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littlenahsstuff · 3 months ago

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hii! Can you please do Rio Vidal x fem reader? Witb the enemies to lovers plot pleaseee, maybe where y/n is also a witch and they start a fight but at the end start making out? Similar to the scene with Agatha from the 1st episode

Up to No Good

Sorry these requests are taking so long!

This is a shopkeepers AU

Warnings: Like one Major Spoiler!!! for Agatha All Along, sickness, a little bit of vomiting, Reader is going through it! Not proofread so ignore the plot holes and mistakes.

Synopsis: Rio is the annoying shop-owner next to yours. She’s constantly bothering you and making your life a living hell but you can’t deny you have feelings for her. What happens when you find out not everything is as it seems.

Word count: ~4k

There you were, standing outside, gawking at the new store next to yours. It was massive compared to your tiny shop. You almost couldn’t believe someone would have the gall to put it there, but you could see why they were confident. This new shop had everything you had and more. It was pure madness. This new witch, Rio, wasn’t someone to be messed with. She had basically set up shop overnight.

You were frantic, it was the end of her first week in Salem and you had only gotten ten customers. Sure there were window shoppers, but they quickly moved on to the next one when they saw the floating lamps and the books that turned themselves in Rios display.

It got to the point where you had to rent out your apartment while you slept in the back room of your store.

Back at your store, you were lost in thought, trying to come up with cost-effective ways of advertising and special merchandise that could draw others in. You didn’t notice the bell ring, signaling someone had entered.

“Um, hello?” You had nearly fallen off your step-ladder.

You grab the shelf to steady yourself and step down. “Oh hi there, s-sorry about that. How can I help you?” You look up and are almost knocked off your feet again at the sight of the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen. She had piercing eyes, rich dark hair and all around looked like a goddess.

“Well, I was just scoping the store out. Not sure I need anything though,” she smiles at you. You return it.

“Just let me know if you need help. We have anything from talismans to herbs. Everything is locally and/or humanely sourced,” you say, setting down the last of the stock. You brush off the invisible dust on your apron.

The woman hums… “Tell me more about the store,” she decides. You contemplate what you could possibly tell this gorgeous woman.

“Well, it was given to me my grandmother. It was originally just a ‘holistic’ store but now that everyone’s more accepting of witches in Salem, I changed the name. I want to make her proud, she taught me everything I know. I love my job,” you finish with a smile. She returns it. The more you look at her the more you see something sneaky in her stare. She has a mischievous glint.

“What a story. I feel like I should buy something now. Makes me want to make your grandma proud too,” she smirks, roaming around the store.

“Well you don’t have to but I’m certainly not saying no. Have a look at anything. If you’re interested in the item but are wondering if we have it in a different color we definitely do,” you chirp. You yourself make your way to the counter. You can’t help but feel giddy.

You watch as her eyes light up. You can’t see what she’s bringing up to the counter but from the looks of it it’s one of your custom sigil pendants.

“Here, I’ll take this,” she holds it out. You can definitely tell she’s flirting now, the rune she picked was a love rune and she shows it to you with a wink.

“Oh, got anyone… special, you plan to use this for? Like maybe a spouse or an estranged sibling. Any kind of love really,” you note, ringing it up. She smirks.

“Well, I’ve got my eye on someone I’ve recently met,” she purrs. You blush, not wanting to read into it just in case but flustered simply from hope.

“Oh nice” you say.

She frowns, still with a playful glint harbored in her eye. “Unfortunately,” she takes the rune, “I gotta go back to my own shop.” Your eyes widen.

“Oh you own one too? That’s cool… cool! Um, see you around?” You hate to admit how much it sounds like a plea. She gives you a nod and leaves. You could swear she’s exaggerating the sway of her hips. “Bye,” you murmur.

“Bye.”

You can’t help but watch to see in the direction she goes, thinking maybe her shop is close by. And you’re right it is, but much to your surprise, she walks right into your biggest competitors shop.

“That bitch!” You grit out.

***

It’s been another week of poor sales and you’re getting nervous. The stress, coupled with you having to sleep it in the back on the floor has been horrible on your back. There’s a resentful part of you that believes Rio came in here to mess with you. It certainly seems so with the fact she’s come in about 3 other times. You curse yourself for getting so worked up about it but you literally told her about your fucking grandmother. You were only a simple potions witch, you couldn’t magic up money like some of the other witches out there. Hell, Rio probably could. Stupid sexy Rio.

As if she could sense you were thinking of her she walks in smug.

“Howdy neighbor,” she tromps in like she fricking owns the place. Your gut boils at the fact she very well could in less than a year if you can’t figure out a way to fix this mess.

“What do you want Rio…” you say. Her eyes widen as much as her grin does.

“Thought I’d come by to check on my new best friend.” Her tone is almost sadistic. You scoff.

“Sure best friend. Just remember that when you’re in my store you can’t do anything funny,” you spit out. Her hands go up in surrender, but her face remains smug.

“Of course, I can let you be in control,” she says it low, something that makes your heart beat uncomfortably fast.

“Whatever… how’s it going with the love rune, I’m sure they’re charmed,” you exaggerate, stretching your words.

Rio puts the back of her hand to her forehead and leans backwards dramatically with a drawn out sigh.

“Alas, I don’t believe it’s achieved its purpose quite yet. It will; now’s just not a good time.” You fight the urge to role your eyes but it’s replaced by a yawn. Rio returns to her normal position and stares at you.

“Did princess not get enough beauty sleep,” she coos, pouting.

“I’m fine. I hope whatever your situation is works out so you don’t have to bore yourself with little old me.” You don’t mean it truly but boy do you need a little alone time without a failed crush gloating via very annoying body language.

“Nonsense, our little chats are entertainment to me.” She says. You grunt.

“Righttt, okay you do know I can kick you out if you don’t buy anything right?” Your brow arches. She laughs.

“Of course, I’m a shop owner too. You know that silly,” she boops your nose and you fight the rage coming over you. “Oh my god you’re cute.”

“Get out!” You growl, pointing at the door. You feel like ripping some of your hair out at this point. And Rio can tell, she’s just biting her perfect lip enjoying your frustration and it just infuriates you more. “No seriously you need to leave!” You throw your arms in the air and regret it, the twinge in your back making you wince. Rios smile falters ever so slightly.

“Didn’t mean to make you so worked up,” she chuckles. You sigh and put one hand on your back and the other pinching your nose.

“Just- I need to go get something in the back, please have left before I come back,” you (and Rio) hate how defeated you said that. Rio never feels bad for being her fun self… but, she might not feel great about this. You leave slowly to the back, cracking the door. Once Rio hears the telltale sound of a pill bottle she decides she should give you space.

When you come back out you’re a little confused at the pang you get in your chest when you don’t see her.

***

You were miserable, sick and miserable. But, the show must go on.

Time flew by in some increments and went painfully slow in another. You were debating closing the store today but your most recent electricity bill told you that isn’t a good idea.

Since it was the weekend you made a whole 20 sales, something you were extremely proud of. You were surprised too, considering you felt absolutely disgusting and maybe a little loopy. Perhaps it was the new promotion deal you worked on.

You decided to stock the merchandise that was selling the fastest, and of course once you turn your back that’s when the viper strikes.

“Hey bestie!” A voice rings out. You whip around and get dizzy, stumbling. Rio steadies you. “Woah there.”

“R-Rio?” You say.

“You don’t look so good there Y/n, maybe you should take a b-“

“No!” You interrupt, “I’m doing so well today you can’t stop me now you little devil,” you sneer. She chuckles. It’s supposed to come out threatening but your stuffy nose doesn’t exactly help you achieve that. Rio smiles.

“Well, not exactly. And I certainly understand why, you’re practically giving away free merchandise.” She says, tilting her head.

You puff out your chest with pride. “Yeah well I buy one get two for five deal will do that.” Rio pats your shoulder.

“Oh, uh, honey, your deal out front says buy one get five for two.” Your eyes widen and you scramble outside. Sure enough she’s right. After inspecting the writing it clearly wasn’t tampered. It seems that you weren’t even paying attention and you didn’t notice. You put it in the system as five for two as well.

“No no no no no!” You screech, taking down the sign. “Shit, oh my god. How did I- how did I not notice! No wonder people came up to me with so many friggan candles.” You run your hands in your hair. And go back inside, putting the closed sign up.

“Maybe you should sit down.” You agree and put your head in your hands with a groan.

“Are you here to gloat?” You ask, afraid of making eye contact.

“No… do you seriously not have anyone to help you run the store?” She asks coming closer to you. You shake your head. While you’re looking away you miss the genuine concern on her face. Without asking permission, Rio holds the back of her hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up, where do you keep your illness remedial potions? Have you even taken anything?” Her questions make you feel dizzy and you genuinely feel like you’re gonna vomit.

“Third shelf up to the right by the window,” you say drowsily. You’re too out of it to see the way Rio rushes to get it. The pain in your forehead seems to grow with each passing minute. The pain relievers for your back have stopped doing their job but you can’t remember the last time you took one regardless. She comes back. You gag as she hands it to you but you push it away and grab the trash can. Rio winces as you vomit.

“Oh shit…” she says. “Y/n as your bestie I got to say, I’m a little worried about you not taking care of yourself.” Her voice is abnormally soft. You can’t help but cry, partially due to the burning in your throat, partially due to the pent up emotions and the fact that the person making your life hell is being so nice to you.

“Why, why are you being so nice, you should be having a blast. Just my luck,” you hurl again, “Business has been really bad and on my good day I’m violently ill. It’s still objectively bad too, five months ago I’d get 20 sales before noon. And all of it’s because I fucked up.” Rio is stunned, she’s never been good with many emotions but she feels awful and knows she has to do at least something. She holds your hair back. She’s regretting this elaborate plan.

“Hey, hey. It’s gonna be okay. You’re clearly in a lot of pain right now, you don’t deserve to be mocked at all.” And her words only make you feel worse. If you think about it, she’s never been a hundred percent awful at you. You actually really really liked her up until you found out who she was. It was her business that was causing all these problems.

“I’m sorry, you should go. You- I can take care of myself,” you sigh. Everyday it looks like you’re gonna have to sell the store more and more. You’re terrified. You think that it’s all your fault that you took your grandmothers beautiful store and ruined it. You were a shit witch, and shit at your job in your opinion. Rio bit her lip and stared at you.

“No, no… tell you what. I’ll leave you alone but you have to promise me that you’ll take care of yourself. And your grandmother is so proud of you. She says so all the time.” She says and you’re mostly grateful. The pang in your chest returns again at the thought of you leaving. You realize she said something weird though.

“What, my grandmother is dead… are you also a medium which? I thought you were a green witch?” You say, picking up your head.

She looks to the side and let’s go of your hair. “Um… sure, let’s go with that. Anyways, I’ll leave you to it,” she stands up, “and take care of yourself missy.” She finishes in her usual mocking tone. She leaves out the door soon after.

Your left there confused before you see the potion. You remember you need to take it and you down it, gagging at the flavor.

“I have got to invest in flavor drops.” You say.

***

It’s been awhile since you’ve seen Rio. Her store’s also been closed for a couple of days. You should be ecstatic but you have to admit it’s been lonely without her popping in to bother you. On the bright side business was back to usual and you were making enough money to actually pay your bills again, the renters check wouldn’t come until next week but you might have enough to spring for an actual mattress.

You were honestly worried about Rio, worried you made her feel so uncomfortable she’d avoid you forever. You couldn’t sleep because of this thought and stumbled out of the back room in the dark. You managed to crash into a mop bucket and trip into one of your shelves causing it to crash and for all of your potions to shatter.

“Fuck!” You yell, you try and get to the light and manage to cut your foot.

Rio didn’t have to sleep, she stayed late at the shop looking over everything over and over. She was getting bored when she heard the crash coming from your shop. She quickly runs out the door to your shop, thinking someone broke in. She doesn’t need you having any more problem. She feels awful for the ones she caused. The door unlocks with a waive of her hand and just as she opens the door you flick on the light showing everything in its chaos.

“Uh, hi,” you awkwardly chuckle, wincing at the sting of your cut and the bruises that were already forming. “Good to see you”

Rio stands in confusion at the sight of your limping form in your tank top and lacy sleep shorts. She has to fight the urge to lick her lips.

“Are you…. Are you sleeping in your store?” She asks and you sigh, dropping the awkward smile.

“Yeah, I had to rent out my apartment on extremely short notice and now I live in the back room.” You have no clue why you’re being so honest but you really need to sit down as standing on your one foot is getting really tiring.

“Crap, you’re hurt,” she notices (originally it was because she was taking her eyes over you in your skimpy sleepwear glory) and goes over to you. She casts a spell and heals your injury. She waves her hand to get rid of the mess too and any other glass.

“Thanks.” You say. A beat of silence passes. “Why are you here?” You ask, suspicious.

“Well I thought someone was breaking and entering and I can’t have my bestie getting robbed. You roll your eyes, silently grateful she’s back.

“Alright. Um thanks. Yeah…” you trail. Now that she’s in front of you, you decide enough is enough. You have to tell her the truth. “I don’t want to put you on the spot but business has been really bad up until you closed your shop for the past few days. So- I live here now. I can manage into next month but I might have to sell the store. I guess what I’m asking is- would it be possible to get a job at your store when I do?” You felt awful about asking her for this, and you fully expect her to say no. She gives you a smile.

“I’m um, I’m actually closing the store.” She suddenly says and your eyes go wide. You stammer in protest,

“W-wait why? What about your employees!? You’re not moving away are you?” Your concern makes her smile bigger, confusing you more.

“Well… to tell you the truth I didn’t need it at all and it was interfering with my actual job.” She admits, enjoying the puzzled look on your face.

“What actual job?” She isn’t quite sure how to approach it, nevertheless, she tries.

“I’m death. I know it sounds ridiculous but I’m actually death, that’s me.” She says. A grin breaks out on her face.

“You’re joking” you start laughing and while she loves your laugh she’s not joining and you stop. “You- YOU’RE DEATH!” She waves her hands.

“Surprise! Um yeah, anyways, so funny story actually. Remember when I said your grandmother talked about you all the time. Well basically… we’re besties too,” she sees the shock on your face grow bigger and bigger. She’s about to make it worse.

“You know her, as in you took her once she died and you became best friends?” You interrogate. It doesn’t make much sense. She rolls her eyes.

“It’s not like I killed her and she’s funny. She basically talked the world of you. And she was worried about you, said you were lonely single and sad” Rio pouts briefly before her grin returns, “so she sent me. And I personally agree with her. But I’m single too so I thought I could do something about it.”

Your head is reeling, Rio is death and the only good thing about this is that your grandmother is happy (for the most part) and that the crush you’ve been trying to ignore because she’s been destroying your life reciprocates.

“Let me get this straight… you are ‘besties’ with my grandma. And you heard all about me, including the fact I’m single and you decided to run me out of my fucking house and almost my business. That’s not gonna get me to like you back and I don’t exactly think my grandmother appreciates that!” You yell, pacing back and forth. “It doesn’t fucking make sense!” You let out a huff.

