#I love Will Young throwing shapes in the background

[calumfmu]

tell me its a bit

"Steve, can I ask you something? What are we doing?"

He pulled away fully to look at you, brows knitted together in confusion as his eyes went back and forth between your eyes and mouth. "Uhh.. sex?"

He loved the cat and mouse game you had once started, not choosing to end it despite him being yours and you being his, despite titles given.

or; the extended version of Baby, No Attachment: Steve continues to reveal his true self to you.

cw: 18+, mdni, soft!Stevie, smut, teasing, spanking (brief), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, wrap it up kids, cream pie, hair pulling, slight choking kink if you squint, yada yada yaddaaaa (2.8k+ words)

The Steve you had become so accustomed to had been different in the last few weeks since that car ride. Treating you with grace and kindness, he tended to your needs no matter what they were. It had taken some time getting used to, always feeling like he was lying about something despite giving you no reason to believe so. His act had shaped up, him treating you like the princess he had once called you, not hesitating to leap whenever you said jump.

He loved the cat and mouse game you had once started, not choosing to end it despite him being yours and you being his, despite titles given. Still sneaking into your bedroom window at all hours of the day, throwing rocks at the glass, throwing himself at you in the back of his BMW whenever he had the chance, no matter the welcoming arms your mom held for him (she was still his favorite). It made you feel like a young preteen again, the excitement of this romance pulling at your heartstrings in every possible good way there was.

The window was open, blowing in cold air as late winter made its final claim in Hawkins. Bedroom curtains were bunched up at the windowsill, caught up from where he had fallen through, shoes kicked off at the bottom. His jacket was thrown somewhere on the floor, half draped over the radio that softly played George Michael in the background. He had insisted on turning it on, whispering ‘We’re gonna get caught’ despite you urging ‘My mom loves you, shut up’. It didn’t stop him, silent moans filling the air as he touched you, your bodies so familiar with one another.

You were pressed into the mattress, both mouths slotted together as one of his hands snaked at your chest, slowly unbuttoning your top as he half-laid on you. His bulge ground into your thigh, small gasps escaping his mouth as you tugged at his hair.

Pulling away slightly, you mumbled into his mouth, “Steve, can—can I ask you something?”

He barely nodded, moving his weight over you to push you further into the bed. The hand at your chest moved to caress your hip, fingers splayed wide across the skin.

“What are we doing?”

He pulled away fully to look at you, brows knitted together in confusion as his eyes went back and forth between your eyes and mouth.

“Uhh… sex?” He laughed, leaning into you to return to his previous position. You stopped him with a touch to his chest. He looked even more confused than he did previously, shaking his head at you.

“No, Steve,” you sighed, slightly rolling your eyes at his comment. One thing you learned about him was that the boy loved playing dumb, especially when it came to actually discussing important things. “Like what are we?”

Realization crossed his face as his eyebrows shot up, an ‘O’ formed between his lips. The look went away as quickly as it appeared, a smirk given to you.

“You’re my girl, right?” He returned his mouth to yours, moving his hand lower to run across your inner thigh. Frustrated, you pushed him completely off of you, noticing the way he just looked so shocked at your fast movement.

He remained silent as you sat up, turning your body to look at him as he was laid on the bed, stuck in the position that he fell in. His hair tussled over his face, eyebrows raised and hands slightly up as he seemed to be awaiting your next move.

“Are you serious?” Your voice was raised, anger between your eyes as you looked down at him. He seemed small in the moment, a red blush crossing his cheeks.

“Do you not want to be?”

“No, Ste—” you cut yourself off with a sigh as you pinched your nose bridge, pulling your knees to your chest. You searched for the patience to deal with him, not understanding why he didn’t get it. “Steve. That’s not what I mean.”

“Well… what do you mean? I thought we were, like, together,” he asked, voice small compared to yours as he slowly sat up. He raised to lean on one hand, the other being placed on your knee, rubbing the skin.

You shot your eyes open to look at him, a loud cackle thrown at him that caused his face to fall. You felt bad to laugh at him, realizing that this ‘King Steve’ who had fallen from grace had so much to learn about girls, despite revolving his life around them.

“Together?” He pulled away from you, moving to sit at the end of the bed with his back turned to you. You saw him lean over on his knees, heard him clear his throat in discomfort. “Babe…”

He ignored the nickname as you moved to perch behind him, pulling him so his back was pressed to your chest, your head resting at his shoulder. Wrapping your arms around him, you felt him relax into the embrace, head tilting onto yours. With your legs on opposite sides of his hips, you leaned into him, the size difference between the two of you causing you to melt.

“Babe… we’re not together because… you never asked me,” you whispered, pressing kisses to his cheek in the pauses of your words. His head turned to look at you, shock the only emotion you could decipher.

“I never asked you?”

“No, dummy,” you giggled, pressing kisses to his cheek and jawline interchangeably. He fucking giggled at the touches of your lips on his skin, tilted his head to try to ‘avoid’ them, yet he made no other effort to move—you knew he loved it.

“Well, do you want to be my girl th—my girlfriend then?” He asked you, looking at you through long lashes, blinking slow as he became shy. You pressed your lips together, shaking your head, laughing as his mouth dropped open at you.

“No?” His voice raised a pitch, suddenly moving so you fell into his arms with a loud laugh. Steve pressed kisses to your nose this time, nuzzling his face into yours as he held you.

“That’s not going to cut it, Harrington.” His last name fell from your lips in a faux-mock, you haven’t muttered his last name since the two of you made amends, if you wanted to call it that—really it actually was just the two of you fucking for the first time in the back of his car. It felt foreign to you, cheesy nicknames shared behind closed doors and whiny drawls of each other's names replacing it.

He paused for a moment, face inches away from your own as he studied you. Drawing your eyes over his features, you took note of the moles dotting his face, constellations drawn in the beauty marks that you loved to trace your fingers over. Steve Harrington was a beauty, a wonder that you felt so grateful to have between your fingertips. Words couldn’t describe the feelings you had bubbling in your chest for him, he was everything and more you had thought him to be.

His breath hit your face with a flutter of your eyes closed, enjoying the bliss of being in his arms.

“You’re going to make me work for it, princess?” The nickname he used to call you had you shivering, arousal pooling between your thighs. His voice dropped an octave, a chill through your spine at the lowness.

