eyebrows furrowed at the upset look on your face.

“nothing, it’s just leon.”

“did he say something to you?” he asked, his fist clenching slightly at his side.

“no, nothing like that,” you assured him as you looked up to meet his eyes, his gaze softening and his jaw unclenching as he relaxed. “i just hate lying to him about…”

“…us?”

“yeah. it was kind of fun at first, and now i’m just worried what’s gonna happen when he does find out. more so worried about what he’s going to do to you,” you admitted.

“come on, sneaking around is still a little bit fun,” he teased, and you managed to crack a smile. sometimes, you thought. “it’ll be okay, we will figure it out when we get to that point.”

“i don’t want him to kill you,” you said, taking his hand in yours, you fingers playing with his absentmindedly. “which is a real possibility-“ you laughed.

“i’ll be fine. come on, the guys might kill me if im late for the game.”

•

you were only thirty minutes through the two hour drive back to edmonton when your phone rang, leon’s name popping up on the screen. panicking slightly, you answered it, matthew glancing over from behind the wheel as your leg shook anxiously.

“hey, leon.”

“where are you?” he asked, no hello. not good, you thought, trying not to freak out.

“what?” you asked, hoping to find out why he was asking.

“where are you?”

“on my way to the arena,” that at least was true. “why what’s-“

“bullshit, your car is at home.”

“what - you drove by my house? why?”

“because you’ve been hiding something. why are you in calgary?” he asked, and your heart pounded in your chest. your phone location must have been left on by accident.

“i was visiting a friend-“

“without your car?”

“i got a ride - oh my god. you’re my brother not my dad, i don’t need to tell you where i am all the time.”

“why didn’t you tell me you were out of town when i texted you this morning?”

“not that i have to explain myself, leon, but i didn’t feel like typing it all out and i had just woken up.” with each lie you told, you knew you were burying yourself in a hole that was becoming harder and harder to dig out of.

“i’m not sure i believe you.”

“you don’t have to, but it’s the truth.” half true, you thought.

“if you say so.”

“whatever. i’ll see you after the game.” you hung up the phone and ran your hands over your face.

“i’m scared to ask…”

“he knows something is up,” you sighed. “i’m so dead. we’re both dead-“

“hey, just breathe okay?” his hand rested on your thigh reassuringly.

“we just have to be really careful.”

“baby, he’s gonna find out eventually. maybe it would be better if he found out sooner than later,” he suggested. in the short two months you had been with matthew, you weren’t sure exactly when it changed from just hooking up to something more. “unless you want to just stop and pretend this never happened...” he said, his jaw stiffening.

“is that what you want?” your heart beat sped up, but you breathed a soft sigh of relief as he shook his head.

“no, that’s not what i meant at all. as much as you might think i do, i don’t actually want to cause problems between you and your family,” he laughed, and once again you found yourself cracking a smile despite the situation.

“i like you a lot, matthew,” you admitted. “i don’t care what he says to me, he’s my brother and he’ll get over it. i’m just worried what he’ll do to you.”

“don’t worry about me. do you really think he’d be that mad that we’re dating?”

“…are we dating?” you asked for clarification. you’d never really discussed it.

“i mean .. you’ve been at my house for the last week. i kind of thought that made it clear that i want to be with you,” he shrugged with a smile.

“you do?”

“of course i do. did you think i didn’t?”

“i don’t know. maybe,” you laughed, and his hand squeezed your thigh.

“does that mean we’re dating?”

“yes, i guess it does,” you smiled, leaning over to kiss him softly.

•

you cheered internally for calgary as the game went on, sending matthew a smile as your eyes met his. the shared looks between you and the calgary flame didn’t go unnoticed by edmontons number 29, and he had to restrain himself from ramming matthew into the boards whenever they shared the ice. leon noticed how everytime the flames scored, matthew was looking for you in the stands. although you weren’t outwardly celebrating, you were happy the flames were winning. sure, leon would be pissed, but he could get over it.

you felt bad that once again, matthew had taken priority in your life over your brother, but you only wanted them to lose when they played calgary, so you didn’t feel too bad.

the game ended with calgary winning 5 - 2, and you tried not to look too happy as you waited for leon to get out of the dressing room. when he did, he was in a mood again, this time not because of the loss, but because of the way he had caught tkachuk staring at his little sister.

“hey,” you greeted him.

“hey. i’m sorry about how i acted on the phone earlier,” he apologized, greeting you with a hug that surprised you slightly. “you’re right, you don’t have to tell me where you are all the time.”

“thank you. i’m sorry about the game.” his face dropped and he shrugged, his eyes catching sight of a familiar head of curls down the hall. leon’s anger got the best of him, and he marched toward matthew and tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to turn around.

“i don’t know if you’re just trying to piss me off, but quit looking at my sister and focus on the game, yeah?” he warned, and matthew looked slightly confused, his eyes glancing to you as you shook your head behind leon. your brother poked his shoulder to gain his attention back. “don’t look at her.”

“maybe you’re the one who should focus on the game. remember which team won,” matthew laughed, and you could tell this was not going to end well.

“leon, just leave it. are you really gonna pick a fight with someone for looking at me?” you knew they didn’t get along, but this was beyond what you’d expected.

“when he’s a prick like this guy-“

“leon! enough,” you pulled on his arm. “let’s just go home before you do something you regret.”

“i wouldn’t regret it,” he said stepping closer till he was nearly face to face with matthew. you could tell that matt was keeping quiet for your sake, and you appreciated it as you stared in disbelief at your brother. he had never been this overprotective before, and you barely recognized him.

“what the hell has gotten into you? i’m sorry you lost but you don’t get to act like an asshole because of it. you’re making a scene.”

you stepped in between them, pushing leon back from matthew and putting some much needed space between them.

“why are you defending him?”

“why are you acting like this? you’re being ridiculous!

“why is he looking at you like that? why did he spend the whole game watching you?”

“who cares?” you argued, as you felt everything crumbling around you. leon glanced from you to matthew, who stood back and kept his mouth shut for your sake.

“who were you with in calgary?” leon asked, starting to connect the dots in his head.

“leon-“

“who. were. you. with?” he demanded.

“it’s none of your business who i was with!”

leon wasn’t listening anymore, instead staring a hole into matthew, who if looks could kill would be six feet underground.

“it’s not enough to be an jerk on the ice, you have to go and get with my sister just to piss me off?” leon took a step towards the younger man, your hands on his chest doing little to slow him down. matthew opened his mouth to speak, but you did first.

“it wasn’t like that leon,” you defended your boyfriend. “it was my idea.” leon stopped, looking down at you with wide eyes.

“tell me you’re joking right now-“ he spoke calmly, but you knew he was anything but calm, which made it even scarier.

“i’m not,” you said. “i went to him.”

“how long?” his jaw clenched as he stared at you, his eyes filled with hatred; for you or matthew you weren’t so sure anymore.

“it doesn’t matter - it’s not gonna change how much you hate me right now,” you said, hoping that he would just let it go. no such luck.

“how long?” he repeated.

“since november.”

“you’ve been sleeping with my sister for two months?” he yelled at matthew, his raised voice drawing the attention of a few other players from each team as they left their locker rooms. “and you-“ he poked your shoulder harshly. “you’ve been lying to me about it for 2 months? everytime you told me you were busy or had plans - you were with him?” he said, a disgusted look on his face.

“i’m sorry,” you pleaded as tears began to well in your eyes.

“why did you do it? why him?”

“i knew it would piss you off,” you said honestly. “after that game in november you were so rude to me, and i know it was wrong, but i wanted to get back at you somehow. but it’s not about that anymore, leon. i really like him.”

“were you ever going to tell me?”

“yes, i promise. i just knew how you would react-“ he scoffed, interrupting you.

“you mean how i would react to finding out that my little sister got with a guy she knows i don’t like just to make me mad?”

“it sounds really bad when you say it like that,” you looked down at the floor as leon laughed in disbelief.

“it sounds really bad? it is bad!” he snapped. matthew tried to send the few calgary players who had gathered away, assuring them that he was fine and he didn’t need their help. a few edmonton players lingered outside their locker room as well, aware of who you were and wondering what was going on.

“i’m sorry,” you repeated.

“i would expect something like this from him, but you? this is a new low. maybe you two are perfect for eachother.” leon began to walk away, and you called after him.

“please, leon. i know it was wrong, but it’s not up to you who i date.” he stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“you’re right,” he said coldly. “i just think it’s best that you stay away from me for a while.” your heart broke as you realized just how bad you had screwed up. “and get him out of my sight before i decide not to be so nice.”

matthews arms wrapped around your waist from behind as you watched leon walk away with his teammates, and you turned around to bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled, kissing the top of your head as you cried, your arms thrown around his shoulders.

“he’ll get over it eventually,” you sniffled. “thank you for not saying anything to piss him off even more.” he laughed, his chest shaking lightly as he rubbed your back.

“i try to be on my best behaviour,” he teased. the few flames players that had been lingering around came over to check on you and matthew, one of them you recognized as matthew’s friend sam bennett.

“best behaviour my ass,” he joked. “leave it to you to stir up drama with draisaitl.”

“hey,” matthew warned lightly, but you laughed.

“two draisaitl’s actually. leon is my brother.”

“that explains it,” sam said, patting matthew on the shoulder. “good work, genius.”

“it was a mutual agreement to piss him off, for the record.” matthew defended himself.

“well,” sam said, looking in the direction that leon had gone. “looks like it worked.”

matthew punched his shoulder with a laugh, and you felt a smile creep onto your face despite everything.

“you wanna come for drinks with us?” one of the other flames asked, and you looked at matthew for his answer.

“what do you say? you officially switching sides?” he joked, and you shook your head with a laugh.

“what the hell, sure,” you agreed. matthew smiled, kissing you softly as the guys cheered. you followed them hand in hand with matthew as you walked you to his car, a bittersweet feeling in your chest.

leon had reacted about as well as you thought he would, but he hadn’t killed matthew, so that was a plus. you just worried for the next time they played eachother; but that wasn’t for weeks. maybe leon would calm down by then.

the older draisaitl watched from across the parking lot as you laughed with matthew and his friends.

“i know it sucks that she lied to you, but she looks happy,” connor mcdavid offered. leon simply shot him a glare, and he didn’t mention it again as connor got into the car without another word.

he hated that he was right; you did look happy. eventually he would get over it, but it still hurt that you had gone behind his back specifically to get back at him; even if he had kinda deserved it.

you didn’t notice leon watching you as got into the car with matthew, his hand holding yours over the center console as you followed behind sam’s car to the bar.

“i’m suprised he didn’t punch you, so i suppose that could have gone worse,” you laughed half heartedly. “congratulations on the win, by the way.”

“he might just be saving it for the next game,” he laughed. “and thank you. i’m sorry.”

“i knew what i was doing, you don’t have to apologize. and as much as it sucks that my brother hates my guts right now, i still have a pretty cool boyfriend at the end of the day,” you smiled, and matthew brought your joined hands up to his mouth to kiss the your knuckles, his facial hair tickling your skin.

“does that mean you’ll wear my jersey to the next game?” he asked with a goofy smiled.

“don’t push it.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[darkeralmond]

can you do more rutger mcgroarty smut?? your last one was so good

THANK U SO MUCH!! ALSO THANKS FOR THE REQUEST!! I LOVE U

Not So Fake

Rutger Mcgroarty x fem! Reader

synopsis: you and rutger started fake dating to make your exes jealous. when rutger tries to “sell the part” it leads to more in his bedroom

warnings: 18+, smut, hickeys, rough kissing, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, f! receiving, after care

word count: 2k

a/n: THANK U GUYS SO MUCH FOR 300 FOLLOWERS!! I LOVE RUTGER SO MUCH! i’m gonna miss him when he goes to the winnipeg nets tho 😞😞

masterlist | request info

It all started out with a deal to make both your exes jealous. You approached Rutger with the idea a while back at a Christmas party. “I’ll pay you $50 a month to be my fake boyfriend to make my ex-boyfriend jealous,” you confidded.

He cocked his head to the side with his eyebrows furrowed, “$50 for that? Dude, I’ll do that for free. I need to make my ex-girlfriend jealous too.” You were shocked with how open he was to the idea of fake dating you. You couldn’t deny that it caused your heart to skip a beat.

You had been fake-dating Rutger for a month or two now and your plan was working. Your ex started reaching out to you more and more, asking questions about how you met Rutger and why you even started dating him.

Even though it’s what you wanted, the idea of making him jealous slowly dissolved. You liked spending time with Rutger way more than you ever did with your ex, and it seemed like he started focusing on his ex-girlfriend less and less.

Now here you two were at a small hockey gathering with a couple of the other players and their partners. You, Rutger, and Gavin were squeezed together on a pretty small couch. It was obvious that the couch wasn’t meant to fit 3 people. On the other couch sat Ethan, his girlfriend, and another girl who you weren’t familiar with.

Everyone was talking while occasionally taking sips from their cups. You would nod your head and flash smiles, but you couldn’t even concentrate on the conversation they were having.

Due to the limited space on the couch, that meant your thigh and Rutger’s thigh were touching the entire time. The feeling of his warm skin against yours was super distracting.

What made it worse was that Ethan had to put the spotlight on you and Rutger, of course. “So, Rutger,” he said while grinning from ear to ear. “What’re you gonna do with Y/N when you have to go off to the Jets?”

Rutger glanced over at you and smiled. “We’ll do long distance. Then, she can come up and visit or I can go there.” He then looked back at his friends before adding, “Maybe she can move in with me when she’s done with college.” He placed his hand on your inner thigh.

Your cheeks instantly turned bright red at the contact, causing you to stare at him with a bug-eyed expression. He looked back at you then nodded his head to go along with whatever he was doing.

You then snapped back to the conversation and looked at Ethan. “Yeah! That’s pretty much the plan!” you nervously giggled before shooting a glare to Rutger. Luckily, he was the only one who saw the stink eye you gave him.

