#boy just holding her chin tenderly

[tategaminu]

Aye guys so not only the framing is similar with them in a high place and Callum holding her chin to get her closer just like Rayla did with his scarf, they were in sunset/sunrise in the original animatic as well. I'm so normal right now

[kasagia]

Losing your memory

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: He used to be your Coryo. Now he has become the man you don't know. The Plinth heir. The future president of Panem. You pray every day to forget about the sweet boy you fell in love with, on whom you could always count. To forget who he was and lose the memory of the past. Just like he did. Well... not exactly. Unfortunately for you, he still wants to remember you. Inspired by: "Losing your memory" by Ryan Star Word count: 7,2 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You've been avoiding him ever since you found out he was back in the Capitol.

A month ago, this news would have aroused great joy and ecstasy in you. Your Coryo is back home. He managed to shorten his exile and gain Dr. Gaul's favour again.

But the man who returned from District 12 was not your dear friend or lover. This wasn't your sweet Coryo, with whom you walked hand in hand to school. This wasn't the boy you shared your lunch with. This wasn't a boy who cared about your well-being above his own. This wasn't a boy who joked about snobbish children spoiled by the richest people in Panem with you and Sejanus at the end of the day. (Although he talked with them, trying to keep up good appearances—he used to call that one of the responsibilities of being Snow.)

The man who came back was Coriolanus. The new Plinth heir. The shell of someone you knew. The ruthless, cold pet of the mad creator of the Hunger Games you despised.

Sejanus' death didn't hurt you as much as the transformation of Coriolanus from the person closest to you into someone you barely even recognized. And from the tearful, sad, resentful, and disappointed stories you heard from Tigris, you had an accurate picture of the man who took your Coryo's place.

And you hated him with all your heart.

Especially after what he promised you when you stayed at his apartment for one snowy winter night.

You lay wrapped in the various blankets and quilts Coryo and Tigris could find. It was winter, and they didn't have much money for additional heating, so they mostly walked around the house in several layers and slept under piles of clothes.

You didn't know about that that night.

Tigris lent him her quilt so that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of the poverty his family had fallen into since you were supposed to come to sleepover with him after the argument with your parents.

Cuddling up to your blonde boy, you tried to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat. You frowned at the sound of it being a little faster than usual.

You lift your head and look at him carefully. His gaze is distant and thoughtful as he lazily draws patterns on your back as he presses you against his chest.

"Coryo?" you whisper, cupping his cheek in your hand tenderly and forcing those blue irises you have loved so much to look at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He sighs long and presses a kiss on your forehead, the tip of his nose stroking your hair, as he is inhaling your scent. "I just... I just think about the fact that you deserve so much more. My grandma and Tigirs deserve much more than... this." he says with disgusting pointing at the room you were in.

"This..." you say, clasping your hands together and pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Is more than enough. You are all I need. And one day, when you are President of Panem or any other important figure in the Capitol, none of you will lack anything. This is a temporary state. You are too smart to be anything less than great, Coryo. You know it."

You see him hold back tears. He pushed your head onto his chest to rest his chin on your head. He is not crying. He almost never cries. But you know how close he is to it by the slight quiver in his breathing.

"I know I don't show it often enough... but you mean... everything to me. I can't imagine how I would go through these all without you by my side."

"I love you, Corio. Just promise me you won't forget this. What you went through, what you experienced. Don't forget your struggle. That's something you should never be ashamed of." he tenses at your words but leans in to kiss you passionately and hungrily. Putting all his unexpressed emotions into action and into that kiss that warmed you more than any blanket or radiator could ever.

"I promise. I will never forget how you kept me sane. When you were the only shelter I could go to and the only support that could bear the boundlessness of my troubles and doubts. How you were my only moonlight in the worst of my darknesses." you laugh softly, recognising part of his words.

"Quoting poets will get you nowhere, Coriolanus Snow." you say teasingly, rubbing your nose against him, at which he chuckles, licking his lips.

"Well... I've learned that in some situations, it gets me somewhere. And it's a very cold night tonight, don't you think? I can't let you freeze to death." he says as his hands go under your shirt—actually, his shirt that you stole from his closet.

"Well… I guess there's nothing left for me… but to place myself under your solicitous care." you sigh softly as he pins you underneath him, making sure the cocoon of blankets is still tightly wrapped around the two of you.

"I couldn't have said it better." he whispers and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath countless times. He pulls away just a little to say against your lips, "You're mine. We belong together. No matter what."

He makes you shiver as you eagerly agree to everything he says. You don't realise how, in the future, you will curse every single intimate, sweet moment you shared with him.

Ironically, you realise how deep he has gotten under your skin the moment he returns to the Capitol, and you have to avoid him, not when he is sent into exile.

It was probably because when he was gone, you were too distraught to bother leaving your room, opening the blinds, or wiping the tears that somehow kept leaking from your eyes to notice how almost every place reminded you of him. If you could, you'd go back in time and tell yourself there's no point in crying over the asshole he's become.

Although maybe you already felt that your Corio was leaving, and it was a way of mourning him?

Anyway, you saw him everywhere. Not Coriolanus. Coryo. He stalked you in the library, the park, the cafe near the academy that you two and Sejanus liked to go to, and of course the Academy itself. Kudos to your parents for not letting him into your house. At least he didn't pollute your room with memories of him.

Involuntarily, you wonder if he also sees you, for example, in every corner of his apartment. Or maybe he renovated it beyond recognition to erase all traces of his past?

You didn't know.

And you didn't want to know.

The information about him that Tigris gave you when you met her at your house when Coriolanus was at the university for classes was sufficient.

Just because it didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean you would abandon your only real friend. And just because things didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean she would stop (more or less subtly) encouraging you to go back to him.

"We talked about you." she says, making adjustments to your dress that she made for your birthday party thrown by your parents. Another one of the unpleasant responsibilities.

"You and your grandma?" you ask, trying to avoid HIM as a topic as much as possible.

"No. Me and Coriolanus." she says, pinning something to your waist—some decorative strip of fabric or something—you're not sure; you're too focused on the window and the bustling city as you are trying to ignore her words. "You know… I think… I think I saw in his eyes… the old Coryo. For a brief moment, but… maybe if you came back to him, he would come back to himself too."

"I'm sorry, Tigris, but I think he went too far on his path to simply go back to who he was. Surely not because of me."

"I understand… I just really miss him." she says it in a soft, broken tone, and your heart breaks at it. You hug her with all your strength, uniting with her pain that you also felt so deeply.

"Me too." you whisper in her ear as she cries into your shoulder.

Tigris was a very strong woman. She always impressed you. You wanted to be as strong as her. But even the toughest had to cry sometimes.

After all, there comes a time when even the snow melts... even if only for a little while.

You held him tightly in your arms as Corio cried into your chest.

His grandmother fell ill. Hard. Without a doctor, she definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this on her own, and they didn't have the money to pay for one, let alone the medicines.

Your boyfriend spent the whole day planning, thinking, and getting any money, but it was not enough even to buy the cheapest antibiotic.

However, you didn't expect that after you found out it all from Tigris and ran to him as fast as you could with the chicken soup prepared by your servants and all your pocket money, he would start crying.

Coriolanus Snow cried like a little baby.

You handed the money and soup to Tigris, who, after feeding up their grandma, quickly ran out with her to the doctor. At that time, you were holding your boyfriend in your arms in the other room, who simply fell apart from his helplessness.

"Shh… it's going to be okay, Coryo. She will live, falsify that stupid hymn and hate me for not being enough for you just as she used to." your attempt to comfort him didn't help. If anything, he only cried more, holding onto you tighter and tighter.

"I should be able to take care of them... I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm not worthy of being called Snow."

"Hey, my sweet boy, look at me. You are strong. You are the strongest man I know. You are looking after me all the time; you literally give me everything you have, the last piece of your food, to keep me happy, safe, and full when I forget to bring a damn second breakfast from home or don't have time to eat something. You love me, and I love you, and that's how it works. We care about each other. And I have never, ever regretted being with you. Because what we have… is more valuable than anything else in this world. I trust you implicitly, and I will always be by your side. You are not alone with your problems and suffering. Not as long as I am here."

"But for how long will you stay? For how long will you endure with me?" he asks, and after one look at those a little red from crying, beautiful blue iris, you answer without a shadow of hesitation.

"As long as you love me and I can trust you. As long as I breathe. As long as I am in your mind and heart. I am not going anywhere, Coryo. Money can be earned, but what we have... you can't buy it. What I feel for you is more dear to me than any treasure in this world and I will never exchange it for anything else." you promise, stroking his hair tenderly to help him calm down.

You should've then wondered why he doesn't agree with you then. Why doesn't he say that he also feels this way and that he also values you more than money, glory, and honours?

But he blinds you by telling you for the first time that he loves you.

And you cling to him, wiping the tears from his face with your lips and foolishly believing that your love is pure and eternal.

Like a driven snow.

You knew this day would come someday. The day you let your guard down. But you hoped it would take a little longer before you came face-to-face with Coriolanus.

You are completely unprepared for this. You just freeze like a deer in headlights when you see his face at the end of one of the university's corridors as he walks forward, looking for something in his bag. Before you can even think about running away, he looks up, probably feeling watched, and his blue, icy eyes meet yours.

You both stand there transfixed, looking at each other, taking in the changes in your appearance since the last time you saw each other, which was after you broke up with him, when you saw how tenderly he treated Lucy Gray and how comfortable he was around her. And after someone politely informed you that he had kissed her.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus calls out to you and takes a step towards you, but you quickly step back and run through the crowd of people to get away from him. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up that easily. He never does. "Y/N! Wait!"

You have no intention of doing so. You run as fast as you can, bumping into several students along the way. You don't even bother apologising; you just run, hoping that Snow will stop being hot on your heels. Which, by the way, was a miserable dream after how fit he was after his training and the time he spent as a peacekeeper.

On the way, you notice a woman's bathroom and immediately run into it. You lock yourself in a cabin, thanking God or whoever is up that you managed to get an empty cabin and hide in it. You hear his quick footsteps and the door opening, followed by the screams of other women in the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you hear him obediently leave the room.

You're not leaving, though. You are not stupid. You know he's waiting at the door for you to come out. You decide to wait here until the end of the break between classes and hope that he will drop the idea of continuing to chase you and talk to you, and he will attend the lecture instead.

As the bathroom begins to empty, you realise that the next lectures must be soon. You stand silently on the toilet seat, listening carefully, waiting for the right moment to emerge from your miserable hiding place.

Just as you are about to reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens. You shiver as you hear heavy footsteps echoing off the tiles of the empty bathroom. And you think that you can smell the subtle scent of roses in the air.

"Come on, Y/N. I know you're here. I just want to talk."

Said the snake moments before eating the bird alive.—you think, mentally mocking how gentle he was trying to present himself. As if he could still be your Coryo.

"I have time. I can play hide-and-seek with you, if you want to. After all, you always liked to play this when we were kids. And you always lost."

You roll your eyes, listening carefully to his footsteps. He was opening the first cabin. You were in the middle one—the one a little closer to the door (and him).

"We'll have to talk eventually. You can't avoid me and ignore me, no matter how good you are at it lately. Let's stop this ridiculous, childish behaviour and go talk over coffee and some of your favourite cookies at the cafe near the academy. Just like the good old days. Well, this time all your orders are on me. What do you say?"

You would have snorted if it hadn't immediately revealed your hiding place to him. How dare he invite you to the place where you, he, and Sejanus spent the most time? To the place where your first unofficial date was.

He wanted to manipulate you, to make you believe that your Corio is still there and lives behind the façade of the rich, arrogant asshole he has become. But you knew better. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Even without Tigris' help, you realised that he... was a completely different person. He turned into somebody you only used to know in the past.

"Seriously? Still nothing? So you prefer the hard way, then..." he says, opening another cabin. You wait patiently for him to come to yours.

You breathe as quietly as you can, trying not to let him know which cabin you're in. You listen to his slow, measured steps as, with the incredible confidence and calm that is typical of him, he opens each cabin door, moving inexorably towards you.

Your heart quickens, beating madly, when you see his shoes in the whole, under the cabin's door. He reaches for the door handle, and before he can open it, you push the door against him with all your strength.

You hear him curse, taking a few steps back in a daze and holding his nose. You take the opportunity and run to the exit of the bathroom as fast as you can, not looking back.

"Fuck! Y/N! Are you insane?!" he shouts, running after you.

You reach the door just in time and slam it behind you, sprinting out of the university. You get in your car and drive away with your tyres screeching. In the rearview mirror, you see him leaving the building and following your car with a furious glare.

"I can't believe you invited Snow." you huff, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your father is buttoning his cuffs, and your mother stands next to you, also putting the finishing touches on her appearance. "You hated him when we were together."

"He is an ambitious and clever boy. Plinth did well to make him his heir. You should reconsider whether he really is that bad. This match would have opened many doors for us. Not only among Plinth's allies but also among Dr. Gaul. God knows how she favours this boy. Who knows? Maybe one day he will be president of Panem."

"If so, I will run away abroad." you say it bitterly, putting your lipstick back in your purse and adjusting the necklace around your neck to make yourself look perfect.

"Don't be stupid. Snow wouldn't be so bad for you. Since you are our only child, we must marry you well. Make sure your husband doesn't blow our fortune in a week. And Snow is a thoughtful boy. He wouldn't let you live below the poverty line."

"And he's quite handsome." your mother adds, straightening your father's tie. "Still, he's not a womaniser. I heard he turned down the... special attention of Crane's daughter and a few other Capitol's girls. I guess he's been alone since your breakup."

"Hmm. Great. He wouldn't cheat on me with other snobs in the capital, but he would fuck with whores in the district. The perfect candidate for a husband." you scoff, walking with them to the next room, where the photographers were waiting to take a photo of you together.

“Language, Y/N. You are a lady. Besides, it is not certain whether he and this Lucy Gray actually had something between them. After all, she's a woman from the district.” your mom says this, smiling for the cameras.

The flashes blind you a little, but with your father's and mother's hands on your shoulders, you somehow manage to keep your pose, fake, pretty smile, and opened eyes.

Your father thanks them and leads you out of the room and into the corridor leading to the great hall where the ball was to be held.

"And even if he did, it's good that he had some fun. It will make him appreciate the treasure that you are and see that you are irreplaceable." he says, taking the box out of his pocket. He hands it to you with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, my treasure."

"We've already given her..." your father shushes your mother. You send them a confused look as you open the medium-sized box.

You find a tiara there. A small diamond tiara.

"It will match your dress perfectly." your father says proudly. You nod and walk to the mirror to put it on, despising the object in your hands with all your heart. You may look like a princess, but you've never felt so... disgusted with yourself before.

