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blueraineshadows · 10 months

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Guitars, and Heart Strings

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC - angst, fluff, smut

🔞 NSFW 🌶 🔥 ❤️

This is a Request fic for the lovely @simpy-slytherin 💜🥰

Notes: The Legacy Gang have graduated, and they are getting ready to embark on their adult lives. One last night out together in Hogsmeade to kick off summer turns a little explosive for our favourite dueling partners...

The Three Broomsticks was packed out with patrons, Sirona rushed off her feet with the bustling bar filled with witches and wizards who had piled in for the evening's entertainment. Tonight, a local five piece band was playing, a group renowned for their foot stomping shanties and they were very popular.

The lead singer, in particular, was rather well known, a former Hogwarts graduate with a stunning voice and a gorgeous smile. Adam McNeil turned heads, there was no two ways about it.

"Oh, MC, what a beautiful man," Natty sighed. "I'd let him strum my strings any day of the week."

MC snorted a laugh and nudged her friend with her shoulder. "Natty! Just how many fire whiskey shots have you had already?"

Natty grinned. "Not nearly enough to pluck up the courage to go and introduce myself to Adam McNeil that's for sure."

The girls giggled, and MC looked over at Adam, her eyes widening a little as he met her gaze and gave her a smile. She immediately smiled back, a blush colouring her cheeks.

Natty noticed and nudged MC quite firmly with a boney elbow. "Did you see that? He smiled at you!" Natty looked at MC rolling her eyes. "How is this fair? Adam McNeil is giving you sexy smiles! Oh, to be you for one day, MC!"

"Honestly, Natty, you do not want to be in here," MC said, tapping her temple. "Way too much baggage lying around. Anyway, it was just a smile, he probably does that to everyone."

Natty didn't look convinced. "Come on, he was definitely looking at you," she said. She eyed MC a moment. "Or are you playing this down because you've got your eye on someone else?"

MC gave her a look. "We've been over this," she said. "Seb and I are best friends. He's a flirt, sure, but I don't think it goes any further than that."

"But, you want it to, right?"

MC shrugged. "Maybe. I don't want to mess up what we have though, he is too important to me. I would hate it if things got weird."

Natty nodded. "For what it's worth, I think you would make a great couple. But, I understand your worries." She glanced back towards Adam McNeil and smiled. "You could always try a little flirtation with someone else. Adam is looking at you again."

MC turned to see, and Natty was right. MC felt the beginnings of another blush as she smiled back. Again. She took Natty's arm. "Come on, let's get back to the others."

The whole gang had turned out for tonight. MC stared at the table of her friends as her and Natty approached, her heart full of love for them. They had become her family over the last three years. All of them. They were all crammed around one table, chatting and drinking, laughter spilling out freely now that all the exam stress was done.

They were free. It was almost scary.

MC smiled fondly at Poppy, who was practically sitting in Ominis' lap, her little hand clamped firmly around his. She doted on him, her eyes full of her adoration every time she looked at him.

Poppy gave her a sheepish smile. "I did try to save your seat, but then Garreth and Leander arrived."

Both red headed Gryffindors looked up, big smiles as they greeted her. Maybe she'd had a few too many shots of firewhiskey, because she threw her arms around the both of them and planted a kiss on their cheeks. "It's good to see you guys," she said. She meant it. The potential to not see any of them again hurt more than she wanted to admit.

As she pulled away from the Gryffindor lads she met a pair of brown eyes that always set her pulse fluttering. Sebastian's eyes blazed with something, glittering dangerously as his hand clasped her wrist possessively. He tugged her away from Garreth and Leander and patted his lap. "There's a seat right here for you, MC," he said.

MC eyed his lap. Oh, it was tempting. Her heart started pounding at the thought of it. She didn't trust herself to do it though, the proximity combined with the alcohol might lead her into dangerous territory. Her chat with Natty had brought all her torment over Sebastian to the forefront of her mind.

Turns out she didn't have a choice. Sebastian had her wrist in his grip, his smirk dangerous as he tugged her down onto his lap, his hand planting firmly just above her hip. She gasped as she tried not to spill her drink, adjusting herself so she was a bit more comfortable. Their gazes met and she bit her lip at the possessive satisfaction in his gaze.

"Someone is feeling rather hands on this evening," she quipped.

"Only thinking of your comfort, MC," he said. "It's not very gentlemanly to leave a lady standing now, is it."

"A real gentleman would have given up his chair, not manhandled said lady into his lap," she said, poking him in the chest.

"Ah, but this is much more fun," he said. "I'm at a better advantage for annoying you, and I know how much you love it when I do that."

"Bloody hell, would you two just fuck already?" Garreth said across the table.

MC gaped at him. "Garreth!"

Sebastian's fingers gripped her hip a little tighter as Garreth laughed and shrugged, he held his hands out. "What? We're all thinking it. I'm just saying it out loud."

MC glanced around the table and everyone was suddenly very interested in something else, their drink or the band, anything but her gaze. Poppy gave her an apologetic look. MC turned to Sebastian and was met with a rather smug smirk. She narrowed her eyes. "Hands where I can see them, Sallow," she quipped.

He laughed and held both hands up in surrender. "My hands are at your command." His wink sent a shiver down her spine. Oh, she had a few ideas of what he could do with those hands. MC looked down at her drink and the thought crossed her mind that she should watch herself, too many of those and her restraint might snap.

See? Dangerous territory.

The chatter round the table continued, the table becoming cluttered with their empty drinks. The band continued to play and the atmosphere in the pub became rather lively. MC tried not to think about the feel of Sebastian's hand at her hip, or the fact that he barely took it away from that spot. She felt the rumble of his laughter through his chest where her arm was against it. Every now and then his breath would tickle the loose strands of hair at her neck where it had slipped from her clip, she rubbed her hand there once as it tickled and he noticed. He smirked and blew gently onto her skin, making the loose strands of hair dance and goosebumps erupt down her arm. Her nudge and gentle scolding just made him smile wider.

Feeling fidgety, she squirmed a little in his lap and heard his breath hiss through his teeth, his hands stilling her hips. "Sorry, am I squishing you?" She asked.

He shook his head and shifted her ever so slightly himself, adjusting his seating. Her bottom brushed up against something hard and she wriggled to get comfortable, whatever was in his pocket was rather annoying. He made a small, low sound and she glanced at him to see colour flooding into his cheeks, his eyes dark pools of utter temptation. Realisation flooded through her, and desire pierced right through her core. Oh, fuck!

Her eyes flew to Natty. "Fancy a dance, Nats? I need to burn off some energy," she said. She risked another awkward glance at Sebastian before she slid from his lap, her legs a little wobbly as she clasped Natsai by the hand. "Come on, you can drool over Adam McNeil while we dance."

....*...

Adam fucking McNeil. Sebastian's hand curled into a fist on his thigh. MC, Poppy and Natty were dancing, laughing, and Adam McNeil's eyes were lingering for far too long on MC for his liking.

Sebastian's gaze travelled over MC as she danced, her hips swaying, her arse perfect in those tight little trousers she wore. He adjusted the crotch of his trousers, a little embarrassed that she had caused him to get a little too aroused when she sat on his lap. The look on her face had been priceless though!

Even her blouse was close fitting this evening, the throat open exposing her collar bones, the mini corset vest she wore accentuated the exquisite curve of her waist and pushed her breasts up in a way that made his mouth go dry.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who had noticed. The singer, this Adam McNeil that the girls were all sighing over, was watching MC too closely, his gaze following her as she danced and offering up little smiles her way. What was worse, she was smiling back.

"That lead singer loves himself a bit doesn't he?" He grumbled.

Imelda huffed a laugh. "What's not to love? He's talented, devilishly handsome, and charming beyond belief," she said. She gave Sebastian a sly look. "And if my eyes don't deceive me, he seems to have taken an interest in our very own Hero of Hogwarts. I'd say that's what your pissed about, not how Adam views himself."

Sebastian glared at her. "Who says I'm pissed off?"

She laughed. "I'm just spitting facts, Sallow. If you want to get your dick wet, I'd quit whining and do something about it, before someone else does."

Ominis nearly choked on his butterbeer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "My sentiments exactly, although I might have chosen my words a little more eloquently."

"Oh, don't you start," Sebastian sighed. He stood and fished in his pockets for his coins. "I need another drink."

Waiting at the bar, Sebastian seethed. The song had ended and the band were taking a moment to have a drink and wipe their sweaty faces with towels. They chatted amongst themselves, but Adam only had eyes for MC. He beckoned her over and she went, her smile lighting up her face. Adam bent to say something into her ear and she nodded, then moved to say something back to him. Sebastian did not like the way Adam looked at her, he didn't like it at all.

He grit his teeth and reminded himself that he had given up the use of Unforgivables a long time ago. But his wand felt heavy and willing in his pocket as MC put her hand on Adam's arm and laughed.

....*....

MC was loving this evening. She paused in her dancing, a little out of breath, her blood pumping pleasantly, the alcohol giving her a brilliant buzz.

"I love this band!" She said to Natty. "I haven't danced like this in so long."

"They play around the Highlands regularly," Natty said. "Maybe we should go to other gigs?"

"Oh, yes, I would love to!" MC beamed. Not only at seeing the band play again, but at the thought of meeting up with her friend. She desperately didn't want to lose touch.

"I think Adam might be pleased to see you there too," Natty said. "Not that I am jealous or anything."

MC put her arm around Natty and gave her a squeeze. "I told you, its nothing, just a bit of harmless fun."

They went back to the table to quench their thirst, MC returning to Sebastian, but she hesitated at the sour look on his face. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Everything alright?"

He pulled out of her touch and nodded tightly. "Couldn't be better," he said.

MC frowned. She was having too much of a good time and she did not want to deal with one of his mood swings right now.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged.

She picked up her drink and moved towards Leander instead. She tapped him on the shoulder. "Can I sit here?" She asked.

"Oh, of course," he said. He immediately went to stand to offer her his chair. She giggled and pushed him back down. "No, no, silly. I meant here." She patted her hand on his thigh and he blushed a brilliant shade of red.

He froze, his hands held out awkwardly, as MC sat on his thigh and slung her arm around his shoulders. She turned to pointedly stare at Sebastian, one eyebrow raised. If he wanted to be a misery, she would give him something to sulk about. His mouth tightened subtly and she smirked. Serves him right.

"Is this alright?" She asked Leander quietly. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Erm, yeah, it's alright," he said.

She smiled. "I don't mind sitting on your lap. You're a gentleman, Leander," she said. "I trust you completely."

The band finished their song and MC turned to clap enthusiastically along with everyone else. Sebastian sat there without moving a muscle.

Adam wiped his face with a towel and then picked up an acoustic guitar. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," he said, loudly. His voice carried across the room beautifully. "This next song is a bit slower, if that's alright, and I would like to dedicate it to a rather lovely young lady in the room. She knows who she is."

Adam's gaze met MC's and she felt her cheeks warm considerably, and then he winked. Adam McNeil fucking winked at her! She put her hand to her chest, flattered beyond belief. She stared back at Adam, stunned, as he began to play his guitar.

The song was considerably stripped back, and when Adam sang, she felt herself melting. She hadn't even noticed how her fingers were digging into Leander's shoulder until he shifted it under her. She released her grip, muttering an apology.