Rio wants to be patient but she’s getting a wee agitated too. “Well in my defense she told me you like romcoms and I wanted to make a big impact. I wasn’t aware that I was so good at it, I hated running the store!” She crosses her arms as you still pace.

“No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get an ‘in my defense,’” you mock in a high-pitched tone, “This store was my baby. I don’t care if you didn’t like running yours and it was for a twisted sick romcom move. You saw what it was doing to me, maybe not all of it but you did. How could you honestly think I’d like you. How!?” At this point if the crash didn’t wake your neighbors then your screams did. You didn’t care, you were hurt, and so confused.

“Look I’m sorry okay! I’ve quite literally never told anyone I’m sorry for anything but I am. It was wrong of me and I let it get way out of hand. I used my magic way too much and rather than it being a cute little competition I got sucked into the feeling of one-uping you to prove I could one day help you and to show you I’m worthy. I didn’t become aware that it was that bad till I saw you when you were sick. I immediately closed the store and went to your grandmother who filled me in on all of the other horrible things I caused for you. I’m so sorry.�� Rio chest heaves as she spews her words.

You stop pacing, biting the skin on your thumb. It’s a nervous tic that’s recently reared its ugly head again. Rios crying, and she hates it. She looked so much like a scolded child that you laugh. She’s confused now. You actually feel like you’re going insane but you just want one good thing so you get right up in her face and look into her eyes. She thinks you’re gonna slap her, but you grab her face and give her the angriest kiss you’ve ever given anyone. Okay and maybe you do slap her but not too hard. You just laugh at her nervous look.

“You bitch,” you say incredulously, “You really did all of this just to ask me out? You do realize I would have said yes the second you walked through that door right? Rio… I like you, I do. You can be the most annoying and conniving creature I know, but you’re charismatic and beautiful. So… since you’re so powerful, I will go out with you on several conditions. Would you like to hear them?” Rio nods her head eagerly.

“Please.” You smirk.

“Look at you, using your manners and everything,” Rio rolls her eyes, “Alright, I will go out with you if you give me everything you earned from your store. I know for a fact you don’t need it and since it wasn’t supposed to be a real store those are my profits. I want you to apologize to my grandmother too and tell her I said thank you for the gift. Secondly, I want to go on a vacation with you to wherever because I’ve wanted to for years and I deserve one. So pack your bags or this ain’t happening” you look between the two of you.

In any other situation these demands would look absolutely insane and maybe they still do but you don’t care because you were stressed and this relationship was already extremely unhealthy on both sides. She pretends to think about it but eventually smiles.

“Of course,” her devilish smirk returns, “but don’t think I don’t still have any power over you dear. I may have been naughty and will prove to you every day that I can be better but watch yourself. After all you can’t cheat death.” She winks and you sigh.

“When I get a couch and a real bed you’re sleeping on the couch,” You simply say and her smirk falters slightly.

“Touché. Oh before I forget,” she puts her hands on your hips. “Check my right pocket.” You give her a raised brow and check, immediately figuring out what it is.

“The love rune,” you hold it up, “you bitch.” It’s said fondly.

“Told you it’d work,” she whispers holding your cheek. And you scoff lightly.

“It’s my own product, I knew it would. But for the record, I knew I would love you from the second I saw your devilish smirk.” You admit. She bites her lip briefly before pulling you into another kiss.

“I’ll give you the world,” she murmurs against your lips. You laugh,

“First give me my money back… but after, all I want is you.”

#rio vidal x reader #agatha all along

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orangeheliophile · 3 months ago

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BAKUGO X PREGNANT WIFE READER WHO IS A PRO HERO AND HAD TO GO ON MATERNITY LEAVE BC SHES EXPECTING TWINS UR WRITING IS SO GOOD

Omg, hi!!

Thank you for your request! I'm currently working on it, so bear with me, hahaha. This idea has been on my mind, so thank you for encouraging me to write it!

I've also added a small twist to it, so I hope that's okay!

I also love the GIF, haha. It made me smile and giggle for a good amount of time!😂

Baby Kacchan x2

(Bakugou Katsuki x reader)

What happens when you, the number four Pro Hero, have to go on maternity leave because of your husband, the number two Pro Hero? AKA Bakugou Katsuki. But here's the thing, it's twins, and you want to surprise your husband.

Warnings: Bakugou. Cursing, slightly suggestive, a bit of throwing up, little angst?

Contains: fluff, crack, clingy dramatic husband, silly reader. Reader is pregnant with twins. 25 yr old!Bakugou, pro hero Dynamight, mentions of Dynamy. Reader and Bakugou also have a yellow pomeranian named Missle Launcher. (You can guess who named it.)

You were sitting outside on the balcony, admiring the coral and tangerine sky as the golden sun slowly set into the distance. It's peaceful, the weather is just the right amount of warm and the scenery mesmerizing.

You and Katsuki are happily married, living together in a gorgeous villa he built for the both of you. It's a bit too big for just you both in your opinion, but that's because he was planning to raise your family in that house. The house was a style of traditional Japanese and Mediterranean, with vibrant colors and such beautiful architecture.

He thought of you in every moment when designing the house. How you'd want to be around nature, have a space for a library, and he definitely made sure to add those fairytale attics you've always wanted; with all the secret rooms and many windows.

Ever since you both babysat a certain set of triplets, he's been thinking of wanting to have a family with you. He would make an amazing father, always playing with his kids and making sure they know how amazing you are.

Little did he know, his wish was being fulfilled. You're pregnant. With twins. Who will make you look fat. Thanks a lot, mini Dynamights.

Slowly rocking back and forth on the chair, your hands caress the Itty bitty baby bump. You smile, an adoring look in your gaze as your yellow pomeranian, Missy (short for Missle Launcher), is sitting on the chair next to you with her tail wagging happily. She was the first one you told that you were pregnant.

The plants around the balcony provide you with fresh oxygen, as you're extremely comfortable wearing a pair of shorts along with one of Katsuki's skull shirts. It was your day off, and soon you'll have to have many more.

Taking a sip of your hot chocolate, you hum in satisfaction, the sweet flavor filling your taste buds as you hold the Dynamight mug in your hands. Even if you were both Pro Heroes, you loved to get Dynamight merchandise. It always amused you how your husband would blush like a tomato while scolding you when you buy a teddy bear wearing his hero costume, but you don't really care because you wanted to support him. And he felt the same way, obviously.

A warm smile grows on your face at the thought of your twins wearing Dynamight hero onesies and how adorable they would look in them. Your heart swells, already having thought of baby names and all of the things that cause one baby fever. You want chunky babies.

The smell of caramel and spice fills your nose, the scent of your husband lingering around the house even if he's out on patrol. You should probably go back inside before it gets too dark, but the scenery is just so pretty, with the soon to be autumn colors already spreading everywhere.

You sigh deeply, leaning your head back on the rocking chair as you place the mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table. Missy whines next to you, placing her tiny paw on your arm as a signal that she wants your attention. You smile towards the pomeranian, grabbing a warm, fluffy red blanket from the armchair as you place it on your lap and pat your knee.

The yellow dog barks in joy, hopping onto your lap while snuggling against your baby bump to keep you three warm. You smile, feeling your heart warm how animals are able to sense pregnancies. A hand rubs her head affectionately, as Missy's tail wags while she licks your hand, making you giggle at the feeling.

"I guess it's just you and me, huh?" You jest, to which the dog barks and nudges your bumb with your nose. You laugh, nodding your head as you put your feet up on the coffee table. "Oh right, and the babies too."

Speaking of babies, you haven't exactly told your husband that you're pregnant. Which makes you feel a bit bad since he sometimes tells you how he wants to have mini Katsuki's and mini Y/n's running around the house. Even if he doesn't seem like it, your husband secretly adores young children.

So, you want to surprise him with the pregnancy, but you're not sure how. Your Katsuki deserves the best. So you want to give him the best. But how would you give him that?

You frown slightly, feeling a twinge in your chest as you start to think over how you're going to surprise your husband. You can't hide it forever, but you don't want to mess up. Fingers clench around the mug a little bit tighter, putting it down as you sigh in defeat. You were always the overthinker.

Exhaustion starts to creep over you as you let out a yawn while stretching your limbs. Missy yawns back, curling more into your lap as your eyes start to flutter close. You'll think about it tomorrow.

The sky turns into an orange red hue, the sun nearly setting as the neighborhood lights switch on. It's beautiful, warm colors of autumn bringing you peace, as it's warm enough so you don't freeze outside. And just like that, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of the future family you and your husband will have.

An hour later, Katsuki arrives, kicking off his combat boots on the entry while taking a deep sigh. Work was a bit more busy than usual, as he had to help an old lady cross the street. The kind that take forever to move. His fans would definitely not shut up about this for a month.

Katsuki groans, his nose scrunching at the thought, but he feels relieved to finally be home after not being able to see you for a day. As he takes off his motorcycle helmet, the blonde quirks a brow, feeling confused as to why you haven't run down the halls to greet him home with his seven kisses.

Right now, your husband just wants to cuddle with you and watch a movie. And he can't do that if he doesn't know where you are. Taking off his hero mask, Katsuki places it on the side table, along with the keys, his gauntlets, and some chocolates he bought earlier for you both. "Baby! I'm home."

Normally, you would already be running into his arms when the door unlocks, but you're nowhere to be seen. His frowns at this, already taking off the parts of his hero suit while roaming around the living room in search of you. "Sunshine? Where are you?" No answer. "Honey? You home?" No answer again. He starts to panic a bit, about to run all over the house in search of you when he halts; hearing someone walk down the stairs.

At the sound of Katsuki's voice, small footsteps pat against the wooden floor, a small bark echoing through the halls as Missy comes to greet him, the pomeranian having left your lap as soon as she heard the door.

The spiky haired blonde smiles at the dog, crouching down onto his knees as the pomeranian jumps into his arms and licks his face. Katsuki laughs, caressing her soft fur as her tail wags and thumps against his arm happily.

"Hey, Missy. Y'know where mommy might be?" He whispers, chuckling when the dog tilts her head to the side, only licking his face in response. Katsuki smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of the pomeranians' head while letting her hop back onto the ground. Missy whines, nudging his leg forward before walking down the hallway and up the stairs.

Walking up the steps, he takes out his gloves, already having the jacket of his hero suit in his hand as he runs a hand through his spiky hair. Your husband follows the small dog, peeking through every room in case you were somewhere in there. He learned from experience that you're a master at hide and seek, as he almost had a panic attack when he couldn't find you when you were kids. But that's a story for another time.

Missy leads Katsuki into your bedroom, his tracks stopping when he sees the sight of you sleeping on the rocking chair outside on the balcony. It was a perfect view. The moon next to your sleeping form while the red trees and dim lights contrast against your beauty. His heart skips a beat, cherry red eyes immediately softening when he sees his love in a peaceful slumber.

Taking slow and quiet steps, Katsuki makes his way towards you, a lovesick smile appearing on his lips when he stands behind you, fixing the strands of your hair so they don't fall on your face. A content sigh falls from his lips, admiring your angelic figure as you coo in your sleep. His heart instantly melts at the small noise.

The blonde turns, crouching down to face you while effortlessly scooping you up in his arms, being careful not to wake you as he carries you bridal style into the bedroom. Katsuki places you on the bedroom, making sure to tuck you in the bedsheets and place a fluffy blanket over you.

Your husband furrows his eyebrows, his eyes widening in shock when he notices something on you- you didn't brush your teeth. You have a chocolate stain on the corner of your mouth. Katsuki huffs in disapproval, shaking his head once before pressing feather light kisses onto your face; one of his ways of waking you up.

You whine, knitting your eyebrows as your hand goes to smack whatever is disturbing your sleep. Your husband grunts, rubbing his face while having a small pout on his lips. Did you really have to smack him in your sleep? Your face becomes peaceful once again, only to be interrupted when a deep, soothing voice whispers to you. "Baby, c'mon, you gotta brush your teeth honey, then we can cuddle."

A sleepy smile grows on your lips, processing the fact that your husband has arrived and is right here with you. You hum, scooting closer to him as he sits on the edge of the bed, placing your legs on his lap while rubbing your knee affectionately.

You feel so glad that Katsuki's back from hero duties, yet you really don't feel like getting up. Because the mattress is just so comfy and the blankets are amazingly soft.

And as if Katsuki could read your thoughts, he does he sighs and rolls his eyes playfully, aggressively kicking off his hero suit as you giggle at his dramatic self. "Fine, fine. If you won't do it yourself, I'll do it for you. Ungrateful wife." He mutters, making a funny face while rolling his eyes. You giggle more, lightly kicking his rib as he scoffs dramatically in betrayal.

You wonder if the babies would take after his personality.

Katsuki huffs, reaching out to holds your hands in his, bringing them to his lips while pressing multiple kisses onto your skin. The action never fails to make your heart flutter, as he never seems to be the type, but Katsuki is a big hopeless romantic when it comes to you. Yet it never fails to make you smile when he shows you all of his affection.

Pressing one big last smooch onto your knuckle, Katsuki breathes through his nose, resting his forehead on the back of your hands as if it's a torture to part with you for a few moments. So dramatic, you think.

You hum in content, sleep still hazing over you as it makes you feel even more at peace when he's here with you. Your husband pats your knee, signaling that he's going to get up as he grabs your ankles and stands, placing your legs back onto the bed as he goes to take a shower.

Laying your head back on the silk pillows, you relish the softness of the mattress while subconsciously placing a hand on your stomach. A sigh leaves your lips, wondering how to tell the agency that you'll have to go on maternity leave and that you'll also have to tell your husband. Right now, you just want to enjoy the moment.

After about twenty minutes, Katsuki leaves the shower, muscles dripping with water as he wraps the towel around his slim waist. His usually spiky hair is a bit matted down but is still looking incredibly fluffy. You totally were not drooling over him the whole time. Never. That's absurd!

Suddenly, you had the energy to get up and go give your husband a kiss for being so incredibly handsome.

Getting up from your spot on the bed, you grunt, pushing yourself up as you wrap a blanket around your body and waddle towards your gorgeous husband. Katsuki is changing his clothes, about to put his shirt on when you wrap your arms around his waist and pepper kisses onto his chest. The blonde flinches in surprise, blood rushing up his face as he huffs and looks down at you through the hole of the shirt.

"Ya need something, hon?"

"Nah, I'm good."

Katsuki huffs out a laugh, feeling you cling onto him as he puts on his shirt with you under it. It's a funny but cute sight, as there's the outline of your body as he sort of looks pregnant. Which is funny because you're actually the pregnant one. You think.

Your husband rubs your lower back lovingly, his hand gliding down to your hip and drawing imaginary figures just how you like it, making you practically melt into putty. You sigh in content, your cheek squished against his chest as you cling onto him, needing to feel his warmth to make you feel better.

Katsuki smiles softly, opening the cabinet as he pokes your side playfully. "You're cute, but that won't change the fact that you need to brush your teeth."

Why must he always ruin the moment? Stupid husband.

