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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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Life in the City 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You nurse your glass of wine. You're not much of a drinker, you mostly brought it for Melanie. Despite her agitation, she seems to be enjoying it. She snuggles up to Clark as you sit awkwardly at the other end of the couch.

You really shouldn't be here. The longer you sit in silence and pretend to care about the movie, the more you think of leaving. You definitely crashed their party and they're not being very subtle.

You reach for a handful of popcorn to busy yourself. The crunch blocks out Melanie's shameless whispers. She doesn't get much back but she doesn't give up. You can't find an exit plan that isn't completely obvious.

Finally, she quiets down upon getting a grunt from Clark. She nestles against him and rests her head on his shoulder as he drapes an arm over her. You can't help the pang of loneliness. You're not jealous, it's just been a while since you had someone to snuggle aside from your stuffed hippo.

You sit back as you swallow down the last of the kernels with a swig of wine. You put the wine glass on the glass coaster Melanie kept reminding you of. As the evening sets in, the room is only lit with the glow of the television. The haze of colours and alcohol itches on your eyelids.

You yawn and plant your elbow on the armrest, leaning into it as you tilt your head. Your lashes close, only for a moment before you twitch. You feel a tickle on your hip. You lift your head slightly and peer down from the corner of your vision.

Is he... touching you? Maybe it's a mistake or he doesn't realise he's doing it. You freeze, mortified. You should clear your throat or move or something...

You can't. His fingertips brush down your thigh and back up it, lingering just along the curve of your ass. You reach for your wine and he rescinds his hand, curling his arm around Melanie as she gives a delighted moan.

What was that? You're overthinking this. He probably thought it was her. Somehow. You're not sure. He's a nice guy, a stranger still, he wouldn't just touch you.

You drain the last of your wine and stand up, "just gonna pop into the bathroom."

"Whatever," Melanie dismisses as she rubs Clark's chest.

You don't look at him but you swear you can feel his gaze on you. You circle around the back of the couch and find your way to the bathroom. You close yourself in and shake the jitters from your nerves.

You're tired and you don't know if it even happened. You've been drinking and maybe just maybe you're a little tipsy. Well, at least the movie is almost done. You can try to catch the last bus or turn in for the night if Melanie lets you have the couch.

You get yourself together and go back out. As you near the couch, Melanie and Clark quickly part, their sloppy kiss ending in a pop. You try not to give away your discomfort and resume your seat, pressing yourself against the armrest as small as you can.

"I'm getting tired, sweetie," Melanie whines.

"The movie's not done," his voice is rocky and low.

"I've seen it," she pouts.

"Well, I haven't. If you want to lay down, I'll be in when it's over," he says coolly but not unkindly.

"You can finish it tomorrow," she simpers.

"Hon, you got a friend here," he reminds her, "don't be rude."

He looks at you and sends you a smile you barely glimpse as you shy away.

"I never even invited her," she hisses under her breath.

"Go to bed, Mel," he retorts, his timbre steady, "you've had too much wine."

"I haven't had enough," she snarls.

"Honey," he softens his tone, "remember what we talked about."

She's quiet as she stares at him. You can only see the back of her head. She sniffs and leans in to kiss his cheek, "sure, sweetie, I'll be in bed..." she stands, tickling his jawline, "waiting for you.”

You give a sheepish ‘good night’ but she doesn't answer, or even look your way. You dip your chin down, embarrassed by her indifference and turn your focus back to the television. Well, not much longer and you can hide in the dark and wait for morning.

Clark bends forward to take the bowl of popcorn off the table. He sits back and offers you some as he sidles a bit closer. You shake your hand and murmur, “no thanks.” All the salt and butter is already curdling in your tummy.

He shoves a few kernels in his mouth and chews as he watches the screen. You don't enjoy it as much now. Your nostalgia sears away as the tension rises between you and him. The kiss that should be a resolution is suddenly awkward and cringe worthy.

“So,” he swallows, “how long have you known Melanie?”

His voice is like thunder in the lull. You rub your arm, his shadow lurking at the edge of your eye line as you keep your head straight. You clear your throat, “for a while… since high school.”

“Oh, wow, she never mentioned you,” he says, “what's that like ten years or something.”

“About that,” you answer.

“I mean, don't know why it wouldn't have come up. A friend who brings snacks? That's the best kind,” he puts the popcorn down and grabs one of the coloured napkins to wipe his fingertips.

“Um, I stayed… back in our hometown. Went to school in the next city but lived at home so… just moved here to see what it's really like,” you shrug.

“Oh, just got here? How are you liking it?”

“It's… blurry,” you chuckle nervously. Didn't he want to see the end? He's talking over the whole thing.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he stretches his arm across the back of the couch as he reclines. He sets his knees wide as his hand rests just behind your head. “I grew up on a farm. When I got here, I was so lost.”

“A farm?”

“Oh, yeah, big wake up call, but there's not much fodder for journalism in a field,” he snorts.

“Right, you're a journalist?”

“Sure am, with The Daily Planet. Little magazine you may have heard of.”

You blanch and nearly slap yourself, “Daily Planet? Clark… Kent?”

“Ha, so you've heard of me.”

“Yeah, uh, I…” you pause. He's older than you expected but you're not surprised. Melanie always had a type. “I wrote a review of your work in my undergrad.”

“You did?” He sounds amused as he leans a bit closer.

“Sure, well, we had to choose a contemporary writer…”

“I'm flattered. You did journalism?”

“Not exactly, it was just one class,” you wilt into the armrest.

“So what do you do?”

“Well, not what I studied,” you sigh, “I work a desk job. Data analysis.”

“Riveting stuff,” he kids and nudges you playfully when you don't laugh. “You know, Mel never mentioned she grew up in a small town. She always just seemed like she was from around here.”

“Uh, yeah, well, she hated the place so…” you scratch your chin as the hest crawls up your face. “How long have you and her, er, been dating?”

“Well, three months officially. Before were were just ‘having fun’,”he brings his hands up to curl his fingers in quotation, “that's what she called it anyway.”

“Oh, well uh, she seems to really like you,” you utter dumbly.

“Yeah, I think so,” his smirk is laced in his tone.

The room goes completely quiet and suddenly the drum track begins. You watch the credits roll as Clark faces the television. He laughs, “oops, guess I wasn't paying attention.”

He drags his arm from the back of the couch as he stands, his hand grazing your shoulder. He stretches and you notice the hem of his shirt lift, a peek of his muscled stomach above the elastic of his sweatpants. You quickly dart your eyes in the other direction.

“I should… go check on her, but can I get you anything? Water? Help dilute the wine?” He offers.

“Er, well, no, I can get some myself. I’d hate to infringe–”

“Well, I wouldn’t ask if it was a problem,” he says.

“Really, it’s fine, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

He nods and glances towards the hall, “you know, it didn’t bother me having you here. I’m sorry about her.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know she forgot. She’s done it to me too. Before we were… official,” he says the last word with punctuated syllables.

“Oh, I’m sorry–”

“See, it’s not that hard to apologise so, I’ll make sure she does,” he interjects, “and I’ll let you settle down. It’s late and I’m sure you’re exhausted. Coming all the way here after work. You really went out of your way and I had a great night. Thanks.”

“Er, yeah, sure,” you murmur, “thanks for… joining in.”

He reluctantly leaves you as you watch him with bated breath. You’re so frigging awkward. You wait until you hear the bedroom door shut before you get up, taking the wine glass with you.

You go to the kitchen and rinse out the glass, refilling it with fresh water. You bring it back to the living room and move a pillow against the armrest, pulling down the fluffy throw onto the cushions. You shut off the television and tuck yourself in, the blanket too short, even for you.

What a lame Friday night. You could’ve had more fun alone.

🌆

It takes a bit for you to even feel tired. Your body is achy and sore but your mind is racing. Finally, you manage to close your eyes for more than a few minutes. You roll over to face the back of the couch and nestle into the pillow. You yawn as you feel yourself drifting.

A high pitch leaks into your ears. You twitch and your lashes flutter. It’s just the pipes or a siren somewhere in the distance. The city sure is loud. You hear it again, something more akin to a squeak.

You shift onto your back as your stomach tingles. You cover your face with your arm and try to ignore the irritating sound but it just doesn’t stop. Your eyes snap open as you rip your arm off your head, realising what it is.

The soft low growls in return, the steady tap against the wall… it’s not the pipes or a siren. It’s Melanie. And Clark. They’re…

You flip the pillow over your head and bend your arm around it, blocking out the noise. Just when you think you can’t get any lower. You’ve been there before. The third wheel, the wing woman. High school was just you standing against the wall as Melanie made out with boys at a party you weren’t even invited to.

Maybe things haven’t changed that much. Maybe it’s that you didn’t see what was right in front of you. The one friend you thought you had, forgets you just like everyone else. This whole thing was a mistake. Moving to the city just so you can be her tag-along.

You wallow in your self-pity and sink down into your unconscious. The world slips away from you as your dreams ripples with muddy colours. You feel as if you're floating, bobbing on soft waves, disoriented and dazed.

You wake to the clink of glass. You groan as your head aches, the cushions stiff and unforgiving. Your neck is knotted just above your shoulders. You rub your cheek and stay as you are, still under the pillow as you get your bearings. You remember where you are and cling to the dregs of sleep in your eye.

Cool air tinges your skin, your leg hooked over the blanket. You hug the crumpled throw as the night seeps icily though your pajamas. The thin short set speckled in the little red hearts offer little warmth. You reach back to pull the shorts to your thigh as it rides up and tilt onto your back.

As you do, you sense a shadow over you. You peek under the slits of your eyelids and see a figure standing just a few feet from the other end of the couch. Long breaths blow into the air. It’s too large to be Melanie. It’s him. Is he watching you?

You can’t move. You’re paralysed in horror. Why is he just standing there? Goosebumps raise on your skin. You feel a whisper against your hip where he touched you earlier. It just can’t be that. He’s too nice.

You don’t know what to do so you close your eyes and lay completely still. You measure your breath as you wait. There’s a soft thunk as he sets down a glass on the table by the armrest and walks up the side of the couch.

Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move…

He tugs on the throw and spreads it over you as best he can. His fingers drag up your arm and he lingers, stroking your cheek as you resist the urge to pull away. He lets out a low growl and lumbers away, swiping up his glass as he goes.

You let your eyes open and catch a glimpse of his silhouette. His back is bare and thickly corded. The moonlight limns his muscles just before he disappears into the hall. You shudder as you release the heavy breath from your chest.

The bedroom door snaps shut as you clutch the blanket tight. It starts again. Melanie’s moans, Clark’s grunts, and the knocking of the bed frame. Quicker than before, almost furious. You just want this night to end.

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sp-by-april · 1 month

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🤍+🍒+⚡️ (I love rough Mysterion 🤭 Gotta let out steam somehow)

MYSTERION YES YES YES!! Mysterion x FR, with a Rough & Ready platter, ORDER UP!

Mysterion x Villain!Reader

[Order at the Smut Cafe!] [Kenny McCormick Master List]

I was in the back office of the Peppermint Hippo. There was a safe I was in the middle of cracking. I had a tip that Mysterion was raiding the place that night. I figured I could sneak in, grab the goods, and sneak out.

Then I heard the sounds of blows landing outside the door. I knew it was him.

I grabbed my safe cracking kit and shoved it back in my bag. I was about to dive under the desk and hide when the door swung open.

I was right, it was Mysterion.

His head tilted when he saw me. He stepped into the office and locked the door behind him. I forgot to lock the fucking door. What a goddamn rookie mistake.

He stalked towards me with his fists clenched, “Please tell me you’re not working for these assholes?”