Adam kept his eyes on her, and people were starting to notice.

"Fucking hell," Imelda muttered behind her. "He is absolutely singing that to MC!"

MC swallowed, and she broke eye contact with Adam to glance at Sebastian. His face might as well have been carved from stone. His eyes were cold fury as he glared towards the band, towards Adam, and then he looked at her. MC almost flinched at the coldness she saw there in his eyes.

She had to look away. She felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, confused. How many times had she sent signals to Sebastian and got nowhere? Their playful flirting was apparently just that, playful. And now he was jealous? Of Adam?

Tonight was supposed to be about fun, and it had been. And as for Adam, how could she not be flattered? He was utterly charming, and he was looking at her in such a way that made her feel good. She was not owned by anyone, she did not need permission to have fun, and she was not going to let Sebastian Sallow get under her skin. Let him sit and stew in his jealous misery.

She stood up from Leander's lap, thanking him for allowing her to sit there, and she moved to the bar, ignoring Sebastian completely. She needed a drink.

....*...

"Must you insist on being an insufferable fool," Ominis snapped. He put a long fingered hand to his brow and squeezed. "Quit whining and moaning, you're rather spoiling the mood of the whole evening."

Sebastian eyed his best friend, his lips twisted into a sour grimace of envy. "Oh, and I suppose you would be quite content to sit there whilst some back street singer started fawning all over Poppy, would you?"

"That is entirely different," Ominis said, his brow creasing with annoyance.

"I don't see how," Sebastian muttered. He folded his arms, pouting miserably. He leant back against the barrels outside the Three Broomsticks, out here getting some much needed air away from the band inside the pub. He didn't think he could stand another minute of watching Adam McNeil flirting with MC, and seeing her enjoy it.

"It is completely different," Ominis huffed. He leant in towards Sebastian, stern faced. "I had the balls to ask Poppy to be my girl, and I'm rather glad that I did. I get to hold her hand whenever I like, I get to kiss her whenever I like. Unlike yourself, who makes a rather big show of being an insufferable flirt, but you haven't got the nerve to actually tell MC how you really feel!"

Sebastian stared at Ominis, a flush beginning to creep up his neck. A slither of envy coiled in his gut thinking of how Ominis had mentioned being able to kiss his girl whenever he wanted.

"If another man even dared to think about laying a finger on Poppy, then I would absolutely be furious. Only I get to do that. You, however, have no right to sit there sulking and spoiling MC's evening just because you're not getting your own way," Ominis continued. "And if she does end up leaving the bar with that singer, then you've only yourself to blame!"

Sebastian gaped. "What? She will not be leaving the bar with him! Not if I have anything to do with it!"

Ominis looked pained. Sebastian cared little, he was too busy imagining MC leaving in the arms of that bloody singer. His hand slid into his pocket and gripped his wand tight. Over his fucking dead body she would. MC was his! How could she not be?

They had shared more in the last few years than some did in a lifetime. There would be no life without her, not for him. He belonged to her, and she belonged to him. At least, that's how it was in his head.

What if it wasn't like that in her head? What if she went off with Adam and had this whole new life and forgot about him? Isn't that one of the fears that has kept his mouth sealed shut in the first place, her leaving him, forgetting about him?

Oh gods. He was going to have to tell her.

Sebastian's grip relaxed on his wand and he looked at Ominis. His shoulders slumped with the gutting realisation that once again, his friend was right. Why did he always have to be right?

"It must be rather smug to be you, Ominis," he groused. "Doesn't it get tiring being right all the time?"

"You have no idea, Sebastian," Ominis said, wearily. "When it comes to you, I feel I must be always one step ahead to prevent disaster."

Despite his sulk, Sebastian couldn't help but grin. He loved nothing more than keeping people on their toes, and he doubted he would ever stop.

Sebastian decided he needed another drink, a drop of courage. After all, he was about to go and tell the girl he loved how he felt before handsome Adam could whisk her away. He quite liked the idea of being able to kiss MC whenever he liked.

....*....

MC stood and clapped as the band finished their last song of this set. Adam said they would be taking a 30 minute break before returning to finish the evening off. Natty asked if she wanted another drink, and MC was about to say yes, but Natty's eyes had widened and she grabbed MC's hand. "Merlin, Adam is coming over here," she hissed.

"What?" MC turned and saw that Natty was right. His smile was devastating.

MC threw a quick glance back over towards their table, and her friends. Sebastian and Ominis were nowhere to be seen. Then she reminded herself that she didn't need to answer to anybody, she was her own person. It would be rude to ignore Adam, especially after he sang for her.

"Hello, ladies," Adam said.

"Hello," Natty replied. Her cheeks darkened in a deep blush. "You have been wonderful!"

"Oh, well thank you," he said. "It's always great to hear that people have enjoyed our music."

MC's lips curved into a smirk as she looked at Natty. She was fairly certain that it wasn't the music so much as the man delivering it that Natty was so enamoured by.

"I hope I'm not being too forward," Adam said, and he put a gentle hand to MC's elbow. "But, I was wondering if I might steal you from your friend for a few moments."

His Scottish accent was beautiful, soft and melodic, and MC was just staring. She felt the sharp pinch of Natty's fingers and mentally shook herself. "Oh, erm...sure?" She said, nervously.

She glanced at Natty who gave her a rigorous nod, practically shoving MC in Adam's direction. "Of course you can steal her," Natty said. "Can't he, MC? I don't mind."

Adam smiled. "MC? That's a bonnie name," he said. He met her gaze. "A bonnie name for a bonnie lass."

MC could have sworn she heard Natty utter a little whine. She threw her a look but Natty was waving her off, and Adam was taking her arm. MC felt a million butterflies erupt in her stomach. What in Merlin's name was happening here?

Adam led her over towards the corner near where there instruments were set up. MC eyed them curiously, some she recognised, others she wasn't so sure of. They certainly made for enjoyable music though when all played together.

"I was hoping to get a moment alone with you, MC," Adam said. "You've been a rather delightful distraction all evening, if you don't mind me saying."

She did not mind, she realised. "So, am I right in assuming that I was the girl you dedicated that song to? Or, do you say that to all girls?"

The twinkle in his eye had her flustered. "Only the really pretty ones," he said. He leant in a little closer, his intriguing scent surrounding her. "And you, MC, are beautiful. I couldn't resist stealing you away from your friends. Although, before I make a complete fool of myself, I thought I had better check something. Are you attached to any of the gentleman that are sitting with you this evening? I don't want to step on anyone's toes."

The way Sebastian had gone off in a sulk, you would think that someone had stomped on his toes with heavy boots. MC pushed the thought aside. She shook her head. "Nope, no gentleman or lady to tread on," she said. "I am a free spirit."

Was she? Her heart clenched a little, her confusing feelings for Sebastian churning away in there. However, Adam looked very pleased at this news, and his smile was so very lovely. "In that case, I would be honoured if you would like to share a drink with me while we're on our break. Would you like that?"

"I would," she agreed.

And that was how it started, how she found herself sipping whiskey with a gorgeous Scottish singer, and ended up perched on his lap while he tried to show her how to play his guitar. Never mind that she didn't have the first clue how to play, or that all the whiskey in her blood had released the flirt in her, MC was rather enjoying herself.

Adam brought his arm around to show her how to press her fingers onto the strings, arranging them into a chord on the fret board - a new term she had just learnt. His touch was firm but gentle, and she was surprised at how she didn't mind it all. It was more difficult than it looked, the strings hard under her soft finger tips. She held the strings down in the position he had arranged and then she strummed with her other hand.

She winced at the off sound it made. She giggled. "I think I should leave the music to the experts," she said. "You make it look so easy."

His breath tickled her ear as he spoke. "Ach, its only practise, MC," he said. "Everyone has to start somewhere. Have another wee go."

She looked down at the guitar and readied for another try. Adam's hand moved to her waist, the touch feather light, almost hesitant. Her breathing hitched a little, and while it certainly didn't feel terrible, a strange flush of guilt swept over her. It wasn't Sebastian's hand.

Trying to concentrate, she strummed the guitar, and this time it didn't sound so bad. She smiled, and Adam's hand pressed a little more firmly at her waist. "See? Much better this time," he murmured near her ear.

MC felt warmth spread through her at the same time a shiver slid down her spine. He was beginning to affect her, her thoughts growing hazy. It was so confusing. She wanted him to touch her, and yet all she could see was Sebastian's face. She swallowed, and cursed herself for drinking more blasted whiskey than she should have.

She should tell him. It wasn't fair to lead Adam on, she couldn't let him think she was available after all. She shifted on his lap, pushing the guitar forward so she could turn to him, her eyes locking on his very pretty ones. Oh, Merlin, he was even more lovely this close up.

The words were on the tip of her tongue, she didn't have a boyfriend, but she did have feelings for someone. And then his gaze dropped to her lips, he was leaning in, and her heart sped up in a mixture of excitement and panic. Oh, gods, he was going to kiss her!

And then a firm hand grabbed hold of her upper arm, she jumped, shocked, eyes flying up to meet with a pair of furious brown eyes.

"Don't even fucking think about it," Sebastian growled.

....*....

The band was no longer playing as Sebastian entered the bar, he made his way to order his drink, Ominis beside him. He glanced about looking for MC, nerves fluttering about what he might say to her. She wasn't at the table with the others and he frowned a little, his gaze swinging about the room.

He froze. There she was, sitting on Adam McNeil's lap, his hands on her as she tried to play his fucking guitar. He watched, livid, as Adam spoke into her ear and she smiled that beautiful smile of hers. No way. He wasn't having this.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he snapped.

"What is it?" Ominis asked.

But Sebastian didn't answer. He was moving, pushing his way through the bar to get to MC, he wasn't going to stand for another moment of Adam's hands on her. As he neared them, his eyes blazed as she turned to Adam, and the bastard was leaning in for a kiss.

Not on his fucking watch! He reached out, desperate, panic seizing him as he clamped his hand hard around her arm. He felt her jolt with shock, but he didn't loosen his grip. Couldn't, even if he wanted to. She looked up at him, surprised and a little fearful.

"Don't even fucking think about it." He ground the words out past the frightened fury in his throat. He couldn't lose her, he just couldn't.

"Sebastian!" She gasped his name, the sound of it breathless, pained almost.

Adam was looking between MC and him, confused. "Okay, easy now," he said slowly.

Sebastian glared at him. "Get your hands off her," he spat. He tugged at MC's arm. "Get up, now!"

MC struggled to put down the guitar whilst Sebastian was holding her so tightly, but he refused to let her go, his fingers clamped in a vice like grip. Adam took the guitar and then Sebastian hauled her up, dragging her out away from him.

"What are you doing?!" She cried. She tried to resist his pull, but he just tugged her harder. "Sebastian!"

She looked at Adam who was reaching out for her other hand. "I'm so sorry," she said, her eyes soft as she looked at him.

Sebastian's stomach churned with jealous rage and he clenched his teeth.

Adam frowned. "I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend," he said. His eyes hardened as he looked at Sebastian.

MC shook her head. "I don't, but..."

Sebastian seized on that word. But what?

"...I'm so sorry," she finished.