After brushing your teeth, you finally climb back to bed, the balcony doors shut as the both of you cuddle into the soft, firm mattress; the both of you staring up at the ceiling while enjoying each others presence. Katsuki wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into your cheek as you caress the scar on his right arm, your mind drifting off into the future, how you're going to have twins.

A smile grows on your face, making you feel giddy as you sway your feet and squeeze his arm that's curled around you. Katsuki notices this, shifting to his side as his cherry red irises having love in them as he looks at you. "What's got you so happy?" He jests, scooting closer to you while cupping your cheek, caressing the wrinkles around your eyes that make you smile so beautifully.

You giggle, turning on your side as your nose bumps with his, complete adoration in your expression as your hand goes to play with his fluffy locks. "I'm just happy to be with you." He huffs in response, his cheeks turning a bubblegum pink while leaning into your touch; as if being right up in your face wasn't enough for him.

"Stop it. Stop being adorable." He grumbles, feeling flustered when all you do is giggle and fawn over him. Katsuki groans, stuffing his face into your chest while nuzzling his face into your skin, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose as he clings onto you.

You smile happily, playing with his hair while giving him a scalp massage with your fingers, practically making him feel like he's in heaven. That is until Missy decides to hop onto your shared bed.

Katsuki deadpans, groaning in annoyance when you gasp and roll him off of your body, kicking him out of bed as he falls onto the cold floor with a thud. "Missy, baby!" You squeal, giggling as the pomeranian barks and happily climbs onto your lap, resting her chin on your belly while panting happily.

Your husband groans, laying face first on the floor as he feels a sense of betrayal on how quick you were to kick him off. The nerve. "Missy... why do you have to ruin the damn moment?" Katsuki deadpans, lifting himself off only to see you cuddling the yellow dog in your arms. Where the pomeranian is lying on his side of the bed.

The betrayal.

Your eyes flutter open in the morning, the tangerine rays shining through your windows as the birds chirp outside. You sigh, curling up against your husband's side as he holds you like a teddybear, practically suffocating you with his affection.

The moment is peaceful, with your yellow pomeranian laying on your lap with her chin resting on your belly, snoring a bit while kicking her foot in her sleep. A sleepy grin appears on your face, the peacefulness going away when you feel your stomach drop.

You were going to throw up.

Your eyes shoot open, throwing Katsuki's arm off of you, and moving Missy away as you scramble towards the bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind you.

Your knees drop to the floor, bending in front of the toilet as you gag, the vomit coming out of your stomach as tears brim your eyes. You've always hated this feeling.

While you were throwing up in the bathroom, Katsuki had already woken up by the emptiness of your warmth.

Your husband stirs awake, turning his head to the side and squinting to see that you're not on the bed, with Missy scratching her ear sleepily on your spot. He frowns, eyes widening when he hears your choked sobs coming from the bathroom.

Katsuki immediately gets up from the bed, striding towards the bathroom door only to find that it's locked. His eyes widen in worry, a pang in his chest when he hears the quiet sobs and muffled gags on the other side. "Princess? Hey, open up. Is everything okay?"

Your eyes snap open, body trembling in the slightest from the loss of fluids in your body. You pant, gripping onto the stool next to you for support as you flush the toilet; stumbling to go wash your mouth and hands in the process. It's a good thing your hair was tied up.

Your husband sighs in frustration, picking the lock as your eyes widen when he bursts in through the door. Katsuki stares at you in panic- quickly running towards your side and wrapping his arm around your waist as his hand holds yours tightly for stability.

"Fuck, honey, what the hell happened?"

Your heart clenches, feeling guilty for worrying your husband as you're upset about the pregnancy effects. Your head shakes, your lower lip, trembling as you don't want to talk at the moment. Katsuki frowns even more, helping you wash your mouth and face while letting you lean onto him for support.

"Baby, please, just tell me-" "I'm sorry."

Your husband stares at you in disbelief, seeing your lips wobble as you dig your nails into your palms, to which Katsuki immediately disapproves. His hand slips into yours, thumb rubbing over the lines of your palms while leaning back so you can rest your back on his chest.

You sigh deeply, your hand gliding his arm that's wrapped around your waist. Should you tell him? You can't hide it forever.

Katsuki's always been smart. And it's more than likely he'll find out if you keep brushing it off. But you wanted it to be so special. Tears brimm your eyes at the thought; already have planned out the perfect way to tell your husband that you're with child-no, his children.

With a breathy sigh, you swallow hard; the anxiety of the situation sinking in. You're about to tell him you're pregnant.

"Suki, can we go to the bedroom and talk?" Your voice is barely a whisper, a slight worry in your eyes that makes Katsuki start to grow nervous. He nods nonetheless, wrapping his arms under your thighs and carefully carrying you to your shared bed.

Your husband sets you down on his lap, his thumb rubbing your hip while his arm is wrapped around you. Katsuki nuzzles his nose into your cheek, worried crimson eyes staring at you as he waits for you to speak.

The silence fills the room, the growing anxiousness starting to creep into Katsuki as you turn your head to the side and tense up. The blonde gulps, starting to wonder if he did something wrong as he takes a shaky breath.

"If it's something I fucked up-" "I can't be a hero right now."

Your husband stiffens, and you visibly cringe at your bad choice of words. You cover your face with your hands, feeling even more guilty when you catch a glimpse of your husband's expression. Jaw dropped and trying to process what you just said.

Your husband stares at you in shock, and you blink at him, trying to muster up the courage of what you really meant. A heavy sigh leaves your lips, guiltily getting off his lap, and he lets you; only to plop back onto the bed and run a hand through his face.

Taking shaky steps towards your bedroom drawer, you grab a small gift box; the cover is yellow-orange with gold ribbons. You gulp, hands trembling in the slightest in anticipation as you walk back to the blonde splayed out on the bed; as if he was a sick victorian child needing a cure. Why does he always manage to be dramatic in every situation?

You stand next to the bed, carefully slipping the box into his hand before stepping back; wondering if you should run away or not.

Katsuki lifts up the box, giving you a look of confusion as you turn your back towards him, crossing your arms while standing in the corner of the room. The blonde squints, opening the box as you hear a small gasp from him. Yeah, the wall looks very interesting right now.

Tears swell in the blondes crimson eyes, sitting up on the bed while taking shaky breaths while staring down at the pregnancy test and two folded Dynamight baby onesies. Katsuki swallows back a sob; wide, hopeful eyes staring towards your back, almost begging you that this isn't some sick joke.

"You're actually pregnant?..."

Your shoulders tense, giving a shaky nod while covering your sobs with your hands, feeling a mixture of joy, nervousness, and relief that you finally told your beloved husband.

Katsuki wastes no time to make his way towards you, taking quick strides towards your figure as he wraps his arms around your hips and spins you around. Your breath hitches, seeing his gorgeous smile as his crimson eyes cry tears of joy, pupils dilated so much that his eyes look almost black.

A surprised yelp leaves your mouth as your strong husband picks you up, spinning you around carefully as you laugh and wrap your arms around his neck. The champagne-haired man laughs- genuinely while pressing multiple kisses all over your face.

"You're pregnant! You're actually pregnant, oh!- I've been trying for so long and- fuck! I can't believe I'm going to be a daddy!" Katsuki rambles, having a surge of extreme joy as you giggle when Missy starts to bark and jump onto her back legs in excitement. Your husband groans, burying his face into your neck while holding you tightly to him.

He sighs shakily, walking back towards the bed and plopping you down while hovering over you; his forehead resting against yours as his hand slips under the bottom of your shirt and rests on your tummy. "Thank you, thank you, I love you so fucking much it hurts-" He gasps out, making you smile with tears slipping down your cheeks. You laugh shakily, nodding to every word while cupping his face and wiping away the happy tears from his cherry red pearly eyes.

"I'm just happy that we're going to be a family." You whisper, making your husband chuckle and connect his lips with yours; the kiss loving and full of joy and emotion, as he expresses his gratitude into the kiss. Your fingers find their want into his fluffy locks, playing with his hair as he hums in satisfaction. It's perfect.

Missy hops onto the bed, making her way towards you both as she starts to lick Katsuki's face, making him scrunch up in disgust while pulling away from your mouth. You laugh as the blonde beefy man groans and wraps his arms around your waist while hiding his face in the side of your belly. "Missy, whhyyyy?" He whines out in annoyance, as the pomeranian only barks and starts to climb on top of him.

You smile, feeling blissful with your growing family as you ignore your husband's whines and complaints.

"Baby! Does this mean that I can have my army of mini Dynamights?"

"More like Dynamys with the way you're acting, hon."

Katsuki huffs in annoyance, nose scrunching up at the memory of the mini grenade in your high-school days. A giggle escapes your lips, hand rubbing his built back as he hums in content, finally at peace when Missy curls up on top of you both.

"You do realize we'll have to tell the agency about your maternatily leave, right? And that you'll have to let me smother and spoil you every day, right?" Your husband states, a prideful smirk on his face at the fact that he has the opportunity to be the malewife he secretly wants to be.

You snort, nodding your head as you smile and pat his head. "But that also means you'll have to work more for the both of us- and, you'll have to keep being a hero if-" Katsuki puts a finger on your lips, shushing you as he snuggles into your stomach.

"Don't talk right now. Just let me live my malewife dream, baby."

I hope you liked this one, @real-hot-grl-shi !

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#bakugou x reader #dynamight #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x reader #mha #bhna #fanfic #kacchan #kacchan bakugou #dad!bakugou #husband bakugou #pro hero katsuki

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noisilyscreechingsong · 1 year ago

Text

Baby Formula

Dp x Dc Crossover

Duke was having a slow day when he heard the cry of outrage just across the street. He sees the store owner let go of the little kid he had latched onto and pull his hand close to his chest. The kid picked up the box he dropped and turned quickly to sprint away on tiny legs.

“He bit me!” The man screams as he stares angrily after the boy.

Instead of his training to intercept the thief and return the stolen merchandise, Duke follows his gut feeling and just tails the running boy.

From what he can see, the kid it young, maybe six he guessed (he’s not great with ages that young), with black hair and worn clothes. Homeless most likely, or a run away.

The boy slows down and hides in an alley to check to see if anyone is following. Duke takes this time to jump down in front of him.

Blue, blue eyes snap to him and widen in surprise.

“Hey, kid,” Duke greets casually, still crouched to get closer to his height.

The child shift from foot to foot, obviously debating with himself whether to run or not while eyeing him critically. Not easy to trust. Expected.

“Whatcha got there?”

Little hands grip the box of baby formula closer to his chest reflexively and then hides it behind his back. He shoves the water bottle fuller into the pocket of his too large hoodie.

“Nothin’.”

Duke hums.

“I don’t wanna get you in trouble,” he eases. “I just want to help.”

“I don’t need any help,” the boy denies immediately.

“You might not, but what about your baby sibling?”

The boy tenses and his eyes narrow dangerously. So Duke was right.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Why should I tell you?” The boy fires back venomously.

Duke shrugs.

“That’s fair. I’m Signal by the way.” No response, not that he was expecting one. “I do need to know that you guys are staying somewhere safe. You’re a really good brother for looking after your baby…”

The boy frowns. “Sister.”

“Your baby sister and getting her formula, but I’m sure you’d also like to be playing instead of stealing. Am I close?”

“I can help take care of Ellie just fine,” the boy defends hotly.

‘Help’. He’s not the only one.

“You can, but you shouldn’t have to. You’re just a kid too. I wanna help make sure you guys are taken care of. Nothing bad will happen if you show me where you guys are staying,” Duke tried to argue calmly.

He hasn’t had much experience with this kind of situation but he needed to make sure they were in a safe place. Child trafficking had gone down after Red Hood made his displeasure known, but it wasn’t nonexistent.

The kid shifts again.

“They’ll split us up if they throw us in foster care. You can’t call CPS. Promise you won’t.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

“I promise I won’t call CPS.”

The boy thrusts his free hand forward with his pinky out.

“Pinky promise,” he insists.

Duke has to lock down the smile that threatens to creep up on him. Professional. He needed to stay professional.

He wraps his gloved pinky around the tiny finger in front of him and reiterates the promise. Greasy, black hair flops as the boy nods sharply in acceptance.

“Okay.”

Duke does smile a bit then. “Okay, lead the way.”

The kid hesitates for a second before shaking his head and huffing. He leads the vigilante through back alleys for quite awhile before they come up to the back of an abandoned building.

The kid turns back to him with his hand on the edge of a piece of plywood blocking the entrance.

Duke couldn’t tell exactly what the boy was thinking, but he knew he was second guessing. However, with the bright glow this kid was giving off that make Duke think he was a meta of some sort, he couldn’t let him walk away.

The boy continues on like he didn’t even pause, pushing the board aside and slipping through the small crack. Duke follows closely behind as they travel through the place that looks like it used to be a restaurant that had burned down. They walk until they make it to the only room with light, a storage room, and find a red headed girl, older than the boy but still young, holding a baby as she boils something on an old burner.

She looks up and freezes when she sees him.

“Don’t freak out,” the boy interrupts.

“Danny,” she says slowly, her teal eyes zeroing in on her little brother. “Why did you bring one of them here?”

‘Danny’ pulls the water and formula forward sheepishly. Her eyes widen.

“Danny,” she says with disapproval.

“Ellie only has one pack left, Jazz, I had to do something.”

“You didn’t have to steal,” Jazz hisses. “Dan will be back with-“

“Yea, well, he forgot last time, so what were we gonna do then, huh?”

Four names. Four kids living in a burned to hell building that he’s surprised is still standing.

The two kids stare each other down until baby Ellie starts squirming and fussing, reaching for Danny. The boy huffs and takes the baby, looking almost comical with how small they both were.

“I wanted to make sure everyone was okay,” Duke said to alleviate the tension in the too small room. “I just want to help.”

“That’s what people say before they call CPS on us and we have to run again,” she glares harshly, standing from the floor. She didn’t even reach his shoulders.

“And I promised I wouldn’t.”

“He pinky promised,” Danny adds in a hushed tone.

Studying the other kids in the room, Duke can see that Ellie was as bright as Danny, just a different color, and Jazz only had a slight glow.

“How old is Dan?” He asks.

Jazz puckers her lips like she sucked on a lemon.

“Old enough,” is her answer.

“Nobody is in trouble,” he reassures.

Neither of the siblings answer for a minute, Danny nervously looking between the vigilante and his sister, and Jazz staring Duke down with narrowed eyes.

“He’s sixteen,” Danny confesses.

Jazz shoots him a scalding look, to which the boy shrugs off with no guilt, but doesn’t deny it.

The oldest isn’t old enough, which was what he was thinking, but it still put him in a weird position. Should he call Bruce? He should definitely call Bruce.

Jason would be so much better at this than Duke. The Alley kids love and trust Red Hood, but this technically wasn’t Crime Alley.

“I want to help,” he says.

Jazz folds her arms over her chest and he doesn’t blame her for her suspicion.

“How?”

Yea, he’s working on that.

“Who the f*ck are you?”

The snarl comes from behind him and he whirls around to see a teen that greatly resembles the boy. This must be Dan, but holy macaroni, he didn’t even hear him come in.