He just smirked in response and took a sip of his drink. He then went back to the conversation like it this normal, steering the topic away from your “relationship”.

Your mind went fuzzy as the tip of your ears flushed red. Your mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening right now. He didn’t have to put his hand on your thigh, however he was for some reason. And for some reason, it was seriously turning you on.

You slammed his bedroom door shut, turning to him with your finger pointed right at him. “What was that?!” you fumed.

He leaned against the wall next to the door and crossed his arms. “What’re you talking about?” he cooed. He wasn’t taking this seriously. It made your blood boil even more.

“Your hand. My thigh. What was that?!” You needed answers. Not just for why he did it, but for why you enjoyed it so much.

“I was just trying to sell it,” he answered, still leaning against the wall with a sly grin. You rolled your eyes which led him to chuckle. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it. I saw you blushing.”

You scoffed, “I was not blushing!”

“Admit it,” he said, pushing himself off the wall as he started approaching you. You took a couple steps back before your back hit the wall. You looked back and saw the white wall before looking back and seeing him right in front of you.

His face was only inches away from yours, his hand rested on the wall right above your shoulder. “You like me.” Your tongue twisted, not able to get a single word out.

Your face felt like it was on fire, your breaths hitching. “See?” he teased. “Let’s just get rid of this growing tension between us and finally do something about it.”

“Like what?” You managed to ask that question, but everything else was blank. You had a feeling of what he was going to say, but of course he said something way out of left field.

“Like fucking,” he said. “Right here, right now.” When there were people downstairs? It wasn’t like a full blown frat party, people were able to hear you two from his room.

Your expression was haunted as you stuttered, “What if someone hears us?” Which meant you weren’t opposed to the idea. The answer no didn’t even cross your mind.

You glanced over at the lock on his door, seeing that it was still unlocked. His hand loomed under your chin, directing your gaze back to him.

His eyes darted down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Then we’ll just have to be quiet,” he said in a low voice. “Can you do that, sweetheart?”

Your chest rose and fell with your rapid breaths, you nodded your head quickly. “I can,” you answered.

“Good,” he chuckled before leaning in, placing his lips on yours. Your eyes shut at the sudden contact while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

His lips were soft and his breath tasted like beer. He pulled his hand away from beneath your chin and placed them both on your waist, pulling you closer to him desperately.

Before you knew it, he was slipping his tongue into your mouth. You let him do so, your body pressed against him. Your head tilted to the side in order to give him easier access to your lips. A small moan escaped your lips and into his mouth while you two made out.

You pulled away from him, attempting to catch your breath. The atmosphere around you was full of sexual tension and lust. You never realized how much you craved his body up until this moment.

You unravel your arms and place your hand on his chest. You looked down at the nice button up he was wearing, now wanting it off of him. You began undoing the buttons to his shirt while he chuckled.

You finished unbuttoning his shirt and helped him slide it off before throwing it across the room. You pulled off your shirt and tossed it to the same side of the room, now revealing your bralette.

Rutger stared hungrily at you and ran his hands up your back to unclasp your bra. You slipped it off, now completely exposing yourself to him. A smile grew on his face as he brought his hands to your breasts, cupping them.

You let out a gasp as you felt his cold fingers against your warm body. Your moans became louder while he kneaded them with his palms. He pulled one hand away and brought a finger up to his lips, signaling you to be quieter.

He gently kissed your jawline and traveled down to your collarbone while simultaneously massaging your breast. The sensations he gave you started spreading throughout your body. You were melting under his kisses and touch. All you could think was that this felt amazing.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, attempting to hold back any loud moans that were desperate to escape. He pulled his hands away from your body, bringing one of them down to your lower body.

His hand slivered down the hem of your skirt and into your panties. You gasped at the feeling, his mouth still marking your neck with hickeys.

His fingers moved down to your clit, playing with it by circling your sensitive bead. A quiet moan escaped your lips, your head hitting the wall behind you. It felt absolutely incredible that his hand was teasing you.

“Hmmm. Are you wet for me?” He sounded amused. “Such a needy girl.” His fingertips kept torturing your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your teeth sunk deeper into your bottom lip as you tried to ignore the tingling sensation that erupted through your body. He’s teasing, you thought.

You knew this wasn’t enough to make you cum and so did he, because after a few seconds, he stopped messing with your clit and stuck two fingers inside your wet cunt. His fingers curled inside you, feeling the warm wetness around his fingers.

You grabbed onto his hips in order to keep yourself sturdy against the wall. “Rutger,” you whimpered, your nails clawing into his skin. “Just like that!” This was too much stimulation for you but you still wanted more.

He pulled away and pulled his fingers out of you causing you to whine. You were right at your peak and of course he had to torture you more. You pouted your bottom lip, “Why did you stop?”

“I don’t want you to cum yet,” he simply stated. “Now take off your skirt and panties and lay down on the bed, pretty girl.” He took off his shorts, revealing the erection that strained against the fabric of his boxers.

“Please, baby?” His tone was husky, almost begging. You kicked off your shoes before taking off your skirt and panties before laying down on the bed.

He pulled down his boxers and locked the door before making his way over to you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him. He already knew that you were on the pill since you were telling him stories about you and your ex beforehand.

With that, he aligned himself with your dripping wet entrance before slowly entering you. Your back arched as his length pushed through your tight walls.

He slowly rocked his hips back and forth, thrusting into you. You moaned out, “Fuck me. Make me come!” With a nod, he held onto your hips and he thrusted into you harder. You let out a small cry at how good it felt. “Holy, fuck! Rutger!”

“Shhh,” he shushed before letting his thrusts become faster. The struggle you had to stay quiet only fueled his ego and arousal even more.

Goosebumps broke out onto your arms as your mind became clouded. “Rutger, I’m gonna cum!” you cried.

He let out a groan and pulled your hips up slightly, making it easier for him. “You fucking better, Y/N. Do it for me, baby.”

Your orgasm crashed upon you and you threw your head back as your release poured out of your body. Your back arched as you did this, your eyes squeezing shut. Finally, your tense muscles loosened as you fell back onto the breath while breathing heavily.

“Such a good girl,” he mumbled as he pumped into you one last time. He then pulled out of you, his dick completely covered in a mixture of both your and his cum.

He took a couple deep breaths, running his fingers through his hair. “Holy, shit.” He went over to his dresser and grabbed a pair of tissues, wiping the juices off his dick. “You need some?” He handed the tissues to you while he crawled on the bed next to you.

“Yes please,” you answered before you wiped your wet cunt. “That was...” You couldn’t even describe how amazing it felt.

Rutger smiled and got under the blanket with you. “That was perfect,” he said. You threw away the tissues in the trash can near his bed, then got under the covers.

He pulled you close to his body and spooned you. You giggled as he placed a lazy kiss on the side of your neck.

You giggled at the feeling of his wet kiss. “I guess really we’re together now, huh?” you mumbled in a low voice.

He chuckled, “I guess so.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck once again, leaving you smiling happily.

[igglemouse]

Simón stared at the product and wondered about it. He never used. He followed that old rule, don't get high off your old supply, but the thing is, this wasn't his supply. He was just the transportation. He brought the stuff in, he brought the stuff out, and that was it. Didn't pay much but it did pay enough but as he looked at it he wondered if it was time for a promotion. If they were going to drag him back in then why should he remain on the sidelines?

It was something he had to seriously consider. If he had the blessing of the cartel, maybe, just maybe he could pull it off. But without their approval? He'd be dead. You don't run from Los Tigres, at least not for long, so if he were to become a dealer he'd have to be a partner.

Still, as he looked around his cramped rundown and dusty trailer he started to wonder if this was his only move. He didn't have many job prospects but he had a lot of ambition. Maybe this was his opportunity...

Tuesday morning and yep, still doing chores. We're planning to hire a maid soon because honestly otherwise this place would be a little too much for me to handle. I do think it would be a temporary thing. I'm not sure if I want Flora growing up to be spoiled, thinking someone will always do her laundry and clean up after her, but who knows how I'll feel about it once the maid checks in. Maybe they will spoil me. It's hard to imagine myself as one of those pampered player wives but I feel like that's the path I'm going down.

As for Flora I'm taking care of her the best I can which of course includes feeding her right from the source. There are a lot of benefits to it, health wise and I've heard it helps with bonding. Not that we'll need help with that because I feel like I've already completely connected with her! She's growing so fast too, every day I can see her getting just a pinch bigger, or maybe I'm imagining it?

Overall, life feels perfect right now! I know I keep saying this but I really can't imagine that I would be in this spot a year ago. A beautiful baby girl, a beautiful house, and an umm, yeah, a good looking but somewhat goofy boyfriend! I just feel so good that even a plain apple salad gets me excited!

I'm really pouring as much of myself as I can into this new social media thing when I do get free time. I want to feel productive and I know taking care of Flora is being productive but like I've said, I don't want that to be my only thing. I know being a mama means limited free time too but I'll manage. I think my new career is off to a great start as well!

As for Pascal, well, you can probably guess. Yep. Working out and of course without his shirt. If you've got it, flaunt it, is what I always hear.

And I'm trying to get it back with a little more free time given to me or at least enough time to hop on the treadmill. I have my mind set on losing this baby weight and I am also motivated by the fact that Pascal does this every single day so I can do it too!

I did spend most of my day on the treadmill and got a solid workout in. I feel so much better! I can't head to bed though without checking in on Flora who was whiny and wriggly and needy and this time I bottle fed her. I also hang out with her a little, chat with her a little, and let her know I love her more than anything in the world. How could I not? Look at her!

Pascal is out for a road game and that's why I've been here home alone for most of the day. I was going to slip into bed but I remember I have to check my socials before sleeping. Which means just seeing the reaction to my last video and interacting with people here and there and also checking in on Pascal's socials since I'm nosy and he's my guy so I have a right to be a little nosy. That's normal right?

Is it also normal that he's liking this woman's post?

Frida Varela - Next Episode 9.4

[drewsbuzzcut]

I Get Wild On You

college baseball player!drew starkey x fem!reader

a college baseball au blurb (summer series)

📍Florence, Italy

warnings: SMUT

You were glad you were the only ones in the villa, surrounded only by nature. No one has to hear the way you bounce on him, fucking yourself on his cock. The squelching sounds of both of your arousal each time he rutts his hips into yours. He enjoys the way your warm, slick walls cling to him, sucking him back in every time you lift your hips up.

Drew’s leaning back on his elbows, hands resting in between your shoulder blades as your body arches into his. Sweat is starting to line your forehead, causing your hair to stick to your skin. Your movements are slow; the feeling of him gliding along your sweet spot and your clit being stroked by his finger makes your entire body erupt in shocks of bliss, keeping you at that slow pace.

The night had started off innocent. You and Drew decided to go on a nighttime walk, wanting to get a good look at the full moon and the stars sprinkled around the night sky.

Although the sun had long gone down, and the wind was finally alone, there was still a soothing warmth, relaxing the both of you as you walked hand in hand on the cobblestone.

His strong arms wrapped around you, hands resting on your stomach. You let yourselves bask in the quietness while the glow from the moon reflected off of you. This was one of your favorite things to do together; observing a full moon and letting it charge the both of you. To the both of you, the moon was a powerful thing.

“You’re my moon. No, actually you’re my entire world,” Drew whispers in your ear. Your body melts into his at the way his words sound like silk.

You turn in his hold, hands innocently creeping up his shirt to feel his skin. He’s wearing a toothy grin, knowing damn well he’s turning you to mush. His fingers tuck some of your hair behind your ears, making a clear view of your face.

“Your whole world, huh?” You tease, leaning up on your tiptoes to drag the tip of your nose along the side of his neck. His cologne lingers from the day, and you find yourself taking deep breaths of the scent.

“Yes, my whole world,” he affirms, hands planting themselves on the small of your back.

You kiss your way up his neck to his face, paying extra attention to his waiting lips. They slot together like missing pieces of a puzzle. You’ve never felt something so reassuring.

“You’re my stars,” you claim, swaying in his hold, letting your hips lure him into your trap. Your hands rest on his cheeks, keeping his eyes on yours.

“Yeah, well, you make me see stars,” he muses, a smirk taking over his face.

“Hell yeah I do. Especially when I do this,” you slowly kiss along his jawline, feeling his hands clench where the rest. “And this,” you nip his earlobe before lightly sucking it into your mouth, earning a smooth groan from the man. His hands tighten around your hips, pulling you further into his body. Your arms wrap around his neck and you lean up to finally kiss him.

“Fuck, you’re a minx,” he mutters into the kiss that is getting a little too heated for the public eye.

“Take me back to our place, and I’ll show you how much of a minx I can be,” you jest, leaving him with one last kiss before you start simpering off.

Which led you to now. You still your hips in the cradle of his lap. His length is still hitting deep inside you. You can feel your orgasm building, that tingle is starting to infiltrate all your senses. You give yourself a minute or two to edge yourself, not quite wanting that coil to pop yet. Drew has other plans. He grips your hips, basically holding you down while he thrusts up inside you at a ferocious pace. You can feel your orgasm bubbling, about to send the signal for your moans to claw their way out of your throat. You attempt to rest your upper body by setting your hands on Drew’s chest. You lean down for a kiss, trying to drag out this moment, but the moment your lips touch his, his body is falling flat on the mattress with you falling on top of him, lips still locked.

“More, Drew. Faster, harder, please,” you whine and beg, slamming your hips down on his member.

Your first orgasm rings through you, the sizzling heat numbing your body. He doesn’t stop his thrusts. You start to go limp against him, but he isn’t going to stop until he cums in you.

“Fuck, stop squeezing me. You’re going to make me cum,” he groans, head leaning back, open for your lips to claim.

“Cum for me, Drew. C’mon, cowboy, fill me up,” you say in his ear as sultry as possible.

You raise your body again, caressing your boobs just to get him riled up. He watches you with wonder. His eyes are glazed over, sparkling like stars. You don’t even expect to have a second orgasm, but you do and that sends your walls spasming. It triggers his release and the way you milk him makes his length pulse and stay hard.