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as he leaned into you, pressing a kiss to your mouth.

“I can do that,” he whispered back, deepening the kiss as he maneuvered the two of you to the previous position you held, you on your back, legs sprawled with him in between. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at it as he ground down into you.

“What else are you going to make me work for?”

One of his hands trailed down the length of your abdomen, fingertips dancing over your stomach before settling at your groin. Your legs widened without a second thought, hips arching onto the touch. He began to work a small circle over your clothed clit, the material dampening as your wetness deepened.

“Ah—” your voice cut off as you tried to respond to him, his fingers working magic as you began to fall apart.

“Not so much to say now, yeah?” He laughed at you, mouthing at your neck as a breathy sigh escaped you. As much as you hated to admit it, you loved this side of him, the cockiness that once was returning to your lover boy, dominating the situation as he made you melt.

“Shut it, Harrington.”

The only words you were able to mutter before he took over, filling up your senses with his body against yours. He was overwhelming, crowding your brain with thoughts of him, thoughts of his touch, his everything. His fingers began to creep lower, pushing your panties to the side as he ran a finger over your slit.

He leaned up to nip at your ear, teeth digging at the lobe of skin, your neck craning to the side as you exhaled in pleasure.

"Not quite sure I like that name anymore," he whispered against your skin, tongue darting out to lick at the skin beneath your ear. He exhaled against you, the coolness of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"You-"

You couldn't speak as he began to tease you, finger inching into you slightly, just for him to remove it, reaching up to toy with your clit ever-so-slightly.

"I?" He dragged out the letter, leaning back to smirk down at you as he questioned what you were going to say. Irritation crossed your features as you took him in between hooded eyes, lids fluttering shut as he took his teasing to a new level.

His hand left your underwear, grasping your hand between his as he grinded against you. His clothed crotch rubbed between your legs, an exasperated sigh leaving you.

"Steve."

Your tone was firm this time, chastising him as he pushed your leg up with his own. Your free hand reached down to grab at the top of his jeans, fingertips dancing over the button there.

"Yes, princess?" His breath grew a little more shallow, his head dipping to watch your fingers slowly unbutton his jeans, the zip sliding down audibly in the room. His bulge poked out of his jeans, boxers tenting towards you.

"Cut the act."

With a nod, it was over—his mouth was pressed into yours, and his hands were pushing down his jeans, boxers following suit. His cock sprang free of its restraint, beat red and dripping with arousal. In the heat of the moment, you were flipped over, ass sticking straight into the air with your underwear pulled down mid thigh.

It was just enough freedom of the two of your sexes to make ends meet, the head of his cock nudging between your legs, pressing at your entrance. He had his fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back as he entered you in a swift motion, pressing to the hilt.

The two of you groaned in unison, hips flush to one another with Steve taking a break to breath, his head pushed towards the ceiling.

"Fuck, you're so—"

He cut himself off, a hard smack filling the air as his hand made contact with the plump skin of your ass. You pushed your hips back at the assault to your ass, groaning as he pressed even deeper.

"You're going to fucking kill me, princess."

He began to thrust into you, hips rutting into your own. It was quick, thrusts relentless and brutal as he fucked into you. Your hands tried gripping at the sheets around you, failing as the movements had you faltering, body rocking in unison with his own.

His name left your mouth in high pitched whines, eyes fluttering shut with the pleasure that overcame your senses.

"Ste-Steve, fuc-"

You could barely get a word out as he continued rutting into you, his hand gripping your hair tightly, the other running over the skin of your back, reaching down to rub at your lower back, rearing back to smack down into your cheek. The loud sounds of your sex and the smacking of his hand filled the room, becoming louder with each thrust.

You tried shushing him, worried that the sounds would be able to be heard from downstairs. The last thing you needed was your mom coming up the stairs, opening the door to find her sweet daughter in this compromising position.

He leaned over you, pressing your hips into the mattress as he continued fucking into you, grinding his hips in small motions. The atmosphere of the room changed, love filling the air as his hand left your hair, reaching around and down under to grip at your neck. Your neck craned back as he pulled you into him, back to chest.

Steve's breath was hot in your ear, small grunts leaving him.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked, tone of his voice gruff with arousal.

You attempted to nod, eyes squeezing shut and sweat prickling at your hairline from the heat of the moment. He reached down underneath you to rub at your clit, the bundle of nerves growing more sensitive as the two of you were brought closer to completion.

"Making me work for it—you're such a tease, princess."

The nickname had you whimpering, memories of your prior relationship flooding back. That first night spent together filling your mind, overcoming the small amount of senses that you had left.

A high pitched uhh left you, breath caught in your throat as his grip tightened, hips grinding down into you even further. He couldn't get any deeper, reaching that spot inside of you that was only reserved for him.

"'S not enough, Harrington."

You were insistent on teasing him, eyebrows knitted together, eyes squeezed shut. He quickened his pace, pulling out almost completely just to thrust back into you.

His fingers at your clit sped up, he sensed how close you were solely on how your body tensed up.

"Come on, princess. I know y—"

His hand covered your mouth as you came, drowning out the loud whine that escaped you. He knew your body so well, knew exactly when to stop torturing your clit, when to slow his thrusts so you wouldn't become overwhelmed. Steve's own pleasurable end reached him, a low groan suppressed by pressing his face between your shoulder blades as he came deep inside you.

"Ah, fuck, princess, I lov-"

He cut himself off, another moan escaping him as he bottomed out before pulling out, collapsing on the bed next to you. You took a few moments in silence, catching your breath before turning to face him, blinking slow as you took him in.

Fingers reaching to you, he pulled you closer to him, pulling up the blanket that was pushed to your feet in the same motion. It was so domestic, this moment, your favorite side of Steve making an appearance that was slowly becoming the main event of your relationship.

He lay beside you, leaning on one elbow and hip, his fingers running over the expanse of your skin. You were starstruck in his beauty, the way his hair fell over his eyes, the slight glimmer of sweat sticking to his skin, moles dotting his body even in places the sun couldn't reach. And he was all yours, even if he was being stubborn, being Steve about it.

"You know I loved you the entire time?" He suddenly said, low in tone as he stared you down. Eyes leaving his body, you looked into his deep brown, shock evident on your face.

"I-you what?"

It was the first time these words left his mouth. You knew how you felt, but it was shocking to hear it from him.