“That’s Signal,” Danny says, passing Ellie back to Jazz who takes her and steps back from the angry teen.

“Yea, I can see that. Why is he here?” Dan growls.

Danny squares his shoulders and lifts his chin.

“I brought him.”

Dan snaps his glare from Duke to the little boy.

“You WHAT?” The shout sounds too large in the small room and Ellie immediately starts crying. “What the hell are you tryin’ to do, you little sh*t?”

“Hey,” Duke says firmly, trying to redirect the anger to himself. “I would have followed him anyway, it’s not his fault.”

It doesn’t work because as soon as the words leave his mouth, he’s rounding on Danny again.

“I told you to stay here,” he points at the small boy who looks equally scared and defiant. “What were you doing out there, idiot?”

“You didn’t get formula last time,” Danny emphasizes the ‘you’ heavily. “So I went out and got some. You’re welcome.”

“You little-“

Duke intercepts the bulky teen when he lunges at Danny trying to grab the front of his shirt. From the way Danny backs up quickly, it’s not the first time.

“Knock it off,” Duke growls at the teen. “He’s a kid.”

“He’s a snot-nosed little brat,” Dan snarls at his brother and then turns his ire onto Duke, pushing the vigilante away with a giant shove. “And I’m guessing you’re gonna turn us over to those corrupt social workers, huh? Well good luck.”

“No,” Duke denies with his hands up. “I don’t want to do that. I promised I wouldn’t.”

“He pinky promised,” Danny insists behind Dan after the teen shifted to stand in front of his siblings.

“Shut up, twerp,” Dan snaps but doesn’t take his eyes off Duke. “Then what do you want, vigilante?”

This situation has escalated.

He lowers his hands to his sides to level with the guy.

“I just want to help,” he states for the umpteenth time calmly.

“Yea? And how you plan to do that?”

Dan has been burned before, Duke could tell. His distrust is valid with what he’s probably experienced in the past, and Duke doesn’t really know how to make the brightly glowing teen calm down and not snap his teeth (fangs? Were those fangs?) at any hand trying to reach out.

“I know a guy,” Duke blurts out. Geez, where was Babs when he needed backup?

“You know a guy,” Dan repeats with healthy doubt.

“He can find you a place to live. A place that isn’t a burnt down pizzeria.”

“You mean a foster home,” Dan glares.

Duke couldn’t really deny that.

“How about I talk to him and maybe we can set up a trial period? How does that sound? He’s got plenty of money and extra rooms to spare. Good food too,” Duke compromises. He hopes it’s enough to sweeten the deal and not set off red flags.

“We have a history with millionaires,” Jazz says with a cautious edge. From the dark look on the boys’ faces he can read it’s not a good kind of history.

“Technically he’s a billionaire,” he couldn’t help but say, “but he’s a good guy. I promise.”

“You’re talking about Bruce Wayne,” the red-head states in realization.

Duke thinks to himself that she would get along great with Barbara and not just because of their similar hair color.

“All I’m asking is that you trust me a little and give him a chance. If it doesn’t work out, he’s found homes for other kids before. He’ll make sure you guys stick together. I know how bad the system is, I get it, just… let me help. Please.”

The others look to Dan, the eldest, to make the decision. He glares hard at Duke, and if he hadn’t stared down actual super villains before, the vigilante might actually be scared.

After several long moments, Jazz speaks up in a hushed tone.

“I think we should try.”

Dan raises his lips in a silent snarl, clearly not liking her opinion, but not outright rejecting it. Danny huddles close to Jazz, gripping her shirt tightly, but looking between Dan’s broad back and Duke only a few feet away hopefully.

“One month,” Dan growls lowly and Duke has to keep the sigh of relief from escaping. “We’ll do this trial period for a month and that’s it. If we want to leave, then we leave and nobody calls the police on us. Got it, Yellowjacket?”

“Got it. I’ll talk to him. Just don’t leave, okay? I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Dan huffs and his eyes shift to the door in silent demand to get the hell out. Duke slowly makes his way over.

“Just don’t take it out on the kid. He was just trying to help,” Duke adds, trying to lessen whatever punishment Dan was going to give Danny after he left.

Dan snarls with, yes those were fangs, “Don’t tell me how to raise my brother.”

Duke lifts his hands to back off and then promptly leaves.

He grapples to the nearest roof and immediately calls Bruce.

“Hey, yea, I’ve got four kids you’re about to take in. You’ve agreed to a month trial because the oldest doesn’t trust the system and they all don’t have a good history with rich people. I’ll have Alfred get their rooms set up, but this is me letting you know. Oh, and one’s a baby so you’ll be paying for all the stuff that comes with that. They’ll be at the manor tomorrow so try to show up. Good talk.”

He left the voicemail as the only method of communication like a true Bat. Next was to actually tell Alfred and hope he doesn’t get the disappointed look, though he doubts he’ll get in trouble for helping out some homeless kids. The biggest obstacle will be Damian, but as long as there is some sort of buffer (i.e. Dick or Duke) it should be fine. Probably.

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redvexillum · 6 months ago

Text

A/N: I didn't anticipate writing a Vox x Reader story (much less a raunchy, BDSM theme smut). But, I needed to get this idea out of my head so I can focus on my request and my other stories. So, here we are. Also, I've noticed there is a distressingly low number of PURE Vox x Reader stories, so I wanted to contribute to the database.

Though, I apologize if my version of Vox is lacking in any way. I have made many creative liberties with my head canon version of him.

Inspired by this post/conversation with the lovely miss @redfoxwritesstuff

07.09.24 - Now that I know where I'm going with this story, I have changed the title from [Short Fuse] to Signal.

SUMMARY: You royally pissed someone off because you were receiving anonymous hate emails for the past fifteen years. How incredibly petty and...entertaining. At first, you decided to ignore them but as their hate comments got increasingly creative, the more you couldn't help but add oil to the burning, passionate flame of their hatred towards you.

Until one day, the mysterious anonymous hater (probably) accidentally revealed themselves to be the one and only TV demon, an Overlord and CEO of everything technological and modern.

WARNING/TAGS: f!reader, toxic relationship, enemies to f*ck buddies to something indescribable, dom/sub undertone, sub!Vox, dom!reader, reader is a responsible dom, Vox takes a lot of L's but he secretly enjoys it, dual POV, Vox tries to be hip but ends up being a boomer, Reader is sexually liberal and confident, Vox is the brattiest sub you will ever find, kind of fluff if your squint

“Hello, my Sexy Peeps! How are you doing on this hellish day?” A melodious burst of laughter chimed from Vox’s phone. He took a dramatic sip from his coffee, savouring the rich, dark brew, and settled into his plush armchair, preparing to lose himself in her latest video.

“Today, I thought I’d mix things up a bit due to a very popular request!” She continued and leaned forward in front of the camera, giving Vox a generous view of her cleavage. He approved her outfit choice for today, a tight-fitting cyan blue tank top with a plunging v-neckline.

But aside from her attire, he was interested by her supposedly “new” content. He didn’t know she took requests from her viewers. Intrigued, he arched an eyebrow, setting his cup down on the side table and leaning his face closer to his phone.

The newest online sensation on VoxTube was about to begin. This girl had seemingly materialized out of nowhere, drawing tens of thousands of views and subscribers to her channel. Her retention rates were astoundingly high for content so banal and ordinary. Initially, Vox had suspected his network had been hacked.

He still couldn’t quite grasp how in seven layers of Hell she had managed to manipulate the algorithm with her simple videos. All she did was try the newest foods around the Pentagram and review random merchandise in a phenomenon called “unboxing.”

His gaze inevitably wandered to the deep trench of cleavage she prominently displayed. He scoffed. He’d seen better. After all, his partner controlled the porn industry in Hell.

Yet, that didn’t stop him from pausing her video sometimes, openly staring at her chest for a few seconds… or minutes…or maybe he may have saved a couple (several) screenshots of her video and her photos from her Sinstagram account. Perhaps he might have even saved some of her more salacious-looking photos on his internal hard drive for private viewing.

All for research, of course.

“Now, I know there’s this series – the longest-running series in all of Hell…” she trailed off, her plump, pretty lips curling into a mischievous smirk.

Vox straightened in his chair, feeling the first flutter of excitement in his chest. Could it be? Was she going to mention his most prized project, “Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?!” for free?

Excitement surged within him, a giddy thrill that this lame, greenhorn, no-name nobody was about to mention his series to her 2.5 million (and growing) viewers.

“Guys, guys, guys,” she laughed, raising her perfectly manicured hands in the air as if in surrender. “I watched the first season and wow–”

Vox pressed his thighs together, waiting with bated breath for what he hoped would be a glowing review. Perhaps he should contact her, reach out, sponsor her like all the tiny, insignificant, worthless, businesses were doing.

“I gotta tell you,” She shrugged, raised her immaculate trimmed brow, and with a hearty guffaw, said, “it’s pretty mid.”

Disbelief washed over him as he stared at the screen. Instinctively, Vox paused the video, staring at the freeze-frame image of her with a large smile dancing across her lips.

Mid? Mid? What the fuck did mid even mean?

Scrutinizing the word in his mind, he thought maybe she had given his series an average score. Average. He could work with average. But judging from the comments filled with those annoying crying laughing emojis and agreement that it was bad, he realized it was another piece of slang from this decade that he somehow missed.

Power surged through his head as his mind dove into the database, and he opened his trusty Urban Hell Dictionary.

The definition of Mid was…

Below average.

Not good.

Mediocre.

Boring.

“WHHHHAT?” He roared, his voice glitching in between the long-drawn-out word. Springing up from his chair, he picked up his mug before hurling it against the polished floor. It shattered into a cascade of jagged pieces, their sharp lines reminiscent of crooked, mocking smiles. The hot coffee splashed onto the hem of his pants, its sudden heat mirroring the fury rising within him.

Memories surged through him, back to when he was alive, back when they cancelled him for not being innovative enough, for not being entertaining enough, for being…

Being….

Boring.

His eyes twitched, electricity crackled and jolted up in arcs across the surface of his head before fizzling out at the points of the antennas from his hat.

He should kill her. Get Val to make her disappear or force her into working at his porn studio. How dare she call the fruits of his labour…b-bo-… He seethed, unable to even say the damn, blasted word.

Vox thought of a thousand ways to torment her, relishing the idea of making her cry with her below-average, not good, mediocre, BORING looking face. Anger surged, boiled, in his veins, and he did what he knew was the best course of action when faced with this unprecedented insult.

After all, with VoxTek, he had an image to keep of being on the side of the lowly Sinners. He chuckled, forced, but chuckled, nonetheless. It would smear his good image to go after some small, nobody of a Sinner. After all, he was an Overlord and the CEO of the largest corporation in all the five fucking points of the Pentagram.

She was going to get so cancelled.

That he would make sure of.

Humming a random, jaunty little tune, you shut off the ring light and closed your laptop. Stretching your back, you sighed in satisfaction as your bones gave a gratifying crack. You giggled at some comments from your review of the popular series, “Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?!”

There were passionate defences claiming the series was a work of art, which was far-reaching at best. It was mildly entertaining enough to watch while you painted your nails. Seriously, the show looked like it was produced for the audience in the 1950s.

You were the first influencer to give a poor rating to the TV series, and being first meant more controversy, more views, and more money from sponsorships as you rose to the trending list once again.

Damn, gaming the system was the best. Truly, Hell was way behind its time compared to what people did for views back when you were alive.

Following your routine, you washed away the makeup, changed from your tight-fitting clothes into a loose T-shirt and sweatpants, and laid on your king-sized bed that was far too big for one person. Staring up at the ceiling, you were surrounded by the void of your loneliness.

You should…go out and fuck someone.

Preferably, someone related to the entertainment industry. All that juicy gossip about your newest fling always raked in views and clicks.

But the idea fizzled and died as you thought about having to play the submissive role, feeding their giant egos to compensate for their shit-sized cocks. You considered visiting the BDSM club, but influential people were rarely found out in the open in those shops. There was probably a private club that you weren’t invited to…yet.

Vain.

Empty.

Nothing.

It didn’t change much, did it? Whether you were alive or damned.

Everything about your life was the same.

Sitting up, you grabbed your phone and started to scroll through Voxazon, frivolously spending thousands of Hell bucks on useless crap.

Retail therapy.

The tried-and-true method to stave off depression and apathy.

You were ready for that dopamine hit as you read through the reviews of the latest dildo models, your lips pulling into a sly smirk at all the new features of VoxTek’s newest sex toy.

A chime resounded from your phone – a notification from your personal email. Your brows raised as the sender was from [email protected]

Confused, you opened the email, wincing at the possibility of infecting your device with a virus. But that thought quickly vanished as you read the email’s content.

Subject: (no subject) Dear Bitch, Retract that fucking review about “Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?!” from your video today, or you will regret it. Furthermore, you have a “mid” face, and so are your boobs. Your boobs are super fucking mid. You probably get MORE views if you actually covered your boobs because that’s how MID they are. And all your videos are MID. Especially the one you posted on July 7, 20XX, where you reviewed the Hellover drink. The one where you wore that shitty neon green tank top, which, by the way, is also fucking MID. Anyway, this is my FIRST and LAST warning. Fuck you. P.S. Seriously. Fuck you.

Your eyes slowly blinked, once, twice, before a hearty, genuine laugh erupted from you. Oh my God. Did this prick actually hack your account to get your personal email to send such a shitty, lame-ass message?

Breaths coming out in short, uneven huffs, you rolled over on your bed from side to side, clutching your stomach. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes from laughing so hard. You hadn’t laughed this genuinely since you fell to Hell.

As your eyes traced over the words of their message, you laughed out loud again. It looked like you had a butt-hurt superfan.

Humming, you rolled over onto your stomach and kicked your feet idly as you stared at the message. “Thanks for the laugh, virgin prick,” you whispered, planting a loud smooch on your cellphone screen. “Annnnd, delete!” Your index finger daintily tapped the trash can icon.

Now, back to the task at hand. You debated between getting the glittery pink dildo or the two prong dildo. Tilting your head, you decided you deserved a treat, so you ordered both.

As you were purchasing more random crap, your eyes glazed over, your mind fervently thinking of what to say for your next season review for that TV series. Just then, an annoying ad popped up – of course, from VoxTek – promoting their shitty Cobra vibrator. Seriously, you tried it, and it did nothing for you.

An idea rapidly formed, growing until you jumped out of bed and ran to your laptop. No one had truly (and honestly) reviewed some of VoxTek’s terrible sex toys yet. In fact, you noticed that every single review for their sex toy line had glowing five-star ratings.

Now, some of their toys were outstanding, making you come so hard until you were sobbing, soaking your underwear from your release. But that was one out of every five toys you purchased. Like all massive corporations, VoxTek was clearly buying reviews, giving themselves perfect scores.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

Your review of the series and the anonymous hate message were soon quickly forgotten. This was your chance to shake things up, to give the unfiltered, raw truth that your viewers craved.

With a determined glint in your eyes, you started drafting your next video script. This was going to be huge, bigger than Jerry’s dick from last week, that was for sure.