I hadn’t seen him this mad since we broke up. I hadn’t seen him since we broke up at all. I couldn’t believe it had been that long.

I shook my head, “I was just cracking the safe,”

He rolled his eyes, “You knew I’d be here,”

His expression softened a little and he slid his palm over my cheek, “You knew I’d be here,”

I wasn’t sure what to say. He had totally disarmed me.

He kissed me and I dropped my bag as my hands went straight for his cheeks. I pulled him in deeper and our tongues rolled over each other. The more we kissed, the more eager I was to get some relief from the pooling warmth between my legs.

He pulled me close and I could tell by the way he throbbed against me that he was feeling something similar.

We may fight on different sides, we may argue and whatever else... but we always had great sex.

When our kiss broke he scanned my face, “Why do you keep doing this shit?”

“This is why we broke up. You never fucking knew me,” I pushed on his chest but he didn’t budge, “You never fucking wanted to know me,”

His eyes narrowed and he started to yank off his gloves, “I do know you,”

“No, you don’t,” I said, returning his indignance with my own venom.

Suddenly, he spun me around and pushed down on my shoulders until I was bent over the desk.

He hiked up my dress with one hand and the other traced over my naked slit.

He leaned over me and his hot breath fell on my ear as he began to push his fingers into me, “I knew you wouldn’t be wearing any panties,”

He started to put pressure on that sweet spot inside of me and massage it just the way I loved. I whined until he put more pressure on and then I couldn’t help but moan.

His breath hitched as he studied me, “I know how you like to be touched,”

My back arched and my legs started to shake in my high heels as my muscles tightened up. I tried to fight the orgasm, I wanted to prove a point.

It was all in vain.

“I know what you look like, what you sound like, what you feel like when you’re about to come,” He kissed my ear and pulled his fingers out of me.

I laid against the desk and panted in confusion.

Did he just.. fucking edge me?

I could feel him behind me, tugging and pushing at his suit until he was free. One thing about my ex: He had a great cock. He always got so wet and sticky for me, it turned me on more than anything. I loved to tease him and play with him. Sometimes I just loved looking at it.

He even denied me that as he pushed right inside of me.

I gasped as my body was forced to quickly stretch and accommodate his width.

Then his hips started to move and I lost myself completely. He didn’t start slow. He didn’t build up to a rhythm, he started hard and fast.

He leaned over me again and slammed into me so hard that my entire body twitched, “I know exactly how you like to be fucked,”

His hand ran up my back and slid over my throat. He curled his hand around it and used his hold on me to pull me back even harder onto him.

I was completely intoxicated.

He was right, he knew how to fuck me.

My every muscle seized up, not only did my back arch, but my toes curled inside of my expensive shoes. I saw every star in the sky as all the adrenaline, pleasure, and resentment swirled together and crashed into me like a wave. A loud, quivering moan spilled out from my mouth, and the soft, silky walls he’d been pounding into fastened up around him and I gripped him tight, like I needed him to breathe.

It really felt like I needed him to breathe.

His body jackknifed over me and he squeezed my throat as his hips bucked into me. He growled low in my ear and all of it just made my orgasm even more intense. He held himself as deep inside as my body would let him and his cock pulsed so violently that I felt everything as he pumped me full of hot, sticky spurts.

“I fucking know you,” He panted in my ear.

I decided to let him think he was right if it meant he kept fucking me like that.

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rems-writing · 4 months

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Until we meet again, my love

Pairing: Anubis!Seonghwa x MoonKnight!reader

Summary: Marc and the reader have been shot to death by Arthur Harrow as they are trying to stop him from releasing Ammit from her ushabti prison and wreaking havoc. As the twins fall to their death, they are separated as they land in the Duat. Taweret, the goddess of childbirth, is currently calming Marc and Steven down as they have found each other and are trying to escape the Duat. They both woke up in what appears to be a mental hospital but... what of his twin? Where are they? And why are they not with Marc and Steven?

Warning(s): Implications of sex but nothing actually happened, simp!Seonghwa, gn!reader

Genre: Fluff with an angsty beginning, some spicy moments, and a fluffly ending

Nets: @blossomnet @mirohs-aurora-society

Context: Anubis is the ancient Egyptian god of the dead long before Osiris came about. During his funerary practices, he would ensure lost souls that they would be cared for and respected as they move on and live in the Field of Reeds.

Once again, thank you to @ja3hwa and @acupoftaewithsomesuga for helping me decide which god goes with which member

"WHERE'S MY TWIN?!" Marc yelled out in a panic.

"As much as I would love to ask many questions, Ms. Taweret, where is Marc's twin? We really need to find them!" Steven agreed nervously.

"I'm not sure, gentlemen. And I am so sorry. Rest assured; we will find them so all of you can move on." Taweret said in a soothing voice. The hippo goddess, albeit calm on the outside, was panicking along with them. She was supposed to welcome and guide all three of them across the Duat and into the Field of Reeds.

'Oh dear. I need to find them fast.'

Little did she know that another god slipped out from the shadows and snatched the other Spector out of selfishness...

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

You groaned as you woke up first and stretched before sitting up in bed. Your eyes were bleary so you rubbed the sleepiness out of them before blinking rapidly.

Wait...

Your room never looked like this.

Pristine white walls surrounded the room and you noticed a pc sitting atop a desk. It was black and chrome silver and there were figurines everywhere, along with Lego sets. You narrowed your eyes and leaned in a bit before retracting yourself.

The Lego set had pyramids and the Lego figurines looked eerily a lot like the henchmen/followers that Arthur recruited. You gulped nervously as you saw the Lego figurine version of Arthur with his stupid cane and his stupid smirk. More Lego figurines popped up in your vision and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

There were four Lego figurines that depicted Marc, Steven, Marc's wife Layla, and you.

Finally, you looked behind the figurines and your eyes widened.

Two tall Lego action figures were battling it out. One looked like Ammit once she was released from her ushabti prison. Even in Lego form, she looked terrifying. The other looked like Khonshu, that fuck ass old bird Egyptian god of the moon.

Just what was going on?

You felt cold and you covered your nude self with a blanket.

Wait a minute...

WHY WERE YOU NAKED?!

That's when you saw it. And you wanted to throw up.

Clothes were strewn all over the floor, alongside opened condom packets. Your eyes then looked downwards to see a human arm wrapped around your waist.

From the looks of it, that arm was holding you tight. You felt pain on your neck and you realized that whoever you slept with, they left a lot of hickies on your neck. Your lower body was also aching and you lifted the covers slightly to see the grip marks on your thighs.

If you truly did have sex with someone, they must've went hard on you.

You tried to wiggle your way out of this person's hold yet to no avail. They were holding onto you so tight that you felt like you were being glued to the bed. Finally, you freed yourself from your captor's grasp and went still as the person groaned sleepily and turned to the other side.

'HOLY SHIT! HE HAS SCRATCHES ON HIS BACK! I SEROUSLY NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!'

You quickly but quietly snuck out of bed and tiptoed your way over to the first door that you saw. When you opened it, it revealed a closet.

'Huh. Not what I was looking for but I suppose I could get dressed before I dip. After all, I don't need Marc and Steven seeing me naked.'

As you entered the closet, you couldn't help but be fascinated by the amount of clothes this person had.

At least this person had good fashion sense.

You were about to settle on a random set of clothing when you came across a familiar suit. You pulled it out momentarily and almost screamed.

It was your ceremonial suit that Khonshu provided.

You threw it against the wall and it landed with a soft thud onto the floor.

Just what was going on??

Panicking, you threw on a white tank top and white shorts before running stealthily into the bathroom. You turned on the faucet and splashed your face a bunch of times with cold water. As you grabbed a towel and dabbed your face dry, you looked up into the mirror to see your reflection.

You almost let out a scream.

Instead of a haphazardly dressed woman with bed hair and hickies all over her neck while the shower was behind her, you see a woman with lifeless eyes and an outfit that looked similar to Marc's. You then saw two bright red spots on the chest area of your outfit, alongside with a body of water surrounding you.

'No. NO. NO! I'm not dead! I shouldn't be! We were so close to taking down Harrow! Wait... did he shoot us?!'

You rubbed your eyes and counted to three before opening them. You saw the reflection that you expected to see, but you weren't alone.

Standing behind you was a tall man dressed in black sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His upper half was bare. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him so your back was touching his chest. His head was buried in the crook of your neck and you felt his plush lips kiss your neck softly. You froze when you felt the tip of his long tongue drag upwards before kissing behind your ear.

"Come back to bed, my love."

Hell no.

You shoved his arms away from you and you turned around so you could face him instead.

That was a mistake.

His face was the prettiest face you've ever seen on a man. Plush lips formed into a pout, a prominent pointed nose, brown eyes that looked warm and inviting, a long slender neck that was littered with a lot more hickies, a small waist, and long arms that fit his lean muscular body.

You didn't know if you were ensnared by his beauty or experiencing gender envy.

You were so distracted by him that you failed to notice the faint outline of a jackal's head surrounding him.

"Are you ok? Looks like last night took a toll on you. Maybe I'll be gentler next time."

"Last night?! I just got here! What are you talking about?"

"Huh. For someone who doesn't drink a lot, you sure don't remember a whole lot."

As he stepped closer to you, you backed up slowly and reached behind you to try and open the bathroom door. Of course it had to be jammed. As you wiggled the doorknob, you felt a hand caress your cheek lightly. Wearily, you looked up to see the handsome man tilt his head slightly out of curiosity.

"Do you remember my name? You were definitely screaming it a lot."

"The fuck? No I don't! And quite frankly, I don't want to remember it."

You didn't miss the way his eyes turned from playful to upset yet you chose to ignore it. You wiggled the doorknob again while he kept speaking. His voice was soft but instead of it being teasing, it was saddened.

"My name is Seonghwa."

"Yeah hi nice to meet you, Seonghwa. Listen. I need to go."

"Go where? Are you in a rush to go to work? I can drop you off."

Ha. If only it were that simple for you. You shook your head.

"Look. If I don't leave now, I might be too late. Thanks for letting me... sleep over... or whatever. Ok bye!"

You finally pried the bathroom door open and you sprinted to the final door. You were so anxious to leave that you didn't hear him yell cautiously.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!"

When you opened the door and stepped out, you froze.

Nothing but sand dunes and eerie winds were present. As you looked around, you noticed something different in the dimly lit sky. Huge balls of bright purple light shot down from the sky and landed in various parts of the sand dunes. Your eyes widened in realization.

Arthur was still alive and sending people down here using Ammit's power.

"No. NO! This isn't happening!"

You needed to get out of there. You need to be reunited with Marc and figure out how to escape this place. You were so caught up in your own head that you didn't notice the man, who claims to be Seonghwa, grabbed your arm and pull you back inside the room. He closed the door and locked it. You were about to protest when he held a finger up.

He was annoyed. But wasn't he holding you captive though?

"Had I moved a bit later, the sands would have eaten you alive, leaving you to be lost forever in the Duat."

The Duat?

Oh shit.

You really were dead then.

"The Duat is the Egyptian Underworld. But doesn't Osiris rule this place?"

A loud and bitter laugh escaped his pretty lips and you felt yourself blush out of embarrassment. Clearly, this wasn't Osiris's avatar. So who was he?

"Even the human I fell in love with only remembers that fool's name."

Wait a second...

The gears finally clicked in your head and you felt yourself kneel and your head bow in shame.

"I'm so sorry, Anubis! I forgot that you were the original personification of death. Please forgive me. Do not send me out into the sand dunes. Please!"