This feeling intensified even more when, after a toast and receiving wishes from several of your friends and more powerful families, you managed to sneak out to the balcony. Not long after you, all the single, young men of the richest family on the Capitol entered, with Coriolanus among them. They each took a cigarette and started smoking, gossiping about the events of the week…

And their topic of conversation was exactly what you were afraid of when you got that fucking tiara.

"Have you seen this? I bet they're pure diamonds. Old Y/L/N wants to marry her off so much that he's using every trick possible."

"He doesn't need to do much. She is beautiful in her own right. But this character… it's easier to train a dog than such a stubborn cow."

"What Snow? Are you now regretting that the Capitol's Diamond slipped from your hands? I heard she wants nothing to do with you. How unfortunate that it happened at the moment when you started to count in the eyes of the elite, and now you really have any chance of grabbing this precious gem for yourself."

The Capitol's Diamond. You shudder, thinking about the nickname you've been given.

That's what they called you. The sole heiress to your parents' fortune. Diamond of the Capitol, the best match in the city, with a dowry greater than any other woman. Anyone who won your hand was guaranteed to reach the top and success with your family's connections, your charm, beauty, and brain. And these vultures knew it perfectly well.

You were curious how the new Coriolanus would react.

Your Coryo only took advantage of your position in society when he had to. He didn't ask you for money or for you to convince your father to whisper a good word about him here and there. Maybe it was because of his pride; maybe he really didn't care. You have no idea. But Coryo despised that term as much as you did. You wondered if that had changed as well.

"I'm still in the game." he replies evasively, sipping his drink. The others laugh and he frowns in displeasure.

"Sure. Because the way she ran away from you today when you approached her with a gift says exactly that." they mock him. You see him clench his jaw, glaring at them coldly as he considers his next move.

"Enjoy it while you can. Your good mood will end when our cat-and-mouse game is over and the Capitol's Diamond hangs proudly on my shoulder." you huff, shaking your head in disbelief. You come out of hiding, and all the men on the balcony tense up and look at you in surprise.

Especially Coriolanus. Suddenly everyone is staring intently at the garden of your estate, too shy to look at you. Except Snow. He drills a hole into you with his gaze as he thinks of a way to undo what he said.

"Gentlemen." you scoff, walking past them and ignoring Coriolanus' glare. "For your information, I would rather live in one of the districts than marry any of you. Enjoy the party." you add sweetly, walking back to the ballroom.

The party is in full swing. You are talking to Thomas, using a sweet boy in a shameful way—to scare other men away from you. Just as you expected, they started flocking to you like flies to a fire.

So you chose the least spoiled of them. Thomas was nice and funny; you had a good time talking to him, and dancing with him was even better.

He wasn't rich; he wasn't part of the cream of society. You were really starting to enjoy spending time with him. And most importantly... he looked nothing like Coriolanus. He was nice for the eyes, but his dark hair, eyes, and sweet, shy personality made him drastically different from your ex. So he was the perfect break from your dramatic love life. Boring, nice change.

You danced to a waltz with him. He held you gently, close but respectful, not invading your personal space. He was a perfect gentleman. The man of your dreams.

If only Coriolanus' icy eyes weren't focused on both of you like a predator waiting for its prey to stumble, you would be able to enjoy Thomas' company to the fullest.

You are with him at the buffet, sipping drinks, when suddenly the last person you expected to meet here approaches you.

"Mrs. Plinth." you whisper in shock as he stands in front of you.

She looks—probably the way she feels. Nice on the outside and devastated on the inside. The dark circles under her eyes cannot be fully covered by makeup, and the deep black of her dress is a clear reminder of what she is still going through.

You can't imagine the pain he's going through right now. And you wonder why the woman decided to join her husband for your birthday party. Since Sejanus' death, she has rarely left their apartment.

"Y/N. Can I steal you from this young man for a moment?"

"Of course." you say, not even looking in Thomas' direction as you and Mrs. Plinth walk to one of the empty living rooms in your mansion. You close the door behind her and point to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or to eat?"

"No. There is no need, darling. I just… I just came here to give you something." she says, pulling a thick letter out of her purse. "I… the letters from Sejanus are still reaching us. The flow of information between the districts and the Capitol is… very heavy and long. Especially when the peacekeepers are now checking every one of his correspondence. He sent it to you. Or rather, he wanted you to send it to him. Or rather, he wanted you to have it, just in case he couldn't… I'm sorry."

Your heart aches with sadness, seeing her on the verge of tears. She probably has no one to talk to about her son except her husband. After all, Sejanus was a traitor of Panem…

"He was a wonderful friend. The best one somebody could have. I could always count on him. Thank you for... taking the trouble to give me a letter from him. That... means a lot." you say, fighting the urge to hug the woman. The Capitol is not famous for acts of tenderness, mercy, or compassion. You had to keep up a facade. Always.

You take the letter from her and walk her to the exit. You give her one sympathetic look—everything you could afford in your position—and close the door behind her.

You sit on the couch and open the letter with trembling hands, trying not to look too closely at the way he wrote your name on the envelope. You know that will remind you of how you taught him how to decorate letters in his first days at the Capitol. Because everything here had to be perfectly beautiful. Even the fucking handwriting.

A bracelet falls out of the envelope and onto your lap. It is not particularly beautiful or sumptuous. It is a simple strap holding a peg-shaped pendant with some black, crushed stone placed behind a piece of glass.

You place it on the coffee table and open the letter with trembling hands. You already feel that after all this you will have to fix your makeup, which you will probably ruin with tears, but Sej's letter cannot wait until the end of the party.

Y/N, If you are somehow reading this letter, it means that I am not at your 20th birthday party, which makes me very sad. (You know how I love celebrating in your garden away from these Capitol's snobs.) Coming back, you know that I wish you all the best (along with Coryo. He's too big of a stick up his ass to write to you, even though he misses you and can't stop thinking about you. Take pity on me and write to this stubborn idiot, because I don't think I can stand another tirade about you and your perfection. Seriously. Our boy is getting mad because of this despair. I don't recognise him at all.) So, my dear friend, I wish you the best. I don't have any trinkets, interesting books, sweets, or anything suitable as a gift here, so I hope you'll be satisfied with what I came up with. I am not a poet, so don't laugh at me. I shall hear... or not. I made the bracelet, which you've probably already seen, myself. And that stone that is inside (and I hope it survived) is coal. I wanted to give this to you as a symbol of who you are to me. Everyone sees you as a diamond, something precious and beautiful. But for me and probably other people close to you, you are something more. This shiny diamond facade hides carbon. A simple coal, an ordinary soul like many others. But you made something more out of that ordinary coal. You are a diamond. Indestructible, the most durable of all. The purest form, preserved among the other gems and stones of the Capitol, because that's what all these power-hungry assholes are—coals that have decided not to change, to choose what is easy for them. I hope now you can see why I liked that nickname for you, diamond. So I hope you always stay true to yourself. No matter what. That's what I learned here, and I want to pass it on to you. Although I hope that by then the three of us will meet again in the Capitol. Do not wait for us both, Sejanus P.S. I miss you too.

You fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. You wipe away the tears that remain on your cheeks with your hands and take a few ragged breaths, trying to calm down.

You freeze when suddenly someone's arms wrap around you. The scent of roses hits your nostrils.

You get up from the couch like you've been burned and push Coriolanus' arms away from you. The feeling of sadness quickly turns to anger and pure fury as you stare at Snow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you growl through a clenched jaw, extremely glad that there's a couch between you, or you'd hit him. And it was easier for you to explain your tears and smeared makeup than your red knuckles.

"Sweet, kind Plinth, giving you thoughtful gifts from beyond the grave. You love the dead Sejanus so much and ignore the living me. It must be hypocrisy on your part, don't you think? You accuse me of forgetting about Sejanus when you treat me so shamefully, worse than a dog. Should I die so that you can finally stop giving me the silent treatment and running away from me?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what I have to say to you." you huff, taking the bracelet and the letter. You hide them in the bodice of your dress and go to the mirror to fix your smudged makeup.

"You do not have to do that. Your boy isn't at the party anymore anyway." he says, standing so that you can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What?" you ask in surprise, turning to face him. You both stare at each other. In fact, you're only now getting a chance to take a good look at him. And you notice with dissatisfaction that the bastard found out from Tigris what your dress would look like, and he chose a suite so that both of you would match. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your little boy toy? Do you think he's enough of a distraction? That he can replace me? That he'll make you feel what I feel? Maby, that he can even protect you from me? Only I know you. I'm the only one worthy of your fucking attention and affection." you push past him, but he grabs your elbow.

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your hand and shove it down your throat." you growl, breaking away from his grip.

"Such aggression… I don't remember you from this side." he mocks you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You step away from him and cross your arms, staring at him defiantly.

"I will ask you one last time. Where is Thomas?"

"Let's just say that your mother and I caught him stealing your jewelry. We were merciful enough to solve the matter quietly. You will never see that garbage on the ball or any gala again. Certainly not on yours."

"Were you the one who framed him for this?" his silence and the calculating, self-proud look of the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, the snake that choked the mouse) tell you everything. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you ask furiously.

You want to move past him, but he pushes you back, making you bump into the wall. He closes the gap between you in one step, pressing his chest against yours.

"You're mine. You've always been. You shouldn't lead this loser on or give him false hopes. We both know we will end up together."

"I broke up with you." you remind him, not caring about his intimidating attitude.

"A mistake I intend to fix." he says, leaning towards you.

His nose brushes against yours, and you shiver. You lift your leg, trying to kick him in the groyne, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sudden movement and grabs your thigh in a tight grip. If it weren't for the thick layers of material, he would probably leave bruises.

"You... you have nothing to fix. There is no longer us. I don't even know you anymore, Coriolanus."

"Don't." he growls at you angrily. You can see the desperation and madness in his eyes at the fact that you're using his name and that you wrote off your relationship. "It was always you. You were always mine, Y/N, and I was always your Coryo."

"Things are changing quickly. We are not the same, and now we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"We have EVRYTHING to talk about. I still love.."

"DON'T!" you interrupt him. He freezes. You rarely shout, especially at him. That's why he takes a step back before putting on his impassive mask again. "Don't even say that. You have no idea what love is. Sure, you may feel attached and even desire me at some point, but you have no idea of unconditional, true love. So for old time's sake, leave me alone."

"What about you? Do you think you are so holy and blameless? That I'm the only bad guy? You lied to me. You promised you would stay with me, no matter what."

"I promised it to my Coryo. Not to you, Coriolanus. My Coryo died in District 12 with Sejanus—maybe even in the Hunger Games—when you let Dr. Gaul brainwash you in the name of fame, money, and position. You think that old hag didn't tell me why Sejanus is dead? That I don't know that your songbird has disappeared? That I would believe that Highbottom just got high or drank himself to death?" he clenches his jaw and fists at your words. You can see how furious he is, but he holds back, still controlling himself.

"Everything I did, I did for us. For you. For Tigris and Grandma." you laugh, wondering who he's trying to fool—himself, you, or both of you at the same time.

"No. You're doing it for yourself. Only for yourself, Coriolanus." he gets even more angry and pins you to the wall again. His cool blue eyes are raging with rage, and you try hard to push away the feeling of fear he has stirred in you.

"Do you want a reason to hate me? So you and Tigris can still gossip about my madness? Then maybe I should let this old man pursue her and sell her as a wife to one of them for good money."

"KEEP HER OUT OF IT! It's Tigris, Coriolanus! Tigris! The woman whose sacrifice you owe your entire fucking life to! A woman who went out of her way to give your ungrateful, selfish ass something to wear. Who sacrificed the love of her life in the name of maintaining the façade of Snow's wealth?! You can give a damn about me, Sejan, and even that little songbird of yours, but if you fucking ruin the life of your cousin—the only goddamn person who still cares about you—I promise you, in memory of OUR dead friend, that there won't be a fucking hole where you could hide from me."

You stare daggers at each other, both openly expressing your resentment towards the other. You have no idea why he still cares about you—is it because of your money, position, or some sick fantasy he has in his head, or maybe he actually still cares about you?

You don't think about it when a more important issue arises.

Suddenly, he grabs your face in both hands and pulls you towards him, greedily kissing you as he connects your lips after a very long time of separation. He caresses your lips with his and kisses you with such fervour as if he craves you like a hermit starving for water.

And for a moment, you feel like you were with Coryo, when all that mattered to you was the other one, when you could get lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world and the worries that were waiting for you.

And that's exactly what he's doing now. He makes you forget about anything but him.

You can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses his body against yours. When he releases his strong grip on your cheeks to grab you around your waist and press you against his body, his leg is between yours.

He kisses you more hungrily, groaning too at the familiar warmth of your body against him and the feeling of your soft, silky skin pressing against him. The scent of your perfume mixes, creating a perfect combination of roses and your favourite flowers. Your hands automatically go to his hair as you hold on to him and press him to you. You don't like the gel on your hands from his hair, but you ignore this new, irritating feeling by biting his lip.

You don't think at all. As well as Coriolanus. You both just kiss each other, your tongues joining, as you both let your desire for one another take control of the situation.

You only come to your senses when your lips break apart. You gasp, trying to breathe again, as he fucks your exposed collarbones with kisses. Your brain comes back to you as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He bites you, making you moan so needily that a wave of shame washes over you with his tongue, soothing the bite. You push him away from you and place your hand on your chest, trying to regain control over yourself.

"See? We belong together. There is no other way, Y/N. We are all we need."

"Bullshit." you gasp, trying to ignore the possessive, smug feeling blooming in your chest when you see his messy hair and your lipstick smeared on his lips. "Since you are that good in losing your memory, then forget about me too."

"I can't. I just can't. You think I haven't tried? That you don't haunt me every damn step I take? Everything I have and everything I know is saturated with you. With the memory of both of us. I forgot about what I had with that songbird and my friendship with Sejanus, but I simply CAN'T forget about you. I haven't spent a single damn day without thinking about you. NOT EVEN ONE. And I know you felt the same way. Do you know why I didn't kill that stupid boy who was clinging to you? Because I knew it would make you hate me even more. I was alone without you at 12, and you know how it ended. You are my conscience. Without you... there's nothing holding me back. Without you, there is nothing to distinguish me from the Hunger Games tributes. I have no borders, mercy, compassion, or anything that makes people human beings. And Gaul knows it. That's why she told you all of my crimes; that's why you're paranoid now that I'm someone completely different. But it's still me. I. Am. Still. Your. Coryo." he says it firmly, taking a step closer to you with each word.