NEXT ->

💠 MASTERLIST 💠

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nicohischierz · 11 months ago

Text

a street interview: mason mctavish

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

mason was walking through the mall with trevor and jamie when he got stopped by a girl holding a microphone.

"hi i have a podcast and this weeks theme is sports so I was wondering if you guys would be interested in answering a question on one of america's major sports," you spoke.

"what do you mean?" trevor asked, looking between his friends.

"well, i'll ask you a question from either the nhl, nba or mlb and if you guys answer it you can win a prize if you're interested," you explained.

the three boys looked at each other and nodded.

you turned to your friend and started rolling the camera. “okay choose a category, nhl, nba or mlb,”

trevor answered first “nhl.”

“the nhl is comprised of 32 teams with 7 of them being canadian. can you name the 7 canadian teams in the nhl?” you asked.

“toronto maple leafs!” mason exclaimed first.

the three then huddled into a group to think of the rest. “what about cole’s team?”

“montreal canadiens!”

“hey isn’t hughes in canada?” jamie asked

“omg the vancouver canucks!” trevor picked up on quickly.

“you guys have a minute to name the other four,” you prompted.

trevor looked at you appalled “hey, you never said it was timed!” he argued. you shrugged at him “now you know,”

“edmonton oilers and calgary flames,” mason added.

jamie and trevor tried their hardest to think of the last two teams but failing short they looked to mason.

“ottawa senators and umm i think the winnipeg jets,” he added.

you smiled at mason and nodded. “congratulations you guys are correct! and you’ve got a little prize. the three of you are the owners of the coffee hours podcast new merchandise and these tickets to the long beach indy car grand prix!” you handed the three their prize.

mason put his beanie on and smiled at the camera as trevor inspected everything.

you signalled to your friend to switch the camera off before turning to the three boys again. “you guys don’t have to keep the merch if you don’t want to but please use the tickets. my cousin gave them to me and i don’t know if i want to go,” you explained.

“i think my sister listens to your podcast,” trevor spoke. you smiled, your eyes twinkling at the realisation that people actually liked your content.

mason thought it was adorable.

"can i get your instagram," mason blurted.

jamie and trevor snickered at the boy as you gave him a warm smile. "sure," you held out your hand for his phone and put in your username.

it took mason three days to gain the confidence to message you. the boy stared at your profile for a whole hour before trevor forced him to say something.

"look she's half swiss and you were born in Switzerland, make conversation about that," trevor suggested.

mason shrugged. there wasn’t much to go on with that conversation starter and he knew deep down trevor also knew that.

zoe.fraser shared a video

zoe.fraser: you’re a hockey player?

“she messaged me!” mason exclaimed showing trevor and jamie his phone.

at that time, trevor’s girlfriend walked in as the boys discussed how mason should respond.

“i think you should send a shrugging emoji” - trevor

“maybe say you weren’t sure if she was a fan and didn’t think it was necessary to mention” - jamie

“girls like it when you’re a bit cocky” - trevor.

trevor’s girlfriend promptly hit her boyfriend over the head and asked mason for his phone.

“holy shit, that’s the host of the coffee hours podcast. i love her content, i always listen to her in my car,” she explained.

“mils, can you help mason?” jamie asked.

millie smiled and formulated a response.

masonmctavish: guilty 😅

zoe.fraser: well then i think you guys cheated

“you were in one of her video?!” millie exclaimed. trevor nodded and asked his girlfriend to continue her work.

masonmctavish: how about i make it up to you?

zoe.fraser: are you asking me out on a date?

masonmctavish: only if you say yes

zoe.fraser: friday 9:30, after your game

masonmctavish: you’ve got yourself a date

mason hugged millie before she moved over to trevor. millie patted the boys shoulder before settling in next to her boyfriend.

“i cant believe you met her. i would actually die and that’s saying a lot cause i’ve met fernando alonso and sebastian vettel,” millie mumbled.

trevor squeezed his girlfriends cheeks “i’ll give you the sweater she gave us. she said it was her first official merch,”

millie kissed her boyfriend before turning to mason. “you better not screw this date up,” she threatened lightly.

mason nodded, gulping hard.

that threat did not help his nerves. at all

#mason x podcast host!reader #mason mctavish imagine #nhl imagines #nicohischierz writes

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breelandwalker · 1 month ago

Note

so, I know you've been vending at a lot of different craft fairs and witch markets for awhile now (sadly, too far away for me to attend!). would you happen to have any tips for someone looking to do the same at their local fairs? thanks!!!!!! ❤️

Sure! To start, brush up on three things - networking, recordkeeping, and people skills. Get an idea of what's going in on your area, talk to the organizers, see what the particulars are for the events. Here are some questions to ask:

What's the venue like? (indoors, outdoors, parking, accessibility)

Do I need to bring my own table and chairs?

Is there electricity / wifi available?

What is the table fee?

When is the event and how long does it run?

Is there a theme or target audience?

Is there advertising being done for the event? (Signal boost!)

Based on the answers you get, you can start putting your stock and setup together.

Do as much as you can WAY ahead of time. If you need to make things, start now. If you need to buy things, give yourself at least a month before an event to make sure everything arrives in time. Get yourself a 6-foot folding table and a comfortable folding chair or camp chair for events where they're not provided by the venue. Sign for Paypal, Venmo, and Cashapp as well as a card payment processing service like Square to give your customers the most payment options possible. And of course, plan to carry some small bills for cash patrons. (You don't need a register or cashbox, a simple bag of appropriate size will do. I literally use a pencil case that says Resting Witch Face. Works great.)

You'll want to get some displays for your merchandise. The type will vary depending on what you have, but it should be simply and sturdy and preferably easy to pack in and out. Vertical visibility is important at these events, so if you can find some kind of stand or tiered display, that will help you get noticed. I'd also suggest some simple clear plastic standups that you can put a printout price list and a basic sign in. A table banner helps people notice your table from afar and you should definitely have business cards to hand out with your shop info and socials. (I use Vistaprint for both.) Decorations are nice, but don't overload the table with them. They should augment your setup, not overwhelm it.

You may also want to get an 8x8 or 10x10 popup canopy and canopy weights if you plan to do outdoor events. Also, GET A COLLAPSIBLE WAGON. Best investment I ever made was a $45 collapsible wagon. It fits in my backseat and makes hauling things in and out of venues SO much easier.

Keep track of everything you spend related to your endeavors, including event fees, supplies, stock, setup items, displays, signage, business cards, and gas and food on the day. Keep those receipts - you can deduct them on your taxes later to offset your earnings. (Because registering as a business can be a pain and comes with fees, but if you don't do it, you may owe money for not collecting sales tax. Put aside some money for that tax bill, just in case.)

Prep your setup and stock the night before an event. Check your merch, charge your card reader (and bring a fully-charged auxiliary power pack and cord, just in case), make any updates to your inventory or pricing that you need to. It really cuts down on stress when you're loading up if you know you've already get everything set. I suggest reusable shopping bags or clear plastic bins to make things easy to haul, plus they can double as storage.

Plan to leave as early as you need to in order to account for traffic and pit stops. Pick an outfit ahead of time so you don't have to dither over clothes. It should be something appropriate for the event and the weather that looks neat and clean and is easy to move around in, including comfortable shoes. (Look to other vendors for examples.)

Make sure you bring water, snacks, and anything you'll need to get through the day, i.e. medicine (headache pills and stomach medicine at minimum), energy drinks, a fan for hot days, an extra layer for cold ones, etc. Get to the venue as early as the organizers allow. The more time you have to park, load in, and set up, the less stressed you'll be. Make sure things are arranged in a way that's accessible and makes sense. Place signage where necessary to explain items and pricing.

GO TO THE BATHROOM BEFORE THE EVENT BEGINS. TRUST ME.

During the event, you're gonna have to do a LOT of socializing, so prepare for that as best you can. Try to stand if possible when there's a lot of foot traffic so you're more noticeable. Be personable - you don't have to grin constantly, just try to keep a pleasant expression and greet people as they pass, especially if they look in your direction. Don't be afraid to invite passersby over if they pause to check out your setup. Welcome them in, invite them to check out your stuff, and let them know you're happy to answer questions. (And ALL questions are good questions. There are no dumb questions. Even if the question is the dumbest thing you've ever heard or it's the fifteenth time you've been asked that day.) Chat and banter a bit where possible. If you can get people smiling or laughing, they're more likely to stick around and possibly purchase your wares. Make sure as many people as possible take your card when they leave.

Yes, you will be exhausted when the event is over, even if you're a naturally outgoing person, and you'll still have to break everything down, haul it out, load your vehicle, and drive home. If you happen to have somebody who can help you out, that really comes in handy.

In any case, know your own capabilities and personal limits and plan for that when you're deciding where to vend. If a venue is too far away for your comfort or doesn't have what you need or the table fee is too high (be wary of any thing over $75 for a single day event), don't sign up. If an event is too long or too far outside your target audience, don't sign up. If you don't have an appropriate setup or don't have the stock / can't get it in time, don't sign up. If something about the event or the venue or the organizers rubs you the wrong way, DON'T SIGN UP. Talk to other local vendors to get an idea of where to go and what to expect. Most will tell you right away what works, what's good, and what to steer clear of.

This is all just the basics. You'll learn a lot more when you start to vend, as far as what your individual needs are, where to go to find reliable business, and how best to connect with local venues and customers. Keep records of everything you do (spreadsheets are your friend!), network with organizers and other vendors, and practice that sociable game face.

And trust me - if a disorganized introvert with social anxiety and ADHD and absolutely NO sales experience can figure out to do this, I think pretty much anyone has a chance.

Good luck!!!! 😁

#A. Nonymousse #witch market #vendors #practical advice #witch tips #life hacks #Bree answers your inquiries

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duckprintspress · 1 year ago

Text

COVER REVEAL: Aether Beyond the Binary!

Duck Prints Press is over the moon to announce that the crowdfunding campaign for our next anthology, Aether Beyond the Binary, will be launching on Kickstarter on December 26th, 2023. This awesome collection includes 17 stories about characters outside the gender binary – be they non-binary, agender, genderfluid, bigender, or elsewise – exploring, learning, growing, teaching, helping themselves or helping the world in settings like the modern world, but with magical aether powering the technology!

Our spectacular cover, which we are thrilled to reveal today, features art by non-binary artist Mar Spragge. The lead editor, Nina Waters, is agender. Many of our contributors are also trans and/or non-binary. You can see the full list of contributors here.

The crowdfunding campaign for this book will include options to buy the anthology as an e-book, trade paperback, or hard cover, and we’ve also got some gorgeous merchandise, with an enamel pin by Atomic Pixies, a bookmark by Pippin Peacock, a sticker of the back of the book cover (because the book cover is FULL WRAP-AROUND, wut?!), and of course a sticker of our latest Dux, created by Alessa Riel.

The campaign goes live on December 26th, 2023. To get all the details and make sure you don’t miss a thing, follow our Kickstarter Pre-Launch Page NOW!

Signal boosts are extremely appreciated on this post. This is a super cool project and we want to get the word out about it. And I mean, look at the lovely artwork. You know you need that lovely artwork on your blog/page/feed/whatnot. 😀

#duck prints press #kickstarter campaign #anthology kickstarter #queer anthology #aether beyond the binary #agender character #non binary character #nonbinary character #queer characters #queer fiction #queer short story

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januaryembrs · 1 year ago

Text

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Marc Spector/Steven Grant x Reader [9]

Description: Layla, Steven and Dove set off towards Ammit’s tomb across the dunes, only Steven and Dove have a heavy confession they’ve each been meaning to make.

Word count: 10.8k

Trigger warnings: MINORS DNI. 18+. SMUT UNDER THE CUT. (What the heck) Fingering, F!reader, blood, flares, guns, canon level murder. Hints at grooming (not between Steven/Marc obviously), hints at toxic relationship. (Based on Last Night in Soho dir. Edgar Wright)

Authors note: I have never written anything smutty in my life, I hope this is okay. It kinda hit me out of no where. Also there will be a full smut chapter when the series is finished as a little treat.

main masterlist | series masterlist

Life seemed to have this horribly funny way of ripping goodness out of Dove’s hands.

Just as Layla had found a match on her tablet for the constellations, coordinates popping up on the screen like a digital bat signal, Khonshu gave a groan of pain even a god couldn’t hold back. He dropped to his knees, one of his boney hands falling to steady himself on the warm sand, the other jutted into the night sky to hold the stars where they watched him weaken.

Dove watched in frozen shock as in a matter of seconds he slipped away into the darkness, though dragged seemed a better term for it.

The Ennead had imprisoned him, just as they said they would.

A flash of relief ripped through Dove as she watched the cruel god slip away, finally freeing the shackles he held around her Steven. A prison that kept him scared, kept him quiet, even more so than that of his own body, was gone.

Though with that went his suit, she thought with a moment of abject horror, frozen in her limbs as if waiting for her god to be ripped from her too.

Her breath caught against her chest, waiting, waiting to be freed from the chains around her legs, the leash around her neck. She wanted this over, wanted to be a gift shoppist again more than anything. She would take hours of Donna’s shrill voice berating her over merchandise any day than this sense of ownership he held over her.

Because if it was just Khonshu imprisoned, the mission would fall onto her shoulders. And she couldn’t do any of this alone, any of it without Steven. She could do none of it without Marc. She would be alone in this again.

She’d rather die than live long enough to see either of them hurt for real this time.

Just get it over with. She near begged the gods. I can’t be the one to save them. I couldn’t even save her, I’m not the one you want for this.

That is, until she watched Steven’s legs give out from beneath him and his eyes roll to the back of his lids, his body going limp, and she felt her heart drop into her stomach.

“Steven-Steven!” Dove called, lunging to grab him under the arms to hold him steady. But it was no use. His breath gave a rattled huff, his body completely yielding to unconsciousness, nearly toppling her over herself had she not put a hand out to stop the two of them face planting into the course sand.

Hoisting him over to his back, she brought a hand up to his cheek, his eyes flickering closed in REM, shaking his head with more care than she knew she should. She couldn’t find it in herself to strike him any harsher.

Layla fell to her knees beside her, more forceful with her shoves as she pushed his muscled body with a desperate sort of anger, begging him for the both of them to wake up.

“Marc? Marc, come on!” The other woman yelled, bunching his jumper in her fists until her knuckles turned just as white as the alabaster fabric, “Come on! Where are you?”

Then she heard it. Dove felt her ears prick up, an engine stuttering in the distance, tires crunching over sand, a metal rattling of bodywork against a motor.

A car. A truck, full of bodies. Full of guns.

She could hear the bullets rattling in their chambers, hear the men’s breathing, jeering to one another.

Harrow’s men. Or maybe even Mogart’s. She didn’t know anymore. She just knew they spelled danger.

“We have to go,” Dove said exasperated, scrambling to her feet despite the sand shifting under their weight as the sounds approached, “We need to leave now.”