"Since the day I saw you, I loved you. Love you," he confirmed, finger running up his body to run against your breastbone. He hovered over your heart, mimicking the shape of one over the skin.

"So... you were being an asshole just for fun?" You teased, turning on your side to lean into his space. Being in his proximity brought you a comfort that should have scared you, but definitely didn't.

He smirked at you, wiggling his eyebrows as he recalled the memories of your early relationship.

"How else was I supposed to make you fall for me?"

Your mouth dropped open in faux shock, your hand reaching up to slap at his chest. A guffaw left him as he grimaced at the red mark forming.

Rubbing at the spot, he whined your name. "Well it worked, didn't it?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, pretending to turn up your face at him. Turning on your side away from him, you closed your eyes, ushering sleep.

"You're such an asshole, Harrington."

You felt his arm snake around you, pulling you into his chest, both of your naked bodies pressed against each other. Instantly, you melted in his arms, your own hand coming up to grip at him.

"I love you too, princess."

Ah jeez, here it is. I love this pairing so much, I never want to part ways with them. part three.

Masterlist. <3

[captain-joongz]

Cream soda

Pairing: non-idol!Baekhyun x f!reader

Genre: annoyances to lovers, friends to lovers, smut, fluff

Word count: 6.6k

Summary: Baekhyun eats your pussy in the backseat of his car. That's pretty much it.

Warnings: reader is a little bratty at first, subby reader, dom-ish Baekhyun, dirty talk (i am so weak for this man, i didn't even have control over what came outta his mouth), some allusions to slight humiliation, overuse of petnames, fingering, oral (both f and m receiving), deepthroating, face fucking, cum eating

A/N: okay, this was a little unplanned. i was just watching exo cream soda moments and then suddenly thoughts of this man wouldn't leave me until i put this into words, so enjoy this impromptu piece as a little gift inbetween the scheduled content

„Ugh, I should have hitched a ride with Kai and Sehun,” I muttered under my breath as I side-eyed Baekhyun behind the wheel loudly belting out effortless high notes along to some pop song playing on the radio. The man in question giggled with his high voice and continued singing even louder, throwing amused looks my way with a mischievous smirk.

“Come on, princess, I know you love spending time with me,” he teased, lips shaping into a sly grin and eyes flitting between me and the road. I scoffed and folded my arms over my chest and looked out of the window sulkily.

“Yeah, when you’re quiet,” I murmured, which made Baekhyun laugh at me again and continue amusing himself with singing. I wouldn’t admit it to him out loud, lest I inflate his already humongous ego even more, but I did find myself awed with his voice every time he just casually started singing as if he was paid to do it. Outwardly I scowled, but I did like to listen to him when he did, which was always, as it seemed the man was incapable of shutting up.

Me and Baekhyun were kind of distaste at first sight. I’d gotten to know Kai in a dance class I took up in my free time and he occasionally came in to teach, and we made friends right away, the young dancer’s shy and genuine personality making it impossible to not love him. Before I knew it, I spent most of my Wednesday’s classes giggling away in a corner with him, trading stupid jokes and laughing at tom-foolery we came up with. I was kind of hopeless at dancing, but Kai made it so much fun I just loved coming back every week even though I knew I would definitely never learn to dance as he did. He was the one who taught me having fun and loving that I’m moving is more important than trying to be perfect, and I approached those classes with a free spirit and desire for a good time.

In time I started hanging out with Jongin even outside of those Wednesday’s evenings and gradually was introduced to most of his friend group, most of the time hanging out with him and Sehun, occasionally Chanyeol tagging along.

When I finally met all eight of them, it was at Jongin’s birthday party. I was sat next to Junmyeon, holding polite conversation with him about our respective careers, when Baekhyun arrived. Really, I could hear him long before the door even opened, but when it did, it was pure chaos. He waltzed in, dressed to the nines, screaming something and immediately running over to the youngsters and hugging them. For the whole evening, no matter where I was sitting or who I was talking to, there seemed to be a constant Baekhyun hum in the background. I could just always hear him and even though I barely talked to him, I knew everything he said to every single person in the room, because he was just incapable of speaking at a lower volume. And even worse, his energy and aura just drew my eyes and I found myself slipping and watching him interact with others, all wide smiles, silly antics and loud laughs. By the time I was walking home through the night city, the sound of his teasing voice and carefree giggles were ingrained into my brain, ringing like an echo even though I was long gone from his company.

So, the next time I was invited to another event with all of Jongin’s hyungs, I went in already a little annoyed with the man, which was made even worse by the fact that I got stuck sitting next to him. He would tease me, joke about everything I said and randomly butt into conversations I had with others. After hours of sitting next to him, I was at my Baekhyun limit.

Now, with time as we hung out more as a group, I’d gotten more used to him and even found myself laughing at his shenanigans, but my pride didn’t allow me to show it, especially since he started teasing me about being so uptight and never joking around with them. I would just find myself immediately ticked off anytime I could see his eyes fall onto me and that infuriating self-pleased smirk spread on his lips, brain already coming up with ways to embarrass me (I wasn’t actually embarrassed, and I had a feeling Baekhyun knew that otherwise he’d stop, but I wouldn’t say that out loud. I guess there’s just a lot of things I wouldn’t admit to him.). I enjoyed our little “rivalry” and learnt to balance Baekhyun’s wild energy with cold stares and deadpan delivery of sarcastic remarks. All in all, we actually worked quite well together.

That being said, I still did find him annoying. Especially when he rolled into events dressed in a way that accentuated every little attractive detail about him (and there were many) and threw his trademark smirks with hints and teases of tongue at anyone he pleased. I’d seen him in so many white or black tees that either perfectly showed off his biceps or teased his chiselled chest, with pretty necklaces and chains that drew attention to his neck and sharp jawline. More often than not I found myself going absolutely crazy with just one look at him, only to immediately want to smack him the moment he opened his mouth. Being around him was always just a whirlwind of confused lust and irritation.

Tonight was no exception.