“Fuck,” you whimper, body falling to the side of his.

Your body jerks at Drew’s unexpected touch when he trails his fingertips over the valleys of your bare body.

He kisses the side of your neck, your shoulder, and then your lips.

“Ti amo,” he whispers it so delicately into your skin, but the phrase is very well present in your heart and mind.

“Ti amo,” you say back, covering the both of you with the cool sheet before cuddling into him.

a/n: Sorry it’s taking me kind along to update this, but I hope y’all enjoy it!

taglist: @maybankslover @91vhs @sp00ky-spr1te @livsters @seris-circle @one-sweet-gubler @a06e @tiacordelia02 @ijustwanttoreadlols @a23starkey @cameronmedia @mutual-mendes @slut4drudy

[biancadjarin]

Being home ec partners with perv!Eddie

18+

pairing: Perv!Em x Cheerleader!Fem!Reader

warnings: nothing too explicit here, use of mommy/daddy nicknames, mention of boner.

a/n: ok so after reading @mamibaddie ‘s perv!bestfriend!eddie hc’s I can’t get playing “mommy and daddy” with Eddie out of my head😔. I’m thinking this will be 2 maybe 3 parts.

Eddie’s leg bounces as Mötley Crüe flows through his headphones. He’s in the last desk in the back of the class. Home Economics. He figured it’d be an easy A and if he wants to graduate this year, he needs all the A’s he can get. Or at least a C.

He hasn’t been paying attention all class period, getting lost in his thick Hellfire notebook, planning the next campaign. He glances up occasionally to steal a look at you, sitting pretty in the second row, long hair thrown over your shoulder, short cheerleader skirt fanned around your waist and hanging off the edge of your seat.

You peek back at him when the teacher gives you free time toward the end of class. He looks so cute, usual scowl on his face as his tongue pokes out of his lips, hand moving quickly as he writes and doodles. You smile as you walk over to him.

You drop into his spread thighs, making yourself comfortable in his lap. His eyebrows furrow until his eyes shoot up and realize it’s you. Your glossy lips mouth something to him and he stares at you in a daze, free hand that isn’t holding his pen settled on your knee.

You push his headphones off his head, Vince Neil’s voice filling the space between you two until he clicks the tape player off. “What?” He croaks out, throat dry all of a sudden. “I said ‘hi daddy!’” you repeat in a sweet sing-song. His jaw drops, not sure he heard you right. You stare at him with wide eyes, expecting him to answer you.

“What?” He repeats, a little laugh escaping his lips this time. His eyes scan down your body, the little keyhole of skin peeking out of the middle of your cheer uniform catching his eye. The space right under your boobs, above your abdomen looks so smooth and soft. He just wants to lick it. And don’t even get him started on the thighs that are draped over his lap right now. He wants to lick every inch of them before splitting them open. “Were you not listening?” you ask him, hands softly cradling his cheeks to draw his attention back upward.

He shakes his head, gooey, warm brownie eyes hooded and soft as he stares at you from this close. You giggle, swatting at his chest. “We got paired up to do the class project together! I’m mommy.” You lean close to his face, poking the end of his nose with your finger, “And you’re daddy. Mrs. Quill is getting everyone’s fake babies right now.” He peers around your body, scanning the classroom and realizing the teacher isn’t there. So that’s why you’re sitting in his lap.

“Oh… ok. So that means you’re going to call me daddy all week?” You nod eagerly. “And I get to-I mean have to call you mommy?” “If you want to.” You say with a smile. The smile that makes Eddie’s head spin. Makes his brain turn to mush. The smile he wants to be the reason for.

“I was thinking maybe you come over tomorrow and we can get started?” You offer, sliding off his lap. Eddie holds your hips at first, hoping you’ll stay but then let’s you go when he sees the teacher walk back in. “I know you have Hellfire tonight and I have a game. So what do ya say?” You ask with a little excited bounce, fingers twisting together like a little kid asking for a present.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Mommy.” Eddie says, smirk on his lips. You clap your hands happily before bending down to give him a hug. “This is going to be so much fun.” You say as you give Eddie a kiss on the cheek. Your lips linger close to his ear, your warm breath making him shudder. “My parents are out of town so we can play house all weekend.” You lean back and smile politely like what you said didn’t just make Eddie’s already hardening cock get painfully erect. You bounce back to your desk, only the lingering smell of your vanilla cookie scented body lotion left in your wake.

You sit at your desk, fake baby already waiting for you. “Eddie look!” You say as you make the baby’s hand waive to him. “He has your eyes!”

PART 2 HERE🍼🩷

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masterlist is currently under construction but you can find it here

🦋

[maochira]

Until the mirror breaks. [Part 3]

[Part 1], [Part 2], [Part 4]

Tags: gn!youngest Itoshi!reader, reader was born shortly before Sae went to Spain, angst. a lot of angst., hurt/comfort, slightly possessive Rin

Even years later, the rivalry between Rin and Sae doesn't stop. It's mostly fueled by Rin. His fixation on you being the next prodigy hasn't stopped either. For that matter, it actually became stronger - or as Sae calls it: it became worse.

If it wasn't for your irrational fear of cameras, Rin would have shown you off to the world already. That fear isn't something you've always had, but rather something that developed as you grew up.

And now, you're 8 years old. Rin can barely process how much you grew up already.

And neither can Sae.

For Sae, it's especially hard to grasp because he barely got to see you in all these years.

There was this longer period of time when he got to see you without Rin being there. That was when Rin was in Blue Lock and Sae stayed in Japan for a while. But even during that time, Sae couldn't manage to develop a proper bond with you. He knows as soon as he leaves again he's going to forget about you most of the time. That knowledge created a barrier that prevents him from forming a real bond with you. What also holds him back is the mess of what's going on between him and Rin. Due to being stuck in such a mess with the brother he grew up with, it's just hard to feel the way he once felt about Rin about you.

Every time he leaves after visiting home, Sae gets hit with the same guilt he felt after his first visit. The guilt makes him feel like he should protect you and prevent Rin from forcing his own dream onto you. But really, Sae has no idea what to do about that. He's attempted to talk to Rin and your parents about it, but was always met with the same answers.

"(Y/N) has the potential to become a great player. We should continue supporting that."

After the end of Blue Lock, Rin became a professional soccer player, but decided to continue living at home so he can support you. He has to travel fairly often, but when he doesn't, he often spends his time with you.

Rin took control over everything regarding soccer in your life. Even your parents don't get a say in that anymore, but they're only fine with it because they don't see how controlling Rin can get.

For the longest time, Rin didn't let you join a team. He thought you were way too good to play with others your age, since he considered their skill way below yours. What he didn't take into consideration was how that made you lack experience regarding playing in a team and against another team. But at the age of 8 that shouldn't be so bad.

Eventually, Rin realized it was time to look for a team for you to join. And of course, you got accepted into his first choice. Being one of the Itoshi siblings means having access to joining any team you'd want to.

Your lack of experience in playing with multiple people showed in the first few weeks of joining your team, but you got the hang of it really quickly. And of course, you're the star of the team. After all, you're an Itoshi.

Even though you now have weekly soccer practices and matches, Rin still makes you practice with him almost every day. But not to an extent where it's overly exhausting or leads to burnout. Rin is so fixated on his dream, he managed to find the perfect balance in everything for you.

And now, your first big match is coming up. Sae just happens to visit home during that time, and he's never gotten to see you play in a match, so he's coming along with Rin and your parents to watch you.

But without his, and even without your knowledge, Rin planned to make so much more out of this. He invited representatives from the Japan Football Union to show off that you're the next prodigy.

This would be your time to shine. This would be the moment all the years of training pay off.

At least that's how Rin thinks it's going to be.

Without Rin't knowledge, the JFU representatives invited a camera team to show the match live on the internet. Knowing an Itoshi sibling will be playing would make a lot of soccer fans watch that.

Rin thought you would be fine, but the cameras triggered your anxiety the moment you saw them. The anxiety prevents you from playing properly and the skill you show is so much below what you're actually capable of.

It disappoints Rin. So much.

It's nothing to blame completely on you, but your team ends up losing the match.

The car ride home afterwards is uncomfortable. Nobody really speaks and you're still anxious because of the cameras. The only somewhat comforting thing is Sae's hand resting on your shoulder.

Being back at home is even more uncomfortable. Rin is still mad at you and doesn't even pay attention to you anymore. At dinner, he acts as if you don't exist.

You're still a child. You don't properly understand why exactly Rin acts this way now. But you feel some sort of guilt. You go to Rin's room with the intention to apologize.

When Rin ignored your knocking, you decide to enter the room anyways. And still, your older brother continues to ignore you. You've never seen him so cold towards you.

It's the exact same way he acts towards Sae all the time.

When you realize the way Rin is currently acting is the same as he acts around Sae, you break down in tears, right in front of Rin.

And he knows he's at fault for making you cry. It frustrates him and makes him even angrier, but instead of comforting you, he lets his anger take over.

"You don't even know how much you embarrassed me today. You were supposed to show how great you are so we can beat Sae one day!"

Rin has never raised his voice when talking to you. His sudden increase in volume makes you flinch.

"I can't stand the sight of you right now." Rin turns away to face the wall. "You let a few cameras take away your entire skill? You let your team lose because of something like this? Seriously?!"

In anger, Rin punches the mirror on his wall. He hits it so hard, it cracks and a few shards fall to the floor.

Rin faces you one last time as he says: "Don't play soccer ever again if you're this weak."

You're still crying. And Rin doesn't care. It's as if the loving and protective brother he's always been has disappeared in one day.

Rin pushes you out of his room and slams the door shut. The sound of that makes Sae look into the hallway, where he sees you in tears.

"Hey, (Y/N), are you okay?" He asks as he slowly walks towards you. "Is Rin still upset? Did he say something mean to you?"

Being aware of the way Rin acts when something doesn't go the way he wants it to, Sae already knows the answers, but he's asking you regardless. Despite the lack of love Sae usually feels towards you, right now his big brother instincts finally manage to take over.

He hates seeing you in tears like this, so he picks you up and takes you to your room, where he sits down with you on your bed.

"I heard a bit of what Rin said to you," Sae admits, "Don't listen to him, okay?" Sae puts his hand on your shoulder and looks into your eyes. "It were the cameras that made you so anxious today, right?"

Sae was never explicitly told about your fear of cameras, but he puzzled the pieces together to figure it out by himself. When you were much younger, your parents would often send photos of you to Sae, so he'd get to see a bit of you. But over the years that slowly stopped. And every time he'd take his phone out around you, you'd hide in fear of him opening the camera.

"I don't like cameras...They scare me" You tell Sae while you wipe away your tears with your sleeve. Sae gives you a tissue to use for that instead.

It takes a bit until your oldest brother figures out what to answer. He wants to be careful with what he says to you right now.

"(Y/N), maybe Rin never told you, but being a professional player means being in front of the camera in basically every match. You can try to get over your fears, or you don't. And if that means you won't become a professional player because you can't or because you don't want to, then that's okay." Sae takes a deep breath and sighs. "Do you even want to be a professional player for yourself? Or is it only because of Rin?"

The last question overwhelms you a lot. It's something you never thought about. Did you ever have the chance to give it only a bit of thought? You're only a kid and you've always been following the path Rin put in front of you. Rin has always been the one guiding you when it came to soccer.

You've never been given a choice to make. Everything you followed were Rin's decisions from what he thought was the best for you. That never did any big damage, since he's always been a loving brother to you. But who could have guessed he reacts like this if you disappoint him only once?

"I-I... I want to quit soccer." You tell Sae between your sobs. "I'm not good enough... I can't do what Rin wants and-"

Sae is visibly shocked by your response and before you get to finish your sentence he interrupts you by grabbing your shoulders and turning you more in his direction to make you face him.

"You don't need to be good enough for Rin. You don't have to beat me to be good enough, okay?" Sae gives your head a soft pat. "Forget about Rin's dream. If he wants to beat me, he can try. But you stay out of it from now on, alright? It's time to figure out what your dream is."

[januaryembrs]

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x reader [10]

Description: Marc finds out the truth about Dove, and pays the mortal price.

Word count: 12.6k

Trigger Warnings: okay so; HEAVY TRIGGER for drug use and overdose/ accidental suicide. guns. blood. gore. abusive relationship. poverty. HEAVY ON THE ANGST PEOPLE. suggestive tones in parts.

authors note: I'm sorry this has taken forever and a day to post, I had planned to upload on valentines day however life got in the way in every way it possibly could and so this got put on hold for few days, I hope that's okay! enjoy!!

main masterlist | series masterlist

“Boys, get down here. Dinner’s going cold.” She called up the stairs, her voice already that of a tired mother. Mathew practically skidded past her bounding down the stairs, god knows that boy knew how to eat, even if the parsnips were stone cold he would still devour them whole, “Where’s Mikey?” She yelled after him, her tattered apron tied around her waist, greasy fingerprints dragged down the whites. 

“In his room,” Joey said, his bulky glasses deep in his new crossword book, “Nine down, a second chance at life?” 

His sister looked up the stairs worried, her natural expression whenever Mikey wasn’t under her constant watch, before she met his gaze, adjusting fake pearls around her neck. 

“Huh?” 

“Second chance at life. Nine letters.” He repeated, scratching the light smattering of facial hair he had only just been able to grow. He felt her fingers deftly begin to fix the tie around his collar, the golden fairy lights wrapped around the bannister illuminating where her red nail polish chipped around the edges. 

“After life?” She guessed, straightening his shirt out for him, fussing like she had always done. He shook his head, wincing as she screeched over his shoulder into the dining room. “MATHEW, PUT THE ROAST POTATOES BACK- THOSE ARE FOR EVERYONE,” She tutted under her breath. Sometimes he forgot she was only seventeen. “Sam, can you get the stuffing out the oven,”

A grunt of agreement from the second boy, before a six foot tall, moody boy shuffled past the open door with bumblebee oven mitts on which took every ounce of attitude out of him. 