He threw Adam a warning look to back off and began to head for the nearest exit, dragging MC along beside him. She tried to pull her arm free, and kept glancing back towards Adam, but Sebastian just wanted to get her out of there, away from Adam, away from all the eyes in the room that were now watching the drama unfold.

Sebastian didn't even try to seek out Ominis and the others. He knew all he would see was them with their heads in their hands. Oh look, Sebastian had spat his dummy out again. Fuck it! Right now, all he could see was red. And all he wanted was her, with him, and him alone.

....*....

Anger. That was her first reaction. How dare Sebastian drag her bodily out of the pub like that, and in front of everyone too! She had struggled as much as she could against his iron grip on her arm, but she hadn't wanted to create even more of a scene than they already were, so she let him take her outside.

Embarrassment. Oh, there was plenty of that! For one, she was fairly certain that she had been about to let Adam McNeil kiss her, and guilty shame flooded through her. Sebastian would have seen! Everyone could see. Inwardly, she was cringing.

Outwardly, she was firing daggers with her eyes as Sebastian dragged her across the cobbled street and down a path. He was the most insufferable prick sometimes! She yanked against his grip again, his fingers biting viciously into her muscle. This was going to bruise.

"Let me go," she demanded.

He looked at her. "No."

They carried on walking, her feet stumbling a little to keep up with his pace. "You're so bloody rude," she snapped. "How could you do that?"

"He was touching you," he said. Simple, controlled, matter of fact. "I didn't like it."

"Oh, you didn't like it?" She scoffed. She fumbled for her wand. "Well, I don't like this, so let me go!"

She thrust her wand up under his chin, pressing it against his flesh. He halted but didn't let her go. His eyes slid to hers. "I'd think very carefully about your next move, MC," he said. His words, spoken so silky smooth and dark, it sent a shiver down her spine. Her lips parted, her eyes locked with his.

No. She was mad at him, she couldn't let him distract her. She pressed her wand in to his neck a little more. "Like you did back there? Did you even think about it? Yanking me from Adam's lap like that! How dare you! You ought to go back and apologise for such roguish behaviour."

He scoffed. "Not fucking likely," he said. He leant in close, pushing his own neck against her wand, his skin becoming white and taut under the pressure. Her hand trembled a little. His eyes burned into hers. "He put his hands on you, MC. It was unacceptable."

"Unacceptable to whom, Sebastian?" She frowned. "Isn't it up to me who puts their hands on me?"

He swallowed, her wand jolting under the movement. That had to be seriously uncomfortable, but he didn't move back nor push her hand away. "Is that what you really wanted then? You wanted him to touch you. Looked like I interrupted a kiss too, how romantic of him, snogging you over his guitar."

Jealous prick! Inside she was pissed off at him, but also, quivering with delicious want. The balance was swinging madly and it was making her dizzy. He had no bloody right looking so attractive whilst pissing her off!

She couldn't resist the urge to niggle at him, rile him up, push him...to what end she had no idea. "It was rather romantic, at least I thought so. He had such gentle hands."

Sebastian's nostrils flared and his eyes raged. He stared at her, a war going on behind his gaze. Then he finally shoved her wand away from his neck, his hand released her arm and he turned away. He raked his hands through his hair and began to pace. He let out a frustrated growl through his teeth.

"So, one minute you're wriggling around on my lap...and don't pretend you have no idea what I'm talking about," he said giving her a look. "And then the next, you are off in the corner trying to snog the lead singer of the band. What are you playing at?"

She gaped. "Just what are you suggesting, Sebastian?"

"Not suggesting, asking," he said. "Are you deliberately trying to wind me up?"

"How is this suddenly all about you?" She cried. "I thought we were having a lovely evening, then you got all sulky and pissy, disappeared for a while, and then storm back to rip me so rudely away from Adam, and drag me bodily out of the pub! If anyone deserves to be cross here, it's me!"

"And if I hadn't pulled you off him? What then?" He demanded. "Would you have kissed him? Gone home with him?"

"I...I don't know!" She cried. "I didn't plan any of this, I was just enjoying my evening."

He looked crestfallen for a moment, before turning away, pushing his hand through his hair. "You really might have left with him?" He asked quietly. His voice dropped even lower and, if she had heard him correctly, his next words chilled her. "You would have left me."

"I wouldn't have gone home with him." She said. She had been about to tell Adam that she had feelings for someone else after all, she really hadn't planned on going anywhere with him.

He rubbed the back of his head with his hand and began to pace again. "You would have kissed him though, wouldn't you?"

She lowered her gaze to the path, suspecting he might be right on that front. Why should she feel so guilty? Why were they arguing about this? They weren't even a couple.

"Are you jealous?" She asked. Clearly, he was jealous, but would he admit it.

He stopped pacing and clenched his hands into fists. He gave her a sideways look. "Do you want me to be?"

She rolled her eyes. "For fuck sake, Sebastian, does everything have to be a game to you? Just answer the question. Are you jealous?"

His mouth tightened. She took a step towards him. "Yes or no? Shall I go back there, see if he fancies another try? I might let him."

"You will not," he hissed. He took hold of her upper arms. "You're not going anywhere."

"Going to stop me are you?" She taunted. Her pulse fluttered hotly, blood thrumming with whiskey and fire. "Now, why would you do that?"

"Because..." He stopped, lips clamping shut.

"Yes?" She leaned in towards him. He stared, wide eyed as she got closer and closer. His fingers were fisted in the sleeves of her blouse, but his arms bent as she invaded his space.

Her anger had shifted, twisting into fierce need. Adam didn't seem so important anymore. It was just Sebastian and her, alone on this little pathway in the dusky shadows of Hogsmeade.

He was so beautiful, she loved that face, had seen him go through all sorts of emotions with those eyes that she could drown in. She had pulled him through hurts, trauma, had fought beside him, cried in his arms. How could he ever think that she would leave him?

"I would never leave you, you know," she said, softly. His eyes flickered with a devastating flash of vulnerability. "Never."

"You should," he rasped. His breaths were coming quicker, more harried. "Why would you want someone as fucked up as me, when you could have someone like Adam?"

The broken sound of his voice crushed her.

"I don't want Adam," she whispered.

His eyes locked on hers. She put her wand away and took his face in her hands. "I want you."

His breathing faltered. "What?"

....*....

He had heard her right, hadn't he? He just stared at her, blankly, his mind empty of all thoughts and he scrambled to gather them.

Her hands, capable of such beauty and terror, were holding his face. The pads of her thumbs swept over his cheeks and his lungs screamed for him to draw a breath.

She wanted him.

Words were useless. They wouldn't come at his call, so he just pulled her closer, closing the gap, and claimed her lips with his own. At the first touch of her softness he knew he never wanted it to stop. He just held his lips there, unmoving, freeze framing this moment because he never wanted to forget it.

Her hands slid down his face, finger tips like searing torture as she smoothed them up behind his ears and into his hair. She broke contact with his lips to draw a breath and kissed him again, expelling the breath as a moan.

That's when he lost control of any restraint he may have been clinging on to. His mouth devoured her, stealing every gasp and moan she uttered as he swirled his tongue hungrily between her parted lips. His hands were swift, greedy, as they skimmed her hips, sliding around to grab her arse in those tight little trousers.

Oh, fuck, he throbbed with desperate need, his hips seeking hers as his hands pressed against peachy softness. Somewhere, in the back of his filthy mind, he was aware they were on a public path. He shuffled her backwards, unwilling to stop kissing her mouth, and pressed her up against a rough stone wall.

"Sebastian," she panted. Her fingers pulled at his hair, the tug sharp but highly arousing.

"Tell me again," he demanded. He nipped and licked along her jaw, burying his nose against her neck to breathe in her scent. He was dizzy with it, completely lost. His. And only his. "Tell me you want me."

His breaths guttered and a low moan slid from him as she rolled her hips seductively against him. "I want you," she sighed. "Please..."

He gripped her hips, forehead pressed to hers, staring down to where she was grinding against him. His cock was so hard, so fucking hot for her, that it was almost painful. "Let me fuck you," he begged. "Fuck..."

She was tugging at his vest, popping the buttons and then working on his shirt, as it opened she dragged her finger nails down his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, clinging on to a semblance of control. He did not want to shoot his load too soon.

He growled through gritted teeth and pulled at the buttons of her trousers, opening them enough to get his hand in. "Oh, my..."

She was soaked, her underwear clinging to her damp flesh. His finger tips slid luxuriously through heavenly slick folds and he thought he might die. Delicious little mewls came from her lips as he boldly pressed two fingers into her, groaning at the soft heat of her tight walls. Now his cock was positively dripping with need to get in there.

He had once imagined the first time he would take her. He had the whole scene played out in his head, how he would light those little floating candles that she loved. Have a fire roaring in the grate and slowly kiss every inch of her.

This, this was nothing like that. But fuck, was it good.

He shoved her trousers roughly downwards, yanking one of her legs free of them, he lifted that gloriously bare leg and resumed his finger play, seeking out that perfect little nub. Her hips flexed and her finger nails bit like tiny teeth as she rutted against his hand.

He bit her lower lip, sucking it gently and tasting blood. "Does it feel good?" He asked. She nodded, dragging in her breaths. He pumped two fingers into her, his thumb dragging lazily over her clit. "Then tell me, tell me how you like it, and I'll give you more."

Her moan was sinful and he bent to suck at her neck, tasting her.

"More...Seb...please," she whimpered. "So good..."

He rubbed tighter, faster circles and she whined, a string of little cries left her and then she was cumming, clenching and bucking. She was fucking perfect and he wanted it all.

Not even waiting for her to calm down, he hosted her legs up and around him, lined himself up and slid his aching cock into her clenching, soaked pussy.

He had to take a few seconds to clear the haze of lust that clouded his vision, her hot tightness sucking him deeper until he thought he might pass out. Her hands were clutching at his shirt and vest that were hanging loosely from his shoulders, her mouth gulping, overwhelmed and shocked at how quickly he had done it.

"You feel amazing," he groaned. He adjusted his grip, one arm taking the weight of her pelvis, the other braced against the wall and he began to thrust.

Oh gods! His eyes rolled and his teeth clenched. He couldn't hold back. He was going to have some apologies to make after this, but he couldn't help it. She had driven him so wild that he was spinning out of control, fucking her so tight and hard she had to throw out a hand against the wall to brace herself.

"I'm...sorry," he panted. "Am I...hurting you?"

She gripped the back of his head. "Don't you dare stop," she said, through gritted teeth. "I want it...give me all of it."

Fucking hell! It was hot, it was fast and stars exploded behind his eyelids as his cock finally let go, throbbing deliciously as he pumped her full of himself.

He was breathing hard, so happy, so overwhelmed. He took her face in his hands, could feel her trembling against him.

"I love you, MC," he said fiercely. "You're mine, all mine, and I am never letting you go."

"Promise?" She whispered. She put her hands over his, her eyes glittering with tears. "Promise me you'll never let me go."

"I Promise," he said. "And you know me, I never go back on my word."

She looked up at him and his heart swelled to almost bursting point. "I do know you," she said. "And I love you and I'm going to make you a promise too. I will never leave you, Seb. I physically couldn't do it. I wouldn't be able to breathe."