Around new years there started to be talks of taking one extended weekend in the spring, renting out a nice loft somewhere in the woods and going there to drink and have fun. When the time came, we only had to decide who would ride with who. I originally was meant to go with Kai and Sehun, but they both wanted to take their girlfriends and in the end I couldn’t squish into the car with them, even though we tried. I attempted to ask the other boys, but mostly their cars were completely full with either people or supplies and couldn’t take on more baggage and an extra person. At this point Baekhyun stepped in and offered, because he had a car (I did not, I rode a bike most days and didn’t get a license for cars) and even though he originally planned to go with Chanyeol, it would be easier for him to go in his own and take me too. I reluctantly agreed. It was one thing to be spending time with him when there were other people present, but being shut in the car with him for hours, I had no idea how much I would be able to take.

I knew I was in for a wild ride (pun not intended) when he showed up dressed in washed out jeans with white streaks and splashes, white tee and a black lather jacket with snakeskin motive, his usual chains and necklaces contrasting with his smooth skin, teasing his neck and collarbone, and his white and black hair styled perfectly around his sharp beautiful face. He was leaning against his sleek black car with a smug grin and my knees were weak the moment I spotted him. So here I was, hours later, listening to him sing his heart out while looking like a fucking model and annoying the shit out of me.

It was already dark outside and I was getting antsy. We should have been getting closer but somehow our destination was still god knows how many kilometres away. I was hoping we could get there in time for dinner and a good night’s sleep, as tomorrow we a had lot planned, but several hours and two turn-backs later I started giving up hope.

“Are we even getting closer or are you just going to keep me in this car listening to your singing for the entire night?” I grumbled sharply and Baekhyun turned to me with a self-assured grin.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon,” he answered with a wink, “you’re pretty grumpy when you get hungry, I’d prefer to feed you before I get my head bitten off.” Just then his phone beeped and the maps app started flashing a warning that he was no longer getting any signal and couldn’t be tracked. I groaned loudly while Baekhyun just cursed at it and pulled over at the first available spot. We were currently somewhere in the mountains, on the tiny little winding roads with little space. According to the surroundings, we should be close to the cabin, but for the love of god we just couldn’t find our way there, and the reason was the stupid fucking phone Baekhyun was currently furiously tapping while cursing under his breath. I sighed again and watched him lose a battle to the piece of technology.

“I swear I’m usually a really responsible chauffeur, it’s just because my phone is broken,” the white haired man said with a little nervous laugh, “It seems to be having trouble getting signal and therefore the GPS doesn’t work.” I just looked at him wordlessly, tired and annoyed, and raised my eyebrow.

“Okay, Miss Mad-at-the-world, pull out your phone then, let’s use your GPS,” Baekhyun joked, but I could hear an undertone of annoyance in his voice, which made me instantly angry. I did pull my phone out and unlocked it and then tapped with my finger to the right top corner. It read 10 % battery. This time it was Baekhyun who groaned loudly and then hit his head lightly on the top of the steering wheel.

“Well, then this might be the end of our journey,” he admitted sheepishly, “at least until my phone starts cooperating again.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I growled, the anger finally getting the better of me. Baekhyun looked at me sharply, his squinted eyes showing displeasure at my tone.

“I’m not happy about it either, you think I wanna be stuck in a car?” he spit back, just as fired up, “I’m hungry and I wanna sit down on a couch and watch a movie.” I threw a glare at him and then turned around to stubbornly look out the window, continuing my grumbling.

“God, I knew that driving with you was going to be trouble, I should have just pushed my way into Sehun’s car,” I mumbled petulantly, admittedly acting just a tiny bit like a little kid, “This is all because of you and your stupid broken phone.”

At this, Baekhyun groaned, his head thrown back hitting the seat as his hands flexed into the steering wheel. I watched it unfold in the reflection of the window and suddenly found a spark of a different heat running through my veins. I shuddered and squeezed my thighs together, surprised by the force of the unexpected arousal. Baekhyun was none the wiser, as he launched into an angry spiel.

“God, why do you always get so angry with me?!” he asked incredulously, “Every time I think we’re finally getting better, you go and get annoyed with me for no fucking reason! Even Jongin came to me and asked if I did something to you and you just didn’t want to tell him! I had to very embarrassingly explain to him that I didn’t know either why you just seem to hate me and only me!” Shame flooded me at my behaviour and I realised that of course everyone else seemed to pick up at my weird attitude when it came to this man. I truly found myself regretful at how genuinely upset Baekhyun seemed to be about not knowing what he did to irk me, especially since it was mostly my problem with how he made me feel than him actually doing anything irksome, but at that moment my brain was so overridden by lust that I couldn’t even tell him anything, because it felt as if I was melting and I couldn’t muster up a single thought except for how much I wanted to fucking jump him, months of repressed longing coming to the surface after I’d had to spend hours watching him be effortlessly attractive while driving.

“So tell me, what did I ever do to you?” Baekhyun exclaimed and turned to look at me, only to promptly freeze. I was already looking at him, having abandoned the window the moment he started talking, and suddenly anxiousness filled me at his expression. I was breathing quite hard and hoped it wasn’t as loud as I feared, the blush spilling over my face down my neck.

Baekhyun must have seen something in my unguarded expression, because suddenly he was relaxing into his seat, his previous anger and frustration melting into a smug smirk. I nervously fiddled with the edge of my skirt, embarrassment flooding me.

“I see,” he purred, his eyes flitted over my figure and filled with desire, “I understand now.” Then he abruptly leaned over to my side, one of his hands falling onto my thigh and gently squeezing, the other leaning onto the top of my seat, fingers tangling softly into my hair. Before I could stop myself, I let out a quiet little whimper, thighs squeezing on instinct, trapping his hand halfway between my legs. It felt as if our faces were just millimetres apart, breath mingling and lips almost brushing each other. I was entranced by his eyes, darkened by lust, expression suddenly sharpened by the arousal that was palpable in the air.

Then he chuckled, a shit-eating grin slipping onto his face, and pulled away. I took a deep breath, suddenly realising I stopped when he descended into my personal space. Baekhyun gave me a cheeky wink and started unbuckling his seat belt. Before I even processed what was happening, he was stepping out of the car into the dark.

When I wasn’t moving, he bent down a little and looked at me through the open door, the grin still held fast on his face.

“What are you waiting for, princess? Get into the back seat.” His voice kept the teasing lilt, but there was a rough undertone to it and it did something to me, heat spreading rapidly through every pore of my being. He stepped back and the door slammed shut. Before I could think about it, I unbuckled as well and launched myself back through the little gap between the seats. When Baekhyun opened the door, I was already sitting there, waiting for him with wide eyes and mouth agape, hair and clothes messed up from the struggle and breathing heavily. He froze for a second and then started laughing as he crawled in onto the furnishing.

