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januaryembrs · 7 months

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LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Reader [8]

description: Dove, Marc and Layla escape Mogart’s with only more dead ends and questions unanswered. They’re running out of time before Harrow reaches the tomb, but one thing keeps sticking in Layla’s head more than the rest.

Why does Dove look so guilty?

word count: 10.8k

trigger warnings: blood, gore, violence. Knives, stabbing. Drowning. Hints of domestic abuse/grooming. Minors DNI. [Based on Last Night in Soho dir. Edgar Wright]

main masterlist | series masterlist

There was always a moment when Frank would let go of her head and she would emerge from under the water, her chest taking in deep breath, choking on the bath water, her throat heaving. There was the moment she felt as if she was dragged from the very worst thoughts, if this would be her last moments, drowned in a fucking tub of all things, and she would finally breath air and be left with the even worse feeling of fear seeing him smirking down at her.

Being dragged out of her stupid little head felt something like that.

She had been buried too deep in a haunted house, in ghost thoughts, to realise the sheer chaos happening around her. Harrow had destroyed the sarcophagus with the same purple light that had summoned the jackals, the spell pouring vibrant dust out of his staff.

The wind whipped around them, Khonshu standing watch over them from the crescent roof, his own anger swaying the trees and string lights around them, the bulbs themselves flickering as if also in tune with the God’s waning temper.

She watched Harrow scurrying away, his snide smile cutting through her like a blade, like a shard of glass, and it was only then that she realised Mogart’s men seemed to be scrambling for their weapons. The rats are always the first to abandon ship, she thought bitterly.

“Hey, he’s gone!” One called, making her whirl around for the source of the commotion.

Sure enough, Marc had disappeared, her heart dropping at the sight of it. He wouldn’t leave her here, would he? Surely-

She reached for Layla, knowing she’d be the only thing to save the woman if the men went for the triggers. Layla had no healing armour or protection from a higher god, and despite the woman’s independent nature, she wouldn’t forgive herself if she let her fend off the dozen men alone.

She prepared herself for a fight as the guns were drawn, squeezing her fists tightly as she begged her own suit to appear. Her eyes scrunched shut, willing it to cover her as it had before when she’d nearly ripped Harrow’s face apart inside the pyramid, though she felt no difference. Ofcourse, it was just her luck that the one time she needed it, she struggled to summon her suit.

She was aware of the irony, and was sure it was her god teaching her a lesson.

Hearing the men gasp amongst themselves, her eyes snapped open, looking down at her chest, only to see her flaunted breasts still staring back at her, mocking her for wanting it gone. You wish to be a hero, but you’re no more than a body. A thing for them to look at. Nothing more.

The frustration read clear on her face, her cheeks hot with panic, that is until she looked towards the source of the murmurs, her eyes locking on top of the glass pyramid at the entirely white figure staring down at them, its eyes pale moons that watched her carefully.

Marc. It was Marc. Ofcourse it was, because he’d rather die than ever let them have her and Layla.

The last time she’d seen him like that was the night at the museum, that first time she’d been in his arms, been at his mercy. She remembered the way he held her in a way no one had ever been so kind to, she was sure such a gentle hand had never existed. Not on anyone but Grace. Not anyone but Steven.

And with that it was like a thread had snapped.

Anton’s bodyguard was the first to move. Grabbing the young man by the scruff of his robe, he shoved the millionaire under his arm, manhandling him out of the way of danger.

It took two of Marc’s crescent moon shaped weapons to go whistling past her face before she felt herself jump into her own body, as if she’d been watching from the back seat until then.

The trigger had been pulled on her own body's defence the moment the guard pointed his pistol to Marc, she felt her suit slink over her shoulders, melting down her arms like a creature growing life. And the best part of all; with it came no feeling of being dislodged from her body. With it came consciousness, control. The ability to decide how her body was to be used in this fight.

Which then begged the question: how was she to fight? She’d grown up in a rough neighbourhood and had the odd scrap at school, but armed guards? This was new territory.

Marc seemed to have the weapon under control on his own however as he leapt from the building and kicked the guard square in the chest, the gun flying from his grasp. It didn’t stop her from tackling the next guard who raised his own gun to the suited man, though with little to no experience fighting, just the instinct to protect him, she simply took him down to the ground, serving him a sharp jab to the nose that seemed to stun him and kicked his weapon towards Layla, who scrambled to grab it.

The screams of the party goers met her ears, the rushed footsteps heading either to their vehicles or to any spare boats, realising their situation was not just a little catfight but more an armed brawl.

Layla shot at the two men that emerged from the mansion, slipping past Anton, who cowered behind his security guard like a child, the suave attitude long gone from the man. She seemed more than comfortable with the handgun, Dove quickly noted, though she was also fast to hear the queue of bodies that approached them, the clicks of ammunition falling into barrels meeting her sensitive ears.

That had her head whipping around.

There, slinking over the sand of the pony pit, stood at least twenty men approaching the three of them with deadly focus.

“Shit,” She cursed, looking to Marc all but a second too late. The pop of the bullets being released from their chambers had her wincing, turning away as if that would defend her at all were she to get shot. Was she bulletproof like Marc? Or would Seth allow her some bloodshed to teach her yet another lesson of taking his powers for granted?

As if he had heard her question, she felt a splinting pain slash through the back of her leg, the sharp feeling dragging a grunt up her throat. Bearable, but a horrid sting, as if she’d been shot by a paintball at close range. She was sure she would have a bruise there soon, but a bruise was better than a bullet hole, she supposed.

Eyes flicking up to where Marc stood over Layla, his cape a shield over the woman she watched as he looked up to her with narrowed eyes.

“You guys need to buy me some time,” Layla ordered, crouching low under the cape to make herself a smaller target.

“Is that you in there, princess, or have I got another problem on my hands?” He called over his shoulder, barely fazed by the bullets clinging to his suit.

“It’s me, I’m fine,” She promised, feeling another shell smacking into her stomach with a hidden grunt, “The suit is working just fine,”

Marc nodded to himself, chewing his tongue behind his mask.

“I don’t suppose you’d listen to me if I told you to leave with Layla and get to safety, huh?” He said emptily, wincing as the guards got close enough to feel the bullets graze past them.

“Don’t waste your breath,” She snipped, looking down at Layla, the same thought passing between the two of them.

“If you die on me, princess, I might have to murder you,” Layla called to her, earning a small smile, and the three of them sprang into action.

Marc flicked the bullets that embedded in his suit right back at their senders, hard enough to take down half of them men advancing on them, the other half seeming to pause to reconsider their attack.

But by that point, the two of them had vaulted over the fence and were heading at full pelt towards their assailants.

“Aim for the chin, sweetheart, chin and nose,” Marc called, his moon shaped blade back firmly in his hand like a set of brass knuckles, slicing through their kevlar with every swipe. He swiped at one hard across the face, deep enough to ward him off, spinning quickly to throw the blade into another one’s chest cavity.

“Chin and nose, got it,” She said, wrestling her arm out of one of their grasps with a quick elbow to the stomach, driving her fist up into his nose cartilage with a hard punch.

The man cried out in shock, his nose spurting with a river of blood almost instantly.

“Sor-SORRY,” She said, her fist meeting another one under his chin in a hard uppercut, the force of it snapping his teeth together, his head rattling in an ache from the damage. She wouldn’t be surprised if his jaw had popped out of place.

“Stop apologising to them,” Marc yelled incredulously, kneeing another one in the gut, throwing him to the ground as he grabbed the other by his outstretched arm, twisting it behind his back with a force that ripped apart every tendon attached, “They’re trying to kill us,”

“But I am sorry- SORRY” She called back, throwing a punch to another one’s cheek so far off form, had her super strength not been so vicious she would have been screwed. Marc would need to show her how to fight properly, he noted in his mind, though he had hoped with everything in him that it would have never come to this.

He’d wanted to keep all the violence away from her. He didn’t need the same darkness that lingered over him to shower on her too.

Tackling two of the men on his own, he threw a kick to the first one’s chest as the other tried to grab him in a chokehold. It was a frivolous attempt however as Marc threw an elbow behind him, hard into the side of the guard’s temple which sent him down. The second one wasn’t so lucky. So bitter that that woman, his Dove, was fighting; was being shot at, being manhandled right in front of his eyes, the second guard to cross his path was nothing but an export for his rage.

He hated how moral she was, hated how it got her hurt, how it got her entangled in his mess. Yet it was one of his favourite things about her, how soft she was, how she would never leave anything, human or animal, to suffer, loved how she would always want good for him too. He didn’t deserve it. He had never deserved her. Never deserved the soft.

He had barely realised he had begun strangling the guard, his hands wrapped around the meat of his throat until he saw his face begin turning blue, and Steven’s voice had entered his head.

“Stop it, Marc,” Marc grunted in anger, it was all he could manage through the wave of rage he was sinking under, “No, Marc!”

As if to brush off Steven’s voice, Marc threw the man to the ground, spinning on his heels when he heard a gun cock behind him.

The guard shot a few rounds into the hard plate of his chest, not that he felt anything, watching her tussling with a man a few feet away, trying to wrangle his gun out of his hands before he could fire at her. Not that the bullets would do any lasting damage of course, but he felt his stomach drop all the same. He was quick to disarm the guard in front of him, watching the mans face contort into horror as the white eyed mercenary set his sights on him, a heavy hand coming out to grab the pistol with a bone breaking grip, ripping the thing from his fingers as if he were taking candy from a child. He grabbed the man by the jaw with the same crushing hold, feeling the guard whine under his malicious hand, writhing in pain.

Marc hated the part of himself that felt fulfilled seeing the ones who hurt her suffer themselves. He felt pleased. Felt warmed knowing he’d made them pay.

“Give me the body, Marc,” Steven hissed from inside the headspace. He felt his alter taking the reins, felt his consciousness slipping through his fingers despite his protest. But Steven was getting used to this now; he had been so caught up in protecting her he forgot about the one he was supposed to protect his whole life.

Marc’s eyes closed and Steven’s opened.

His hands went slack around the guard’s jaw that cracked under the pressure, the man’s entire body dropping in defeat.

“Oh! Sorry!” Steven’s soft voice rang out, a world away from the gravelly growl of Marc’s lilt. Leaning towards where the man groaned on the floor, clutching his face, he murmured “You alright? That’s it. Alright, time out!” He huffed, turning to the other guards circling him, their guns cocked at their sides, weighing up if they’d be the next to end up crumpled on the floor with broken bones.

He held his hands up in a T, “That’s it time out!” he called out, his white gloves soft against his rough hands. “Guys, let’s all calm down, yeah? Let’s all just like chill the F out-”

“Steven?”

Her voice was velvet. Worried. It robbed him of words immediately after so long not hearing his name from her mouth. It was an odd feeling being inside the body, a watcher of the world and not living in it. Watching the way she looked at Marc with such raw vulnerability, such glazed trust, how he saw her sadness much more frequently now.

His body betrayed him, freezing for a second before turning to her. But when he did, he was near robbed of breath too.

Her suit, the same one he’d seen on her the first time, the night she’d nearly killed him. Though that hadn’t been her. It wasn’t her. He’d have known her anywhere.

This one was the slightest bit different. Her muzzle was gone, her lips exposed, the shock evident on her face, mouth agape. Her eyes were hers again, not black soulless pits like when they were his. But hers, the ones he loved to stare at, the ones that looked at him with such cottony kindness he felt as if he would melt under her gaze like a pool of butter.

She looked at him as if seeing a ghost. He looked at her as if she had turned on the light in a dark room, as if she were a fog horn on a rough sea, as if she were dragging him from the depths of death single handedly.

For the first time in months he said her name. Her real name.

She cracked a smile, her eyes wetting, glossing with happiness. It was him.

“Steven!” She said, her teeth gleaming at him under the lamp light. Her eyebrows softened, her mask drawing away into her hairline as if she needed to see him fully, as if her body craved him so much even the smallest barrier was a nuisance. Taking a small breath to fight off the sob that crawled up her throat. She felt as if she would be okay now, as if he was her knight in white armour here to carry her from the mess she’d found herself in. Nothing made sense to her anymore, nothing except Steven. He always had a way of explaining everything that seemed to tick the right way in her brain.

His moonlight eyes blinked at her starrily, his rose lips curving into a smile.

The space between them was syrupy thick, it made the gulps of air all that more difficult to swallow.

His mouth dropped open to call her name, his foot shuffling forward to embrace her in the biggest hug he could manage. He’d needed her more than he’d needed air.

He couldn’t help the cry of horror that ripped from his throat when the spear was shoved through her stomach and she fell to her knees.

“Steven!” She yelped, watching as one of the riders rammed a lance through his thigh, another going through his collar bone. She grunted, the effort of calling for him constricting around the pole. It was a harsh ache, and it took everything in her not to panic that the healing armour would stop working, that Seth would want to watch her writhe in pain for a little longer.

But she felt her blood stem at the site, heard the pounding of hooves approaching the two of them, gasping as two more riders circled him, another of the wooden blades piercing his gut.

Glancing at her one more time, a whine pouring out his masked mouth as he watched her drop to her hands, one of the guards kicking her in the ribs, a rattling wheeze rolling from her lips, an attempt to conceal a grunt of pain. She didn’t want to worry him, didn’t want to give the guard the satisfaction of seeing her hurt.

Yet she felt another spearhead trace over the back of her neck, sensed the way his arm drew back to aim for a killing blow. And all she had the heart to do was to meet the white eyes that watched her sadly, knowing this was another goodbye one way or another.

“Take the body, Marc!” He yelled, groaning as a fourth spear took him to his own knees, his heart rolling in waves behind his chest, “Take the body-take the body, Marc,”

Dove put a hand on the rod that pierced clean through her, feeling a wave of nausea constrict her throat when she saw the weapon peaking back out at her, the pointed tip of another blade stroking over her chin.

“Wait-Stop,” She choked, her breathing laboured by the terror that grabbed at her words, “Please,” She put her hand up, trying to hold off the attacker even the smallest amount. If he felt any guilt seeing her crumpled on the floor like a shot deer, pleading him to retreat, it never read on his face as he sneered, drawing back to seal the deal.