"Don't turn me into a fucking cricket for your Pinocchio. I am not, and I do not want to be your conscience. I will not take part in your lies, games, and manipulations." you say as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to concede to the other in any way.

"I will have you. One way or another, but I will. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will have you by my side. Just where you always belonged. I promised you to be my First Lady. And I intend to keep that promise."

"You must become president first. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Maybe you can't forget about me. But I can. I do not need you. I never needed you. How ironic to be able to lose the memories of everyone except the girl who will be the end of you, isn't it, CORIOLANUS?" you mock him, a smirk on your lips, making him a promise.

You walk past him, and this time he lets you go, knowing full well that he won't do anything more with you today. At least he got his kiss and a little taste of you, a reminder of the reward that awaits him when everything finally falls into place. When he finally has you in his arms and is at the top of Panem—his rightful place.

"The game has just begun!" he shouts after you, staring at you as you head towards the bathroom to touch up your ruined makeup. It gives you satisfaction to think that this bastard will probably have to clean himself up after your little make-out session, too.

You think that maybe Gaul was right about the Hunger Games being the whole world. But the reality was that there could only be ONE winner.

And among the people of the Capitol, only you and Coriolanus had a real chance of winning. It has always been like that. And even lost memories that do not want to go away so easily are proof of this.

Part 2

[miupow]

──★ BAD DOG !

★ pairing。choi beomgyu x fem!reader genre。⧼ 📖 ⧽ smut , pwp warnings。minors do not interact! est. relationship , sub!beomgyu , pet play , furnature fucking , cumshot , breeding kink , oral (f. rec) , collar and leash , dirty talk , degredation and humiliation kink , praise kink , pet names , facials , squirting , creampie mentions , mommy kink , cum eating mention

★ synopsis。you can't help but please your puppy, even when he's being punished.

a/n ⸝⸝ rewritten work inspired by a thought written by @tigerhoshibby with her permission. i haven't written any sub!idol content in such a long while... excited to finally get back into the game. [ 1. 2k words ] ⸝⸝ [ m. list ]

beomgyu’s eyes brim with tears as he kneels on the floor between your legs, his shaking hands gripping tight onto your plush thighs. you looked down your nose at him, pouting and squirming beneath you as you lounged languidly on the couch, leather collar pulled tight around his neck and catching at his bobbing adam’s apple– another sharp tug of the leash wrapped in your hand makes him whine, unable to pull himself forward and meet you where he wants you the most. “dumb mutt can’t control his dick,” you spit with a sick grin, giggling at the way beomgyu’s breath hitches, “did you just cum from eating some pussy?”

pearly white strings of cum covered his belly and thighs, his cock flushed a deep shade of pink and still rutting mindlessly against the ruined couch cushion underneath him. your own arousal dripped from his lips and chin as beomgyu pants like a dog, slack jawed with his tongue out, those teary eyes blown wide and fixated on your wet pussy. he struggles against the pull of the leash, desperate to dive his head back in between your thighs, a pathetic whimper slipping from his swollen lips when his collar cuts off his breathing, choking him. you watch in sick delight as his cock twitches.

“now look at you getting hard again just from me being mean to you!” you jeer, “disgusting dog, fucking the furnature like some bitch in heat. i bet you want to cum again, don’t you?”

beomgyu’s desperate gaze snaps to yours and he nods his head vigorously, his hips bucking hard against the cushion. a thick bead of precum leaks from the tip of his cock.

“good boys use their words.”

“yes, yes, please–” he whines shakily, voice rough from disuse. “please, please can I cum?”

you pat his head tenderly, running your fingers through his long hair; he arches into your touch like he’s been starved of it, a pretty moan escaping from deep in his chest. a false sense of safety. “where do you want to cum, puppy?” you ask sweetly, the sudden switch in your tone sending beomgyu reeling. 

“i-inside, please, wanna give you my pups,” 

“dumb dog wants to breed like it’s instinct?” you glance at the creamy mess coating beomgyu’s tan skin, faking a sympathetic pout. “but you wasted all your cum, there’s not enough to fill me up…”

you both knew you were full of shit, beomgyu could cum over and over for hours– but in his current headspace he hung onto every word you spat at him, his cries growing louder and louder as your grip on his leash loosened. poor thing, already fucked stupid without even getting his dick wet; you finally drop your hold on him, letting him dive down and press his face against your cunt, his pleas for another release muffled by your swollen pussy lips. 

you sigh in pleasure as beomgyu’s tongue works at your engorged clit, his big brown eyes looking up at you from between your legs. “i’ll let you cum, beomie.” you hiss, reaching for a fistful of his hair to tug. “if you follow my orders.”

“anything, i’ll do anything,” beomgyu begs against your pussy, lapping at your juices as if he was drinking ambrosia.

“i want you to keep humping that cushion like the dog you are. go ahead and ruin it some more, and maybe i’ll forgive you for being such a bad dog.” your voice was far too gentle for your vulgar words, venom disguised as sweet honey. 

beomgyu shakes his head, his glassy tears threatening to overflow sending a sharp shock of arousal up your spine. “nuh uh, wanna cum in you–”

“sorry pup, I already told you there’s not enough.” you lie again. beomgyu presses himself further into your heat, crying out when his oversensitive cockhead brushes the rough fabric of the cushion. 

“i don’t wanna, mommy, please!” he warbles.

“i said no, baby. either cum on the cushion or not at all.” you scratch at his scalp gently, causing him to shiver– he can’t escape the growing need to obey, such an obedient pet even when he’s being bad. slowly and uncoordinated, he rocks his hips back and forth against the cushion, thrusting his tongue into your fluttering hole to cover up his pathetic sobs. his cock throbs an angry red, velvety skin pulsing obscenely as he falls into an unsteady rhythm. every thrust against the cushion makes him cry more and more, so good yet so painful all at once. the friction burns on the underside of his shaft, his weepy fat tip, your poor pet unable to hide his masochistic pleasure as he hiccups pitifully, whines and begs to be touched while he eats your pussy so deliciously. his tears finally fall down his flushed cheeks, and the sight of him so debauched is almost difficult to look at with the way it makes your cunt throb around his tongue. “good boy,” you praise in a whisper, tugging at his hair, watching how he digs his nails deep into the cushion to keep himself from touching without permission. “such a good pup.”

his hips pick up speed, erratic and rough against the cushion, a telltale sign that he was close. he pulls his face out from between your thighs just enough to clearly and properly beg; “please, mommy, i’m gonna cum, don’t wanna cum, let me fuck you, let me cum inside, please–”

you had half the mind to give in to his wishes– you knew he wouldn’t last a few seconds once he was inside of you, his cock swallowed by your warm gummy walls, immediately shooting what was left of his hot cum deep into your pussy… but he was just so cute when you didn't give him what he wanted

“no, mutt. Be a good boy and make a mess on the couch. better make me cum too.”

“mommy, no–” he sobs, reduced down to nothing but a dog doing tricks to impress it’s owner; yet he revels in it, the humiliation of it, and it just brings him closer and closer to spilling his seed everywhere. his cute pink cockhead pokes out with every one of his thrusts forward, leaking a steady stream of precum that does barely anything to aid in the slide. 

he doubles his efforts on your pussy, hot mouth sucking perfectly against your most sensitive spots as you rode his face, throwing your head back with a sharp cry when the ever-growing knot in your belly snaps and you squirt all over beomgyu’s crying face. your orgasm triggers his own, his moan just short of a scream as his tip starts spewing thick ropes of cum everywhere, across the cushion, the floor, and the front of the couch. some of it even lands on your legs, thighs shaking as you ride out your high on his button nose.

“bad dog!” you chastise gleefully once you’ve recovered enough to speak, beomgyu still shaking from the aftershocks as he nuzzles against your thigh. He glances up at you in confusion and surprise. “you made an even bigger mess than before. got your nasty cum everywhere… now lick it up.” 

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Pairing: soldier!anakin x f!reader

Author's note: there will be a song that you may listen to while reading this chapter -> "it's been a long, long time" by Kitty Kallen and Harry James

The middle of September, 1939.

Anakin held you close by the waist as you both swayed slowly to the music from the radio, the strains of your favorite song, "It's Been a Long, Long Time," filling the quiet room. His head rested on your shoulder, his thumbs gently tracing small circles over your stomach. The two of you were mostly silent, sharing a moment that felt like it contained every word that didn't need saying.

It was your last dance.

Your last dance before he would leave for the war.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” you broke the silence, each word sticking in your throat like a shard of glass.

Anakin tightened his hold, his hands strong yet tender against your waist. He took a slow, steady breath, as though he were trying to memorize every inch of you in his arms.

“I’m going to miss you more,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear as he pressed gentle kisses along the curve of your neck. Then he pulled back, twirling you with a gentle spin to the rhythm of the music. His blue eyes were full of a depth that both comforted and shattered you.

“Come on,” he whispered, voice low and coaxing. “Smile for me.”

You managed a soft smile, though your heart clenched at the sight of his face, drinking him in.

He chuckled softly. “No, not like that. I want a real one.” His voice, warm and full of that easy charm, brought a fuller, more genuine smile to your lips.

It was all the music you needed. The sound of his laughter melted your heart, and you felt your sadness recede, just enough to savor the moment with your favorite boy, even as the ache of his departure loomed just ahead.

“There it is,” he said softly, his gaze warm and intent as if he just saw the most beautiful thing in whole world. “That’s my favorite smile on this whole earth.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes lingering on you like he was engraving every detail into memory. “I’ll be seeing this smile in my mind, again and again...until I see it with my own eyes again.”

He drew you close, pressing a kiss to your lips. There was something different in the kiss this time, something deeper, as his hands framed your face, unwilling to let go.

You closed your eyes, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t want you to leave…” you whispered, each word raw with the helpless plea caught in your throat. “…please stay.”

His eyes softened with sadness. “You know I would stay if I could,” he said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with careful fingers. “Especially now,” his voice softened as his hands slid down to your stomach, “when you’re in this state.”

He kissed you again, tenderly, his hands resting over the small curve of your pregnant belly. Then he knelt down, pressing his lips against your body, his chin nestled against your stomach as his hands gently cradled your hips.

“I’m going to come back,” he said, his eyes meeting yours with a fierce determination. “I promise.” And you could see how much he meant it, the strength of his will battling with the fear he held back, not wanting to let you see his own doubts. But still, the weight of his words pressed against his chest—the promise felt like the only way he could make this bearable. He had to believe he’d come back to you. He would do everything in his power to keep that promise - for you, for your future together.

You stood with Ahsoka on the platform, watching as Padmé bid her goodbye to Rex, and Satine to Obi-Wan, both clinging to their loved ones for as long as possible. Anakin had already said his goodbyes to you over the past week, knowing today would come too quickly, knowing he’d have to pull himself away. You could barely bring yourself to look at him now, standing with the other men, laughing to hide the pain that was all too real.

“Are you going to say goodbye?” she asked quietly

You wanted to. And you didn’t. The ache in your chest threatened to overwhelm you, and you weren’t sure if you could stand in front of him and watch him leave.

The silence on the platform felt deafening, heavy as lead, filling your ears, tightening in your chest. It felt like dying. Like falling into a dark, endless void.

Silence settled around you, thick and heavy. You felt it pressing against your heart, a sharp ache that seemed to grow with every passing second, twisting deep within.

Now It felt like falling.

Falling into a dark well of fear, hopelessness with no way to know when, or if, it would end.

You wanted to scream, to run to him, to never let him go.

And all the goodbyes felt like another piece of your heart being taken, broken, scattered. The way every woman's sobs filled the air was paining, especially having in mind only a few of men will come back, and the rest of ladies will have to live without them..

Then, as though sensing your pain, Anakin called your name, And then you heard it— spoken so softly you almost missed it.

All of your friends turned, eyes on you, but it was his gaze that held you, those ocean-blue eyes that were your world. Anakin was smiling softly, as if only you and he existed.

Before you could react, cal appeared out of nowhere and carefully, gently (with your acceptance) lifted you up, carrying you closer to the train window where Anakin leaned over with that boyish smile.

Your heart hammered, each step bringing you closer, until he was right there, face-to-face.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Anakin smiled, his voice soft, and you could hear laughter from his friends in the train car.

“Hi,” you breathed, barely able to speak.

“You know—”

“Just kiss already!” Cal groaned, struggling under your weight "I’m not used to carrying four-month pregnant women on my shoulders!” drawing laughter from the future-to-be-soldiers.

Before you could say anything, Anakin reached down, pulling you into a deep kiss. His lips were soft, but insistent, tasting faintly of mint. Your fingers curled around the edge of the window, steadying yourself, trying to anchor yourself to him.

He pulled back slowly, placing soft kisses across your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and then back to your lips one final time. Cal set you gently on the ground, pulling you into a quick hug.

“Take care of her, Snips,” Anakin called to Ahsoka, his voice lifting above the hum of the station as the whistle blew, the signal of the train’s impending departure.

“Right away, Skyguy,” Ahsoka replied, her fingers squeezing yours in quiet comfort.

Your vision blurred with tears as the train began to move. Anakin waved to you, his eyes catching yours one last time, full of an unspoken promise, a silent assurance that he would come back.

As the train picked up speed, you couldn't hold yourself back. Your hand slipped from Ahsoka’s, and you took a few running steps, unable to stop yourself.

“Be safe!” you called, your voice breaking.

“You know me!” he shouted back, grinning with one last flash of that smile before the train pulled him out of view.

As the train sped up, you felt Ahsoka’s hand on your shoulder, steady and warm, her presence a balm to the unbearable ache left by his departure. Behind you, Sabine’s quiet sobs mingled with Padmé’s soothing words, while your tears finally escaped, silent and heavy.

And you knew that this ache, this longing, would be with you every day, until you could finally hold him again.

.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax

[buckysgrace]

The Importance of Updog

Part one of Closer to My Heart!

Single dad!Billy Hargrove x fem!Reader

Theo shares the new words that he's heard. Billy is late as usual.

“No,” Becky drew out, “Mermaids can’t be this color.” She snapped as she pointed towards the mixes of orange and purple on Rosa’s paper. Rosa’s nose crinkled in response. 

“Yes they can,” Rosa snapped back, looking just as frustrated, “You’re a liar.” She said quickly, pointing her finger at Becky. You quickly wiggled yourself in between, knowing that Becky liked to bite rather than argue. 

“Hold on,” You spoke up to get their attention, “This is a really good question. How can we find out what color mermaids are?” You asked them, tapping your finger against your chin as you pretended to think for yourself. You liked giving your students the opportunity to work out their issues on their own. Sometimes.

“Well-,” Becky began, only to be cut off by a loud sigh further down from the room.