“One word,” Joe said, his eyes flicking over to the vinyl player that stuttered on its eighth run through of ‘Fairytale of New York’. 

The tinsel she’d braided into her hair rustled, eyes identical to his own watching his mouth quirk in thought. 

“You’re supposed to be the genius of the family,” She teased, her finger nudging under his chin affectionately before she released him, pecking his forehead as he passed her to go take a seat at the table. She fussed some more over the baubles hanging from the tree on her way to the kitchen, straightening out the few stragglers, her pruning fingertips brushing over the fleece blankets covering the back of the sofa, as if she needed to feel their home to remind her where she was, “How about Migration?” 

“Good, but it ends in T,” He called out to her, watching his eldest brother look up guiltily where he had a dollop of mash on a spoon, his mouth already full.

It seemed their sister caught onto his greed as she sharply smacked him over the back over the head, ripping the spoon from his hand, “Pig,” She spit at him, not that it seemed to phase him too much as his eyes already set on the small beef loin, the fat dripping off the plate tenderly, “I’m going to get Mikey. Resurrect?”

His eyes lit up at the suggestion, scribbling it down in his book. The cinnamon candle burnt strongly in the centre of the table, warm and spicy, just how Christmas should smell. 

It didn’t negate the fact they had all had to go easy on showers for the week, or that the house was freezing at night or that it was obvious all of their “Fancy day” clothes smelled like a charity shop. 

Joseph was only thirteen and already he’d noticed how exhausted his sister seemed every day. He’s stopped thinking about it so much, seeing as she’d always been that way, but the drain on her body was clear as anything nowadays. 

Joey was just a kid, but so was she. 

It wasn’t long before the final two of their little family came traipsing down the stairs, Mikey’s hand tight in his sister’s. At twelve years old, he was still a dot of a boy, scrawny, practically all ribs she would say, and he was a weepy one too. It wasn’t a surprise the kids at school were so cruel, even their own father, when he bothered to drag himself home from the pub or his friends’ sofas, would say the fire had died out a little more with every kid that came out of his ex-wife. His sister was so fierce she could melt the world’s core if she wanted to, Joey was convinced of it. Matt simply was untouchable despite the kids at school taking digs at him just as often as they did Mikey, as if he knew from birth he was getting out of this hell hole, that he was made for better than this. Children could sniff out the ones among them that were struggling like a cadaver dog onto a corpse, and once they latched on they rarely let go. Then was Sammy, and well, one look at him and he spoke for himself. At fifteen he was already broad enough that the kids picking on Mike turned to deadly silence when he was around; grumpy as a mule, cold as their mother, a boy with a bitter face. His sister would rub her thumb over the scowl that marred his brow, trying to flatten the crack where his nose met his forehead, where the anger seemed to settle. She hated seeing them upset; had the unshakable need to fix them. 

Joey was her smart boy, trying to fly under the radar and cause her less anguish than he saw the rest of the boys gave her. He thought sometimes, when she would come home at 2am in her clothes from the club, bruises on her arms, when she would make them both a cup of tea and help him with homework, he thought then that he might even be her favourite. They all vied for her attention, only her and Matthew even remembered their mother, it only made sense that she was the next best thing for her boys. 

But she was more than just a stand in for their mom. She was their everything, even with the fights over who was doing laundry, the yelling between her and Sammy when she would have to pick him up from the station for the nth time that month for petty thievery, even when Matt started wolfing down a rogue handful of carrots that had fallen onto the dinner table and she had all but dragged him by the ear into the kitchen to go get them drinks. 

They revelled in their little bubble, knowing the only thing they’d be given for free in this world was each other. 

And when they had finally sat down for christmas dinner, the smoke from the DIY Christmas crackers tiny Mikey had made lingering with a sulphur bite to their nose; when Sam flashed them all a rare laugh as she read out the terrible jokes hidden inside, the paper hats falling down over their eyes as they laughed, their full tummies hurting, plates polished of every scrap, Matt ofcourse eating the left over yorkshire puddings as if they were crisps. When they’d sat in front of the TV that only had four channels and a hefty video player underneath, Joey fiddled with the only film they ever bothered to watch on Christmas Day. 

The sepia scene met the soft orange of the fire she’d lit for them, every light besides the ones on the tree turned off for their movie. Joey and Mikey sat practically two inches from the screen, a somewhat stale bowl of popcorn passed between them. 

They watched in awed silence as Dorothy ran down the country lane, Toto at her heels, her auburn hair jumping behind her in bunches as she looked over her shoulder. 

Running away, always running away, same as she was every year they watched. 

“She isn’t coming yet, Toto. Did she hurt you?” Judy Gartland fawned over her pet, the gingham dress bunching around her knees. 

Worried, always worried. Always preening. Always fixing.  

And by the time the twister came to rip her away from her family and send her to Oz, the girl who wasn’t Dove just yet was already asleep on Sammy’s shoulder, the grumpy boy knocking his head against hers affectionately, silently, the crunching of popcorn and the slurping of an off brand Cola the only things that cut through the sound of the movie.

Unaware, naive to what was about to happen to her. 

—

Dove and Steven had a glint in their eyes that she was sure would never be wiped off as they walked beside one another, their pinky fingers clasped tightly together. 

He had a dopey look on his face, not even watching where they were going as he stared at her side profile, seeing the warmth meeting her eyes for the first time in a while. Her cheeks were starting to hurt from the smiling, biting her bottom lip like she had a secret. 

She would glance back at him every so often, only to see him already staring, his brown eyes softer than a cup of hot chocolate, swirling with adoration and melting at the sight of her meeting his gaze. 

After the fourth or fifth time, she reached up to brush her nose gently, “Do I have something on my face?” 

He didn’t even answer, he just pulled her in for another kiss, his free hand tugging at the fat of her hips, squeezing gently as he kissed her with a greed she felt high on. 

She held back a whine, the hands on her body kind and loving, overwhelming, invading, saturating her with something so entirely like home she felt her face run hot. 

She giggled into his mouth as he released her, her hands finding the sides of his neck, thumb running over either side of his jaw as she felt him smile under her touch. 

“Steven?” He seemed dazed, eyes never leaving her lips as she said his name again, giddy like his brain had malfunctioned and slowed, “Do I have anything on my face?” 

He mumbled something wordless, shaking his head slightly, looking back at her goofy smile as she waited for a real answer. As if it had only just caught up with him, his brow creased, meeting her eyes with a bit more clarity than before. 

“Huh?” He asked, to which she giggled and kissed him some more. She was sure her heart was pounding out of her ribs, and that he could hear it from how closely he was pressed to her front. 

“You’re staring, I thought I had something on my face,” She said, his nose brushing against hers as he dipped in to kiss the laugh lines of her cheeks, “Do I?” 

Steven shook his head, his gaze fanning over the entirety of her face and landing where he wanted her the most, back to her lips that smiled at him in content. 

“No, just,” He stopped himself from kissing her again, worrying he was smothering her, though some part of him knew she craved the touch as much as he did. She told him as much by the way her fingers intertwined in the root of his hair, pressing into him like a cat purring under his hand, “You make me really happy,”

Her throat bobbed, the smallest of tears springing to her eyes as she kissed him one last time. She wished she could meld her body to his, couldn’t wait for them to have a moment alone when she could take him fully if he would have her again. Truthfully, selfishly, she couldn’t give a damn about Harrow all that much anymore, her entire being hollow the moment she pulled away from him. He’d changed the epicentre of her world the moment she’d heard those three words. 

He loved her. 

She didn’t deserve it, but he loved her. 

Shuffling away from him, not entirely unaware of how his hand was reluctant to drop her waist, how his lips chased hers, how he seemed to pout when she put some distance between them. 

“You make me really happy too, Steven,” She said, her voice mellow and buttery, moving to hold his hand properly, the two of them setting off back to where Layla seemed to be fiddling with something from her backpack.

She knew she would never be good enough for him, that he deserved someone so much better, but it was difficult to hear the horrid thoughts that whirred around the abyss of her head when she heard him softly chuckle, smiling to himself as if he couldn’t believe the words out of her mouth. 

Sometimes it’s not about deserve. That’s what Marc had said. And maybe she could start believing him. Because it was Marc, and Marc knew everything. Marc would know what to say, know how to soothe the feeling of rot that threatened to ruin Steven’s sweet words, his soft kisses. 

Marc would fix it. Marc would understand. She was sure of it. 

–

“We’re going to belay down there,” Layla explained, securing the mountaineering rope to the clasp on her waist, tightening the notch and giving the cable an experimental tug. 

The two of them blanked, looking at one another in their own sets of gear that the woman had them step into with little explanation. 

“I think we should be right on time, Harrow shouldn’t be too far ahead of us-” Dove started, only to be cut off by the older woman with a scoff and an eye roll.

“Belay. It means we’re going to lower ourselves down using our own weight.” Dove’s face fell in embarrassment, smiling sheepishly as Layla shook her head with a hidden chuckle. 

“Right, got it.” She held her hands up, nudging Steven’s when she saw his smile widen, if that had even been possible, “Floor is yours,”

Layla hid her laugh with a cough, taking one confident step off the ledge and down into the tomb, the rope gently dropping her into the darkness. 

Dove and Steven watched with bated breath, the former leaning forwards to ensure she had reached the floor safely. Her eyes squinted, not seeing all too much other than the broken steps that would have once been functional, that were half buried in sand by now. 

“Be careful love,” She felt his fingers loop into her harness, keeping her safe even though they both knew she could survive the fall and much worse. 

She smiled, ready to reply when she saw a flash of Layla’s torch from below, and the woman’s face returned.

“Alright, it’s safe. Come down one at a time,” She instructed, the younger woman sticking a thumbs up at her and moving back into a hard chest where Steven hovered over her. 

“I’ll go first,” She said, reaching for the clip and tightening it to her harness the way Layla had. 

“Wait, shouldn’t I go first? Make sure it’s working properly?” Steven said, though his voice hardly matched the chivalry of his words. She smiled toothily at him, tugging on the rope once to set it in place. 

“Put it this way, honey. I can survive broken legs, but I need every bit of you to function or else I don’t know how I’m going to repay you,” It was new. It was flirty. She had a cheeky twinkle in her eye that reminded him she was able to be girlish and happy and tease him and call him honey and it all felt normal and he wanted more of it by the bucket load. He’d not seen her like this perhaps ever. He fell in love with her even more. He didn’t even think he could.

His mouth moved in an attempt to say something, his face tinging red at the implication of her words. 

“You don’t have to repay me,” He murmured, feeling her fingers loop through his belt, a heat to her gaze that had his skin prickling. 

“I know,” She pecked his lips one more time before they had to be parted even if it was only for a matter of a minute or two, “I just really want to,” She drew back when she heard his breath stutter, his cheeks growing all the more darker in their cherry red shade, and gripped the top of the rope the way she’d seen Layla do. 

“Ok-kay,” The man stammered, his palms sweating, nose tingling with heat. 

“See you in a minute,” She quipped with a deep breath for courage, stepping into the darkness as her body weight tugged against the rope. 

Her feet met the sand faster than expected, stumbling a moment before she steadied herself, fingers quickly undoing the harness that sat around her thighs and waist. 

Taking in the small entrance to the catacomb, she saw Layla crouched over the foot of a statue, her own torch clamped tightly in her grasp. Figuring she was conducting her own search, she chanced a look back up to where Steven’s dopey grin looked down at her, as if cartoonish pink hearts swirled around his head. 

“It’s safe!” She called up, as she fumbled with the latch around her harness, “Just need to get this off-”

The wind was knocked out of her as a body crashed into her own, two startled voices filling the cave, two hands pinning either side of her, landing on her back with a shooting pain through her brow. 

She groaned in unison with the heavy body atop her, feeling where his head had banged against hers. 

“Guess you could say I’m really falling for you,” Steven’s joke melded with a grunt as he pried himself off her, feeling Marc huff in annoyance from inside the head. 

“Huh?” Her voice was muddled, her face scrunched in pain. She barely heard what he said before he had stumbled to his knees, holding his hand out to lift her off the floor. 

“I said- Nothing- Sorry love,” Steven stuttered, his hand pawing at his aching temple, pulling the girl back to her feet, “Guess I just need a bit of practice at that Belay thing,” 

“A bit?” Layla scoffed, though she watched the pair with a hidden smirk, the bumbling mess of limbs as they dusted themselves off and unhooked their gear, “You okay?”

“I’m aces,” He said, turning to where Dove had dirt collecting in her hairline. Reaching a hand up to help her brush it away gently, he was distracted by the huge statue of big cat, most likely a lion, engraved into the stone, “Look at you,” He murmured breathlessly. 

It was her turn to warm under his brazen words, stilling her movements, fingertips rubbing away the traces of sand clinging to her clammy skin. 

She laughed with more shock than anything, though it sounded more like a choke, swallowing heavily as she braved to meet his gaze. 

Her brow furrowed as she flicked a glance over her shoulder at the artwork along the wall, untouched for hundreds of years, the paint lines a thick and dark umber red as if sketched only yesterday. 

Looking back to him, she crossed her fingers he hadn’t seen her flattered expression, knowing better than to be embarrassed around him yet she couldn’t deny those three words spread the heat back through her gut that he had satiated only moments earlier. 

Clicking her torch back on, she threw her attention away from those soft brown eyes, back to the sculpt of the lions, the stone cracking as chalky under their years of solitude, but striking nonetheless. 

“If they just sprang to life right now and asked me a riddle for passage, I’d be thrilled,” Steven said, his voice that of a boy at Christmas, “I’d shit myself, but I’d be thrilled,” 

Giggling behind besotted eyes, Dove moved to head further into the tomb, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw freshly drawn initials in the sand. 

Glancing back to where Layla seemed to shrink in demeanour, she gestured to the markings with her light, “Did you do these?” She asked, curious to her motives. 

“Yeah,” She cleared her throat, averting her eyes to the wall opposite them where vibrant blues and sunflower yellow strokes stared back, “Yeah it’s for my father. He would have loved to be here,”

“Big history buff is he?” Steven asked, the three of them setting off through the tunnel, leading them further into the crypt.