He held her, tight, eyes closed, savouring everything about this moment. She was his, and he was hers, and it was no longer just in his head. It was real.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #blueraineshadows

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volklana · 15 days

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Sihtric's Whore

Request: how about in season 3 when Sihtric 'betrays' Uhtred to go and spy on the danes, you try to stop him from taking the captives and then in the morning even though he doesn't mean it Uhtred scolds you in front of everyone for just 'letting him go'

Warning: Use of the word whore in a derogatory manner.

My very first time writing for this character I hope I did him justice.

Requests are open.

Sihtric was becoming more solemn with each sip, an uneasy expression crossing his face.

One you were not used to seeing, one that made you, in turn, uneasy.

Finan was barely able to stay awake, head propped up on his hand and you were yearning for Uhtred to finally release you all so you could away to bed.

Having checked on Osferth already, your eyes were heavy and your heart was weary, you would never admit to another soul that you had cried tears beside the sleeping baby monk earlier, death had come a little too close for your liking and until Skade had lifted her curse, you were afraid for your friends that it’s boney arms would try to snatch another one of them away before their time.

You released a breath you didn’t realise you were holding as Uhtred approached your table.

You watched in horror as the arguing began between Uhtred and Sihtric, reaching out a hand to stay Sihtric and shrinking when he swatted it away, as Uhtred got up to leave.

“Sihtric, you are drunk and tired,” Finan hissed and you silently urged Sihtric with your eyes not to continue down this path.

You were both equally horrified when Uhtred swung back around, informing Sihtric he was welcome to leave if he was unhappy in his service.

You and Finan were out of your seats quicker than the blink of an eye when Sihtric rounded on Unthred, raising his voice “I have fought for you!”

“Sihtric please, please don’t do this,” you pleaded, hands on his chest attempting to push him back towards his seat and he swung wildly free from your grasp with a snarl.

You turned, silently pleading with Uhtred when he spat “Stay or go I do not care,” you could not hide the hurt that etched across your face.

“He does not mean that. He does care.” Finan tried to appease, urging everyone to sit back down.

“If you wish to make the square Uhtred of Bebbanburgh, let us do it.”

“No,” you and Finan cried out in unison “There will be no squares made, no fighting, just sleep!” Finan pleaded.

After Uhtred’s threat to kill Sihtric if he was still here in the morning you heard your blood pound in your ears.

You scurried after Uhtred, catching him just as he made it outside.

“Uhtred,” you called but he made no reply “Lord,” you cried out this time more urgent and when he finally turned to face you, you could see the venom in his eyes.

“You can’t mean it, please?”

“Every word,” he spat “And if that displeases you little one, you may follow.”

You shrank back from him eyes stinging at the betrayal and burst your way back into the tavern.

You took a seat beside a defeated Finan. Sihtric was refusing to face either of you. Turning his attention instead to the Danes. You grasped at Finan’s hand a silent plea to reassure you that everything was going to be okay, and he shook his head, eyes softening when he took in your huge, worried ones staring back. He couldn’t reassure you, because he couldn’t even reassure himself.

You were sitting by Osferth’s side, sleep had long evaded you with the worry pitting in your stomach and for the first time in your life you prayed to the gods that morning would not come, your only hope at preventing the inevitable fall out from this night.

You saw the flicker of shadows and the muffled sound of steps pass Osferth’s window and realised with a start that the Danes were escaping and grabbing your sword you set off in pursuit, you arrived just as Sihtric was about to mount his horse.

“Sihtric,” you cried out in disbelief “What is this?” You demanded, angrily holding the sword up to his chest, whilst the rest of the Danes looked on.

You watched as his expression hardened “I am leaving, as has been commanded,” he spat.

“You began this course, Sihtric. I begged you. As I am begging you now. Please do not do this.”

“It is done,” he said with a finality, eyes softening only for a second when he registered the tears in your eyes.

“Put down the sword, y/n,” he urged, grasping your weapon by the blade and easing it down, “We both know you will not harm me. I leave tonight, come with me if you wish. You know I will care for you and keep you safe but I will offer this only once.”

“You know I can’t,” you cried begging him with your eyes “Please stay here. With me,”

“You know I can’t,” he countered softly, before his eyes hardened again, “Stay with Uhtred or come with me. Make your decision now and make it quick.”

You shook your head as tears freely slipped down your face and he nodded with a snarl, before turning and mounting his horse “And so you have made it, as I have made mine,” he kicked his horse into action and you watched in horror as the Danes did the same, leaving you amidst the chaos of hooves and dust.

Finan burst into your room at first light and one look at your disheveled appearance told him everything he needed to know.

“I couldn’t stop him,” you cried into his chest “He wouldn’t stay.”

“Hush now, it’s alright,” the Irish man soothed rubbing patterns onto your back “You’re alright. I’ve got ya.”

Osferth was well enough to make it to the Alehouse and was delighting in having you and Finan fetch him anything he needed, namely ale.

Silence descended when Uhtred returned back, as he and Finan embraced and he informed him Sihtric was gone, you watched in silence as he embraced Osferth and then his eyes like lightning found yours, and you quickly turned your gaze to the floor.

“I tried to stop him lord,” was all you could mutter.

“You let him escape,” he answered back quickly “And the prisoners,”

“Yes, lord,” you confirmed and he made a tutting noise, followed by a long sigh.

“She was one girl against a band of Danes,” Osferth argued on your behalf

“She was one girl, in love with one Dane,” Uhtred fired back and you felt your body light on fire with shame amidst the laughter that broke out among the men.

Your voice shook as you wrung your hands together “But I chose you, and I won’t fail you again lord,”

Uhtred softened at this, his expression melting, and he nodded your way with a soft, reassuring smile before he pulled you into a quick embrace.

“It is done, little one,” he whispered affectionately and you felt the weight of seven worlds fall off your shoulders.

Sihtric’s betrayal, the men and Osferth to your horror were calling it. As though Uhtred was the Christian nailed god, and Sihtric were Judas, you knew thirty pieces of silver had not been exchanged but maybe that would have made his desertion somewhat more understandable than a few heated words. But if Uhtred was Christ and Sihtric was Judas, you had become Mary Magdalene, the whore of the story. Sihtric’s whore to be precise, that’s what some of the men had taken to sneering at you, and one even spat as you were readying your horse to ride to the Dane camp alongside Uhtred, “Sihtric’s whore.”

You hunkered down in the overgrowth amongst the men watching the Dane camp, heart hammering in your chest. You knew Sihtric was within the camp and you knew that there would be no hesitation to kill him from the group of men you lay beside. You had tried to convince yourself that you would be able to hurt him if it came to it, but you knew deep down you would rather run the blade through yourself than harm him. Even after it all. Even now.

It was Finan who had sat beside you last night, your eyes tired and face gaunt and he bumped your shoulder in his merry way before taking your hand in his. Sometimes you thought Finan was the only one who truly saw how much you were suffering Sihtric’s loss.

Truth be told he had been teasing Sihtric for months about you, any man would have to be blind to not see the way Sihtric looked at you. He was your shadow ever since the day you joined the group. Always by your side, always prepared to help you up or down from your horse. He never returned with a mug of ale for himself, without one for you too.He always strategically set your tent up closer to the fire, sneaking you more furs and food rations when he thought you weren’t looking.

Finan had been sure the Dane was smitten by you, and he watched your regard for the Dane grow by the day. You tended all his wounds with tender hands and you oftentimes braided his hair, humming softly to yourself as your hands worked gently through his soft curls. In the evenings of merriment, he would watch your body lean almost subconsciously towards Sihtric and your eyes, half-hooded, always seemed to be memorizing his face when he wasn’t looking at you.

“You know he’s going to be there,” he murmured softly and squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“I know,” you sniffed resolutely, “I’ve made my peace with it, and should the moment arise I am prepared.”

Finan squeezed your hand again once for good measure and left you with your mug of ale.

“Someone’s coming!” Finan shushed and a hush ran through your camp.

“It is Sihtric,” Osferth gasped and you felt your stomach drop to your toes.

“You have something to say to me boy?” Uhtred demanded and Sihtric approached further, steely determination across the features you knew so well.

“Yield to me,” he commanded and pressed his sword towards Uhtred’s chest, you were sprung like a coil ready to unleash if needed you watched Finan do the same. You were reminded of that night in the alehouse when you and Finan had acted in unison to try to prevent this.

You watched in horror as Uhtred and Sihtric erupted into laughter and moved to embrace each other, amidst Osferth’s joyful announcing that they had been playing you all.

“I fooled you,” Sihtric beamed to Finan who was almost stuttering in disbelief claiming to have known it was all a jest all along. Finan, Osferth and Sihtric took their turns embracing each other but you were rooted to the spot. You felt the world spinning like you were going to be sick and you pushed yourself through the men until you breached the last line and you were spilling your guts out onto the forest floor.

A pair of mismatched eyes searched the crowd for you, his face scrunching when he was unable to find you, and then turned his attention back to Uhtred as they formulated their plan for the night.

“You’ve never failed me Sihtric, I will see you at the tree,” you heard Uhtred utter proudly and then your legs gave way.

It was Finan who found you trembling at the back of the pack,“Good jaysus,” he mumbled before hoisting you up and patting you down before Uhted called him away. There would be time to sort this all out once this night had passed.

You followed through the long grass, fleeing to the ships following Sihtric’s lead. Uhtred had secured Skade and you were being pursued by Haeston’s Danes. You cut down any Dane who stood between you and the ship, jumping with ease and landing into strong arms that pulled you to the safety within, you punched at Sihtric's chest urging him to let go and were glad when he relented, turning instead to steady the men who were fleeing onboard. You pulled with all your might under Finan’s shouted orders, boring daggers into the back of the man you loved sitting in front of you.

Osferth was too weak too row and your arms were screaming with pain, having rowed through the night. The oars were beginning to blister your hands but you refused to give in.

Sihtric had tried to sneak glances over his shoulder at you but you refused to meet his eye. Instead turning all your anger and wasted worry into ensuring you kept rowing.

Your aching body was relieved to finally moor in Coccham, swatting Sihtric’s hand away as he attempted to help you from the boat.

“Please, y’n,” he muttered, trying to to meet your eye, but relented when you pushed by him, icy anger in your veins.

As you began the ride back to Winchester you were solemn. You had barely spoken a word to anyone and Finan regarded you with worry across his features.

“You could have told her,” Finan swiped at Sihtric, “Of all of us, you could have told her.”

“How could I?” Sihtric sighed, running a tired hand across his face.

“You didn’t see the way the men treated her for allowing you to escape.”

Sihtric froze, eyes wild, urging Finan to continue.

“They called her whore Sihtric. Your whore. They thought she had betrayed Uhted and she thought she had too. She barely ate or slept, and now you turn up and all is forgiven, But she has endured the brunt of yours and Uhtred’s decisions.”

Sihtric watched you ride wearily, he could see the defeat in the way you held yourself and he wanted nothing more than to take back all the hurt he had caused you, but he startled at the thought that you might not let him.

In Winchester you all settled in the alehouse, the lodgings above adequate enough for the rest you needed, You barely picked at the stew you were given and Finan took the spot beside you.

“Lady,” he sighed “You need to eat, come on, even just a few spoonfuls more.”

