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definitelynotafurinasimp · 2 years

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Cuddling with them

Characters: Jean/Layla x gn!reader (separate)

Warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: Originally planned on writing for two more characters, but I'm getting tired and wanted to have atleast something to post. So while I might post the two other parts someday, it won't be today.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Jean

While Jean liked the feeling of being hugged by you from the very first time you put your arms around her, the first few times she’d freeze up instantly, feeling way too nervous to move even a muscle and risk doing something she might regret later. But as time went on, and the number of times you hugged her grew larger, she started to become less and less nervous, until she was eventually able to relax and return the favour.

“How was work?”, you asked after a few seconds of having Jean in your embrace, already knowing what the answer was going to be long before she even opened her mouth to respond.

“Exhausting”, she silently answered, snuggling closer to you immediately afterwards, feeling relieved to finally being able to relax in your arms, only for a thought to flash through her mind as she did so.

“This seems like a scene out of one of those cheesy romance novels”, while Jean was self-aware enough to see that they weren’t the most realistic pieces of art ever put on paper, she was too much of a romantic to care, so when this thought went through her head, she couldn’t entirely decide if she should feel happy about it, or slightly embarrassed for thinking about them in this moment.

“Hmm?”, you made a curious sound, immediately grabbing Jean’s attention as the acting Grandmaster went over the past few seconds to figure out what it was you were curious about, only to realise shortly afterwards, causing her to press her face even more against you in the hopes of hiding her red cheeks.

“Nothing. I… was just thinking about something.”

Layla

While Layla was busy trying to somehow keep up with her schoolwork most of the time, there was no better way to calm down after a very short night than by hugging you, only to fall asleep in your embrace, not for too long, her insomnia causing her sleep to be a rather short one, but it was better than nothing.

“No schoolwork in sight, I didn’t drink any coffee in hours and there aren’t any classes I have to attend today…”, Layla said to herself, only to look up at the sky one last time before closing her eyes and mumbling out a silent prayer.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have the rest of your life. Did you drink the Ashwagandha Tea?”, you asked after shooting her a quick, reassuring smile, Layla nodding in response shortly afterwards, only to start staring at you with a slightly nervous look.

Just as you were about to ask if something was wrong, you remembered her usual timidity when it came to initialising any sort of physical affection, leading to you opening your arms and her immediately letting herself fall into them.

What followed was a long silence, but just as you thought about opening your mouth and asking her if she’s feeling sleepy yet, you noticed her being asleep, causing you to let out a silent sigh of relief, hoping that she’d have a long sleep.

And to both of your luck, your prayers turned out to be answered, as Layla slept the longest sleep in weeks. Unfortunately, however, “longest sleep in weeks” meant about five to six hours for the tired astrology student.

//please consider liking and reblogging if you enjoyed this post

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #jean x y/n #jean genshin impact #jean gunnhildr #jean x reader #jean x you #jean gunnhildr x reader #layla x reader #layla #layla x you #layla x y/n #gi layla #layla imagines

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 2 years

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The Moon Knights & Layla as ✨Vibes✨