“Motherfucker!”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you snapped your head around, your students following your lead as the room suddenly became quiet. You drifted your gaze towards your table of boys that usually were full of giggles and anything but dirty words. 

“Shitbiwd!” The smallest one yelling out, his dark eyebrows furrowed together as he stared angrily at the blue marker he’d been shaking in his little fists. He pouted his little lips out, looking frustrated as he tried to scribble once again. 

“Theo,” You rushed over, ignoring the sounds of the other little boys and girls gasping as you knelt down by him, “What’s wrong?” You whispered towards him, surprised that he had said such a thing. You never had any issue with him. 

Theo had been in the daycare since he was an infant. He was a big snuggler, one of your loudest gigglers and was always first in line for snack time. Hearing him curse was something new, as was seeing him so frustrated. 

“It empty,” He said in annoyance, “Wook!” He proclaimed as he tried to draw, showing off that the ink was gone. His blue eyes looked up towards you worriedly, like the world would end if he couldn’t get green down on his paper. 

“So what can we do about it?” You asked him calmly, watching the way his features slowly relaxed and his blue eyes widened. He stuck his tongue out in the same way he did when he was thinking extra hard. 

“Get a new one?” He questioned you, his blonde little curls still hanging over his forehead despite his new haircut. You figured he must��ve been outside a lot this weekend as his cheeks were full of fresh freckles. 

“Mhm,” You told him as you nodded your head, “And what can we say instead of using bad words?” You asked him casually, sure that he would come to his own conclusion. You blinked, watching as his features fell in despair. 

“I said bad word?” He asked you fearfully, his eyes filling with tears as he brought his chubby hands to his face, “Oh no!” He spit out dramatically, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. 

“It’s okay,” You reassured him quickly, feeling guilty for making him cry, “You didn’t know. You don’t have to be sad.” You rubbed at his back as he collapsed into your arms, his little shoulders shaking as he cried. 

“My daddy say -,” He started as he sniffled harshly, burying his face into the crook of your neck, “My tongue tuwn to bugs if I say bad words!” He proclaimed once again, sounding quite sure of himself. You huffed, but quickly slid your disdain for his father away. 

“Theo has bugs.” One of the other little boys began to whisper, followed by a little course of giggles from your three and four year olds. You shook your head as Theo whimpered into your chest, as if his whole life was over. 

“Theo does not have bugs.” You told them seriously, meeting eye contact with each one until they were no longer laughing. Theo pulled his head away curiously, his skin flushed from where he’d been crying.

“My daddy lie?” He asked you in horror as you reached for a tissue, handing it to him tenderly. You bit your lip, knowing that one of the hardest parts of your job was to find the delicate balance between teaching them and sticking to the rules their parents set up. 

“No. I didn’t say that,” You clarified softly as he lightly dabbed at his eyes, “Stick out your tongue.” You told him as you sat back. He looked at you confused, his little button nose wrinkling up. 

“Huh?”

“Let’s check for bugs,” You said, tilting your head while he stuck his tongue out for you to see, “Hm.” You pretended to think as you playfully tilted his head from side to side. Zane, who sat next to him, leaned closer in curiosity. 

“Wha?” He asked, still holding his tongue out. His blue eyes were wide with fear as he kept flickering his gaze down to you. 

“All I see is up dog.” You replied as you put on a frown, dropping his chin at the same time he stuck his tongue back into his mouth. 

“What’s up dog?” He asked almost perfectly as you felt a smile form on your lips. Humor really was the best medicine. 

“Not much, dog. What’s up with you?” You grinned as you asked him the question, fingers pressing into his soft sides as he let out a loud giggle. His eyes lit up in joy, already forgetting the previous situation. 

The remainder of craft time was spent with your children telling each other the updog joke, as in their eyes you were clearly the funniest person they knew for the time being. And you were fine with that. At least they appreciated your humor. 

You passed off reading time to one of the assistant teachers, knowing that you needed to at least attempt to reach Theo’s father before the day was over. Even though you didn’t want to. You never wanted to. 

“Is Billy Hargrove there?” You asked once someone from the auto shop finally picked up, “I’m with Sunnyside-“

“Just a second.” The guy answered you before you could finish, making you feel as if you already knew where this call was heading. Billy was never pleasant when you called, always acting as if you were purposely trying to annoy him. Even though you were doing your job. 

“Yeah?” You listened to the sound of Billy’s voice a moment later. He sounded slightly out of breath, his tone raspy and uneven. You were sure his hands were probably greasy and dirty, his forehead sweaty. But you shook those thoughts away. 

“Hi,” You began, “There was an incident today at S-“ You read off the same script that had been engraved in your brain since you had started here. 

“Is Theo okay?” He interjected, “Did that Ricky boy bite him again?” He snapped, sounding as frustrated as Theo had earlier. You chewed on your bottom lip, but knew he had a fair point of being concerned with RIcky. Lucky for all of them, he no longer attended this daycare. 

“No,” You said slowly as you tried to keep your cool as you kept getting interrupted, “As I was saying, there was an incident today with Theo cursing.” You spoke a little faster in hopes that you wouldn’t get cut off this time. 

“So?” Billy scoffed as if it was no big deal. In all honesty, you did think it was sort of funny. But it was against the rules and you were just following the right steps so it didn’t look like you were stepping on anyone’s toes.

You wished you could step on Billy’s toes. Perhaps with a sharp pair of heels. Maybe he wouldn’t be so arrogant then. 

“It’s against the rules to have the children using profanity,” You replied as you rubbed at the back of your neck, trying to keep yourself from using the snarky tone that was crawling up the base of your throat, “I just had to call to keep you informed.”

“Isn’t your main rule for children to express themselves?” He asked and you swore you could feel the cocky smirk forming on his lips despite him not being here. He always wore it when he questioned you, as if you were the one that was doing something wrong. 

“I did not create the rules,” You replied sharply, “I’m just following the system so you’re up to date with the care of your child.” You spoke professionally despite the bitterness coursing through your system. Asshole. 

“Is Theo okay?” He asked a little softer, making your shoulders relax. Just a smidge. You were still on edge, feeling like he was tricking you with his gentle tone. Deep down you knew that he wasn’t. Despite your grievances towards him, he really was a good dad. Theo adored him. As did every single worker in the building. You didn’t understand the fascination.

He was always late, snippy and curled up his nose at you like you were the scum of the earth. There were many times that you wanted to remind him that he could move Theo to a different classroom if he wanted, but he never did. It was like he enjoyed torturing you. 

“He’s better now,” You responded as you nodded your head, “I just had to update before I filled out a behavior she-,” You were once again cut off, unable to finish your sentence. Perhaps that’s where the dislike came from as well.

“I’ll talk to Linda about it.” He hung up before you could respond, making you silently seethe in anger for a moment as he once again went above your head. You hoped the car grease seeped into his pretty blonde hair and ruined it. 

As usual, Billy strolled in at exactly 5:15, fifteen minutes passed when the daycare was officially closed. Something your supervisor liked to yell at you about. As if it was your fault. You’d given Billy the warnings, the reminder slips and everything above and beyond. He didn’t care and you no longer wasted your breath. You had learned to pick up your classroom at that time, to clock out and sit up front with Theo until Billy decided to arrive. 

He put out his cigarette before he entered, his curly hair loosely tied back as some strands fell in front of his forehead. He was out of his mechanic uniform, wearing a tight pair of jeans and a white tank top. You tore your gaze away from his formed biceps, distracting yourself with how many rainbows were decorated on the walls instead. 

“Daddy!” Theo proclaimed, dropping his collection of toy cars as he bolted towards Billy, “Hi!” He squealed out, a smile bursting on his face as he reached for Billy’s arms. You smiled despite yourself. Perhaps all of Billy’s best qualities had gone to his son.

“Hey, squirt,” Billy responded affectionately as he kissed the side of Theo’s head, “How was today?” He asked as he bounced him in his arms, pulling a grin on his lips.

“Fun!” He replied as he rested his cheek against Billy’s for a moment. He really was the spitting image of his father. You shook your head as you began to place his toy cars into his backpack.

“He can do that.” Billy responded, stalling your movements as you held up your hands innocently. Usually your interactions were fake smiles and the occasional good night. But that was only if you were extra annoyed with him. His presence was already making your blood boil.

“Thank you teachew,” Theo smiled happily as he waddled back towards you. You slightly wondered if Billy purposely made him forget your name, “You come back?” He asked as he tilted his head, worried as if you would suddenly disappear.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, dog.” You teased him as he gave your fingers a little squeeze. He giggled, his eyes lighting up and his features bursting into joy as he turned back towards his father who looked anything but impressed. 

“Hey,” Theo ran up to him again, “I see your tongue.” He stated as he stared up at Billy, his backpack far too big for his little body. You pressed your lips together as you gathered your purse and collected yourself from the floor.

“What?”

“Please.” Theo begged as he tugged on Billy’s large hands. You kept to yourself but stayed put, knowing you couldn’t officially leave until they were gone. 

“Okay,” Billy pulled his lips together, like he was trying to keep from smiling, “What do you think?” He asked then stuck out his tongue, bending over a little bit so Theo could see better. 

“I don’t know,” Theo said as he rested his hands on his hips, “All I see is updog.” He replied, covering his mouth as he began to giggle. He was bouncing on the tips of his feet, unable to hide his excitement. 

“Updog?” Billy asked him curiously, going off script as he tilted his head to the side. He spared you a glance, but you quickly turned away from him. You offered no explanations. 

“Yeah,” Theo replied as he wrinkled his eyebrows together, “Updog!” He said sternly, his eyebrows wrinkling together once again. You debated about helping him out, but stopped in case Billy snapped at you again. 

“What’s that?”

“Daddy no,” He grumbled in frustration, “You have to say the name!”

“What’s updog?” Billy asked this time, raising an eyebrow as he waited. Theo was still grinning, the words on the tip of his tongue before it slowly fell. He wrinkled his eyebrows together, his features wrinkling into confusion as he faced you.

You met him halfway, sitting back on your knees as he raced over to you. He pouted his lips out as he gripped one of your hands, leaning against you as he stood to whisper into your ear, “How’s it go again?”

You smiled as you turned him around, still letting him hold your hand as you whispered to him, “Not much dog, what’s up with you?” He giggled as he listened before he repeated it back to Billy, laughing so hard that it was almost hard to make out the words.

“Ha,” Billy responded dryly, but his eyes crinkled in amusement as he held out his hand for Theo again, “You better get moving before we have updog for dinner.” His eyes slowly cut into yours but you turned away, having no desire to see how dumb he thought the joke was. 

“Uh oh,” Theo’s eyes widened as he quickly glanced at you before he bounced back towards Billy, “See you ‘morrow teachew!” He waved before he took Billy’s hand, rambling about his day as they left.

You used your key to lock up, ready to get home and have something strong. Perhaps a drink. Perhaps you’d eat your feelings away. Perhaps you’d buy a carton of cigarettes on the way home. The exciting possibilities were just endless. 

Your joy for the day only grew as you arrived at your car, almost jumping in joy to see the front tire that was completely lifeless and deflated of air. Perfect. Just the cherry on top that you needed. 

You turned on your heel, grumbling for the first time as you headed down the street. Looks like you’d be taking the bus. Your car could wait for later. You didn’t feel like unlocking the building and calling for anyone yet. That could wait for tomorrow. 

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

what wasnt being said in the poly poolverine storyline??? youve got me so hooked on this one

Enjoy a smut

"So, Angel baby," Wade demanded when you settled on the couch, "make with the details. What'd they say?"

You take a drink and a deep breath and Logan trades looks with Wade behind your head as they take seats on either side of you. "Well. My brain is still there, so that's good news."

"But," Logan prompted, feeling his stomach sink unpleasantly.

"But," you sigh, "they're going to try some new meds and if that doesn't work surgery IF I'm even a candidate for it. But IF they do that the recovery time is a beast and so is the therapy and-"

"We'll figure it out," Wade said.

You shake your head, "I don't expect you to-"

"Shut up," Logan said without any real heat, dropping an arm around your shoulders.

"And," you sigh, "there's still the risk that it could leave me worse off than I am now."

"We'll figure it all out," Wade said, kissing the side of your head.

"I still understand if-"

"Shut up," they tell you in unison.

Wade grabbed your chin and licked into your mouth, cutting off anything else you could say as he kissed you. His usual gentleness replaced with something like desperation. Days of pent up anxieties that had been gnawing at him bubbling up. And on your other side, Logan isn't about to be left out. Taking advantage of the exposed, tender skin on your neck to make his own feelings about it known. Scraping the flesh with his teeth. Making you whimper

"Aw hell no," Althea muttered, "Not this shit again."

You try to pull away from Wade to stammer an apology but Wade keeps hold of your hair and nips at your lip possessively, grinning when you close your eyes and shiver. "Poor neglected angel baby," he cooed, "Look at her, Peanut-"

The Apartment door slammed with Althea's exit and Logan's only response was to carefully shred your shirt. Leaving you in a bralette and your jeans on the couch. Exposing left over bits of adhesive and the bruises on your arms from blood draws and IVs. And he growls possessively. Burrying his face in your breasts and nuzzling briefly before he knelt in front of you and pushed your knees apart. Kissing the bruises on your arms.

"Good girl," Wade said, pulling off his shirt, "Just relax. Think you can take us today, huh?"

"Want to," you whine, letting your head loll back. "Missed my boys."

"You can do it, Princess," Logan growled, unbuttoning your jeans and trailing soft kisses down your stomach.

"He's so soft for you, baby," Wade purred. "Got us both so owned we're stupid. Not goin' anywhere, 'kay?"

"I just don't want you to have to take care of me," you protest, going tense.

Logan grumbled and pulled your jeans and panties down, leaving you exposed you him, and sank his teeth into your thigh. Sharply enough that you cried out, and he licked tenderly at the bite to soothe it. "Ours," he grunted.

"God that's fuckin' hot-"

"Wade," you whine. It's hard to focus. It's hard to think. It's hard to do anything except WANT when they're touching you like this. And when Logan smirks up at you, teasing your folds with just the pad of his index finger, almost lazily- you can only whimper.

"Angel baby," Wade crooned, "what's the matter, huh? You wanna play too?" He shimmied out of his pants and let his cock spring free, "Come to papa. Let's give you something to do, huh?"

And you do, licking at his tip to tease him. Satisfied when you feel his hands in your hair to stroke it. "That's it, Sweetie. Feels better, hu- Fuuuck. Yes. You know what I- Shit."