You shook your head and he grabbed the spoon, diving it into the food and bringing it up towards your mouth “Come ooon,” he urged “Look how delicious this is, open up that pretty mouth of yours and take a bite.” You couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped your lips when he all but shoved the spoon into your mouth and he quickly chased it with another.

“Finan, you are feeding me like a mother feeds a babe,” you giggled, the first time he had heard that sound in weeks.

“Well be and good babe, and take another bite, and I will stop mothering you.”

You swiped your spoon back and finished off the rest of your bowl.

“Happy, mother hen?” you teased and he wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Happy,” he conceded.

“Finan,” you sighed and he hummed and you scooted up in your seat to rest your body against his, taking the hint he wrapped his arms around you, placing his chin on your head, pulling you closer.

“You were the only one who stood by me. You stopped me from falling apart.”

“Nothing you haven’t done for me a thousand times over, love.” he all but whispered into your hair.

Someone clearing their throat pulled your attention away from Finan’s warmth and you were shocked to see a rather meek looking Sihtric standing at the table, a bunch of flowers in hand.

“Can I talk with you lady? Please?” he begged.

Finan gave you a reassuring tap and slid away from you.

“Outside?” he begged again.

And even though you didn’t want to, your feet were moving of their own accord.

You walked a little in silence together and eventually you realised you were going to have to make the first move.

“Sihtric, can you please just say whatever it is you wish to say to me, I am cold and I am tired.”

It was like he was burned into action, shrinking off his cloak and wrapping it around your shoulders before you could protest, and he all but pressed the flowers into your hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered gently “I am sorry for leaving you. For allowing all the blame to be placed upon your shoulders and I am sorry for demanding you choose between Uhtred and I.”

“Why did you do it?” you pleaded and he wanted to drop to his knees before you.

“I hoped..I hoped you would choose me. I would have confessed it all to you if you had come. But I understand why you could not.”

“They called me your whore Sihtric,” you cried, unable to stop the tears welling in your eyes, “And now you press these flowers into my hand and you say you are sorry but I have come to realise that maybe..maybe my regard for you is stronger than yours for me and I am no longer willing to be Sihtric’s whore.”

The name was especially unfair, when you considered you had never so much as pressed your lips to Sihtric’s, let alone lay with him.

“You are no whore,” Sihtric spat, sinking to his knees in front of you, “But I am a fool, that is true. A coward who should have told you long before this day that you are the light of my life. Ever since the day we met I have loved you and if you think I do not regard you in the highest form possible, you are wrong.”

You bit at your lip, allowing the tears to fall freely now.

“I have asked for Uhtred’s permission, and now I ask for yours, forget the name Sihtric’s whore and become Sihtric’s wife. Let me never leave you in doubt of my devotion to you again. Let me worship you. Let me be loyal to you. Let me fight for you. Let me love you.”

He moved closer to you on his knees, grasping your hips in his hands resting his head against your stomach “Let us raise pups who look like me but have all the best of you. Let me love you.” he repeated “Be my wife.”

“You hurt me, Sihtric.” you all but whimpered, but already your free hand was tracing the scar across his face tenderly all resolve melting.

“I hurt you this once my love and I will never, ever hurt you again. On Thor’s hammer,” he grasped at the pendant he wore around his neck and his two mismatched eyes bore up into your own.

“Be my wife.” he pleaded again.

“Sihtric’s wife,” you repeated and you were nodding furiously “Yes, yes Sihtric I will be your wife.”

He rose up furiously to crush his lips against yours, pulling you off your feet as he swung you around, the flowers falling from your grasp as you laughed through the tears.

“You are really mine?” you cried cupping his grinning face in your hands.

“From the moment I met you, I have been yours.”

Tagging: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @shamrockqueen @canyonmoon-2

#sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #sihtric x you

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sphynxratedr · 1 year

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I’m just thinkin thoughts okay. Lemme think my thoughts.

—

Steve feels /weird/ being affectionate

He’s not used to it..given his parents are never there and when they were they basically weren’t.

His girlfriends would enjoy the arm around their shoulder but push away when he’d go in for a cuddle.

Nancy was okay with more touched but once she started to think they were bullshit bullshit bullshit she pushed away too

And all Steve can think is that he was too much

So when he and Eddie start ,,, something

He makes sure he isn’t being too much. He lets Eddie initiate the touches, let’s Eddie start the kisses, the make outs. Let’s Eddie hold his hand.

He savoured those moments, copying them into memory. The feel of Eddies lips,his boney hands, his soft stomach. They all lasted a moment but Steve held onto what he could.

Eventually though, Eddie brings it up.

“Stevie?”

Steve was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast after Eddie slept over (again)

Steve hummed in reply

“Why..” Eddie started, biting his lip and playing with his hands. “Do you like when I touch you?”

Steve looked over to his..boyfriend? Boy-friend? Boy-more

“What?”

“Well yknow..you never really start anything with me” Eddie shrugged “is it..do you not wanna touch me?”

He whispered the last part, shoulders hunched up and arms wrapped around himself

“Ed’s no” Steve put down the spatula he was holding

“I just” he took a deep breath “I love touching you. I promise I do” he reached out and took one of eddies pinky’s into his hand

Not too much

“But see..when you do you barely even” eddie sighed pulling his hand away

“You haven’t done anything, I know you’re thinking that” steve grabbed his pinky again before going for his whole hand

“Im just..not used to affection. Yknow parents and all” he waved his free hand “and no one ever really liked when I would try to be affectionate..I was too affectionate. It probably scared people off, added to the bad boyfriend thing” he shrugged

Eddies eyebrows furrowed

“But you do like it? Touch?”

“Yes I like it..I love it. Makes me feel nice. Like you like me. I know you say it all the time and I know. But feeling it and knowing are different yknow? I like when you play with my hair or kiss my cheek. When you hug me from behind or grab my hand when you’re nervous”

Steve was blushing now, a pretty shade of pink

“And sometimes..well all the time. I wanna do it back to you. Make you feel like I like you too.. but I don’t ..want to be too much” Steve looked away

“Oh baby” Eddie frowned

“It’s okay”

“Don’t reassure me when you just said all that” Eddie huffed out a laugh

“Steve, touch is my love language. That’s why I’m doing all those things. I’m glad they make you feel like I like you because I do. I touch you because i like you. You can do the same, that’s why it’s a love language. I give it but I would also love to receive it” Eddie placed a hand onto Steve’s cheek

“You can touch me whenever you like stevie. There’s no rules to that..well given if we’re in public but you know that. You can kiss me whenever and hold my hand whenever and hug me whenever. I’m not gonna push you away”

Steve was blushing darker now, a shy smile on his face

“Are you sure?” He asked nervously, leaning further into eddies hand

“Yes baby love” Eddie smiled

After their talk, Steve tried to initiate touch more. It was difficult at first. His brain yelling him he was being too much, too needy. Caring too much

But every time steve would lean into Eddie, or kiss his hand or poke his side, Eddie would throw his arm around Steve’s shoulder. Point to his cheek or lips to get a proper kiss. He would open his arms wide and let Steve give him a full bear hug

Eventually Steve became more comfortable. Clinging onto eddies arm while Eddie talked to one of their friends on the sofa.

Laying on Eddies stomach as he read a book. He would giggle and nose at the older boys stomach as it rumbled randomly.

He would come up behind Eddie as he did the dishes or was looking at something on their dinner table and tug Eddie until he turned around and he would hug his around his middle, burying his face into his chest.

Steve would nuzzle his way into eddies arms while they were both facing each other in bed. He’d nose at eddies neck and leave soft kisses, turned bruises onto the skin.

And Eddie would let him, he would stretch out his neck and give him more access. Hold him tight and kiss his head as he buried himself into his chest. Play with his hair as he laid on his stomach. Hold onto Steve’s hand as he latched onto his entire arm.

He made sure Steve knew he welcomed his touch, craved his touch.

Made sure he knew he was never too much.

#eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #eddie the freak munson #steve the hair harrington #gay eddie munson #bi steve harrington #I just love they #so much #too much

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mxboxlocks · 6 months

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PRIVATE DOMINATION/DOMINATED LINES!

i think i've posted them before, but this is my tf2 self-insert, the Private! they work under Soldier as an apprentice and mostly sticks by him through a lot of missions. i took a bit of time brainstorming their dom lines to get a feel for their personality and i think i did a pretty good job! so here you are!

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

dominating scout "You run circles, I run miles, twerp!" "St-eee-rike! You're out!" "And that's what we do to spineless boys around my turf, slick. This is MEN'S territory!" "You're gonna need bandages for a lot more than your hands after that one." "DOMINATED, ya whiney little brat!" "I just knocked your ass out the ballpark!"

dominated by scout "Are you- Are you always this stupid? Cuz that was embarrassin'." "Dominated, bootlicker!" "You oughta get discharged, cuz there's no comin' back from that." "Y'know you take after your boss a lot; you're both easy to shoot, and you're both dumb as dirt!" "(laughter) Oh man! Wait'll I tell Soldier he's raisin' a HIPPIE!"

dominating soldier "Looks like THIS Private just moved up in rank!" "I'm taking your title, old man! Trial by combat!" "Land of the free, home of this boot I just shoved up your ass, Sarge!" "They should give me a medal for how hard I'm kicking your ass." "Saludos desde México, GRINGO! (Greetings from Mexico, FOREIGNER!)"

dominated by soldier "I don't wanna see your nose out of that dirt until your arms are about to fall off! IS! THAT! CLEAR?!" "Have you learned NOTHING, son?!" "DOMINATED! You are a disappointment! You are a coward!" "DOMINATED, you spineless hippie!" "Ohh, get up, it's only a scratch. UP, I SAID!" "DOMINATED! DISCHARGED! DEEEECEASED!"

dominating pyro "I got a waterhose back home with your name on it, Gas." "You're in hot water, ain'tchu?" "Holy mole, that's gotta burn!" (mole is a kind of Mexican spicy sauce) "Flail that 'thrower all you want, you can't burn a phoenix! CAWWW!" "DOMINATED, Pinkie Pie!" "You just got SMOKED!"

dominating heavy "Need an ice pack for that? Don't worry, we can bury you in the snow." "Your big gun doesn't scare me, Stallingrad!" "I never quit, I wanted your head! And so I shotcha til you were dead!" (reference to the song Rasputin by Boney M.) "Take that domination where the sun don't shine, lover-of-the-Russian-queen!" (another Rasputin reference) "Tell Dr. Boytoy he's gonna need to do a lot of work to get those bullets out of ya!"

dominated by heavy "DOMINATED. Now be quiet." "Dominated! You do not live up to your title." "Mm. You need more training." "Private is not disciplined! (singsong) Oh, Soldier!" "Stay down, little man. I do not enjoy killing babies."

dominating demo "Gotcha that time, Cap'n Loch Ness!" "Those bombs of yours ain't really all that useful when you can't keep your eye on 'em, are they?" "Didn't see me comin' did ya?" "Oof, you're gonna need more than a drink for that." "You just LOVE my bullets, don'tcha Cyclops? CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!"

dominated by demo "TELL YOUR SORRY EXCUSE FOR A LEADER THAT I'M COMIN' FOR HIM NEXT!" "A fine sendoff for a boot-lickin' bib-wearin' git!" "For your sake, laddie, I'll tell your ma you died doin' what you loved; gettin' your BLOODY ARSE handed to you!"