Seonghwa, or Anubis as you have stated, sighed quietly as he looked at your trembling form kneeling before him. While a part of him was happy that someone remembered his name and still trembled in fear right in front of his presence, he never wanted you to tremble in fear because of him. He swallowed his pride and knelt down to your level before grabbing your shoulders and making you rise to your feet. Your head was still bowed down in shame and his heart clenched painfully at the sight.

Clearly, you had no intention of forgetting who he was. You were so wrapped up in your fear and anxiety of this place that he couldn't help but hug you. Lifting your head up so you could see him, he brought you into a warm hug. His strong arms wrapped around your shaking body and he shushed you gently whenever he heard you mutter apologies.

"Oh, my love. It's ok. I'm just glad you remember my name. Don't cry."

He kissed the side of your head while you laid on his shoulder. He kept you in his embrace until you stopped shaking. He pulled away momentarily and wiped away the remaining tears that were on your face.

"Normally, I don't do this with most of the lost souls that end up in the Duat. However, you are someone special to me. I don't know if you recall, but this isn't the first time that we met."

"H-Huh?"

Seonghwa smiled sadly. He tenderly kissed your forehead before continuing to speak.

"Let me change into something a bit more appropriate before I explain."

He pulled away and walked into his closet to change quickly before coming back out in a different outfit.

He was now wearing a black tank top and blue jeans. They were adjusted so the waistband of his underwear was peeking out from the top. He raked his fingers through his messy black hair so it wouldn't look as bad as when he rolled out of bed and found you in the bathroom.

Even the waviness of his long black hair was pretty!

He pulled you once more into the bathroom and hoisted you up onto the counter before standing in between your legs and assessing any wounds you might have carried.

You were dead though so why would he...

"I'm aware that you're dead. However, I still pride myself in making sure that you look presentable even if you're dead."

His response was sassy and playful once more, yet it didn't stop you from feeling even more embarrassed. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and your ears perked up at the sound of his light and melodious laughter.

"It's ok. You probably didn't mean to say it out loud."

He bent down and brought out some gauze and a few medical supplies, along with some herbs and a mortar & pestle. The gauze made you skittish and Seonghwa noticed this.

"Come here, my love."

He brought you into a tender kiss, his lips molding with yours slowly and sensually. He set down the supplies and held your waist with a firm yet gentle grip. He snaked his arms around your waist and hummed in content as your shaky hands found his shoulders and settled on top of there. Just when he was about to shove his tongue down your throat, you pulled away. The both of you caught your breath and both of your lips were swollen.

Even though you enjoyed being in his arms, you were on a time crunch and you couldn't afford to waste it more. Seonghwa noticed this as well yet he couldn't help himself.

"Are you ok, my love?"

His voice was soft and caring as his eyes raked over your form. You stopped shaking but he had to make sure.

"Yeah. I'm ok. Thank you."

A pretty smile graced his face as he got to work in taking care of you. You watched as his hands raked over your body. It wasn't sexual but you definitely felt flustered under his touch. He took a wet rag and carefully dabbed it over the grip marks and bruises left on your thighs and hips. It felt warm to the touch and you watched in awe as the marks and bruises suddenly disappeared. Almost as if it was dirt smudged on your body!

He then moved on to the hickies on your neck. With each hicky being wiped away from your skin, he left a tender kiss in that same spot. Since he left a lot, the feeling of being flustered intensified since his soft lips raked over your skin. Again. It wasn't sexual but you highly doubted that he treated all lost souls like this when he tended to them after finding them drifting hopelessly in the Duat. Once he was done, he lifted his head and kissed both of your cheeks.

"How are you feeling, my love?"

"I'm great I mean I'm hot I mean I'm fine I mean uh..."

Seonghwa giggled at your rambling and kissed you quickly to shut you up.

"This last part... you might need to take off this tank top."

You knew what was coming. Rather than argue, you slowly lifted your tank top just enough for him to gasp quietly as his eyes fell on the two holes that were in your chest.

"Ammit's followers did this to you?"

You saw the angry look on his face as his eyes went from brown to a menacing black. The outline of the jackal's head shone brightly as a growl emitted from his throat and one of his hands gripped the countertop so hard that you were afraid of the godly strength he would use if he broke off a piece of it.

"Seonghwa, calm down. Please."

Your plea falls deaf on his ears and you panicked. Shoving your tank top down, you surged forward and grabbed his face before kissing him quickly. His body relaxed as you pulled away and connected your forehead with his. You saw a tear roll down his face and you quickly wiped it away.

"Technically, only one follower did. His name is Arthur Harrow. He used to be under Khonshu's grasp, but now he follows in Ammit's footsteps."

"That doesn't make it any better, Y/N."

"I know, but still. I'm here with you now."

"It's only temporary since you have to go back to the world of the living and stop this mad man."

"Whether it be temporary or permanent, I am here with you."

"You're right. If I had it my way, I would never let you go. I already did the first time."

"Speaking of which, when did we actually have our first encounter?"

As Seonghwa signaled for you to lift your tank top once more so he can take care of the bullet wounds in your chest, he spoke.

"It was when you and your brother died under Khonshu's statue after defeating those mercenaries."

A wince left your mouth and Seonghwa quickly apologized, thinking he hurt you. You shook your head.

"You didn't hurt me with the tweezers. You unintentionally brought up a painful memory."

"It was never my intention to bring you pain, my love."

"I know, but still. You were just recalling the first time we met."

"You were so young. I couldn't bring myself to drag you to the Duat at such a young age, knowing that there was more in store for you. Begrudgingly, I let Khonshu take a hold of you. I even forced him to promise to take care of you and your brother. Being a younger god, he obeyed me."

You wanted to make light of this situation so you decided to roast the moon god.

"Khonshu? Young? His godly form is withered and the bird skull is old."

Seonghwa's heart melted when you lightly giggled as you poked fun at the moon god. After removing the bullets, he placed some herbs in the mortar & pestle before pouring water in and grinding them up.

"Contrary to what you might think, he is actually younger than me. It's my human disguise throwing you off. My original god form is quite... something."

He stepped back momentarily to reveal his godly form for a brief moment before resorting back to his human disguise.

"Well then... that's definitely something. I think I like this better. Sorry."

You smiled sheepishly and Seonghwa waved it off, not offended at all.

"It's ok. A lot of people find it better if I approach them like this."

You felt a pang of jealousy course through your body as you thought about how many lost souls encountered him before moving onwards into the Field of Reeds. Seonghwa must have noticed and he smirked lightly before setting the mortar & pestle down and leaning in to leave light kisses on your jaw.

"Is my pretty baby jealous?"

His voice deepened and became more sensual as his lips roamed across your skin. You shook your head and Seonghwa chuckled smoothly before lifting his head to stare at you with sincerity and love in his eyes.

"Relax, my love. There is nothing to be jealous of. I only want you."

You felt at ease knowing that he had eyes for you only. Satisfied with your contentment, Seonghwa got back to work. The ground up herbs mixed with the water turned into an aromatic paste. He grabbed some with two fingers and applied it gently over the bullet wounds. You watched as he finished tending to your wounds and a grateful smile fell onto your face.

"The paste dries up quickly so you can put your tank top back on now."

You touched the spots that were covered in paste. True to his word, the paste did dry up quickly. As you put the tank top back on, you found him staring at you.

"So... what now?"

"Normally, I'd guide you into the Field of Reeds after tending to you. However, knowing that you need to get back out there and defeat this Harrow guy and Ammit, I will make sure you get back to the land of the living. By now, Osiris must've let Marc and Steven go and Taweret rescued them from the sand dunes. They should be here in a few minutes."

"I wish I could stay with you. You've been the kindest god I've ever come across. I'm sorry."

"It's ok, my love. I'm sorry I grabbed you out of selfish impulse."

You hugged him tightly and Seonghwa returned the hug gratefully. A knock sounded on the door and Seonghwa let you go before walking to the door and opening it. The hippo goddess looked back and forth between the two of you before speaking.

"Did you two..."

"No no. It was just an illusion to trick them. They looked past it."

"Ok good. Because if Marc was behind me, he'd probably would have tried to punch you."

"I'm fully aware of how protective he is."

"Well then... we've no time to lose. Come on, Y/N."

You looked at Seonghwa one last time before kissing his cheek and going with Taweret to board the boat that Marc and Steven were on. The boat soon took off and Seonghwa waved goodbye before closing the door behind him. He clutched his chest and a sob broke out of him.

"Until we meet again, my love..."

He waved his hand and the illusion of the nice bedroom was taken down, revealing the cobwebbed emptiness of the mummification room he forever resides in.

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

It had been some time since you and Marc were resurrected and took down Harrow before using him as a vessel to trap Ammit in. As promised, Khonshu let you go. You two were no longer bound to him so you got to live freely as regular human beings.

Which leads us to Marc arguing over the outfit you're wearing right now.

"Absolutely not! You're not going out like that!"

"Marc, come on! It's not that bad!"

"You're wearing a crop top. It's showing too much. Go change!"

Layla heard the commotion and giggled slightly at the Spector twins arguing.

"Marc, could you please tone it down a bit? It's a blind date! If it goes wrong, at least Y/N only wore this one time." Layla teasingly convinced Marc. Marc was about to protest when he felt Steven front.

"Layla's right, mate. I mean I don't like it either but if they like it, then I cannot argue." Steven's voice rang out. After Marc fronted again, the older twin sighed.

"Fine. But one time only!" He relented, feeling defeated. He smiled when he saw you squeal happily and felt his heart burst with adoration towards Layla smiling at you.

You saluted jokingly and hugged him before going with Layla so she could drop you off at the designated date spot.

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

DURING THE BATTLE BETWEEN THE MOON KNIGHTS AND AMMIT

"Are you sure, Anubis? Once you leave the Duat, your memories will be left behind here and you will become a new man in the land of the living."

Seonghwa sighed as he listened to Taweret.

"I'm fully aware. I'm ready though. I want to be with Y/N, even if it's not in my own body."

The hippo goddess sighed and brought the ancient god into a hug.

"Ok. If you say so. In the body of a different man, with a clear mind and an open clean heart, welcome to Earth."

Seonghwa smiled blissfully as he heard the last words of Taweret before stepping out into the light.

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

PRESENT TIME

"Hey. Sorry I'm late. Parking was horrible and traffic was twice as bad."

You looked up and saw the man you were supposed to meet. You almost folded.

He had long silver hair, bleached eyebrows, and glasses perched on the tip of his prominent nose. He had full lips, a nice jawline, and brown eyes that were warm, inviting, and a bit familiar.

He wore a suit that clung to his dorito like body well. It shaped his broad shoulders to look even broader. His waist was small and his hands were huge and adorned with many silver rings. As he sat down across from you, he spoke in that deep voice you loved already.

"I hope you didn't wait long."

You shook your head.

"You made it on time actually."

You stuck out your hand for a handshake.

"I'm Y/N Spector. Pleased to meet you."

The man smiled as he took your hand and shook it. His smile reached all the way to his eyes so they formed crescents.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Song Mingi."

#blossomnet #mirohsaurorasociety #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #moon knight

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diazsdimples · 5 months

Note

Why no I’m not here to encourage a ballet au… why do you ask???

Hippo you absolute menace, why do I put up with you?? Having said that...

When Buck walks into the rehearsal room for the New York City Ballet for the first time, he can’t quite believe he’s made it.

Here he is, standing among some of the best dancers North America has to offer, and they’re treating him like an equal, rather than the usual upturned noses or judgemental looks ballet dancers have often perfected. A group of women stand by the barre, doing some warm-up stretches before rehearsal starts, and at the other end of the mirror stands two of the most beautiful men Buck has ever seen.