A/N: Don’t ask me what this is, lol. Sometimes when I think of a character, I think of weird details like what they smell like, what color they make me think of, visuals or feelings, etc. I’ve been getting over a cold for the past over a week now and haven’t had a lot of energy to write, but these are things that just kind of appear when a character comes to mind, so I figured why not share them? Idk, sorry if this is boring, lmao. Uhh if you don’t find them boring and want to request a character’s ✨vibes✨ though, feel free to ig?

~~~

Layla Abdallah El-Faouly

Dark purple/indigo

Soft textures like really fluffy faux fur, dandelion fluff, soft fabrics

But also like

Storms

Big, scary storms with swirling clouds and lightening and thunder and tornado warnings

Watching heavy rain from under a canopy or through the window of a warm, cozy house

The shininess that leather has

Stepping through a muddy puddle of water

Sometimes knives but a very specific type of dagger-y knife that I don’t know how to explain

The steam coming from a hot bowl of soup or noodle dish

Marc Spector

Blood red

Fabrics like silk, velvet, and chiffon

Hair that is crunchy from a lot of product in it for some reason

Early mornings

But like really early mornings

Teddy bears for some reason

Unsurprisingly, bloodied knuckles

Radio/TV/walkie talkie static

The little lines at the corners of the lips on a tight-lipped expression; not the entire expression, just those little lines

Steven Grant

Sandalwood and tea tree oil

But also the smell of heat/sunshine when he wakes up after sleeping

Sundays

Having books with dog-eared pages and broken spines from owning them for so long, but also being horrified when you see someone else mistreating a book in literally any way

Being in the darkest, quietest part of a giant aquarium with only aquatic creatures and soft blue light around you

Flannel

Dust particles floating gently through the air, particularly in rays of sunlight

Yellow or gold but never both

Like a very specific shade of yellow, like canary yellow but paler

The creases in clothes that have been folded for a really long time but weren’t folded very well

Jake Lockley

Just a little too much cologne all of the time

Probably to cover the scent of blood, etc

The scents that you always see those weirdly sexual ads on TV for

With names “Crashing Waves” and “Tornado Dragon” and “Shipwreck” and shit

Late nights

Street lights

Falling asleep in a car while someone else is driving (probably because he’s a cab driver)

Car tire and horn sounds (Also probably because he’s a cab driver lol)

Really dark blue, like the sky during the middle of the night

I was gonna try to explain another color but I think I’m trying to describe a color that doesn’t exist

Addressing him by his full name literally every time you speak to him

Scratched records but not like the sound of scratched records, the physical objects

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hunnieknight · 5 months

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Hello!! Hello!!

May I request the genshin characters on what kind of Minecraft player they would be when playing with the reader

Like would they gather flowers for the reader before starting any progress in the game

Or do they do everything from making the beds to finding diamonds while the reader just playfully mingles around

You know, take your time on this and thank you if you take this request

Bai bai!! :D

"Chaotic Server"(Art Only)

You created a minecraft server to play with your friends. What kind of players are they?

A.K.A assigning Genshin character and their role in minecraft server.

GN! Reader, everyone is stupid and dumb (lovingly), you are the server admin, and everyone wants your attention I guess, messy art!!

A/N: This was Requested way before Fontaine debut

Big thanks to my friend who helped me with the Gamertag

Go ahead make headcanons or fic inspired by this!

----

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sea-lanterns · 1 year

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COOL IT DOWN

synopsis: cryo women cooling you down

featuring: ganyu, shenhe, layla, rosaria, ayaka, eula

rating: 18+ n.sfw (minors dni)

warnings: dom! afab gn reader (ganyu, layla, ayaka) and sub! afab gn reader (shenhe, rosaria, eula). temperature play, improper use of cryo vision, scissoring, strap on, face-sitting, oral, biting, breast worship, fingering, dirty talk and slight degradation.

art credits: the love doctor

GANYU

Ganyu whimpered as you ground your hips feverishly against her cunt, slick fluids dripping down her thighs and onto the bed sheets below. You held one of her legs over your shoulder and smiled when she trembled under your hold, cooing at how cute she was with the way her eyes looked up at you under tearful lashes.

“Ganyu…” you purr gently, stroking one of her calves, “You’re so cold…it’s perfect…”

She lets out a small whine at your words and attempts to smile, the cryo energy emitting from her body cooling the two of you down from the hot blazing heat of the sun… She never would’ve thought to use her vision like this, but since you were the one to suggest it, she quite liked the idea as now the two of you could have sex in the summer without getting too hot…

“Ah…w-wait…!”

With a sudden grind of your core against hers, Ganyu moans and grips onto your thighs while the icy feeling mixed with the heat of her folds makes you groan out in relief. “So nice…” you mumble, smiling down at her with half lidded eyes, “So good for me…”

The half-adepti whimpered pathetically at your words and seemed to bask in your praise, clumsy hands reaching up to wrap around your neck and bring you down for a kiss. Lips hotter than fire as she came all over your thighs.

SHENHE

You yelped as Shenhe thrust furiously against your cunt with her strap. The cold dick molding itself inside your walls as you tried your best not to cum right then and there. The adeptus student looked quite intrigued at your reactions of ecstasy and held you closer against her to nibble on your ear, minty breath brushing up against your skin as she whispered hotly to fluster you even more.

“Does that feel good…?” Shenhe inquired, delivering low, shallow thrusts that made you feel the spreading coldness of cryo. “You’re holding me really tight…”

Attentive eyes locked on your cunt, she watched as it creamed deliciously over the plastic blue dildo. Tilting her head and letting judgment decide that you were indeed enjoying it. “…That seems like a good sign, I’ll go faster then…”

She started to speed up her thrusts and you gripped her legs to stabilize yourself when you bounced with each hard push. Shenhe gazing lustfully at the way her cock sank in and out with each drag of her hips, and pulling you tighter against her to feel you tremble with each, brutal, thrust.

She was definitely taking her time in making sure you were thoroughly enjoying this, the cold strap on bringing relief to your hot folds as she grinded her pelvis against your ass. “So hot…” she grunts out, starting to lose her cool as she traced the folds of your entrance with her fingers, bending you over into a position that allowed the toy to move in deeper.

“I’ll make you feel so much better…”

LAYLA

Layla was shivering above you, unable to keep her noises to a minimum as she cried in pleasure from your tongue fucking her from below. She wasn’t used to this, being on top of you I mean. The poor elf clumsily gripping onto the sides of your pillow and rocking her hips gently to ride your face.

“Ah…I’m sorry it’s…mmh…too much…” Layla cried, looking so cute and shy as she looked down at you below her, clearly having the time of your life. “Don’t be…you taste divine…” you chuckle once you come up for air, the woman producing a comfortably cold temperature that made you shiver with delight.

Layla whimpers at your words and shyly plants herself back down on your tongue. Feeling the tip of your nose hit her clit and cause her legs to buckle at the sensation. “Hm…Mmh…”

You notice her struggling to sit properly on top of you and laugh, the vibrations sending her into ecstasy as she moans into her lips. As she does this however, you reach up to grip her hips and stabilize her so she doesn’t fall. Her skin smooth and cold to the touch as she rocked herself more desperately on your tongue.

“A-Ah…!” She bit her lip and moved her hands sporadically to your hair, gripping it tightly with pleasure. “More…more…”

She let out a small groan and dropped her head down to look at you, eyes clouded with a fog of lust as her tongue lolled out to show her aching desire for you…

ROSARIA

Rosaria’s tongue was thick and cold as it lapped up against your cunt, legs trembling as the nun used her even colder fingers to pry your legs apart and keep you spread for her mouth. She clicked her tongue in disapproval when she saw you trying to close your legs, keeping her away from the warm flesh that tempted her into tainting her mouth with your sin.

“Stay spread.” She says coldly, not playing around anymore as she kept you uncomfortably pinned to the wooden table below. “You complained about being too hot so here I am, helping you cool down.”

You let out a shaky breath as she thrust her tongue deeper inside you, dragging the tip against the slick walls of your folds and staring up at you with an unamused look in her eyes. She looked bored, but that couldn’t be far from the truth. The contrast of your hot clit wrapped around her cold tongue just made her uncontrollably lust for you, addicted to how she could make you shiver in the heat of summer just by using her cryo vision and her tongue…

“R-Rosaria…” you flinched when you felt her icy teeth latch onto your clit for talking. The feeling overwhelming your senses as the soothing, sharp pain cooled down your burning body.

“I thought we agreed on moans only…” she murmured into your skin, taste buds rubbing harder inside of you as she groaned at the warmness inside. “Stay quiet, or I’ll freeze your lips with my tongue…”

AYAKA

It felt like you were sucking on ice cream when you placed your lips on Ayaka. Tongue swirling over her stiffened nipples as she whimpered and tugged at your hair in response, bringing you closer to her chest while struggling to keep her moans from leaving her lips.

“Is it…haah…is it cold enough…?” Ayaka murmurs with a shiver, closing her eyes as you prodded her right breast with your teeth. The soft flesh puffing up a pretty pink as you detached from it with a gentle pop. “It’s lovely, my dear. Like a cold treat on a warm day…”

You giggle when you see her blush. Such a contrast to the cool, fridge-like feeling emitting from her own body. Vision wielders were incredible…to alter their own bodies like this and control the elements…the possibilities were endless…

You dove back down to kiss her softly, savoring the fleshy warmth of her lips that made your nerves tingle from temperature change. Not too long ago were you sucking on something much colder, and the contrast made your core heat up in anticipation.

With one last kiss, you trailed your lips down the narrow of her neck, down to her collarbone where you laid a colony of hickies, over the valley of her breasts that made you smile when you saw the teeth marks still embedded, and right above the princess’ bare stomach that iced your hot tongue.

“There…!” Ayaka gasps, pressing her stomach against your lips and trembling when she feels how hot you are, “Just right there…”

EULA

The aristocrat smiled as she watched her fingers sink deep into the velvety warm walls of your pussy… A tint of blue emitting from her fingers as you squirm and writhe from her icy cold touch, fingers so frosty and long as she plunged them in as far as they could go.

“Hah, you’re practically gushing over me already…” she chuckles lightly, kissing your ear as she starts to move. “Careful now…if you’re this wet already your walls would stick to my fingers like glue…”

She laughed when you only grew wetter at the thought. Soft, slow strokes thrusting into you as she savored the warmth of your fluttering walls. Eula was over the edge, completely overwhelmed and so in love as she grew obsessed with the way your cunt gripped her fingers. “So… filthy.”

Eula then lunged forward and bit the stem of your neck, basking in your cries as she let her frosty teeth nip at your skin.

“You’re still this hot…?” Eula breathlessly murmurs, pinching your clit with her thumb and stirring your insides even more. “Hmpf. Shame…I expected you to be shivering by now…”

You felt her fingers get colder inside you and you whine at the sensation, knees buckling and struggling to hold yourself up as the aristocrat places a firm hand on your belly, keeping you upright and delivering a cold shock to the bare skin of your stomach.

“Don’t fall now. I don’t want to dirty my knees if you can’t handle my fingers…”

#ganyu smut #ganyu x reader #shenhe smut #shenhe x reader #layla smut #layla x reader #rosaria smut #rosaria x reader #ayaka smut #ayaka x reader #eula smut #eula x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin women smut

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2800 · 6 months

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Pictures that Ni-Ki sends to you as your boyfriend; a thread 🧡

Bonus: how he looks like/reacts whenever he gets jealous! 🧡

hyung line: Jake Jay Sunghoon Heeseung maknae line: Ni-Ki Jungwon Sunoo

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mochimoqa · 10 days

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The Climax Problem

Literally thought that this was so funny and I wanted to make it a small story lol

Also, this was basically from this post by @faretheeoscar

This is the link to the original post! ^^

Gender neutral Y/n x Steven Grant

Warning: 18+ Mentioning of climaxing (aka: c*mming), some inappropriate jabs here and there

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

We all know of how innocent Steven is and crazy for you. But him releasing during a make out session? That's crazier.

You cupped his face as you kissed him passionately. Your tongue fighting with his and moaning into each other's mouths. You gently pulled his curls as he moaned from the action.

The passion needed to die down as you needed to go to work.

"I gotta go, baby." You pecked his lips and he responded with a small whines.

"A- Alright, love! I'll be waiting for you!" He waved goodbye to you as you waved back and closed the door.

Steven sighed as he looked at his pants. The noticeable bulge in his pants as he unzipped them and revealed a patch of his seed in his boxers.

"Bloody hell..." Steven mumbled to himself.

He got up and took off his pants and boxers to the dirty laundry. He walked to the restroom and looked at the mirror.

"Why do I even do that..." He massaged his temples.

"Looks like someone has a hard time to stop cumming." Marc looked at Steven in the mirror with his little smirk.

"Look, I just can't help it...! Y/n makes me feel so good! I- I- I just can't help it!"

Steven turned around facing at another mirror staring at his reflection.

"You gotta ask some advice for that problem of yours, hermano." Jake crossed his arms and cocked a eyebrow.

"You don't think I know that, Jake?"

He sighed as he cleaned himself with a wet towel.

"Have you ever tried to masterbate before? That could help you, Steven." Marc chuckled.

"What!? Marc! You know I could never do that! And I'm gonna wait til I marry Y/n...! How could you even think of that!?

"Steven, you poor sad little virgin." Marc sighed.

"What about you go on reddit and go to r/Advice?" Jake smirked.

"Reddit...? No, I shouldn't..."

"It's the only thing to help you." Jake chuckled lightly.

"D'oh... alright..." Steven sighed as he grabbed some new boxers and put them on.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

"Steven, I'm home!!" You placed your bag on the floor as you took off your shoes. You walked into your shared bedroom and see him laying down.

You laid down next to him and peppered his face with small kisses.

"Hi." You smiled lightly and played with his curls.

"Hey..." He smiled lightly but then faltered to a small frown.

"Aww... what's wrong...?" You cupped his face.

"It's uhm..." He sighed. "Love, uhm... during out make out sessions... I uh... I cum."

You frozed when you heard that.

"Like, pre-cum or...?"

"No, like full-on climax... and it's embarrassing... just instantly releasing during a make out session...! And I went to Reddit for advise... I- I just know that you're gonna judge me..."

"Steven, that's not embarrassing at all... to be honest, I find that really flattering."

"Really...?"

"Yes, it makes me feel good. It let's me know of how good I can make you really feel..." You leaned into him and gently kissed him softly.

He pulled away and smiled.

"Thank you, love..."

This got me cracking up 💀

Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed this :]

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januaryembrs · 1 year

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LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant x Reader [1]

description: Steven finds his life slowly turning upside down when the man in the mirror starts talking back, he's sleepwalking all the way to the Alps, and the woman he's besotted with from work finds herself more caught up in all of it than he'd ever wanted. [Last Night in Soho inspired]

word count: 11.1k

trigger warnings: gore, blood, swearing, reader has a dark past that will be explored more read at discretion, third person & no use of Y/N, death, reader will become an avatar eventually,

main masterlist | series masterlist

Authors note: I have been in love with this show since I watched it and have finally started the fic I’ve been wanting to since it came out! The chapters are going to be long and readers backstory is dark but this is a piece very personal to me and I hope you enjoy!!!

She felt someone picking up her limp body. The museum lights had long since been shut off, but through the darkness of the exhibition she caught a tall figure standing over her. Her lids were heavy, vision bleary, yet she blinked a few times to try and straighten her mind that still felt like it was pulsing stiffly in her tight skull. Her voice was no better, the only sound she could let out was a guttural whine as the stranger pressed hard on the three deep lacerations on her abdomen that were now gushing blood like a scene from a 90s slasher movie.