“So much worse,” The El-Faouly woman replied with a smile, falling into step with the duo, “Archeologist with a mission,”

They all breathed a laugh, the air stagnant and musky around them, the smell of a place only the dead seemed to know the past few thousand years. 

“And to him it was a dream worth dying for. And he did,” She went on, Dove’s face falling into solemn sorrow. She knew, if Layla was anything like she was, she would hate the idea of hearing an apology, would hate the idea of someone feeling sorry for her. She had barely been treading water the past day or two, fighting to stay in Layla’s good books, she feared if she were to show any remorse now it would only earn her a slap to the face. 

“Did he dig it?” She asked, her face forlorn and wary as she toed the boundary between their friendship. Casting a glance back at Layla and Steven, she gulped, “So history, you could say he dug it?” 

The light bulb went for both of them, Layla frowning with a defeated grin. 

“That was awful,” She playfully shoved the younger woman, who took it with no bother, smiling back in relief her joke had been taken kindly, “That was the worst-”

“I quite liked it,” Steven inputted helpfully, also earning a bash to the shoulder as Layla laughed. 

“Not a word from the two of you now unless it’s something useful,” She scolded, leading the way through the tightening corridor, the darkness encompassing them in something that felt like comradery. 

“Did you want to hear the one about the dinosaur’s dog-” Dove started, the words echoing around them as they headed further in, only to be stopped again by Layla’s softened voice. 

“Do-you-think-he-saurus rex!”

–

She stared at the house, the one she’d been born in, the light in her room long since switched out. She wouldn’t blame them if they’d taken over her room, it was the biggest one, though that wasn’t saying much. She could see it now, Mathew shotgunning the double bed the moment she left, there was more than enough room for Billie’s small cot next to him. She’d grabbed what she could the day Oz had taken her away, but she wouldn’t bat an eye if they’d sold the clothes she’d left, or even thrown them on the fire to stay warm. 

No, she wouldn’t blame them for erasing all memory of her. She’d been the one to leave, not them. As far as they knew, she’d not made contact whatsoever. Her letters had never been sent, never even left the house. 

She’d not seen home in three years. It was smaller than she remembered. Darker. 

The duffle bag was clutched tightly in her hands, wringing the fabric of the handle between her fingers. The accelerator had been to the floor the entire way here, the blood was still caked thick in her hair, under her nails, stained parts of her skin. 

Frank’s blood. She wondered if the neighbours had called the police yet, if they ever would since he kept them so isolated. Wondered if she was already a suspect in his murder. 

She shook in her shoes at the thought, though that may just be the December night air. 

A figure came storming out of the front door, hands in his pockets, his coat thin and moth eaten. 

Mathew had never been a tall boy, not even at eighteen when she’d last seen him, especially not now at twenty. He was always thin in his face, despite devouring the most out of any of them, his eyes always tired. Though, becoming a dad at such a young age would do that to someone. 

He stopped in front of her, his eyes roving over her with a grand mix of anger and worry. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost, as if he’d seen a dog returning home with its tail between its legs. Which was sort of how she felt. 

“Matty-” She breathed, her exhale clear as day in the freezing night, only he scoffed at the words. He may as well have spat in her, “I don’t have time to explain-”

“What?” He growled, lip sneering in a way that looked too much like their mother, “Where the fuck have you been?” 

She baulked, eyebrows furrowing in a way that she willed herself not to burst into tears. She wanted to head inside, wanted to curl up on the old, ratty sofa they’d had since she was young, wanted to feel Sammy’s head knock against hers affectionately, the only sign the grumpy boy ever gave that said he loved her, despite the fact she knew. She wanted to scold Matty for eating all the bacon out the fridge, help Joey finish his sudoku, wanted, no, needed to see Mikey, see he was okay. Last time she’d been here, she’d found him stashing pills for his friends she knew had a one way ticket to juvie or the streets. 

She’d left for all of them, left to get them a better life. And now she was standing outside her childhood home, drenched in bloodied clothes, her body used, beaten, betrayed. Grace was gone. Frank was dead. 

This was all she had left. Her boys were all she had left. 

“I don’t have time,” She repeated, forcing the duffle bag into his hands, hoping he missed the way the blood collected beneath her nails. She’d scrubbed off what she could before she left, but she knew had it been daylight he’d notice the red ichor immediately, “This is for you,”

“Wha-” Matty looked as if he could swing for her, and she knew she deserved it. She’d left them. Her bottom lip trembled at the very thought. He said her name, only now it seemed dirty, filthy, tainted, like that name had been said by so many awful men she felt as though it was muddied even Matty when he said it, “You leave us to rot for three years, and all of a sudden you just swan in here with presents-”

“Mathew, be quiet,” She barked, hearing his voice grow louder and louder, echoing in the silent street she used to run down to catch her bus, “I have to go,”

He stopped, staring at her teary eyes for a moment, and then laughed. Loud and cruel, and she knew his vitriol was still ongoing, knew she wouldn’t even stop him if he wanted to throw a cruel hand across her face for running away. 

She was such a coward. She was a liar. A murderer. But she was a coward above all of that. 

“Did we stop being good enough for you, huh?” He spat, trying to hand her the bag back, “I don’t want your pity or your little presents, take it-”

“It wasn’t like that,” She pleaded, wrestling with him to keep the bag strap in his grasp,  “Mathew, just take the bag,” 

He shoved her away, but she didn’t relent, her mind set on getting him to take the damn money, the fucking notes that mean nothing to her anymore. There had to be at least thirty grand in there by now, probably more. 

“We needed you, and you weren’t here,” Matt stumbled away from her as she forced the bag into his chest. His voice trembled in a way it hadn’t since he was a boy, since she used to bathe him with that damn toy boat, wash his hair with dish soap, “Social Services know about Mikey and the pills- they want to take Billie away-”

She stopped at that, the two of them looking at each other for the first time since she’d shown up. His eyes were watery, where hers were empty. His sister had always been strong, Matt didn’t think he’d ever seen her cry in all the years of shit she’d trodden through for them. She had always looked exhausted, as if her brain was fired up every moment of the day, as if she could go for a three day nap and it wouldn’t so much as touch her. 

But this was worse. She wasn’t tired. Wasn’t thinking hard. His sister didn’t even look alive. 

Whoever it was staring back at him was not the girl he remembered. Someone could tell him a wraith had crawled into his sister’s skin and dragged her back here with the sole mission of getting him to take the damn bag, and he’d believe them. 

She looked dead. She felt it too.

“Is that-” He stopped himself, a bitter hand reaching up for a mark on her face that glinted under the moonlight, “Blood?” 

She froze, and for a moment neither of them said anything. 

Her breath rattled in her chest, the stickiness of Frank’s blood clinging her clothes to her skin, and he realised once he’d actually taken the sight of her in, that she smelled metallic, that she had a thousand mile stare that had not been there the day she’d left them. 

“Everything I’ve done, I did it for you.” She said after a moment’s reprieve and the anger brewing in his frown wiped immediately, the words soothing his fury into a simmering guilt. 

He tried to say her name again, only to have her cut him off, shoving the back into his arms with finality, her eyes blank, leaving no space for questions, for retaliation. 

“Get Mikey a lawyer. Get him to rehab. Read the letters, or not, I don’t care,” But she did. She cared more than anything. Cared so much she needed to run, now, cared so much she knew every moment she spent talking was more time for him to be incriminated in what she’d done. “I have to go, it’s not safe,” 

He wanted to hug her; he’d never been the affectionate one, she usually saved her cuddles for the younger ones. He wished he’d hugged her now. Wished he’d dragged her back inside, gotten her warm in front of their fire, forced the truth out of her. Anything to tell him what that look on her face had meant. Anything to make her stop seeming so dead it scared him like a child. 

But he didn’t. He couldn’t, not even as she all but sped away in a car he’d never seen before, a limp he’d not noticed through his anger fogged brain as he’d stormed down their front path. 

He barely caught Sammy, filling their entire doorway with his form that had only grown tenfold, if that had even been possible, since his sister left, looking like a kicked dog behind angry eyes that glinted with rare tears. 

“Come on, Sam,” Matty said, brushing past his little brother, though he towered over him for a nineteen year old, heading inside their small house that had felt colder since she’d abandoned them, “We’ll sort it out in the morning,” 

But Sam didn’t. He watched the broken tail lights of the car speed off into the distance, until they were no more than a sound rattling around the silent neighbourhood. Only then did he let himself begin to cry, hoping she came back for them soon. 

–

“It’s a maze,” Layla said, as the three of them traipsed through the tunnels that certainly looked like they had seen better days. Dove startled a bit at the bugs that skittered up the walls as the light hit them, no doubt a little frightened themselves at the rude intrusion from the trio, though she stuck behind Layla. She’d fought demon jackals, men with guns, lived a double life but bugs were what scared her. 

“It’s a-maze-ing,” Steven replied, snickering to himself, which had her giggling too, shaking her head at the man behind her. 

“She means there are six paths, Steven,” D ove clarified, and he hoped the light covered the way his cheeks rouged. 

“Right, yeah, yeah,” He replied, sticking his head down one of the thin alley ways to scope out the labyrinth they’d found themselves in, “Six points,” 

Dove hung back as Layla went towards another one of the pathways, eyes clocking a stone surface planted directly in the middle of the antechamber, the sand laying thick over the top, yet uneven as if the stone wasn’t entirely flat. 

Her brows furrowed, and she traced her finger deeper in the dust, carving out where the ridges grooved into the table. She made an almond shape, an arching line parallelling it, before she realised what the marking was, her brows shooting into her forehead. 

She saw a torch flick over where she worked, felt Steven’s body press against her side as if he’d forgotten what personal space was exactly. 

“You don’t think…” He started, watching how her soft fingertip swirled around into a spiral the two of them had seen a million times walking past the exhibits on the way to the gift shop, “This whole structure is-”

“The Eye of Horus,” She finished, curving around to create the iris. As if proving her point, Steven’s light reflected off the the shiny stone of the table, producing the identical symbol on the ceiling of the room, which had her nudging his hand, pointing to the light, “Look at that,”

“Wow,” He hummed, his eyes flicking between the eye and the wonder on her face as she smiled wryly at the stone, “It’s the royal symbol, protection in the afterlife.”

“I mean the resources needed to build this-” Layla added, looking between all of the corridors that had certainly not been crafted in a day’s work, nor had it been done cheaply, judging by the quality of stone that surrounded them. She stopped, her eyes wild with excitement as she looked at the two of them, “Her final avatar was a pharaoh,”

A breath whooshed from Dove’s lungs, jaw gaping, feeling Steven practically buzzing in his shoes beside her. 

“A bloody pharoah,” He repeated, the joy coating his words like a kid on Christmas. He and Layla chuckled between one another, before their gaze fell on Dove, who stared at the drawing in the sand as if it would outright speak to her.

“So you think it’s a map?” Layla asked, her fawn eyes dropping to the girl who bit her lip unsure. 

She nodded, gaze scanning over the drawing again, as Steven’s rough finger followed where her own hand had traced just moments before. 

“Right. So the eye of Horus is also the Eye of mind, yeah?” He asked, his face now more serious than she’d ever seen him, as he thought harder, “Representing the six senses, six points.” He gestured to each of the corridors that lead away from the chamber they huddled in, “So you’ve got the eyebrow that denotes thoughts. Pupil, sight obviously.” He followed each of his words with his calloused fingers, the same ones that had been down her trousers not so much as a few hours ago. She felt her stomach writhe at the thought, “This point here is, uh, hearing. Smell. Touch. And this long line ending in a spiral is the tongue,” 

She felt her eyes train on his lips as he said it, his gaze falling to her face where she stood besides him, watching every movement on his lips as if she could barely hold herself back from meeting their mouths then and there. 

“The avatar would be Ammit’s voice,” Layla murmured, entirely unaware of the heated thoughts racing through the girl’s mind as she stared at the man, his own expression indiscernible, meeting her eyes with his own chestnut hues, “We should head this way,” 

Layla took off towards the route the tongue pointed them to, the two of them hanging behind for a moment, unable to rip their eyes from one another. 

“What’s that look for?” Steven asked, chuckling nervously as he tried and failed to pull his gaze away from her where she licked her lips slowly. Leaning towards him, her fingers found the front of his jacket as she pulled him closer, kissing him gently, though there was a subtle bite to it that went straight to his trousers as he melted. 

Pulling away, she looked at him with a spritely kind of excitement, as if she loved every moment of looking at him like that. 

“Did I ever tell you how amazing I think you are?” She asked, her face warm with adoration, and the words had his cheeks blazing instantly. 

“You mentioned it once or twice,” He joked, both of them knowing full well the girl was known to give him every compliment she could even before they had been brave enough to admit how they felt for one another. 

She snickered, pulling away from him to follow where Layla had wandered off too, looping a pinky finger in his own to encourage him to follow. Had she not, he was sure he’d be rooted to the floor, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down, or even for his cock to calm enough that he could move without feeling it press against his trousers. 

He cursed himself moments later, when his brain caught up to him, that he hadn’t told her just how amazing he thought she was. 

Yet Steven felt his jeans tighten again when he thought of one other way he could show her just what he felt. 

-

The heavy panting was the only sign either of them were even there as they walked through the narrow corridor, the smallest slither of light meeting them at the end, not unlike when they had trudged into the Great pyramid. That had seemed weeks ago, when in reality it had only been six days, how her life had been flipped upside down all the more since then. 

Her head rattled on her shoulders, thoughts flitting over Layla and her whereabouts as they stepped through the hallway, dust thickening in their lungs with every pant. Her ears were alert to the smallest of movements, her heart pounding in her chest, the image of that thing, the resurrected Heka Priest, replaying in her head, the screech of its rotted vocal chords keeping her arm hairs standing in goose flesh. 