Marc felt as if he’d been dragged from dark waters when he opened his eyes once more and saw her moments from a grisly end. The weak look on her face was enough to have him ripping the spear from his own abdomen effortlessly, as if the feeling of it wasn't stomach wrenching. As if he wasn’t in imminent danger himself. He launched his moon blade into the guy's shoulder, the silver crescent lodging itself into the flesh, enough to deter her attacker for a moment and have him drop his weapon in a yelp of pain.

“Wait there, princess, I’ll be right-” He started, grunting as he pulled another of the rods out of his thigh, at least enough of it that he could move, “-right there,”

But then he saw it; Layla in Mogart’s line of fire, a bleeding welt on her face. Mogart atop a horse, one of his fine Arabian steeds, a spear in his hands, a nasty smirk on his face. Layla, who had no god to help her. Layla, who lay without armour. Layla, who wouldn’t survive a hit to the chest like the two of them would, had.

Dove followed his line of sight, hearing the voice that drew her back to reality, that had the guard second guessing whether it would be wise to wound her more when the man watching over her seemed intent on finishing him off. Seeing Layla on the ground, her eyes disorientated from the strike to the face, it seemed she felt the same pang of urgency to drop everything they were doing and save her, save her, she’s in danger and you need to save her-

“Layla!” She screeched, the dread meeting her expression at the sight of the man who had seemed so willing to bed her now vulturing around Layla’s forlorn body, stunned and immobile. Helpless. Perhaps this was how Marc felt when he found her in the museum, but a pit of anger, one she knew all too well, seemed to swallow her fear whole and all that was left when the wave retreated was vengeance.

Her attacker took it then was his time to strike, seeing her caught off guard, yanking the spear from her stomach, pulling the pointed end out of her flesh and turning it back to her throat as she yelped from the feeling. It hadn’t hurt nearly as much as it should have, but she felt bile rolling around her throat at the sight of her insides splayed out on the tip of the rod.

Yet all she could think about was Layla. Layla was in danger. Layla needed her.

The nausea turned to adrenaline as she kicked him hard in the shin from her place on the ground, grabbing the weapon to hold it away from where it swung close to her face, the sharpened end winking at her.

Scrambling to her feet, she threw her fist into his nose, hearing a satisfying crunch and a pig-like squeal to follow. Yanking the spear from his grip effortlessly, she swung the wooden end into his temple, watching it splint from the force and he was down like a sack of potatoes.

There was a moment then when she spun on her heel to witness the two men circling Layla, Mogart atop his brown gelding he had told her was one of his best. Something flickered in the warm, night air, something dark, this time without Khonshu’s influence.

She felt his hand on her back, his hand. The paw that played her strings, the claws that sunk deep into her.

“Not now,” She growled, her eyes locked on Mogart’s smarmy face, daring either her or Marc to take a step towards Layla. Horses were faster than human’s by a mile, especially the thoroughbreds he kept.

“You couldn’t save her, mutt,” His dark voice rattled down her spine, sucking the air out her lungs. He knew. He knew about Grace. No one else in the world knew about Grace. Grace was just for her. “You couldn’t save her, but you can save this one.”

“You think?” She whispered, not daring to check over her shoulder, his goliath face peering down at her, his snout washing cold breaths over her ear, her hair fluttering under its breeze. She didn’t think she could stand to lose another friend, if she could even call Layla that. Either way, the blood staining her hands, the lives gone because of her.

She could have stayed with her brothers and avoided all of this mess, could have been there to see Mikey through rehab, not just dumped him there and left.

She should have tried harder to save Grace.

She would fight tooth and nail to save Layla.

“Yes, little pup.” He eased, his cold claws stroking down her collarbone, almost comforting, almost a phantom over her shoulder, “It is not wrong to want retribution. What he took from you, it is a debt you will never have cleared.”

She hated how much he sounded like a voice of wisdom. Hated how he seemed to worm his way into her head and draw out her own thoughts, make them sound reasonable.

“You could save this one, if you give into the chaos. Let him have exactly what he deserves. He wished to buy you, use you. And now he wishes to slaughter her in front of your very eyes.” Seth’s voice was a snarl, a mirror image of the anger that built in her when his dark eyes flickered over to her, his mouth drawing up into a nasty smirk.

She hated to say it, but he was right. Seth was right. He deserved her worst.

Seth chuckled, watching her eyes darken with fury, a fog of bedlam filling the air.

“Now, little beast,” Seth whispered, retracting his paw from her arm, her mask slipping back over her face to cover the delicacy of her temples, “Go fetch,”

The three of them were silent in the truck. Layla’s face had been wiped clean thanks to the limited first aid kit shoved under the seat of the rental car. The wounds were mostly superficial, it was her head that had been rattled mostly. Shaken her hard enough to have taken her wit with it.

Layla’s memories flickered like a broken projector, glimpses of the moment the four of them crossed paths in the centre of the paddock. Marc tackling her out of the way of Mogart’s steed that would have done enough damage to her bones even without its rider's weapon. The sand flicking up around them as Hellhound dragged the wealthy man from his saddle, a spear piercing his thigh, his own rod yanked out of his grasp and tossed clear across the pit.

She watched Marc scramble to stop her from beating the life from him, heard Anton say something quietly to her, whatever humour he had left spent on pushing her over her limit. Watched her fists meet his cheek as she choked through tears, angry tears, salt that stung her superficial cuts on her cheek.

Dove didn’t want to think about it.

“Let’s play nicely now, and I might still consider paying for our night together,” He’d murmured, his dark eyes trailing over her face that gave away too easily her torment, her instability. Mouth drawing into a nasty sneer, she dug her claws into his collar bone, drawing a squeal from him. A pig set for slaughter.

“This body can be bought and sold all you like. But it is mine.” She hissed, the anger bubbling under her surface when he chuckled weakly opening his mouth to speak again. Only for her to bring her armoured knuckles across his cheekbone, hearing something crack under the weight of it.

And she didn’t stop. Not until she felt arms constrict around her shoulders, pinning her hands to her sides, thrashing under the grip. She hadn’t realised she was crying until she felt her hair stick to her face, the wetness she had assumed was sweat burning her eyes even more when she heard Marc talking to her once more.

“Stop, stop.” A calm utterance over her shoulder as he pulled her away, “That’s enough, princess, you got him. You got him.”

And then they were rushing into the car before more could come, before Mogart could speak past the swelling on his face enough to call for help, before he could realise she’d broken his nose, cracked five of his teeth.

And they were setting off out of the city, towards the sand dunes that stood between them and the tomb.

Layla seemed to have quickly recovered from the heavy hit she took to the face, either that or a serious concussion had made her tongue all the more sharp as she piped up from the driver's seat, finger drawing gently over her wounds as she watched the road, Dove sat in the seat behind her.

The marrow white of the moonlight soothed between her eyes as she shut them, her clothes returned to normal, the soft hum of the engine rattling her skull as it rested against the window. She felt tired, inside and out, felt her body shutting down, dragging her back over the rainbow. Thoughts of a man that no longer existed poisoning her thoughts.

A weight sat between the three of them, a wall Marc knew the girl in the back seat was locking herself behind, hiding from him. Something she hadn’t done in the whole time she’d known him.

She’d been wary of him when they had first met, hell she’d turned tail and ran from him the first sign she saw he was not Steven. But withdraw from him? Now they were him and she was her. Now he had shown her he would always come to drag her from her dark. Never.

“Oy,” He kissed his teeth in annoyance, inspecting his ruined coat where Layla had torn away the metal cuffs to use as weapons, “I really liked that jacket,”

The street lamps were cottony balls of gold as she opened her eyes, looking past them and into the inky darkness.

“We’ll get out one day right?” She asked, her head pressed against the window, the coal colour of the sky barely concealing the city smog, the new moon of the month meaning they were alone in their thoughts tonight, the sky entirely black, missing its lunar companion.

Grace was there. Grace was always there. Always touching, always loving, just always Grace.

She reached out her fingertips to brush against her own, stroking a pretty pink thumbnail over the back of her hand.

“Of course. Some day.” Grace said, though her eyes seemed to search for the same round ivory shape that watched their conversations most nights. It was all they had, the moon and the birds, but the two things never seemed to stay for too long. They had better things to do, Dove remembered thinking. Nothing seemed to stick around except Grace.

The red light from the hotel sign sprung to life, flickering for a second before switching to full beam right as the clock struck eleven pm. Same as it did every night. Same as it would every night from then on.

Their faces were painted with cardinal red. The red reminded her of the shoes, of the glittering heels that had quicksanded her into this life. The red turned her stomach sick, the red was a sign he was heading home, a sign he was on his way back.

“How do you know?” She asked, and she couldn’t remember why she did but it was probably just because Grace knew everything. Grace could tell her the world had ended outside of their little bedroom window, that the day was night and night was day and she’d believe her. She’d take her word for gospel.

Grace held her fingertips, playing with them absently. She was thinner than she was a few months ago. They’d persuaded Frank to get her some kind of anti anxiety meds, some kind of Diazepam, to calm her down since she was struggling to sleep.

They came with as much fuss as they’d expected from the man, given to her as a treat for being so loyal, came in a little brown bottle with no label. Whatever they were, whether legit or not, they worked. Though she seemed almost tranquilised most days now.

She sighed, her sullen eyes blinking slowly at the red glare that tinted her honey gold locks.

“Because I know it can’t be this forever,” She murmured, her cheeks sunken, body lifeless. “It just can’t,”

“Hey,” She was jolted from her reverie, brought back to the car where Marc had a hand on her knee, shaking her slightly, “You okay?”

But she didn’t answer him, she simply looked back out onto the street, eyes flicking from one street lamp to the next. She wished she would just fade away, float from her body and just stop, just stop thinking, knowing she could come back to it, just fade away for a little while.

Leave me to die while you can, Marc. She wanted to grab his collar and scream in his face, Leave me, get out, get safe. I’m a disease waiting to spread.

“What was Harrow talking about?” Layla asked the man, her brow fully cleaned now as she glimpsed at the side of his face. She could have sworn the air got sucked out of the tiny metal compartment the moment she’d opened her mouth, Dove’s chest plummeted into her stomach, churning in on itself.

It was clear Layla’s question was aimed for Marc as her fawn eyes turned cold, glaring into his cheekbone as his face tensed slightly, the weight of something heavy sinking into his eyes.

“What do you mean?” He asked, his hands finding the hem of his shirt to lift the stained material over his head, even if to put a small barrier between the heat of her stare and his guilt.

“He said I had a right to know,” She pointed out, rubbing her temple hard when he met her with a beat of silence. She knew Marc too well. He busied himself with other things when he was thinking of a lie, busied himself with balling the fabric up in his hands, a sour look on his face.

“I have no idea,” He said, reaching into the back seat for his bag for a change of clothes.

If Dove was listening in on their conversation, she showed no sign of it when he caught sight of her, staring out the window, though her eyes were empty, and he was entirely sure she was not watching what was out there, but was much much further away than their little car and his and Layla’s argument.

“I never told anyone why I really moved,” Layla shook her head, gripping the wheel tightly, “But he knew, he just saw right through me,” She said aghast, the accusation clear in her tone. Marc did himself no favours, fretting more over getting his white jumper over his head than even being able to look her in the face. And her, god he wanted to shake her with everything in him and beg her to speak, to say something, to stop looking so distant from him, to crawl into the tight little space in her mind she’d found herself in and dig her out of it. Come back to me.

“He’s just trying to mess with you, he’s just trying to get into your mind,” Marc muttered, adjusting the jumper over his bare body, glancing back at the woman in the back seat to see her still down her little rabbit hole, “Don’t let him do that, you know, he’s got this idea that he an see the true nature of people, some baloney like that. If that were true, I don’t think he would have a bunch of homicidal maniacs as his disciples, now would he?”

“So it’s not true?” Layla cut him off with a doubtful sigh. He was rambling. He always rambled when he was lying, as if he was trying to fill his mouth with more words so the truth wouldn’t come pouring out instead. “What he said about you and-”

“No, of course it’s not true. No, he’s just trying to divide us, don’t let him get in your head.” He muttered, glancing back over the centre console for the third time. She was still lost in a daze on the other side of the glass, she was still miles away from him.

He wondered if Harrow had been telling the truth about her too. The look on her face, the terror, the guilt written over every inch was telling. He knew it well, knew it like looking in a mirror. Ghosts that haunted him even to the farthest corners of the world, his mother’s vicious words that never seemed to leave him.

What had she done? What had she been running from? What had made her look so… so sorry?

He didn’t care. He’d decided then and there, when she’d taken off after Layla, the woman who had hated her the moment she clamped eyes on her, then and there when he thought of her handing him the tiny pigeon crumpled in her fingers, then and there when he’d heard how relieved she was to see Steven. There was nothing she was capable of so bad that he would hate her. Harrow was trying to divide them, just like he’d said.

He forgave her without so much as knowing her crime. But Layla was not so soothing.

“What about you, hm?” Layla bit, her umber eyes flicking up into the rear view mirror, landing on the girl that seemed to barely acknowledge her, “Hey, princess, I’m talking to you,”

Dove’s head snapped to see the pair of them watching her carefully.

“Huh?” Was all she could manage, looking between the two cluelessly, catching herself going back to the woeful eyes the man shot at her.

“What was Harrow talking about? About ‘the last man you were with’?” She asked bluntly, her focus darting between the set of traffic lights they sat at and the woman in the back who purely froze.

This was it. She heard her blood rushing through her eardrums fast, mimicking waves rolling into shore. Joey had once told her that was why you hear the sea when putting a shell to your ear, it was the blood rolling through your eardrums, her clever little boy. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth, choking her, strangling her. Silencing her. Her boy. Her sweet boys.

“Well?” Layla pushed, eyes glaring expectantly. She couldn’t say she blamed her, Layla was trusting some stranger who hid half of herself to help them save the world. She couldn’t be angry at the woman, she was being cautious. She was being Layla.

Yet Dove felt herself shutting down at the confrontation. Felt her inside collapse in their resolve, her mouth remaining in its tight lipped grimace.

“My-” She cleared her throat, starting again, “Before London…”

She couldn’t say it. She felt her heartbeat rocking her ribs, vibrating through to the seatbelt across her chest, so harsh it was squeezing at her throat.

“What, was he married too or something?” Layla asked with a nasty laugh, so entirely wound up that Marc seemed all the more concerned about her weak frame quivering in the back seat than about thinking straight. He should see the warning signs by now, the way she never gave anything of herself away, the way she had a sorrow written across her expression that told her Harrow had hit a nerve with his words. Though, Layla supposed rose-tinted glasses make red flags seem normal. She would know of that one.