They were broad, blocking out the minimal slither of light as they crouched over her and seemed to be yelling something. Probably scolding her for getting copious amounts of thick blood over the freshly mopped floors, she thought numbly. The sound came to her in something akin to static, a muffled string of nonsense. All she knew was they were talking loud and fast. Or maybe she had a concussion too? That thing had thrown her through that glass wall pretty hard.

She couldn’t see a mouth moving, nor could she actually see their face, just two beams of white blinking down at her.

This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening for real. She thought maybe someone had slipped something in her drink when she was at the club, but that was two days ago. There would be no reason for her to be feeling the effects only just now. And when she had been jumped on by one of those things she’d sure as hell felt it. She'd seen it with her own two eyes the way her clothes had been ripped as something plunged its claws deep into her, heard the air whoosh out her lungs as it hurled her through the partition wall.

She’d felt, still felt, the open wound seeping so harshly that she knew it was going to be fatal.

There was no coming back from whatever fever dream this was.

She blinked again up at the mystery guy who seemed to be holding her heavy head gently, but the hot, red wetness on his hands that smeared on her cheek said he also knew how fucked she was. He was muttering something, was there someone else here? Oh god, where was Steven?

“Stev-” Came her broken murmur, but the metallic taste crawling its way up her throat cut her off as a blob of viscid blood rolled down her chin.

“He’s here, he’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Said the voice back to her, his grasp on her hair tightening as she garbled. The breath, life, was leaving her now. Every time she tried to get air into her lungs, she was met with more of the thick liquid spraying into her mouth, her chest retching for oxygen.

She didn’t have long left, she realised numbly.

The room was blackening round the edges even more now, sped up by the way she felt her hands grabbing his arm in a panic. She’d thought she would welcome the cold hands of Death, it wasn’t a stranger in her home. Death rooted himself in her very soul, and yet as it dragged her under consciousness, she couldn’t help but feel like a scared little girl and she tried to cling onto the mystery figure as if he could keep her from Death’s greedy clutches.

It was sweet poetry, knowing she was drowning from the inside out. She had always known her biggest monster lay within her, in her every cell, festering and rotting her, since the moment she was born. There was really no other perfect way to sum up her whole life than it ending this way, choking on her own body. Grabbing onto a stranger, trying to plead for help as a few precious tears wet her face and she realised she was crying. Scared, vulnerable to her own demise like she had always known she would be.

How do you fight off a monster coming from within? You don't. You can’t. So she didn’t.

No amount of soft words or desperate touches on the figure helped her, it only made the departure messier, a bigger pool of blood for them to find her in.

The world felt surprisingly calm the moment she was snatched ruthlessly into Death’s open arms.

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

“Come the fuck on, Steven” Cursing under her breath, she cradled the two disposable cups of coffee tightly, her rosewood coloured lipstick surrounding only one of the lids. The London air whipped her coat around her shins, frigid and unwelcoming as it was even on a good day.

As per usual, Steven was late for work. The two of them had an agreement to meet each other outside the museum every Wednesday and Thursday, which meant his lateness slid in her own time. She could of course just meet the undoubtedly dishevelled man inside, but what kind of a friend would she be then? Leave him to face Donna’s wrath on his own? No, if he was in for a bollocking then so were she.

Friends didn’t exactly come easy to her nowadays, either. So if waiting in the bitterness for another five minutes meant she could keep this one, then so be it.

She had even taken the time on her commute to work to grab him a drink, the thin, black ink on the sticker reading: LATTE, + CARAMEL, -XTRA ESPRESSO SHOT, -XTRA HOT. she had banked on him being late despite the fact she had left him three messages this morning asking if he was awake (he wasn’t) and called him last night before bed to remind him not to sleep in.

A minute or so before she would have figured he was just calling in sick today, she caught sight of a slouched figure dashing off the bus, the grey knitted cardigan belonging to only one person his age in London. His thatch of messy black curls were a next dead give away, as well as the bags under his eyes that never seemed to budge even if he were to sleep two days in a row. Yet, she couldn’t help but smile at the way he seemed to apologise to a flock of pigeons he nearly trampled on in his haste up the many steps leading to their workplace.

“Donna’s going to serve our heads on sticks to scare away rude customers, you know that right?” She said, handing him his drink, now lukewarm, as he nearly crashed into her own body.

“Thanks, Dove,” He said absently as the two of them headed quickly to the entrance, “Yep, I’m aware I’ve buggered us. Bloody weird dreams again,” Steven shook his head as if to rid himself of the odd thoughts. “Sorry though, love. You must be freezing,”

She was freezing, but the way he was quick to worry over her warmed her insides more than she’d care to admit. The nickname crafted just for her, the bird symbolising ‘Quiet innocence’ in Ancient Egypt, as Steven had once told her. Sure enough, the endearing term had stuck quickly, and it warmed her to know she had a special enough place in his life to have a pet name.

It was plain to see just by looking at the twenty-five year old she was smitten with her co-worker. No sane person stands outside in Brittain’s April winds for just a friend. But Steven was different, which she knew was what every naive young girl said about their work crush, but he truly was. Steven had a kindness she had never known someone to offer without wanting anything in return, which he didn’t. He was so sweet to her she understood why he loved the sugary caramel syrup in his coffee so much, she thought often it glazed his every word with a honeyed tone. His face was a blend of a greek god and a lost puppy, a combination she never would have banked on being so damn attractive until she met him.

Even his smell alone of a quiet library, a rain soaked meadow and freshly brewed coffee had her inebriated.

“It’s fine,” The woman reassured as she cut through the main lobby where it was already lively with school kids. A few queued up at the gift shop to pay for their treasures; she smiled when she saw a girl with an Anubis plushie tucked under her arm. “I’m sure she would have found a reason to snap today anyway,”

She adored her job, she really did. Graduating university with a degree in Ancient Languages, working in London’s heart of archeological texts had been a linguist’s version of Broadway. Sure, her talents were beyond soured working in the gift shop, but anything was better than the life she’d fled to get here.

No amount of sneers and dry remarks from Donna could ever drag her kicking and screaming back to that time before she left for Soho.

“What did you dream about this time?” She asked, her black, kitten heels clicking against the freshly polished marble floor.

A ghost of a smile spread across his face, and her eyes couldn’t help but linger on the way his brows lifted, giving away his amusement at his own head. “It was the weirdest thing. I felt like I was flying over London, but not, like, in an aeroplane or anything, like I was flying. Like, me. No wings or anything. Like I’m bloody superman or something.” Steven shook his head again and she gave a small laugh.

“Certainly beats getting the underground. You know, I saw a rat the size of a dachshund this morning, swear on my life. I thought it was about to ask me for spare change,” Steven smiled at his colleague as they entered the Ancient Egypt area. She took a sip of her own hot latte, sweet cinnamon with whipped cream that had long since melted, the liquid already half devoured when she was waiting for him to show up.

“Don’t you ever have dreams like that, then? That feel so ridiculous. It's like, how can my head even come up with it?” Steven asked, and her smile wobbled a little as she saw her manager set her predatory gaze on the two of them. The people pleaser in her wanted to cower at Donna’s furious expression.

In all honesty, she wished for dreams as ludicrous as flying over Piccadilly like a Mary Poppins wannabe. She wished she had Steven’s innocent look on life, that the world around her didn’t terrify her, that it could be as gentle with her as he was.

But that was not real life.

Her dreams were not filled with silly fantasies of flying like heroes. They were filled with dark monsters that looked too much like men to be supernatural, that managed to catch her no matter how many times she ran, begged, screamed. They always caught up to her. Always. Leaving her clawing at the duvet, drenched in sweat and a pulse that could challenge a hummingbird’s.

“Brace yourself,” She ignored his question, muttering the words to him as the blonde came strutting over to them with a daggers look. Ah, Donna. The woman that made her job so joyful, so easy, a delight to be around.

Donna hated her almost as much as she made it clear Steven was on a metaphorical hit list the moment he stepped foot into the museum.

“You pair better have a good explanation,” Donna snapped, dumping a tower of boxes in Steven’s arms.

“Bus times-” Steven said at the same time she came out with:

“Road works-”

They both stopped, hesitating a glance to one another. The blonde looked between them, shaking her head with a furrowed brow and a scornful sigh.

“It’s like tweedledum and tweedledee having you two together,” She muttered, nudging the younger girl towards the stands in the middle of the gift shop, “Dum, you’re stock shelves today, love,” The term didn’t sound nearly as friendly coming from her mouth, nor did it make her chest flutter like it did when Steven said it. It was condescending, rude. Made to make her feel inferior, which it did. She pointed at the man then, shoving a basket of insect themed sweets to him behind the till, “Dee, you’re selling these.”

Donna looked between the two of them one last time, her steely blue glare never wavering, as if checking they could be left alone together without wasting company time, before going to set her unforgiving jaws on some other poor creature.

The girl set her bag behind the counter and got to work organising the merchandise, twisting the ceramic scarabs to all be facing the front.

It was a menial job at best, being stuck stacking shelves as mothers and fathers reached over to inspect the new stock, most of the time messing up the meticulous order she’d put them out in. Kids got their grubby mits all over the glass pyramid paperweights, making her eye twitch since she knew she’d need to polish them up again, only to flash them a smile and ask them kindly if they had the pocket money to pay for it.

They didn’t, kids just liked to fiddle with priceless things and their parents were too busy on their phones to notice.

She was half way through showing two young girls to the sarcophagus themed pencil cases when she caught sight of Dylan at the front counter, leaning in to talk to Steven.

Dylan was a nice woman to work with. She was one of the only people who’d tried to coax conversation out of the greenie the first week she started there, which had been painful for both of them since she had never been known to be sociable. Companionship did not come easy to her and it was only by sheer luck that Steven seemed so similarly awkward in a charming way that she was able to feel comfortable around him.

It was childish really, a silly work crush that she had no intention of ever letting slip. He was too good for her anyway. He was sweet and kind, gentle, innocent. Everything she was not.

Steven Grant deserved someone who could give him the world. Which is why it shouldn’t have come to too much of a stab to the chest when she heard what the two of them were talking about.

“We still on for seven tomorrow?” Dylan asked, her hair falling in those beautiful, tight curls over her shoulder. Dylan was the type who showed up to work every day looking effortlessly gorgeous which clawed at the younger girl more than she cared to acknowledge. She liked Dylan, she really did. She was friendly in a way that was genuine, didn’t have her second guessing whether she meant the compliments she gave to anyone.

Some days she wondered if Dylan pitied her. A plain Jane girl with no family to lean on, trying to make ends meet in a city as extortionate as London and chin deep in university loans. It was enough for any attractive, confident adult woman to kiss their teeth and “Awww”.

The girl watched the two of them, waiting for the teenagers to decide which stationary sets they wanted. They were looking for ‘different but matching’ they had said, not that she was paying much attention to them. Steven’s face was the picture of lost as he stared at the grown woman, seemingly entranced with her face. And she couldn’t blame him. Dylan flashed him a teasing smile, brilliant white teeth poking out from behind her luscious dark lips.

“Seven tomorrow?” He asked, despite nodding happily as if he understood what she was talking about. But his friend didn’t miss the confusion blaring on his face, his eyes as brown as the coffee she’d bought him scrunched up slightly in bewilderment.

“Best steak in town?” Dylan prompted, her smile not faltering though she seemed to also be slightly thrown off that had forgotten.

Their unknowing audience kept her head down, not wanting to watch for a second more of their conversation. She didn’t need a degree to see the way Dylan had leaned in, her body language turned completely towards him as if to tease him with what could come if their date were to go well, her own almond eyes trailing over him with the air of confidence her younger counterpart lacked.

“Oh right, yeah. Yeah,” Steven replied. She could tell he still had no clue what Dylan was talking about.

“Yeah? Okay,” Dylan replied, oblivious to his dilemma, and stepped away from the desk to go tour the new group of school kids waiting in the hallway.

Steven followed her trail hotly before she could leave, “Sorry but,” He stepped towards her to talk a little quieter, almost embarrassed about how forward he was being, “Are you asking me out?”

Dylan stopped, reeling slightly in shock before she wagged a finger to him and chuckled. “You’re funny. I’ll see you then.” She seemed unbothered by his ‘joke’ though she could hear in his own voice he was muddled. The woman walked away with a sultry looking smile, her eyes flicking to her where her other coworker silently arranged the pencil sarcophaguses. “Morning, babe,” She gave the girl a friendly squeeze on the upper arm as she passed. It only made it more difficult to writhe in jealousy knowing the woman he was seeing was downright lovely.

“Morning, Dylan,” She returned the smile, though the bitterness festered inside her. She had no claim over him, and she really couldn’t blame the two of them for gravitating towards one another. Not only was she merely twenty-five, a decade under Steven and Dylan’s thirty-five years, but Dylan was sexy, confident, flirty. Knew what she wanted. She was incredibly smart too, not an airhead like some other people trying to live the big dream in London. Dylan was a tour guide at the British Museum, and what was she? A graduate with a dead degree, pun intended, and a job that could be done by any wannabe walking in here.

Taking a moment to rearrange her feelings, shoving down the way her heart wriggled in her chest as the little green monster worked its way through her veins, pumping disappointment around her body like a drug.

The two young girls seemed to only then decide which pencil boxes they wanted, unbeknownst to her inner turmoil, and she remained silent as she led them over to the till to talk to Steven, more for her own benefit than theirs.

“I didn’t know you’d asked her out,” She said finally, though it came out as a croak, which she cleared from her throat quickly. Steven scanned their items as the girls both fiddled with ten pound notes, the great Queen Elizabeth staring at the woman from their hands as if she even knew how childish she sounded.

“Neither did I,” Steven replied honestly, printing off the receipts for them, “And you would think for a woman like her there’d be no chance I’d forget a date, you know what I mean?”

Ouch. She smiled tightly, waving the younger girls off as they caught up with Dylan’s tour group. The woman of the hour. Of course he’d be elated at the sound of that, what man with eyes wouldn’t? Anyone would count their stars lucky to be given a chance by a temptress like her.

“Must have needed that coffee today after all,” She joked, though she couldn’t bring herself to smile properly, instead finding a middle ground between a grimace and a simper.

Steven chuckled at her, shaking his head. “Must have. What would I ever do without you?” She grinned painfully at him, looking away to try and hide the way her face grew hot at his thoughtless words. “Am I still walking you home tonight?”

Another of their routines. She lived closer to Islington than the lovely apartment Steven had in Whitechapel. Despite paying a lot per month to live so close to the city centre, some areas of London like the borough she lived in was still ridden with some of the highest crime rate in the county. Steven was more thoughtful than anyone she had ever met, a rarity in this place, and on the days they were at work together he would ride the underground home with her before detouring around to his own apartment even further away.