“She’ll be alright, won’t she?” Dove asked solemnly, her brow creased so tight she reminded herself of Sammy, knowing they had always looked the most similar out of all of her brothers. She knew, by the way Steven blanched at the sight of her worry, that she looked as guilty as she felt, “I shouldn’t have left her-”

“We didn’t have much choice, sweetheart,” He sighed, grabbing her hand tightly in his own, stopping in the middle of the darkened chamber to look at her properly. She tugged her lip between her teeth as she averted his gaze, the disappointment in herself shadowing over her chest, “We did everything we could- it’s Layla, she’s done this a thousand times with Marc. She’ll know what to do,” 

Though he was more convincing himself than anything. He wasn’t so sure from the way Marc scoffed inside the headspace that she had in fact not run from undead creatures that threatened to rip her limb from limb a thousand times. Not even once. This was new territory for all of them. 

She didn’t seem convinced as she nodded, her lips quirking as if she was about to say something, only for him to kiss her forehead before she could. 

“I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself if something happened to her,” She confessed, after he drew back, watching her thoughts swimming behind sad eyes, as if he could see the way she bit her tongue to stop herself from calling herself the worst names imaginable. 

He stroked her cheek gently, tilting her chin to meet his gaze, his chocolate gaze warmer than summer and he smiled at her sadly. 

“None of this is your fault,” He said, though she said nothing, chewing her cheek silently, “The faster we get the ushabti, and the faster we can go find Layla. Deal?” 

She nodded again, and he squeezed her hand, pulling her towards the end of the corridor with a small smile. 

Steven Grant was not a brave man, not by any means. But for her, he would be. He thought the same as she had, worried for the El-Faouley woman more and more with every step they took towards the tomb, his own body on high alert for an incoming attack from one of those creatures. 

The end of the hallway drew near, the path widening out to accommodate an entrance, water trickling between the tiles in a silent stream, and he held her hand tighter as they navigated over the stepping stones, her boots slippy over the moss that clung to the rocks. 

It wasn’t until he reached the end, where the corridor opened out, that he let go of her hand in favour of flicking his torch on. His entire body froze at the sight, satiated in awe of the tomb before him. 

She hopped the final stepping stone, hands grabbing onto the wall and his shoulder for support before she followed his gaze to the room, and her jaw dropped too. 

“First ones in, tomb fit for a pharaoh,” Steven hummed, stepping further into the antechamber, and he wasn’t wrong by any means. The walls were all but covered in bright paints that had yet to wash away, the tales of heroic battles and armies surrounding them like one huge mural. Solid gold plates, figurines, vases scattered neatly around the room, each one shiny and polished as if the death bed had never been touched since the day it had been sealed. Four bronze horse statues the size of her watched them enter, carefully avoiding the water that surrounded the sarcophagus in a deep pool, stepping between cracked slabs towards the coffin.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding as she saw the sheer amount of engravings on the sarcophagus, each one proving the power the dead king had held over his people when he’d died. It was more than she’d seen even on one, more than she would ever see. 

This was a wealthy, wealthy pharaoh, she realised, her brows flicking into her hairline

“Thutmose II?” Steven guessed, leading the way to the coffin, the excitement blaringly clear in his voice. He couldn’t so much as catch his breath behind his smile, “Nefertiti. It’s gotta be one of the bigg’uns, Dove,” He said, flicking a grin over his shoulder as her eyes scaled every inch of the tomb. Her jaw hung open, ignoring the dusty task of musk in her mouth, the stagnant smell of water, her eyes pure wonder of what she was seeing. 

This was the stuff of movies, of adventures she read to Joey and Mikey before bed, never did she think she would be part of it, let alone with Steven Grant, a man so quiet he apologised to pigeons, who jumped at his own shadow, who missed his bus every single morning. 

“Must be, I’ve never seen so many offerings,” She replied, willing her feet to hold steady as they stepped between the stones and water carefully. “The engravings, there nothing like I’ve studied before,” 

“Oh wow, look at that,” Steven gawped, taking the final step onto the centrepiece, heading towards the sarcophagus with ravenous eyes, “Look at all these relics,” 

She was hot on his heels, quick to hop over, and expand her search with an eagle eye as she closed in on the sarcophagus. 

“Hold on, Macedonian?” Dove stopped in her tracks, clicking her torch on and nearing the engravings with wide eyes, “It can’t be right-”

“That’s Macedonian,” Steven echoed, kneeling next to her with wary fingertips. He brushed over the markings, a gobsmacked laugh coming from his chest, “Well-b-but the only pharaoh-” 

She grabbed his arm with a clawing strength, head drinking in the facts before her, gently hands following the engravings as if she needed to touch it herself to believe what she knew to be true, “H-He insisted on calling himself Egyptian,” She swallowed, standing on shaky knees to behold the rest of the coffin, her heart hammering. The two of them approached either side of the king’s burial place. “Steven, I think we found the long lost tomb of Alexander the Great,” 

Taking a moment, if not to catch a nervous breath, their eyes met across the top of the sarcophagus, an identical expression of astonishment on their faces. 

She couldn’t help it then; she started laughing. Nervous and yet amazed, she was lost entirely for words. 

“We have to open it, Steven,” She said, her chuckles dying out, a hand flying to her forehead when she realised what a desecration they were about to cause, “The ushabti has to be inside, we have to open it up, oh goodness-”

“Everything inside me is screaming not to touch this thing,” Steven agreed, shaking his nerves out through his hands while watching her also fret over the slight grave robbing they were about to commit. 

“You want Harrow to get to Ammit first?” Marc snapped from the glint in the cursive gold writing across the sarcophagus’ chest. He seemed to have roused from his silent protest and come back swinging, Steven thought with a bitter huff, his hands coming up to the side of the opening. 

“Alright, alright, alright,” He replied, a nervous grip settling on the cold sandstone. His eyes flicked to her again for reassurance, though she herself looked to be coming to a sobering understanding they needed to disgrace the burial sight to get what they wanted. She nodded, her hand drifting to clutch over her mouth in shock, like she needed to stop herself from protesting his actions, and with that he pushed. 

The smell of death invaded her nose, choking her for a moment as the stone slid to reveal the mummified corpse of the man historians had been babbling about for decades. 

This had once been a conqueror, a king, a pharaoh everyone whispered about, a man who’s name was spoken a thousand times a day on the guided tours in the museum.

And they had found him. 

A plated scarab sat across his chest, one she assumed was a sister to the one they had used to find him, the one Harrow took, below it; a huge, solid battle axe with engravings the entire length of its sharp edge. An offering to a man so revered for his wars. 

A shiver trickling down her spine, she looked up at Steven through wide eyes, the two of them entirely stumped for words at what they were discovering, the thousands of years they had just peeled back with one fell swoop. 

“Oh man,” Steven shook his head, barely ripping his eyes away from the mummy for a moment as she moved to stand at the head of the sarcophagus.

“Where’s the ushabti?” Marc spoke again, this time from the fresh golden sheen on the axe, seeing no other offerings or trinkets inside the coffin besides the weapon. 

“Well, if you’re going to hide it for all eternity, you’d probably put it in a place where the average looter wouldn’t think to look,” Steven replied, his heart a hummingbird behind his chest, almost, almost as excited as he had been when he’d been kissing her against that post. 

Almost, but not quite. 

She stayed silent, attuning her ears into keeping watch for Harrow’s men approaching, or hopefully even figuring out where Layla was, while Steven’s brain whirred, conferring with Marc. 

She hoped he wasn’t mad at her for Steven pushing him out of the headspace, for throwing that mirror into the sand the moment he’d gotten his lips on hers. She hoped he would understand. Marc always understood. 

Steven’s face smoothed out in realisation, whether he had come to it on his own or Marc had helped she wasn’t sure, but she grabbed his wrist gently nonetheless. 

“What is it?” She murmured, his eyes trained on the tightly wrapped linen, an almost horrified look on his face. 

“Alexander was the voice of Ammit…” He trailed off, his hand coming to rest on the corpse’s jaw, “All right, I’m gonna try something, I’m gonna do something here.”

His fingers found the lip of the cloth where the head met the body, weaving their way under and tugging them away carefully. 

Dove released a shaky breath, her hand returning in shock over her mouth, knowing that this was technically known as grave desecration, let alone ruining thousands of years of history. 

“Steven, oh my god-” She gagged as the smell hit her, the man beside her writhing in sickness as his fingers touched the mummified skin beneath. 

“Oh god- so sorry- sorry, Mr Great,” He choked on his words, the disgust running over his skin when he touched something cold and wrinkled. 

He tore the bandages with more force, the linen coming away easily, but they both shuddered hearing something crack under the weight of his hand, something she could only imagine was a bone.

Steven pulled the cloth away to reveal a perfectly mummified face, and the sight wasn’t so uncommon as she’d thought since they had two preserved in the museum. But seeing it so up close, without the temperature controlled glass, it made her want to vomit and stare in awe all at the same time. 

Steven took an unsure breath, before he went even further, his fingers resting on the lower mandible, pulling back whatever remained of the lips to slip between his teeth, his other hand holding his cranium still. 

She forced herself not to wince as he started tugging the mouth open; the look on his face was torture for him enough. 

“All right, open up. Oh, sorry, Mr Great,” He bit out, bile rising in his own throat at the sensations beneath his hand, the jaw cracking and ripping down with a nauseating crunch. His hand reached down the gullet, and she had to turn away then when he started rooting around the throat, resisting the retch that fought her own mouth, “Oh, sorry, oh god, I couldn’t be more sorry,” 

It wasn’t until she heard a squelch they both heaved, Steven’s own noises of disgust filling the tomb as his entire upper arm wormed its way into the chest cavity, and she thought he might just be the bravest man she’d ever known. 

His arm twisted for a moment, before he started pulling it out, not without some resistance from the collar bones, only for it to come away with one final tug, and in his hand producing a small ceramic figure of an alligator headed woman, and two audible gasps filled the silence. 

“Steven-” She started, turning to him with something warm and gooey and close to pride in her eyes, “Steven, you did it!” 

She threw herself at him in a hug, ignoring every morsel of her that cringed when she imagined where his hand had been, feeling him squeeze her to him just as tightly.

“We did it, we did- I could never have done any of this without you,” He replied, nosing her hair for a moment before he pulled her away to look at her face, beaming with glee. It didn’t matter then, that he had been chased by that creature, or that he’d been shot at, or that he’d been digging around a dead man’s throat. It didn’t matter then that his life had been turned upside down, or that he was actually one man split into another, or that he’d lost his job. He didn’t care. Because seeing how she looked at him, as if she’d just watched him solve string theory or win a nobel prize, healed every wound he’d ever had. 

He only needed her; only ever wanted her. 

“I really do love you,” She said, and he wondered it she’d heard his thoughts, fought the urge to kiss her then and there. 

Her head snapped to where they had entered the tomb, something wary in her gaze until he saw Layla appear in the doorway, looking entirely scraped up, as if she’d just been dragged through the caverns backwards. 

“Layla!” Dove called, bounding over the stepping stones, “Layla, are you alright- we got the ushabti-”

“Layla, look! We won!” Behind her Steven held up the figurine, the pair of them with billion dollar smiles on their faces, watching the woman approach on shaky legs, “And the ushabti goes to; us. I had to go digging down old Alexander the Great’s gullet, but we found it,” 

Dove giggled at his teasing, shaking her head, and fighting the urge to yank Layla into a hug of her own. They had done it, they’d won. Now they could get out of here and away from Harrow, she could go home, go home with Steven-

She was quick to notice the stare Layla pinned on the man behind her, something visceral and in pain beneath her skin, something raw, a wound ripped open. She knew it well, knew it like an old friend. Layla was the pure image of betrayal. 

She stalked forward silently, not paying the younger woman a scrap of attention as she approached, stepping over the cobbles with not a single hesitant foot. Her eyes gleaned with unshed tears, something rageful keeping them bay. 

Dove stopped still, her eyes trained on the woman, her smile dissolving into confusion. 

“Layla, are you alright-” 

“Can he hear me?” Layla cut her off, not giving a shit for her soft lilted voice or her concern. She only cared about Marc, Harrow’s words rattling in her head like a foghorn calling every shred of anger she’d ever felt for her ex-husband to arms. 

“Alexander? No, I don’t think so, god I hope not,” Steven snickered, and Dove winced. Layla’s eyes darkened, her honey tones near black in the lowlit antechamber, and the younger woman knew whatever had happened in the moments passed since they’d parted, Layla was now out for blood. 

“What happened to my father?” The El-Faouley woman spat, her hands shaking with anger, and Dove could do nothing but wait for Steven to understand that she wasn’t kidding around.

She dared a glance at the man who stood there like a lost child, whatever celebration and relief they had felt swept away in a matter of moments. Seconds. 

She knew from the silence that lingered Layla already suspected something. 

“I’m talking to you,” Layla seethed, stepping towards the man without a bat of an eyelid at the woman who watched whatever progress they’d made swirl down the drain like yesterday’s newspaper. 

“What?” Steven murmured, a frown on his face as Layla’s hands came up to shove him in the chest hard. 

“I’m talking to you, Marc,” 

He barely stumbled, barely blinked, but she saw it. Saw the way the innocence melted away, and his frown became cold and distant. She saw the moment Marc took the body, and her heart dropped at the flash of guilt that glinted in the crook of his eyes as he saw his ex-wife’s expression in the flesh. 

“Come on, let’s go, let’s go-” He tried to pull her away, but Dove knew it was his own brand of avoiding the subject. She’d never hold it against him, who was she to judge someone for running from responsibility, but she knew. And so did Layla. 

“No,” The woman dug her heels in as he tried pulling her to the exit, her empty fist weakly beating on his wrist while he yanked on her coat. 

“We have to go right now,”

“No, Marc, no,” She fought, the venom in her tone only growing. He tugged her harder, the two of them all but grappling with one another for control. 

“We have to go, right now,” He repeated, eyes flicking to where Dove stood still, her hands playing with one another nervously, “Come on, we gotta get out of here-”

Layla forced his head back to her, away from where the younger woman moved between each foot, watching it play out like a tragedy. 