"Good girl," Logan growled. Giving you a little more now that you're starting to relax some. Losing yourself like you need to- to not think so much. To not worry so much. And your answering muffled mewl is like music to his ears. "That's it, kid. Gonna put two inside you, kay?" Better Music to his ears s that Wade is helpless in your capable hands. All he can do is sing your praises and try not to fuck your face.

Logan could sympathize- You had some super fucking human blowjob skills and he was willing to bet if Wade so much as twitched he was gonna lose it. But- there were rules. And when you were with them, they'd both agreed "Ladies First" was the first rule. It wasn't going to be fair if you hurt yourself and had to tap out before you got to come. They learned that the hard way.

He kept working you and kept at it, slow and steady. Enjoying the steady cresendo of your release. And when you did come, moaning incoherently around Wade's cock, his breathless little scream made Logan grin as he watched his other lover spatter come down your chest- careful not to get it on your face or in your hair.

"Christ," he panted, "What is this Prom night?"

Logan smirked and kissed you before he kissed Wade, "What's the matter, bub, she get the best of ya?"

"It's the fucking tongue thing. Every time- succubus." He pouted and leaned down to kiss you, wiping come off you with his discarded shirt, "Did you have a gay boyfriend or something? Fuck."

You snort, "If you learn to suck dick, suddenly boys don't care as much if you don't really want to fuck."

"Only because they don't know how to fuck," Logan growled, rubbing your hips.

"Such a DILF thing to say," Wade said, leaning over to kiss Logan, "as soon as I can feel my legs again-"

"As soon as you can feel your fucking legs, you pussy," he said, smirking, "you're sucking my dick while she sits on my face."

"So bossy," Wade pouted, "Guess I gotta get my kisses in now huh? Since Logi-bear decided he wants to be Daddy today."

[rookiesbookies]

Reader making a deal with demon!König or Price in exchange in becoming their bride to which reader enthusiastically accepts just leaving demon!König/Price bewildered

Hello hello my brave reader! Sorry this took a couple days, I wanted to make sure it was good! Also I made it a bonus and gave you a two for one deal! Two fics in one ask!

I decided to do both boys because I could see them both doing this and Im going to put them under the cut!

Also here’s the source I used to come up with ideas for them as demons, I love this idea so much!

Masterlist pinned as always!

Price:

The young lady sobbed, tightly holding onto her robe while etching a mysterious symbol on the floor with a small dagger. She stumbled upon it in a scholarly book about Demons, which she had acquired from a wandering trader through less-than-legal means. Keeping it hidden from the church, she diligently gathered the required items for this peculiar ritual.

Chanting in what sounded like Latin, although she couldn't quite identify it, she lit candles strategically placed around the symbol. Stepping back hastily, she knelt, bowing her head in tearful anticipation.

Out of the floor, a ball of black flames emerged, as dark as the night sky with white peaks resembling stars. The room was bathed in its eerie glow.

A commanding voice resonated, causing her to flinch and weakly tighten her grip on the robe. "Who dares summon a Prince of Hell?" The booming words filled the air.

“I do, your Majesty, it was me,” she said quietly.

The fire, though intense, didn't scorch anything as it reached out, gently lifting her head. Despite its heat, it left no trace or marks on her skin, creating a paradoxical mix of fear and fascination.

The fire boomed out a question of why in her face, making her let out a weak whimper.

“It’s the man I am to marry! The church arranged this marriage, he is a terrible man, your majesty, he has beaten me and robbed me of my dignity!” The fire got hotter, seemingly angry, “he is terrible to me, I have prayed and prayed but God has not come to save me! There have been no miracles, your majesty. I,” she began to stutter out as the tears continued to roll down her face, “I have become scared of what he will do to me. I will do anything to be free of him, anything for a miracle, even if it be unholy!”

The fire was silent.

“He attempted to defile me, forcefully,” she cried, reaching out to hold the fire lifting her chin to face it as she begged. “I will marry anyone, I will do anything to not marry him. Any man is better than him!”

The fire thundered, dissolving to show a tall, ethereal man who delicately lifted her chin. His beauty was striking, his pale skin almost angelic, belying his demonic nature. Horns emerged from his sleek hair, curving back like bone with sharp points. Draped in a fur waistcloth, his abs, covered in a thin, soft layer of skin, captivated her senses, igniting an unexpected desire.

"Anything?" he inquired, scrutinizing the girl in her silk nightgown and cotton robe. She tenderly wrapped her hand around his forearm. She would have licked sweat off his abs if he asked.

"Anything," she breathed, captivated by the enigmatic figure.

"Then you shall marry me instead, lamb." His grip on her chin made her nervous, and she timidly withdrew. His sharp eyes tracked her every movement as she placed her hand in his.

"I'll do it," she mumbled.

"Speak louder to your prince."

"Yes," she affirmed, her voice gaining strength. "I'll do it."

Konig:

Summoning the half incubus, half demon of envy Prince of Hell was far from the plans she had today.

It was a dare. She was dared to make a deal for overwhelming and eternal beauty. She was going to back out before she made it, she swore to herself. She didn’t need beauty, she was more than content with herself.

She cussed as she drew the shape into the floor with the crayola washable marker. It was her room. She wasn’t going to put it in a sharpie or carve it with a knife.

She placed and lit the candles as she mumbled the chant in what seemed like German. Her friend had read of this demon from a German folk story and of course they dared the friend who was single to summon him. Her friends outside the door giggling.

When the red flames with green tips erupted from her floor she opened her mouth to scream. But a large hand reached from behind her to cover her mouth. The flames dissolving as her eyes almost bulged from her head. He moved

“Why did you summon me, maus.” He commanded. She looked towards the door, he got real close to her ear and whispered, “they cannot hear me. They did not summon me.”

She could hear the smirk in his voice.

He removed his large hand from her face and she was finally able to get a good look at him. A large burly man, probably 8 feet tall easily, in heavy armor and fur. The metal black and fur a bright red.

“I wish for beauty,” she said softly.

“I am not a genie, Maus.” He snarked with a chuckle. “But I will make you a deal. If you tell me what you truly want.”

He stepped forward to her, kneeling so her leg went between his, his mask close to her face.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” she said softly. “I want a mature and sweet man to love me and be with me, like I see all my friends with.”

She could feel his crotch hovering over her leg, good god it seemed heavy. She now understood how he was half incubus.

“Then you shall have it, if you give me what I want from you in return.” He spoke darkly, as if he was licking his lips under the hood and eyeing her over.

“Well what is it you want?” She asked shyly.

“You will wed me in exchange.”

…

“Ok.”

“Huh?”

“I said ok.” She shook his hand.

Masterlist is pinned on my account as always, let me know in the comments if you want other boys done for this prompt or a part 2! (I say comments so I can easily pin askers if they dont submit it too the box)

I love you to my brave readers to submit asks and all the ones who interact! I love having interactions with you all! Hope you enjoy!

[littlebabyyd0ll]

i cannot get this man out of my head i’m literally going feral

thinking about sitting down in front of one of the age-old couches in saltburn, chin settled sweetly upon your knee, bright eyes trained upon the illuminated tv screen. your lips twitch upwards at the green, groaning ogre complaining to a talking donkey. frilly sock clad toes dig in to the carpet, fidgeting with every minute movement of the boy above you.

you can feel him everywhere, his fingers, the warmth of his shins against your arms, his gorgeous mixture of cigarettes and aftershave. he’d abandoned a ciggy in favour of reaching out for your strands of hair in front of him, collecting them and twisting them idly. his movements are slow as to not catch the attention of any of his family, and he’s so gentle, domestic even. you welcome the light chill that the silver of his signet ring brings to the nape of your neck, bask in the way that he leans forwards in his seat behind you, loses himself in favour of your locks and ignores the family movie, despite it being the one that he picked out himself.

his movements begin to feel tighter, tickle your scalp in a way that only he makes you feel. lightheaded. small. sickly sweet. felix lets put a huff of breath, one that has your baby hairs dancing under his command, and his warm hand is suddenly on your shoulder. skin smooth, nails trimmed, he glides his way down your arm, all the way to your wrist. his large hand dwarfs the bone, elegant movements have his fingers slipping into the hair bobble that resides there and stealing it from you, but so softly you don’t even notice it happening. it’s the same way that he stole your heart, slowly, tenderly, summer over summer, christmas break over christmas break when you came to stay.

“oh, how darling!” his mother gushes as she notices the movements, watches with her ever observing eyes as felix ties off the end of the braid. “just look, pamela, look what he’s done. you look stunning, darling.” she smiles at you, a mother just as smitten with her son’s choice in love affairs as he is.

you turn your head, finally gazing up at him as his hold falls to nothingness. your eyes sparkle in the dim light of one of their many sitting rooms, and he admires the softness of you, just as he does every day. his chocolate eyes trace the softness of your cheeks, the chain of the necklace he gifted you upon your collarbones, the shape of your brow, the gloss upon your grinning lips.

“perfect.” he mutters, and he knows, as surely as he knows that he will die, that he loves you more than anything he has ever seen or imagined on earth.

[l33bang24]

OMG It’s You…(Part 13)

YouTube!Fem reader x Stray Kids

Summary: Y/N’s YouTube channel is taking off after her reactions to Stray Kids MV God’s Menu. Now she’s making videos nonstop along with working a full time job. What would happen if she got offered a job of a lifetime and met the boys of her succession?

⚠️Warnings⚠️: fluff, kissing, anxiety, nervousness, mixed feelings?? (not sure myself)

🏷️ : @laylasbunbunny @weirdowithaphone @silverstarburst @jusanontstuff @anxiousskylar @drewsandsebastianswife @amararosesblog @niaalove @blackbluerose666 @bangchansgirlsblog @yukichan67 @katsukis1wife (Taglist open)

(Authors note at the end)

Series Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

I found myself in a moment of complete uncertainty. One second, I was worried about what Lee Know would think of me when we met. The next, he drew me close and passionately kissed my lips. I was initially taken aback and didn't know how to react. But as he started to pull away, I instinctively closed the gap and reciprocated the kiss. I could sense the smile on his lips as he deepened the kiss, and time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in each other. When we finally broke apart, it felt like an eternity had passed, even though it had only been a few minutes.

“What brings you here, Angel?" He asks with a sweet smile, keeping me against him. "Did you come all this way just to see me?" A smile crept across my face as I lowered my head slightly. "What if I told you that I've started a new job here in South Korea, and I've been living here for a little over a month now?” I nervously studied his response, observing as his expression shifted from astonishment to bewilderment and finally to a look of betrayal. "Are you telling me the truth, Jagiya? You've been here all this while?" I lowered my gaze and nodded in response. "I planned to surprise you guys after the race tomorrow, but I didn't anticipate the staff would detain one of you.”

I glance back at him before continuing, “I didn't mean to keep it from you, I promise. I-” I avert my gaze, feeling the weight of his disappointment sink in. I felt his firm grip on my chin, lifting my gaze back to meet his. In his eyes, I saw nothing but pure love and adoration. "Spill all the details, baby girl." he said, using one of his usual pet names for me. I recounted everything from the day MNet visited my old workplace to what I've been up to today. My cheeks were so flushed I felt like I was on fire.

“So, you're telling me you've been hiding from me all day? You're a very naughty girl.” He tsks, shaking his head. I push him back, but he tightly wraps his arms around my waist. "Well, I was going to show you where I've been all day, but I changed my mind now." With a mischievous glint in his eye, he reached out to tickle me, and I couldn't help but burst into laughter and double over. After a few playful moments, he finally convinced me to show him the room I had been hiding in. Stepping back, I took his hand and led him towards my secret room. As we entered, he looked around, taking in every detail of the hidden space.

"How on earth did they manage to accomplish this?" He inquires, his curiosity piqued as I diligently pack my belongings. With a smile, I turn to face him. "It required some time and effort, but we pulled it off with the assistance of the staff.” I respond. As I prepare to sling my bag over my shoulder, he intervenes, swiftly grabbing it from my hand and draping it over his shoulder instead. “I was sitting so close to the room where you and Chan were that I couldn't help but try to stifle my laughter. I did my best, but there were a few moments when I couldn't hold it in.”

He walks closer and whispers, "Have I mentioned how beautiful you look today?" I respond with a shy shake of my head. "Well, you are stunning, Angel," he declares softly, kissing my cheek tenderly. I feel the warmth spreading across my face as I thank him, my cheeks turning red. “Pictures don’t do you any justice. They are only a glimpse of your magnificence.” Now, I know my whole face and ears are entirely red.

“It's because of the makeup and wardrobe. Without all of this, I’m different.”I say with a wave of my hand. Lee Know pulls me back towards his chest, and I can't help but feel an undeniable attraction. "I know how lovely you are, even without anything on." As much as I wanted to roll my eyes, I couldn't help but smile as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. I gave him a playful shove, my hand touching his muscular chest. "Alright, alright, I got it. I might as well expect my face to explode from the heat you're insinuating."

His chuckle reverberates as he keeps his arm wrapped around my waist. "Now that we finally meet, does that mean I get to stay with you tonight?” I raise my eyebrow at him. “What? No way! You have to go home and keep this a secret. You can't tell anyone you met me. And tomorrow, when I introduce myself, you better act like you're genuinely surprised. Not a sarcastic surprise, but like it's the first time meeting me, kind of a surprise.” He huffs in annoyance.

“I’ll give you this. After tomorrow's race, I invite y’all to visit the house where I've been staying while filming these videos. I've already cleared it with your boss, so you can hang out with me before you return to your usual schedule. Does that make you feel better?" I ask, noticing the smirk on his face as he nods in agreement, already knowing he wouldn't turn that down.

After loading my vehicle, we said goodbye. He pulled me in for a tight embrace, gently kissing my lips. He held me for a moment longer, then pressed another kiss to my forehead, wishing him luck the next day. As we parted, my cheeks ached from the non-stop smiling throughout our time together. I returned to the house I'd been temporarily staying in and collapsed on the bed.

I never imagined that this day would arrive, but here it is. As I browsed through the photos on my phone, I came across the pictures I had captured with Lee Know. Just as he mentioned previously, photographs truly cannot capture his essence. Even now, I can still sense the lingering touch of his hand on my skin, almost as if it's etched into my very being. That evening, I drifted off to sleep with a contented smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lee Know’s POV

The smile on my face felt like it was etched there permanently, defying any attempts to remove it. I couldn't quite fathom why I was being restrained, but it didn't matter - I was elated. As I strained to catch a glimpse, I heard Y/N’s voice, and everything else faded. Y/N's presence stole my breath. As she entered the room, I couldn't help but be taken aback by her stunning beauty.

She was feeling a bit nervous, and I admit I was. But at that moment, I only wanted to show her how much I loved her. I pulled her close and kissed her as if she were the most refreshing drink in the world, as I had been wandering through a desert for days.