“Layla,” Marc warned, his eyes hardening as he looked back to her in the driver’s seat, only to have her huff.

“No-no I would never-” Dove winced, bottom lip trembling as she could barely force her words out. Would never what? Sleep with a married man. She wasn’t blind, she saw the wedding bands that lingered on so many of the men's fingers. Or even the tan lines from the few who tried to cover it. She couldn’t say it, because she had. She should have known better, should have tried harder to leave, shouldn’t have been so fucking naive.

“What, Marc?” Layla was a bomb close to detonating now, spurred on by Marc’s obvious lies and Doves' silence that spoke volumes. She felt as if she was the only person in the car speaking any sense, only one opening her eyes to what was happening, “You don’t know anything about her, are you really willing to stake both of our lives defending her?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Harrow is trying to get into your head and it’s working-” Marc snapped back, his brows entirely contorted now into an angry frown.

“Stop-” Dove felt herself whisper, the two of them falling into disarray in front of her, like she was watching a glass wall slowly crack, thunder waiting for its crack of lightning, “Stop, please,”

“Do you not think about Steven? How do you trust her with Steven knowing she hides so much from him?” Layla fought back, her hands gripping the wheel hard enough her gold rings bit into her skin, her nose flaring with anger.

Dove felt the bile rising in her throat as her very worst fear was declared, said to the one man whose job it was to protect sweet Steven from people like her.

“Now is not the time for us to be divided, this is exactly what he wants, this is exactly how he wins,” Marc hit back, not noticing how the life drained from their passengers face, her eyes filled with tears.

She couldn’t go back. She couldn’t go back to being alone. She couldn’t. There was nothing left of her before Steven.

“Stop it,” She managed a bit louder this time, drawing a breath when they seemed to ignore her as Layla pulled onto a quieter road that began to lead into a deserted track cutting through sand dunes, leaving behind the city.

“This is just so like you, Marc, not thinking about the consequences until you've dug me into shit knee deep,” Layla seethed, her foot pressing on the pedal until they had picked up a decent speed.

“Just lay off of her alright? I know we’re all under a lot of pressure but she is innocent in all of this-”

“Innocent?” Layla scoffed, with only more outcry from Marc, the two of them talking over one another.

Dove felt the sick rising, the lump moving out of her throat to make way for whatever she could give next.

“STOP IT!” She yelled, her voice cracking and silencing the two. Though Layla seemed to have had quite enough of them and slammed her foot on the breaks, the three of them jolting forward, “Just STOP,”

The car went quiet, beside the angry huffs exhaled through flared nostrils, Dove’s mouth bobbing open to speak finally. Yet she felt lost for words; her body was still back in that room, in that window, and she was but all a shell of who she should be. A ghost. A phantom in her own body.

The sound of static sprang to life making the three of them jump, cutting through the dead silence, the number on the radio in the centre console flicking through a handful of signals, before landing on one entirely different than they’d been listening to, music pouring from the car’s speakers.

‘Well, they showed you a statue, told you to pray

They built you a temple and locked you away’

No. No it couldn’t be. It had to be some sick joke. She would have known Billy Joel anywhere from her niece's endless runnings of his tapes.

‘Aw, but they never told you the price that you pay

For things that you might have done

Well, only the good die young’

She was out of her seat in seconds. The door slammed behind her heavily, her shoes tearing across the sands, lungs constricting in a rattling pant.

“Why must you torment me?” She mewled, the God she spoke to crawling his way out of the night, still as monstrous as always.

“I did nothing, pup. You are getting stronger,” Seth growled back in delight, following behind her, a shadow nipping at her heels, “That little magic trick was your own doing,”

She swallowed thickly, taking off into the dunes for a few more paces, “It wasn’t even her favourite,” She sneered, which only made him laugh loudly at her attempt of rebuttal, “Why did you choose me for this? Why me? If all you want is to torture me for the rest of my life,”

“I see it in you, mutt, as hard as you like to deny me. I see the way vengeance claws at your stomach like a babe growing life,” His ominous words were met with silence as she continued marching away from the car, ignoring his attempts to anger her. But she knew it was true, knew she was rotten inside. She’d known it long before that night. Long before Seth.

She walked through the darkness of the dunes for a moment more, if not to get away from that car where she’d be forced to spill, then to get away from him who followed her footsteps a single paced behind her.

“He wouldn’t care, mutt, if you told him,” He said calmer than ever, quiet enough to throw a fault in her steps, “There is no guilt in retribution-”

“I CARE,” She screamed at him, the air falling hushed as she finally faced the god that once made her cower, looked into his black soulless eyes that watched her intrigued, “I CARE THAT I AM GUILTY,”

She couldn’t help but fall to her knees. She needed air, more air than her lungs would take, more air than her throat would allow, like rising out of the damn water all over again. The twilight was soupy and warm as it was in the day, muggy and honey thick as she breathed in.

“You are too soft, mutt. I give you such a gift of life and I am still met with nothing but thankless whining-” He hissed, any semblance of calm gone.

“TAKE IT BACK THEN-” She yelled, fingers grabbing into the sands angrily, throwing it at him pitifully with a weepy sneer, “TAKE IT BACK! I am not the ‘fist of vengeance’ you want me to be!”

His dark laughter echoed in her ears as he melted away into the gloom as quickly as he had come, whispering into the space between them as he slipped away; “I think you’re exactly what I want, that’s why you hurt,”

She cried harder.

She barely heard the footsteps over the soft sands, not until she heard him shushing her, a hand coming over the crown of her head, stroking her hair gently as her shoulders shook.

He was like Grace in that sense. Seemed to always be there when she needed him most. Without fail, without hesitation.

She let Marc pull her close, let him wind his arms over her shoulders and hold her head steady into his chest, kissing her temple as she sniffled. She couldn’t take it anymore, burying her head into him tighter, her hands around his torso, clutching at the muscle of his back.

“Marc- Please don’t take him away from me-” She hiccuped, her body convulsing in gasps, “I’ll be good to him, I promise I would, please don’t leave-”

He hushed her louder, moving to see her face, his forehead knocking against hers, their cheeks brushing, the wetness dripping onto his jaw.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Marc assured, stroking over the back of her hair, “Steven would never forgive me-”

“You would hate me- I’m so awful-” She whimpered, sniffling into his jaw, feeling him push her away by the shoulders, far enough he could see her sodden face, “He would hate me,”

“Stop that,” He chided sternly, brushing over her cheeks with his thumb gently. A wethered smile met his lips, eyes meeting hers earnestly, “There’s nothing you could ever do that could make him hate you,”

“What Harrow said- I-” She hiccupped, she couldn’t stand to feel his soft brown hues on her mournful face. She had to tell him something, something to keep him from asking. She remembered him rambling in the car, keeping his mouth busy to keep the truth from coming out. She supposed she felt the same. “I did something terrible, Marc,”

His lips quirked downwards, as if he was stuck for what to say, his gaze following the tear that rolled over her cheek, joining the wet that pooled at her jaw.

“Terrible things don’t always make us awful,” He said quietly, though it felt as though he’d prodded at her very core, touched a nerve so raw she felt a breath leave her, clogging in her throat.

“The last man I was with, I-” She swallowed thickly, “I stole his money and left him because I was too cowardly to just break up with him,”

She felt heat rip inside immediately.

She’d lied. She’d lied to him. Then again, what was so different than usual. She had always lied to Steven.

Marc bit his lip, watching her with pity.

“Was he good to you?” He asked, stroking her hair carefully as she shook her head. She hiccupped again, wiping her face with the cuff of her sleeve, sniffling through a bunged up nose.

“He liked to tell me he was. He took me away from my brothers.” She said, brushing sand off her thighs absently, “He told me I could make more money working in the city, forced me to move away from them, and I believed him because I was so stupid-”

“You’re not stupid,” Marc tutted, his face a sour frown. He hated seeing her cry. The emptiness behind her wetted eyes only reminded him of his own, and that scared him far more than anything else she could have said, “And you’re not awful. You’re human.” He whispered, stroking a thumb down her jaw, collecting the remaining tears that gathered there.

She breathed out shakily, finally brave enough to reach his eyes. Her lip damn near started quivering again at the softness behind them, a softness she didn’t deserve, a softness that seemed to make her think maybe, maybe he would understand if she told him the truth.

She dismissed the thought immediately.

His lips parted, as if wanting to say more, except he could only stare at her own mouth. How it glistened with salted tears. He couldn’t help but slowly run a thumb over her lower lip, fixing the hurt, erasing the guilt. He could never fix himself. Could never fill the darkness that devoured his life, his memories. But he swore on every god out there he would mend her wounds for her.

He wanted to kiss her more than ever. He wanted to pour every bit of love he and Steven had for her combined and fill her to the top until it poured out of her instead of those dreaded tears. Wanted to put his lips on hers as if he even thought himself worthy. He’d lay down his life for her instead of Khonshu, carry out anything she ordered of him, jump as many hoops, die for her over and over and over if it meant he could kiss her now.

He felt her looking at his lips too, something close to glistening want in her eyes, behind soggy lashes, leaning in further and further until-

“We should get back to Layla,” He said, his cool breath fanning over the bridge of her nose.

She nodded her head in his grip, sniffing one last time as the tears seemed to have died down, swallowing whatever words she was going to say.

They walked back to the car silently.

“Try that one,” Marc said, handing Layla a scrap of the cartograph. In the midst of the chaos Layla had managed to grab the shredded map and stuff it into her pack, where the three of them were now tasked with putting it back together again. Except, unlike any puzzle she and Steven completed, the map was simply a bunch of dots punctured through the fabric meant to be stars, with no actual linear picture in sight.

“Maybe actually,” Layla muttered, as Dove stared between four pieces of her own, the headlights from the truck illuminating their view, “Uh, no. Anything over there?”

“Yeah, I got the world’s suckiest game over here,” The younger woman huffed, rubbing her tired eyes. It was well into the night by now, and they had been driving for just over an hour to get to where they were in the middle of nowhere, far enough away that Harrow’s men would struggle to find them, not so far they were lost, “Atleast in UNO I know how to win,” She said grumpily, picking the skin around her thumb.

“I’m not getting any whole constellations. It’s just little pieces and fragments.” Marc grumbled, holding up three pieces sellotaped together that gave him nothing useful, before he slammed them down on the hood of the car in anger.

The two women jumped, watching him walk away with a heavy breath, hands on his hips.

Dove chewed her bottom lip. She wished Steven were here.

Watching Marc round back on them, coming to stand next to her with his elbows on the metal work, running his hands through his dark locks to calm down.

“This is gonna take forever,” He grumbled, shaking his head in defeat. They had been so close, so close to just snagging the map out of the sarcophagus. But of course Harrow had to shake things up for them as if it was all part of his game, one they never got to win.

“Marc, we need Steven,” Layla said over the bonnet of the truck, her eyes tired, her wound sore over her brow, “He understands all of this. I really think it's worth giving him a shot,” Her gaze slid to where Dove looked at the fabric pieces in her hand guiltily, “Don’t you agree?”

She felt Marc’s eyes on her then, the two of them waiting on her verdict, both equally exhausted though Marc’s almond hues came with a hint of frustration.

She saw it immediately, swallowing calmly before she met his stare, sighing slightly.

“He’s much better than I am at this stuff, Marc, and- and it’s not that you’re not useful in so many other ways, it’s just-” She bared a sad smile, though his face remained bitter, eyes unfocused as if he were lost in his own thoughts, “We could do with him right now,”

“Marc, it’s okay just let go,” Layla pushed harder, seeing as he wasn’t moving, which seemed to be the thing that had him growling in annoyance, reaching over for the wing mirror of the truck, grabbing it with his bare hands and wrestling it free, “We don’t have time,”

The mirror popped off with a whine and Marc huffed, avoiding Dove’s eyes that watched him dejectedly. She had never wanted to make him angry, nor to make him feel useless. But Steven would be their saving grace right about now.

Grabbing all of the pieces of cartonage, along with the tape in a big bundle in his arms, Marc walked away from the car, away from the pitied stares, and off a metre or so away where he could talk to Steven in peace.

Dove watched his retreating back, rubbing her arms nervously, ears pricked up for any signs of vehicles approaching, though all she heard was Marc’s mumbling to his alter through the mirror.

“All right, go ahead. You’re in,”

Then, as if his whole body seemed to loosen in moments, his shoulders dropped, his head tilted to one side, and he seemed to immediately clamp eyes on the pieces of the map at his feet.

“Cheers, thanks alot.” Came a familiar English drawl, higher in pitch, happier. The usual edge of sarcasm teasing his words.

Steven.

It was Steven.

He was right there.

No armed guards, no spears, no Arabian Steeds separating the two of them, just Steven.

She’d forgotten how it felt to have her legs weak hearing his voice alone.

Falling to his knees, his white trousers dirtying immediately which was just so Steven-like it bubbled a watery chuckle up her throat, he got to work tearing off pieces of tape, grabbing pieces of fabric and arranging them without too much thought. As if it came so easily he saw them fitting together without much head scratching like the rest of them had.

“Don’t need that bit- don’t need that,” He muttered under his breath as she dared a step near him, her footsteps wary enough she could barely spook a deer. Her heart leapt in her chest as she became close enough to touch him, close enough to run her hands through his hair if she wanted to.

Crouching down next to him, she peered over at the side profile of his face, scrunched with concentration.

“Steven?” She dared to ask, a nervous smile growing as he swivelled to look at her, feeling as if she was part of some dream she’d had for so long. How had she survived without those eyes, those gentle eyes that watched her so carefully, his face entirely different from that of Marc’s despite being identical. His face looked smoother, the frown gone, the bitterness turned into something sickly sweet that glazed his eyes with stars, “Steven,”

He took her in; god his words were knocked from him at the sight of her so close. He wanted her in his arms, he wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how she was the only spot of light in his terribly confusing life, how she was the only person to ever see him, even when she knew about Marc. She saw him. She saw Steven Grant. The heat engulfed his cheeks immediately, his chest seizing at the feeling of her hand brushing against his own, willing him to say something, anything.

So he did. Except, ofcourse, he was still Steven.