“What happened to my father?” She said again, louder this time, and it was clear no amount of deflection would stop her from getting an answer.

“Listen to me,” Marc said with a seriousness Dove had never heard, real life panic in his tone that had her shifting to check the doorway for signs of Harrow’s men following closely behind, “We need to leave right now, I will explain everything, I swear. But we have to go,”

“Did you kill Abdullah El Faouley?” Layla’s voice cracked, because the answer would break her if it were true, if it was what she feared. 

“Of course not. Of course I didn’t,” And it was the first honest thing Marc had said to her in years. The pain in his eyes at the accusation said it all. 

Layla sighed in short lived relief, running a hand over her face. 

“But you were there,” She said quietly, and the four words cleaved Marc’s resolve right down the middle, his brow furrowing in agony, “You were there, right?” 

“I was- I was there,” He confessed, Dove’s stomach turning over in anguish. She wanted to hug both of them to her in entirely different ways. Wanted to grab Layla, stroke her hair the way Grace used to when she was upset, hold her to her chest and tell her how sorry she was that her father was taken from her so cruelly. She wanted to pull Marc in, slot him right over her heart and tell him he wasn’t bad, not even now, not ever, that he was good, pure, golden goodness, just as good as Steven. That he wasn’t guilty, he was just unlucky. 

“My partner got greedy, he executed everyone at the digsite. Shot me too, I was supposed to die that night,” Marc spilled out, his expression bleak, distraught. 

She knew better than to interrupt, than to get in between the two of them when they fought like this. That is, until her ears pricked up with her inhumane senses, the sound of guns cocking and creeping footsteps dragging through the sand stones they had just come from, whispers between comrades that they were getting close to what they had been searching for. 

“Someone’s here,” She said, before she could think better of speaking. Their heads turned to her, as if they’d forgotten she was there, Marc’s face a picture of a tortured soul. She angled her head to distinguish what the men were saying, try give her some pointers how long they had, “Harrow is getting close, I can hear his watch-”

“Who’s Grace?” Layla asked, her tone guarded, as if she’d begged the question the entire time she’d known the girl, “Marc’s not the only one who’s been keeping secrets,” 

But Dove was frozen. Entirely frozen. Not so much of a breath in her chest, not even a blink.

Because hearing that name again, her name, hearing Layla take everything close to her and toss it around as a conversation piece shattered her into a million small pieces, floating down neatly into the water right then and there.

He saw it.

When her eyes glazed over, as if hearing the name pressed play on a movie she’d not seen in years, and she no longer stood there, with them, but she was transported somewhere else entirely. It was the same as when she’d been in the car, staring out that window, he wanted to yell out to her, grab her delicate face and scream Where do you go? Come back to me, take my hand and come back to me. Where are you where I can’t follow.

Because she wasn’t there, inside her own body. And she feared she would never be again.

She was back in that room, in that window sill, replaying every single night she’d spent in Grace’s room. Who’s Grace? She was opening that door, the one Frank told her not to go in, she was staring at the body, the unmoving one, the cold corpse, frozen in pain, what was once her entire world ripping away from her soul, pulling her apart right down the middle, the empty bottle staring right back at her from the bedside table as if to say ‘I won, I won.’ Who’s Grace? She wasn’t there, wasn’t in the tomb at all, she was rotting in her bed, lying still and waiting for death to take her too, because it seemed impossible that the person who had been made as her mirror image in every way but looks could be culled but not her.

How could she explain who Grace was? How do you even begin to explain to a person what every cell of your body is?

“Harrow said you let her die,” Layla said, and she knew she’d hit a home run with whatever that look on Dove’s face meant, knew that everything he’d said had been true, “He said you could have saved her and you didn’t-”

“Don’t,” It was a snarl, something unearthly and rotten, but the grief in the single word was clear as a bell, “Stop it, Layla,”

She hadn’t ever spoken to her like that, had snapped and rolled her eyes, but never had such a clear threat to her words.

The woman blinked in response, the hairs on her arms standing on end at the voice that was entirely not Dove’s coming from her throat. It was monstrous, and part of her wondered if it was Seth who had in fact taken her body, only to see the eyes she knew well staring back at her with the image of a deer at the barrel of a gun.

Vulnerable. Ready for slaughter. Ready to be laid bare on the butcher's block.

Layla thought twice before she opened her mouth again, second guessing pushing for more answers, but something in the way the girl looked told her there was a truth to it.

“And Frank?” Layla asked, watching Dove’s hands shake. With anger, Layla guessed, anger that her little secrets were being poured out on the cobbles for her precious Steven to see.

Layla was not a cruel woman, not by any means. But she despised liars. And Dove was one of them.

“You and Harrow seem to be best pals, Layla, why don’t you ask him who Frank was,” Dove hissed, and it was like Marc was looking at someone else entirely, like he was watching a mutt backed into a corner snapping at everyone who approached, like watching game gnaw at its own leg to be free of a trap, “He got what he deserved,”

And Marc didn't doubt it. Not even when he reeled back in shock at her tone of voice, not expecting it from his peaceful dove, but then again Layla had ripped all sorts of wounds open in the interest of her own search for answers.

Marc opened his mouth to reinforce their need haste, only to hear for himself the footsteps draw nearer, and the three of them swivelled to look at the direction they came from.

“They’re here,” He said with a pit opening in his stomach, right around where his heart had fallen, springing into action as Layla paced across the stones, searching for a hiding spot.

“There must be another way out,” Dove said, though she felt her brain wrestling with images of that day, that last day, the feel of the mirror beneath her fingers, the scars that to this day marred her palm from the glass as she’d driven it into his chest.

“You find it, I’ll hold them off,” Marc ordered her, backing on himself to grab the battleaxe from inside the sarcophagus. Layla followed orders without protest, heading for the small alleyway she had come from, knowing she couldn’t go back that way with those creatures lurking behind the walls.

Crouching behind a pillar, she watched them with doubtful eyes. She knew they could find her in a matter of seconds. She was beyond angry at both of them for their deceit, yet she watched Dove summon the claws of her suit around her hands, ten blades sprouting over her natural nails in a small motion.

“Get out of here-” Marc waved her off, trying to nudge her body towards where Layla crouched, only for her to gently brush his hands away, careful not to scratch him with her talons.

“Marc, I’m not letting you do this alone- you don’t have a suit-” She argued back, hating the way he was still ready to go down swinging for her, hating the way he’d brushed off what Layla had said because it was Layla and Layla had every reason to throw her under any bus coming.

Her heart plummeted even more, dragging her shame down with it, and she understood then what it was.

He didn’t believe she’d done anything. He didn’t believe something was wrong, something was wrong with her. Didn’t believe she had lied, and kept things from him, didn’t entertain the idea for a single second that she was not the Dove he thought she was.

She knew if he would ask, she wouldn’t have the heart to lie to him to his face, knew she couldn’t keep betraying the undying loyalty he had to her. Knew he would take Steven away.

But she also knew he wouldn’t ask in the first place. Because to Marc, she was innocent of everything everyone accused her of, no matter how true.

She felt even worse than before, if that had even been possible.

She could only steel her face over as Harrow entered the room behind her, the infuriating tap tap tap of his staff against the floor giving him away.

And in a split moment, twenty armed men followed him, crawling out from the corners of the room, their rifles loaded, torches trained on the two of them, the red aimpoints hovering over their chests. She tried to account for every single one of the guns and their wielders, but she couldn’t. There was just too many.

The only way they were getting out of here alive is if he ran, if he ducked out with Layla and left her here to fight alone. But she knew he would never. Not unless she were to throw her body over his, take every single round of ammunition in her suit, keep him protected until they had run dry, but even then she knew he would fight against having her in front of him.

She couldn’t just stand by, couldn’t just let him go, no matter how much she dreaded what was coming next, how much he would hate her once she told him. But maybe he could understand, maybe he would. He had killed people before, she knew he had, he never hid from that. Killed those who deserved it. He hadn’t cared, hadn’t treated her differently when Hellhound had slaughtered those men. She wished she was back in that bathtub, back in their hotel room, the room full of lavender and vanilla, wished his hands were back in her hair telling her she was going to be okay.

She wished. Because that was all she had left.

“Just you two?” Harrow asked, his voice a wisp of smoke in the dark tomb that seemed to be closing in on them as the men steadied their aim, fingers resting on the triggers, “The rest is silence. I remember the first morning, I woke up knowing Khonshu was gone. The quiet was liberating,”

Harrow pocketed the scarab that nestled in his palm, stepping carefully towards them, his damn stick tapping at the floor like death had come knocking.

“And you, little dove,” Harrow turned to her, her eyes a cold glare, twitching with every knock of the wooden cane against the floor, “The truth can be just as liberating as being rid of the voice that controls you. But maybe, you already know that.”

She couldn’t disagree more. There was nothing liberating about what she’d done to Frank. She was a woman haunted, forever tainted by that day. She was ruined, she couldn’t believe she’d ever thought she could be fixed.

“Why don’t you tell him the truth?” Harrow goaded, her insides shrivelling as she saw Marc’s chocolate hues flick to her for a moment, “Ask her, Marc.”

“Marc, I can explain-” She said, eyes locking onto where he clenched a tight fist around his weapon, Harrow's words cutting her off.

“You’re a free man. And ofcourse with that freedom comes choice.” Harrow continued, “You can choose to pretend not to see the guilt writhing under her skin like a serpent. Or, you can choose to keep dear Steven safe,”

“Safe from what?” Marc snapped, his hackles raised at Harrow’s words, as if there was ever a moment of doubt he would choose anything over Steven’s wellbeing, or perhaps it was the way he questioned her that did it.

“Safe from the woman who slaughtered her own boyfriend, maybe?”

Harrow’s tone was soft, gentle, like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb upon the room, a tidal wave of cold overcoming the space between them.

“What?” Marc scoffed, almost a genuine laugh emerging at the levels Harrow was willing to stoop to in order to get the ushabti, including making up ludicrous tales, “What kind of shit is that, you can’t honestly think I’d believe that-”

He looked back to her, expecting confusion, aghast, anything except the deep pools of guilt encompassing her entire being as she stared at him.

He went cold.

No. No, please, no.

He said nothing, did nothing, not even when she tugged a lip between her teeth to keep it from wobbling.

“Please,” She whimpered, stepping towards him with empty hands, “Please, I can explain,”

Only he stepped back, and with it ripped whatever remained of her soul away from.

His eyes no longer were warm nests of mousy brown, his expression no longer soft as he took her in, his jaw tight and feathered with hesitation.

“I can explain, please listen to me,” She begged, she wasn’t above sinking to her knees and pleading against his knee in tears, “I was going to tell you, I tried-”

“You lied to me?” Marc bit, his face empty of whatever it was that he’d regarded her with before. The hands in her hair as she bathed were a million miles away, the kindness that had shone upon her like a warm summer now pelted her like hail in a storm.

“It wasn’t like the others, I had to-” She said, her hands shaking as she dared another step towards him, only for him to take another step back, “I thought you would understand,”

“I killed people because it was service to Khonshu, or-or because people's lives hung in the balance, not because I chose to,” He snapped, drawing his hand away from her like she’d burned him with her very being, “You killed your own boyfriend? You told me you stole- you lied to me,”

“No.” Steven’s voice was a whine, a bleat of agony inside the headspace, a man who was watching the only thing he’d ever had for himself slip away, “No, she wouldn’t Marc, she-”

“Please, just listen,” Her eyes had welled now, “Please, I- Marc, watch out!” She jumped at him, not missing the way his knuckles had quivered on the axe at her sudden movement, only for her to shove past him and descend onto a figure that had been moments away from grabbing the Ushabti.

It was like a switch had flickered then, and the rest of the room was invited into their conversation.

Marc slashed at one of the men who dived for her, snapping his forearm clean in two, the rifle falling from his grasp, and she clawed at the guards wrist, ripping through tendons and flesh like it were fabric.

He heard another of the men squeal as she slashed his face, he cut down another of Harrow’s men with a swift blow to the arm, ichor spurting over his hand at the contact.

He barely even blinked an eye as he threw the battle axe at the next one in his path, though he hadn’t even felt the handle leave his palm as it hit its mark and another one of the men went down.

He knew it made him somewhat of a hypocrite. But it wasn't just the blatant lie that had caused his walls to clamp down around him. That man, whoever he was, had been her boyfriend. And Steven... If he hadn't known something so telling about her, how could he be sure she wouldn't flip and do the same to Steven.

She wouldn't. He wanted to say he knew she wouldn't lay a hand on the man clawing at his brain in torment, but Marc felt he didn't know anything about her anymore.

She had killed someone. His dove, his innocent dove, that he had spent weeks feeling like filth for so much as touching, feeling as though he had ruined her, only to find out she was just as tainted as he was. She had lied to him. She had every chance, every moment he showed his soft underbelly, to tell him the truth, and she hadn’t. He was supposed to keep Steven safe, and he was dropping walls left right and centre for someone who could have had him lined up as her next target.

Dove’s head whirled around when she heard him grunt, fearing he had gotten a barrel to the face, or even a rogue fist. She took a sweeping glance at him from head to toe, the relief tangible in her bones, seeing he was rattled and angry, but not bleeding.

She needed to set this right. She was a liar, she knew that, she was a murderer, she knew that aswell. She didn’t deserve any of the kindness she’d been shown, she’d known she was on borrowed time the entirety of their friendship. She had known this was coming any day now.

It still hurt like a bitch to be confronted with the truth. And the truth was Marc glared at her like hated her. Marc wanted nothing to do with her, as liar, a con, an actress. A whore.

She had to fix this; if she even could. She had to try. For Steven.

Dove had gotten all of one step when Harrow pulled the pistol out of his jeans.

It was like a slow motion picture from there, like she was in the back seat trying to steer the wheel, sitting front row of the audience as the movie played out in front of her.

Harrow lifting the gun at Marc’s chest, pulling the trigger once, his aim true enough that a crimson hole bloomed through the man’s sweater in seconds, spraying out of the wound and onto his outfit.