“How eager,” Baekhyun purred, his beautiful face twisting with a little twinge of aroused savageness, clearly getting off on my obedience and lust. I felt my pussy throb at his words and the tone of his voice, fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs in anticipation.

“Lay down on your back, princess,” Baekhyun instructed me and started taking off his leather jacket, his gaze following my every movement as I started shuffling to make enough space. I ended up having to spread my thighs to make enough space for the kneeling man, but still had to awkwardly lean my head in a sharp angle on the door behind me. This had my skirt falling back and basically revealing my black underwear to his hungry eyes.

I whimpered again, hands flexing in my lap, inadvertently bunching up the fabric of the skirt even more. At the sound Baekhyun’s gaze snapped to my face, a predatory smirk on his lips painting him in a completely different light than I’d been used to. For some reason I was expecting him to keep his light-hearted teasing persona even in bed, so I was wholly unprepared for this sudden dark lustful aura that seemed to consume him from the inside out.

Knowing he had my full attention, his hands suddenly grasped my ankles, startling a gasp out of me at the unexpected contact, and then his fingers lightly, teasingly made their way up to my knees. He tapped there a few times, watching their journey fascinated, before they continued on down the inside of my thighs. My legs twitched a little, a gush of wetness hitting my now completely soaked panties, while I waited with bated breath for his next move.

“You should have told me sooner, baby, I would have fucked the attitude out of you months ago,” Baekhyun’s voice rough with arousal suddenly rung out through the silent car and hit me to my core, cunt tightening around nothing at the lewdness of his words.

Before I could even reply, his hand pressed onto my wet clothed heat, fingers teasing the slit with slight pressure, and I moaned loudly, back arching off of the seats. My body was reacting to his presence and touch so viscerally it would almost scare me if I had the mental capacity to think about anything else than his fingers near my pussy.

I watched as his tongue darted out to lick his lips, his eyes trained on his hand playing with my panties, a whimper falling out of me when I imagined it between my legs. Baekhyun didn’t seem to be paying me much attention, rather focused on feeling out my pussy through my underwear. His other hand discreetly moved down his own body and squeezed his crotch, a shudder wracking through his body, eyes falling close with a pleased little sigh. I replied to the sight with a moan of my own, my mouth falling open as the last of my thoughts trickled out of my mind and were completely replaced by the vision that was Baekhyun pleasuring himself in front of me.

He peeked at me, watching me from under half-lidded eyes, the smirk on his face turning a little sharper. I was a little embarrassed by how easy it was for him to completely deconstruct me to a whimpering mess, and he barely even did anything, but clearly it was doing wonders for Baekhyun’s ego as he was exuding smugness while looking down on me. It made him look so powerful, like me and my pleasure were beneath him and I should be glad that he was even touching me in the first place, and that thought made me moan again, eyes rolling back into my head as I arched and pressed my pussy more onto his fingers.

He chuckled and obliged, pushing my panties to the side and running his fingers through my wet slit, thumb circling my clit while two of his fingers played with my entrance. I moaned and gasped, my whole body trembling with delicious tension as the waves of pleasure finally hit me full force.

“Please,” I gasped out, pussy pulsing with Baekhyun’s incessant teasing, “God, Baekhyun, please do something.” His fingers suddenly plunged in, but I was so wet and ready, they went in with no problem at all. A high pitched moan left my mouth and I gripped the edge of the seat. Everything seemed to spin along with the circles Baekhyun’s thumb was doing on my clit and I felt my sanity slowly slipping away, as the tingling feeling filled my whole body.

His fingers were just perfect, thick and a little bony, pretty and elegant, filling me in a way I was craving for months, and as he started unhurriedly pumping them in and out, I gasped and sighed and moaned with the mounting pleasure. For a moment I let myself be carried by the wave, eyes closed mouth opened just riding the burning feeling coiling in my belly, but then he stopped and pulled his hand away. Before I could stop myself I whined, long and drawn pitiful sound that made Baekhyun teasingly sneer at me with delight.

“Don’t cry, princess,” he whispered, voice rough and deeper than usual, “I’m just trying to figure out what you need.” With that he shifted and my attention was brought back to the bulge in his own pants, but he snapped his fingers, drawing my eyes back to his face. I felt myself blush at the open hunger and amusement in his gaze, knowing what I’d been looking at.

“Tell me, pretty girl,” Baekhyun continued, leaning a bit forward so he could look down on me with more of an impact. I whimpered and my thighs spasmed. His hand grabbed onto one and stabilised it with a soft caress. “Do you want my fingers? Hmm?” he asked with a faux curiosity on his handsome sharp face, “Or maybe something else?” His tongue poked out of his mouth again and unwittingly I gasped and nodded slightly before I could even think about it.

Baekhyun’s face crumpled into a smug smirk again, all sympathy draining out and getting replaced by pure hunger and lust. A bolt of desire pulsed through my entire body so strong I was surprised I didn’t physically jerk. Then he bent slightly over, kissing the skin of my knee. His eyes, ever so vigilant, watched hungrily for my reaction, and when I gasped slightly and tensed in his hold, it seemed to satisfy him enough. Slowly his lips made their way down the inside of my thigh, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses in their wake, until he reached my quivering centre, still covered by underwear.

He latched onto my clothed pussy, tongue pressing into the slit, putting pressure on my clit and licking around the edges of my panties. I tensed again, whole body shaking and anticipation and excitement flooding through my veins. But Baekhyun was suddenly in his teasing mood again and after a few moments of playing around with my clit with the tip of his tongue, he pulled away again. I didn’t even have time to whine though, as he immediately grabbed my underwear and swiftly pulled it off, leaving my pussy bared to him.

Instead of diving in, he chose to take the same path down the other thigh, but this time he was a lot less gentle, rushing down the expanse of the skin, leaving little bites and groaning lightly into the flesh, until he once again found himself buried in my pussy. The shock of his tongue licking a long stripe from my entrance up to my clit made me heave out a loud breath on a groan, body convulsing.

Now he wasted no time, suddenly seemingly as desperate to have me cumming as I was, his tongue wreaked havoc on me, sliding through my folds until it was lightly circling my clit before his lips latched onto it and sucked harshly. I was mindlessly laying there, twitching and shuddering, mouth open on a constant stream of quiet moans as he ate me out wildly.