“Uh, no,” She replied, busying herself with unloading one of the boxes Donna had dumped in Steven’s hands earlier. She loved spending time with Steven, loved it so much that she felt guilty of lusting over him without his knowledge, but she couldn’t bear to hear any more about this date that he would no doubt want to pick her brain apart over. He’d want to ask what to wear, how to style his hair, if he should buy her chocolates and flowers even though she already knew he would. And the whole time she’d be hoarse in the throat from holding back the urge to say Date me instead, I’m begging you. “No, I have a date of my own tonight,”

Liar. Liar. Liar.

It was like their monarch Elizabeth was still glaring at her, judging her through her inky lashes and driving the dagger in further at the fact that this kind of behaviour was exactly what made her too immature to be considered for a real date with Steven.

He raised his brows, surprised. It wasn’t uncommon for her to have an occasional fling with a guy every now and then. But none of them really progressed to a date, just a single night of passion to groan over in embarrassment when Steven asked how her weekend went.

“Oh, who’s the lucky guy?” Steven asked, nudging her shoulder in a tone that was nothing but teasing.

“No one, just someone I met on tinder,” She brushed off, the lack of excitement making the man stop trying to pry a smile out of her.

“What’s the matter?” She shrugged at him, not coming up with a response in time. What he took as nerves was in fact guilt and disgust feasting on her insides at the fact she was lying to him. Lying. There was no mystery man, no one coming to save her from this awkward display of what pure jealousy can do to a reasonable person. “You can always cancel if you don’t want to go.”

“I just…” she trailed off, stuck for what to say. He was looking at her with those puppy eyes no grown man should be able to perfect. And yet he was patiently waiting for her to stumble on the right set of words, his entire focus on whatever it was troubling her. That was another thing, for as chatty as a person as Steven was, he was just as good a listener, and she could tell he gave her everything every single time they would talk. “I just don’t know what to wear, is all,”

He seemed content with her answer as his eyes trailed down her body. She squirmed under his gaze but hid it well (not at all) by pulling her cardigan sleeves over her hands and balling her fists to fidget with, “Wear what you’re wearing now,” He said simply, as if it were obvious.

She looked down. A large top and casual jeans did not exactly say date worthy, though she wasn’t sure if there were actual rules to hypothetical dating, seeing as her man was fucking imaginary.

She giggled at him nonetheless, shaking her head, “These are my work clothes, Steven. I can’t go like this.”

“Why not? I think you look lovely,” Steven’s comment was passing, tiny in the scale of things. Yet it sent her heart scrambling for a grip on reality. He was just her friend, complimenting her on her perfectly ordinary clothes. Nothing more.

It wasn’t until she found herself smiling at a set of metal Pharaohs that she realised she needed to get a date for this evening fast. If Dylan and Steven could find someone in this wide city, surely it couldn’t be too hard for her to.

Sound was the first thing that came back to her. The crappy animated kids show she had been watching out of pure boredom last night was still playing after being left on all night. No doubt running up her already high electric bills. The exaggerated, slapstick bangs blared through the speaker. That caught her attention, drawing her into the awake like a fog horn from shore. The midday sun slipped through the open curtains, flicking over her lids and coaxing her to open them. She did so gently, lashes batting over her cheeks as she tried to make sense of where she was.

Her sofa.

The two empty mugs glared back at her from the coffee table, making her eyes wince in confusion. Why was she making tea so late last night?

Then the stench hit her. The smokey yet overwhelmingly powerful smell of a gentleman caller named Jack Daniels wafted up her nose and brought back a panorama of memories flicking through her head; The date. A real date that had been scheduled since Thursday. A completely ordinary blonde named James. The restaurant. Him being almost too charming. Fake laughing at his jokes she had already seen on Twitter weeks ago. Him touching her thigh every chance he could get. Suggesting they go to a club. Dancing. Shots. More dancing. Sharing a beer she pretended not to think was the most horrendous thing she’d ever tasted. More shots. More dancing. Him grabbing her hips. Her waist. Him kissing her neck, cheek, lips. Him grabbing her more, something she would find sleazy if she wasn’t desperate to force Steven out of her intoxicated brain.

Which led to her apartment. The sofa, as classy as it sounded, was seemingly a better option than her bed. She had been quick to shut him down when he suggested moving it to her room; that was too intimate. That was her space, which would only be tainted by this stranger wanting to bend her over. So the sofa it was.

Whiskey served in old mugs she got from the gift shop being chugged for Dutch courage. The same mugs she had bought with Steven as part of a set. They had taken two each, promising that they would be used whenever the other visited.

She had given him Steven’s mug out of spite, even in her vodka riddled brain she was burying her feelings six feet under.

Her hand shot out when she heard her phone buzzing, not wanting it to wake up her actual gentleman caller.

The phone was clumsily brought to her ear, not even bothering to check who was calling before she swiped the green icon.

“Hullo?” It came out a horrible croaky mess and had her coughing the second she’d asked.

“Hi, Dove! Just called to see how your date went.” Steven’s voice blared through the speaker, which only served to have her pulling it away and groaning. “And also to tell you about my dream, I think it was the weirdest one to date!”

“Woah, slow down, Steve-” She tried to say, but the man had clearly a mouthful to tell her and continued on regardless.

“I was in the alps, but it was all so real. There was this group of people taking it in turn to hold hands with this weird American guy, and then I got into a high speed cupcake-van chase with the lot of them because they started saying I’d stolen this little scarab thing from them, I don’t know where I get this stuff from-” Her eyes scrunched together in pain, though she lay in the quiet and tried to gather her bearings. She sat up from the sofa, shivering when she saw it was around midday outside and she had forgotten to close the window.

“Sounds intense,” She mused to keep him talking, pulling a blanket over her still nude body as she stood to close it and preserve the heating. Her head spun as she stood, a rush of bile rising to her throat dangerously, which she choked back down and looked around the room. Quickly realising she was alone in her flat, she shuffled over to the kitchen in her blanket cocoon to find her purse to see how bad the damage her little excursion had done to her limited stash as any responsible youth did after a night out in London.

“It was! I swear it was like I could feel the cars smashing into me- Oh right! How was your date?”

She blanched, head still pounding, “Uh. Yeah it was great.” It was average at best. “He was super funny,” For a Twitter fraud. “So romantic,” If romantic was the new word for ten minutes of missionary and not even making her cum. “He took me wine tasting,” She was sure she’d be tasting the wine she’d bought at the club any second now judging by the way her head spun, “Yeah, he was great,” He wasn’t you, Steven.

“I’m so pleased for you, love!” Her best friend cheered, a part of her writhing in repulsion that she had lied to him again. Though maybe that was the wine begging to make an appearance. She stuck the lever down on the kettle to get the water boiling, sure that a fresh cup of strong tea would be the only thing to pull her through this hangover.

Part of her, the dark, twisted part, wanted him to be jealous. Wanted to make him as frustrated and envious as he had unknowingly made her. But he would never, could never. Steven was tender and good. He was too sweet to ever think a single bitter thought towards her, towards Donna even. Which only served to make her feel even more rotten inside.

“How was your date with Dylan?” She forced herself to ask. It was selfish for her to think, but she wished more than anything for him to tell her that it went horribly. She hated the part of her inside that sang with glee at the idea of him hating his date. She truly was wicked inside, and the idea only reminded her more of why she would never be asked on a date by him. Maybe he could see it too, how sick she was for wanting the world to suffer if she couldn’t have the one man she’d ever truly wanted.

“That’s not until tonight, love, remember?” He said casually, as she fumbled around her kitchen for her handbag. She locked eyes on the little black clutch sitting on top of the counter. Her brows furrowed in confusion, she could have sworn Dylan said they were meeting Friday, two full nights ago. Her heart plummeted, maybe it was a second date.

Ofcourse it was. Ofcourse they hit it off, who wouldn’t. He was as smitten as anything and Dylan wasn’t that kind of woman that was too afraid to tell him exactly what she wanted. If she wanted to see him again, then Steven would give her exactly what she asked for.

“Tonight?” She asked, squeezing the phone between her shoulder and her head as she popped open the clasps to her bag.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t forget a woman like her twice in a row,” Steven joked. But what should have made her gut curdle in pain only fell on deaf ears.

Her purse was gone. Her purse that never left her damn bag, that she had stuffed her rent money in as soon as she’d gotten it was missing.

“I-I’m gonna have to call you back, Steven,” She uttered through the heart sized lump in her throat. Her palms were already clammy with sweat, both from the drink and from her sheer panic, “Good luck on your date,”

“Alright, gators!”

She barely got a chance to murmur their goodbye back before she had thrown her phone down on the plain, white counter and dumped out the contents of her bag.

Hair ties, the odd two pence, a pen she stole from the bank. But no purse.

She turned her coat pockets inside out, the blanket falling down her waist and exposing her round breasts to the cold air. But she couldn’t care less. The goosebumps slithering up her arms did nothing to fight the hot panic as the sofa cushions were thrown off their frame, the young girl still turning up empty handed.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

This could not be happening. She hadn’t opened her bag all night, even when she got out of the taxi she had her phone readily in her hand and the bag tightly closed. Someone could have taken it in the club, sure, but that made no sense seeing as her bag was definitely still heavy with the wallet when she had gotten home, not near empty like it was now.

Which only meant…

Her date had fucking stolen from her.

“FUCK!” She yelled, throwing her vacant bag across the room with tears brimming her eyes.

It seemed life had been digging a trench underneath Rock Bottom reserved for her at a time like this. And she was left clutching at the muddy walls, trying to drag herself to safety and anywhere that wasn’t her shitty situation where she pined over a man she could never have, where she was still walking the line between sane and whatever else was brewing inside her, fighting against tendrils of hatred and chaos, malignance, that wrapped around her organs and reminded her where she came from, what she was. A life where she got mugged by the men she fucked at her expensive pity parties.

She just hoped Donna wasn’t too hard on her tomorrow after this shit show of a weekend.

“Late, again,” Came the chiding voice the moment she stepped in the building.

Sweat dripped down her back from her long trek through London to get to work. 48 minutes of power walking is what she had been reduced to, unable to get the bus or underground for lack of money.

And she was still late. She was expecting a nice, fat kick to the teeth any time now.

“It’s five minutes, Donna,” You pleaded, yanking an earphone out. Music was the only thing that could block out the thrum of anger and agony she was in from the weekends chaotics.

“Even Stevie-”

“Steven,”

“-Was on time today and he’s the worst for it,” Donna snapped, and the young girl could do nothing but slump in defeat.

“I’m sorry, Donna. It won’t happen again.” She promised. She wasn’t sure if she meant it yet with her lack of transport, but she couldn’t lose this job. She didn’t even know how she was going to pay for this month’s rent let alone catch the bus, breakfast itself had been skipped in an attempt to conserve food. Her stomach ached from the exercise, crying out for anything to fill its distressed cavern. “I got robbed yesterday so I walked,” She murmured, avoiding the blue eyes that had narrowed in on her. She hated feeling pitied, feeling as though people were sorry for her. But it was the truth, and the truth sucked sometimes.

She wasn’t sure what beam of light had shone out of Donna’s ass this morning, or whether she really did look just that pathetic, but the blonde woman just sighed and nudged her towards the gift shop.

In perhaps the nicest tone she’d ever spoken to her, Donna quietly said “Last warning, girl, alright?” The younger woman thanked her quickly, her small voice sheepish. Her boss looked down at her in discontent, “Alright, get going. And you’re on inventory with Steven tonight so best behaviour, I mean it,”

She nodded, turning on her heel to speed towards the gift shop.

Turning from the main lobby to enter the Ancient Egypt exhibits, she’d not gotten halfway there when she’d caught up to Steven seemingly helping a customer. Odd considering the fact he wasn’t even in the shop yet, but knowing Steven he’d probably stopped to chat the guy’s ear off about something he knew too much about to be just a giftshoppist.

She went to wave when he looked up and met her gaze, but the forlorn, scared expression she found there had her already negligent smile drop completely. Steven seemed relieved to see her, too nervous to say anything to the man himself as he stood too close for his comfort.

Her eyes fell to where the stranger held Steven’s hands tightly, murmuring something to him that seemed to have her friend freaked out. The whole sight threw her for a loop, and she called his name on instinct, the new man’s head shooting up to stare at her blankly.

Speeding up her pace, she met the two as Steven pulled away from the stranger’s strong grasp. “Steven, are you okay?” She asked gently, looking from her friend to the lithe figure of the man. He wasn’t tall by any means, but his presence, the way he dressed and held an intricately woven cane seemed meant to make himself superior. His hair was long and greying, still young enough to be attractive but probably a bit older than Steven. A neat sort of scruff sat on his chin, and old blue orbs took her in head to toe where she stood. Not out of lust, but out of intrigue.

“We were just talking, weren’t we, Steven?” The man said calmly, seemingly sizing her up himself. She looked over her shaken friend quickly, the alarm written over his face that had near brought him to tears telling her all she needed to know.

This man was no friend.

“Sorry, I don’t remember asking you,” She snipped in the cold politeness English people all knew how to enact, bringing her friend’s hand into her soft one for reassurance. Steven had never seen her so infuriated. And perhaps it was the weekend she’d had or the way the man so gentle he refused to kill insects seemed to be trembling beneath her hand, she wasn’t sure, but a fierce frown was deep set into her face that dropped into concern the moment she looked back to him, “Are you alright?”

“Can we go, please?” His round, nut brown eyes were soft and welled up as he quietly spoke, as if asking for her permission to be away from here despite being the older of the two. Her heart dropped at his sad expression, and she felt him squeeze her hand as if needing to reassure himself someone was there to save him.

She had no time to note the way the butterflies swelled in her stomach as he did so, focused on getting him away from the strange man.

“Ofcourse,” She said softly, turning to direct him to their little corner of the museum, hoping that the stranger would get the hint and just leave them be.

That seemed short lived when a cold hand wrapped itself around her lower arm, a gasp drawing its way from her lungs. She could feel the panic of being grabbed by the unfamiliar man crawling up her spine, her limbs going numb, her hearing dipping in and out of static at the adrenaline flushing through her system.

She heard Steven say her name as her head snapped to where the man’s strong grip tightened around her wrist. He seemed to stare at her with something calculating, and she wished she hadn’t run her mouth despite the fact she did so to protect the same person who was now behind her, a deeper sense of panic blaring in his eye than before.

“Let go-” Taking a deep breath to overcome the bubbling fear rising in her chest, her only words were cut off by a much clearer voice.

“There is a darkness in you,” The stranger said, as if he knew it for a fact.

Her heart plummeted.

Was it so obvious? No one had ever been able to see it, she buried it so deep in the hopes no one would ever get a glimpse beneath her kind shell. But it was a facade, and even he knew it. The shock must have read clear on her face as he pushed on, as if to reopen scar tissue with his bare hands.

“And chaos, oh there is chaos.” Her lips quirked between her teeth as she tried to stop them from trembling, “A shadow looms over you, little dove.” She felt Steven pull her closer to him, but this man had her every morsel of attention. How did he know, if he knew then surely Steven knew too. Knew she was born so dead she felt she was living a lie by being here. The man laughed to himself, just a small breath but it was enough to break her spirit, “What is it those witches say about Macbeth? Something wicked this way comes.” He asked though he already knew the answer, as if to entrance her with his own spell, “And I see you are truly something wicked.”