“Egyptians invented modern navigation.” He choked out, ripping some sellotape off, biting it in the middle to cut it with his teeth, “There’s not alot of landmarks in the desert so they came up with a way to get about using the sun and the stars. Bloody genius, isn’t it?”

He continued fiddling around with the cartonage, as if his heart wasn’t speeding like a rabbit’s for having her so near, attaching the final piece to create a star shaped map, clearly showing a handful of constellations as if what he’d just done wasn’t ‘bloody genius’ in itself.

“Et voila,” He said, holding the finished product out to her, his eyes falling on her face as she took in the map with astounded eyes, her lips parting in shock, her brows flying upwards, “It’s French,”

She couldn’t help but laugh, slapping a hand over her mouth as if the sound was offensive in such a dyer situation, smiling at him through a relieved sort of glee. Steven was back. Things seemed okay when he was there.

She couldn’t contain it anymore, springing towards him for a tight hug, feeling him wrap his arms around her quickly, as if he’d needed it just as badly. There was something oddly isolating about being inside the body, having to watch her light dwindle while screaming and rattling at Marc to fix it. He’d missed her. Missed her so much he couldn’t help bury his nose in her neck, the smell taking him back to the times she would sleep over and stay in his bed while he took the sofa, and when he would crawl back under the duvet the following night everything would smell as if she’d never left. As if she was pressed against him as tightly as she was now.

She smelled like everything good in his life. Smelled like the cinnamon latte she would drink before work, smelled like cuddling up to watch a documentary, knowing they were toeing a line between best friends and something else that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

Kiss her. Kiss her. You don’t know how long you’ll have in the body, kiss her now Steven.

Gods he would die to kiss her cracked lips and heal their stings.

“I missed you so much,” She murmured into his ear, as if she wanted only him to know.

“Oh, love, I missed you more,” He replied, nosing her neck, lips brushing over her pulse gently, accidentally, enough to have her suck in a breath and grip him tighter.

“Absolutely impossible,” She chuckled back, running a hand up his spine, weaving into the nape of his thick hair, carding her fingers through them in a way that had him whine.

“Sorry to shit over all of this,” Layla called awkwardly, and the two pulled apart as if they’d been caught, “But what do we do with this map now we have it?”

Steven stood up quickly, face flushed with embarrassment that Marc’s ex-wife had found him smelling the girl he longed for. She was quick to her feet too, brushing the sand off her knees before it could stick.

“Well, you see those little pin pricks?” Steven asked, holding the map up toward the trucks blaring white light, the thin constellation in the middle showing clearer than ever, “We should be able to triangulate the stars into coordinates using that.” He said, a wide grin on his face, the fascination clear in his tone.

“Hold on, let me just scan it,” Layla said, holding her tablet up to take a photo of the cartonage, the impressed smile growing easily on her own face.

“Well, um actually…” Steven began, disappointment slowly creeping into his tone, “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple,”

Layla’s face scrunched up as if she ignored Steven’s words, tapping around the screen for it to work magic.

“It’s not working. Why is it not working?” She asked, frowning at the tablet.

“Yeah, yeah. You see, Senfu marked that tomb like two thousand years ago,” Steven explained, his hands waving around as he explained the science behind their predicament, “And stars drift over time. Not much as far as stars go, but-”

“But enough to change our course by a fair bit, I suppose?” Dove cut in, Steven nodding in agreement with a besotted look on his face.

“That’s exactly it, love. It could mean the difference between us searching miles and miles away from where we’re supposed to be looking,” He explained, fiddling with the sellotaped edge of the map idly, “So unless we know exactly what the sky looked like on that date, we’re buggered,”

Dove chewed the rough edge of her nail, the concentrating frown on her face, the same stance she assumed when she had no hand to play in their many card games, when she was considering something big before she said it. Steven had tried to pry her finger from out her mouth before, insisting it would only hurt her more when it started bleeding, but he knew it was a soothing behaviour she had when she was thinking.

“I remember that night.” Came a deep voice, cutting through the emptiness of the desert like a horn. Not of her own master, but the bird headed one that puppeteered her companions. Her head shot up to the top of the sand dune they stood next to, where the skeletal figure stood proudly with his staff, staring at the sky as if watching his own child. Though Dove supposed she too would admire her own creation if she made something so beautiful. “I remember every night,”

“Khonshu?” Steven called out warily, the three of them following the god up to the peak of the dune as he began disappearing over the valley, fading into the night air like a laugh in the wind. Her legs burned with the effort of the steep gradient and soft sand flooring, but the trio reached the top with little complaint. Looking out onto the vast sands blanketed with stars, they searched for wherever the God of the moon had disappeared to, though they came up empty handed.

“I can turn back the night sky,” His booming voice reverberated around them, loud enough she was worried the sand would shift beneath their feet.

“How?” She asked, the two avatars looking to the stars to wait for answers while Layla fiddled with her tablet.

“It will come at a cost, and I cannot do it alone. The worm will have to help me”

As if her fear had begun materialising, the wind picked up around them, cycloning into a harsh whip, spinning a thin layer of sand that bit at her skin, caught in her hair.

“Steven,” He materialised behind the, “When the gods imprison me, tell Marc to free me,” The god requested, holding his staff up high, no doubt to beacon his power.

Fat chance of that happening, Dove thought bitterly, knowing how badly Marc wanted the being gone from his life, sucking away at his being, draining him like a parasite that forced him to obey.

But perhaps the god was not entirely awful, she thought with one single shred of hope, because as he had promised, Khonshu raised his hands to the inky blackness above and Dove watched in bewilderment as the sky began moving, twisting on its axis like a metal globe.

She watched as the stars moved slightly at first, then whipping around into a brief glimpse of sunlight as it picked up pace with Steven raising his arms too, falling towards the horizon faster and faster until there were nothing but beams of purple across the Egyptian night sky.

And the stars were turned back by damn near two thousand years.

—

Taglist:

KNIGHT IN SOHO TAGLIST

@shirukitsune @s-u-t @ahookedheroespureheart @willowseason @imonmykneessir @acceptedbyace @broadwaytraaaaash @mythicalmo @stevenknightmarc @avery88 @fandombrackets @thelostlovedone @raythecomputerart @nyctophile-moon-child @unknownduck0 @emily-roberts @cheshirecat484 @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @thebestrouge @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @dumbhxeredrose @badbishsblog @jvexoxo @sxftie-mari @mythical-goth @cillmeslowly @wildwallflower24 @ameliashideout @moonsua1 @latenightcravingz @blackqueengold @jesfreedark @uncle-eggy @onefinnedwonder-fm

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector imagine #moon knight x reader #moonknight imagine #moonknight x reader #steven grant fanfiction

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thelyingjoke · 2 months

Note

hi bow i know we haven't talked in a while but i have been thinking So Fucking Much about DICE lately so i had to ask. u got any DICE hcs?

heyyyyy first off i am SO so sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this. i’ve been going through a lot of complicated personal stuff the past several months and it’s kept me off of social media…but i am back now! hopefully. i may not be the most active but i will try my best!!

NOW FOR THE QUESTION !!! DICE is a little funny for me…i love them so much and yet my mind’s perception of them constantly shifts…i can never seem to think of anything concrete for them. i love most theories about them to where i can’t decide which ones to believe in myself. like the 11th member…i really like all of the explanations people make for them. from cameraperson to pet to kokichi’s twin. I can’t decide which i like best so they’re all true at the same time for me.

for things that i CAN decide on…hm. Well they are Definitely orphans to me. and i think that like…that horse head in kokichi’s room? they all have one of those. they like to wear them regularly i think. it’s an extra mask. it gets pulled off their faces scooby-doo style to reveal the clown mask underneath.

and i Really like the card nicknames headcanon. but i think they have more than just standard deck names. like there’s Heart, Spade, Club, Clover, Ace, Joker. then you’ve got shit like Wild +4. Basic Darkness Energy. A Deal With Dark Ruler. Sour Cream From Steven Universe. they’re an unpredictable bunch…you can never guess what nickname they’re gonna use next.

the last one actually has an explanation. in an rp from like. jan 2019 i think? it was with DICE members and one of them pointed out how this guy’s hair looks like sour cream from steven universe

and in hindsight their hair is actually not that similar at all they are both just pointy. but that has stuck with me. and it’s funny. so i’ve been calling that member Sour Cream ever since

and speaking of comparing media…i imagine the group to have a dynamic similar to Giovanni’s Boys (gender neutral) from one of my favorite shows, the hit webseries epithet erased. they’re a gang of teenage petty criminals who are initially low-ranking members of an Actual criminal organization pyramid scheme but they eventually leave after giovanni proposes making their own evil organization. they’ve got goofy nicknames like Dark Star and Crusher and Flamethrower and Car Crash (but you can only get one if you earn it). giovanni wants to be a supervillain so bad and he is the sweetest guy ever who loves his minions so very much. these snippets from the book really fit DICE i think!

i look at them replacing hot dogs with cattails, and i nod and think…yes…DICE would do that…stupid but fun…that’s all they want…

they have their differences. giovanni and his boys (gender neutral) are very stupid. but i think the fundamentals of them both being groups of teens who just want to have fun and commit harmless petty crimes and who care so much for each other is Wonderful. i often think of this song to be DICE’s theme song even if i don’t think they are actually like how the banzai blasters are in the song. they’re smarter. But it’s a banger. i find them both very very fun (i think about kokichi saying lines from ee often…i have a list)

And this is not really a headcanon but i like how in the group photo everyone else has pants that at least Reach their ankles but kokichi is a rebel and wears pants that are just slightly too small for him. why does he do that. Weirdo (affectionate)

#kokichi ouma #danganronpa #ndrv3 #bow rambles #asks #headcanons #vespertin-y #i wish i had more hcs about them…#gonna bet i think of more things right after posting…#i hope this suffices!

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alex-rambles · 1 year

Note

HII can I request a yandere bill cipher x reader oneshot when its weirdmageddon and the reader is kidnapped and just more of what they're doing in their pyramid. Sorry if it's a little confusing I tried to word it as best as I could 😅

YES. I GOT DRAGGED BACK INTO MY BILL SIMP PHASE.

He's pissed, you can tell.

The question is, what about? Did you do something? No, that's impossible, you've been stuck in one room for... how long, now? A few days, at least.

He finally appears in 'your' room, muttering to himself as he floats above 'your' bed.

"Sunspot, help me out. How does one go about breaking someone like Sixer?"

You do your best to ignore him.

"Are you deaf? I asked you a question!"

Bill rolls his eye and pokes you repeatedly. "Answer. Me."

"Shut up," you finally hiss at him. "I'm not an all-knowing demon. Breaking people is your department, not mine!"

"You're lucky I like you."

"Am I? I'd rather be a piece of stone on your throne than where I am!"

"Oh, no, no, no. If I didn't like you, I'd tear you apart, atom by atom. I digress, how does one break that man? He won't respond to torture! And I need that equation, sunspot! Then we can rule the world!"

You scoff. "What if I don't want to rule the world? Did you ever think of that?"

He probably didn't. He's too caught up in his little fantasy world to consider what the object of his obsession even wants.

His answer surprises you. "Of course I did! But you underestimate the way power gets to the head! Sureeee, you aren't interested now, but give it a bit, once you get a taste of real power-"

"For an all-knowing entity, you're a fool."

His eye narrows. He messes with his bowtie, clearly doing his best to restrain himself. "Is that so?"

"Absolutely! You're a selfish prick! You claim to love me, but you obviously don't even know how to treat the one you love! You're stuck in your stupid power fantasy! Get over yourself!"

Bill actually appears... hurt. That's new. You've thrown many, many insults at him, but he always laughed it off.

"Can you cut it out? I'm trying, you know that? I've done everything to make you comfortable! Keep your fragile human body functioning! Make you happy!"

"No! You're not! You're isolating me! I'm the opposite of happy! You're trying to force me into what I don't want!"

You scowl at him. "I hate you! I hope that Ford kills you! I hope that you have to watch everything you worked for get ripped away!"

For the first time, his voice turns quiet.

"Well, sunspot... Didn't know ya felt that way. I'm trying to make you happy. I promise, you'll learn to like it."

"I will kill myself before that," you spit.

With that, he crumbles.

"Nononono, you can't do that! I will not allow that! If you die, what will I have?"

"What, is world domination not enough? You're not just selfish, you're a greedy fuck."

You haven't really let your emotions run loose yet. But in this moment, something inside you just snapped. Whether it was the isolation, or just Bill being Bill, you don't know.

All you know is that Bill is upset, and it brings you some twisted form of joy.

"All humans die, Bill! I'd die eventually even if I don't off myself purposely!"

Well clearly, that's something he didn't want to even consider.

"NO! You won't die...! I won't let that happen...!"

You sneer and place your finger on his middle area. "Oh, I very much will. And I'll be the happiest person alive. Free from you and your madness."

Bill regains his composure. "You won't. I will absolutely never let you die. I like you too much to let you die. You're the only fleshbag I can genuinely say I like, and I refuse to lose that."

"Selfish bastard."

"Stop calling me names, you hear me? I hate that!"

"Oh my god! I hate being stuck with you, but I evidently can't do jack shit about it...! Sometimes, we just have to roll with what happens!"

Bill merely clasps his hands behind his back. "Clearly we both need space," he says calmly, as if his previous freakout didn't happen. "I'll give you a day, then we'll talk."

You collapse onto 'your' bed as he warps out of the room.

Absolutely unbearable.

#yandere bill cipher #yandere bill cipher x reader #bill cipher x reader #yandere gravity falls #yandere gravity falls x reader #billposting #alex writes

416 notes · View notes

lostfirefly · 3 months

Text

Life Must Have It's Mysteries (Ch.4)

Nobody asked me, but the thought of sending my beloved couple on a new journey didn't let me go. Welcome to a new adventure! No idea how many chapters there will be :) Pain continues leading me to art :)

English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) Masterlist is here.

Description: Our heroes sneak into Baroque Works Castle and stole the map!

Warnings: Fun, fluff, a little scolding, adventure! Shitty shit again:)

Words: 4403 (sorry again)

Buggy x OC from my “You’ve Got the Same Dream as Me” series.

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots, @hey-august, @rorywritesjunk, @yujo-nishimura (I hope you still like it!)

The title is taken from “Life Must Have It's Mysteries” by Hans Zimmer (OST Inferno).

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Run? Run? Where? That big baby is blocking the road we came!” Catherine was in a slight panic, pointing her finger at the big man.