He alternated between playing with my clit with his tongue and sucking on it with such force it left me breathless, before he slid lower and circled my entrance, moaning loudly into my cunt as his hands gripped my thighs tighter, leaving red indents of his nails. His head moved with the motion, bobbing excitedly as he licked me to my clit again before plunging his tongue in my hole without any warning.

It was such an onslaught of sensations I found myself barely hanging on, the fire in my lower belly consuming everything in its path and filling my veins with molten gold. I stopped caring about what kind of noises leave my mouth and gave myself over to the feeling of his tongue fucking into me in rough motions, nose bumping into my clit making me see stars. Blindly I reached over and grabbed his hair, tugging on it harshly and that had Baekhyun loudly groaning into my pussy, hands massaging my thighs as if he was holding on for dear life.

It was such a hot experience I could feel myself hurling closer to the edge, but I just needed an extra push. I used the grip on the hair as leverage and pulled Baekhyun away from my cunt. He looked at me, his fucked out expression bleeding into slight annoyance at getting interrupted. He looked a mess, the lower half of his face wet with my juices, lips shiny and red, tongue peeking out like he was a dog in heat. A blush was spread over his face, but spilled lower over his collarbones which were visible in the stretched out collar.

I pulled his head and pushed his mouth to my clit again. Without thinking, he immediately latched on and started sucking on it in between flicking it with his tongue, circling it and playing with it before giving it some rougher treatment. I moaned loudly, barely holding onto any thought, hand still holding him in place. When he wanted to move lower, his hair got pulled again and a debauched groan left his lips before he smirked at me.

“Suddenly turned all demanding, huh?” he said and teasingly licked through my folds as far as he could reach, “What is it baby, am I not doing enough?” I attempted to look at him, but I was already half gone, just desperately needing to come as soon as possible.

“Your fingers too, please,” I gasped out and with a single grin the man obliged immediately. Before I could process his lips on my cunt again, two fingers were plunged as deep as they could go into my heat. I nearly screamed out, but managed to turn it into a drawn out moan, legs falling open as far as I could push them. Baekhyun groaned in answer and then started harshly fucking me with them, curling them slightly to hit the sweet spot. Which he did, again and again and again. With a couple of flicks he had me losing my mind in the damn backseat of his car, on the cusp of cumming just from seeing his eyes drink up my own lust.

The car was suddenly filled with the sound of his muffled moaning, wet squelching of his fingers pumping furiously into my cunt and my own moans and sighs. I arched again, pushing my pussy into his face, into his fingers, so close to falling over that edge. I could barely think, barely hear, barely see, walls of my cunt spasming around him and milking his fingers of all their worth.

Baekhyun moaned again, hips moving on their own against one of my legs. I could feel his hard cock straining through the jeans and I loved knowing this was driving him just as wild, but I couldn’t hold that thought for long because suddenly he paired a couple of harsh pumps of his fingers with a hard flick and a long drawn-out sucking on my clit and I was launched into my climax, crashing into it so hard my hands flexed and had him groaning in pain and pleasure, hips stuttering against me.

The added vibration of his pleasured sounds carried me through it hard and I cried out, hips jerking against his face, the orgasm washing through my body in one huge tidal wave, white spots dancing behind my lids as I pressed them shut. The pleasure wrecked through me with a few quieter moans, leaving my thighs trembling. Then my whole body slumped down, the muscles relaxing and turning me into a rag doll.

I could hear Baekhyun breathing loudly, licking lightly at my spent pussy until I used my hand to pull him away again. He smirked at me, pulling my hand away from his white and black hair and sat back on his heels. His hands worked fast on his belt and zipper and I watched him utterly fascinated as he pulled his cock out, his hand frantically moving up and down the length as he chased his own pleasure.

I loved the sight, his cock was just as pretty as Baekhyun himself was, thick and curved with a tip flushed red, wet from pre-cum. I felt the fire burn low in my belly again, excitement making itself known through the tingling feeling spreading through my cunt. I moved faster than I was able to comprehend, suddenly kneeling in front of him with Baekhyun pushed against the door. I looked at him once with a mischievous expression and that was all the warning he got before I pulled his hand away and put his cock halfway down my throat.

He groaned loudly, hands immediately flying to my hair, tugging on it just as harshly as payback, and I moaned just as loudly in return, the sensation making him choke on a whimper. I was too eager, pushing myself to take him further into my mouth and in the process choking on his length, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel him in my throat. Baekhyun released a few raggedy moans, hands flexing in my hair and hips stuttering slightly, before he seemed to regain back some composure and decided to take control again.

His hand grabbed onto my hair a little harsher, getting a more solid grip before he stopped me from aimlessly choking on him. I looked up, completely ruined by lust and needing him to cum just as hard as I did. He smirked at me, pleased at my obedience.

“Gonna fuck your mouth, yeah princess?” he whispered roughly, hands once again getting a good grip, but his eyes waited for my confirmation. I blinked at him and tried to nod, which was pretty hard given my position but he seemed to understand.

His hips jumped a little forward as he was preparing himself to move and I cherished the feeling of his cock sliding deeper into my mouth, touching the edge of my throat. I breathed loudly through my nose, getting used to the feeling before Baekhyun started thrusting.

When he did, he started slow, with measured shallow thrusts that had barely half of his cock sliding into my mouth, but once I moaned and pushed against his hands holding me still, he got the memo and started earnestly fucking into mouth, hips languidly moving in elegant swerves and each thrust punching a high moan out of him. He tried to keep his eyes on me, but soon was too overwhelmed by the sensation and threw his head back as his hips kept relentlessly jerking forward, until I was choking on him on every thrust.

I concentrated on my breathing, but the throbbing trembling between my legs was making me delirious, moaning around the intrusion in my mouth and welcoming it back with every plunge, driving Baekhyun absolutely insane.

The car moved with the motion of his hips, swinging wildly from left to right, and if anybody passed by us, they would definitely know what was currently taking place inside. I could hear a quiet creaking of metal, lost behind the cacophony of Baekhyun’s long high pitched moans. His thrusts had gotten slower but harder, pushing into me until my face was smushed into his lower abdomen, the cock pulsing in my throat. I tried to swallow around it and a pitiful groan was punched out of Baekhyun’s mouth. I could feel he wouldn’t last much longer, his fingers digging into my hair tightly, hips losing rhythm and chasing after an orgasm, moans getting higher and higher.