“Leave him, they won’t shoot him if he already looks dead,” Layla huffed, dropping Steven’s arm, grabbing the scruff of Dove’s collar ferociously, “Leave him,”

“We can’t leave him, what if they fire for good measure?” Dove asked, smacking Layla’s hand away from her with a scowl, “I’m not leaving him-”

A blinding light lit up their faces, their heads snapping to where headlights lit up the dunes surrounding them. The wind seemed to hold its breath as the women stood, spooked deers with targets on their backs.

“Stop being so god damn stubborn for once,” Layla seethed, grabbing the younger woman’s arm tight enough to pinch, “We’ll come back for him in a second, now move,”

It took everything in her to listen.

She was all but dragged into a run towards their own vehicle where they had been piecing together the map not even twenty minutes earlier. She hated how funny time was like that.

They waited on bated breaths, hoping the truck would drive past them with no consequence, no interference.

Though of course, that would never happen. That would be too kind.

Bullets whistled past their legs, something bigger than the pistol Layla had held from what Dove could tell, something made for killing quickly, killing messily.

The women winced hearing the trucks engine slow to a low rumble, carefully rolling down the dune as it shot blindly into the dark where they ducked behind the body of their car, Layla’s breath panting loudly in her ear.

She felt her heartbeat in her throat, praying on everything she’d ever believed in that they didn’t see Steven, that they didn’t shoot Layla. It was redundant worrying about herself, though part of her wondered if the God of chaos had been forced into a ushabti too, she wasn’t willing to figure it out by throwing herself in front of the barrel of the gun.

Layla reached up for the cold metal of the handle, clicking it open and practically forcing Dove in by the scruff of the neck into the wagon end of the truck, the grains of sand crunching under her boots as she lay still, waiting for the truck to hopefully pass.

Clambering in after her and shutting the door quietly, Layla ducked down next to her, the sound of their exhausted breaths cutting through the quiet night. She had faced worse than these men, than this one big gun, yet she felt without Marc there to tell her where to hit them, without Steven there to hold her face and tell her how brave she was, she was nothing.

“I saw them running!” One of the men called out, the two women freezing in their spots, “Check around the truck!”

The flickering of the headlights filtered in through the dirty truck windows, dust smattering the glass though Dove still got a clear view of the vehicle cruising around them, circling like a shark in bloodied waters, searching for the rest of the kill.

She felt Layla tense next to her when her boot hit something near the door, a red satchel with a muddied flame printed on the front.

Flames. Fire. There was a crate full of ammunition she could hear rattling around the back of that truck which only meant one thing. Gunpowder.

“Layla,” She whispered, grabbing the woman’s arm and pointing to the red bag, “Are there matches in there?”

“Flares- why?” Layla murmured back, a scowl on her face at the stupidity of the girl to be talking.

Dove hesitated a moment, keeping an eye on the truck as it rolled past them and looped back towards where Steven lay unconscious still. They didn’t have alot of time left. They would surely shoot at him to be sure, and without the suit anymore-

“There’s bullets in that truck,” Dove whispered, meeting the woman’s eyes through what little light the stars gave them, “Flares set on fire when you pull them right?”

Layla’s scowl seemed to drop as she understood what the girl was suggesting. The woman scrambled for the satchel, ripping the zip open to reveal six red, waxy tubes, the metal hooks hanging off as the triggers.

Shoving one into Dove’s hands, she took one for herself, head snapping to the girl nearly ten years her younger.

“You know what you’re doing?” Layla murmured, the two of them looking through the front windscreen where the headlights seemed to zero in on Steven. Steven, who was running out of time. Steven, who would throw himself in front of endless amounts of guns if it meant she was safe. Steven, who would wake up any second now and meet his end in the middle of no where because she wasn’t fast enough.

“You throw yours to get them away from him, I’ll go after them,” She replied hushedly, her hand opening the door quietly, sliding forwards until her legs dangled off the edge of the carriage. That is until a hand latched onto her shoulder to drag her back.

Her head whipped over her shoulder, worried they had been seen already, only to see Layla’s brown eyes unsure. Remorse ate away at her expression, twitching her eyebrows, scrunching her mouth bitterly.

“You had better be careful,” Layla bit, though Dove knew what the meaning beneath it was. Don’t die. Don’t get hurt. I’m sorry for what I said.

Dove nodded, dropping onto the sand silently, waiting for Layla to slip out of and throw her flare away from Steven.

She lost sight of the woman, her soft, tight curls bouncing around the corner of the truck, her own fingers crossing that the woman would stay far out of harm. She knew she was sorry, knew Layla had a way of exploding at her because she was the easiest target, she was the only one who would actually give her the reaction she’d wanted. She’d always known that hurt people, hurt people. And that’s all Layla was. Hurt, at the fact her ex-husband seemed to dodge every phone call, spill every lie, brush off every argument. She couldn’t say she agreed with how Marc handled the subject of Layla, but in the same way she was hurt, Marc was hurt too.

It’s just who they were.

Seeing a flash of red fly into the dunes, and the rumble of the truck's engine as it practically turned on two wheels and flew towards the commotion, shooting at the flare in the hopes of hitting one of them. She saw where the sand sprayed behind the wheels, stepping out behind their car and drawing her arm back for the shot.

Pulling the metal hook out of its socket, a small crack like a party popper sounded from the palm of her hand, and the red flame sprayed out the end. Before the men even had time to switch the gun onto her, she’d thrown it towards the rear of their vehicle, where she now saw a heavy artillery weapon, the clink and rattle of bullets rolling in the seat as the car came to a stop in front of Layla’s distraction.

She heard a shout of shock as her flare made contact, bouncing into the rear, before a white spark flew into the air and fizzled, like a star reaching its supernova within the inky black night.

She worried for a moment that that was it, that was all her brilliant plan could give, until ten more shots of the same ivory light flew into the sky, a crackle lingering in the truck before a huge ball of flame engulfed the car whole. Yells of fright from the passengers were cut off with one final whoosh and the yellow blaze licked into the black once more, silencing whatever protests the men had.

They had died. They had burned at her hand. And yet, thinking back to how suddenly they could have stuffed Steven full of bullets, she struggled to fight the relief that had filled her body.

Steven.

Spinning on her heel, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she collided with a hard body, one that seemed to have watched the conflict splayed all over her face in the warmth of the fire. She readied herself to shove them away, to call Layla for help, until she snapped out of her haze and saw a very tired, very sandy face that looked at her as if he’d seen an archangel lighting his way.

Steven.

She said nothing, though she wanted to tell him how pretty his eyes looked in the dark. She wanted to tell him how she’d thought of him every single day since the day they’d met, that he’d be the one to drag her out of the shadows that smothered her, that if there was one thing that could take away her pain, her sorrow, that could make her feel alive again, it was him.

But she didn’t. Because there weren't enough words, wasn’t enough time, to tell him how she felt.

So she pulled him into the tightest hug she could muster instead.

She felt her breath leave her when his arms went around her waist, nose burrowing into her neck, sighing. She didn’t care he was dirty, so was she, didn’t care that he was breathing so close to her skin, she revelled in it in fact. Her every hair stood on end as he kissed her shoulder, bare from where her shirt had ripped, kissed it again for good measure, her whole body shivering under his lips. He was so warm compared to her, she’d felt cold ever since that night she’d died, like a constant reminder she was just a body, and he was so full of life. He was so Steven it filled her heart until she thought it would come running out of her eyes in tears.

“I missed you so much,” He whispered in her ear, as if utterly unaware how receptive she would be to the sound of his voice, “I thought I was going crazy,”

“You’re never crazy, not to me,” She murmured back, feeling him kiss her cheek.

She begged him to kiss her lips next. God she’d missed him. She wanted him more than the syrupy air they stood in, had a greed for him she’d never known before. One kiss hadn’t been enough, she needed more.

She needed all of him.

The pit in her stomach that had laid stagnant for weeks, that had been a dormant pit flared with heat as he pulled away from her, his eyes soppy and dizzy as he watched her, her heart caving in through her chest.

She could kiss him right there and he would kiss her back. She didn’t know how she knew it but she did.

Sighing as she heard Layla shuffling behind her, crawling out of her hiding place behind the truck, she tilted her head forwards until it met his forehead, the feeling of her nose brushing against his having her squeeze him tighter.

“I missed you too, Steven,” She whispered, feeling his body tense as her words fell in blankets on his lips.

Her mouth was right there for the taking, his head screamed to him. Her plush lips were seconds away from his, the scene he’d imagined for himself over and over and over was right there.

Yet they both pulled away, meeting each other's longing gaze once more before they turned back to the truck.

The drum and bass was pounding in her chest, constricting her throat. Her top rode up her stomach, breasts hiked up enough to touch her chin, the mini shorts hugging her legs much too tight for comfort. But this was what they paid for. For her.

It wasn’t so bad as far as nightclubs went. It was fast paced which kept her shifts moving quick, the drinks were easy to memorise, and for the most part she was behind a thick bar that separated her from the handsier customers. But tonight she was on shot duty, her job was to entice as many willing buyers into slamming little vials of jäger that would only drain their wallets. She knew it was unethical, knew she should have more shame, but life was shit like that sometimes.

Matty had brought home a whole baby, Billie, who she loved more than life itself, though the poor little girl couldn’t escape the colic no matter how hard the five of them rocked her, burped her, winded her. She kept them up most nights, and who’d have thought babies were so expensive.

Billie and Matty alone took the majority of their funds, if not the bills on the house, if not them then it was Sammy being bailed out of the holding cell every other weekend for “disturbing public peace”, that one she could believe.

Joey, her clever clever boy, had managed to get a scholarship to see him through most of university, but that didn’t negate the fact he was so busy with his extra classes, being the genius child he was, he hadn’t the time for an extra job to contribute to the family.

And then there was Mikey.

Mikey, who she had pretended to ignore came home with bloodshot eyes or a manic sort of excitement, or a slackened jaw. Mikey, who had done what he did best and tried to make friends, only to get mixed with the wrong crowd and end up addicted. Mikey, who needed to be sent to the very expensive rehab downtown quickly if they had any chance of pulling him out of this habit before he found himself too deep.

Times were tough, eighteen-year-old Dove liked to think she was tougher.

She pretended to ignore the way the men’s eyes trailed her body like a public footpath, barely any acknowledgement in their eyes that she was human and not just a nice ass and a tight top. She pretended they didn’t brush against her one too many times for it to be an accident, or even the fact they tipped her bigger if they were brave enough to brazenly touch her stomach, the soft of her arms, the plushness of her legs as she walked through the sea of dancers.

They began to blur into one horrid mess of men she choked out thanks to as they handed her a twenty and told her to keep the change.

“You’re worth more than that, you know?” A voice interrupted her, where she stood near the bar, the waitress refilling her tray with shots.

Golden painted eyelids flicked up as she caught sight of the man, ready to give a catty remark when she saw someone leaning against the glass countertop, sticky residue of sweet alcohol under his neat suit. Certainly out of sorts in a place like this.

“You think?” She asked, boredly, picking at her fingernails as the man spoke. She couldn’t lie to herself, he was handsome. Not the most handsome man to ever flirt with her, though the others usually were slurring and asking if they would get their drinks free if they give her something nice in return. This man seemed sober, however, his drink small and barely touched, “Good to know,”

“I think a girl like you deserves to have the drinks brought to you on a silver platter,” He said cheekily, sipping his drink slowly as the bartenders looked between her and the man with teasing smiles.

“Don’t bother, Frank,” Eddie said, shaking a cocktail over his shoulder with little more than an eyelid batted, “She’s hard to get. Even said no to a date with me a few times,”

“How could I ever be so cruel to turn down such a stud?” She sneered, though the grin on her face told an entirely different story. She was kidding, ofcourse. “Such a pretty boy, and yet my answer is still the same. I don’t have time for boys,”

“Who said anything about boys?” Frank asked, aghast, placing a hand on his chest, “I would never expect a grown woman like you to want a boy. It’s a man you need.”

She was painfully aware of how much older than her he looked, easily approaching his thirty year mark if his grown attire and mature voice was anything to go off of.

It had been her birthday two weeks ago.

“A man, huh?” She asked cockily, rolling her eyes at the lust in his eyes as she became meaner to him. Men were so predictable. She treated him nice, he was interested. She was a bitch to him, he wanted her more. “Let me know if any of you find one,”

With that, she slid the silver tray of shots off the bar and took off into the sea of people, a little snigger leaving her lips at the way Frank watched her like a hawk.

She had certainly not been expecting a hand to grab her by the belt loops on her shorts, spinning her back to where she had just come from, only to be met with the grey eyes of the man at the bar that she thought she’d left in the dust.

“Are you out of your mind-” Dove cried, slapping his hand off her, though his smile only widened with a snicker of his own.

“One date?” He asked, tugging her closer by the front of her shorts, “One date is all I ask,”

“You don’t even know my name,” She bit back, back when she had it in her to be mean, when he hadn’t ripped the disobedience out of her.

His finger came up to flick the name badge on her chest that she purposely stole from someone else, the one reading Sandie. She never gave out her real name, not just for her safety but for her boys too.

“One date, Sandie,” Frank said, producing a business card out of his pocket, “Just your start date,”

She recoiled. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting what so ever. She’d thought he was flirting, she’d been so sure of it. But a job offer, that was something else.

Ripping the card out of his fingers, she read the sparkly red writing on the front.

for a good night, simply follow the yellow brick road

-frank osbourne

“This is the fakest looking piece of shit I’ve ever seen,” She retorted, which only made him laugh at her attempt of damaging his ego, “I bet this number isn’t even real,”

“No?” He goaded, stuffing his hand even further into his pocket to pull out a wad of twenties.

Her eyes widened as he wedged the roll of money into her front pocket, squeezing it into the fabric where it clung to her skin. Her mouth bobbed open once, perhaps to ask what he did for a living or if he was compensating for something smaller elsewhere. But the usual smartmouth she had on her was gone.

In fact she couldn’t even say anything when he picked up a shot off her tray and slammed it back right there and then on the dance floor, the black liquor dripping down the corner of his mouth.

He smiled at her, wiping it away with the back of his expensive cuff, diamond cufflinks she’d missed at first glance flashing under the strobe lights as the beat in the song dropped and rattled through her chest.

“Keep the change, honey,” He yelled, winking at her smoothly and disappearing back into the crowd as if he had never even been there.

She was embarrassed at how fast she pocketed his number.

Her body was jolting forwards, saved luckily by the seat belt wrapped over her chest, a small gasp crawling out her lips.

She realised with a quick look out the front of the window that they had come to an abrupt stop, a terracotta mountain face staring back at them through the bullet holes cracking the windscreen.

Seeing Layla’s stoic expression and the tension that immersed the car as she woke up, she felt whatever words had been said while she slept bite at her skin, rubbing the sleep dust from her eyes.

“Damn, girl. What did the brake pedal ever do to you?” She muttered, and she hated the way her tummy flurried at the sight of Steven’s bemused smile. She loved making him smile. She saw the bags that dragged at his soft doe eyes, wanted to grab his chin and force him to look at her to get just a moment more of his honeyed gaze, his pretty eyelashes, his expressive brows.