They’re fairly evenly matched in height and size, both lean and strong, their muscles not huge like some of the bodybuilders Buck is used to seeing at the gym, but sculpted, with rippling muscles that convey a subtle power, used for performing complicated lifts but looking effortless and graceful as they do so.

The shorter of the two looks up as he enters the room, and Buck’s mouth goes dry as a pair of warm, brown eyes, like two pools of molten chocolate, meet his. This man is gorgeous. His hair is silky and brown, with a few strands that flop carelessly into his face, and he’s got a light shadow of stubble over his jaw. He’s wearing a tight, black tank top that clings to his body like a second skin and shows every ounce of muscle in his arms. There’s a small, circular tattoo, with what looks like some loopy writing on his forearm, almost mirroring the delicate lines on Buck’s own.

Buck is still drinking in the first man when he leans forward and whispers something in the second man’s ear, and he turns around too.

Holy fuck. Does the New York City Ballet hire on looks first and dancing skills second?

This man is taller, probably by a good few inches, and while the first man is soft and gentle looking, this man is sharper, more defined, and radiating raw power in the way his muscles flex beneath his white tank. He’s a little curlier than the other man, with icy blue eyes that pierce into Buck’s own. He smiles at Buck, his nose crinkling in a way that’s nothing short of adorable, and beckons Buck over.

Buck allows his legs to carry himself towards the two men, his brain not coming online enough to even rehearse his opening line, before he’s standing in front of them.

“Uh, hi,” he says eloquently, his mouth feeling drier than the Sahara. “I’m Evan Buckley, new principal. But – uh – everyone calls me Buck,”

“Hey Evan,” Blue Eyes says at the same time Brown Eyes says “Nice to meet you, Buck.”

“I’m Eddie Diaz,” Brown Eyes says, holding his hand out for Buck to shake. “Playing the Nutcracker.”

Buck tries not to make it super obvious how star-struck he is right now. “H-hey Eddie, nice to meet you,” he replies, taking the man’s hand. It’s warm and Eddie squeezes Buck’s hand lightly as he shakes it, his long fingers pressing against Buck’s knuckles.

“Tommy Kinard,” says Blue Eyes, extending his own hand when Eddie releases his. “Rat King.”

Buck can’t entirely believe that here he is, on his first day as a Principal Dancer for the New York City Ballet, and he’s meeting the two male leads. He might need to pinch himself, if it weren’t for the fact that Tommy’s squeezing his hand a little harder than necessary, the slight pain enough to convince Buck that yes, this is really happening.

“You’re new here, aren’t you? Which part have you got?” Eddie asks kindly, leaning against the barre. His arm crosses over with Tommy’s making it look like their arms are almost linked. The way they’re standing, and the familiarity Buck could see in their expressions earlier, he can’t help but wonder if they’re in a relationship. Or good friends, at the very least.

He licks his lips before talking and wills himself not to sound like a total dork.

“I’m playing Cavalier,” he said threading his fingers together as he stands in a bastardisation of 4th position that his old tutor always used to yell at him for. “First time as a lead.”

Tommy smiles softly, his eyes raking over Buck’s body as though sizing him up.

“It’s not so scary once you get to know everyone,” he reassures Buck, placing a hand just above Buck’s elbow.

“Yeah,” Eddie adds, flashing a dazzling grin in Buck’s direction that have his joints turning a little gelatinous. “We’ll show you the ropes.”

Now sit there and think about what you've done

(Gonna cheekily tag a few friends to alert them that I've been bullied into starting a new wip) @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @bidisasterevankinard @steadfastsaturnsrings @spotsandsocks

#james answers things #hippo tag #she twisted my arm your honour!!#ballet au #I guess???#idk man until 2 minutes ago I didn't think I'd ever do a ballet au #serves me right for sending hippo texts I guess

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lizzie-is-here · 1 year

Text

lonely is a man without love

part vi- fault

“someday someone will bring the moon down for you in the shape of their love” - dikshasuman

summary: you, marc, and steven need to get their scales balanced. but marc’s hiding something.

wordcount: 2.6k

warnings: language, violence, past child abuse, wendy being a horrible mother, episode five in general, me projecting my adoption trauma on the reader character

a/n: this one took me a while mainly bc of how personal it gets. i felt like i could use my personal experience to help understand marc’s feelings a bit more, so i hope y’all enjoy! love you all so much 🫶🫶

taglist: @thefictionalgemini @ravenz-hope @undiscl0sed-d3sir3s @iateall-your-cookies @disregardedplant @sunflowers-4 @yellowumbrelllaaaa @bagsy-not-it @local-mr-frog @thescarletredwitch @jupitersmoon167 @creamecafe @stevenknightmarc @theluciansystem @kingtwhiddleston @spider-biter @mxltifxnd0m @sgt-morgan @no-dont-be-suspicious @onzayhe @namorslit @i-cant-write-for-shit @vainillasmil157 @doublevirgogirl @boofy1998 @seninjakitey @khaleesihavilliard

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Marc’s memories are definitely downers.

That’s not to say that yours are much better, between forced hysterectomies and brutal training sequences, but at least you had a few good ones.

Like late-night errand runs with Nat and ‘Lena, or cooking with Wanda. Even the chaotic braiding trains with Thor and Bucky are better than this.

You weave around the dead bodies as you watch past-Marc drag himself to a temple. Inside, he lies on the steps, pressing a gun under his chin.

Before he pulls the trigger, a familiar voice rings out.

“What a waste.”

Past-Marc freezes, calling out in the dark.

“I feel the pain inside of you.” Khonshu makes a few sounds of consideration, clearly theatrical.

The injured man whimpers. “What the hell are you?”

“I am the god Khonshu, in search of a warrior.”

“A warrior,” he chuckles. “Well, good luck with that.” More blood pools from his countless wounds.

The god never falters. “To be my hands, my eyes, my vengeance. To be my final word against the evildoers. To bind your very being to me and eradicate only the worst. Those who deserve it. Do you want death, or do you want life?”

The broken man on the steps sobs.

“I don’t know.”

Your breath stops, and you glance at Marc from the corner of your eye. He’s staring down at his past self, reliving the lowest moment of his life.

“Your mind, I feel it. Fractured. Broken. Most fascinating.”

At Khonshu’s words, you feel something shift. He talks like Dreykov did.

Insulting a person to better control them. Destroy their character. Make them unsure of themself so they lean toward the person who seems to know everything.

Then they would offer a hand.

“You are a worthy candidate to serve me during this time.”

There it is.

“In exchange for your life, do you swear to protect the travelers of the night and bring my vengeance to those who would do them harm?”

On your other side, Steven comes to the same realization that you did.

“That sneaky old vulture,” he mumbles. “He was manipulating you from the start.” You nod.

Marc scoffs. “Yeah, well, he kept us alive.”

“Marc,” you say, gesturing to the scene before you as the god repeats his question. “He was taking advantage of you.”

“Or it was just a way for me to keep being what I’ve always been. A killer.”

The Scales are slowly shifting, barely off-balance. He’s hiding something else.

Past-Marc roses to his knees, Khonshu beside him as the familiar suit wraps his body.

“Are those-“ The sounds of animals reach your ears, and the three of you bolt out the doors and back onto the ship.

“Taweret, what’s going on?” Steven asks.

“Fear is spreading in the upper world,” she says. Comets of light fall from the clouds. “Unbalanced souls are being judged or condemned to the sands before their time. Oh, this is bad. This is evil.”

“Harrow,” Marc gasps as Steven pleads with the goddess.

“You see why we have to go back?” he says.

The hippo frowns. “Even if I could send you back up there, you’d just be returning to a body with a bullet in it. You wouldn’t be able to heal.”

“But how do we free Khonshu if-“

You cut Steven off. “I have an idea. But we need to balance your Scales first.”

All three of them turn to you in confusion.

“What’s your idea?” Taweret asks. You shake your head.

“I’ll need your help. Give us a little more time!”

You sprint inside with the boys on your trail, racing through the hallways.

“Back in the house there was that bedroom that you didn’t want me to go into,” Steven chides Marc. “That’s it. That’s where we’ll go.”

“Just a second,” the other man says. “Just wait a second, just give me a second here, okay? Um, look, we don’t have to go back through it all again. We can just talk. Let’s just talk. Right here, right now. I’ll tell you everything, okay?”

Your chest aches as he grows more desperate.

“I’m just begging you, don’t make us go back there again,” Marc finishes. “It’s not worth it.”

Steven furrows his brows. “Not worth it? Marc, you’re about to lose everything. Do you understand? If we don’t get back, and Harrow succeeds, and all those people die… that’s on your head. It’ll be all your fault.”

You gently hold a hand up as Marc grows more panicked, silencing Steven. The latter casts you an apologetic glance, and you return a small smile. He was doing his best, but you know how to talk a person down.

“Marc, listen. I know whatever is back there is bad. Believe me, I don’t have to see it to know.” You hold up your hands where he can see them before gently resting them on his shoulders. “But we have to go. The other option isn’t any prettier.”

“I can’t do it, I won’t do it,” he whispers.

Breath shaking, you bite back the urge to tug him along. “Please? It’ll be okay. We’ll be right there with you.”

You blink and you’re there.

Marc still hasn’t stopped shaking, and everything about his body language is screaming that he wants to run. To bolt out the door and hide from whatever’s next.

So you take his hand, gently squeezing it as a younger version of him scrambles through the door.

The boy knocks figurines off the desk before throwing himself into the corner, breaths coming rapidly.

Behind Marc, Steven peers out.

“I don’t… this is my room,” he says. “I remember some things, but I don’t remember this.”

You flinch with Marc when hurried knocking comes from the door.

The boy in the corner whimpers.

“It’s not Mom. It’s not my mom,” he repeats to himself. You swallow down the lump in your throat.

“Marc, open this door,” the woman orders. A series of loud, frantic slams follow. “Open this door right now!”

“It’s not my mom.”

The boy's eyes roll back in his head, and you wince at what comes next.

In a British accent, he begins talking about how messy the room is, how he should clean it up. He doesn’t seem to notice the pounding sound of Wendy at the door.

“Better sort it out before Mum sees it,” Steven and his younger self say together.

The older man reads a poster in the corner of the room.

“When danger is near, Steven Grant has no fear.” The pain in his eyes is apparent when he turns to Marc. “You made me up.”

You’d thought the name sounded familiar. Turns out there had been an Indiana Jones-style series about Steve. Steven Grant Rogers. The name had rung a bell because the team had watched it on his birthday as a joke.

The door flies open. The clearly drunk woman grabs a belt from a hook, and your stomach drops.

“You’re gonna learn to listen,” she spits. You don’t have it in you to keep watching when she starts the assault.

“Why do you have to make me do this? You disgusting creature.”

You and Marc guide Steven out of the room as he tries to fully understand what happened.

“I wanna see what she did,” he grunts, fighting Marc’s grip.

The latter sighs. “You do not need to see that. You’re not meant to see that, that’s the whole point of you.”

The punch that Steven throws hurts Marc more mentally than physically.

“The point of me?” he asks. “What? To be your stress ball? All this time, I thought I was the original. But I’m just something that you made up.”

“You’ve got to live a happy, simple, normal life. You understand?” You stand to the side as they argue, hoping that this evens the Scales.

“But it was all a lie, wasn’t it?”

“So what? What does it matter? What, you wanna remember the truth? That you had a mother that beats you? That hated you? That made your life a living hell?”

“You’re lying, you’re just trying to upset me.”

“You’ve gotten to live thinking that she loved you. That she was kind. That she’s still alive!”

You know whatever is said next won’t do you any good, so you reach for the nearest handle and slip inside.

Thankfully, the memory isn’t yours. But it seems to be exactly what Marc was talking about.