I grabbed onto his thighs and my nails digging into the fabric of the jeans were no doubt felt through to his skin. His hands started guiding my head along his thrusts, pushing me into him on ever slide in. Drool dribbled out of my mouth, all over my chin and onto him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

With a few deep thrusts I could hear his stuttering breaths, the tightening of his balls before he stilled, cock pushed as deep as it could go pumping hot salty liquid down my throat. Baekhyun let out one last long moan, cumming in few hot squirts as his hips trembled and jerked lightly. I struggled to swallow around his length, stimulating the already sensitive head, punching out some whimpers out of him as his cum slipped out my lips and dribbled down my chin. My own cunt spasmed and throbbed with arousal, and I could feel the wetness sliding down my thighs, making me groan slightly.

He finally pulled out and his head lolled back to look at me. I barely had the presence of mind to look at him, eyes teary and face a mess of drool and cum. Something passed over his eyes and then he was suddenly pushing me down onto the seat, descending over me and kissing me harshly. I gasped and he immediately stuck his tongue into my mouth, no doubt tasting his release, but that didn’t seem to bother him, especially since he kissed me like a starved man.

I was so ready to cum again, too turned on from having him fuck my mouth to even pretend I didn’t need him again and he seemed to understand. With one hand he pulled up my shirt, lips migrating down my neck to mouth at my tits, while the other pressed between our bodies and without much preamble he plunged two fingers inside my hole again.

I whimpered, back arching and pushing my tits into his mouth, while my hips gyrated against his fingers attempting to ride them to completion. The madness at that point truly hit the boiling point as I didn’t need much at all and after a few rough well aimed thrusts combined with slight scraping of his teeth over my nipple I was cumming once again, this time my whole body spasmed and the pleasure was enough to tear a desperate scream out of my throat as I clamped down on his fingers, the ecstasy tearing through me with even more force than the first time. Baekhyun groaned a few times too, attempting to let me ride out the climax with some gentler strokes, before we both slumped down, the pleasant boneless feeling after a good orgasm getting us both.

Sound of harsh breathing was the only sound in the car as we both tried to get it back under control, our bodies cooling down. I was suddenly aware just how much cold wet release was all over my cunt and thighs, as well as a slight tick in my jaw was making itself known. Baekhyun pushed himself back on his knees and tucked himself back into his pants, tee haphazardly hanging off of him.

He gave me a winning smile with a touch of that smugness from before and then launched into motion. I rolled my eyes at him fondly, but let him do the aftercare, as I was still too drained to even move. Just as he was leaning over to the front seat trying to grab the packet of handkerchiefs to wipe me down, his phone suddenly started blaring through the silence of the car, scaring the both of us.

Baekhyun grabbed it and looked at it, then looked at me and said cheekily: “It seems that the signal is working again.” I just stuck my tongue out at him, to which he in turn started gesturing lewdly with his until I kicked him with a barely held back laugh.

The phone was still blaring, so he clicked the accept button and suddenly Jongin’s worried rambling was filling the silence of the car.

“Jesus christ, hyung!” he exclaimed, “We were so fucking scared! You were supposed to be here hours ago and none of us could reach either of you and we had no idea where you were!”

“Sorry, bear,” Baekhyun replied, though he didn’t sound nor looked very sorry, grinning at me while leisurely wiping my centre. I flushed with embarrassment, suddenly feeling shy now that Jongin was on the call. “My phone’s broken and Y/N’s died a while ago. We seem to be quite lost.”

“Are you anywhere close? I might be able to come and get you,” came Kai’s sweet reply, his voice full of relief now that we established we were alive and well. “I’m not sure, I think so,” Baekhyun told him and looked out the window. It was pointless, it was already dark outside and barely anything could be seen beyond the few dingy streetlights.

“My GPS kept fucking up, so we stopped by the side of the road for a little bit to see if it jumps back on, but I think we’re in the vicinity,” the man carried on explaining and I started searching for my discarded panties. When I bent over to fish them from underneath the driver’s seat, a hand made its way to my ass and caressed it gently. I flushed and ducked further to avoid looking at the smug bastard.

There was silence on the line, stretching until I started nervously twitching and turned back to sit next to Baekhyun. He watched me with a teasing glint to his eye and then winked.

“Uh-huh,” drawled out Jongin finally as an answer. I could hear in his voice he was suspicious and really, who could blame him. We disappeared, didn’t pick up phone calls and then Baekhyun tells him totally laid-back “oh yeah, phone’s broken and we’re somewhere on the side of the road” as if he was talking about what he was doing yesterday. I blushed again and slapped his shoulder lightly, earning a quiet amused chuckle.

“Okay hyung, stay there and send me your location while your phone works,” Jongin said, deadpan and clearly done with his shit, “and for fuck’s sake, be fully clothed when I get there.”

Baekhyun started loudly cackling while I slapped his shoulder some more in embarrassment. He snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me flush to his chest, giggling at me playfully.

“Got it! Thank you, Jonginnie~”

The man sighed and grumbled something about Baekhyun being a menace and then hung up. I immediately groaned and pushed my face into the white-haired man’s shoulder.

“They’ll never shut up about this,” I mumbled and melted into the feeling of Baekhyun’s fingers gently carding through my hair. He chuckled lightly, reverting back to his happy persona.

“Just be really shameless, it will be less fun for them to tease you,” he laughed, “Walk in like ‘yeah I sucked his dick, what of it?’” He made some crude gestures with his free hand and then laughed when I slapped it again.

“Let’s get back to the front seats before Kai gets here, or he’ll be traumatised,” I told him and pulled myself back through the gap. When I turned back, Baekhyun was giving me a hungry stare again and I shuddered, my body valiantly trying to get aroused again.

“You forgot something,” he whispered and suddenly my black panties were hanging in the space between our faces, tangled around his beautiful fingers. I flushed, realising I must have flashed him when I clambered back to the passenger seat, but I could already feel the beginnings of a fresh wet heat between my legs.

I gave Baekhyun a look, which he seemed to understand judging by the annoyingly hot self-assured smirk making its way back onto his face.