She heard herself scream, heard his name coming from her in a deafening squeal, something weak and horrified in the tone. She heard the second bang of the bullet leaving its chamber, puncturing in the gut in a second deadly hit, Marc’s body stumbling back as the wound poured faster, harder, his eyes glazed into an entirely empty concoction.

She heard herself call him again, didn’t realise until it choked through a sob that she was crying, inconsolably actually. He swayed for a moment, before the weightlessness took over and he tipped backwards on his heel, and his cold gaze fell to hers for a split moment of reprieve of what she knew was coming.

She didn’t even realise until she had crouched over where he’d fallen into the water that she was sobbing, didn’t realise until the tears started falling on his face that she was crying over him, over every word she was supposed to say to him.

She didn’t realise until the heartbeat she adored so much, the one she’d planned to spend every morning pressed up against, had stopped beating, and Dove was swept up with a feeling she despised.

In all of two seconds, Dove was all alone again, and Marc and Steven were dead.

TAGLISTS.

KNIGHT IN SOHO TAGLIST 

@shirukitsune @s-u-t @ahookedheroespureheart @willowseason @imonmykneessir @acceptedbyace @broadwaytraaaaash @mythicalmo @stevenknightmarc @avery88 @fandombrackets @thelostlovedone @raythecomputerart @nyctophile-moon-child @unknownduck0 @emily-roberts @cheshirecat484 @lockleywife @strangeobsessed d @thebestrouge @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @dumbhxeredrose @badbishsblog @jvexoxo  @sxftie-mari i @mythical-goth @cillmeslowly @wildwallflower24 @ameliashideout @moonsua1 @latenightcravingz @blackqueengold @jesfreedark @uncle-eggy @onefinnedwonder-fm @homuraak3mi @animechick555@1800-get-alife @peachipeachy @hoemadegrace @raineisms

[bee-the-loser]

₊ ⊹☼ THE GIG ☼⊹ ₊ ──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────────────── ₊ ⊹☼ Pairing: Jay x reader ₊ ⊹☼ Synopsis: Reader was invited by their friend to the gig, who just so happens to be the band's stylist, and manages to make eye contact with the electric guitar player. ₊ ⊹☼ Genre: Band au, basement gig, snarky characters ₊ ⊹☼ Word count: 1,023 ₊ ⊹☼ Warnings: None that I can think of ₊ ⊹☼ A/N: This is my first time writing fanfiction and honestly it's not amazing, but I'm here to learn and practice so oh well ╮(︶▽︶)╭ ──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────────────── Maybe it was the constant talk about relationships and the expectation that you were meant to fall in love someday that resulted in the overthinking you were doing right now or maybe it was the constant force feeding of romance that media shoves down everyone’s throats; either way it resulted in those words spewing out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself.

“They’re really hot,” you mentioned, “the one playing the electric guitar on stage. He’s got that effortlessly attractive look about them, like you know they don’t even need to try to achieve it.”

Leaning back against the sidewall you were standing against, you surveyed the crowded basement room that was lit up with red LEDs, almost like a warning sign trying to alert you to change your mind before it was too late. You didn’t pay much attention to them then, but reflecting back now on that night you wish you had taken it as a sign and ran away as you were now too far gone.

You hadn’t lied though and from the looks of the crowd surrounding the old makeshift stage you weren’t the only one who had noticed it as well. Both girls and boys alike were swarming and batting their eyes at each member of the band. Honestly it made you want to puke a little with how love sick everyone seemed. He was attractive though with his bleach blond hair and a simple yet somehow sophisticated look.

Even though he had managed to catch your eye, you definitely weren’t looking for anything, mainly mentioning it to have something in common with the girls you had been talking too. Love had never been your forte, never feeling much in relation to anybody, so sometimes you would lie. You would use pretty words spoken in a sweet tone as a way to weaponize love when moments like these came about. Making the topic into a double edged sword piercing both sides of the conversation equally. Pretending to have crushes on strangers allowed you the safety net that came as a result of never seeing them ever again. You can fake being upset until the girls successfully get off your back and then you’re free from romance and couples until the cycle inevitably has to start again another time. How no-one has noticed at all shocks you but hey, you weren’t going to attract attention to your little scheme for no reason.

The tipsy girls that were keeping you company started to giggle a little more than they would usually though, and that’s when you mentally clocked back into the scene and noticed those eyes on you. Honestly, fate seemed to be a little too cliché at that point as your eyes met. Unlike the stories though, there was no fireworks or tunnel vision, you weren’t the protagonist in some romance novel, where this would be the moment that you noticed one another for the first time. In your opinion, you suited the sidekick character a lot better, being able to provide the witty commentary and call out the others on their bullshit when things started to become too much.

You certainly weren’t here for love like any of the other potential hook ups waiting to happen in the crowd that were swooning up close, instead coming to support your younger friend who had managed to become a stylist for the band somehow. You had plans to hang out together after the night ended and he got the ticket free as a bonus. Niki had always been good at fashion, but you were happy he was finally being taken seriously after some past experiences. You weren’t looking to fight anymore pissed-off strangers who got upset after he commented on their outfits, although it was unlikely those would be the last times even with his new gig.

Finally, guitar boy as you had dubbed him in your head moved his eyes off you, and the set came to a close. While the others moved outside with the swarm, trying to catch the band members when they head out, you stayed put waiting for Niki to come find you.

You were never the most patient person in the world and when 20 minutes later he still hadn’t emerged from the backstage, you were tempted to storm in without a care. Before you could move and potentially get thrown out, guitar boy entered to pack up some of the sound equipment. He noticed you at the same time you did and again the two of you locked eyes.

“Fans were meant to have left 20 minutes ago,” he snarked as he made his way to you.

“Who said anything about being a fan,” you shot back, “I’m waiting for Niki actually.”

“Oh? And how do you know him?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but we grew up together, and we’re meant to have plans to hang out this evening so he better get a move on before I leave his ass here and just go home.”

Somehow the tension seemed to be rising between the two of you, and you hadn’t realised how close you both had gotten until the creak of the stage door alerted the two of you to the situation at hand. He took a sharp step back before anyone could potentially notice and finally, Niki stumbled through with his bags, running up to you in a daze ranting about whatever topic that his hyperactive mind was focusing on right then. “Ahh y/n sorry for the wait, we can go now.” As he almost skipped up towards the exit, he seemed to clock that you weren’t alone and casted a look over his shoulder shouting “Bye Jay, hope you didn’t give them too much of a hard time”.

You grabbed some of his stuff that he dumped for you to take and slowly made your own way up the dimly lit staircase, however, before leaving you turned around one final time to see guitar boy, now known to be Jay, watching you with a somewhat intense gaze and then the doors swung shut behind you.

──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────────────────

[https-harlow]

Single Hearts Part 3- Play Dates That Turn To Real Dates

Summary - Sage and Jack have a play date for their kids, Charlotte and Melody, and during the play date, Jack asks Sage on an actual date.

As much as Jack and Sage wanted Charlotte and Melody’s play date to be that weekend, Sage had already made plans to go to Lexington, Kentucky for the weekend with Charlotte to visit family. Luckily, they were both free the next weekend, and Jack ended up renting out a nearby children’s arcade for a couple of hours.

Jack and Sage pulled into the arcade’s parking lot at the same time, helping their kids out of the car before Charlotte and Melody ran to hug each other. They had recess together at school and ever since they learned about their play date they had been best friends. Jack and Sage followed closely behind their daughters.

“Hey, how are you?” Jack asked as he approached Sage.

“I’m good, how are you?” Sage asked.

“I’m great, Melody has been talking non-stop about this play date,” Jack said and Sage laughed softly.

“So has Charlotte. Are we here early?” Sage asked, since the usually full parking lot was empty.

“No, I uh, I rented out the arcade for a few hours. Since I’m in the music industry, sometimes people recognize me, and I didn’t want you or Charlotte to have to deal with that. Melody and I are used to it, but it can be weird at first.”

“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you. Can I pay you back for half?” Sage asked and Jack immediately shook his head.

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“Daddy, can we go in now?” Melody asked, pulling on Jack’s arm.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Jack said as Melody and Charlotte cheered, running to the door. 

Once they were inside, Jack confirmed their reservation, getting both kids their bands. They let the kids run around, playing whatever games they wanted, as they sat on a nearby bench so they could supervise.

“So, if I remember right, you said you were from Nashville?” Jack asked and Sage nodded.

“Yeah, I grew up there, my parents moved to Lexington when I was 19, and I stayed behind but ended up moving to Lexington shortly after I had Charlotte, then a couple of years later I’m living here now.”

“You know, I can totally hear a slight Tennessee accent when you talk,” Jack said, and Sage laughed.

“That’s so funny that you pointed it out because everyone else says I’ve lost my accent over time.”

“It’s slight, but it’s there.”

“So, you say you’re in the music industry, what exactly do you do?” Sage asked, bringing the topic off of herself.

“Uh, I’m a rapper,” Jack said. He wasn’t planning on telling Sage exactly what he did until she got to know him better. “It’s not a big deal or anything though.”

“That’s so cool, though, what’s the thing you’re most proud of? Or like your biggest achievement?” Sage asked.

“Off of the top of my head? Probably my Grammy nominations.”

“Wait, that’s so exciting and a huge deal Jack. Don’t underestimate yourself like that.”

“I just don’t want to, I don’t know, sometimes it’s hard to meet people when you’re famous.”

“Yeah, I understand that, but you still don’t have to downplay yourself. You’re allowed to brag about your accomplishments.”

Melody and Charlotte came running over to where Jack and Sage were sitting.

“Mommy, come play with us!” Charlotte said, pulling on Sage’s arm.

“Yeah, Daddy, help us with the basketball game,” Melody said. Jack and Sage got up, following their daughters. Once they reached the game the girls wanted to play, Jack picked up Melody so she was tall enough to throw the ball into the hoop.

“Mommy, pick me up too!” Charlotte said and Sage picked her up. As soon as the game started counting down, the girls started throwing the basketballs. They both got one in.

“Mommy and Melody’s daddy’s turn!” Charlotte said.

“You can call me Jack,” Jack told Charlotte, and she nodded.

“Mommy and Jack’s turn,” Charlotte said. 

“Yeah!!” Melody agreed. Jack and Sage set their daughters down. 

“Just so you know, I’m a pretty good basketball player,” Jack said, teasingly.

“I haven’t played basketball since elementary school when we were forced to,” Sage said, both her and Jack laughing.

They started the game, both of their daughters cheering for them to win. Jack purposely missed a couple shots, letting Sage win. Charlotte cheered excitedly, celebrating with Sage, before the girls ran off to play another game.

“You let me win, didn’t you?” Sage asked Jack.

“I couldn’t let you lose in front of your daughter,” Jack said, pushing her shoulder jokingly. Sage leaned against the arcade machine.

“Yeah, or you’re not as good of a basketball player as you claim to be,” She teased.

“Okay, okay, now that’s going too far,” Jack joked.

“I’ll apologize when I see proof otherwise,” Sage joked.

“To be fair, I’m better at soccer, but I’ll prove it to you one day.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“And I’ll be waiting for you to let me take you on a date. A proper date, without the kids.” Jack said, and Sage looked at him confused.

“Aren’t you and Penelope married, or dating, something?” Sage asked, and Jack laughed softly, shaking his head.

“No, we used to be married, but we got divorced about five years ago when Melody was two,” Jack explained.

“Oh, I just assumed since you two seem so, I don’t know the word, you just don’t seem divorced.”

“A lot of people think that at first, but nothing really happened between us, we just both realized we weren’t right for each other, I mean, it was awkward for a little while of course, but we’ve gotten over that now.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“How about tomorrow night? If Charlotte’s dad can’t watch her, or anyone else, since it's so last minute, Penelope offered to watch her, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Yeah, if she’s okay with it, I think that would be best. Her dad’s not involved and all my family is in 

Lexington, I’m sure one of my friends would watch her, but Melody and her seem to be enjoying their time together, so I’m sure they’d love another play date.”

“Her dad isn’t in the picture at all? Sorry, that’s inappropriate of me to ask, forget I even said anything.”

“No, I don’t mind talking about it. Char’s dad and I broke up shortly after I found out I was pregnant, he had cheated on me. He stayed involved for most of my pregnancy, until maybe a month or so before I had her. He chose to not be involved since. I’ve given him several opportunities, I let him know when I was in labor, when she was born, everything, but I can’t force him to be involved. I still give him opportunities to this day to be involved, but he always chooses not to be, so I just don’t tell her about it.”

“I’m so sorry, I can’t even imagine doing that to someone and just living my life like my own child doesn’t exist.”

“I don’t get it either, but I can only do so much, and I guess it’s better that he’s not involved rather than being in and out so she doesn’t know about it.”

“Yeah, and I can already tell you are an amazing mom, neither you nor Charlotte need someone like him anyway.”

Before Sage could respond, Melody and Charlotte ran up to their parents.

“You ask.” Melody said to Charlotte.

“No, you. You’re older.” Charlotte argued and Melody sighed.

“Can we get ice cream?”

“Yeah, we can.” Jack agreed before looking over at you, you pulled out your phone to look at the time.

“Yeah, we have time to get ice cream,” Sage said, and the girls cheered.

“Want to go now? You can keep playing, but we only have about 10 more minutes here.”

“Now!” Both girls said excitedly. Jack and Sage nodded as Charlotte and Melody ran to the door. Jack held the door open for them and as Sage walked out the door, her hand brushed Jack’s, both of their hearts fluttering as they pretended not to notice.

Tag list @jackharloww @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @hoodharlow @itsyagirljaz @heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @awhore4moree @harlowslefttoe @twerkforambrose @jackmans-poison @ilovenudy @taniapri @killatravtramp @easternparkway @macey234 @toocriticalharlow @lightsoutstyles @rachxc13 @iknowdatsrightbih @idktbh101 @blossomluvv @middlechild404 @hufflewhore128 @christinabae