Her breath left her chest. The voice escaped her throat. Every intention of protecting Steven had practically evaporated out of her body as her co worker tugged her arm hard enough that the stranger let go of her.

“Leave us alone or I’ll call the police, alright?” Steven murmured with a new sense of courage, “I don’t care if you’re friends with the security here, you leave us alone,”

But the man’s eyes hadn’t left her, as if he knew just how deep his words had struck with her. He wormed his way into her brain even as Steven led her away with a kind hand on her back, his own words of reassurance coming to her as if she were underwater. As if she were being dragged under a current.

“He has no clue what he’s talking about, love. He was trying to get into my head too,” Steven said, but he could tell by the lost look in her eyes it was barely being registered.

“Who the hell was that?” She asked after a moment, the feeling in her fingertips just about awakening once they were far enough away to be considered safe.

“You won’t believe me if I told you-”

“Steven, please,” She begged, looking up at him with a desperation he had never known from her. That man, Harrow, one of the women in the alps had called him, had truly shaken her up with the near omen he had given her.

Steven couldn’t understand why, she was possibly the loveliest girl he had ever met. There was no one who so much as held a torch to her light in Steven’s eyes. She was kind. Gentle. Good. This Harrow had no idea what he was talking about saying she was wicked. She was anything but.

Steven sighed, looking at her gravely. “Remember yesterday when I said I had that dream the other night. When I was in the alps, and those men were chasing me for some scarab I’d stolen,”

She blinked at him emptily. In her defence, her brain had still been riddled with alcohol when he’d been rambling, and she had gotten caught up in her own personal issues since then to take much notice. But the scenario sounded familiar as she wracked her brain for the information, some light sparking in her eyes when it clicked to their phone conversation the day before.

She stayed silent, eyebrows furrowing, “You said that was a dream, Steven. That man is very much real,”

“I know, I thought it was a dream,” Steven explained, “But now they’re here, and they keep saying I’ve got this scarab and what not. I don’t understand any of this, love. I’m sorry. I just know he’s dangerous and we need to stay far away from him,”

The younger woman looked at him sadly. He was clearly in distress himself, and she felt a flash of sympathy run through her at his lost expression, yet his eyes were full of concern for her well being.

She knew what it was like to struggle to know what was real and what was not. What it was like to feel as though you're barely keeping your head above the waters of reality. Yet she trusted Steven would tell her if he knew what was happening.

She knew he was more honest than anyone she’d ever known, so she didn’t push.

“Alright,” She said with a heavy sigh, rubbing her eyes to relieve the pressure building in her frontal lobes, “Alright, let’s just steer clear of him, okay? And if he comes back, we go to the police together.”

Steven seemed relieved, which wasn’t a surprise since he knew it was a big ask to have someone trust such a ludicrous story. Yet he didn’t know why he doubted her. She was loyal and would never dream of ridiculing him like other people might. She just took his word as gospel.

She was too good to him.

“Okay, yeah. Good plan,” He said, nodding and checking behind him to see if the guy was still after them when a smaller body pressed its way into his chest.

She didn’t know why she did it, whether it was for his benefit or hers, but she hugged him. Tightly too, as if she had been holding back for a while (she had). They hugged all the time, when saying goodbye at her train stop, when they saw each other on a morning given they weren’t running late. But it never felt like this, so intimate. So much like she needed him so desperately.

Perhaps it was childish, but the way he drew her closer, resting a head on top of hers as if he needed the contact as much as she did made her heart flutter even with the strange circumstances. For a moment, they both felt safe, like Harrow couldn’t get in their heads entirely because they had each other to ground them, reassure the other that they were not alone in the web his ominous words had spun them into, and that was enough for now.

Yet the two of them barely spoke all day.

Whether it was they were too busy with their actual work, or they were both in their heads thinking just what Harrow had meant by his prophesying.

It wasn’t until inventory was nearly done that she spoke first.

“We’re going to be alright, aren’t we?” She asked, his head cutting to hers from where he was scanning some Beefeater Rubber ducks. He seemed to notice the slight glint of fear in her tone, “As in, they don’t know where you live do they? Or me?”

“No love, of course not,” At least he hoped they didn’t. Steven realistically couldn’t promise anything, he had no idea how far this Harrow’s network of followers ran. But he knew for certain he couldn’t stand to see her so scared. It ran a streak of anger in him that was unusual. Steven never found himself particularly angry, but it had run red hot when he saw the way Harrow had grabbed her and knocked the soul out of her with his words alone. “If you want, you can stay at mine tonight? I’ll take the sofa, you can take my bed,” After he’d swept away the giant ring of sand of course.

She smiled at him finally, maybe the first proper one she’d shown him all day. And he couldn’t help but feel his chest grow lighter that he had done that. Gods be good, she was pretty when she smiled, he thought.

“Thanks, Steven,” She said quietly. He was confident the two of them could figure this out together, and if he was sure of her, then how wicked could she truly be?

She knew it was a cop out, that she hid so much from him that he didn’t know the real her; that if he did he would turn tail and run as far as he could from the monster in front of him. That he would curse himself once he realised Harrow was right; she was polluted down to her marrow.

“I’ve only got this box left to do, love, then we can get out of here,” Steven promised, his eyes flicking over where she collected two half full crates of merchandise and headed out of the gift shop to the stockroom.

“I’ll take these out and meet you in the lobby?” She called over her shoulder, hearing him agree as she walked away to the area meant for employees only.

Sighing deeply, she put the crates down gently, sliding them into a bottom shelf out the way of clumsy feet (most likely her own). A thought jumped in her tired brain, and she was quick to turn out her pockets for any spare change she could use for the train fare back to Steven’s apartment.

Just as she suspected: empty. Because why would she be so lucky as to have anything good happen to her. She could always try and persuade Steven to walk home and save the embarrassment of revealing what actually happened to her Saturday night, but she knew the pitiful look he would give her if she told him the truth of her date. The sad eyes that would flash that neither of them needed after a morning of such anguish.

They didn’t need another of her pity parties today, and she grimaced at the thought of how horrendously the last one ended. Though she knew Steven was different, that he would never do anything so cruel to a stranger let alone herself.

It only made her heart yearn for him more.

Sighing, she thought on her feet as to what to tell him as she left the stockroom, locking the door behind her with the key Donna gave them all a copy of. Her heels rhythmically clicked on the freshly polished floor that reflected her frowning face back at her as if to remind her to stop looking so tormented.

She saw the light of the main exhibit at the end of the darkened hallway, heading towards it at no rush since she figured Steven would likely just about be done himself. Lost in her own head as to what excuse to give the man she called her only friend, she almost missed the deep sound snarling in the shadows behind her.

Whipping her head around with a wide eyed expression, her eyes flicked around the hallway for any glimpse of what made that sound.

But she saw nothing. Not in the way shadows were nothing, dark patches of nothing, as in she saw nothing there. Had anything been lingering behind her, she would have at least caught or heard any movement.

She paused for a second to take another look, only to still come up empty. Her foot warily continued its original path, figuring the sound must have been the cleaners dragging something against the floor.

“Hey, Steven,” She called upon approaching the lobby where he’d be waiting, “Do you reckon I could owe you a coffee for my train fare? It’s just-”

Her voice cut out when she heard the low growl again, much louder this time. Loud enough to have her wince and stop in her tracks in the centre of the room.

She caught sight of the navy blue jacket she knew too well walking backwards slowly, his eyes trained on something in the adjacent corridor.

“Steven-” She whisper yelled, his panicked eyes snapping to hers, “What the hell is that-”

His arm raised out to point at the shadow illuminating the wall. Her gaze fixed on the shadow of a wild dog of sorts, its snout long and open in a fierce grin. She could practically see the outline of the drool dripping from its sharp teeth, at least she hoped it was saliva she thought gravely.

Her breath left her instantly. What the fuck was that? Her knees felt as if they were about to buckle underneath her, calves going numb as the adrenaline flushed over her body in tidal waves. She was always a dog lover, she’d had two as a kid, but something told her whatever kind of beast this was, it was not nearly as friendly as a tamed canine would be.

And it seemed Steven realised it too as he was quick to cower behind a display of an ancient relic clutching his bag to his chest tightly.

His frantic eyes pleaded for her to move, but she seemed frozen to the spot.

The overhead tannoy rang melodically, as if God was preparing to make the announcement that they were truly fucked, something she didn’t need a bulletin to know.

“Steven Grant of the gift shop.” The sound of that familiar voice had her heart plummeting into her gut that twisted painfully. Did this guy have attack dogs or something? How had he gotten them past security? They looked huge. “Give me the scarab and the two of you won’t be torn apart,”

The scarab? Everything Steven had said about his dream was true. And if that was true then that meant this guy was a nut job capable of having his entire team hunt her down for so much as associating with poor Steven who looked as lost as she felt.

The shadow moved, shifting around the corner of the hall to enter the open lobby. A scratch-like sound found her ears, as if someone were running knives over a cold slab, and she realised with a shiver this thing must have claws.

And they were approaching.

An open mouthed growl echoed through the room, which only served to confuse her even more. From the volume alone she knew the thing was big, and in the very same room as her. Which meant she surely should be able to see it as she could see the entire length of the room it had to be walking down.

But that was the thing. There was nothing there.

“Steven,” She whimpered quietly. It was stupid, making that noise and attracting attention to herself. But she was scared. She wanted to know what to do. Wanted comfort that she wasn't going insane, that maybe this was all a practical joke and there really was nothing there.

A second set of razor sharp nails entered the room from the same direction, yet again she could only decipher that on sound alone. The chorus of snarls that only got closer did nothing but have her step back on instinct.

“Steven-” She said again, only to see him standing in a rush.

“RUN!” He yelled, taking off towards the exit.

She didn’t need to see the dogs to know they were in the way of her and the same route Steven had taken, so she settled for scrambling back the way she came. The black heels she wore for work to seem professional only proved to be useless when running from wild animals, it seemed. Who’d have thought it?

Her feet pounded down the maze of exhibits, trying to make it to the exit where Steven had headed towards. But for every one step she took, two paws advanced on her like an apex predator heading for its kill.

Which she no doubt would be.

Turning past the Anubis exhibit her stomach dropped when she heard a strong body colliding with the same wall she had practically skidded past. Her lungs burnt with effort, her breaths coming out in wheezes. She had one last turn and before she would be seconds away from the fire exit that she could barricade from the outside.

The feeling of the dog’s hot breath on the back of her ankles had her pushing herself harder, too scared to look over her shoulder. She was coming up to where the hallway split into two and she headed for the right where she was sure the back exit was. She couldn’t help but wish Steven was able to outrun the mutt on his own heels, having not heard from him since she had taken off in separate directions.

Taking the turning past a remaining chunk of what was once a Cleopatra statue, her eyes adjusted to the dark corridor. Where were the slab paintings of the sphinx? Where were the memorials to King Tut? They should be here, they’re always next to this exit-

Her chest constricted when she realised her mistake. Her grave mistake.

In the panic of escaping the creature, she had taken the wrong turning. She should have gone left.

Yet judging by the way the animal grunted with the effort of the chase, she had no option but forward.

Forward to a dead end. To the Setekh exhibit room.

The walls were alive with paintings recovered from ancient tombs. The god of Storms, among other things, was feared through all of Egypt in the later dynasty. He was associated with all things evil, mysterious and disordered. The huge altar that held the statue of Set, his long face foreboding and as cold as the stone it was preserved in, looked down at her in almost malice as her feet took her into the one place she had left to go.

It wasn’t until she felt the walls surrounding her, the penny dropped how fucked she was. There was no way out, no cutting back the way she came as the creature ran into the vast room with her. Dodging one of the plinths containing statues of the demon god, she had barely a second where her pace slowed down as she considered how she was going to turn back before she felt it.

A force stronger than a freight train hit her from behind. She heard every molecule of air get pushed from her lungs at the sheer weight of it, her throat audibly yelping. Its body collided with hers with a weight that she was sure must be pure muscle, and she was thrown to the hard floor with less effort than a child tossing a ragdoll.

The impact had her ribs rattling in her chest, brain bouncing against her now bleeding forehead. The cold floor was harsh against her raw skin. Her nose made a loud pop as it smashed against the marble, a hot sting erupting over her entire face.

But the worst was yet to come.

There was a moment when she was collecting her thoughts, head spinning from the collision. She was sure she’d damaged something in her skull as it pounded, harder than it ever had with any hangover.

She’d give anything to be back on her sofa feeling sorry for herself.

She hadn’t the time to pick herself back up when she felt something large do it for her. It must have been eight feet tall with how big its behemoth paws were as the one grabbed her leg and dragged her on her stomach towards itself. Like a cat playing with a mouse. Not ready to devour, not yet. Just playing. Torturing. Tormenting.

Then came the claws. Her eyes looked down at her ribs, the thin air surrounding them making her cry out in horror - there still wasn’t a fucking soul in sight. No dog, or animal. Or human even. Nothing. Yet her shirt ripped almost too easily as it let out a deep hiss of what she would call a near laugh and sunk its talons into her side.

That was when she started screaming.

Her throat hurt from the volume alone, a banshee shriek akin to a horror movie. It reverberated through the museum halls, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Vision started slipping then. Whether it was panic or her mind protecting her from what was coming next she didn’t know, but all she knew was everything felt weightless for a moment.

She thought maybe she was dying and ascending at that moment there and then. But she wasn't so lucky. She was still being made this creature's bitch as the God of chaos watched. What beautifully horrible irony.

It was then that it clicked in her stress-addled brain that she was not in fact weightless. That the reason she felt so was because she was now being suspended midair by the thing that had her in its vicious grasp.

It took shockingly little effort for the creature to throw her through the wall-sized fortified glass surrounding the monolith and for her whole body to crumple to the floor.

Steven slammed the bathroom door shut with a panting “Oh God”, his coffee brown eyes never leaving the thick metal that shook with the weight of the monster throwing itself at it violently.

What the fuck was his next move? What even was that thing? He retreated further into the bathroom with a lost expression, clutching his arms for a semblance of comfort.

“Steven,” The man in the mirror spoke in the same American accent he’d been hearing in his own home.

Looking at his reflection, he was agog to find the man identical to him moving on his own, as if independent from Steven himself. That was not his reflection, he knew that much, no matter how much it looked like it. “Steven, I can save us,” He said darkly, his eyes and frown much meaner than any expression Steven would ever wear.

The way he stood was entirely different too, as if he were bigger in stature despite being encased in the exact same body as Steven was.

“W-What?” Steven whispered, backing away from the door that weakened by the second.