I had caught her off guard with my sudden actions, but as I started to withdraw, she drew me back in. I knew she wouldn't be able to resist me, especially when I found it impossible to resist her. As I gazed ahead, everything I had ever dreamed of was right before me, and I knew I would be foolish not to seize the opportunity.

When Y/N disclosed the reasons for keeping everything secretive, I felt disappointed that she doubted trusting me. However, after she reassured me that she did trust me and was trying to surprise us, I decided to let go of my misgivings. Despite my reluctance to return to the dorms, especially with her by my side, I complied with her request.

As I returned to the dorm, I carefully crafted a credible story to tell my roommates about where I'd been. Once I reached my room, I reached into my pocket and retrieved my phone with a smile. Earlier, Y/N suggested we take a photo together, and I happily agreed. I set that picture as my phone's wallpaper so I could see it every time I unlocked it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following day arrived with the sky adorned in thick clouds, yet my spirits remained undampened. The anticipation of reuniting with Y/N filled me with an exhilarating eagerness to embark on the day's adventures.

As we reached the filming location for the Lovers Race, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of excitement. When we finally made our way to the table prepared for us, my eyes landed on two beautifully decorated cakes, each one celebrating the birthdays of Jisung and Yongbok.

All I could focus on was the image of Y/N's face, yearning to see her again. I longed for her soft lips against mine and the perfect fit of her hand. Her eyes, crinkling with joy, flashed through my mind, inspiring me with the determination and resilience to navigate through today's event, knowing that at its conclusion, she would be mine once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chan’s POV

I found it strange that MNet wanted to keep one of our members, Lee Know, behind. This was not something they had ever done before. When a staff member approached us and asked for Lee Know to stay, I immediately asked why. However, I only received a vague response about wanting to talk to him.

Jeongin mentioned that when Lee Know came back, he seemed noticeably happier than when he left, and his lips looked swollen as if he'd been kissing someone. It left me feeling unsettled because it didn't add up. I had intended to discuss this with Lee Know, but due to the upcoming filming schedule, I had to postpone the conversation until after the race.

I desperately hoped my assumptions were incorrect and everything was a huge misunderstanding. I will do my best to push these thoughts out of my mind. The girl who has captured my heart sends me a picture of herself smiling over a cup of coffee and wishes me good luck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

As I sipped on the hot cup of coffee, I could feel my nerves acting up even more. The caffeine seemed to amplify my anxiety, making me feel ten times worse. As I glanced outside, the weather didn't look promising, and I couldn't help but hope and pray that it wouldn't rain and spoil the event we had planned.

I made it a point to arrive early in the morning to ensure all the cases were placed correctly and set up for filming. We had chosen the gorgeous WaveGarden water park as the location for shooting the Lovers Race, and I wanted everything to be perfect for the filming. Siheung, South Korea, is the home of an impressive WaterGarden Cove, known for being the largest of its kind among all the locations. This stunning spot is conveniently situated just thirty minutes from the Incheon Airport, making it easily accessible for travelers. We had reserved the whole day for filming so we could put out all the cases for the Lovers to find.

The moment my eyes landed on this place, I was captivated by its beauty. Its sheer magnificence amplified my enthusiasm. The expanse of the area offered countless hiding spots for these cases. I couldn't contain my anticipation of their reactions when they discovered that most of these cases were blanks.

Once all the cases were in place, we prepared for filming. To ease my anxiety, I spent some time practicing breathing exercises, knowing well that as we approached the end of the filming process, my anxiety would inevitably resurface. Until then, I'll relish their chaos's spectacle and delight in their entertaining silliness.

The time had come for us to begin. I had practiced a few of my openings before deciding which one to use. After filming my opening, we waited for the boys to arrive. Having already taken some pictures of the water park, we watched as the boys walked to the table presented with birthday cakes.

I couldn't help but smile as I recalled the heartwarming moment. It was a special day as Han's birthday was today and Felix's was tomorrow. I had asked if I could be the one to make cakes for both of them. Despite the staff's offer to have someone else handle it, I adamantly refused.

"Why should I let someone else make it when I've taken culinary classes and know how to make them myself?" I confidently asserted. I immediately regretted my words as I struggled to apply the frosting on the cake. There were moments when I contemplated tossing the whole thing out the window, but I couldn't bring myself to do it because I had promised to make it.

I successfully managed to complete both cakes. I remember feeling a sense of accomplishment as I finally finished them. After putting in so much effort, I slept soundly that night. My focus shifted when Han asked if the group could sing Happy Birthday to him and Felix. The cacophony of boys singing different off-key versions of the song filled the air, making it unbearable. I hastily removed my earpiece, not wanting to subject my ears to more discomfort than they were already experiencing.

Once they settled down some, I reinserted the earpiece just as Cupid began to speak. “Hello, we meet again! The Lover's Race will begin shortly!” The boys all clap excitedly. “Lovers are Changbin, Seungmin, Felix, and I.N, and the non-lovers are Bang Chan, Lee Know, Hyunjin, and Han. Please go to your corresponding starting points.” I laugh at the confusion on the guy's faces.

Once the group was split and taken to their respective areas, Cupid gave out their rules to the race, starting with the lovers. “Welcome, Lover! The Lover’s Race that only lovers can participate in will shortly begin! The lovers must find the cases hidden throughout the field! After obtaining the hint inside the case, guess the five-digit passcode and open the lock for the proof of love. There are only 15 cases with hints about the passcode!”

“Only fifteen? Then what’s inside the remaining 128 cases?” Jeongin asks as Seungmin counter-asks if they are just blanks. However, no one responds to them. “You have an hour-60 minute for the race! After the hour’s up, you must open the lock with the hints you obtained in 2 attempts. And the members who didn't become lovers have become fugitives who have to run away from the lovers. If you fail to open the case with the proof of love in an hour, you'll have to have a rematch with the fugitives for the proof of love! So you better find the passcode within an hour.”

We then move to the fugitives’ side as Cupid outlines their instructions. “Welcome to the Lover’s Race! Those of you who failed to become lovers and cannot take part in the race, you must become a fugitive and take part in the race. You, fugitives, throughout the hour of the race, will hold a card with an item written on it, go to the race location three times, ten minutes each, and run away from lovers. If the lover touches the fugitive, the item you're holding will be handed over to the lover immediately. If it requires the fugitive's help, he must do his best to help the lover. If the 10 minutes is up or you get your item taken, you'll go to the fugitives zone. You're not allowed to move until the next fugitive time.” The boys all nod as Cupid gives them the exact instructions about competing with the Lovers if they fail to open the proof of love in one hour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We had barely been 20 minutes into the adventure when a flurry of action began. Changbin searched high and low but came up empty-handed. Meanwhile, Felix and Changbin stumbled upon their skzoo plushies and decided to bring their skzoos along. Seungmin and Felix proved to be more adept at uncovering hints and clues.

As the excitement unfolded, the fugitives joined the race. Following their plan, Jeongin pursues Han, only to realize he can’t keep up. Desperate for help, he calls out to Changbin, only to find Changbin leisurely enjoying jelly alone.

As I observe the scene, I notice that some runners stealthily find hiding places while others(Chan) walk around carelessly. Suddenly, I notice Jeongin’s cameraman pointing the camera at Lee Know, who seems to have been caught. There is a sense of excitement as he calls out to the others, suggesting that he has found a hint, only to realize that it is a punishment. He accuses Lee Know of telling him it was a hint, only to have Lee Know correct him and say it was an item.

This went on for some time. The camerapersons did a fantastic job keeping up with them. I was in stitches, laughing so hard that I fell out of my chair a few times. A kind staff member had to help me back up! I had to dab at the tears to avoid smudging my makeup discreetly.

I would thank the staff for allowing me to do this afterward. I was confident the fans would be as thrilled about it as I was. In their interactions with the Lovers, Chan and Lee Know displayed their cleverness in various ways.

Not only did Chan trick Jeongin into thinking he had been caught, but he also played with Changbin after the latter lost his shoe while chasing Han. Their cunning actions added an intriguing dynamic to the situation. Lee Know was caught twice with punishment cards and even devised a plan to disrupt the Lovers before their time began.

Han was a whirlwind of chaos, darting between obstacles and concealed alcoves to evade the lovers. His heart pounded in his chest as he contemplated his next move, finally deciding to take a risk and sprawl on the ground, hoping to blend in with his surroundings and escape detection. His gamble paid off, to his surprise, and the lovers passed by him without a second glance.

During the game, Hyunjin displayed a great sense of humor. He was caught several times and impressively managed to hide in the first round for so long that when he was finally found, his time had already run out.

As for the "Lovers" team, they went above and beyond to uncover all the hidden clues. It was heartbreaking to see Changbin struggle to find any significant leads. Jeongin and Changbin pursued the runners while Seungmin and Felix meticulously combed through the area for hints. To everyone's surprise, Felix caught a runner a few times, and even Seungmin joined in the pursuit at one point.

By the end of the hour, the Lovers had only found hints for the first four numbers of the combination. They never saw the 5th hint. The first combination they put in was 24914 to celebrate Han’s birthday, and the second was 24915 for Felix’s birthday. When they pulled at the lock, it would not budge either time.

They found that the passcode was 24916, as Chan’s hint was the age at which he got his first license. After putting the code in, the lock finally opened.

Given that the Lovers did not succeed in their first two attempts, the lovers and the runners must travel to separate locations to determine whether to share the proof of love or keep it for themselves. If both teams opt to divide it, the proof of love will be evenly shared. However, if only one team chooses to keep it, that team will be granted the proof of love. If both teams decide to keep it for themselves, the proof of love will vanish.

Ultimately, the Lovers choose to possess it, while the runners decide to split it, meaning they take the proof of love. At this time, the staff takes me out of my hiding place and brings me closer to where the boys are. I wait until they end the filming before approaching.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I caught the staff asking the guys if they wanted to meet their actual host, and their faces were a mix of surprise and bewilderment. After nodding in agreement, they were asked to close their eyes. Hearing this, they sneak me in behind them.

Changbin eagerly inquired of the staff, "When can we open our eyes?” With a smile, I glanced at the cameras before replying, “Why don't you turn around and find out?” As the words escaped my lips, all the boys turned around in unison, their eyes widening in surprise. Suddenly, Felix dashed forward and seized me, spinning me around joyfully. Laughter bubbled up from within me, spilling out uncontrollably.

“OH MY GOD! IT’S YOU! IT’S REALLY YOU!!” Hyunjin yells out with excitement. After Felix gently places me back on the ground, I am immediately enveloped in someone else's embrace. I recognize the sound of Chan's infectious laughter and know that it's him. Each greets me uniquely, with Lee Know holding me tighter and promising to show me affection later. Felix keeps me close, and I find solace in his embrace, so I allow myself to lean into it.

I look at the camera, smiling, “Thank Y'all for watching, and I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. For more of these videos, click down in the description below. Until next time, bye!” I wave at the cameras, as do the guys. After getting the cue from the director that we were done, I let out a breath.

I turned to the guys and asked, "So, did you enjoy yourselves?" They all nodded, but Changbin looked at me as if I had lost my mind. "You put all this together?" he asked incredulously. I nodded in response. “It was mainly MNet. I just got to video myself and watch you boys create chaos.” I point to the rings on Felix’s fingers. “The eight rings symbolize the idea that each person was originally meant to have one. It's like a representation of sharing your ring with the person you love the most, similar to how true lovers would share their love.”

At this, recognition crossed their faces, and I couldn't help the smile on my face. “So, is this your new workplace?" Seungmin inquires. I nod in affirmation. "I intended to inform all the guys at the house. I've already mentioned to your boss that you can spend time with me if you are interested. Though I prefer that if you’re gonna ride with me,” I gesture to their clothes, “you’re going to have to change into clean clothes. I'm not letting you in if your clothes are wet.”

"Wait, so let me get this straight. You’re saying we get to chill at a house you've rented?" I deadpanned to Han, the disbelief evident in my voice. "Yes, Jisung, that’s exactly what I’m saying. It's going to be awesome! So, are you in?" Han replies with a grin and a nod. “I’m not waiting all day!” I say, turning to walk towards the director and hug him. “Thank you,” I gesture to all the staff who stopped loading their equipment back up, “all of you for letting me do this. It was truly a delight to work with you all.”

I had carefully retrieved the envelope I had discreetly placed nearby earlier. As I handed it to the director, I couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards the team for their hard work. "I wanted to express my sincere appreciation to all of you for making this experience unforgettable for me, Stray Kids, and our supporters," I said with genuine emotion. "Please, consider this as a token of my gratitude. I insist it's yours to keep. I sincerely hope to collaborate with all of you in the future." A warm smile spread across my face as the director accepted the envelope. He peered into the container and then turned to me, wearing a look of disbelief. "Y/N, you didn't have to go through all this trouble. You've often cooked for us – we don't need this. It's really too much."

“Regardless of the circumstances, this is for all of you. I understand the compensation you receive for creating these videos, and I wanted to provide a little something extra as a token of appreciation.” They graciously received the gift and wanted to collaborate with me again.

As I pivot, Chan looms behind me, wearing a mischievous smile. I haven’t had much time to assess the guys, but with Chan standing before me, it was hard to ignore the nervous energy flowing through my body. "What did you end up giving them?" I smile back and say, "Since I'm being paid extra for making my videos, I decided to give each of them 10 million won." I say it casually as if it's no big deal, but I can see the surprise on Chan's face as he processes what I just said. “Honey, that's quite a sum of money," I nod in agreement. "I understand, but they truly deserve it. Right from the start.”

As Chan pulls me close, a warm smile spreads across his face, and he gazes down at me. "You never cease to amaze me," he remarks. "First, I discovered that you've been here all along, and now you've astonished me and the others by being the brilliant mind behind all this. And now, you're graciously offering them additional money on top of what they're already earning. You're truly remarkable, my dear."

I hide my face in his chest, seeking a place to conceal the spreading of red across my cheeks. I meet his smiling gaze as he gently pulls my face away from his chest. I noticed his eyes drifting down to my lips, and suddenly, my body froze up, my brain sending signals to my heart to step back. As Chan starts to close the gap between us, Felix suddenly comes around the corner, causing Chan to step back instinctively. Doing so, I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding. Felix overlooked Chan's retreat as his face lit up with excitement upon seeing me.

"May I ride with you, Y/N Noona?" he asked hopefully. I couldn't help but smile and nod in response, "Yes, you may. Do you have your stuff?" I inquired. With a sense of determination, he lifted his bag to show me that he was all set. I gestured for him to follow me, and we made our way to my car together. I'm grateful that Felix appeared at that moment because it made me realize that not only had Lee Know kissed me just the day before, but Chan was also planning to do the same. However, he wouldn't do it before his fellow members as he stepped back.