“Then we'll find another one!” Buggy grabbed her arm and dragged her along. All Catherine could do was yell “oh, my God.”

They reached another hallway and started looking around. Buggy pulled her behind a column and covered her with his body.

“Catherine, now would be a good time to turn on your whole brain and think about where in houses like this your favorite Egyptian pharaohs could have made an extra exit. Mister 4 doesn't have powers, but if he hits with his bat, it won't be good.”

“Mister 4? What a stupid name!” She exclaimed.

“Seriously? Now?” He looked at her, trying to read the answer in her eyes to this stupid expression.

They heared the sound of a lot of footsteps, which were getting closer and closer.

“Where to go?” Buggy asked, looking at Catherine.

“I... I don't know!!” She grabbed her head.

“Catherine, please, focus!”

“Uh, wait. Wait! If this house was built on the pyramid principle, the building should be oriented on the south pole-north pole axis. Typically, emergency exits in such buildings were in the south. But given that they mixed up east and west, the exit should be on the north side of the building.”

“Then let's try the north way.” He peeked out from behind the column and checked the path. “Clear, let's go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along again.

“Oh, my God! I’m tired of running!”

They had reached the turnoff when a man's voice came from outside.

“Buggy the Clown!”

The man who had a number three on his head made from his hair stood behind them. The man with the number four on his clothes also approached him.

“You know him?” Catherine asked and looked at Buggy with wide eyes.

“Uh, sort of.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“I haven't seen you since prison.” Said the man with the number of three.

“Holy crap! You know, you should definitely tell me about this!” Catherine punched Buggy in his shoulder.

“Is that what you want to talk about right now?” Buggy looked at her and gently shoved her behind him, as Catherine searched with her eyes for a way forward.

“Holy shit!” She squealed.

The man in ballet clothes appeared from the other side of the hallway.

“Why does he look so... How he looks like…” She asked, pointing at the man with two figures in the shape of swans on his shoulders.

“What are you doing here? I thought we talked about this last time.” Said the man with the number of three.

The question 'what' was read in Catherine's eyes as she shifted her gaze from Buggy to the men.

“You won't believe! I took the wrong road.” He smiled and made two small steps back.

“Yes, it's very obvious. You were clearly on your way somewhere, and then suddenly… you're standing in the middle of the hallway of our headquarters.”

“Well, uh. What can I say, Mister 3? That's me!” Buggy chuckled.

“Mister Three? Who comes up with these stupid names?” Catherine screamed loudly, rolling her eyes. “And you're probably Mister 2, judging by the originality of the names here.” She pointed a finger at the man in ballet clothes. He looked surprised.

Mister 3 glanced at Catherine. “So, Buggy, why are you here?”

Buggy slipped his hand into the pocket of his denim jacket. Mister 3 spread his legs slightly and stretched out his arms, which began to turn to wax.

“Fuck me!!!” Catherine goggled at his wax hands. “What the fuck is that?”

Mister 3 made a sudden movement with his hand, creating a long wax lasso, and wrapped it around Catherine's leg.

“Let her go!” Buggy said loudly, taking three knives out of his pocket.

“Oh my goodness, Buggy! Would you at least say that you carry such things with you?”

“Catherine, shut up, please!” He hissed at her.

“Oh! Now I see who is she!” Mister 3 jerked his wax lasso sharply, knocking Catherine to the floor and pulling her towards him.

“Fuck!” Buggy abruptly dropped the knives, separated his both arms and grabbed Catherine by the belt on her pants.

Catherine forcefully began to pull her leg out. “Damn!! I'm so sick of your fucking devil fruits! Let me go!”

Mister 3 pulled Catherine back toward him. She jerked her leg sharply, and she managed to free it. She quickly stood up, and Buggy’s hands pulled her back to him.

He attached his hands, took her hand and began to lead her behind his back. “Catherine, on the count of three, run.” He said quietly.

“How? That ballet dude blocked the way! And what about you?” She asked with concern in her voice and squeezed his hand.

Mister 3 began turning his hands into wax again.

“I said run. I'll deal with him. And don't let him touch you with his right hand.” Buggy pointed with his eyes at Mister Two and began to pull Catherine away from him with his hand.

“No, please. I’m not going wit..” She whispered.

“One… Two... Three!”

Catherine reluctantly let go of his hand and ran quickly. Buggy turned around and sent his knife towards Mister 2, who tried to grab Catherine at that moment. He dodged and she managed to sneak past him.

She ran two hallways and stopped.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Catherine felt the paper in her hands. She didn't even notice the map shoved into her hand. “Fuck, Buggy, where are you?” She looked hopefully in the direction from whence she had come running.

Catherine looked around and saw the outline of a door in the wall. She quickly walked over to the drawing, running her hand over it.

“The exit!”

She waited briefly for a few seconds, taking two deep breaths.

“Oh, Catherine, you're going to regret this!” She held onto the wall with her hand and quietly walked backwards. She walked through one hallway when suddenly she saw a small flash.

Catherine ran forward sharply and slammed into Buggy.

“You're alive!” She threw her arms around his neck. “Thank God! Are you hurt?” Her eyes surveyed his face.

“What's going to happen to me?" He hugged her. "Are you okay?”

“Yes!” Catherine ran her hands over his shoulders. “I saw the flash. I thought you.. What was that?”

“Well.. A failed attempt to launch my Muggy Ball.” Buggy scratched his head.

“Your what? What the hell is that thing?” She hit him lightly on the arm.

“Not now, Catherine, not now. Okay. Where do we go next?”

“I saw the door over there!” She pointed in the right direction. “I'm more than sure it's the exit which we are looking for!”

“Well then, let's run that way! Hang on!”

He threw her on his shoulder again and ran in the direction she pointed. They reached the right place. Catherine jumped off his shoulder and began to run her hand over the drawing. “How on earth do you open?”

They heard the sounds of approaching footsteps again.

“Catherine, hurry!” Buggy took the knives in his hand again and placed them between his fingers.

She was walking from side to side, clutching her head. “Wait! If there's a Shen in this building, it's also a sign of eternal protection. Eternity is infinity, right?” She looked around the wall. “Buggy! Up there! See the little stone at the top! And here, if you look closely, is a drawing of infinity on the wall. We need to guide this stone through that drawing.”

“Look, baby, if your theory's wrong, you will have a chance to sit in those places from where I escaped.”

“You know, we're going to have a lot to talk about.” She said, periodically glancing over his shoulder towards the sound of footsteps.

Buggy detached his hand and sent it up to a tiny stone that stuck out of the wall. He ran it in the pattern Catherine had pointed out and brought the stone to the floor.

“Now what?” He asked, looking back toward the sounds that were getting closer and closer.

“I didn’t install these doors, Buggy! I don’t know how they open! Let's try pulling it!”

They put their hands on the door and tried a few times to move it sideways.

“It's not working!" She clasped her hands. " You know, when I decided to start a relationship with you, I didn't think I'd end up in a fucking prison from which, as it turned out, my boyfriend escaped!!” She kicked at the door with all her might in frustration.

They heard a heavy sound.

“It's open!!! It opened!!!” Catherine screamed happily.

“See? You being a little evil has helped us again!” He clicked his tongue and winked.

“Screw you, fucking clown!”

“Yeah, yeah! You’ll yell at me later! Hurry!” Buggy took Catherine's hand and pulled her into the passage.

Just as they ran for the door, it closed.

“Well, now I suggest we run for the house exit!” He threw Catherine on his shoulder again and ran down the dark corridors.

They got out onto the street, climbed over the fence and ran to the car.

“Hell, yeah, Cathie-pie, we're on our way to the treasure!!” Buggy shouted cheerfully as he got into the car.

“That's all great, but you owe me new sneakers now, Buggy the Clown! That wax man stole one sneaker from my favorite pair.” She showed one socked foot.

⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭

They were on the road for a little over an hour.

“Okay. We are now somewhere between Little Garden and Whiskey Peak. Our next stop is in four hours. Good thing you and I stocked up on food and booze.” Catherine threw the map and notebook into the glove compartment of the car, put her feet up on the dashboard, looked at him and stroked his red and white striped bandana. “Hungry?”

“Nah.”

Suddenly they heard a pop from under the hood.

“What the fuck?” Buggy stretched his back and tried to understand where the sound was coming from.

“What happened?”

“I don't know!” He jerked the gearshift lever.

The car went a few more meters and stopped.

“What the fuck?” Buggy turned the keys in the ignition, pressed the clutch and gas pedals. “Fuck!” He jumped out of the car and looked under the tires first.

“What's wrong?” Catherine got out of the car.

“I don't know!!” She could hear the irritation in his voice. “Cathie-pie, push the black and red button near the steering wheel, open the hood for me.”

Catherine climbed up to the steering wheel through her seat. “Done!”

She went back to him. He opened the hood and started checking every detail.

“Look at you. Checking your car. God, you are so sexy right now.” She leaned on the car and smiled.

“Please, Catherine! Not now!” He barked loudly. “Shit. The cable and the strap came off.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Fuck! Just fuck!” He slammed the hood, then kicked the radiator grille.

“What are you so nervous about?” She moved closer to him and wanted to hug him.

“I said not now!” He yanked her arm away with a growl, stepped back a little, kicked the front tire twice, and leaned his head into the car.

She tiptoed over to him and put her hand gently on his back. “Buggy Bear, what's wrong?”

“Could you please don’t call me that!” He barked loudly, walked towards the trunk and sat on the ground.

Catherine tiptoed behind him and sat down on her knees next to him.

“What happened?” She put her hand on his shoulder.

“It never works out!” He whispered and was almost sobbing.

“What?”

“Nothing ever works out. He would have always succeeded…” He continued mumbling to himself.

She crawled on her knees a little closer and hugged him. “Are you talking about the one whose name we don’t mention? Nah, it wouldn't have worked out for him. You know why?” She stroked his head. “He doesn't have our tandem. Look at how good we are. You and me. We stole the map from these… Moron Words or whatever they are. We've gotten so far together. Because you're in charge of strength and defense, and I'm in charge of brains! What's he got? Nothing. So you're the winner, my little bear.”

She put her head on his shoulder and took his hand.

“I'm sorry.” He wrapped his hand around her waist.

“Oh, never mind, it's okay.” She looked at him and stroked his cheek. “Can I call you Buggy Bear again?”

“I don’t even understand why I allow you to call me that. You know that I’m against this nickname with every fiber of my soul!”

“And you perfectly know that I don’t care.” She pecked him on the lips. “So what's up, my blue-haired hero? How long will it take you to fix the car?”

“Well, it's gonna take two or three hours for sure. I want to check all the details under the hood. But I'm afraid we're not going any further today.”

“Well, we'll just spend the night here.” She looked around. “There's not a soul around. There's a sandy hill for our two old backs to lean on. We'll make a fire, and I’ll make your favorite hot dogs. Pretty cool, huh?”

While he rummaged around under the hood, Catherine found a small amount of twigs and looked in the trunk for matches.

“I found some papers here, I'll take some for the fire, ok? Oh, wow! You got newspapers from years ago." She took the newspaper in her hands and straightened out the sheets. "Hah, Orange Town News. Look at this. So much interesting stuff was going on three years ago. Exhibitions, concerts, even fights. Oh, look! The page with the headline "Wanted”. Sounds intriguing! Well, well. What do we have here? Wow! So many faces.”

Buggy tensed and quickly moved towards her. “Hey! Give me that!”

Without looking up from reading, she took two steps along the ground. “Someone with the name Mihawk. Oh, he's cute. Kuro. Why are they looking for the butler? Did he steal an expensive tea set since they give so much money for it? Arlong. Oh, I remember that name. Bug...”

“Catherine! Give it to me!” He snatched the papers from her hands.

“...gy the Clown??!!” She looked at him with surprised eyes, and it seemed she even stopped blinking. “It's you!”

“No, it's not me. This is a different Buggy!” He began to fold the newspaper.

“Are you taking me for a fool? Believe me, the world couldn't handle two Buggies. It would just collapse instantly.” Catherine hit her palms, showing an explosion.

“For the last time, it's not me!!”

“Yes, it's you. No offense, but I don't mistake you for anyone else thanks to one of your distinctive features.” She jabbed her finger at the picture in the paper. “You know, I'm getting more and more questions. There's a $15 million bounty on your head! What have you done that's worth so much money?”

“Doesn't matter.” He threw the newspapers back into the trunk, and walked back to the engine.

“My little Bear!”

He was annoyed. “You could have asked first what you can take in the trunk and what you can't. After all, I can have my personal stuff.”

“Oh my God!" Catherine rolled her eyes. "You're an emotional hurricane today, Buggy!”

“Could you please.. listen to me for once in your life! I don't want you to know. Is it clear?” He hissed through his teeth.

“What did I do? It's just a fucking newspaper. Stop overreacting!”

“Oh, fuck you!”

Catherine stood next to the car and waited about fifteen minutes, then quietly approached him and gently placed her hand on his back. “My love, let's talk. What happened? Why did you react like that?”

He didn't answer.

“Are you not gonna talk to me at all?”

Buggy silently removed her hand from his back and continued to mutter something to himself.

“Oh, well, the hell with you, fucking clown. Our drama queen got mad over some nonsense!” Catherine barked back at him, turned around and went to the place to prepare a fire pit.

She sat on the sand near the sand hill for an hour, drawing lines with a stick on the ground. She looked at Buggy, who was walking from trunk to hood, occasionally swearing at the engine.

Catherine exhaled, stood up, and slowly walked over to him. "How's it going?"

He didn't answer anything.

“Are you still offended? I'm sorry if I said or did something wrong. I was just a little surprised to see your face there.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I don't care about that poster if it scares you.” She took another half step toward him, putting her chin on his shoulder and gently rubbing his head. “Bzzz… What are you doing?”

He exhaled heavily, looked up at her, and started laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” She asked and spread her hands in confusion.

Buggy turned his back to the hood and pulled her closer to him. Catherine immediately wrapped her arms around his neck.

He looked into her eyes and smiled. “How do you make it, so I can't be mad at you for more than ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes? Oh, come on! You didn't talk to me for an hour. And sometimes at home, you sulk at me for two hours! You always walk from corner to corner grumbling, and at this moment you look like a sullen cat!” She made a grumpy face imitating him.