He thought of Dove. Had she been able to get away, run out the front door and get help from anyone who would believe her? He hated the thought of those adorable little heels she wore clattering against the floor, he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d slowed her down. He always heard women complaining about walking in heels let alone running from fucking monsters in them.

Where was she?

“But I can’t have you fightin’ me this time,” He had felt like he’d been playing tug-of-war with his body for some time. But against what, he hadn’t known. His own reflection? This man staring back at him in the mirror with a scowl he knew wasn’t plastered on his own expression? “You need to give me control. You understand?”

He swivelled on his heel to see the man in the full length looking glass behind him, who seemed to tower over him in frame.

“No, what? Control of what? What are you talking about?” Steven bumbled, his eyes looking over the stranger’s shoulder to see the door shaking on its hinges now. Dents were appearing now where the monster was caving its way into the bathroom, and one look at the length of its claws told Steven all he needed to know. He stood no chance against this thing alone.

“That thing’s about to break through the door. We’re out of time.” The man said, realising their predicament as much as he did. This couldn’t be real. This had to be a dream, the lot of it. The entire day. From that Harrow guy to the idea that he could possibly lose her to some ancient wild dog.

“No! No!” Steven cried, flinching as the door clattered one more time, the frame whining with the effort at which it held the assailant at bay.

“All right, hey. Listen to me,” The mirror man tried to reason, but Steven was panicking too much to hear him.

“Dammit, no! Stop it!” Steven slapped himself around the face a few times, begging with anything listening to wake him up from the worst nightmare he’d had yet. The image of her being chased by that thing wouldn’t leave his welled up eyes. He wanted to run to her, god knows he would have if that thing hadn’t been stood in between the two of them, blocking his way to her. “This is not real! You’re not real!”

“This is real. I’m real.” The man spoke calmly, as if a diametrical opposite to his own mood. He seemed to know more about what was happening, what that thing was, what it could do. Perhaps that was why Harrow had been chasing him in the first place.

Either way, Steven didn’t care. Not now at least. When the only person outside of his parents that he had ever held affection for was in danger. Imminent danger.

“No! You’re not,” Steven yelled back at his reflection through tears.

It was then he heard the screaming. A howl of visceral pain enough to rattle his bones at the familiar feminine tone to the voice.

It was her.

It was like nothing he’d ever heard, like an animal in a slaughterhouse. He trembled in his place at the thought. She was in danger. Oh god it had her.

“I’m gonna die- She’s gonna die-” Steven whimpered, the tears rolling down his olive cheeks at the thought. He really was useless.

“Steven, look at me.” He finally listened to his reflection with a pitied sniff, “You’re not gonna die, I can save us. But she is if you don’t give me control right now. Let me save her, okay?”

That was the straw that broke Steven’s resolve, the idea of her dying. He had never found it so easy to concede.

He just hoped the man using his body got to her in time.

She couldn’t see a mouth moving, nor could she actually see their face, just two beams of white blinking down at her.

She’d felt, still felt, the open wound seeping so harshly that she knew it was going to be fatal.

There was no coming back from whatever fever dream this was.

“Steve-” Came her broken murmur, but the metallic taste crawling its way up her throat cut her off as a blob of viscid blood rolled down her chin.

She didn’t have long left, she realised numbly.

How do you fight off a monster coming from within? You don't. You can’t. So she didn’t.

No amount of soft words or desperate touches on the figure helped her, it only made the departure messier, a bigger pool of blood for them to find her in.

The world felt surprisingly calm the moment she was snatched ruthlessly into Death’s open arms.

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 1 year

Text

Layla’s S/O reacting to her fungi-pet

characters: Layla x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: Layla/Miko and Co appearing in the event came out of nowhere for me. I thought it was going to be another npc driven event but I’m definitely not going to complain about it.

Also, this is one of my first times writing for Layla, so if I got some things about her wrong, I'm sorry

This was requested by @3noa3 although I had to change a few things about their request.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Layla

Seeing a student of the Akademiya walk around with a tamed fungi while using it exclusively as mental support and to carry around their school supplies certainly wasn’t an everyday occurrence in Sumeru, but while most of your fellow students were rightfully surprised, you somehow couldn’t find it in yourself to find it anything other than in character for her.

“I see you participated in that tournament as well?”, you asked Layla as you approached her from behind, placing your hand on her shoulder, only to accidentally startle her, causing the fungus to ready itself to launch itself against you, something it would have certainly done if its owner didn’t intervene.

“Twirly-Whirly, stop. They are a friend”, she calmed her pet down before turning to you and trying to respond, only to stop when she saw your smug. It took you all of your restraint not to bring a line in the likes of ‘So I’m only a friend to you?’, not wanting to tease her after nearly giving her a heart-attack. “I-Is there something you want to say?”, she asked, suddenly worrying if she said something embarrassing or had something on her face, only for you to quickly shake your head, allowing her to continue.

“I did participate, I even somehow managed to get into the quarter finals”, Layla told you, her voice betraying how proud she felt about her achievement, causing you to respond with a smile. “Wait, `as well’? Did you also participate?”, the usually tired student asked, only for you to once again respond with a shake of your head.

“No. Well, I wanted to, but I had an essay due today, so I-”, you went on to answer, only for Layla to quickly chime in.

“The same ‘easy’ essay you told me a month ago?”, she asked innocently, quoting what had to be the absolute proof for your poor time management, thus causing you to stare at her in silence for a few seconds before finally continuing.

“Yes. That being said, I knew a few others that said they wanted to participate, even if I’m sure that none of them even managed to get out of the qualifiers”, you finished talking, a big smile making its way onto your face as you remembered how much your friend boasted about how they were going to win, only to lose their first match.

“Oh, that’s a shame to hear”, Layla answered before letting out a small yawn and rubbing her eyes, the adrenaline she had gained from being startled by you finally wearing off, leaving her to once again feel tired. But before she had the chance to say another thing, Twirly-Whirly reminded the two of you of its presence, only for Layla to quickly remember where she had originally been going to.

“Oh no- class- I’ll talk to you later!”, she half shouted her goodbye as she hurried towards her next class, the imagery leaving you with a small smile before you too decided to continue with your day.

#gi layla #layla #layla x reader #layla x you #layla x y/n #layla imagines

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mknightgrant · 2 years

Text

Silence

Pairing(s): Steven Grant x Reader, implied Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Layla El-Faouly

Word count: 5.1K. Buckle up, folks.

Warning(s): Insecurities and heavy angst. I cried while thinking of the concept, and I’m hoping this does my idea justice. Set after the finale, so there are spoilers!

A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing a fic and posting it, so please be gentle! This piece is purely based on research and the events of the series. I am not a system, nor do I know anyone who is a system. If any part of this piece offends anyone, please let me know. No offense is intended.

This is also not completely beta-read, so the mistakes are on me.

Summary: You should’ve stopped asking questions.

Taglist: @s-v-e-l-t-e, @caroldanvours

Everyone had warned you about the rose-tinted glasses. Your friends, your family, hell, and even your old college professors used to tell stories about how love could be either the best or worst thing that you could ever experience. It was a risk to put your heart entirely into the hands of a stranger, giving them the liberty to do whatever they wanted to it. Love it, cradle it, protect it, sure—but also poke it, stab it, and break it to the point of no return.

But with Steven Grant? It was a risk you were definitely willing to take.

You had been friends with him for five months and had been dating for at least eight before he disappeared without a trace. You were confused, to say the least. In the year or so that you have known him, you never would have expected him to disappear and cut all ties with you. But still, you waited. You waited with the hope that maybe he’d come back home to you.

However, when Steven did return, he was conflicted. He honestly believed that you wouldn’t wait for him, especially since there was no effort on his part to try and contact you after his sudden disappearance. Nonetheless, he felt that he at least owed you an explanation, and his heart squeezed in his chest when you didn’t leave when he told you about everything.

He explained it from the start, his sleeping disorder, how he tried staying up because he had hyper-realistic dreams that scared the hell out of him. You already knew of this early on in the relationship, but then he continued the story, telling you about Marc, about Khonshu, and everything that had happened to him from the day he got fired from the museum to the day he came back home to you. You've noticed that he seemed happier now, probably because he understood why he had been losing days of his life, and he’s come to accept and love his alter despite everything.

But there was also another reason, wasn’t there?

Maybe it was your fault. You shouldn’t have asked too many questions. You should’ve just taken what he told you, accepted the anecdotes, and moved forward. You should’ve just been happy that he was here and safe. But you just had to ask, right?

“Who’s Layla?” Your innocent question stopped him dead in the middle of his sentence as the grin he donned slowly faded into a tight-lipped smile. One he had hoped would be a little more reassuring than nervous, and maybe, if he hadn’t taken so long to reply, you wouldn’t have been suspicious.

“A friend of Marc’s.” His reply was short and simple. “I… She was the one who came over that day, remember? When you dropped off that book you borrowed from me? Before I… Before I disappeared?”

Oh. Of course, you remember Layla–well, her physical attributes, at least. To say that she was gorgeous was an understatement. She was breathtaking, ethereal, and a goddess at the least. However, you hadn’t heard whatever they were talking about when you knocked on the apartment door that day because they stopped talking before Steven opened the door, enough for him to peek out at you.

Steven’s heart raced as he studied your reaction to his reply, trying to gauge whether or not you heard his and Layla’s conversation. Surely you hadn’t, right? You had no idea about the scarab before he told you about it when he had returned. So that would mean that you probably hadn’t heard the conversation, and you hadn’t seen the way he looked at her the way he once looked at you. You wouldn’t have waited this long for him if you had, right?

He hadn’t meant to fall for her, but he couldn’t help himself, could he? The second his arms instinctively wrapped around her waist when she drove a little faster towards his apartment, and he was hit with “I’m still your wife,” things changed. His mouth moved on its own accord that day as Layla handed him the divorce papers he–technically, Marc–had sent.

“I would never divorce you.”

Then everything came crashing down after that. Marc had warned him against showing Layla the scarab, but she got around to it anyway, so it was too late. Steven had begged for her help, trying to explain the whole situation, and the entire thing merely confused Layla even more.

“You really don't remember why we've been looking for this? Our adventures. Or our life together?”

“Oh, God, I wish I could.”

You had come knocking on the door only a few minutes later, a smile on your face as you held up his newer copy of Marceline Desbordes-Valmore’s book of poetry. “Steven! Hi! I finally got around to reading this, but I have to say that I don’t exactly ge-”

Your words were abruptly cut off when Steven dragged you into the apartment, shutting the door behind you. None of you were quite sure why he had done that, but now that he’s thinking about it, maybe Marc had been the reason for it all.

You hadn’t had enough time to properly introduce yourself to Layla, and likewise, because the moment your eyes lay upon her, you froze. Who was she?

The following events flew by too quickly for you to properly grasp at the time. The police knocking on the door, Steven gently urging you to hide, the police making accusations against him, then just silence.

By the time you believed that the coast was clear, they were gone. The police were gone. The woman was gone. Steven was gone. You had tried going around the area, searching through the different police stations for him, and you had even gone back to the museum to ask if they had changed their mind and were pressing charges. Sadly, nothing. He wasn’t at any of the police stations, nor did the museum change their minds. So you did the only thing you could do at the time. You waited.

You texted him, called him, and left voicemails for him. Hell, you even resorted to emailing him a couple of times, just to see if your messages would reach him. All your efforts were unanswered, and you truly had no idea of his whereabouts until he came back home to you.

Sure, you’d seen the news about the happenings in Cairo, but never in a million years would you have thought that your boyfriend was the one donning the white suit.

“Oh!” A smile graced your lips, having merely associated the name with the pretty girl who once stood in the apartment. “I remember her! She helped you guys out? That’s amazing!”

You were completely unaware that Steven left out an important detail: that Layla was his alter’s wife. In the short period that he had been gone and away from you, he had kissed her and had fallen in love with her too.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Days passed, and you had been invited to the apartment numerous times throughout the week, but you weren’t complaining. You missed Steven, quite frankly, you also wanted to know more about Marc. You had encountered him a couple times when he had been fronting, but your interactions never lasted too long. Steven was usually requested for control whenever you were around, but you were aware of his alter since Steven had explained that they recently learned how to become co-conscious. That didn’t mean that they knew every waking life of the other, but at least the blackouts and memory gaps have lessened considerably.

On random occasions, Steven would continue to tell you stories about what had taken place in Cairo. Some stories were repeats of what he had told you in previous days, while others were memories he had just remembered and wanted to tell you. Sometimes, he’d tell you his thoughts about the event or other questions he had, only to piece the answer together halfway through asking you.

It was the simple moments like these that made you happy, really. To have Steven beside you on the bed, rambling about anything that came to his mind. You didn’t mind when he would tell you a story he had already told you, and you definitely didn’t mind when he would go into the technicalities of the event.

Though, there was one thing you noticed to have become a recurring topic: Layla. He would bring her up unconsciously, really, or at least, that’s what you would want to believe. But as the days passed, her name frequented his lips more often, and it felt different. It was almost as if he asked you about her daily, bringing her up as if she was the only waking thought he had. If it weren’t for the accent, you would have honestly thought Marc was fronting. She was his friend first, right?

“Do you think she’s okay? I-I mean, Marc and I were Khonshu‘s avatar, and he was just downright manipulative.” He turned his head to glance at you, “Taweret… Taweret, on the other hand… we met in that afterlife I told you about, yeah? She seemed nice. Helped us escape the Duat and all that, but… I just can't help but wonder, you know? Do you think Taweret is treating her right?” His question remained unanswered as he turned his gaze back up to the ceiling of his apartment, his fingers intertwined and resting on the soft flesh of his stomach.

You were lying on your side as you looked at him, heart clenching in your chest as you studied the way his eyes shone under the moonlight. It took you a couple of seconds before you were able to bring yourself to nod slowly, swallowing the lump that you hadn’t noticed formed in your throat.

“I’m sure she’s doing alright, Steven. She does sound pretty badass, yeah? She’s saved you and Marc quite a lot, hasn’t she?” Your voice was small as you replied to him, a wave of insecurity wafting over you as things began clicking together in your brain.

“Yeah? Yeah. She did save us when she freed Khonshu! I swear, though, you should’ve seen her in her armor, love! She looked amazing. I don’t even think I was able to greet her properly, really. Could you believe that? Marc and I were conversing about it the other day, right? And…”

You toned out his words as you continued to observe the way his mouth moved, how his lips flicked up to a gentle smile as he talked about her, and how he continued to ramble on and on about her. Utterly oblivious to your thoughts, more so to your feelings. You’ve seen this kind of look before.