dominating engineer "You ever thought about buildin' a bulletproof vest?" "Not very intuitive design when your own sentry can shoot at you too, y'know." (rare) "Dominated! Tell Beecave I said best wishes!" "Twelve pHDs and for what?! Try a tour in the army, Quickdraw!" "They don't teach fightin' like that in IT, do they?" "Tend to your farm and mind your own damn business!" "DOMINATED, Marty Robins!"

dominated by engineer "You're not much smarter than yer mentor, are ya? Hell, y'all might be related." "Dominated. Tell Houston I said they can go to hell!" "Take your humid ass air back down to the coast, damn it!" "Not in my damn base, ya don't."

dominating sniper "You piss in jars and you keep 'em. I don't need to embarrass you any more." "Dominated, Heeler!" (vague reference to Bluey) "Aren't Australians supposed to be the best fighters in the world?! C'MON!" "I got you in my sights. Wanker."

dominated by sniper "(sotto voice) Gotcha, trench rat." "Gotcha, trench rat!" "(sotto voice) Another bloody moron crossed off my list." "Another bloody moron crossed off my list!" "You think wearin' a uniform makes you special, punk?!" "(sotto voice) They got cages in hell for people like you, grunt." "They got cages in hell for people like you, grunt!"

dominating medic "Someone call the waah-mbulence!" "And for your death certificate, that'll be 200,000 dollars! Name of insurance?" "What's this? A DNR? Baaad news, other team, the doctor is OUT!" "Dominated, pillskirt!" "Dominated, psych ward!" "DOMINATED, Frankenstein!"

dominated by medic "I would use your body for science, but it's so full of sugar and plastic I think I'd be better off robbing a grave!" "Ooh! That limb looks infected. I'll have to take it off." "You never SAW me coming, did you, fraulien?!" "Ha-ha-hah! Your blood, it gives me youth!" "Shut up and let me do my job!"

dominating spy "You sorry sacks of scum are USELESS to your teammates!" "Ooo, a ghost?! So spooooky!" "Need a cig, baguette?" "That's what you get you little weasel!" "Buy me a drink later and we'll call it even." "Eat that, white flag!"

dominated by spy "If your spatial awareness were as large as your ego, you'd have caught that!" "Now to torture the information out of you - or is that too much to handle?" "A knife in the back, like a kiss, au revoir." "I've met politicians with more conviction than you!" "Dominated! Now go back to your play-pen!" "Dominated, you scraggly ill-kempt mutt!"

#for clarity soldier and private are NOT related the team just likes to make fun of them for having a father/son relationship #tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 fanart #tf2 soldier #tf2 engineer #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 mercs #tf2 oc #tf2 private

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januaryembrs · 5 months

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

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

Word count: 10.8k

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

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

main masterlist | series masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It took everything in her to listen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just who they were.

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

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

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

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

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

Steven.

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

Steven.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She needed all of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then there was Mikey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had been her birthday two weeks ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

for a good night, simply follow the yellow brick road

-frank osbourne

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was embarrassed at how fast she pocketed his number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Marc. They were the only two to understand.

She nodded silently, unwilling to meet his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She felt the life suck out of her stomache.

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

Liar. They whispered. Liar, liar, liar.

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

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

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

She needed to tell him.

But instead she said;

“Never, Steven,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A camel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was no place like home.

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KNIGHT IN SOHO TAGLIST

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

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mara-xx217 · 11 months

Note

Oohhhhh dear lord listen listen I will worship the very ground you walk on if you write something yandere and/or dubcon with Demogorgon

Totally ok if no tho ilysm❤️

Sweet Jesus I FINALLY have an excuse to use the idea my partner has been pestering me to use since I first wrote Monsters’ Favourite! It’s gonna be spicy sooo…

Warnings: Noncon, Hunting, Alien Biology, Freaky Alien Genitals, Deep Throating, Oral, Knotting

Running into an abandoned house was among the worst decisions that you could have made during this chase. You got turned around in your panic and ended up tripping over a raised floorboard, falling face first into a corner that was filled with junk.

FUCK FUCK FUCK-!!!

There was nowhere left to run. You shot to your feet but it was already too late. The Demogorgon had you boxed in. Your heartbeat screamed in your ears as you struggled to breathe. It was already at your back. You could feel its hot breath on your neck and your shoulders.

Why did it have to be you?! You didn't even do anything to piss it off! The Demogorgon absolutely demolished your friends, tearing them limb from limb in front your very eyes before it set itself upon you. Your entire body trembled as you braced for the inevitable. It was going to be painful and messy... You closed your eyes and waited for those petal shaped jaws to wrap around your head-

"UGH-!"

A long, slimy tongue flicked against your ear. You instantly cringed away, raising your shoulders as you cried out in surprise. You couldn't escape from the invasive tongue- there was nowhere for you to go now... What was it doing?! Taste testing you before it devoured you?! It growled behind you, low and bassy and something that vibrated the organs in your chest and something behind your eyes. Shit. Shit, shit, shit- SHIT! You held your breath and prepared for the worst, but absolutely nothing could have prepared you for what was to come.

It's thick, curved claws sliced into your arms but instead of ripping a strip of flesh off of you, the Demogorgon yanked you backwards so hard that you fell flat on your back. Before the shock of such a sudden motion could even set in your stomach dropped.

The center of the Demogorgon's flower-like head had buried itself in the valley of your crotch. You were left stunned, unable to react as the monster sniffed that area with the vigor of a dog that knew no boundaries and no manners. As you came to your senses, you felt the curl of the Demogorgon's face flaps take hold of the fabric of your jeans. And your underwear-!

"N-No! S-Stop! Stop it! I SAID FUCKING STOP!"

You punched it in the ribs and in the gut but it didn't react in the slightest. The Demogorgon had placed a tight grip onto your legs, preventing you from kicking or scrambling away as it tore a massive hole in the crotch of both your pants and your underwear. Panic turned into hysterics as your voice raised in pitch and loudness.

"W-WHAT THE FU- UGH?!"

A long, thick, wet stripe was licked along the length of your sex. What the fuuuu-?! Is this really happening right now?! You vainly scratched and pulled at the boney fingers that held you down. A flash of white hot embarrassment and disgust pooled in your gut and settled between your thighs. Your hips arched involuntarily into the Demogorgon's repetitive tongue lashings as a strangled moan escaped from the back of your throat. Your eyes squeezed shut as you struggled to regain some of your senses but it was no use.

It felt fucking good.

Its tongue seemed to have a mind of its own. It was like it knew every little trick to get you to squirm and gasp. It rolled against you, squirming and writhing and applying pressure in juuust the right places to have your mouth hanging agape and your guard lowered. The feeling of that thick tongue teasingly dipping into your entrance had your back arching and you throwing your head back in ecstasy. You had pretty much given up the fight to free yourself and instead clutched onto the Demogorgon's long fingers as your body began to shake. Being as distracted as you were, it was more than a little surprising to feel something long, thick and hot suddenly slip onto your face and start squirming around like crazy. Your eyes snapped open and your stomach dropped and your core began to ache.

Oh GOD that's a BIG fucking dick-!!

It was purplish grey in colour and had a slick yet textured feeling all along its length. You couldn't see its head but you could feel it touching your jawline, worming its way around your face with something that felt similar in shape and function to the Demogorgon's actually head. The entire organ was prehensile, able to move with the same amount of accuracy and precision that its tongue had.

It won't- You seriously aren't going to put that thing in your mouth, are you?!

....are you?

The struggle you put up was halfhearted. It wasn't like you wanted to get this thing off but at the same time you didn't really have a lot of options to work with at the moment. You didn't open your mouth but you also didn't try that hard to keep that freakishly dexterous dick from prying your lips apart and slithering into your only partially closed mouth.

It did not taste good yet you couldn't quite place the reason why. It had a musky, sweaty almost earthy-but-not-quite taste that had you salivating and gagging before it had even slipped all the way into your mouth. You had to screw your eyes shut and focus solely on breathing as it's cock slid all the way to the back of your throat in one fluid thrust. But the Demogorgon wasn't moving its hips at all, no, its dick somehow just moved all on its own like it was a separate entity or something!

It was nearly impossible to breathe at all. As the Demogorgon's member crammed itself down your throat its tongue continued to assault you in between your legs. Oooohhh God- You don't know why you bothered, but you tried to push its hips back. As if that would help right now. You just needed a little bit of room so you could breathe! The Demogorgon didn't relent and you started to feel lightheaded and panicked from the lack of air your lungs were receiving.

Are you seriously going to die from getting throat fucked?

Cumming had you seeing stars and unintentionally sucking on the Demogorgon's cock. A strangled gargling noise sounded from your throat. It felt like you were drowning on your own saliva and the monster's precum that had gathered in your throat. Your hips bucked against your will and your legs were kicking wildly as you really couldn't fucking breathe anymore!

Somehow it felt like everything was getting tighter and tighter in your mouth. Your tongue was flat against the back of your teeth and you could feel the monstrous cock pressing against muscles of your throat. You managed to knee the Demogorgon in the side of the head but it didn't react. You punched it in the side, dug your fingers into its ribs and still the creature didn't react to you in the slightest. You're actually going to die. You're going to die from sucking dick and receiving oral from a literally fucking monster.

Your jaw was stretched painfully wide, until you were sure something had popped and shifted in a way it was never supposed to. You were shocked when you felt something thick and hot streaming down your gullet. It filled your stomach enough that you felt physically bloated. Did- Did it just fucking cum?! Trying to breathe at all was a mistake. Something filled your sinuses and it shot out of your nose with startling force. All the while, the Demogorgon was still tongue fucking you with the same vigor and determination as when it first began.

No. No No- No you're fucking done! You tried to pull away but- You couldn't? You couldn't pull away at all! It was like it was... was stuck inside of you!? Oh GOD-!

You would have to wait for the swelling to go down... Whenever that would be... The Demogorgon certainly wasn't in any rush though. It had you exactly where it wanted you and it's not like you had a chance to get away, knotting or not.

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine

#dead by daylight #dbd #demogorgon #demogorgon x reader #ask response #tw non con #tw knotting #I'm not to blame for this one folks lol

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pokeheadcannons97 · 11 months

Note

Hello! May I please request a Piers x reader cuddle HC? I saw that you had written some for other characters and I really love the way you write for Piers!

pairing: Piers x GN!Reader

content - {Cuddle Headcannons with Piers from Pokemon Sword/Pokemon Shield}

[genre] - fluff, pure fluff

[warnings] none

words: 295

Despite how awkward this former gym leader can be, he really does like to cuddle and be close to his significant other.

He's pretty boney and has cold fingers and toes, so watch out. Your warmth at those places can get zapped away faster than a Dewgong using ice beam.

He's an absolute menace in the winter time, but come summer it's pleasant despite the heat.

And speaking of the former dreaded season, despite him being cold as ice, his gang of Zigzagoons, and his Obstagoon bring in enough heat to the cuddle pile.

There is no escape and you will be warm.

He hums often when he's content, you can sometimes pinpoint the specific tune to songs from his group, and other times is improv.