“My little shit!” He took her hand and kissed it. “I’m sorry!”

“Oh my gosh! I will probably someday make the Earth rotate against its axis. Buggy the Clown apologized twice in one day!” She pressed her forehead against his and said quietly. “We did good today, yeah? We had two fights in less than an hour. We're going for the personal record.”

“I.. did--”

“Oh! Don't worry, my silly clown.” Catherine stroked his head and kissed him on his cheek. “This is a relationship. This shit happens sometimes. We're just getting to know each other better, that's all. Besides, if life with you was like a world of pink ponies, I'd go crazy.”

He kept his eyes on her for a long time, slowly running his hands down her back. “Why are you with me? I think you could have found someone better th..”

“Ts!” She pressed her finger to his lips. “I told you. I don't need anyone else. I found the best guy who made to keep my heart beating. Why does it bother you?”

He only shrugged his shoulders.

“Alright, we’ll talk about this later. Okay! I’ll grab a beer and gonna make a fire now. I'll grill sausages for your favorite hot dogs. And if you're not mad at me anymore, finish up here and come to me, okay?”

He nodded.

“Love you, my Hurricane Buggy!” Catherine pecked him in his nose.

“Love you too, my cotton candy.”

She brought beer from the trunk, made a fire, and glanced at him from time to time while she fried sausages. “Are you coming? It's almost done.”

He closed the hood, shook off his hands, took a plaid from the car, came to Catherine and heavily exhaled, collapsed on the ground next to her.

“Tired?” She ran her hand over his head.

“Nah.”

“Do you want mustard or ketchup on your sausage?”

“Both!”

“Then open the ketchup for me, because I can't do it.” Catherine tried to open the bag with her hands.

“Give it to me.” He took the ketchup packet from her hands, pulled a knife out of his denim jacket pocket, cut off the tip, and handed the open packet into Catherine's hands.

"Mmm, delicious." Buggy slowly licked the remaining trace of ketchup off the knife several times.

Catherine looked at him, froze for a second, feeling goosebumps run down her back. "I hate you!"

He looked at her questioningly. “What for now?”

Catherine put a sausage in a bun, sprinkled it all generously with mustard and ketchup, and put the hot dog in his hands.

“Here you go, my blue-haired hero.” She opened two bottles of beer. “How's your hot dog? Tasty?”

Buggy nodded and sipped his beer. Catherine watched him happily eating the bread and sausage, and ran her hand over his bandana.

She couldn't resist and kissed him on his cheek five times. “You're so cute!”

He immediately became red as his nose.

Finishing the hot dog, Buggy set the beer on the ground and threw the plaid over Catherine's shoulders.

“Let me in here!” She spread his legs, rolled over his foot with an "ouch!” and heard “baby, why can't you sit like a normal person”, sat down between them and pressed her back against his chest. “That's much better.”

He hugged her instantly.

“Look at this! So beautiful!” Catherine ran her hands over his arms. “Why haven't we done this before? Sometimes we should just go somewhere in the desert. Make a fire, eat sausages and look at the stars. Just you and me.”

“If you want to, and it will make you happy, we will do it. I’ll do anything to make you the happiest girl in the world, my Cathie-pie.” Buggy took her hand. “See that bright star over there?” He pointed at the sky with their hands holding together.

“Yeah.”

“That's Sirius.”

“Really?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

Catherine laughed, then suddenly sighed heavily and ran her fingers over her wet eyes.

“What's wrong, my cotton candy?” He asked with concern in his voice.

“I.. I don't know. I thought how sad that my parents had died. I miss them. They would have loved you.”

“I don't think your parents would approve of a relationship with a freak with a big nose.” Buggy answered quietly and ran his fingers over her arm.

“Don't say those terrible things about yourself. You are handsome, funny, you take care of me. You love to surprise me. Although you're noisy, overdramatic and sometimes your surprises are ve-e-ry strange.” Сatherine sighed heavily again. “I would really like for you to meet.” She felt how he hugged her tightly and pressed his cheek to her temple. “My mom would be happy for me. After all, her daughter found a mysterious man who’s worth 15 million dollars.”

“Please, don't!” Buggy rolled his eyes.

“What? I'm.. I'm curious. You told me about your trainings on the island and everything else. But you didn’t tell me why you cost a lot of money. Although, I would give more money for you! 15 million isn't enough. 3 billion is fine. And I would also include you in some powerful organization. You would be the most important person there. But if you don't want to tell me, it's okay. Just for your information, I think it's cool. And by the way, you look so hot in that poster.” Catherine took his bottle of beer and took a sip. “What if you really are some kind of scary pirate? I've loved stories about them since I was a child. My father used to tell me a lot of tales about them. You know, we sometimes spent the whole evening in bed rereading "Treasure Island".”

He kissed her temple. “Now that explains a lot.”

“Oh! Wait, wait! What if somewhere in the port of Cairo your ship is docked. And someday you will show it to me, and then you will take me somewhere far far away.” Catherine smoothly pointed into the distance with her hand.

“Cathie-pie, baby, please. Stop.”

She kept silent for a moment. “Do you think we're gonna find that blue diamond?”

He exhaled and put his chin on the top of her head. “I don't know. I hope so. But even if we don't, it'll be one of those stories that we will remember when we grow old. Together.” Buggy quietly accented the last word.

“Judging by the gray hair on your temples and eyebrows, you will grow old before me.”

“Little shit! I'm not much older than you!” He kissed her temple twice.

“Don't you think this reminds you of that adventure we had? The day I found out about your chop chop thing. We were sitting in the desert by the fire.” She ran her finger over his knuckle.

“Of course I remember. That evening when I had my first click.”

“What?” Catherine looked at him in surprise.

His face changed as he realized what he had said. “Fuck! I let it slip.” Buggy seemed a little bit scared.

“Did you fall in love with me then?” Catherine didn't take her eyes of him.

“No, I fell in love with you later. You pissed me off then. Because you were always being hysterical and nagging me. But that day, I didn't understand why a nice girl like you cared about me. And you still do that. And I still don't understand it, though.”

“Well, because you saved that nice girl from a scary man and she couldn't ignore it. Then you saved that nice girl again. And then again. And then somehow that nice girl ended up falling head over heels in love with you. And just you to know, that girl loves taking care of you.” She stroked his cheek and squinted her eyes playfully. “First click… That's interesting. Can I ask?”

“Oh, no! Please, stop asking "when did you fall in love with me" questions.” Buggy looked at her with puppy eyes.

“Why? I'm so interested! Okay, I'll ask you later!”

She invited him with her finger to tilt his head closer to her and kissed him on the lips. She broke the kiss and looked into his eyes.

“You're not leaving me, are you?” Buggy asked with a note of fear in his voice.

“Of course no. I'm so glad I met you, my silly clown. And I'm so glad you didn't let me go home.” She tucked her legs in, curled up, snuggled comfortably under his armpit and covered him with the plaid. “I love you so, so much, my Buggy Bear.”

“You tell me that every day, cotton candy. Aren't you tired?”

“Oh, shut up, I'll say it as many times as I want.”

16 notes · View notes

freddysglove · 2 years

Text

slasher reactions to being surprised with a hug

includes: jason, bubba, michael (OG and RZ), freddy, chucky, tiffany, ghostface (billy and stu), pyramid head, jeff the killer, and amanda.

jason

- he'd automatically assume that it was someone trying to ambush him

- he'd turn around ready to kill whoever the attacker is, but would immediately sheathe when he saw it was you

- he would smile a little under his mask at the sight of you and hug you so hard that he picks you up

- still wouldn't be happy that you could’ve gotten yourself hurt surprising him like that, though

- he couldn’t be actually angry with you, but after you broke the hug he'd shake his head at you in disapproval

bubba

he was working on a new mask for you as a present. while he worked, you came up behind him and startled him; making him accidentally cut the skin halfway up the cheek. you’d spend the next few minutes consoling him while he held his broken gift. after hugging him a bunch and apologizing profusely, you sat down with him and suggested to just stitch the skin up. you could see in his eyes, behind his own stitched-up mask, he had an, “oh. duh.” moment.

- more big hugs after you both finish the mask

- you won’t be surprising him while he works anymore, though

michael

- yeah not a good idea

- he would turn his head and slam you into the wall with one hand on your throat

- not happy with you even after he realizes it’s you

- would stand there for a few more seconds while cutting off the circulation to your brain to make sure you got the hint not to do that again

- after he drops his hand from your throat he’d show zero remorse

- later he might make you some popcorn or throw you a store-bought cookie as an informal apology

if we’re talking about old man myers, he’d remove his hand faster than young michael. peepaw would shake his head at you and glare. in his own way, he was calling you stupid. he gets more tired of your shit the older he is.

michael (rz)

- he’d turn around with his defenses up

- would look down on you while tilting his head

- it would be a bit awkward

- he wouldn’t hug back at all, he’d just stand there like a statue examining your every movement

- when you removed yourself, he’d be just as still as when the hug started

- he would follow you around later blocking your pathways to ask you for a hug without actually “asking”

- he wouldn’t stop until you figured it out

- even after you did, he still wouldn’t hug back

- still, he’d look content and relaxed- which is something you never saw

- you’d have to move his arms yourself if you wanted him to hug you back

- after you did that, though, he’d basically never let go

- ‘perfect, now nothing can touch them without getting through me’

freddy

- “someone miss me?”

- he’d know it was you before you spoke a single word.

- he controls the entire universe around you while you were dreaming, you weren’t sure why you ever thought you could actually surprise him

- he’d turn around and kiss you roughly

- no matter what your intentions were, he’d assume they were sexual

- he’d hug you back, but his hands would always have ulterior motives

- his gloved hand would reach around your torso and cut down your shirt until the fabric fell through the cracks in the catwalk

- voila wet dream

chucky

- would be very startled

- he was reading a book on voodoo when, out of nowhere, he gets picked up off the ground?!

- “what the fuck?” he’d shout

- before he could bend down and bite your arm, he heard your snickering

- “i’m not a stuffed animal. jesus.” he’d complain

- you’d turn him around and laugh at how surprised he still looked

- he’d grumble about how he should just kill you because, “then i wouldn’t have to deal with this kinda crap”

- he’d still let you hug him to your chest, though. no complaints then.

tiffany

- “oh!”

- she’d do a cute little shriek before looking down and recognizing your hands

- she’d giggle and wrap her hands in yours

- “did you miss me, sweetface?”

- she would turn around and plant a gentle kiss on your lips before getting back to what she was doing

- she’d invite you to sit with her while she did her work, though

ghostface (billy)

- his shoulders would immediately go stiff

- he’d turn his head and recognize the smell of your shampoo

- “need something?” he’d ask to hide the fact that he was gaining anything from this

- he rarely ever hugged you back, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t still enjoy your hugs. secretly.

- he didn’t like to show vulnerability, but he was extremely touch deprived

- so he very much appreciated the one-sided hugs you’d give him

ghostface (stu)

- “hey, doll!”

- he’d know it was you without any hints.

- he would turn around and pick you up while laughing to himself

- he loved hugs, but he loved this even more

- walking around with you on him or in his arms made him feel like he owned the world

- he was more than happy to show you off

- often, he was the one to surprise you with a hug

- at parties, he would pick you up off your feet while you were mid-convo with someone else to drop you on the couch and cuddle with you

- you were pretty sure it mostly stemmed from jealousy, but he’d never admit it

pyramid head

you had followed him on one of his hunts, snickering to yourself as you followed closely behind. he had just finished taking out a smaller monster and was moving into another room. in your mind, this was you getting back at him after he scared you several times back when you first met.

- he’d shriek inhumanely in surprise, so loudly that it would make you jump back

- “it’s me, it’s me!” you’d have to repeat as lifted his sword off the ground while walking toward you

- after staring for a few moments, he’d drop it hard on the ground with a loud clunk

- he’d pick you up and throw you on his shoulder so he knew where you were at all times

- if you came with him on any hunts after that, he always had you over his shoulder

- once you got to your home your ribs would be sore from hanging over his back for so long

jeff the killer

- he would finch from the sudden contact

- “what are you doin’?” he’d remove your arms before turning around to glare

- he didn’t like hugs

- especially when he didn’t initiate it

- he heavily preferred cuddling (again, only when he initiated it)

- while in bed, he’d turn to you, usually half asleep, and nuzzle his head into you

- you get brownie points if you play with his hair until he falls asleep

- if you ever spoke to anyone about the cuddling, though, he’d make sure to never do it again

amanda

- amanda would also be a flincher

- you could basically feel her skin jump from the sudden contact

- “hey, you scared me.”

- she’d finally release the tension when she realized it was you

- she’d put down whatever she was doing to wrap her arms and hands around yours and close her eyes

- she didn’t get to relax often, so she really enjoyed these moments

- it would probably transition into holding hands and walking to the bed to cuddle and watch a movie

- since she always made sure to fall asleep before you, she’d hold you while you dozed off

- she would run her fingers through your hair as she watched your sleepy face

edited bonus because i recently watched the movies:

herbert west

- he would be frigid and tense

- "oh, it's you. you startled me."

- intimate physical touch is still pretty foreign to him, so he's not completely comfortable experiencing it yet

- since he's pretty touch starved (and sleep deprived), he would probably melt if you ran your fingers through his hair while hugging him from behind as he sat in his little lab chair

- it can be difficult to tear him away from his work but that's definitely one way to do it

- i don't think he'd be too big with kissing, but he would return your affection by putting down what he was working on and touching your other hand gently

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babiebom · 9 months

Text

Dbd Killers as Nicknames my friends and I use in game

A/N: because i think. I only have like one thing posted for dbd. These are the Male Killers!

Tw:maybe cursing? None? Slight sexualization of certain killers?

Genre:headcanons? Or written like headcanons at least

Wc: maybe 3+ for each killer?

The Trapper/Evan Macmillan

Has no nickname

Is just "the trapper"

Always said in a panic tho

Is usually called a "stupid stupid man"

The Clown/Jeffrey Hawk

"Oh it's *imitation of him coughing*"

His nickname is just us coughing in gross ways

Also "you absolute baboon" by when we're upset

The Ghostface/Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson

My boyfriend

I exclusively call him this

Everyone else says "oh no your boyfriend is here"

Or we call him Ghost-a Fa-che in really bad italian accents

The Executioner/Pyramid Head

Conehead

Forgot the word pyramid

Also trianglehead

Usually proceeded or followed by "ewwwwww why is he sludging up the place????"