To be fair, you had been thinking about it for a while. You tried convincing yourself that she had just become a close friend that he began to care about. That he was just concerned about her well-being since she had agreed to become an avatar of an Egyptian goddess, and he nor Marc didn’t exactly have the best time as Khonshu’s avatar. However, the more you studied his words and actions, things became clearer and clearer. It wasn’t until a gentle call of your name snapped you out of your thoughts, causing your eyes to lock with Steven’s worried ones.

“You… Are you in love, Steven?” You dared to ask, causing silence to fill the room once again. A silence that lasted a couple moments as Steven furrowed his brows, and his hesitation in giving you an answer was already an answer itself.

The more he talked about her, the more you were able to analyze his reactions and facial expressions and damn yourself for having seen that look in the past. Damn yourself for recognizing it.

You’ve seen it in the way your father looked at your mother. You saw it in the way your best friend’s spouse looked at them on their wedding day. You recognized it because it was the same look he used to have when he would talk about you.

“What?” He asked, confusion filling his expressions as he shifted on the bed to bring all of his attention to you. “Of course, I’m in love, sweetheart. I’m in love with you.”

Normally, his expression of love would have you all shy and red in the cheeks, but that wasn’t the case this time. “It’s just…” you frowned, bringing your attention to the ceiling. Roles had been reversed at this point, with you on your back and Steven on his side, facing you. “I’ve seen this look of yours before, you know? It’s the look of a man who’s fallen in love…” your voice trailed off at the end, pursing your lips as you tried to get your emotions in check. The can of worms has been opened, right? There isn’t much of a way back from it now. “It’s the look you used to have for me.”

Steven frowned as well. “Used to have? Darling, I don’t know what you’re going on about?”

You chose to ignore his comment, another question leaving your lips before you could even process the thought.

“Who is she to you, Steven? Who is Layla to you?” There was a slight shake in your tone, “You.. You said she’s a friend of Marc, yeah? But who is she to you?”

His eyes softened at the question, pursing his lips in response. If he were to be honest with you, he didn’t know who she was to him at this point. Was he attracted to her? Had he actually fallen in love with her in that quick of a timeframe?

Steven had always prided himself in the fact that he didn’t fall in love too quickly. Sure, he had casual crushes from the museum and friend crushes around the town, but this was different–Layla was different.

His brain often short-circuited when he was around her, and he just couldn’t help but admire everything about her. Maybe it was their shared interest in hieroglyphics and astronomy, or maybe it was something about her beauty in general, or maybe something about her intelligence and the way she was always there. She understood him, and she fought for him too. However, there was one thing he was sure of–she was Marc’s wife, not just a friend like he made it out to be.

But deep down inside him, he knew that he had fallen for her. He technically did confirm it back in one of those tents in Cairo, didn’t he? When Marc interrogated him about being in love with his wife? He hadn’t verbally answered the question, but his actions were enough for Marc to know that he had. The kiss he shared with Layla was also enough for him to know that he had.

Steven’s lack of response broke your heart, to say the least. The lack of a verbal response already served as the answer you hoped you wouldn’t have to receive from him.

The silence between you two didn’t last as long as you thought it would, having a sigh leave his lips as he brought his arm over his eyes.

“I-I don’t know.”

His words brought your attention to him once more, seeing his body tense up as he gulped. You should have played it off and moved on by this point, right? But you couldn’t. Not when his body language told you more than enough. You sensed the truth in his statement; you’d give him that. But at the same time, you also felt the conflict that was arising within him, and you knew that was because of you.

It definitely did not help your thoughts when he sniffled. Perhaps you were missing the bigger picture? Fuck. Maybe you overreacted? Had you offended him?

“Shit. Wait, lovie–I’m sorry. We can drop it, yeah?” You offered, sitting up abruptly and moving closer to him so you could lift his arm from his face, your heart breaking at the sight of tears rimming at the corners of his eyes. “I just… You were gone for so long and since you came back, you’d always just bring her up and I was just curious.”

Steven sat up as well, and your hand moved to cup his cheek, causing him to lean in against your touch. “That’s all. But I believe you, okay, lovie? I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry..”

The thing is, you and Steven barely got into misunderstandings, and on the rare occasion that you did, whoever was in the wrong would apologize with a kiss. So that’s exactly what you intended to do. You moved closer and leaned in to press your lips to his, only for him to pull his head back slightly in hesitation–another event you weren’t prepared for.

Swallowing back a sob, his eyes bore into your saddened ones. Guilt overcame his features almost immediately at the sight. You at least deserved the truth, right?

“I… She isn’t… She isn’t just Marc’s friend.” He whispered, bringing his hand to cup your own when he felt your touch falter slightly.

You felt as if you already knew where this conversation was headed, based solely on how he was basically tiptoeing around you, but you desperately wished you were wrong. “I… Is there something else you’d like me to know, Steven?”

“Layla… She’s Marc’s wife, darling.”

Nothing could have prepared you for that. You would have at least thought that she was Marc’s girlfriend or something along those lines, but you never would have thought that the alter of the man you were dating was married.

“She’s…” your voice trailed off as your hand slowly dropped from his cheek, causing him to move quickly to take your hands back in his. “He… You knew about this? When did she tell you? Or when did Marc tell you?”

“She told me the day that we met… Marc wanted to get a divorce because Khonshu wanted to have her as his next avatar, but Marc never signed the papers.” He quickly explained, tilting his head slightly so he could meet your eyes when you shifted your attention to your hands in his. “She tried giving me the papers that day but I couldn’t sign them–”

That sentence alone made your eyes shoot up, locking with his. “You couldn’t sign them?” you breathed, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to grasp the information that was being handed to you. Shaking your head as your heart pounded against your chest, you continued, “You… You knew that she was Marc’s wife from the first day, yet you lied to me?”

He looked down at your hands, which he still held in his, as a response, his thumb moving in circles in an attempt to soothe you, as if it would do much.

You honestly did not have the energy to be mad at him. Technically speaking, he hadn’t done anything wrong either. Your relationship did not have a title, and while you were definitely past the ‘I love you’ stage, he wasn’t your boyfriend. Based on your knowledge, you don’t have high hopes that he will ever be either.

“You should have just told me. Hell, even just… not saying anything as a response would have sufficed as an answer.” Was all you could bring yourself to say after a couple moments of not saying anything to one another. Your words were leaving your mouth slowly as if articulating every single word you were about to say. “Lying… Lying isn’t better than silence, Steven. I-I would have understood… I mean, it was coming, wasn’t it?”

His head shot up at that, and his gaze met with yours once more. “Wha-”

It was your turn to cut him off. “Do you love her, Steven?” You asked once more, a small smile gracing your lips. If he hadn’t known you as well as he did, he would’ve been convinced that you were okay, but he knew better than that.

You were convinced that you would be met with another round of silence, but you were mistaken.

“I-I think I do…?” He mumbled softly, gritting his teeth as he shook his head. You weren’t quite sure what his head shake was in response to, but you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to even process the action. “I don’t know, I can’t–You’re my first love, darling, I swear–”

His words turned into incoherent mumbles as he desperately tried to find the words to explain himself. To explain his feelings in a way that would hurt you in the least brutal way possible, but no matter how he chooses to explain it, his words are bound to hurt.

“I may be your first, but that’s all I’ll ever be, yeah?” Your voice was almost as soft as a whisper as you gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “And it doesn’t matter though, does it, Steven? It doesn’t matter if I'm your first, I-I’ll never be your last. I’ll never be your only.” Maybe you were rambling at this point, but everything was crashing down around you. The man you had been waiting on, the relationship you were clinging on to, and everything you have come to love was slipping through your fingers so quickly. To make things worse, your acceptance of it all merely serves as the catalyst to the inevitable end.

“I’m never going to make you choose, lovie… You know that, right?” A tear found its way down your cheek as you brought his hand to your lips to give it a gentle, lingering kiss. “It’s okay, Steven.”

He felt unworthy of you, to say the least. You deserved so much more than a man who leaves without a trace and whose loyalty did not fully reside with you. The memory of the kiss he shared with Layla plagues his mind, and the confession burns in his throat as he wonders if it's even worth it to tell you–to break your heart more than he already has.

“I’ve always considered myself lucky to have you, you know? It just… our whole relationship felt so good. Too good, actually.” You smiled sadly, tears brimming the corners of your eyes as you forced yourself to look at the man you love. The one you allowed yourself to fall for so recklessly with the hope that maybe, just maybe, he would love you back, even if just half as much as you did him. “She made–no, she makes you happy, doesn’t she? She kept you safe and fought for you. She saved you, and I just…”

Steven’s eyes shut tightly at your words, shaking his head rapidly as he desperately tried to think of the words to say to you. “It wasn’t on you, darling… Please don’t blame yourself for this.”

His response was typical, but you couldn’t blame him. “I don’t blame anyone for this, Steven, okay?” Your tone was free from any malice or bitterness, but the sadness that laced your words was still quite evident. “I could never hate anyone who makes you feel safe and happy, you know that. The only thing I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Steven, and if she makes you happier than I ever could, then….”

“No.” The fact that you couldn’t even bring yourself to finish that sentence broke him. His head continued to shake as if to convince himself that this isn’t happening to him, that you weren’t actually considering leaving him. He is well aware that you deserve better, but could anyone blame him for being selfish? After everything he’s been through? And after everyone he’s lost? “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

Your hand reaches up to cup his cheek once more, your thumb gently grazing his skin as your eyes drink up the sight of him. Memorizing him. Every single bump and wrinkle. Every single self-acclaimed imperfection, in Steven's opinion. Every single thing that made him Steven and made you love him even more. “I love you, Steven Grant. I love every single bit of you, and I hope you never forget that.”

Your insecurities were getting the best of you. How could they not? The woman he had fallen for was here in the room with you that fateful day and had followed him somehow. Helped him. Protected him. She had everything you didn’t–bravery, strength, the brain, the beauty. And to top it all off? She had him, whether she was aware of that fact or not, she had won Steven’s heart, probably the same way she had won Marc’s. How could you ever compete with that?

You laid a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, and his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. He was too engrossed in his thoughts to realize that you stood up, collecting the things that you had brought over for the day. He’s brought back to his senses when he hears you sniffle, and he genuinely wishes he could just take you back in his arms and make you forget that he hurt you. But he doesn’t deserve that, does he?

Instead, he chooses to repeat his question as he gets off the bed and walks over to you. “Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye?” He asks once more, dejection and defeat clouding his senses. His hands move to wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him in a tight hug, not wanting to let you go. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, but at the same time, he still doesn’t want to lose you.

You hadn’t made him choose between you and Layla because you made that choice for him, and you were letting him go. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to lose you, and at the same time, he didn’t want to lose Layla.

Your arms wrapped around him, holding him like a lifeline-your lifeline. A slow nod from you caused his grip on your figure to tighten as he felt your movement, a new wave of tears accompanying the gesture. “Could you do something for me, Steven?”

There were so many questions taking over your thoughts at the moment:

Why couldn’t you be good enough? How were you going to move on? Why were you stupid enough to think that this would last forever? When did he fall out of love with you?

Instead, you chose something else. A question that hurt him more than it hurt you. “Tell me more about her. Just so I know that I’m leaving you with someone who could love you as much as I could.”

His grip tightened even more at your request. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you more about her, even if he had talked about her too many times in the past couple of days. He couldn’t do it because he knew that this was your way of seeing how you could have been better for him, where you lacked in your relationship. But the thing is, you never lacked in any aspect–you were perfect, and he doesn’t deserve you.

A shake of his head was the only response he could give you, causing you to sigh as you gently pulled away from his grasp. It didn’t work though, since his arms were still firmly planted around your waist, but you were pulled apart enough for you to see his face.

Cupping his cheek once more, you leaned your forehead against his. “Kiss me? Just… Just one last time, Steven. Please.”

And he did. He pressed his lips against yours in a kiss that would be engraved in your memory forever. A kiss that captured feelings of love, regret, selfishness, and sorrow. A kiss that would be the last of the memories you would share with him in thirteen months you had known each other. A kiss that would ultimately be your last with the man you have grown to love despite the hardships and heartbreak that came with being with him. You never would’ve thought that you and Steven would have your last kiss like this.

“How lucky am I to have someone that makes saying goodbye so hard?” You forced out a laugh, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your forehead against his once more. A sad smile graced your lips as your thumb gently wipes away the tears that have made it down his own cheeks. “I love you, and I'm just really grateful that I had you. Even if just for that couple of months that I did.”

Steven’s eyes drank you up the same way you had earlier, memorizing your features and everything about you. He just hates how the last memory he would have of you would be like this–with your heart broken because of him.

“Is it selfish if I ask you to stay?” He asked, his voice softer than it usually was when he was with you. And for fucks sake, you almost do, but you can’t.

“Oh, God, I wish I could.”

The line jogs his memory, causing his eyes to clench shut. His tears were freely streaming down his face at this point, and he knew he looked like a mess, but he didn’t care.

“You were good to me, Steven Grant. Thank you.” You couldn’t find the words to say as you pressed your lips against his nose once more. “Thank you, lovie. For letting me love you the way I did.”

“Please don’t say goodbye.” A broken sob wrecks his lips as tries to convince you to stay, but he knew there was nothing he could do to make that happen. “I-I can’t lose you. Please. You promised.” It was selfish for him to pull this card on you, but believe it or not, he does love you. “You promised…”

Nonetheless, you nod slowly. If he doesn’t want to hear the goodbye, he doesn’t have to. But it doesn’t mean that this wasn’t the last time you would see him. He knows this.

“I’ll see you later then, yeah? When we meet again?”

He was shaking uncontrollably now, but he had to let you go the same way you were letting him go. Had roles been reversed, he would’ve done the same for you.

All he could muster was a nod as he forced himself to release you from his hold. He honestly hated how things went south so quickly, but he was to blame for that, wasn’t he?

He has to let you go.

“Laters, gators.”

A gentle kiss on the back of his hand, and a squeeze of reassurance were the last things he remembered before the door of his apartment shut behind you.

Steven was left in the same way you were when he had disappeared that night.

In silence.

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refiwrites · 2 years

Text

WAIT HOLD ON

THERE'S TWO NEW FISHES WITH TWO FINS AS WELL

SO, LIKE,, DID JAKE BOUGHT BOTH MARC AND STEVEN A FISH? 😭

and oh my god I wonder if Jake took control one time then just found the fish floating, not making any movement and jake just