He’s standing outside of his old apartment building, wearing a yarmulke and holding a flask.

You watch as he mutters to himself, pacing and absentmindedly taking swigs of what you can now smell to be whisky.

“God, why am I even here?” he whispers. “I don’t owe her this. I don’t owe her shit.” The immediate regret on his face tells you more. “But she’s my mom,” he says, softer, sadder.

Marc treads this line for a while, rapidly oscillating between loathing the monster of a woman whose shiva is right inside and missing the mother he had before his brother’s accident. He’s like a metronome, ticking so fast you’re afraid he’ll break.

In the window, his father beckons him in. All he can manage is a solemn shake of the head.

Slowly walking away, you follow behind him. You’re not surprised when you see present Marc and Steven waiting further down the road.

Past-Marc continues to mumble to himself until he breaks down crying, falling to his knees and yanking the yarmulke off his head. He hits it to the ground a few times before the same regret from before returns. He cradles it, apologizing until all of the pain becomes too much to bear.

His eyes roll back, almost painfully so, and when he refocuses, Steven is in his place.

“What?” he yelps loudly. “Where am I?”

Your heart shatters as you watch him “call” his mother, and speak to her as he stumbles down the street, not knowing he’s walking away from her very shiva.

Finally, Marc speaks.

“This is it. Mom’s death and shiva two months ago. This is when our lives started bleeding into each other.”

He takes a deep breath.

“I just couldn’t… I couldn’t face that again. All the things I’d done…”

Steven, more determined than ever, turns to Marc.

“Marc, all those horrible things that she said to you, she was wrong. It wasn’t your fault.” The conviction in his tone makes pride well in your chest. He’s sure, without a hint of doubt.

Marc huffs. “I shouldn’t have brought him in that cave, I shouldn’t have brought him in the cave.”

“Hey. You were just a child. It wasn’t your fault,” Steven says. The softness of his words draws you in.

Marc finally nods, hugging him. But you can tell he still has lingering doubts.

“Marc, she was wrong,” you begin. “I understand how you feel, but nothing she said was true.”

Through the sea of emotions, Marc furrows his brows.

“What do you mean, ‘you understand’?” he asks. “I… I thought you didn’t know your mom.”

The words hold the tiniest bit of bitterness and doubt, but you ignore it, searching for the right thing to say without exposing your innermost hurt.

When you can’t find anything, you resolve to being completely honest. No better time to get a weight off your chest than when the fate of the world is at hand, right?

“… I don’t know her. But that’s what I mean,” you begin. “Some girls in the Red Room are stolen from their families, but so many more are abandoned. That was me.”

“You hear these stories all the time about mothers doing incredible feats for their children. Lifting cars off them, crossing war zones, hell, killing for them. And… I wasn’t even worth keeping around.”

Marc and Steven watch the way your lip trembles, how your eyes grow glassy.

“It fucks with your head. It makes you feel like something is innately wrong with you. That it’s your fault that you never received the love you want.”

You turn to both of them.

“But it’s not. It’s not your fault and it’s not mine.”

In an instant, Marc falls into your arms and holds you tight, so close, you think you feel your back pop. Steven joins in, resting his head on Marc’s shoulder.

“Сейчас все в порядке [Everything’s okay now],” you whisper. “Все в порядке, и я люблю вас обоих очень, очень сильно [It’s okay, and I love you both so, so much].”

Steven quirks an eyebrow. “What was that?”

You gesture down the street like you hadn’t just confessed. “We need to get moving. We don’t have much time left.”

All three of you run down the street, the boat reappearing in your vision.

“Taweret, what’s happening?” Steven asks.

“I’ve never seen the gates to the world above so close,” she huffs.

Marc stands next to you. “How do we open them?”

You freeze at the sad look in her eye. “I’m so sorry. Your Scales never balanced.” She turns to the three of you. “Our journey’s come to an end. I cannot stop the inevitable.”

“I was really rooting for you guys, but the unbalanced souls of the Duat must now claim yours.”

A surge of energy rushes through you. Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s knowing that Wanda will kick your ass if you stay dead, but you spring into action.

“Thanos said he was inevitable too, and look where it got him,” you joke. “Listen. Taweret, if you let me temporarily become your avatar, and I return to the living world, you could heal me, correct?”

She nods. “…Yes, I’d be bending the rules a bit far from childbirth, but I could.”

“Send me back,” you plead. Turning to the boys, you glance to the sands. “Hold the souls back, and I’ll get Khonshu freed.”

Steven steps close first, looking like he has something to say but not really sure how to go about it. You know what he’s doing before he even starts talking. What you’ve been waiting for.

“Uhm, before you go, I- Well, we, kind of want to…” He blushes, stammering. With a smile, you gently pull him in.

His lips are unfairly soft. That’s the first thing you notice. He’s unsure and warm and holds you gently. Not like you’ll break, but like you’re more valuable than anything in that tomb.

“Yeah, that,” he says when you part.

Your grin makes his stomach flip, and you shoot a sidelong glance to Marc.

“Well? Gonna give me a kiss for good luck?”

This time, it’s him that tugs you in, and the difference couldn’t be more clear. The kiss is almost desperate; you can feel how long he’s been waiting in the way he pulls you ever closer with a hand on the back of your head.

The one thing both of them have in common is that they both leave you dizzy and wanting more, but there’s no time for that.

“Go,” Taweret urges. “I’ll heal you when you wake up.”

Steven brushes off the fluttery feeling and nods. “Free Khonshu-“

“-Then we’ll kick Harrow’s ass,” Marc finishes.

You smirk, face still flushed, and salute the boys.

“Copy that. Good luck.”

The souls of the dead start climbing onto the boat as you shoot your grappling hook onto the mast of the ship, taking a running start as you swing from the deck.

You circle around once before releasing the hook, hitting the sand and rolling into a crouch. Brushing off the grains, you walk towards the glowing gate.

The massive doors open as you approach, spilling golden light. You disappear in the haze.

And you don’t look in time to see Steven fall from the boat.

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers #moon knight x fem!reader #moon knight system #moon knight x reader #marc spector moon knight #steven grant moon knight #moon knight tv #moon knight #moon boys #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x fem!reader #steven grant #steven grant x you #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x reader

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kevinsdsy · 2 months

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hiiiii! boys for the WIP game (i'm guessing the title is hippo campus? excellent choice u have gotten me to love that song fr)

[ WIP GAME ]

HII!! yes omg it is hehe IM SO HAPPY U NOTICED 🙂‍↕️

so since i've only recently gotten back into writing, everything is still in the early stages— but boys is supposed to be split in three acts (idk what to call it tbh so lets stick w that) i'm still working on the first act which is when both kevin and jean are ravens. after a final game against the trojans, jean manages to encounter jeremy alone (nothing major happens, they just talk, but idk i think it's fun to have a moment between jerejean before jean joins the trojans line-up).

i still have to figure out how much of raven!jean i want to include in this fic and if jerejean manages to encounter each other again (although i'm leaning into no, so they only have that one (1) real encounter of each other before jean joins the trojans, but like i said i'm still figuring it out) so yeahhh that's me ranting a bit about the fic the line

'hair in the wind. you'll blow right by me.' is what inspired me to add this first encounter to the fic:

He was about to turn around when he heard footsteps approaching. It was too late. He had been caught already, and he hadn’t even gotten the chance to walk around. He looked up and was surprised to see Jeremy Knox walking down the hallway instead of Kevin and Riko.

Jeremy seemed lost in thought. Jean could turn around, pretend he hadn’t noticed the way Jeremy’s sweaty hair stuck to his head, and hide away in the changing room until everyone was ready. Before Jean had the chance to act on his thoughts, though, Jeremy stopped walking, noticing Jean staring at him.

“Moreau,” Jeremy said, acknowledging him with a nod. Kevin and Jean had talked about Jeremy Knox on numerous occasions—Kevin had always liked how happy and nice Jeremy always was. However, it was noticeable that the loss of this game had affected Jeremy's mood somewhat.

Jean realized that he preferred this look on Jeremy rather than the extroverted person he had noticed a few months ago during the banquet. The absence of Jeremy’s big smile and cheerfulness made it easier for Jean to be alone with him right now, although Jean couldn’t help but notice Jeremy was still trying his best to appear as content and polite as he could.

Jean suddenly understood what Kevin had meant when he had whispered about the way the USC Trojans played Exy. How different it was from the way the Ravens played, but how it could be just as effective with a few adjustments made to their schedules. Jeremy was more than delighted to indulge in all Kevin's questions and comments at the time.

Jean had been annoyed about the fact Kevin couldn’t stop talking about his conversation with Jeremy and how glad he was to realize Jeremy was just as passionate about winning as Kevin himself was. Jean also remembered Kevin’s uncharacteristic guilt when he mentioned it was a shame to take another victory from Jeremy. He wondered if Kevin still remembered that conversations, now that he had seized yet another win from Jeremy.

“Knox,” Jean replied maintaining his composure. He noticed Jeremy twitch at the mention of his name, but neither of the guys commented on it. Jean was too focused on processing the situation to take a jab at Jeremy anyway.

Jeremy leaned against the wall, observing Jean’s panicked look, which Jeremy thought was interesting, given that Jean had just won the championship with the Ravens— a team not known for their politeness.

“You alright?” Jeremy asked.

“Fine,” Jean answered. He didn’t apologize for the Trojans’ loss, nor did he ask how Jeremy was doing in return. Silence stretched between them, but Jean didn’t mind much; he was used to keeping to himself whenever possible. Jeremy, on the other hand, couldn't help feeling uncomfortable as the silence between them stretched.

After a moment of hesitation, Jeremy nodded, unsure of what else to say, and then said: “Congratulations on the win. You guys played a good game.” His voice was steady—genuine, even. Jean desperately tried to find something in his words other than the politeness Jeremy had shown him on the court too. It struck Jean as unusual that he hadn’t been able to get under Jeremy’s skin.

“Thanks,” Jean said, aware it was the right thing to say. He almost wanted to point out it was obvious they’d win before they had even played, but instead he opted for a touch of kindness instead. After all, he enjoyed getting under their skin on the court, but there was no use for it off the court too. “You put up a good fight.”

Jeremy smiled faintly. “We try. Maybe next time we’ll give you a run for your money.” Jean couldn’t help himself—he didn’t have much practice at being kind or polite, and in return answered Jeremy with a huff. They stood in silence for a moment. Jean didn’t know what he was supposed to say anyways, and suddenly he remembered he shouldn’t have left the changing room in the first place.

“I should get back,” Jean said, his voice wavering slightly. He had the uncomfortable realization that he’d much rather let the minutes between them stretch in this hallway, but he couldn’t risk still standing here when Riko returned. Jeremy responded with a nod.

Jean was sure Jeremy was going to say something else, but before he had the chance, Jean slipped back inside the changing room. As he closed the door behind him, he felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Jean knew he couldn’t risk being seen outside the changing room by Riko, but he couldn’t help wishing he had gotten more time alone with Jeremy. There was something intriguing about seeing Jeremy’s deflated mood when Jean normally recognized him by his cheerful look.

#WIP game #if it looks a bit familiar to anyone i posted another version on ao3 #but i ended up hating it so much i deleted it LMAO #jas writes #this is a rewritten version i guess #jas writes: boys #aftg fic #all for the game #the sunshine court #jerejean #jeremy knox #jean moreau

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scarletttries · 2 years

Text

Night at the Museum (Steven Grant One Shot)

Pairing: Steven Grant x GN!Reader

Rating: Pure fluff, gender neutral pronouns throughout :)

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: My Christmas gift to all the Steven Grant lovers, I feel like I've been writing a fair amount Steven smut lately so here a sweet sugarplum fluff for him :) Enjoy, and my requests are always open for sweetie Steven 💕

Night at the Museum (part of my Christmas list)

Glittering decorations, festive cocktails, a beautiful string quartet. Even though you'd insisted that this did not fall under you job description when Donna practically forced you to plan the staff Christmas party this year, you couldn't help but feel a little proud of how well you had pulled the little soirée together. Now there was just one final step to your plan, the reason you had accepted the task in the first place - talk to Steven.