The Twins/Victor Deshayes

Ugly little baby

We forgot that he is not really a baby

We also call him Viktor Vector

Usually followed by "kill her little baby"

Or "stomp on himmmmm"

Then "yeah that's what you get you ugly baby"

The Mastermind/Albert Wesker

Lil Kitty Meow Meow

Bc I accidentally called him whisker

And that reminded me of the Lil kitty meow meow meme

Is usually followed by his "urgh" when he does the dashy thing

The Nemesis/Nemesis

Nemesussy

It was a slip of the tongue that stuck

I also call him Thanos half the time

I forget his name and panic

Then call him Thanos because big purple man

Usually proceeded by "oh god it's Thanos I can see his stupid little zombies"

The Doctor/Herman Carter

Has no nickname but is usually called out by saying "sorry I can't talk right now he's ELECTROCUTING ME"

followed by imitations of his laugh

The Legion/Frank&Joey

I do not know how to write this

It's literally just The Legion but pronounced with a very bad French accent

Also Franklin or Frankie-boy

And Josepher and "which one is this one again"

The Trickster/Jiwoon Hak

We either call him Trickster

Or Jungkook from Bts(yes this whole thing)

Is usually followed by "bob and weave and bob and weave"

Or is followed by "please dont kamsahamnida me"

The Wraith/ Phillip Ojomo

Bing Bong

Because when he hits his little thing it goes Bing Bong

Usually proceeded by "oh god" and "please don't be bingbong"

Usually followed by "oh god where did he go"

The Hillbilly/ Max Thompson Jr

We just call him by Max

I usually call him Maxie-poo

Cute

The Cannibal/ Bubba Sawyer

Like Max we just call Bubba by Bubba

Bubba is a cute nickname in of itself

The Oni/Kazan Yamaoka

Onigiri

Because I said "Oni? Like onigiri?"

Followed by screaming or "someone stop him he's eating my blood"

The Deathslinger/Caleb Quinn

Rootie tootie mcshooty shooty

Because it's funny

Also sometimes call him the hashslinger

Or hashslinging slashed

From spongebob because we again forgot his name

The Shape/Michael Myers

Miku Miku

Because I panicked when I saw him and could not speak or remember his name for the life of me

Usually followed by "oh god this is gonna be a bad match"

Also followed by singing the song but only by saying Bing and bong.

The Nightmare/Freddy Kreuger

"Ew its stupid what's his face....sleepytime....nightnight"

Has no real nickname because we're not happy to see him

"Why is there blood coming out of this...oh."

"Haha your neck is bent weird"

The Blight/Talbot Grimes

Incoherent screaming

Literally it's "uhhhh HA HUHHHH WHA HELP"

Followed by "why is he so fast?"

Or is called speedy Gonzales or Sonic

The Knight/Tarhos Kovács

I have accidentally called him the borgo

We also just call him the knight or just scream

The Cenobite/Elliot Spencer

Pinhead

I find it funny that that is an actual name for him

Because we usually call him that

The Demogorgon(?)

Or "stupid pinhead" but you get the gist

Also BabyBox

Bad doggie

He is a dog that is bad because he keeps biting me with his weird little face

The Dredge(?)

Is this thing a male? Idk but it counts

Again we are bad at remembering names

Half the time he is called the sludge

Usually followed by "why is it nighttime"

#dead by daylight #dead by daylight killer #dead by daylight headcanons #dbd shitpost #dbd headcanons #dbd killer #dbd #dbd ghostface #dbd doctor #dbd wraith #dbd wesker #dead by daylight shitpost #dbd male killers #dead by daylight male killers #slashers #slasher headcanons

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khasiehondra · 1 year

Text

A Shadow of an Eagle Chapter 1: I’ve Met My Match: Sebastian

Normally, Sebastian would be halfway through his second plate of breakfast by now, but the girl from the night before was too intriguing. Her head was already in a book and classes hadn’t even started. Makes sense, bloody Ravenclaws. Guess she fits in perfectly. He was still disappointed when he lost the bet. He thought that if the rumors of her run in with a dragon were true, then she would be a Gryffindor and they would be rivals for the rest of their days.

“If she was able to survive a dragon attack, I bet she has to be smart, or at the very least immensely creative,” Ominis had said to him the night before.

She was sitting next to Samantha Dale, poor dueler, great at Summoner’s Court. The new girl would smile up at her from her book and join in the conversation from time to time, but always returning to her book. She had barely touched her toast and bacon, probably nervous. I wonder if she’s in Defense Against the Dark Arts with us? I can set her place on the pyramid rather quickly.

“I don’t know exactly what is going through that brain of yours, but if you keep staring at the new student instead of eating, I refuse to hear you complain about how you’re starving.” Sebastian had completely forgotten that his best friend had sat down next to him only a few minutes ago. “You’re still wondering how someone who fought a dragon would be more attached to a book than adventure? Give it a rest, you lost 3 Sickels.”

“Easy for you to say,” Sebastian retorted, “Coming from one of the most prestigious bloodlines and a high-class family. Even if you did lose it wouldn’t have hurt your pockets.”

Ominis shook his head, “The point is, if she found her home that is all that matters. Overhearing what her housemates say, they all adore her.”

Sebastian could see why, she embodied grace, elegance and strength. Definitely should have won the bet. Patting Ominis on the shoulder, Sebastian said, “C’mon, we’ve got Charms first. Can’t get detention on the first day back.”

“I won’t, but I can’t make any promises for you.” Smirking, Sebastian and Ominis left the Great Hall and made their way toward the South Tower.

He had somehow ended up in a conversation with Ominis and Leander. Leander was boasting about how he had been able to travel across Europe with his aunt this summer. Underneath it all, he was basically trying to say he was better than him. Not Ominis, people knew not to mess with the Gaunts. I think I’m going to lose my mind if he says ‘my family is friends with’ one more time.

“Aye, Sebastian,” Leander nudged his arm. “I think I learned enough from a couple of my uncle’s friends this summer that I am finally a better duelist than you.” There is was, the last fuck he gave. Giving the boy a lop-sided smirk he bit back, “We’ve got DADA next, how about you put your wand where your mouth is? Or did you forget that I was last year’s Crossed Wands champion?”

Leander’s words were lost when she came in. She was a little breathless, who could blame her? We’ve had four years to get used to those blasted stairs. Someone should really let her know about the floo network, Sebastian thought. It took a minute for Sebastian to notice that a smile was plastered Leander’s face and he looked ready to call out to her. The smile faded quickly when he noticed Natty had gotten her attention first.

Confused, the new girl made her way over to the set in the back next to Natty. Sebastian could tell she was nervous. Guess she’s shy. Surprising, since everyone seems to love her. “She’s beautiful isn’t she?” It was as if Leander was transfigured into a lovesick puppy with he stupid look on his face. “I hear she is genuinely sweet and she’s humble too. A real lady.”

“Do you even know her name?” Ominis asked. The flush didn’t extend past his neck, but Ominis had definitely brought Leander back to earth.

“I don’t completely recall. Haven’t really had time to talk to her,” he grumbled.

“Yet you know she is ‘genuinely sweet and humble,’” Ominis poked. He was enjoying this game. Sebastian couldn’t help but smile.

She was a cute girl no doubt. Long wavy hair, a nice smile, big doe eyes. He could see why the boys in the Slytherin bathrooms had already placed bets on who would win her over. A hefty sum of money was on Garreth, apparently.

Professor Ronen had taken his review seriously from last year. Class was fun and included a nice game of Summoner’s Court. Ominis had beaten Imelda fairly quickly. She threw a fit when they took their seats back on the grass.

“This is unfair,” she scoffed. “I bet your wand senses more than just where the balls are. I bet it can calculate exactly when you need to let go.”

“Geez, Imelda, you must be having a rotten day if you’re accusing a blind man of seeing too well.” Sebastian knew she would cool off soon, she was always a bad loser. He was about to add to the conversation when Ronen called up the next group.

“Finally, we will have Miss Onai and Miss Shaw. Let’s end this with a bang.” Professor Ronen was gleaming with pride. His lesson was leaps and bounds better than it was the last five years. The student's engagement added to the gleam on his face.

“Now if we only knew her first name.” Leander had popped out of nowhere.

Sebastian turned and saw Samantha off to the side with Cressida. Curiosity got the better of him. “Pst, Samantha.” He gestured to her to scoot closer. “You’re in the same house, what’s Shaw’s name?”

Always chipper, Samatha spoke behind her hand in a whisper, attempting to watch the game. “Alice, Alice Shaw. She’s a half-blood. Dad thought she would be a squib, but was very happy when he took after her. They lived in London most of her childhood.” Bless this girl for being in the nosiest house in the castle.

“Spectacular, are you roommates?”

“Yeah,” her smile basically took up her whole face. “We talked about plants and home all night. She couldn’t sleep so we stayed in the common room. I would say I think I made a great choice in friends.”

When they all turned their heads back to the game, Alice had released her spell and won the game by fifty points.

He was on a roll this year. Early to class twice in one day. Leander had decided to stick with Sebastian and Ominis. Once they entered the classroom, Sebastian remembered what he had said to him in Charms.

“Hey, what do you say we settle this now. Ready for a duel?” He set his bag down on a desk and pushed the desks to the side with a flick of his wand. “Or are you scared that I’ll continue to beat you?”

Others had started to file in, but how could they not watch the Crossed Wands champion hold his title. Grinning, Leander walked to the front of the room. “Ready yourself.”

“Stupefy!” Sebastian was always the first to attack. His opponent had used protego and repeated the same spell back. “Protego!” He had to think fast, what was something he couldn’t see coming?

Sebastian blasted two basic spells before Leander tried to stupefy again. Annoyed, Sebastian decided to bring in the show, “Bombarda!”

Opps. He had missed by a good amount…a tall amount. He had ended up hitting the dragon above him. Instead of moving, it seemed Leander was rooted to the spot.

“Levioso!” Thank heavens for Professor Hecat. “I get new students every year but I only have one Hebridean Black skull. It is a token from the Great poacher Raid of 1878.” She slowly made her way down the steps from her office. “No doubt you’ve heard of it.” Sebastian couldn’t hear anything after that. That was close. If that had fallen I doubt I would just get detention this time. It’s a good thing everyone else was on the sidelines. He snapped back to attention when he heard Leander complain they were to be learning a levitation spell. Next moment he was in the air.

“A surprised opponent is a weak opponent. Care to defend yourself,master Prewett? No?” He couldn’t help the smug look that crossed his face. Just then he saw Alice in the corner of his eye. She was soaking in everything the old lady was saying.

After they had practiced on a feather and the training dummy, Professor Hecat decided it was time to show the use of Levioso in a duel. He started to walk up to the front when Hecat declared, “We’ll start with you two.”

It was her. She held her face blank but her eyes smiled. Sebastian couldn’t tell if she was excited to duel or if all this magic was leaving her in awe. Might as well have some fun with this one. He slowed his pace and leaned in toward her face as he passed her, “Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome.” He chuckled as he walked away, turning back to see the tips of her ears had gone slightly pink. Still got it I see.

By the time he was prepared to start with a basic cast there was a red light coming toward his chest. It knocked him back and caused him to have to regain his footing. Just in time, Sebastian saw the next cast approaching. “Protego.” As soon as his shields fell he was struck by a yellow light. He remembered why he wasn’t a fan of flying class in the first year. His feet left the ground and he had to fight to get back. He was able to send back two basic casts before he was struck with another levioso.

“You’re joking,” he grunted.

Alice was able to block three of the four next spells that he sent toward her. Even when she stumbled back, he couldn’t land the levioso. When he took a second to assess the situation he noticed the glimmer in her eyes. There was so much life in them. This dance was fun for her. He hadn’t felt this way in a while.

They continued this back and forth until she finally caught his square in the chest with another levitation spell and rounded back with a basic cast while he was still in the air. The fall to the arse didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as the blow to his ego. That feeling of disappointment vanished when he saw how excited she was. Alice was bouncing on her toes from winning. It didn’t last long as she ran over and offered her hand to him.

When he was up she stayed put in front of him. “Not bad for a beginner,” he said, brushing the dust from the floor off his uniform. “You give as good as you get.” He smiled and let out a chuckle. He continued past her and stood in the back by Ominis.

“I can’t believe she beat you. You!” He was shaking his head in disbelief. “Looks like you’re either out of practice or are in for a run of your title.”

Sebastian wore a smile, crossing his arms, “I hope she gives me a run for my Galleons.” When Hecat dismissed class, Sebastian noticed that she had stayed back. “Ominis,” he called after his friend. “Go on without me, I’ll catch you up at the Great hall for lunch.” He didn't wait for a response but placed himself at the back where Alice would have to pass him.

He almost missed her as she was hurrying out. “Nice work.” He wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

She didn’t look surprised but her face lit up again. “I enjoyed that.”

“That duel was quite something. Everyone’ll be talking about it.”

“It was certainly good practice.” She still held her smile, but he could see right through it.

“Practice? It felt more like I was dueling an expert.” He hoped the annoyance didn’t come off in his voice. “Sebastian Sallow, by the way. Didn’t expect a new student to be so deft with a wand. Then again,” he paused, “perhaps this wasn’t your first duel.” Alice’s shoulders tensed a bit. Good to know she is a horrible liar, he thought.

“In fact, it was. Perhaps I have a knack for it.”

Bollocks. “Be coy if you like, but I know better. Magic requires intention and talent.” The glow she had had started to damper, he needed to recover quickly if he wanted to keep an eye on her. “ You know, you might be a perfect fit for a certain exclusive, unsanctioned dueling organization.”

She had so many tells. Her eyes brightened with curiosity and challenge. I see the Ravenclaw now, it suits her perfectly. “Exclusive and Unsanctioned? Count me in.”

“Excellent,” Sebastian stood a little taller and eased up. It was time to get in her head a little. “Knew I was right about you. If you want to get the most out of your time at Hogwarts, you’re going to need to break the rules now and then.” He leaned in her space just a little. “Whether it’s joining a secret dueling club or sneaking into the Restricted Section of the Library-you just have to be clever enough not to get caught.”

“Thank you, Sebastian,” she was assessing him. The light air around her turned cautious. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good, pleasure chatting with you. I’m sure I’ll see you soon. Perhaps somewhere ‘unsanctioned’. Perhaps we’ll see if your performance today was sheer luck-or actual skill. I’ll send you an owl.”