Upon seeing Chan, I can't deny that I felt a strong attraction towards him. However, when I observed the expressions on both faces, it was as if neither knew of their interactions with me. "By the way, we had our clothes packed, but we didn't bring them. Do we need to go back and retrieve them?" I shake my head as Felix brings me back to the present. We returned to the car, and I loaded his belongings into the trunk. “They're delivering the bags to the house, and the cakes are already there. By the way, I put a lot of effort into making those cakes, so y’all better eat them.” We climb into the car, but Felix pauses and looks at me. “You made the cakes?”

He was an array of sunshine as I saw his eyes widen. I giggle and nod, “Yes, I spent too much time making those. I almost threw them off the roof from the frustration of putting frosting on them.” This makes him laugh, and I join him. “I will certainly enjoy it, especially if you make it.” I wave my hand in dismissal.

“When we return to the house, we'll have the opportunity to spend more time getting to know each other. Perhaps we'll discover shared interests and values that could lead to the development of meaningful friendships. It can be challenging to form connections when most of your time is spent in the confines of an office or an apartment.”

We laugh as we wait for the rest of the guys to come. I’m happy to have Felix to take my mind off the impending interaction that I know is bound to happen. Unless my gut is wrong, I can only hope that nobody gets into an argument while staying with me. Until then, Felix and I will make small conversions of our adoration for each other. I knew right then that Felix would be the best of friends.

(A/N: Soooooooooo, that happened lol. It was super long but I hope you enjoyed writing it! I'm hoping to continue the story up to a certain point before I ultimately run out of creative juices. Let me know your thoughts of the storyline so far!)

[coyotelip]

august 25th: light (touches) || james × everyone (partner unnamed) || @stag-microfic || wc: 455

James' hands were made for light touches.

That's not the first thought anyone would get from the sight of his wide palms, his expressive gestures and his firm grip when it comes to playing on the field. No one would think so if they saw him on detention in the library with a dozen books in his hands at a time.

But James' hands were made for lightly touching the skin of those he cares about.

His fingers barely feel on Remus's skin as James gently applies the magic salve on fresh scars and wounds after a bad moon. Remus can lie with his eyes closed and even forget about the boy at the edge of his bed, tenderly working on what will soon become new pale scars. Sometimes Remus thought it was James's guilt playing tricks on him, apologizing for the scars he had left last night with his magnificent antlers, but over time he realized that every cut or bite on his body received the same treatment.

No one on the outside would call anything between James and Sirius light, but little do they know of the nights Sirius faces nightmares that lead him to James's bed to hide under his warm side, a reminder of safety and unconditional love. No matter how much they may have fought or tugged at each other playfully during the day, on nights like this, James's touch is softer than any expensive silk fabric. They begin with the deep wrinkles on the boy's tense forehead, examining them one by one until Sirius relaxes enough to close his eyes again and fall asleep with the feel of James's fingers playing with his hair.

James's touch is light when he ties Peter's tie and straightens his untidy shirt collar. When he helps Mary take care of her first broom. When he takes turns dancing with all the girls at the holiday party, holding his hands respectfully high on his waist, barely touching.

James puts special tenderness and love into light touches on his lovers' naked skin. he starts with the legs, tracing each distinct bone. Holding the soft thighs with his palms, he presses them just a little to feel this softness and to evoke a reaction from his partner. He bypasses the most interesting part between the legs and moves on, tracing his fingers around the tiny navel, counting all the visible ribs, drawing circles around the hard nipples. He runs his thumb along the expressive collarbones, restraining himself from scratching under the chin in a cat-like manner, and finally reaches the lips that are slightly parted in anticipation.

James can spend hours giving his lovers' body his full attention, but first he has to kiss them.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

Pavitr and Gaytari anon back, I’ve kept thinking about Tricycle all week tbh. Since your requests are open, could I ask for a sequel to tricycle h.aha poking fingers?

(I hope you’ve been having good days as well!)

𝙈𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙨

Cw: fluff, poly!fem!reader x Pavitr Prabhakar x Gayatri Singh, probably inaccurate description of how the spider people spend their days off, the squad meeting Gayatri and Y/N

Notes: I'm delighted people were so receptive to that fic, I had a lot of fun writing it<3 thank you for your support!!

>Pavitr had of course told everyone about you two

>And while some were just touched by the deep affections of the lover boy, like Gwen or Jessica, others (Miguel) would appreciate if he shut up about his partners while important reunions

>"This is not the subject, please stop interrumpting, if it's so important to everyone to meet Pavitr's partners, please plan it outside of this and cut it"

>So the core four followed Miguel's advice and went to Mumbattan to meet the people his friend was always gushing about

>However, Pavitr had to find a good excuse to avoid telling you he was spiderman and explain where did he meet such a... Colorful group

>You and Gayatri knew he was Spiderman but honestly you wouldn't tell him, he's probably so proud he'd been able to keep it a secret:(

>So he said these are his work colleagues :3 you know, from the part time job he obviously has and always lines up with spiderman's public apparitions and never ever comes up? :3

>he's such a terrible liar omg

>"What do you think he means by work colleagues? More spidermans?" You asked, getting dolled up with your girlfriend for the meeting

>"Maybe, or maybe they're other heroes we don't know about" she uncapped the lipstick, a rich wine colour she bought for you so you could match (and kiss without the colour of your lipsticks clashing) "pucker up"

>you did as she said, waiting for the lipstick, but she gave you a quick peck on the lips before holding your chin and applying the product with a content smile

>You met your boyfriend on the park, like you scheduled

>You waved at his friends, and he leaped to hug you both

>"This is my girlfriend, Y/N, and this is my girlfriend's girlfriend, Gayatri, she's also my girlfriend" Pavitr announced, very proud

>Gayatri got along easily with Gwen, her undeniable kindness and accesible personality being great to ease Gwen's anxious first impression, Miles was also very outgoing, and asked a lot of questions about how you three met, and how you started dating

>Hobie wasn't as quick to start conversation, but it had a natural flow since it began

>You were very well received by his friends, but a couple hours of hanging out in, your boyfriend started to look at you with puppy eyes

>You were sitting close to Hobie, he was talking about his band and other things, you actively listened and made some comments, you felt something grab your hand, and saw Pavitr putting your palm in his face, cradling his face

>"It's alright everyone, I know they're wonderful, don't steal my girls away"

>Everyone laughed loudly, they've never seen Pav so legitimately upset over anything, and now he looks like a kicked dog

>"It's a'hight, we wouldn't, you'd threw yourself off a bridge if we did" Hobie said, only partially joking

>"It's getting late already anyway" Miles warned

>They agreed to leave, but Gwen lingered a few seconds on her goodbyes to you and Gayatri, Pavitr frowned and started moving his hands to signal her to leave

>"Challo, challo, you have work to do, we'll see each other" he said to his friends before they left, turning to you, and put each arm into your shoulders to hug you both tenderly, his hair tickled your face as he held you close, you and Gayatri held hands on Pavitr's back

>Gayatri let out a low, airy giggle, and you whispered reassuring words into your boyfriend's ear

>"I think we made a good first impression" your girlfriend winked at you with a sultry smile

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

play with fire

pairing: ethan landry x female!reader

WC: 1.7K

warnings: stabbing, blood mentions. should be it.

summary: intermission to act three

A/N: wrote this in one day so that may explain why it might suck and not make sense at parts. also had this song on repeat as i wrote and was inspire by the ethan edits that used this song. 

@alecmores 💗 (even tho they hate me for this one)

been in the drafts since may 6

masterlist / ethan landry

🎧 play with fire the red means i love you beast

the subway stations of new york were always packed and busy with rushing bodies, but with it being halloween, it was doubled and worse with people wearing costumes. many wearing the ghostface costume, and it felt like they all had eyes watching your little group of friends.

you are stuck near the back with ethan by your side and holding your hand. your group of seven was on the way back to the abandoned theater to lay a trap for ghostface and end this shit before more people die. you just gotta get through the next few stops in a crowded metal tub and hope you aren’t picked off one by one.

you could barely hear anyone over the loud talking and screeching of wheels. the crowds started to get thicker and your hand slowly slipped free from ethan. you stood still as your head swiveled left and right trying to spot his head of curls over the crowd. you pulled your phone from your back pocket and tried calling but you had no signal. with one more look around you finally spotted him with mindy who looked pissed by his mere existence, her guard never dropping around the boy, sticking to the thought of him being a ghostface.

you push past people, saying “excuse me” or “sorry” only a few times before not caring. you saw ethan’s head looking to where you saw mindy stalk towards and then his eyes looked around frantically.

you walked up behind him and grabbed his bicep. he jumped at the touch and turned around, his eyes alert, but melted away once he realized it was just you.

“was wondering where you went.” he pulled you into a hug. an excuse to have you close so as not to be separated again.

“where’s mindy?” ethan jerked his head to the left and you saw mindy who leaned forward and watched the two of you. you waved a hand for her to come back, but she shooed the two of you away. 

“what’s up her ass?” you grumbled. you felt the shake of ethan’s chest from his chuckle and could faintly hear the melody. “still thinks i’m ghostface.” he spoke beside your ear as he rubbed your back.

moving your face away from his chest, you looked up at ethan whose eyes dimmed just a little at the thought of his friend not trusting him. “well i don’t. and mindy is always judging people, it’s the ‘horror expert’ thoughts.” 

ethan flashed a quiet smile, it was there and now it’s gone. you tugged his chin with two fingers before pulling him in for a distracting kiss. as you pulled away you kissed the tip of his nose before turning in his arms, back to his chest. the two of you, plus mindy, just waiting for the next train.

it finally pulled up after a few minutes and you moved with the crowd. mindy continued to stay away from both of you and you narrowed your eyes toward her. “isn’t it best to stick together?” you would have asked her if you could move without someone elbowing your ribs. ethan and you weren’t too far from mindy who leaned against a door as she stared down at her phone. ethan held the metal bar that was attached to the ceiling while you stood in front of his chest with your hand grasping the metal pole beside you.

everyone was swaying with the momentum of the train going and then stopping. some people would get off then more people would crowd the small space. you could barely see mindy at this point and you still had multiple stops to make. you leaned your head on ethan’s chest and focused on his heartbeat, it sped up just a bit and you smiled tenderly.

“i wish you stayed home.” you heard ethan beside your ear. his tone was a bit strained.

with a tilt of your head, you stared into his eyes. his honey-brown, homey eyes. made your insides melt like ice cream on a hot summer day and your legs turn to jelly. “if we stick together, our chances are higher. plus, i can’t leave you. rather get a few cuts and bruises than worry a hole into my floor about your well-being.”

you let your free hand play with ethan’s curls. his eyes closed at the sensation, at your touch. you loved the pull, the power you had over him. the hand moved from his brown tresses and slid to hold his cheek in your palm. pushing up on your tiptoes and dipping your eyes to his lips, ethan closed the distance. he let go of his backpack strap and slipped it around your waist and tugged you in closer.

noses were pressed to cheeks, lips were getting slick with spit and hands were leaving burning touches. you hummed into ethan’s mouth as he got a bit brave and moved his tongue into your mouth. you snaked your arm around his neck and locked him in place, not wanting the moment to end anytime soon.

you saw the flickering of light behind your closed lids and even with your hearing picking bits of ethan’s moans, you could tell no one would hear a thing. releasing the pole, you wrapped your fingers around the sturdy handle and slipped the knife from your pocket slowly. you made sure to keep the weapon concealed as you decided to take a breath.

glistening lips only an inch away, breaths fanning over the skin and smiles beaming, and eyes shining like stars in an open sky. you kept ethan close. “i love you.” you whispered, but knew he heard you.

“i love you too. can’t wait for this to be over.” and ethan moved back in.

you smiled into the kiss as did your boyfriend. it did have to end, but you wish the relationship didn’t. all part of the plan though as you reminded yourself from backing out.

with ethan distracted, you took the plunge and sunk the gleaming knife into his abdomen. you heard his gasp and felt his mouth move. you made sure to keep him enclosed with your arm still tight behind his neck as you swallowed his grunts of pain.

“it’s okay. it’s okay, baby. the worst hasn’t even happened yet. just breathe.” whispered to his ear as you pushed his head onto your shoulder. you felt his arm flex and his hand grabbing the material of your shirt.

“y/n…” your name was a cry from his mouth. the one you kissed just a second ago. you had to shut the sound from your mind. “i wouldn’t scream for help. kinda noisy.” a hard edge to your voice before dropping it and switching back to airy and light.

“you know,” you kept talking to continue the look of a normal couple being sickly in love on the subway, “you were supposed to die in the apartment, but i couldn’t do it. i love you way too much for you to go in a brutal way. plus i wanted to spend our last moments together and in fantasy.” you petted his hair.

you tugged the knife upward, ripping his stomach open. ethan’s groans of pain were muted by the chatter and music playing from a radio. you placed kiss after kiss to his temple. wanting him to know that you cared for him deeply, but the plan always came first.

“i’m sorry, ethan. you weren’t originally part of the plan, but then anika changed her mind. some bullshit about how if her love interest dies, mine should as well.” you rattled away. you made a pass of the car, no one was paying you any mind. not even mindy.

“now,” your voice dropped lower, “you may be wondering, ‘why are y/n and anika ghostface?’ well simply put, boredom… maybe a psychotic.” at the word psychotic, you twisted the knife and you groaned as ethan sank his teeth into your shoulder.

“it’s fine, baby.” nails scraping his scalp, “i know you hate me, i know. and i understand. i would hate me too. i just want you to know,” turning your face closer with your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “our whole relationship… it was one hundred percent real. every kiss, every touch. every word i moaned in bed or shouted when drunk. the whole nine yards.”

your eyes got teary and the people around you got blurry. your heart ached, felt like it was starting to sink to your stomach. while your brain was telling you to man up and finish the job. you slammed your eyes shut and heaved a shaky sigh. you didn’t want the lecture from anika about weakness.

“y/n…” ethan’s breath skated over your neck. you just hummed as you rubbed his shoulder blades. “i’m just… disappointed.” his chest was heaving with each word. “but i still… love you.”

the announcer prepared everyone for the stop. with tears sliding down your cheeks you noticed an empty bench behind the two of you. with ethan leaning on you, you pushed both of your bodies backward until his knees bent and he slumped down. you sat on his lap to cover the knife and blood staining his blue polo.