The gift shop employee had caught your eye from the first conversation; his bright passion, his brilliant mind, his obvious sweetness inside and out. After a couple of months curating a new exhibit for the museum, you had come to the conclusion that as beautiful and kind as the man was, he was clueless when it came to picking up the signals you were clearly sending out, and if you wanted to be more than a colleague, and then more than a friend, you were going to have to take matters into your own hands.

---

"I know I usually hate Christmas but I can't miss the party!" Steven muttered under his breath, trying not to think too much about the fact that he was confiding in a stuffed hippo from his little counter, because he couldn't talk to his goldfish until he got home. "You know exactly why I want to go - for (Y/n)." He sighed, resting his head on his hand and his elbow against the counter with a smile as he watched you walk through the grand foyer, seemingly unaware of his longing stare as he racked his brain for any excuse to go talk to you. As if you felt his eyes on you as you moved, you glanced over to him, giving him a smile and wave as you continued your march to Donna's office, needing her sign off on yet another tedious matter for the party. As he tried to return your wave he forgot he was using his arm for support, lifting it to wave and letting his face fall right onto the counter with a thud. Steven almost didn't want to raise it again in his embarrassment, sure you must think he was an absolute idiot for the way he always managed to make a fool of himself around you, but as he glanced up he was glad he did, the blushing giggle he could see on your cheeks worth the slight knock to his. As soon as you disappeared around a corner, he went back to his goddess-themed plush toy and their conversation, "So now you see why I've got to go to this party! But I keep looking like a numpty every time they come near me, so I've got to make a plan. What do you think I should say?" He paused as if the toy was going to give him an answer, disappointed when his thoughts were the only thing he heard,

"Well I can't just say I love you to a colleague I've never even asked on a date! I'll look insane! No, I need to play it cool."

---

Steven felt decidedly less than cool as he walked into the almost empty museum that night, closed to the public for the staff party, giving him less people than usual to hide behind when it came to the sea of judgemental eyes. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, tugging on his slightly ill-fitting suit and focusing instead on his objective for the evening - talk to you.

You could feel your heart jump a little bit as you heard your name called out over the festive melody filling the air. Steven always said your name like it was filled with excitement and wonder, not like someone he went to work with day after day.

"The museum looks amazing tonight, you did a great job party planning!" He said happily, leaning forward as if he was going to greet you with a hug before doubting himself and settling for a small wave instead.

"Thanks Steven, I'm really glad you came." You replied sincerely, relief that he had actually come tonight boosting your confidence more than a little.

"I never miss a party, me." He lied, frowning as the words came out of his mouth, searching for a new topic before you could follow up on his fib, "I heard your exhibit getting expanded, congratulations! Ancient gemstones right?" he questioned, ignoring the voice in his head suggesting he offer you a diamond then and there.

"Thanks, I can't wait for the new artifacts to arrive, there's jewellery in there dating back to some of the first human civilians." He nodded happily along as you described your plans for the exhibition, thrilled to see you speak with such devotion, proud just to know someone like you, "I always think there's something beautiful about the fact that as long as humans have existed, they've wanted to sparkle." Steven grinned the sentiment, almost captivated by the joy with you approached your work and your life, the happiness that seemed to fill him whenever he got to spend time in your presence.

"Well you certainly do." He offered sweetly, eyes widening in panic as if he hadn't quite realised a compliment was leaving his lips before it was too late. Not wanting to risk sticking around to watch you shoot him down he quickly excused himself, desperately hurrying to a quiet corner to pull himself together. You watched in confusion as he stepped out for some air, mumbling to himself and wringing his hands together as he went, his chest rising and falling intensely as he brought his heart rate back to a safe level, unsure whether to be proud of himself for finally (almost) flirting with you, or kick himself for running away before he could see the fall-out.

You let the party continue to pass, keeping an eye on Steven as he finally plodded back in, reluctantly listening to a rant from Donna and correcting a few people on his name, looking a little bit downtrodden by the end of it,

"Steven. Pst." You beckoned from behind him, leaning against the corner of a long stretch of corridor undisturbed by party goers. He pointed up at himself as if there was anyone else you could be talking to, only taking a few uncertain steps forward when you nodded and used one finger to gesture him towards you. "I wanted to show another Christmas decoration I put up for the party." You explained, the curve of your smile making Steven's heart beat harder against his ribs, grateful and terrified to actually have a moment alone with you. You took a few slow steps backwards as you beckoned Steven towards you, finally coming to a stop and pointing up at the ceiling, hand struggling to hold still with the anticipation.

"Oh." Was all Steven could breath out as he saw the little green branch with its white berries hanging over him - Mistletoe. The first thing you'd dug out when you agreed to plan the party, hiding it far away enough from the foyer that you wouldn't be disturbed. Steven didn't dare move a muscle as you stood toe-to-toe, sure he must have misunderstood, certain you couldn't be thinking what he was thinking.

"You know the tradition for the two people under mistletoe right?" You prompted, the crimson colour spreading across his cheeks as he began to lift his trembling hands enough to make you sure this was something you both wanted.

"To - to kiss." Steven stuttered out, short of breath as you nodded, leaning slightly forward until the tip of your nose brushed softly over his as you did.

"Do you want to kiss me Steven?" You almost whispered, faces barely an inch apart, feeling the heat radiating from him as he nodded, bringing his twitching hands to cup your cheeks as his lips finally closed in on yours. It was soft. Tentative. Like part of Steven still didn't think this could be what you wanted. You brought your hands to his waist, slowly snaking around to pull him closer, encouraging him to apply a little more pressure the kiss. You leant into it, opening your mouth slightly and tilting your head to feel more of his soft, plump lips, slightly wet as his tongue seemed to hover just shy of yours. He let one hand brush over your cheek and fall to your neck, holding the nape of it as if terrified you might disappear if he couldn't feel you, and taste you anymore. You let your tongue lightly brush his, feeling him eagerly respond to your movements by deepening the kiss again, lips moving against yours like he'd never need to take a breath again, surviving solely on the feel of your mouth against his, the perfect fluttering building in his chest.

Finally you pulled away, leaning back just far enough to notice Steven's frantic breathing, the awestruck look in his eye as his gaze danced around your face looking for any sign of rejection before staring back at your lips, the only thing he could picture himself thinking about for a very long time. And then you smiled, and he was sure his heart was going to explode then and there, the affection as you rubbed his lower back and held him close the sweetest thing Steven could ever remember feeling.

"Happy Holidays Steven." Otherwise at a loss for words at what to say to this man looking at you like maybe there should be a museum dedicated to you alone, like you had single handedly hung every star in the sky along with the festive decoration above you.

"You wouldn't be free on New Year's Eve would you?" He asked, attempt at joking betrayed by his utterly pleading tone and the pure elation in his eyes when you nodded. Maybe Steven didn't hate Christmas anymore.

#writing #fanfiction #one shot #requests #steven grant imagine #steven grant x reader #steven grant imagines #steven grant headcanons #steven grant #steven grant fluff #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagines #moon knight imagine #moon knight headcanon #moon knight #scarlettschristmaslist

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leanhippo12 · 1 year

Text

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smileyerim · 2 years

Text

where we end is somewhere far, something hard to understand

part 1: i don't care what we are it just has to work

You’re his. All encompassingly his. Even if he doesn’t know it, or worse, doesn’t want it, you’re his. All you can do is just hope he’s yours too.

title: Understand by Hippo Campus

pairing: idol!chan x hannah’s roommate!reader

genre: smut MDNI, angst, fluff (in that order)

length: 6k

warnings: sex between adults, oc has low self esteem, unresolved ending

net tags: @kflixnet @straykidsland

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The exciting nerves are bubbling in your belly as you stare at the empty duffel bag lying limp on your bed.

Tonight is the night you’re going to see Chris again. He and the rest of his team arrived last night and although it’s silly, it feels as if you could sense his presence from the moment his plane touched down in LAX. He’s been texting you between schedules about how excited he is to see you and how embarrassed he is going to be when you see the crop tops he’s been given to wear on stage.

Plopping down on your bed, Hannah stares at the duffel bag.

“What’s that for?” You blush in response, head hanging low as you roll a pair of gray sweatshorts.

“I’m spending the night with Chris.” You say and Hannah bellows out a loud disgusted noise and you roll your eyes.

“It’s not like that.” She rolls her eyes at you this time.

“Of course it’s like that.” She says, giving you a look of disbelief.

“No, we’re just friends! He got 2 beds!”

She hums and gives you a knowing side eye, “That means nothing if you don’t use them.”

You squeal and move to push her off your bed and out of your room, the blush taking over your cheeks getting to be too much for your liking.

“Okay, okay!” She exclaims as she stands, hands up in defense.

“Fine I won’t tease you over the fact that you’re,” she pauses to give you a fake gag, “sleeping with my,” another fake gag, “brother-”

You cut her off with a yell of her name and she bursts out in laughter “stop it, seriously.” You whine and she lets up, her arms coming around your shoulders to hold you in an unexpected hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She sways you side to side as you exhale your anger and let your arms around her waist to hug her back.

“I just,” she says into your hair and your heartbeat quickens.

“I love you both. A lot. So please be careful.” You lean back and laugh before attempting to shut her down again.

“Hannah, it’s not-” she cuts you off.

“No, Y/N, seriously listen to me.” Her arms tighten around your neck as she intertwines her fingers together. “He’s my big brother and I know him better than anyone. He likes you, he likes you a lot.”

You blush at that, staring down at the toes of your shoes touching and she continues.

“I don’t want to see either of you getting your hearts broken so, please, for me, just be careful.”

You nod, the blush on your face still just as hot as before as you look up and meet her eyes again.

There’s a lot that you were hoping you’d never know, and Chris’ feelings for you was one of them. Your ignorance can’t keep you hiding forever behind your insecurity. You need to learn to accept that maybe, just maybe, Hannah’s right.

“We’ll be careful.” You whisper while holding eye contact with her. The corners of her eyes turn up as she smiles and pulls you into another squeeze and you laugh the tears that threaten to fall away.

After a beat of laughing and holding each other, Hannah can’t help herself but to quip, “use a condom, don’t get pregnant.”

“Hey!”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You’re standing in front of the mirror with sweaty palms observing your final outfit when Hannah calls you from the hallway to inform you that the Uber is here.

One shaky sigh and a final once over of your outfit consisting of simple green cargo pants and a black bra top with chunky silver chains around your neck. It’s a bold outfit, not something you usually find yourself donning but today is a special occasion and you want to impress.

A blush trails up your neck and settles on your cheek at the idea of seeing Chris later after the show and watching his reaction to you. If he thinks you’re beautiful in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, he’s definitely going to find you stunning now.

“Y/N! Come on!” You let out a sigh and one more once over before you grab your purse and walk out the door.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The venue is packed out wall to wall with fans from your perspective from the second floor VIP box Chris set up for this show. There’s a faint scent of stale fog machine in the air and as each moment draws by you feel the urge get stronger and stronger to drink.

So you do, and are about to down your third free shot from the all inclusive bar before another one of your roommates comes up to interrupt you.

“Easy tiger, what’s got you so worked up?” She says, gently prying the plastic shot cup out from between your pinched fingers.