face palms

BUT THEN IMAGINE JAKE GOING TO THE PET SHOP DEMANDING TWO FISHES WITH TWO FINS HELP—

Jake: Look, lady. D'you have those goldfish with two fins? A pair of them? I need em quick.

The woman in the pet shop confused as fuck cause hadn't he just been here two times a week ago????: No? Sir, you've been here before demanding I give you a fish with one fin, now you want two with two fins?

Jake: Oh, well, yeah I want two. Just a little peace offering s'all.

CURRENTLY DYING RN

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jayflrt · 7 months

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𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐒 22. heejake support group for heejake victims

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.

#warning this is not an accurate representation of the real LAYLA (adorable cute all the good in the world)#enhypen #enhypen smau #heeseung smau #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung #enhypen social media au #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #heeseung scenarios #enhypen drabbles #heeseung drabbles #enhypen reactions #heeseung reactions

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sea-lanterns · 10 months

Note

i feel like dehya and beidou would team up on you sometimes and beidou would be pounding you with a strap while dehya shoves her fingers into your mouth having a viberating anal plug in your ass

or maybe miko and lisa two hot women flirty and smart but mikos manipulative right so she’d probably manipulate you into something like sex on accident (she didnt mean it!!) and then lisa would walk in and probably pull mikos fox ear away from your pussy and she’ll probably punish you for being so gullible

then oo layla and ganyu both sleepyheads who want pleasure, ganyu and you would probably scisscor due to laylas weak stamina and layla will probably be on ganyus face only reciving a reward till you say so <3

-🦊

that layla and ganyu pairing has me drooling 🦊 anon. you don’t understand how much i love rarepair threesomes, especially with characters that are never seen together but work really well when you think about it.

also, this thirst is pretty long just because i got so carried away

nsfw under the cut—————————

dehya and beidou are two of the strongest women in the game. so of course a threesome with them can only end in one thing: manhandling. oh, it doesn’t matter how tall or big you may be, these two women will toss you around between them like a rag doll and take turns fucking a huge silicone cock into you. the strap is definitely something beidou brought to the table, but dehya brings her fair share of pleasantries too. she’s the one who brought the vibrator after all…

beidou has you bouncing on her cock with large hands gripping your hips upright, while dehya is currently mumbling sweet praises into your ear as she presses the vibrator against your clit. one of her fingers is circling the entrance where you and beidou were connected, and scooping up the leaking cum like it was a delicacy not meant to be wasted. “look, you got ‘em creaming all over you…” dehya chuckles lightly, “your time is up by the way, let me fuck ‘er brains out…”

beidou grunts as you’re pulled off her cock by dehya’s strong grip. her arms pulling you towards her lap and manhandling you like a toy between the kids who don’t want to share. “you ruined her orgasm you know…” beidou scoffs, a smirk growing on her face, “you better fuck twice as good as me…”

“I am twice as good…” dehya shoots back playfully, hands spreading your thighs apart before rubbing your folds together with two giant fingers. “watch.”

and then dehya proceeded to plunge two rough fingers into your already dripping hole. the sudden penetration making you gasp in pleasure before falling forward and landing on beidou’s muscular front. “tsk tsk, seems they’re just aching to crawl back to me…” beidou laughs, gripping your hair and moving your head down to meet eye level with her cock. “clean it off, pretty. you’re the one who soiled it…”

before you could even move, dehya’s strong arms wrap around your waist and smush you closer to beidou while she fingers your cunt roughly. effectively sandwiching you between them as you could feel every movement and flex of their sheen muscle.

“go on pretty, suck the captain’s cock off…” dehya chuckles, before helping move your lips down to wrap around beidou’s strap. both women’s arms holding you up securely as if you were nothing but a little rag doll to be tossed around and played with.

miko and lisa are two of the most seductive and flirty women in teyvat and you bet they use this to their advantage. they could turn you into a sex-drunk mess in a matter of minutes and it’s something they’re both equally proud of as your partners.

miko is usually the orchestrator of your sessions. all she has to do is whisper a few dirty things in your ear and— oh! you’re already dripping, how cute! the guuji is flattered her words make you wet already and she can’t contain herself as she has you pushed down on the flat of her desk and tongue already pushed inside you. “mmf…what a naughty pet…” she can’t help but purr, trying to smush her face deeper into your folds as she just can’t get enough of you.

meanwhile, lisa is watching all of this go down from the doorway with a smile. she’s so amused (and turned on) at the sight of her two precious babies having sex right in the open just for her. “both of you are naughty pets…” lisa chuckles as she walks in, gloved hand running down miko’s scalp and yanking her away from her pussy. the guuji’s face all covered in cum and saliva as she pants and drools to keep going inside you.

“lisa…” an annoyed expression overcomes the frustrated kitsune. “let me go.”

“hush, pet.” lisa says gently, although her eyes say otherwise. “it isn’t nice to leave your other partner out of the fun now is it?”

miko let’s out a surprised yelp as lisa yanks her back further and takes her place between your legs, “your punishment is to watch, miko and you…” lisa smirks up at you before slowly sliding her tongue up your cunt, a shiver running down your spine.

“yours is to just take it all.”

layla and ganyu are two of the most sleepiest and subbiest women you’ve ever had the dream of dating. they’re both so soft and needy and when you’re not around they try their best to get each other off but it’s not the same :(

you oftentimes find yourself coming home to see the two of them desperately trying to rut and scissor against each other but it’s no use. layla’s soft and tired whines as she’s on the verge of falling asleep. meanwhile ganyu is trying to take the lead but unable to because she also is quite tired.

the moment they spot you they both whine at the same time and ganyu plops over in exhaustion on top of layla. both of their chests rising and falling in sync as they both await their desperate release from you. “you’re back, finally…” ganyu pants, raising an arm towards you. “please help…we need you…”

and so there you were, ganyu eagerly riding on your fingers while cute little layla sat so sleepily on top of your face. the two women so close to passing out but so close to cumming that they are practically gripping onto you like their life depended on it.

“nngh…more…more…” layla mumbles brokenly, hands tangled in your hair as your tongue pushes forward into her soft little hole. her needy little whines making you so turned on as you couldn’t help but let your fingers twitch inside your other girlfriend as well.

ganyu gasps and clings onto your arm with a death grip while bouncing her hips to the set rhythm. both of your girls were just so edged on and sensitive that all it took was a few minutes with you and you both had them creaming all over your body. sleepy little moans emitting from them before they both fell over and laid beside you.

ganyu on your right with layla on your left…

#🫧hydration station #🦊 anon #beidou smut #beidou x reader #dehya smut #dehya x reader #yae miko smut #yae miko x reader #lisa minci smut #genshin lisa x reader #genshin lisa smut #layla smut #layla x reader #ganyu smut #ganyu x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin women x reader #genshin women smut

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2800 · 6 months

Text

Pictures that Jake sends to you as your boyfriend; a thread 🧡

<3 bonus: how he looks like while texting you 🧡

hyung line: jake jay heeseung sunghoon maknae line: ni-ki jungwon sunoo

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mochimoqa · 17 days

Note

Hiii I just recently hurt myself accidentally while cooking 😭 so can I request how would you write any of the Moon Boys comforting the reader who feels insecure of scars or marks on their body. Would appreciate it a lot 💗

Hello, anon!

I'm so sorry that you hurt yourself :(

But nothing like a good moon boys x reader will fix that :]

WARNING: Some cursing and Intense Fluff 🤭

...

"OW- Fucking shit-" Y/n screamed at the pain of extreme heat touching their skin. You turned off the stove and went to the restroom to grab your mini med kit.

"Son of a b—" You mumbled to yourself.

You've gotten hurt plenty of times. Either from cooking, activities, etc. You've gotten insecure over the years because of the scars and marks from different activities.

The one time where you were frying chicken and the hot oil splutter on your skin. Leaving some marks on you.

You turned on the cold water from your sink and let the burn somewhat fix the burn.

You sat on the floor and opened the med kit. The irritation of your skin was a bit bad. You grabbed some aloe gel and gently placed it on your burn.

"Ow-" You winced at the pain.

While you were doing this treatment, you heard a knock at the door.

Keys jangling and swung open the door.

"Love, I'm home!"

Oh, goodie! Steven's here.

"Ah, shit-" You panicked and quickly hid the medical supplies.

"Love? Y/n! Where are you?" He was pacing around the house til he found you in the bathroom.

You were covering your hand behind your back.

"Ah, there you are! Marc, Jake and I started to become a little worried there." He hugged you tightly and kissed your forehead.

"No, no, I'm always here, baby." You chuckled nervously.

Steven cupped your face and looked into your eyes. God, his cute dark eyes always get to you.

"I feel like you're hiding something..."

Your eyes widened slightly and chuckled nervously.

"What? No-"

He squeezes your face a bit tight.

You instantly knew that this wasn't Steven anymore and it was Marc. Steven was the more gentle of the boys.

"Y/n, I know you're lying to me."

"I- no, I'm not-"

"Yes, you are."

Shit, you've been caught red-handed. (No pun intended.)

"Okay, fine. You got me." You put your burned hand in front of him.

"I burned myself while cooking..."

God, this was so embarrassing to you. You've had too many scars and marks on yourself, you thought for sure they were gonna leave you.

"The burn doesn't look too bad." He grabbed your hand and examined the injury.

"Huh? You- You're not gonna leave me?"

His eyes shot up to you.

"Why would I ever wanna do that?"

"I- because of all of the scars and marks I have on my body... you don't think it's embarrassing?"

"No?"

Marc paused for a moment and seeming zoned out. He was probably talking to Steven and Jake.

"Steven said that he would never leave you."

He looked at your wound and paused again.

"Jake said that he would be stupid to even do that."

You chuckled lightly at their responses.

"Really?" You sighed and leaned against the sink.

"Mhm, and I agree with the both of 'em. You're literally too good to be true, Y/n. Sometimes me and the boys don't even know of how lucky we are to have you."

"But what about my scars?–"

"The scars don't matter. We love you with or without any scars or marks."

He paused again.

"Jake wants to take control to get rid of that stupid stuff you said about yourself."

You sighed, "Alright, bring him out..."

You felt your hand being squeezed.

"Hola, mi amor." (Hey, my love.) He kissed your hand.

You smiled lightly. "Hey, baby."

"So, what in the wrong fucking mindset are you even in?"

"Uh, I don’t know... I just thought that the three of you were gonna leave me and—"

"Esa es la cosa más estúpida que he oído jamás". (That is the most stupidest thing I have ever heard.)

"I know..."

"Cariño, we will love you til the end."

"Thank you, baby... thank you to the three of you..."

"No hay problema, bebé. (No problem, baby.)

"Want me to fix you up?"

You nodded. "That would be wonderful..."

Hello! I hope you enjoyed this! I absolutely love writing Fluff so this was by far the most exciting story to work on!

Also, very sorry for not posting sooner I had a lot of exams so I didn't have time to post this story!

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jake-g-lockley · 1 year

Text

Worthy Distraction (Marc Spector x reader)

Masterlist | Playlist

A/N: I just wanted to write some Marc Spector fluff to calm my brain. Also Marc Spector’s unruly curls are the love of my fucking life ugh

Word Count: 913 words

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc groans again, running his hand through his curls. This was the fifth or sixth time he had run his hands through his curls in pure frustration as they flopped hopelessly down onto his face.

You glare at him, the action of him constantly running his hands through his hair has been a worthy distraction, pulling you away from the work that you were doing and sending you staring straight at your best friend.

His handsome face was contorted into a look of concentration, eyebrows pulled down low and his mouth set into a magnificent frown that made him extra adorable. He was hunching over the book he was reading, finger skimming over the words as he gripped the pencil he was holding with determination.

You had invited him to the library so that you could spend some time with him as well as get your thesis done. The table that the both of you were using had snacks, papers, cups of coffee and books scattered all over it and you were sitting across from him.

The reality with this whole situation was that you were in love with Marc. You knew a little about his past and you knew about Steven and Jake, but even so, you had found every reason to still let yourself fall in love with him. He trusted you and when he began to open up, you felt him being vulnerable to you and that opened a whole new can of beans in your head.

Besides, you couldn’t deny that your best friend had a face worthy of the gods. He was hot and all you wanted to do was to kiss his nose and the frown line between his eyebrows.

He raised his hand up to his hair again and you stood up in frustration, slamming your hands down onto the table, scaring him and making him jump out of his seat.

“WHAT?!” he whisper-shouted, staring at you.

“Stop doing whatever you’re doing, it’s distracting me!” you whisper-shouted back, pointing at his hair. “You and your stupid hair, it’s just so…”

Your trail of, as Marc blinks up at you, a boyish smile gracing his face.

“What are you smiling at?” You questioned, folding your arms across your chest.

“At the fact that you’re looking at me instead of doing your work?” He answered, the smile somehow turning smug.

“That’s- That’s the whole point Marc, you’re really just distracting! Why can’t you stop fidgeting?” you said, groaning and rubbing your face with your hands.

“I can’t help it, my hair is too long and Steven won’t let me cut our hair.” he muttered, doing it again as his curls flopped back down onto his forehead.

“Well, think of something!” you warned giving him a stern look.

“You have to stop being so mean to me, you know? Or, I swear to god…” he trailed off, closing his book.

“You swear to god what, huh?” you push, putting your hands on your hips.

Marc stood up and walked to where you were standing, tipping his chin down slightly to look at you, making your breath hitch slightly and your glare wavered for a second. He was too close. You could see every detail on his face from this angle, every curve, every stubble and every inch of skin that you’d want your lips on. His lashes were long and his eyebags were prominent but it only made him look more beautiful and rugged. One of his hands cradled your face and the other reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair that curved down from your head.

“As if touching his own hair wasn’t enough, now he’s touching mine.” you thought as you gazed into his eyes.

“I swear to god, I will fall in love with you.” he breathed.

Your eyes widened and your gaze dropped to his lips, wondering if the both of you had the same thoughts. Your theory had been proven correct when Marc took a single step closer and let his lips fall onto yours, tilting his head slightly so that his nose didn’t bump yours. He kissed your lips softly and unhurriedly, ensuring you that he’d give you all the time in this world.

The both of you pull away slowly and you bite your lip and watch Marc from under your lashes. He was smiling, a light pink tinge covering the bridge of his nose, making him look so kiss-drunk.

“Damn Marc,” you said, a little lost for words.

“I had to do it, you just look so fuckin’ hot when you’re frustrated.” he chuckled, kissing your cheek.

You laugh softly, kissing his forehead, his nose and then his lips for one final assurance.

“Wait, let me fix your hair.” you mutter, curling a finger under his chin and tipping it up so that you can adjust the mane on his head.

You pulled out a few pins from your own hair and flattened his curls, pinning them in place before holding out your phone for him to see. Marc grins at your masterpiece and you hold out your hand for him to take, leading him back to the bench and tucking his hand and your hand into your hoodie pocket while you get back to work.

Marc fell asleep after a while, his arms around you and his face slotted into your neck, the soft whoosh of his breath on your skin providing you solace as you typed away.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Reblogs are appreciated <3 love you all so so much *muah*

Tagging my babies: @mintpurplemnm @lia275 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @brekkers-desigirl @romanarose @melodygatesauthor @welcometostayingawake @campingwiththecharmings (also this fic doubles as a present for surviving the MK foot anon)

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