His hair is wild and the two of you have to go through a routine of making sure his hair is free of tangles, and conditioned to where it wont get that way.

He finds that part very relaxing.

He absolutely waits patiently for you to rake your fingertips across his scalp and give it a firm scratch, it makes his eyelids droop so easily it's almost embarrassing.

He likes to sleep in and while tangle himself with his limbs to keep you from leaving the soft, warm bed the two of you share. Complaining how gross it was outside and how comfy it was right here and why you should stay.

Sometimes it works too well, much to your chagrin.

He switches the positions when cuddling, but he defaults to the little spoon. His hair makes a very nice pillow.

Really likes when you wrap your arms around his torso and pull him flush against you in the middle of the night when you notice he's farther away.

#pokemon x reader #piers #pokemon piers x reader #pokemon swsh

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spiltscribbles · 6 months

Text

THE ONE WITH THE SOULMATE | WOLFSTAR FIC

Author's Notes: A reblog is like a butterfly kiss, and letting me know what you think is like a hundred hugs all at once.

“You are seriously insatiable tonight,” Remus rebukes, swatting Sirius’s hand away from where he was eagerly grabbing at his arse for another round of fun, positively delicious, bloody remarkable, mind-blowing fun. God Sirius thanks every deity above that he fell in love with such a secretive, little wildcat.

“Oi, wasn’t the whole purpose of this getting married shtick so we could do that whenever we please?” Sirius harrumphs, flopping back on their bed, starfished out as he watches his ridiculously beautiful husband dropping his towel to the floor and digging through their shared drawer for a new pair of pants. He really tries his damndest to not focus on how the dying evening light filters through their room’s open window, bathing Remus in this resplendent, almost heavenly glow, turning the tips of his eyelashes as golden as his hair and caressing the dips and valleys of his lithe muscles, accentuating the smattering of freckles on his thighs and the dimples he’s got on the small of his back. God Sirius can’t take his eyes off of him for even a moment. “Because if not I reckon I can sue for false advertising.”

Remus only sniffs at him, affecting a lofty air as he pulls on the green, turtle net sweater that Sirius especially likes on him for how it brings out the amber flecks in Remus’s emerald eyes and how it hugs his physique in the exact right breath to show off how bloody good looking he is. “We did that right when you came home from the firm, and then again in the shower less than five minutes ago. Don’t tell me it was that forgettable?” He asks with a pointed hiking of the brow.

“Never my lovely little croissant,” Sirius contends hurriedly, popping up from his lounging position to snatch for Remus’s boney wrists, and dragging the shorter man down to sit in his still very naked lap. “You are the best shag and handsomest fellow and—“ Remus claps his hand over Sirius’s mouth, probably trying to come off stern, but Sirius could totally catch the way the corner of his lips begin to flinch upwards— he’s endeared and Sirius knows it.

“Enough of that bollocks, else I’ll get a cavity.”

“But my beautiful crumpet, I want to sing your praises,” Sirius pouts mockingly, kisses the tip of his nose, while one of his well built arms slings around Remus’s slender waste, with his free hand slowly crawling up his inner thigh, thwarted nearly immediately by Remus standing up in a huff.

“Like a bloody mutt.” He scolds.

“Only for you my delightfully delectable cabbage,” Sirius leers, finally standing up and taking the proffered slacks so to get ready for this little soiree Lily’s law firm is holding for their fiftieth anniversary.

“When do you reckon these awful nicknames will drop off?”

“You’re the one who said you like it when I speak French at you,” Sirius goads, smacking Remus’s pert arse as he struts into their master-bath.

“Oi, when it’s spoken in the ruddy language, and not some awful accent you’ve conjured up.” Remus counters moodily before he grabs for one of the colognes on their vanity, and Sirius only smiles privately to himself, so beyond besotted with him that it’s getting detrimental for his health, exhibit A being how he very nearly squirts his aftershave right into his eyes.

But God Remus is so worth it.

The ballroom of the swanky, Mayfair hotel is dressed up in all the opulence that should be expected for a soiree made up of the throng of stuffy, stuck up solicitors that are present. Sirius is not impressed in the slightest, even if he can work the room for one of these parties as effortlessly as breathing thanks to his upbringing as the son of a Lorde and Countess; though he still hates the ambiance of it all, so much so that it makes his skin crawl to this day, but he promised to be here and at least Remus is right besides him, with Sirius’s hand in his back pocket and hazel eyes flickering to him every few minutes or so, as if attuned to Sirius and all his mercurial moods.

God he loves him.

“Alice and I have been shagging non stop,” Frank says, which works well enough to bring Sirius’s attention away from wanting to drag Remus behind the champaign fountain so to have his wicked way with him, and back to the conversation they’re all having; even if that means that instead of looking passive, Sirius is sneering over at Frank.

“Dacorum man.”

Frank apologizes, beyond glum. “We just don’t know what to do. The doctors say that we shouldn’t have this much difficulty with it, but we just checked before coming and still, nothing.”

“I’m sorry mate, that’s awful.” Remus tells him, and Dorcas nods along, but Sirius just rolls his eyes.

“We’re not even thirty yet for fuck’s sake,” he tells him. “Maybe ’s a sign for you both to stop trying to ruin your lives with a baby.”

“Shut it Sirius,” Dorcas hisses, kicking at his ankle hard enough to make him wince.

“Ouch, hey! I’m just saying, a kid’s a lot of responsibility, and commitment.”

“I’ve been with Alice since we were seventeen Black,” Frank tells him hotly . “I think I’m already properly committed.”

“Then what’s the point of the kid!”

Frank raises his brows, floundering with no words as if he just could not comprehend Sirius and all his Sirius-ness, which is fair, the only two people who’s been able to do as much turned out being his brother, (James), and his lover, (Remus)… Speaking of which…

“I’m sorry he’s acting like such an arse Frank, he doesn’t mean it.” the sandy blonde says cooly, giving Sirius one of his looks that he usually keeps designated for his more rowdy students. “Do you.”

Sirius glares at him before looking back at Frank and nodding stiffly. “Sorry mate, you and Flores would be marvelous parents, I’m just being prickish.”

“Nothing knew then,” Frank says, but it’s coupled with an amiable grin so Sirius knows he’s off the hook.

“Right, well why don’t I make it up to you by grabbing you a drink? Yeah?”

“See if they’ve got an iced white?”

“Me too Black,” Dorcas scoffs, doesn’t even bother to look at him to make the command.

“Righto,” Sirius claps Frank’s shoulder with a friendly squeeze, winking at Dorcas and glancing over at Remus before he goes. “Vodka tonic?”

“With lemon please.”

Sirius nods, still pecks him on the lips even if they’re sorta in a fight, as if Sirius could ever stay away for too long.

By the grace of God, the open bar is mostly vacant, except for a familiar head of messy hair he’s considered family for over half his life.

“All right Prongs?”

James pivots around, drinks already in hand and grinning at the sight of him. “Wow, didn’t even recognize you for a tick there Pads, you don’t even have your hand plastered to Moony’s bum!.”

Sirius smirks, tossing him a covert two finger salute as he saddles up besides him and orders the round of drinks. “What can I say Prongsy, the cheeky bugger made me vow to have it there constantly, can’t just jilt my bloke like that, can I?”

James grimaces with a roll of the eyes, and Sirius’s far accustomed to that look of exasperation from him by now. “You’re a mutt.”

“Would you believe you aren’t the first person to say that to me within the last hour?”

“God save our poor Moony.”

“Oh God doesn’t have to worry, I’m taking care of him just fine.”

“Are you being gross about my best friend,” Lily asks as she struts up towards them, looking like an absolute diamond, even if her nose is wrinkled indelicately.

“Aren’t I always in your opinion?” Sirius asks cheekily, trying to balance the four drinks in his grasp before she just rolls her eyes and grabs the flutes of wine for Frank and Dorcas.

“Your impossible prat-ness aside, I actually think you being all grossly territorial over Remus tonight is actually a good thing.”

“THat’s a first,” James says, but Sirius can only glare, suspicious.

“Why’s that? Oi! Don’t tell me that absolute plonker Dearborn is here!”

“Oh God no,” Lily startles, shaking her head as if the thought was too insane to even fathom. “’S just the firm’s just hired this new bloke and I’m really quite positive that he’s Rem’s soulmate.”

“Lily! Don’t say that!” James balks, glancing over at Sirius worriedly, but he in turn only laughs at the magnitude of the statement.

“Jesus, Evans, didn’t think you believed in that ridiculous shite?”

“’S not ridiculous Sirius! And yeah, ‘course I do, like James and I are definitely soulmates.” She twists slightly so to kiss the curve of James’s jaw, making him go a bit blotchy. Poor git’s wrapped around her littlest finger.

“And what? You reckon Remus and I are just here to kill some time?”

“No, don’t be a pillock,” Lily reproves. “’s just he’s his soulmate is all.”

Okay, Sirius’s amusement has officially given way to irritation, and he twists his head so to scowl down at her as they make their way to the others. “Alright Evans, explain yourself then, yeah? Tell me how he’s Moony’s supposed soulmate.

“Well he’s French.”

“I speak French.”

“He’s got amazing, blonde hair.”

“I’ve got amazing, black hair.”

“He majored in literature just like Remus.” Lily says airily, knowing that Sirius can’t match that being an architect himself.

“Well— I read all that snotty shite Remus asks me too.” He huffs, and Lily answers with a shrug to her delicate shoulders.

“Fine then, I’m wrong. You’ve got nothing to worry bout.”

She struts off to their little lump of friends as if to cut the conversation off completely, and Sirius is perfectly find with that. She’s acting off her bloody rocker. But, if Sirius stands closer to Remus than usual for the rest of the night, or if he ends up kissing his temple whenever he feels like someone is watching them, or if he glares at one of the blokes working catering after deigning to offer Remus an empanada— Well that’s Sirius’s business and his alone. He’s not intimidated by this soulmate shite, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he’s trying to stave off the bastard or something. He does all of that simply because Remus is his husband now, and he loves getting to show that off to all onlookers, even the ones who may or may not be Remus’s soulmate.

“We’ve got dinner with Reggie and his latest girlfriend tonight,” Remus tells Sirius the following Tuesday, tossing the scarf his mother had gifted him last Christmas— with a matching one for Sirius— over his shoulder as they stroll around to the front of the Three Broomsticks for their morning coffees, hands linked and the early winter snow catching in both sets of their lashes.

And God does Sirius love the sound of that, of their schedules overlapping, becoming one almost. Loves the idea that where ever one goes the other follows. Sirius knows that they’ve both have their demons, from Sirius’s neglect and emotional abuse as a child— occasionally sprinkled with a good smack or two if his mother was particularly fuming. To Remus’s complex of never feeling like he can ever be enough, and the way Lyall had acted for years after Remus had come out to his parents as gay, coupled with his multiple hospital visits as a lad until they finally figured out his lupus diagnosis. But they’re better, so much fucking better now. Plenty of the credit going to the remarkable group of friends whom they’ve picked up along the way, but another huge chunk was finding one another, and Sirius knows it in his bones. Knows that there couldn’t be anyone else for him, and sure he knows Remus sometimes deserves more, deserves better— But he’s chosen him, he’s chosen Sirius. He loves Sirius. And it’s remarkable and unbelievable and amazing, and Sirius holds onto the sensation of it with hungry piety.