“i have to meet our friends at the theater. don’t want to be late for the big show.” lips meet his moist forehead. “i have to pull the knife out just before the stop. but if you would just allow me…”

you tilted ethan’s face back to yours. his skin was losing a bit of color and his lips were being stained a light red from the blood pooling in his mouth. “one more kiss?” you dived in before ethan gave a nod or a noise. your smooth lips clashed with his that was beginning to pool with blood. you moaned at the taste and scent. fingers curling tight in his coils.

the loud screeching of wheels was followed by the sway of bodies. and then you heard the swoosh of the doors opening and the thundering of multiple footsteps. you yanked the knife out and pushed off ethan’s lap. joining the swarm of moving bodies and blending into the crowd even though you guessed mindy still wasn’t paying any mind. you couldn’t help the smirk that appeared out of thin air when you thought of the fate she was about to meet at the hands of quinn. you immediately headed out the exit and up the steps.

time for act three.

...

tags: @astrxq

[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

[seivsite]

BEYOND THE SCRIPT.

includes: blade x fem!reader. he’s called ren here, spoilers for blade’s lore, semi hurt/comfort, coworkers to lovers, reader’s shorter than blade for plot, ooc elio, unedited — wc: 916

“Ren~♡,” she called out, her voice filled with longing, as she watched his retreating figure. “Hey, don’t ignore me! Remember, Elio paired us together in his script. It’s not just about you!” The woman hurriedly caught up, her hands clasped behind her back, leaning in eagerly, hoping to catch a glimpse of Blade’s face.

“Well, we finished ahead of schedule, so I suppose we can return to the ship now, right?” Blade inquired, his gaze fixed straight ahead, not bothering to look at the girl.

“Hmm, but I’d much rather savour some alone time with you~” she purred, gracefully stepping in front of him, causing Blade to come to an abrupt halt.

Blade’s hands fumbled in his pockets, desperately trying to maintain an unaffected demeanour, yet beneath his stoic facade, a shy blush threatened to surface from their close proximity. “What do you want?” he sighed, fully aware that she would persist until she got what she desired.

“May I have a kiss?” she asked innocently, tilting her head with a touch of coquettishness. He sighed once more, sensing the sudden shift in her demeanour, presumably prompted by his swift acquiescence.

“Fine.”

“Eh? You’re not going to ‘kill’ me? You never agree this quickly. Are you feeling alright, Ren?” she inquired, extending her hand to touch his forehead and check his temperature. He delicately withdrew her hand from his face, observing her reaction. She merely hummed, and he found himself still holding her hand.

“Ren, could you bend your knees a bit? I can’t reach you,” she pouted, paying no heed to the fact that their hands remained intertwined. Blade gazed down at her before complying, bending his knees slightly. Then, he felt the gentle caress of her hand on his head. “You’re being so obedient,” she remarked, her hand continuing to tousle and play with his flowing locks.

“I am not obedient; I see you as beneath me,” Blade asserted, refusing to budge from his position as he savoured the sensation her hands provided. “Oh, who’s a good boy?” (Name) playfully taunted, shifting her hand to scratch his chin. Blade could only glare at her, which only brought a satisfied smile to her face.

“How adorable,” she remarked, leaning in and pressing her lips against his, relishing in the way he momentarily froze in response. Blade could feel her smile against his lips, and though he couldn’t fully comprehend the emotions he was experiencing, he found himself enjoying them. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss. “What is this?” he began.

“What is ‘what’, Ren?” she asked, cradling his cheeks tenderly, a rosy hue gracing them.

“This... this feeling, it’s as if my heart is about to burst from my chest. Am I destined to perish once more? What have you done to me?” he confessed. Although these unfamiliar sensations stirred within him, he couldn’t deny the absence of hatred.

Suddenly, Blade heard (Name) release a gentle laugh. Puzzled, he tilted his head, locking eyes with her, and was entranced by the kindness and tenderness reflected in her gaze. He couldn’t fathom himself deserving of such affection.

“That, my dear, is what you call love,” she stated, cradling him with such gentleness that it nearly brought tears to his eyes. It had been ages since he had felt such profound love and adoration from another soul. Experiencing it once more felt surreal to him.

“Yingxing,” he uttered, leaving (Name) slightly perplexed. “Hmm?” she responded, her voice tinged with confusion.

“Please, call me Yingxing,” he implored, softly pulling her closer and enfolding her in a tender embrace. She hesitated for a moment, uncertain of his motives, before reciprocating the affection.

“Alright, Yingxing,” she acquiesced.

His request ignited a surge of passion within him, prompting him to initiate a fervent kiss. With a delicate touch, he held her waist and caressed her neck, pulling her closer. (Name) responded in kind, her fingertips gently gripping his cheeks. In that timeless moment, they reluctantly separated, both gasping for air. Their dishevelled clothes and tousled hair testified to the intensity of their kiss.

“Well, have you finally realised your love for me, Yingxing?” she playfully teased. Blade could only manage a nod, his face flush with embarrassment from his bold actions. He rested his head on her shoulder, seeking solace. (Name) tenderly patted his head, suggesting that it was time to return. Without hesitation, they embarked on their journey back.

“Welcome back, lovebirds,” Kafka said, grinning mischievously as she glanced at (Name) and Blade, who had just returned to the ship, their hands entwined.

“Took you long enough,” Silverwolf chimed in with a playful smirk. “I was just about ready to set sail without you two.”

“Hehe, I guess we got a little carried away,” (Name) admitted, her cheeks flushed with a tinge of embarrassment as she sheepishly rubbed the back of her head.

“Kafka, it appears you owe me a few bucks,” Elio suddenly appeared out of thin air, interrupting the moment. “Fine, fine, you win the bet.”

There was a pregnant pause, followed by a collective sigh of resignation.

“You guys might want to start running,” (Name) warned, a glint of mischief in her eyes as she observed Blade’s simmering anger.

And so, (Name) and Silverwolf settled in to watch the chaos unfold, their eyes glued to the spectacle of Blade chasing after Elio and Kafka with an intensity that could rival a raging storm. Silverwolf even ran out of popcorn, a casualty of the uproarious chase that ensued.

NOTES. inspired by a tiktok i saw tee hee, hope u liked it

TAG LIST. @yanqingisim

LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! ‹3

[walker-bait-1973]

The Apple Orchard

A Daryl Dixon x Reader (Fem. Reader) Fanfiction

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Author's Notes: A pregnant woman was taken in by Hilltop. Right away she built a friendship with the crossbow-wielding archer, Daryl Dixon. They'd grown close while she went through the months, and after her son was born a month early, Daryl had taken a shine to the little bundle. Now the child, Hunter is 16 months & still behind on his benchmarks - the main one being talking. Maybe all it takes is a little extra lovin' to bring him out of his shell.

Master List

The rows of apple trees in the orchard were loaded with fruit. Y/N set Hunter down so that they could walk together.

“I think the grass is nearly taller than you!” Y/N smiled proudly down at her son. 16 months and he was walking. Y/N’s relationship had grown with Maggie. Her son Hershel made big impressions on Y/N’s child. He wanted to walk because Hershel was walking. Hunter wanted to keep up.

“Do you want to pick apples, Hunter? I can cut them into slices or make us some applesauce.”

Hunter, still not talking, smacked his lips together and sucked on his fingers. Slowly lifting him, she reached for the closest apple, twisting it off the branch. Wiping it on her pants to shine it up, she handed it to her son who licked it. She laughed, “silly boy. Good thing they’re organic.”

“Hey Y/N, Hunter, y’all pickin’ apples?” Daryl entered the lane with a picking basked filled.

“Daryl, hey,” she smiled up at him, “yeah, getting some fresh air.”

“He say anthin’ today?” He smoothed Hunter’s curly hair. She shook her head.

Daryl squeezed her shoulder, “he will…” his hand sliding down to hold hers. He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, “listen to me Y/N,” he whispered, “he will talk. Probably already knows how. Just choosin’ his own time.”

She tightened her lips. Hunter held his hands out to Daryl grunting. Daryl smiled and stretched out his arms, “come on then lil’ man.” Y/N handed him over. He placed his lips against the small child’s cheek and blew raspberries on it. Hunter laughed, rubbing Daryl’s chin length hair. Daryl said, “can’t forget the other one.” Hunter turned his head and Daryl playfully attacked that one. Giggles were contagious. Y/N and Daryl chuckled while Daryl lifted him up to place him on his shoulders, “hold on, okay Hunter?” Hunter’s fingers went into Daryl’s hair, his tiny arms holding Daryl’s head. They were about to start walking, but Y/N bent to pick up the basket of apples.

“Naw, leave it there. I’ll get it after,” he remarked holding onto Hunter’s legs.

“Okay.”

The air was full of the smell of Autumn, dry leaves, apples. The Barrington house had a fire burning, which they could smell.

“Like your sweater,” Daryl commented nonchalantly. Y/N smiled, looking down at her emerald- green fuzzy sweater.

“Yeah?” She smiled demurely as she gauged him from the corner of her eye.

“Yeah… a lot.”

Y/N grinned, “thank you.”

Hunter nuzzled his face into Daryl’s hair before resting his cheek on the top of his head.

“Dada.” He closed his green eyes. Daryl stopped dead in his tracks. Shock surged through him. Y/N whirled around looking at her son, and then at Daryl. Daryl’s cheeks were bright pink.

“Uh…” he couldn’t think of what to say.

Y/N peered up at her son who was holding on so tenderly to Daryl, her eyes wetting. Her son had finally said his first word!

“Dada.”

“I… I ain’t your dada, Hunter,” Daryl finally spoke faintly. He looked at Y/N for assistance. She sputtered for an answer.

Pausing, Y/N’s head leaned slightly to one side, her heart thumping like a drum in her chest. A chord struck within her. Her feelings of friendship had grown into something deeper. Low in her stomach fluttering of little butterflies came to life.

Hunter grew fond of the man too. Daryl spent his free time walking over to talk to Hunter, playing with him, and holding him when they were outdoors. During meetings with Y/N or when they were in Maggie’s office, Hunter was often after Daryl to hold him. He liked sitting at the desk scribbling on a piece of old paper and listening to Daryl’s voice as he dozed.

 “Say mama, Hunter.”  Y/N tried to encourage him with soft instruction.

Hunter rubbed his cheek into Daryl’s hair, “dada.”

“What do I do, Y/N?” Daryl asked, his voice low.

“I’ll try to work on mama with him, like I have been.”

Daryl’s heart was swelling. He chewed his lower lip. Here was this sweet little boy who had so many cards already stacked against him, whose mother tugged at Daryl’s heartstrings calling him dada.

“I-I don’t know,” she confessed, “this isn’t something I thought… I didn’t think he’d… He- he sees you all the time, maybe he thinks…” she pointed between them, her cheeks burning bright.

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other. This little boy had his heart not long after he first saw him. The more time he spent with him, the more he felt a part of his life. Hunter took to him quickly and would often snuggle into Daryl as if expressing the need for masculine love.

“I’ve heard,” she scrambled to fix the situation, “dada is easier to say than mama.”

Daryl cocked an eyebrow, where did ya hear that?”

“Maybe from other moms.”

Daryl scoffed. He lifted Hunter up, bringing him to the front of him. The little boy was reaching for Daryl’s hair fussing, “there’s no way you’re gonna say Daryl anytime soon, eh, Hunter?”

He brought him in for a little hug. Hunter grabbed some of his hair to rub along his face.

“He really thinks a lot of you, Daryl.” Y/N was confounded. What do you do in a situation like this? She reached for Daryl’s hand, “come on, let’s keep walking. Maybe he will settle down.”

“True.” His eyes locked on hers. He swallowed hard as his fingers entwined with hers. He tucked his free arm around the little boy as he started to doze.

“We gotta talk about this.”

“I know.”

“But he did speak,” Daryl smiled from ear to ear.

[multi-fandoms-posts]

A sweet moment

X Men Masterlist

X Men Masterlist 2

Michael and James stand facing each other in suits, their ties slightly askew as they try to finalize preparations for the big event. You're sitting on a small sofa in the room, watching the two of them with a smile. They have that special dynamic between them, a blend of playfulness and seriousness that fascinates you.

“Are you sure this is right?” Michael asks with a slight frown as he tugs at James’ tie to straighten it.

James raises an eyebrow and gives him an amused look. “I'm pretty sure I know how to do this, Fassbender.”

You chuckle softly to yourself as you observe the scene. There’s rarely a moment when they’re not teasing each other or challenging one another. But just as you can’t hold back your quiet laughter any longer, both of them turn to you simultaneously.

“Oh, you find this amusing?” Michael asks with a crooked grin.

“I just think it’s sweet how you two always fix each other up,” you reply with a smile.

James releases Michael and turns to you, taking a few steps closer. “Sweet, you say? I’d say we’re very... focused,” he says with a wink before sitting next to you on the sofa.

Before you can respond, James leans in and presses a gentle kiss on your lips. His lips are soft and warm, and you immediately feel the familiar closeness he always brings. “Focused, huh?” you murmur as he leans back slightly.

Michael, having watched the whole thing, just grins and comes over to you as well. “Well, since we’re on the topic of kisses…” he says, sitting on your other side. His hand gently lifts your chin, and he leans in to give you a kiss, a bit more intense than James’s. You feel your heart race as his lips press against yours, and you lean into him slightly, savoring the moment.

When Michael finally pulls back, he glances over at James. “You know I can kiss her better than you, right?”

James chuckles softly. “I doubt that.”

“Really?” Michael raises an eyebrow and leans back toward you, as if to prove his point. But before he can kiss you again, you hold both of them back with a smile.

“Hey, boys,” you say, looking back and forth between them. “I don’t mind, but I’m not sure if this is the right moment to start a competition.”

James wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. “There’s always time for kisses.”

“He’s right,” Michael agrees, leaning forward to give you another kiss on the forehead before gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You shake your head, smiling. “You two are truly incredible.”

The two men exchange an amused glance before turning back to you almost in sync. James tenderly strokes your cheek with his fingers before giving you another gentle kiss on the lips. “Maybe, but you love it,” he says softly, his lips close to yours.

Michael places his hand on your hip, gently pulling you toward him. “And we love you,” he adds, pressing his lips to your temple.

You close your eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of their closeness and the tenderness of their touches. “I love you both too,” you murmur, leaning back slightly to look at them. “But we really should get going now, right?”

James laughs softly and stands up, extending his hand to help you up. “Yes, you’re right. A big event is waiting for us.”

Michael stands as well, adjusting his tie once more and winking at you. “But after the event…” he begins, letting the sentence hang in the air while giving you a meaningful look.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. “After the event, yes, we’ll talk more.”

With those words, you set off, hand in hand, as the cold night air brushes against you, yet the warmth of the kisses and their closeness lingers, a silent promise for later.