The truth is you don’t know exactly why you’ve grown a sudden affinity for alcohol. You would be lying to yourself if you tried to claim it had nothing to do with Chris, but you can’t quite pin what is making you so nervous.

You shrug at her, avoiding her eyes as you take a smug sip out of the beer bottle you were hiding behind your arm from her.

“Look, don’t be nervous tonight. Just try and have fun!” She says, placing a cautious hand on your shoulder. You don’t remember ever telling this roommate about your situation with Chris, so you aren’t sure how she knows about your need for nerves. Out of the 4 girls total in your apartment, you only really had bonded with Hannah.

“Can’t you see? I’m drinking to not be nervous and to have fun.” You quip and she rolls her eyes at you.

“At least let me catch up.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Your heart drops the moment he steps onto the stage, the roaring screams of the crowd plugging your ears at the same time that all of the breath is stolen from your lungs. Your vision zeroes in on him and a rush of adrenaline flows through your veins.

“Woah, he’s hot” one of your roommates from beside you giggles and you can’t help but agree.

“That’s my brother! Shut the fuck up.” Hannah exclaims from the other side of you and you laugh at the exchange.

“She’s right.” You tease, knocking shoulders with Hannah when she makes a shocked face in response.

You try your best to keep distracted through the show, drinking beer after beer until your limbs feel a little floaty and the smile on your lips is permanent. Chris is putting on an amazing performance, his natural and trained talent shining through with every song that goes by. You can’t help but move along to the deep bass in the dance songs and sway with the rhythm to the slower ones.

Once the show is over, your heart drops at the prospect of leaving the comfort of your viewing box and venturing out and meeting him. Hannah grabs you by your wrist, whispering a quiet “come on” in your ear before leading you down the hallway to a winding set of stairs going down into what you presume is the basement of the arena. You didn’t realize how drunk you were until this moment, the chains around your neck feeling too heavy and too foreign to be yours.

All of your plans and all of your suspected self control go out of the window the moment you spot him, it’s like all of the air has been sucked out of the atmosphere. He’s taken his makeup off, he’s changed into a much more casual outfit of jeans and an oversized white tee-shirt. He's wearing a baseball cap backwards, too. He’s no longer Bang Chan, the star on stage, but Chris. The same guy you’ve been pining after for months. The same guy you’re pining after even now.

He laughs at something the man beside him says when he spots Hannah as she runs through the crowd of bodies to him. He wraps her up in a hug quickly, an emotional look taking over his face as he holds her tight. He’s whispering something in her ear that you can’t seem to make out. An overwhelming feeling of fondness comes over you as you watch them together, it almost makes you feel like crying.

That is, until you actually start crying when his eyes meet yours over her shoulder. A smile larger than you’ve ever seen on him spreads over his face as he lets Hannah go and makes a straight bee-line over to you.

The tears in your eyes fall the moment he makes it over to you, picking you up by the waist to spin you around in a twirling hug. You grab the back of his neck and squeal in his ear, finally feeling at home for the first time in months.

He lets you down, but he doesn’t let you go when you finally lock eyes, “Hi, beautiful.” He breathes out dreamily, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

“Hi.” You whisper back to him, another tear slipping down your cheek.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You can’t help but bask in the new feeling of shit just getting real when Hannah landed a kiss on your cheek before you stepped out of the passenger side of her car in front of the swanky hotel you will be calling home for the evening.

Your hands won’t stop shaking around the duffel bag you brought, stepping into the lobby and taking a seat. Chris had texted you earlier that his manager would come find you and let you into the room.

The silence in the empty hotel room engulfs you whole. It feels suffocating being left here alone with your thoughts, only the sound of the air conditioner humming in the background to distract you.

You’ve never liked the quiet all that much, always preferring to have at least one stimuli to distract you from your constantly whizzing thoughts. You always feared that you would wear yourself out by obsessing over them, so constant distraction became your best friend.

Now, however, you don’t have a choice but to sit with your thoughts. Immediately your mind is filled with him. His laugh, his smile, the way he performed on stage tonight, the way he looked at you when he noticed you backstage. Your heart flutters at the last thought and you allow your reverie to be filled with daydreams of you two together. Your first kiss, holding hands, telling him just how much you love him.

That last one hurt, even if it was just your own imagination, a tear pricking your waterline. You’ve spent hours upon hours imagining him with you and feeling the pain of being without him, but he’s never been closer than now and the idea of still not having him while he’s here is heartbreaking. So heartbreaking you aren’t sure what you would do if it came true.

Your tears aren’t left to fall for long as you’re shocked out of your daydream when you hear the telltale sound of a keycard being slid into the lock and the hotel door unlocking. Standing quickly you sniffle your runny nose away and blot under your eyes to clear up any runny mascara and wait.

Your eyes meet as he moves through the doorway and the same smile from before returns to his face. He ditches his suitcase in the entryway and hustles over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his nose into your neck. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold the back of his head, eyes closing in bliss. Chris heaves out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding and melts into your embrace, holding you tighter and tighter as if you might fly away.

You can feel his heartbeat and you’re sure he can feel yours, a smile lifting up the corners of your lips at the feeling of finally having arrived; the feeling of him being here and holding you. Your hand moves instinctively to scratch at the hair on his head and he responds with giggles and a slight squirm in your arms.

“That tickles.” He says into your neck and you respond in your own laugh.

“Sorry.” You whisper back, stopping your movements and dropping your hand to cup the back of his warm neck.

“No, don’t stop.” He says and the smile on your lips grows wider before you hum contentedly and resume your scratch.

He sighs out another big breath, slumping his shoulders to rest slightly against the top of yours, “I didn’t know how much I needed this until now.”

The tears threaten to fall again at that sentence, a pang of hurt strikes your heart behind your sternum as you process his words, choosing just to nod against him.

After what feels like hours he finally pulls back, pausing for a moment to make eye contact with you with a look in his eye you don’t know how to read. He steps back once more, hands still on your waist and skims his eyes up and down your body,

“Wow, look at you.” He says in disbelief and a blush creeps up on your cheek, feeling a bit too exposed by the potentially excessive exposed midriff provided by your mid rise bottoms and bra top.

“What?” You laugh out, trying to read him. Luckily he doesn’t make you read his mind, giving you a look of disbelief before looking back over your outfit and letting out a wolf whistle.

You laugh before his hand moves from your waist to grab the tips of your fingers, gently lifting your arm above your head to signal you to twirl for him. You smile, blush on your cheeks reddening as you do so, feeling his eyes examine you.

When you’re back facing forward he grabs both your hands with his and finally resumes your eye contact with a dreamy look in his eyes.

“You look amazing.” He says with a lilt in his voice that communicates to you he meant every word.

You look down in an attempt to calm your nerves down before responding, “thank you.”

“Did you do it for me?” He says and you let out a nervous chuckle before meeting his eyes that are staring at you with an intensity you weren’t expecting.

Slowly, you nod your head up and down, fluttering butterflies escaping their cage in your belly at the prideful smile he gains after your response.

“Lucky me.” He says pulling you into a hug once more.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Unfortunately, your time with Chris gets cut short by the time 1AM rolls around. He has early morning schedules and then is off to the next country on their tour list later tomorrow night. So you decide to turn in a bit earlier than you had wanted for his sake.

An issue came to rise when you unzipped your duffle bag to grab your change of clothes for the evening, eventually coming to the unfortunate circumstance that through Hannah’s interruption when you were packing earlier you had forgotten a sleep shirt.

You squeeze your eyes shut, sweatshorts in hand as you contemplate your options. You could go without a shirt and just wear your casual crop top intended for tomorrow's outfit, but you don’t want to be an outfit repeater. You could just go without it, but that idea gets shot down the moment you remember your current relationship status with Chris.

The last, and frankly only option, is to ask Chris to borrow a shirt himself.

It shouldn’t be so hard, right?

You stand awkwardly in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning a shoulder against the doorway as Chris brushes his teeth. It’s insane to you how he manages to still be so attractive when spitting.

“Hey, princess.” He says after finally getting rid of the toothpaste suds in his mouth. You feel the need to take a step back at his pet name, so you do.

Looking down at your socked feet in embarrassment you say your next words.

“We- I-” you take a deep breath, “there’s a problem.”

His face drops and he steps into your space, grabbing you by both biceps, “what’s wrong?”

An embarrassing blush creeps up high on your cheekbones and you nibble on the inside of your cheek, “I don’t have a sleep shirt.”

He lets out a sigh of relief and an exasperated laugh, “That’s it? Man, you scared me.” He says with a squeeze on your arms before dropping his hands.

You giggle along, accepting that your flair for drama may have influenced his fear.

“Sorry.” You whisper, looking down at the floor again in even deeper embarrassment.

“I have a ton, hold on.” He says and you step aside to allow him to enter the main room.

“On second thought actually,” he looks at you with a flirty twinkle in his eye as he’s unzipping his suitcase.

“You could just go without one.” The butterflies in your belly burn to a crisp at the fire that just lit up inside of you, more embarrassed than ever.

“Oh, God, look at you!” He’s clearly amused at your growing humiliation, bellowing out a loud laugh and grabbing his stomach.

Oh, you think to yourself, he was joking.

You begin to laugh along with him accepting finally the ridiculousness of the scenario, nearly missing when he throws a shirt at you.

Keeping your head low as you giggle quietly to yourself, you make your way to the bathroom to get ready for the evening.

Once you emerge from the bathroom ready for bed dressed in Chris’ shirt, you find him sitting on the edge of his bed, back facing you.

He’s quiet, shoulders slumped in his muscle tee and staring at the wall. He seems peaceful but also pensive. It’s at this moment that it hits you how deeply you care for him. It’s not like you weren’t aware before, but seeing him so vulnerable and private is bringing up feelings you didn’t know you had. The man sitting with his back facing you is not Bang Chan, star and leader of Stray Kids, he’s not even Chris, the man you have a hopeless crush on.

He’s human, entirely human. He’s vulnerable, weak, and alone as all humans are. You’ve played up this image of him in your head for so long that you forgot who he was at his core. He has seemed so big to you, so unattainable and perfect that you forgot who he truly was. Just like you, a person at his core.

You step towards him and sit down beside him on the bed, the warmth of his thigh invading yours. The moment your skin makes contact with his he slumps over to the side, lying a heavy head on your shoulder. Although no words are spoken, you know exactly what he’s communicating. You lift your hand closest to him and rest it on the back of his head, petting his hair down in response. He sinks deeper into you, his shoulders relaxing at the comforting contact. Your heart leaps out of your chest painfully and you bite your lower lip and squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the telltale warm sting in the corner of your eyes that you’re about to cry. Chris’ hand finds your thigh and his thumb moves back and forth slowly over your skin only expanding the emotions you’re feeling.

You aren’t sure how long you sit there with him in meditative silence, but it’s not before long that you notice his frequent yawning. With a chuckle, you move your shoulder a bit to urge him to sit up. He whines as you stand to face him.

“Let’s get you to bed.” You say and he pouts a childish frown and shakes his head no which makes you laugh.

“I haven’t gotten to tell you how good you look in my shirt yet!” He says, eyes widening while giving you a once over.

“Oh, well, you just did.” You quip, nudging him with your hip as you move to pull back the covers on his bed.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You’ve been lying in bed for what feels like hours awake by the constant flittering thoughts of the man resting in bed 10 feet away from you. He’s here, he’s actually here and yet you’ve never felt further from him than now. The intimacy of the moment you two shared before bed has not left your mind since your head hit the stiff pillow below you.

Fuck it, you decide as you slip out of bed and make the 2 step journey over to his. Chris feels the bed dip beside him and the chilly night air kisses his skin when you lift the covers. Slowly, you move to lie your head down on his chest, a palm on his bare peck and an ear to his collarbone.