He didn’t even notice the blush that had crept onto her face. He withheld a wink as he turned to head to the Great Hall. As he was about to round down the stairs, he looked over his shoulder and saw her stand in the hall, hands to her cheeks. She shook her head rather harshly and ran in the direction of Professor Fig’s classroom.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x oc #sebastian sallow x playable character #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt #ominis x poppy #poppy sweeting #natsai onai #smut #sebastian sallow smut #slow burn #sebastian sallow x ravenclaw

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pandulce135 · 5 months

Note

HI!! You don’t understand how unbelievably happy I am to see someone writing for Glenn close because I am in love with that man. Can I request an x reader where the reader is the assistant coach to the kids soccer team. They’re very sweet and look after the dads as a cleric but can be a little overbearing. They’re always worrying about something and trying to mediate inner group conflicts because theyre afraid of the group breaking apart. Glenn and the reader sort of even each other out in that they keep him from doing anything too stupid & he knows how to get them to loosen up. Sorry if I did this wrong, I don’t send many requests ^^

It Can Take A While (Glenn Close x Reader)

A/N: Boy oh BOY was this fun to write. I’m getting back into the swing of writing so I hope this kind of fulfilled your simple simp desires cuz I sure know it filled mine. I need to find my writing style again but until then, here’s this!!!

Warnings: Spoilers of around episodes 20-30-ish of S1 with some creative liberties taken, loser of the sexiest podcast character poll (rip), alcohol, public make outs, swearing, gets kind of steamy by the end, lmk if there’s anything else. reader is a nerd

Word Count: 2.8k

It was another long day that passed in the foreign land that you quickly discovered was known as the Forgotten Realms. Tensions were high as your group traveled in the white Honda Odyssey with Darryl at the helm and Henry in the passenger seat. The boys, your sons, were still missing, taken by mysterious men in purple robes. Everyone was tired.

The two in the front were going at it, their difference in views was beginning to get the best of them… again. Beside you, in the back seat and behind the passenger was Glenn. In the very back were Ron and Paeden.

“Hey, hey,” Paeden’s nasally voice hovered over your shoulder. He sat directly behind you. You flinched and rubbed your ear against your shoulder as a discomforting tingling wave made its way down your side. You heard Glenn chuckle.

“Oh, dude, don’t do that.” You shifted to get a better view of Paeden. “What’s up?”

The boy behind you sniffed. “What are they fighting about?” He gestured to the pair in the front. They seemed to be getting more angry as their voices began to rise.

“They just have different opinions about things, bud, don’t stress it,” Glenn seemed to wave off their fighting as it was something that happened often. They always butted heads due to their differing opinions; from parenting styles to personal beliefs, they found a way to antagonize each other.

You wished you could be as chilled out as Glenn sometimes. You wouldn’t get so anxious about the group arguing so much. Somehow, you always find yourself being mediator. That’s just what you’ve always been good at, you guess. As assistant soccer coach (a position Darryl was angry at you for ‘stealing from him’), it was your job to promote everyone to be their best self. Arguing wouldn’t get anyone anywhere. It wasn’t constructive, only critical and you were all desperate to get your sons back.

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about? I’m sorry I can’t live with the fact that we killed over one-hundred people with that pyramid, Darryl.”

There it was.

Henry was the first one to let his anger really get to him. While he refuses to get angry with his sons, he has no qualms with getting angry at anyone in the group. Just an observation, you supposed.

“We need to be able to get our sons back, and we can’t do that if we’re facing whatever justice system is in place.” Darryl barked back.

There was a collective soft sigh in the back of the van, even from Ron, as the pair bickered.

“Darryl, if you’re going to fight, please park the car. We can talk this out.” Your voice was calm, as you spoke your suggestion. “We’re all tired and scared, and your emotions are valid, but if your emotions are going to get the better of you like this, then you should park the car,” you reiterated, leaning forward in your seat to be closer to the two men in the front. “Have a discussion, not an argument.”

Glenn, from your right, spoke up. “Well, I think arguments can be just as constructive as discussions.” You turned to him, furrowing your eyebrows together. “I’m just saying.”

“No, no, they’re right. Let’s park the car, and we can have a civilized discussion,” Henry relented with a gesture of his hand.

“Oh, great, we’re stopping.” Ron’s voice came from the back, sparking a moment of silence for him. “I really have to use the bathroom.”

“Okay, okay.” Darryl took a breath. “We’ll stop, Ron does what he needs to do, and we can workshop a way to get our sons back.”

There was a tense silence that followed Darryl’s statement as he started slowing down the car to a bumpy stop. Everyone began to pile out of the minivan and Ron rushed to get to a private area to relieve himself within the forest you stood in.

All around you, trees towered over you and bushes threatened to stab your legs. The ground was uneven and you wondered how the Odyssey’s suspension was holding up. The group of you had been traveling on this uneven terrain for weeks now and it hadn’t undergone substantial damage yet.

“What’s this really going to accomplish? Huh?” Darryl looked at you, his larger stature standing over you with his arms crossed.

You placed your hands on your hips. “For starters, so that no one would get hurt in case you lost your cool while driving.” Darryl was about to object when you held out a finger to stop him. “Also to actually have a face to face conversation with everyone involved. You two aren’t the only ones going through this. It’s not fair to us if you leave us out of the conversation.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry we did that,” Henry spoke from beside Darryl.

“You are forgiven,” Ron’s voice came from beside you. You felt your heart drop as you jumped away, your hand flying to your chest.

“Jesus, Ron,” you breathed out, placing a hand on the nearest person’s shoulder to feign support. Your hand landed on a worn down leather and you know you placed it on Glenn. He, Darryl and Henry laughed.

Yet another day of nipping an argument in the bud.

“You don’t like Christmas music?” Glenn exclaimed, causing you to shush him. You two were up talking by a makeshift fire while the rest of the dads were fast asleep. Neither of you could sleep and ended up chatting away.

You let out a laugh. “I loathe Christmas music. My retail gigs in college sucked.” You leaned back with your hands on the soft earth while he leaned in close, the orange flames highlighting his face against the darkness.

“You probably like Linkin Park, too.” He rolled his eyes and sat with his elbows on his knees, his feet flatfooted on the ground.

You faltered, struggling to come up with a response that wouldn’t upset him. It probably showed on your face.

“No!” He whined, his head rolling back before snapping upright to face you again. “Really? Linkin Park?”

“They got me through school! You can’t be mad at me!” You pointed a finger at him from across the fire.

“I forget you’re a nerd. What was your major again?” This time, Glenn leaned forward, the brightness of the fire once again illuminating his face and reflecting off of his eyes. It was almost like he was asking seriously.

You scratched the back of your head, your eyes averting his. “Computer science- cybersecurity.”

“So you’re a huge nerd!” Glenn laughed and you had to shush him again. “So what, you can like, hack stuff with what you learned?”

“Well, I’m paid to do the opposite,” you explained before a grin took hold over your lips. “But I have done a bit of hacking before.” The pair of you laughed as Glenn processed the information.

“No way. Goody-two-shoes you? Hacking?” Glenn leaned forward agin, his eyes squinted in humor. “Dude, you gotta show me sometime.”

You shook your head. “A hacker never reveals their secrets.” You turned away from the musician.

“Ah, playing hard to get, are we?” Glenn’s brown eyes narrowed at you, a sly grin exposing a bit of teeth. A heat ran up from your chest to your neck, where it crawled the rest of the way up to your face with a burn.

You turned away in an attempt to hide yourself. “Shut up, Close.”

“Get your head out of your ass for two seconds, Glenn!” You shouted. The rest of the dads were off trying to resolve an issue Glenn started while he and you stood behind a tavern. You were getting sick of his attitude. If the other dads were here, you knew they would be shocked at your yelling.

“Yeah? Where else would you like my head to be? Huh?” He took a step toward you, and it took all your willpower to not take a step back from him. You had to hold your ground and your eyes remained locked with his. He was definitely insinuating something else, you weren’t stupid, but you weren’t about to let him get the best of you.

“Maybe somewhere where you’ll be more aware of the situation?” You suggested, sarcasm laced through your words. “Dammit, Glenn. With all the touring you’ve done, you can’t fucking realize when to shut your damn mouth? You nearly blew it in there for us.” You pointed at the tavern you stood behind. The rest of the dads were in there.

“I didn’t think it would go south like that!” He tried to defend but you spoke up before he could get anything else out.

“Do you think at all?” You were nearly nose to nose apart from each other. Your anger seeped off of you as you glared at the man before you. Your eyes glaring straight into his and his were locked on yours just as harshly. Until you noticed the slight movement in his eyes. Glenn glanced downward slightly before holding your stare again. A heat began to flood your cheeks.

“You’d be surprised how much is on my mind lately.” His voice came out soft, unlike before, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What?” Your own volume matched his as his eyes glanced down again. You knew what he was looking at. The sudden change in tone caught you off guard. Your heart beat heavy in your chest, and you even heard it in your head.

Glenn reached out for your hand to hold it in his. You felt your blush worsen. He held your gaze, but it wasn’t as harsh as before. Instead, it was warm and welcoming. There was something else that took you by surprise: shyness. “I-”

Behind you, you heard the snap of a tree branch and turned yourself around just in time to see Henry appear from the side of the tavern. You managed to put enough distance between you and Glenn so you wouldn’t appear to be too close or… intimate.

“Hey, guys,” Henry greeted. He looked tired, the bags under his eyes were deep and dark and you didn’t know if it was because of the whole journey or just from having to clean up Glenn’s mess. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

You coughed and tried to get your cheeks to cool off. “No, nothing. How did it go?” You asked, taking a few steps forward toward the taller blond man.

“We managed to cool off the situation inside. We’ve got a few rooms for us to sleep in for the night, too.” He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “I feel like I need to say this now, to avoid any potential disasters: there is a bar in there. Drink responsibly. We still have stuff to do.”

“Aw, hell yeah,” Glenn cheered from behind you. You couldn’t help but put your hand on your forehead.

“Don’t have too much fun, Glenn.” Henry shot a pointed look at the man in question before walking up and whispering in your ear. “Please keep an eye on him.”

“Hold on,” you pulled away from Henry. “Why do I have to be on baby sitting duty?” Henry simply turned around and began his departure from you to go back into the tavern. “Henry,” you tried. “Henry, not cool dude.”

You watched as he turned the corner, thus disappearing from your view before turning around to Glenn. He wore a shit eating grin. You sighed. “I need a drink.”

“Fuck yeah!”

You didn’t know how you were still functioning. You were three ales deep with a fourth in your hand as you leaned on Glenn. Somehow, throughout this entire adventure, he didn’t smell all that bad. He actually smelled of fresh soil and very woodsy. His free hand sat at your waist while yours was hanging onto the shoulder your head leaned on. He was on his fourth ale as well, but was holding a water for the two of you to share.

The rest of the dads decided to call it for the night and retired to the rooms they reserved earlier. It was rest well deserved, you’d say. You appreciated their ability to cool off the situation to ultimately get comfortable beds to rest in and alcohol to fill your stomach (and head).

“This stuff is strong.” You couldn’t help but nuzzle your cheek into his leather clad shoulder, his still shockingly soothing scent wafting its way to your nose. “I didn’t think it would be so crowded here tonight.”

“It’s a bar, these places always get packed this time of night,” Glenn’s smooth voice spoke into your ear and a chill ran down your spine. The blush that plagued your face before was coming back tenfold. The heat burned and you were nearly sure Glenn could feel it through his leather jacket. “Is it too much for you?” The question caught you off guard.

He was usually so full of himself. Checking up on you? That was almost unheard of on this little adventure you’ve been on. You felt his hand tighten on your waist, almost urging an answer out of you. You felt a lump form in your throat as your breath got caught.

“Oh, uhh,” you struggled with your words. You looked down at the ale in your hand and moved to slam it back until his hand moved from your waist and caught your wrist. You moved to face him. “Glenn!” You whined.

“You were supposed to be the one taking care of me,” he laughed at your growing frown. “If I let you drink this, will you drink some water?” His brown eyes held yours in an amused stare.

You peaked down at the two cups in your respective hands before looking back up at him. “I promise.” Your words came out in a slur, the syllables blending into each other to form a barely cohesive response.

He let go of your wrist and you moved faster than you knew Glenn thought you would. You slammed back the ale and stumbled into his chest. There was a rumble that resonated through his chest as he laughed at you.

His arms instinctively wrapped around you to keep you steady. “Since when were you such a party goer?” His voice rang in your head as it buzzed. Your world was feeling woozy but you felt like you were floating. You missed this feeling.

“Oh,” you chuckled, a grin stretching across your lips. You peered up at him through half lidded eyes and your blush was finally beginning to to get under control. “You would’ve loved me during my college years.”

“Yeah?” His facial expression mirrored yours. The water in his hand had been discarded on the bar next to you in favor of holding you to him. “Pray tell.”

“Why tell when I can show you?” Talk about liquid confidence. You leaned in, nose to nose with Glenn. Your alcoholic breaths colliding as your hands began to slide up his arms and around his neck. The front of your chest was pressed against his. He was locked in place just as you were.

“You’re speaking my language,” his said, speaking with a sultry tone you’ve never heard from him before. And Gods was it hot.

It was like a force brought your lips together and you couldn’t let go. Your fingers raked through his shoulder length black hair, holding him to you. His hands slid up and down your back and you felt a chill run down your spine and goosebumps appear along your arms. The hairs at the back of your neck stood as his hands finally rested at your hips.

He pinched at one side of your hips and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a small gasp. With a chuckle, his tongue met yours in a dance, twirling around each other. Out of instinct, you let out a moan which caused him to pull back an inch, a trail of saliva still connecting you. With his sudden disappearance, you had to fight off the urge to whine.

You looked up at him, breathless and flushed. He looked the same. It was a good look on him. Red cheeks, swollen lips, breathing a bit heavier than normal but not completely out of breath. His warmth returned to the side of your face as he leaned into your ear.

“How about we continue this somewhere else?”

#I told you i would do it #he deserves some good fanfic after taking that L #glenn close dndads #dndads glenn close #glenn close x reader #glenn close #glenn close x gn reader #gn reader #dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads fanfic #fanfic #writing #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction

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