“Love? Did you hear that?”

Sirius jolts back to the moment, and smiles softly down at him, kissing the corner of Remus’s mouth in penance. “Yes, of course gorgeous. I didn’t forget, I’ll be home early and maybe we can have a lie down before leaving if you’ve finished grading those papers?”

Remus’s laugh right then is like the most splendid instrument Sirius has ever heard, light and magical and warm as a bonfire. “Try to be good and maybe.” He tells him with a cold fingered tapping of his nose before he flounces off to the main counter to order for them.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stares after him instead of grabbing the gang’s typical seats up front, but is startled when he hear’s a choked out noise coming from behind him and sees Lily, panic faced and eyes wandering frantically.

“Oi, what’s squirming up your arse Evans.” He asks her suspiciously, thick brows furrowed.

“I didn’t know you guys would be here,” she explains so quickly that her words begin to crash into one another. “Oh bloody hell, the one time I have a late start!”

She stomps her foot and Sirius shoots her a fully fledged glower. “What is making you so damn barmy for Christ’s sake.”

Lily parts her lips, but no noise comes out, because right then someone follows her indoors, a very familiar someone if only based off of descriptions. A very tall, very blonde, very smiley looking someone.

Sirius hates him right on sight.

“I’m sorry I took so long at that shop Lily, my mother loves these, how do you say, snow globes?” The stranger says, shaking one for emphasis with Big Ben set in the center.

“Ridiculous tourist trinkets is more like it,” Sirius practically snarls, which earns him a confused look by the blonde and a tired one by Lily.

“Right then, well Sirius this’s Thomas Martin, Thomas this is Sirius Black.”

“Lupin-Black now, ta Lils.”

“Oh,” Thomas says, blue eyes blinking wearily. “Nice to meet you, ah, Sirius.” He extends his hand, and when Sirius shakes it he makes sure to feel the bloke’s bones crushing together, just so he understands who exactly he’s speaking with.

The French arse eventually pulls away, pinning Sirius with a one eyed squint as he curls and stretches his fingers.

“Oh God,” Lily groans, leading them to their spot and depositing herself onto the sofa with absolute exasperation, and Sirius only continues to glare at Thomas as he sits besides her, growing stiffer once Remus returns.

“Oh, hiya Lils,” he smiles, handing Sirius his drink before flickering his gaze to the fucking Frenchman.

“‘lo love, this’s the newest hire at the firm, Thomas. Thomas, this’s my best mate, Remus.” She introduces quickly, the fucking trader.

“Remus?” Thomas asks, dimpling down at Sirius’s fucking husband with bright eyes. And Sirius has to curl his fists so not to punch him right in the sodding face, only growing angrier when Remus chuckles and ducks his head, like he was nervous by him! Like he thought he was in fact very good looking and very charming and his damn soulmate.

“Yeah, blame that on my mum, she was big into the classics.”

Thomas’s grin widens even more and Sirius feels the pulse on his neck beginning to throb. “No, it’s very charming. My Grandfather was very, erm, focussed on those studies as well? Begged my parents to name me Enkidu. They thankfully refused.”

Remus laughs fully now, and Sirius wants to a punch a wall. It took him literal months to make Remus laugh like that— genuine and glimmering and gorgeous. “Lucky bloke. Though I do have to admit that Gilgamesh is a favorite of mine, I think I’ve read the epic twenty times over.”

“Oh mine too,” the fucking Frenchman says, stepping closer to Remus and now in front of Sirius fully, gambling bravely that Sirius wouldn’t try to cap him right here. “If you ask me however, I do believe that he and Enkidu are more than just, friends.” His eyes flicker down to Remus’s lips for a split second and when he looks back up his face is positively leering.

Sirius sees red.

“God, so nice to finally talk to someone who gets it, the professors I work under are usually so painfully heteronormative that it’s crippling.” Remus tells him, smiling kindly.

“Oh, I’m the furthest away from that, I assure you.”

He winks! He fucking winks! Sirius swears to God! He sees the bastard winking at his husband! His fucking husband! What the bloody hell does he think that platinum band on Remus’s finger matching Sirius’s own is suppose to represent! Holy shit!

“I’d love to read anything you have on the subject, most things translated to French are a bit clunky.”

He’s trying to ask him out! Right here! Right in front of Sirius! Sirius is going to strangle his snail swallowing neck! Thankfully, Lily must sense his inner turmoil because she interjects their conversation right then, asking Thomas to grab her a jasmine tea.

“Oh yes of course,” he nods congenially, rounding back on Remus before he leaves. “Would you like a pastry? On me.”

Is he trying to ask Remus to eat it off of him? What the hell! It took nearly a year of them fucking for Sirius to get Remus to bring food in the bedroom, to get to watch Remus lick the chocolate syrup off his cock. And what? Does he think he’s even got a chance so quickly!

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Remus grins and a part of Sirius dies on the inside. “But I’ll come tag along, yeah? I love talking about this stuff and Sirius absolutely hates this ancient rubbish.”

“I do not! I think these dead blokes are very interesting,” he harrumphs, heated, with pouting lips and crossed arms. But Remus only tosses back his head with uninhibited laughter in response, which makes the fucking Frenchman beam that bit brighter.

“After you,” he says with a swish of the hand.

Sirius is going to be tried for murder, and he’s not even sorry about it.

“’s okay love,” Lily reassures him, patting his head dotingly. “We’ll find you someone new.”

“I hate you Evans!”

“Don’t blame the messenger!”

Sirius is about to tell her just how much he does exactly that, but then he catches on the fucking Frenchman putting his hand over Remus’s to prevent him from sliding over his card and all the fight leaves him in an instant.

Sirius ended up not even going to the on sight location for the latest project he’s heading at the firm. He instead spent the bulk of the morning and part of the afternoon grinding his teeth as Remus spoke and barbed and giggled with the fucking Frenchman, like he was enjoying himself. And it was torture, watching the way they naturally clicked and got on— Literal fucking torture.

Sirius is still fuming as they sit in front of his younger brother and his newest bird, a pretty girl named Amal, who’s just graduated from a posh, fashion institute in the north of France. And Christ it’s like he’s being bombarded with the idea of that country all day.

“God that must’ve been such a wonderful experience,” Remus says, smiling as she leans forwards with a grin, speaking louder over the chatter of the busy sushi joint they had all agreed upon.

“Oh yes, the cuisine was simply unmatched, even if I did end up missing London, being home and all. Though I’m afraid my French is seriously dwindling compared to my English and Arabic now.”

“You should ask Reggie to practice with you, I know I love it when Sirius speaks the language.” He winks right then, making Amal crow with laughter and Regulus roll his eyes fondly. But Sirius stays peeved off with his hinged jaw, absolutely seething.

“Bet my hopeless brother recites poetry to you and everything, rose in his mouth and all.”

Remus laughs and Sirius suddenly has the horrid image of the fucking Frenchman doing as much outside the window to their bedroom, and is furious all over again.

“Well Reggie, Remus here does fancy all things French, foods and wines and blokes and just the whole lot.”

“Well good, we have something in common,” Amal snickers, lacing her hand through Regulus’s own over the tabletop. Sirius and Remus haven’t held hands since the waitress brought out their drinks, and remembering as much makes Sirius take a swig of his ail, hating everything.

“Yes well, you can say it’s Remus’s soulmate, France I mean.” He says, words beginning to slur. “He’s meant for French food and wines and blokes, innit true love? You’d prefer a French bloke?”

Amal frowns and Regulus pins him with a one eyed squint, befuddled. But Sirius only gathers his wits about him when Remus clammers noisily out his chair and tugs on his arm to follow suit.

“Reg order us the specials yeah? And a round of spring rolls,” he instructs, words clipped, and a small dent peeking out between his brows, like it does when he’s especially annoyed. “C’mon Sirius we need to talk.”

“But that’d be awfully rude,” Sirius retorts, already hates the flat, fuming tone Remus is speaking with, and feels good and properly nervous for the impending argument.

“They have one another, ’s fine. Now let’s go.”

Sirius concedes and pretends it doesn’t feel like he’s being lead to the gallows.

“All right prick,” Remus huffs, rounding on Sirius right after he locks the door to the single user loo. “What has gotten you in such a bloody awful mood.”

Sirius sniffs, arms crossed against his chest and his head tilted imperiously. “I’m peachy.”

“You’ve been acting like an arse ever since we had coffee with Lily,” Remus counters, reproving.

“Actually love, if you didn’t notice, Lily left about halfway through you and the blonde’s little clucking session.”

Remus furrows his brows now, pillowy lips pinched and looking lost as hell. “You’re angry because Lily left for work?”

“Oh for bloody hell Remus!” Sirius erupts, tossing his arms in the air. “I’m angry because you met your ruddy soulmate and now you’re going to ride off into the sunset with’m and read French poetry together while eating cheese and bread and talking about highbrow shit like Aeneid!”

Remus startles backwards, long lashes flapping and mouth gaped open. “Oh Christ, you’ve gone absolutely barmy. You’re mad.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I feel like I should call someone about my husband going bloody mental.”

“I repeat. Not. Helping.”

“What in hell has convinced you that this random bloke is my soulmate?” Remus asks, back to being patient as ever.

“Lily!” Sirius shouts. “She told me that you and the fucking Frenchman are soulmates! And she’s right okay! She’s bloody spot on.”

Remus rolls back his entire head now, groaning out, “You are such an idiot.”

“Real nice Moons,” Sirius frowns, doesn’t even know how to feel now, the anger seeping out of him the longer he’s standing besides Remus, leaving an awful, clawing abandonment in its wake.

“Did you ever once think to ask me what I think of the damn concept of soulmates? Hmm?” He asks, single brow hiked with pure condescension.

And oh.

Sirius is stuck for a minute there, doesn’t see an out to the question. “Well…. Erm—“

“Well if you had asked, like a normal sodding bloke! I wold’ve told you that I married you because I know your my soulmate you arse! And it isn’t because of some ridiculous notion of stardust or providence or whatever else. It’s because we grew together, and we fight for one another, and even when you’re being a complete prick or we’re arguing like mad you’re the only one I want. Only person I can ever see myself with, the only person I want to try this hard for. The only fucking person I ever want to call my husband! My partner! lover!”

“Oh.” Sirius breathes out, all his fears being strangled by the conviction embedded into Remus’s words.

And it’s like all of Sirius’s insides melt, like all the adoration and love and reverence he holds for Remus is pooling in his stomach and threatening to pour out his every orifice. And God he can’t even inhale, only scrambles to lock his hands around Remus’s cheeks and press his head against Remus’s own.

“Yeah? You really think that.”

“Hell, I thought the wedding and all would’ve made that clear.”

Sirius chuckles, only lightly, his thumb dragging beneath Remus’s eye tenderly. “God I love you, so endlessly. Please forgive me for being an idiot?”

“Yeah, I suppose I’ll keep you around,” Remus teases, bouncing on the balls of his feet to kiss Sirius’s nose and lock his arms around his neck, and the sensation of it— them knotted into one another— could never be replicated in a thousand years, not like this, not like them.

#Wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar fic #harry potter series #spilt ink #idk how to put read more with this update #PLEASE HELP

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