“Y/N?” His arm out of instinct wraps around your middle and pulls you flush to his side.

You hush him before replying with a muffled, “Just let me be close to you.”

He has no response, lying stiff while your hair tickles his nose.

Feeling his stiffness, you grow embarrassed. Maybe you read the goodnight hug the wrong way, maybe you’ve been reading the entire night the wrong way. So you cower, lifting your head off his chest to look up at him. “Do you want me to leave?”

He doesn’t respond right away, still in shock that you’re here, surprised by how much holding you in his arms feels right. You feel a bit silly now that you’ve actually followed your desires, but there’s something about being so close to him that feels so right you don’t have the bandwidth to be embarrassed.

“I-” he says, his hands traveling up your back, palms flat against your skin pulling you closer. His eyes dart between your two, reading the desperation and love swirling around in your eyes.

Before you know it, he’s kissing you. Rules and fears be damned, he needs you. He can’t go home with the regret of not doing something to show you how he feels for you.

You respond as quickly as your brain will allow you to, immediate alarms going off that you may be dreaming setting your reaction time back a millisecond or two only to be awoken by the force of his lips against yours grows stronger in him kissing you harder, begging for you to reciprocate. Your eyes flutter shut as you move your lips against his, a move greatly appreciated by him as he responds to pull you in closer, kiss you harder than you thought possible. A groan slips out of his throat when your tongue penetrates his lips, swirling delicately with his. Your kiss is exactly what Chris had always imagined it to be: gentle and passionate, a desperate oasis in a desert.

His hands light fire as they trail down your body to find their home at your hips, squeezing and rocking you onto him in a straddle. Your ass makes its home on his thighs, saving the main course for later. For now all you want to do is taste his lips and revel in the feeling of finally arriving at the destination you’ve been dreaming of for months. You feel on top of the world with how he’s kissing you with so much yearning like he’s been waiting his whole life to be here under you.

His mouth trails down your neck and your hand flies up to rake in his hair to encourage him to continue. He leaves multiple sloppy wet kisses in his wake and a couple love bites too. He spends an extra long time marking near your carotid artery, growing obsessed with the feeling of your wildly beating heartbeat against his lips.

Once he reaches near the bottom of your throat, he chuckles before saying, “It’s so weird, you smell like me.” He says into the neckline of his shirt between kisses.

“I don’t smell like you, your shirt smells like you.” You quip back at him, scratching his scalp and lightly tugging when he finds your sweet spot.

He leans back, a disbelieving look on his face, “Duh.” he laughs.

You shrug, hands leaving his shoulders to find the bottom of your shirt to take it off swiftly and throw across the room.

If his eyes were wide before, they’re as big as saucers now as he stares in shock at your exposed chest.

“Better?” You flirt, hands moving back up to intertwine behind his head.

He leans in at that moment to press a tentative gentle kiss to your chest, “Much better.”

He re-embarks on his journey of kisses down your body as one hand flirts its way up your stomach to grab your breast whole, your nipple immediately hardening at the contact from his icy hands. You flinch back and Chris smirks into the top of your right breast,

“Sorry, cold hands.” He says with a squeeze to your left breast.

“You’ll just have to do something else to warm them up then, huh.” You say between loud pants, anticipating Chris’ arrival at your nipple with too much excitement.

Chris’ mouth moves down quickly to your nipple to leave an open mouthed wet kiss before sucking your nipple into his mouth to flick the hardened tip with his tongue. Your jaw falls slack and a moan erupts from your throat. Chris uses the opportunity of your distraction to snake a free hand down to your ass, giving a tight squeeze.

“Something like that?” He flirts, smirk on his lips as he moves his mouth's attention over to your other breast, leaving his hand on your ass, roaming back and forth in a pet, squeezing often to ground himself. He grows tired of playing it safe quickly, the arm that was on your ass moving to grip around your waist to hold you as he flips you over onto your back. He thinks you look the most beautiful like this, hair splayed all over his pillowcase, topless and with eyes filled with a ferocity he’s never seen from you before but is eager to investigate.

Your hands quickly find the bottom of his muscle tee, pulling the item off of his shoulders and over his head in record speed. He kisses you again as your hands explore the rigid expanse of his torso, trailing the tip of your fingers between the valleys of his abdominal muscles. His own hands have a mission of their own complete as the arm he’s not using to hold himself up tickles down between the valley of your breasts, over your navel and finally to land on your inner right thigh, teasing the side of his pinky finger over your already aroused center. You moan his name when his pinky finger swipes up over the valley of your labia.

“Pl-please.” you moan, pushing your chest up into his, teeth gnawing on your lower lip, hips rolling up in the process in an attempt to get friction from his hand. He just stares in awe at your beauty, unbelievably excited that he’s here experiencing this with you. He sits up on his heels now to slowly draw your shorts off your hips and down your legs. He moves torturously slow, wanting to savor as much of this moment as possible. Once your shorts are long gone and you are fully exposed to him lying on the bed, he loses all sense of self control, one hand flying up to stroke your thigh while the other moves directly to your center, using his 2 first fingers to spread your lips apart. With your lower lip between your teeth you watch him take care of you, admiring you for all that you are in front of him.

In a move you weren’t expecting, his hands chase over to your calf, lifting your leg to be at eye level for him, placing a delicate kiss to the spot just above your inner knee. You can practically feel your heartbeat at your core by how desperate you are for him to just do something. His kisses are slow and delicate as he moves up your leg getting closer and closer to the ultimate prize. Each time he stops to lick and suck you whine, urging him on forward.

He finally places a delicate kiss to your cloaked clitoris, earning a loud moan of his name out of you. He sticks his tongue out to lick a wide strip up over your clitoris, pushing back the hood in the process to give the direct stimulation you need to make your mouth water. One of your hands is grounded in his hair, the other on your breast tweaking with your own nipple as he does his work.

“F-fuck.” you exclaim, hand on his hair tightening their grip as your legs tighten around Chris’ shoulders when he delivers a powerful suck to your clit, tongue moving forward in the act to flick at your exposed nub.

“Again?” He teases, the vibration of his words against your center feeling deliciously satisfying.

He doesn’t wait for your answer, sucking your nub into his mouth one more time and pressing the tip of his pointed tongue into the nub in a nearly orgasm-causing explosion of ecstasy.

When his tongue trails down to your leaking entrance, you pull on his hair to bring him back up to face level with you for a heated kiss. His free hand is busy underneath your kiss as he slips a hand into his shorts and boxers to pump himself a few times to ensure he’s ready. He breaks the kiss only to sit up on his knees between yours and wiggle the basketball shorts down his hips. He stops for a moment right before his dick springs out to admire your expression, totally zeroed in on his crotch with wanting eyes.

When his shorts are finally down his legs you reach out to wrap a hand around the base of his cock, earning you your first moan of his for the evening and his head flying back to stare at the ceiling, your hands tightening in an experimental squeeze before pumping him up and down a couple strokes, thumb pressing harder into the sensitive spot right below the head each time you come up. Soon enough his hand is swatting you away and he’s leaning over you again, cock lightly touching your clit as he kisses you.

“I don’t have a condom,” he says into your lips, rocking his hips slightly forward to offer you stimulation on your clit from his hard head.

“I don’t care, I just want you.” You say against his mouth and he groans, quickly lining up the head of his cock to your entrance and pushing in slowly. You both disconnect your kiss to throw your heads back in earth shattering moans. His shoulders move in a shiver at the sudden stimulation, moving out to rock back into you gently again. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as you moan into his mouth as he fucks you deep and slow, fully inside of you at each stroke. His cock hits a new angle when your walls tighten around him and you let out a loud yelp, eyes squeezing shut. He smirks at your reaction, shifting his knee to redirect his cock to hit that spot again, again, and again.

“Holy fuck, Chris.” you say into his neck, pulling him down to rest his upper body weight on his forearm near the side of your head.

He responds with a sharp breath in your ear before picking up his pace to fuck you faster into the mattress. His free hand comes up between your bodies and grabs one of your breasts, squeezing the nipple between his first 2 fingers, drawing another moan out of you.

“Fuck,” he says, digging his knees deepeer into the mattress for more leverage to fuck into your harder and faster.

“That’s it Chris, holy shit.” you moan, hand flying up to his hair to grip at his short locks.

He lets out a loud moan at your tug on his hair, hips stuttering for a moment at the new wave of pressure that came over him. That urges you to grip tighter and tug again, his hand tightening around your breast in response.

“I-Chris,” You moan after a particularly satisfying stroke and he nods in understanding, picking up his stroke pace once more.

“Me too.” He says and you use your hand in his hair to pull him down to kiss you as you both reach your highs with spotty vision and unbelievably sincere moans. He continues to rock into you until his cock is too soft to continue to help you both ride out your highs to the full finale.

Once he pulls out he falls on top of you, head on your chest with an oof. You two remain there for a moment catching your breaths slowing down your heavily beating hearts. Your hand that was previously pulling on Chris’s hair loosens its grip, stroking the back of his head with gentleness as you bask in the afterglow realization of what had just happened.

He’s the first to open a conversation with a simple, “Wow.” followed by laughter on both ends.

“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily, “Wow.” you mimic him, beginning another fit of laughter to break out between you.

“Were you- uh- were you planning for that to happen?” He says after resting his chin on your shoulder to look into your eyes.

With a soft smile on your face you answer honestly, “Nope.” you giggle and he matches your smile back to you.

“Me neither,” he says, draping an arm across your exposed waist.

“But,” he says as he turns his head to look once more at your naked body, “I’m not mad about it.” he says in a high pitched tone and you laugh again at his antics, truly feeling on cloud nine. He could say anything to you and you’d probably find it endearing enough to giggle at. That’s how happy you are right now.

His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing a couple times and splitting your legs apart, causing the uncomfortable leak of semen to trickle out of you.

Noticing the change in your facial expression, he moves his hand back up to your waist to move your face towards him to place a barely-there chaste kiss on your lips. It’s so gentle and sweet that you can’t help the smile on your face growing against his lips. He joins you soon after until you’re both just smiling against each other's lips. He leans back only to nuzzle his nose against yours, causing your nose to crinkle and a giggle to escape from you. He then places a final true kiss to your lips with a contended hum.

“Why don’t you go wash up, yeah? Then we can talk about what that just meant.” Your eyes widen and you nod, slowly getting up out of bed and padding towards the bathroom with a permanent smile on your face.

Neither of you know much but what you do know is that you two are far from the finish line on your relationship. In fact you’re at the start of the race towards a goal that is very far away and neither of you understand quite yet, but you’re okay with it.

Where you two end is somewhere far away from where you are now, and you couldn’t be happier.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

a/n: the relationship in my life i wrote part 1 based off of has ended up causing me a lot of pain in the time between posting part 1 and 2 so writing this was very difficult. Due to that, I spent much less energy attempting to write something good, more just desiring to write something. I'm sorry it's not the same quality as part 1, I was half desiring to write my own imaginary happy ending, other half just wanting to abandon it and no longer be reminded it ever happened. Thank you for loving part 1 so much, I've never had a taglist this long. It means the world to me

taglist: @elizabeth11moreno @goldieharry @want2besomeoneelse @ynieeeeeee @dreamyenskz @nattisbored @hyunjinsbbokari @skzlzks @lin0ot @iamkuhreesbang @chrisbang-addict @icyllic @a-aaaaaaaaaaaa @idunnomanmynamewastaken @b4ngch4nsimp @hakunaamaatittiessss @writeingdocs @starch1ve @sherryblossom @moonmooncr

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