“We’re on foot from here,” Layla ordered, unbuckling herself and hopping out the side of the truck, slinging her rucksack over her back. Dove thought for a moment if she should ask what had happened while she had been asleep in the back seat, yet then she thought better of it. Layla was a bear she never wanted to poke with a stick, let alone more than she already had.

“Good sleep?” Steven asked, swivelling around his position in the passenger side, watching her carefully with a giddy smile.

She licked her lips, fiddling with the tips of her nails, where the odd one had begun healing, where they didn’t hurt as much since she’d stopped gnawing at her loose skin.

“Not as good as our sleepovers,” She mumbled into the quiet of the car, the air like the inside of a candy floss machine; sweet and wispy as he giggled.

“Never,” He replied, the two of them sharing a childish glee. They near jumped out their skin when Layla’s knuckles came down on Dove’s window, harsh and interrupting.

“Are we going, or what?” The woman said loud enough for them to hear the frustration in her tone even through the thick glass.

Guilt flashed across the younger woman’s face as she unlatched her door, the desert heat smacking her in the face like a hand.

Layla simply rolled her eyes at the two bumbling idiots, the way Steven seemed to half tumble out of his own seat just to be near her faster, the way it was clear from the way their hands kept falling to their sides they itched to touch even for a single moment.

She kissed her teeth, spinning on her heel as they looked to her for direction, feeling more akin to a babysitter now Marc didn’t have the body. She hated him when he was in control, hated him when he wasn’t. The entire idea of him was exhausting her, the knife twisting deeper when Steven told her Marc had agreed to disappear without a single goodbye for Steven’s sake.

It wasn’t that she wanted him back. But she was only human. She would have appreciated a real goodbye at least.

“This way. Map says they should be just on the other side of this gorge.” She called behind her, Dove and Steven trailing after her mindlessly, their eyes flicking up to one another wordlessly every few steps.

They took it that Layla wanted some time to herself as she took off on her own, muttering under her breath with a sneer from what they could see. She would keep close enough to listen for trouble, but far enough that she had some peace with her thoughts.

Dove felt a guilty sense of gratitude that her and Steven had a moment alone. She hadn’t known such calm in weeks.

“Marc said-” She started after a few minutes of quiet, “He said you didn’t know about all of this before. How are you doing, finding out you’re sharing your body with a whole other person I mean,” She prompted, chancing a glance at his face, his lip tugged between his teeth.

“Honestly,” He sighed, his tired eyes falling on her face that gazed back with nothing but worry. No judgement, no fear. Never from her. “Honestly, it’s frazzled me a bit. I mean it’s like being in a dream where I’m watching everything happen around me but I’m stuck in the backseat shouting how shit a driver Marc is-”

She couldn’t help the small chuckle that fell from her lips, the one that had him smiling too, not missing the way her shoulder bumped him lightly.

“It’s like I’m yanking on the reins, trying to get my own body back to being mine, and yet no one’s listening, you know?” He continued, and she felt the lump shift in the bottom of her throat.

Yes. I know exactly what you mean, Steven. I think you’re the only person who can ever know, only person since Grace who has ever known me-

And Marc. They were the only two to understand.

She nodded silently, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“Oh god, what am I saying?” Steven muttered cursing to himself, looking at her with sorrowful eyes, “Seth still has you, doesn’t he? It was only Khonshu who they punished.”

She nodded again, keeping an eye on the ground as the terrain became a bit more rocky, stepping down carefully where she saw Layla’s boot print.

“Love, you have to know, that evening in the museum-” He began, following in her footsteps, stopping when his foot slipped on the grainy bank, feeling her hand grab his own, the very touch catching his breath as he stepped down safely to the rest of the sand. “Thanks- in the museum, I never meant for you to get hurt-”

“Steven, it’s okay, you don’t need to say that,” She brushed off bashfully, turning her head to the ground and pulling away from his saccharine touch.

But he wouldn’t let her. She needed to hear it. Needed more than the fair and few nice words Marc had given her the past few weeks. Not when she’d endured so much, so much for him.

He grabbed her hand again, feeling the cold skin under his warm palm, not letting her slip away so fast this time as her eyes flicked up to his and stuck as they traipsed through the sand.

“No, you shouldn’t have been hurt that day. You shouldn’t have had any of this happen to you, and I’m sorry, Dove.” He said perhaps the most serious she’d ever seen him and all she could do was nod wordlessly. “I’m sorry you’re in this mess because of me,”

“It’s not your fault, Steven,” She murmured, squeezing his hand with a frown, “It’s not Marc’s either. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, end of.”

“Still, I’m sorry it happened,” He said, bambi brown eyes falling over the planes of her face, “I promise, Marc and I will find a way to fix it when this is over,”

She smiled again, and he could swear he could feel his chest rattling with his own heartbeat. It was terrifying the effect she had on every inch of his body, the way his stomach and heart seemed to butterfly the moment she looked at him, the way her eyes softened under his gaze, the same woman he’d wanted even after so much hurt.

“It’s not so bad anyway,” She said, her attention returning to the path Layla trekked along, her chocolate curls glistening in the sunset, her lithe figure just close enough to see where she followed her tablet’s directions, “Marc has been a big help, although I wouldn’t be surprised if he never wanted to see me again after this. I can’t imagine he likes me very much,”

“Who wouldn’t like you?” Steven asked, as if it were the most obvious question out there. He felt Marc writhe with a flick of sorrow inside the body, the feeling of being on the outside still unusual to him. “I think he likes you just fine.”

She shook her head with a doubtful smile, “If you say so, Steven,”

“No, honestly!” He pushed, and she only snickered more as he pulled her closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, “I mean don’t tell him this, but I think he likes you more than he even likes me,”

“Me?” She giggled, entertaining the cheeky look in his eyes with another nudge to his shoulder, “Why? All I’ve done is annoy him since the day I saw him in my room and thought he was you,”

“Well, you’re my best friend for one,” Her cheeks heated at that, “And you’re the kindest person to ever walk the planet. And you’re honest, most honest person I know,”

Her smile dampened, not that he seemed to notice as he was lost in a dizzy world of his own, his thumb stroking the back of her hand gently. Honest. That’s what he valued about her. That she was honest.

She felt the life suck out of her stomache.

“Steven-” She started, her chest sunken. She was sure she could feel every breath rattling around the empty chamber, grabbing her throat.

Liar. They whispered. Liar, liar, liar.

“No, I know you’re going to go all shy, but you are, you’re the only one who doesn’t hide stuff from me like I’m a child, like Marc, all he does is keep things from me,” It was torture. Actual torture. It was as though he was bringing the knife down onto her chest with every sweet word, words that he meant to soothe and warm, words that tore and mutilated her. “You would never do that, now would you?”

It took her a moment to realise he asked a question, took a moment for her to snap out of the wallowing guilt that threatened to drag her under.

She needed to tell him. Needed to have it out with him, tell him what a disgusting, used up mess she was, tell him what she had done to Frank, tell him what she had let happen to Grace. He would be horrified, he would hate her.

She needed to tell him.

But instead she said;

“Never, Steven,”

They continued through the crevice in the land until they came out the otherside, onto a wide sandy ledge, Layla already scouting out across the remaining land.

“There they are,” She called over her shoulder as Dove and Steven caught up, the former much quieter than she had been initially, “Let’s keep moving. Looks like they’re already inside. We’ll need to find another way to beat them to Ammit.”

“After you, love,” Steven said with a besotted smile, holding a hand out for Dove to follow, “Promise I’ll save you if you fall,”

She smiled at him kindly, the ache in her chest weakening as she focused on the task at hand. He would understand. He would understand her reasoning for lying, he had to understand-

She stepped on in silence, carefully following Layla’s bootprints down the steep decline, the sharp rock edges scrutinising her every footstep. It wasn’t for another thirty minutes until they stepped foot on even ground, nearing the deserted campsite, fires reduced to a pile of small embers, not a soul in sight.

That is, until the trio talked to the centre of the camp, all three of them on high alert for any of Harrow’s men lingering for intruders.

Dove had barely seen the taupe four legged creature behind her until it bleated in her ear with a low grunt.

She squealed, stumbling back into Steven’s awaiting arms that wrapped around her shaken figure, her eyes wide as she turned to see two large onyx eyes blinking down at her through inch long lashes, munching happily on some hay.

A camel.

She felt her face warm as she heard the other two begin to snicker at her skittishness, Steven’s chest rumbling behind her with laughter. He stroked her hair softly, “Told you I’d save you,”

“S-sorry,” She muttered, releasing herself from him with a sheepish grin. Her hand came up to the camel’s snout to give it a short rub, the peach fuzz tickling her palm.

“You’d be scared of your own shadow following you,” Layla teased in probably the nicest tone she’d used all day. It seemed a brisk walk where you could curse out your ex all you wanted did the world wonders.

“You try having a god of violence following you, see how comfortable you are with bastards sneaking up on you,” Dove retorted, using the tips of her nails to scratch behind the camel’s ear, his lashes batting sweetly down at her.

Layla set off further into the camp, now it was clear they were the only ones there, urging them towards where an old mine shaft entrance seemed to open up into the middle of another mountain crest, undoubtedly where Harrow’s men had entered.

“Let’s check for supplies,” The older woman suggested, tightening the strap of her backpack with a small squint, the last of the Egyptian sun beating down on them.

Dove nodded, heading off towards one of the nearest tents, seeing a handful of tools resting against crates, small army grade beds set up, raised off the floor. She dug around the few crates, to find the odd bit of clothing, jackets she didn’t need, a torch she flicked on only to find it had run out of battery.

She snagged a few bits of mountaineering rope, tucking it into her satchel Layla had given her from the truck, a pickaxe she held and quickly saw how impractical it was to carry around.

The knife stared at her from on top of the bed. She should pick it up, she knew it was smart to defend themselves, if not for her then for Layla. Or for Steven. Sure, she would be fine, but they were human.

Her hand shook as she held the leather handle, the blade a good eight inches and covered with a rusty brown liquid she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She wasn’t there anymore, she repeated to herself in a mantra, she wasn’t with him anymore. He was gone, he could only haunt her now. She did what she needed to-

Dove was quick to wipe the blood off the metal onto one of the nearby jackets, stopping only when she could see her dishevelled appearance staring back at her in the shine of the blade. Chucking it into the backpack with the rest of her find, she stepped out the tent, heading towards the big canopy she’d seen Steven head towards.

Their conversation from earlier still gnawed at her gut, twisting and writhing inside her like a rot that ate at her. She needed to tell him. He would despise her, he would find her sickening to so much as look at, but she needed to. He deserved the honestly he thought he found in her.

Once they’d stopped Ammit she would tell him. She would hate herself every second until that moment, hate herself every second after too. She would be alone again, she understood. But even if her sweet, sweet Steven forgave her and wanted anything to do with her, there was not a chance in any hell that Marc would allow her around him. He might even turn her in himself, he’ll probably regret saving her life after all. He might even carry out some of Khonshu’s vengeance, might just finish her off, make her pay for lying to Steven, lying to him, liar, liar, liar-

“I know I’m not alone-” There was shouting. But it wasn’t that of Harrow’s men, it wasn’t angered, it wasn’t an order. It was Steven. It was raw, wounded. “I know I’m bloody not alone. I’ve got Layla, and I’ve got Dove. She’s got my back more than you ever have, Marc,”

This was wrong. She shouldn’t be eavesdropping, especially when Steven and Marc seemed to be at odds with one another, it seemed intimate, like watching family fight. But Steven sounded upset, god she hated that sound, he sounded like a dog backed into a corner, unsure, lashing out.

There was no verbal response as she stepped closer, one hand on the drape that acted as a door, preparing to call for him, ask him to tell her everything so she could just fix it for him.

“I appreciate your concern, mate, I really do-” Steven continued, a bite to his words she rarely heard, a snappy tone worlds away from the sweetness he addressed her with. This was violating his privacy, this was wrong, she needed to go in, needed to help him- “So what if I do? You and Layla are divorced, and I definitely didn’t sign any papers or say any vows. The way I see it, I love her and even if theres the smallest chance Dove feels the same way about me, I don’t want you being a grumpy git ruining it for me-”

Her eyes widened. I love her. He loved her? Her heart pounded behind her chest, far harder than anytime it had from fear, from anger, from guilt even. It consumed her lungs, swelling with a warmth that numbed her legs, her hand drawing back the flap to enter the tent.

She had to see him. Had to hear him say it for real.

He cut himself off hearing her enter the tent, his breath catching in his throat. He prayed for a second it was Layla, it would be so much less humiliating, less to explain if it were, though he was sure he was about as flushed as a school boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar as he spun on his heel to see her gobsmacked face staring back at him.

“D-Dove?” He spluttered, nearly knocking himself on his arse as he stepped back, practically falling away from her, the very sight of her burning him, “W-we were talking- just talk about-”

“Say it again,” She said quietly, yet it spun the room into a stifling silence of its own.

Steven breathed heavily, gasping for a breath that seemed to come too late as he felt his brow begin to sweat, his ribs rattling with a difficult sigh.

“I don’t-don’t know what-what you’re…” He hadn’t even the heart to finish his sentence as she stepped fully into the tent, the drape slipping over her shoulder fluidly, her eyes wild, desperate.

“Say it again, Steven,” She begged, and he could hear her laboured breaths about as hard for her as it was for him.

He gulped, his mouth becoming as dry as it was outside of this little bubble they were stuck in, bringing the cuff of his jumper up to swipe away the sweat that bunched up at his temple.

“Well, the thing is,” He started shakily. He had to tell her, rip the plaster off. He could only hope she would ever, could ever feel the same, even if he was enamoured with her and she just wanted him to entertain herself for a while, he could die happy. Even if she realised he really was the weirdo everyone at work avoided like the plague, he would live forever grateful to have been given a chance. He had to tell her, her eyes were too big, too warm to say no to, “See, the thing, love, is I think- no, I-I know, I-” He continued, his arms and legs numb with the shock of seeing her here, shock of what he was confessing after so long, “I love you,”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, her mouth gaping open, showing off her teeth that blew a held breath past them, her chest rising and falling irregularly as they settled under the weight of his words.

“You don’t need to say anything- or do anything-” He carried on after she stared at him with a gobsmacked expression and he began to fear the worst, “or even feel the same-” He felt like an idiot, felt like his face, chest, body was on fire, “If you want to stay friends, that’s alright with m-”

It only took her two full strides before she had grabbed his face with a fervour she had only ever dreamt about and taken his lips onto her own, silencing his bumbling words hotly.

Her body melted against his, pressing up against every crevice as he gasped into her mouth, hands squeezing into nervous fists at his sides before they seemed to wake up and grab her hips, feeling the plush fat underneath her shirt.

He made a sound, somewhere between shock and joy, something that slipped into a whine as her fingers wove through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Wait-” He gasped in the small moment they broke apart, his eyes fluttering open to see her face more at peace, more blissed than he’d ever seen, “Dove-”

“More.” She mewled, her face scrunching in desperation, brows pulling together as if in pain to be parted.

It took little to no thought on his part what came next after hearing her plea. Steven had never been one to take control, never thought he would be kissing a woman with so much heat, let alone her.

He tugged her closer, harder than before, so sudden she all but fell into him where he was waiting with dry lips that pressed against hers so hard she could feel his teeth behind them. His hands wrapped around her waist, clawing at the bottom of her spine, fingertips pressing into her skin as if worried he’d feel her slip through them like sand.

She breathed heavier into his mouth, whining like a dog for affection, her fingers weaving further into his chocolate curls and squeezing.

He gave an open mouthed bleat of surprise as she bit down on his lip, his own hand migrating up, up under her shirt, following her bare spine, feeling every groove, every mole, every millimetre of skin with a fire that burned her with feverish tingles. He seemed to freeze when he got to her bra, as if to forget such things existed, because he really did forget where and who and what they were wearing, his mind entirely unravelled, shedding all thoughts other than her, her, her.

He didn’t care that her shirt rode up as his arm pushed on, blunt nails pawing at her skin, until they reached the base of her neck, further until he grabbed at the roots of her own hair. He didn’t care for the surprise in her yelp as he flipped the two of them around, pressing her against the post in the centre of the tent, the thick wood scratching at her back, his hand protecting her head as he kissed even harder.

“Steven-” Marc’s voice pulled him out of his paradise. He couldn’t believe he was kissing her, that she was letting him kiss her. He couldn’t believe the way she grabbed at him just as tight, as if she felt the same frenzied need for his body on hers that he did, as only shown by the way she tried to pull him back when he disconnected their lips, “Steven, stop it. Steven-”

“Steven-” She whined, and if there was any chance of him listening to the American man screaming at him from the mirror, the same mirror he had been in a heated row with when she had first entered, that flew out of the window the moment he heard her soft voice in his ear.

He was so sure he had never wanted anything so badly in his life.

“Steven, stop it. This isn’t safe.” Marc tried to command again, his voice a venomous hiss, thick with something sad, only Steven didn’t listen.

Instead, his lips migrated to the bottom of her lips, catching the corner of them, his hand in her hair tugging tighter as she whispered his name again, the laboured breaths rattling against her chest that pressed impossibly closer to him. His hand reached up past her head, ripping the mirror from the nail on the wooden beam, tossing it far enough away he barely heard the clink of the glass breaking into three pieces.

“What was that for?” She whispered, her breath catching when he moved further down her face, a nip to her jaw, before he reached the soft, velvety skin of her neck, the air sucking out of her at the point of contact.

“Marc talks too much,” Was all he said, before he dove into kissing her pulse point, the beat jackhammering against her plush skin, vibrating on his lips as he settled back into kissing the very soul out of her.

She gasped a laugh, right hand remaining in the thicket of his hair as the other detached to reach for the toned fat of his hip bone, the sensation making him groan, flinching as her fingers glided under his own shirt.

He was a man starved, kissing harder and harder with every whimper of approval he received, a note to not stop whatever it was he was doing if it meant she would keep sounding so heavenly.

He tensed as her hand moved over his stomach, feeling over the wear and tear scars he had always wondered how he got. Ofcourse, being who he was now, he knew they were from Marc running all over the world, risking his skin for a moon god they both despised, the same skin she stroked softly where they raised in ugly white lines from his stomach.

He wanted to say something clever, say something to make her laugh, maybe about how Marc wasn’t as good a fighter as he seemed, but his every brain cells vanished when her fingertip so much as traced the hem of his trousers, teasing him with a slight tug at the material.

He felt the cotton brush against where his boner crushed against his soft tummy, harder and more vulnerable than he had ever felt it. The months spent pining after this woman did him no favours, granted him no justice as he melted at the knees under her touch. He felt her smile, not cockily nor with any semblance of lust, just happy. Happy to have him so close, feel him pouring over her with an affection she never deserved.

Feeling no signs of rejection, she tugged at his hemline again, her fingers looping under his boxers this time, the sensation of the warm dusk air flooding his underwear and hitting his sensitive tip like a freight train, the feeling enough to rip him from kissing at her throat with a gasp, his forehead falling down to rest on her collarbone, eyes squeezed together in a near pained mewl.

“Love-” He murmured, hand still grabbing at the back of her locks, pulling tighter when she tugged his clothes again, exposing him for the briefest of seconds to the thick air they’d found themselves in, “You make it so hard to think when you do that,”

“Do what?” She asked, the innocence in her tone snuffed out by the lust twinkling in her eye as she looked to him, gaze bleary, face puffing out from the thrill of it all, her chest rising between the two of them, taking in enough air to sustain a bird mid-flight.

He smiled back at her, a look of adoration and pure, unbloodied happiness smothering his face as he leaned in to kiss her lips a few more times, each one a little braver than the last as he nibbled at her lips, albeit a little too excited. But she didn’t care, it only made her smile wider.

“I want you so badly,” He said, the tips of their noses meeting as his forehead pressed against hers, sharing each other's breaths as her eyes shut in a dizzy sweet glow.

“Have me,” She replied without a beat of hesitation, pressing a kiss to his lips again, “I was always yours to have,”

If he thought he couldn’t get harder, he was sorely mistaken.

His stomach flurried with what felt like a sea of warmth that spread down to his legs, numbing his body as it crawled over his olive skin. He wanted to devour her with a hunger he had never known, wanted to commit every inch of skin to memory, wanted to kiss her until they both lost breath and then kiss her some more, even if his lips turned blue and his brain shut off from deprivation, because he was already feeling giddy from the taste of her alone.

“Really?” Steven asked, his nut brown eyes fat with puppy love, the hearts practically swirling in his gaze like a comic book, “I’ve wanted this for so long. Pictured a bed and candles and chocolates, the whole shebang,”

She giggled at his Steven-like ways that hadn’t faded away even when his lust was as clear as the boner that poked at her leg.

“The whole shebang?” She echoed with an amused smile, but the desire for more had yet to die out, “That sounds lovely, Steven, but there’s just one problem.”

“Which is?” He asked, the frown that flashed over his face smoothing out when he felt her kiss him again, a sharper bite to his lip than before, a harsher tug at his boxers to where she stood patiently waiting, her touch edging even closer to where he wanted her most.

“I want you now.” She whispered, trailing off into a whine, “Please,”

He stared at her with a slack jaw, only spurring her to kiss along the bone with a sweetness soft enough to rot teeth.

Pulling her hair back firm enough to move her away, not hard enough to hurt, he forced her back into his line of sight again, his eyes darker than she would have thought possible for a sweetheart like him.

“You ask me like that ever again and I’ll give you anything,”

A breathy laugh bled into a gasp as his hand released her head, moving down to her flowy trousers, the elastic waist giving in almost too easily as his large, warm hand skirted across the skin of her stomach, goosebumps chasing after the tips of his fingers as they brushed gently over her skin too quickly.

He wanted to kiss every spot of the velvety plushness he could get to, but he could save that for another day, instead he knew exactly where he wanted the most.

“Are you sure-”

“Please,” She whined, his fingers that lingered at her bare hipbone, freezing for a moment before they edged towards the lacey hem of her underwear.

The two of them gasped as his shaking hands went further, crossed the line in the sand, went further down. Steven was sure the air was sucked entirely from his lungs when he brushed over soft, neat hair, as if the feeling of it woke him up from whatever trance he was in.

“Oh my god,” He whispered against her cheek, nose pressed against her temple as she mewled under his palm, melting into where his other hand held her waist, “Oh god-”

He dared himself to go further, though he was sure his heart was in his throat. He could stake his life on waking up in his bed any second now, ankle tied up, a raging boner against his sleep shorts. This was too much for his poor, tender pulse, the sound of the thumps ringing loud as her voice in his ears.

Shaky hands ventured down, until they reached her waiting entrance, already soaked from where his kisses had weakened her insides, melting her into putty under his saccharine lips.

Fearing she would moan all the louder, her hands returned to his shoulder blade, looping under his arm that was busy trailing light touches over where her cunt waited patiently for more of him. She pulled his face back to hers, kissing him hard where she could groan comfortably, the sheer thrill and terror congealing in her gut if they were found in this position. It made her want him more, because no one had ever wanted her, her, so much as to risk their own life.

She felt herself squeak into his searing lips, a drawn out kiss that branded her for all to see, all to know that she was entirely his, when his index fingers curled up, exploring, mapping out what got the best reaction.

“You’re so-” He tried to say. Wet. But she had pulled him back for more the moment he tried to pull away, groaning as his digits slipped between her sex effortlessly.

It was then that he braved another finger, pushing just that bit further into her, still relatively unsure about what he was doing.

“You can go harder,” She seemed to sense his hesitation, but then why wouldn’t she. She knew him sometimes better than he knew himself. Read the exhilaration that faltered on his face as if as easy as flipping a page in a book, “You won’t hurt me,”

Steven nodded, the confirmation exactly what he needed to push his fingers into her further, eyes wild with lust as he watched her face contort in pleasure, her cushion walls squeezing his fingers tightly as he went deeper.

“Like that?” He said, the bite of her lip taking his attention wholly. He tried to hide the glee, the smugness in his tone as he said it, but when he pulled them out only to enter her again and she gave a mewl under her breath, his face was entirely cheshire cat.

“Yes,” She said, and he could have sworn it was something out of a dirty movie. Her face was something out of this world as he kept up with his movements, his mouth watering as her eyes flicked open to stare up at him, entirely at his mercy.

His breath was swept from him for the fourth time that day.

The thousands of years of faces passing this early, the sculptures and paintings even the greatest of hands had crafted, and yet it was his rough, tired digits that created the pinnacle of them all.

Feeling sure of himself with how his ministrations so far had been received, he pulled his fingers from her cunt, trailing back up gently to where he knew her clit would be. He fumbled for a moment, the spur of the moment confidence he’d found dwindling as he realised he was still as inexperienced as he had been the day before, that although he knew women’s anatomy, he had never actually touched a woman like he was now.

Again feeling him waver beneath her, his chocolate eyes dopey and pleading for help from anyone listening, she grabbed hold of his wrist and moved him to where she needed.

“Here, Steven,” She whispered, jolting into his chest when his warm digits met her sensitive nerves. She gave him a soft, loving smile and kissed his lips gently, not pitying but simply adoring his Steven-ness that she felt herself bathing in, felt his entire being shooing away every dark speck of dust that crowded her head too often these days.

“Here?” He asked, circling the small bundle gently, her head dropping to his shoulder with a knee weakened neediness. She drew a sharp breath, the bliss wiped from her face and met with a hot ecstasy, raw and soul sucking as he continued to kiss her cheek where her face buried into his neck more.

“There,” She moaned again, her fingers pulling harder at his hair, clawing at his back like an animal begging for mercy, “Fuck, Steven,”

It was muffled into his jacket, and yet the sound of his name said like that only had him pulling her closer, practically keeping her standing as her legs went to jelly, and he rubbed over her nerves faster, her arms shaking as she yanked at his clothes, his hair, anything she could hold onto.

“I love you so much,” He confessed into her hair; he just needed to say it again. If this, all of this, even without what they were doing, even if it meant he could hold her in his arms tight enough to hear her hummingbird heart against his for the rest of existence, he would die happy.

“I love you-I love you so much,” She returned in a needy whine that made him growl and move his fingers all the more faster. He pressed into her more, his cock raging against his seams to be inside her, to have her as much as she’d asked for, her body pressing harshly against the wooden post behind her as his legs straddled her thigh that shook weakly.

He was everywhere. His voice was in her ear, his chest was in her face, his scent was in her nose, his fingers were inside her, his hand tugged her even closer where it spread widely across her spine.

She felt it pooling in her stomach before she could put a name to it, her squeals and pants getting lost in his neck as he moaned with her, and she realised his own sex was pressing angrily against her, a problem that only made her cry out more, grab at him harder.

“Steven-I’m gonna-” She gasped, pressing her forehead to his jaw, “I’m gonna-”

If Steven wanted to say something, it seemed lost to his glazed eyes that watched her like a man on death row, took note of every facial feature as if he’d ever be able to forget how she looked when she came.

She felt the heat in her stomach fizzing up, felt the whole of her pelvis knotting together, her legs jittering as they fought to hold her up, Steven’s body taking the brunt of it as she all but fell into him, dragging his lips onto hers in a harsh, toothy kiss, her moans spilling onto his tongue, his fingers never halting or slowing in their circles.

“Fuck-” She cursed, the last of her pleasure seizing her body, ebbing and flowing away from her until the touch on her clit became too much and she grabbed his wrist desperately and pulled him away, “Steven,”

Fearing he had done it incorrectly, he pulled away as if burned, his free hand immediately freeing her waist to cup her cheek, eyes searching her face for signs of disappointment.

“Was that not it? Was that not right?” He whispered, face heating in regret, only to be met with a breathless smirk before she pulled him back towards her with a quick yank of his sweater.

She kissed him much sweeter this time, a worn out giggle weaving in between their lips, pulling away with dazed eyes that stared at him as if he’d handed her the entire universe in one go.

“That was perfect, Steven,” She said, pecking him again when he seemed unconvinced, “I’ve never been so happy as I am right now, here with you,”

“Neither have I,” He said, his gaze entirely dopey with love as he watched her breaths even out, lips twitching into a sweet smile as she stared back at him.

He wasn’t lying. He’d give her anything if she asked for it.

She seemed to snap out of their honey glazed daze, fingers fiddling with the somewhat softening pull at his trousers, her nail that had surprisingly not been mauled by her stress for a week or so, trailing over where his sensitive tip pressed at his leg, the sensation drawing in a breath from his chest once more.

“Wait,” He started, holding her wrist gently, pulling her hand up to his mouth where he gave her palm a gently kiss, “I want to just be here with you, we don’t have to do that,”

She smiled, though her eyes seemed incredulous that he would deny such an offer. She couldn’t say she was entirely surprised however, Steven had this way of proving her wrong about everything she worried he would be, had this way of making her feel ridiculous for ever expecting anything but softness from him.

“Don’t you want a turn?” She asked quietly, his nose brushing against hers gently as he shook his head, “I just want to make you happy,”

He pulled away then at those words, smiling at her disbelievingly, “If you think that didn’t make me happy, then you’re a very, very silly girl who needs convincing, I guess,”

Without giving her much room to reply, he grabbed her in for another searing kiss, before pressing small pecks all over her mouth sweetly.

“Don’t worry,” He said with a smirk and a mischievous twinkle in his otherwise soft brown eyes, “I’m more than happy to convince you over and over and over again once we get home,”

Her cheeks ached from the smile that grew at the thought of home, home for the two of them.

There was no place like home.

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 @thebestrouge @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @dumbhxeredrose @badbishsblog @jvexoxo @sxftie-mari @mythical-goth @cillmeslowly @wildwallflower24 @ameliashideout @moonsua1 @latenightcravingz @blackqueengold @jesfreedark @uncle-eggy @onefinnedwonder-fm

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector imagine #moon knight x reader #moonknight imagine #moonknight x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant smut #Marc Spector smut #not safe for minors

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