“How long do you think we have before Kai gets here?”

I guess we were going to find out.

hope you enjoyed yourself <3

[luveline]

jadey would you please mind giving us more of kbd!steve this season? xxxx

kbd dad!steve and mom!reader fight over christmas pyjamas, 1.4k

“I don't know what you want me to say.” 

Steve frowns deeply at you. Another haircut, another day more handsome than before, he pulls off everything, but not… 

“Say you like them,” he demands, hooking his thumbs in his pyjama top and pulling it outwards to properly show you the front. 

Steve is wearing Christmas pyjamas. The Grinch from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas in all his scrooge glory grins at you evilly against a red background. The pants are white, patterned by red and green drawings of the Grinch holding a Christmas present. He looks much happier from your husband's thighs than the long sleeved shirt. 

“Babe, they have cuffs. We're gonna be warm all day,” he says. 

“They don't match,” you say, pointing to the Grinch on his leg, who holds a pink gift wrapped in yellow ribbon. “Maybe it's the pink and red throwing me off.” 

His frown turns to a pout, the almond shape of his warm brown eyes at a downturn as he says, “You really don't like them.” 

You crack like a weak walled chestnut over a flame. “I'm kidding! I'm just messing with you, baby, I love them. They're so Christmas-sy. Did you get some for me?” 

His relief is palpable. “I got some for everyone.” 

Steve got matching pyjamas for himself, you, the kids, and Robin. He shows you them from a bag on the kitchen table, where you ooh and aah reluctantly. You love him, love everything he does, but you're finally on your holidays vacation and you'd wanted to spend as much of it sitting down as possible. Not that sitting down is possible at home, but you digress. 

Steve senses your reluctance with a grumble pressed into the back of your neck, his arms grabbing you from behind. “Alright, I get it! You hate me and your kids and you hate Christmas most of all, whatever. I should've married Tammy Thompson.” 

You laugh and lean forward over his arms. “Tammy Thompson wouldn't have wanted a thing to do with you, H, on account of you being a cruel, know-it-all narcissist who forces his exhausted wife off of the couch at every opportunity he–” 

“Alright, that's enough.” 

Steve squeezes you until you're pleading with him to let you go, a riot of giggles forced from your lungs as he digs his hands into your sides, his fingers practically drilled into your ribs. You call for mercy and he ignores it, muttering about narcissism in your ear. He laughs as you laugh, can't keep up the act. 

“Beg for me to stop,” he says. 

“Stop!” you say, trying to pull his arms off of your stomach. “Steve, stop it!” 

“Say you'll wear the pyjamas.” 

“Steve! I'll wear them! Would you–” 

“Get off of her!” Bethie shouts, barrelling into the room to push at her dad's legs. 

It's so unlike Beth to shout that you both immediately stop fighting. For a split second, you think she's worried that Steve was actually hurting you, but then she laughs as she punches him in the thigh and sticks herself between your breathless bodies, two small arms extended to keep you apart. 

When she's sure Steve is done, she wraps her arms around you, looking up into your face with a big smile. “Saved you, mom.” 

“You saved me,” you agree, bending down to hug her, “thank you, sweetheart, thank you.” You drop tens of kisses into her hair and face, so many that Steve makes a show of huffing.

“Beth, she deserved it,” he says. “She doesn't wanna wear our matching jammies. Don't you wanna do that?” 

She looks at him with those big sorry eyes only young children can master. “Yeah, dad, but…” 

“But what?” 

“But she's my mom.” 

You pull one of the kitchen chairs out and sit down, patting your lap for her to climb up and sit with you. “But I'm her mom,” you sing-song, ever so slightly smug. 

“And I'm, what? Cat food?” 

“Don't listen to him, baby, he's just jealous.” 

Steve turns away from you both, showfully miffed. Bethie giggles and turns into your chest. “He's mad,” she laughs. 

“So mad.” You drop your nose into the side of her cheek. 

“Are we still having a treat tonight?” she asks. 

“Of course we are. It's Christmas! Mom's home, daddy's catching up on his sleep, we're all having cake and ice cream and chocolates until we can't eat anymore,” you promise. 

“Wish you were home all the time.” 

“Me too, baby,” you say, rubbing her cheek with the tip of your nose slowly. “I wish you could come to work with me. That would be so fun. But we have to make the most of our time away, yeah? Let's have lots and lots of fun.” 

“I saved you,” she says, “so maybe I can have extra cake.” 

“Beth. You can have as much as you want tonight, I promise.” 

“I love Christmas,” she decides. 

Steve rushes back into the kitchen with a child under each arm. Dove laughs, her eyes practically sparkling, not a care in the world though she's upside down, and Avery clings to Steve's waist, shouting, “Dad, put me down!” through nervous giggles. 

“Tell mom what I told you,” he says. 

“Dad, I'm slipping!” 

“Avery, you're not slipping. I'm frankly insulted that you think I would drop you. Now tell your mother what we said.” 

“Daddy's not a nar-pasit!” Dove says joyfully. “He's a sweetheart.” 

“He's a huge narcissist,” you correct in a similar tone. 

“He's dropping me!” Avery cries. 

Steve shakes her until she screams. “I am not! For Christ's sake, I can curl you like two pound weight, you delinquent! Now.” He takes a deep, fake breath, pulling the two girls higher into his armpits. “Like we rehearsed.” 

“I did my turn,” Dove says, reaching out for you, her smile hard to miss even if she is upside down..

“Dad didn't even want to marry that lady,” Avery says, her eyes squeezed closed. Steve chuckles and kisses her head, amused by her silly worry. “He's only ever wanted to be in love with you. And to drop me.” 

Steve chokes he laughs so hard, leaning forward and depositing the eldest girl onto two steady feet. “Perfect as always, Ave. And you!” He twists into a shape, Dove's head getting closer and closer to the floor. She couldn't be happier, giggling like she's been tickled the whole while. “You did perfect too, honey.” 

“I didn't even bring up that lady,” you say. 

Steve and Dove return back to the right way round after some careful manoeuvring. “My bad. Babe. Y/N. I'm sorry, okay? I'm a loser and–” He nudges Dove aside gently to take your hands, your knees, ignoring Beth where she's in the way to kneel in front of you. “I just need you to want to wear these pyjamas as bad as I want you to. So pull it together.” 

You put your lips to the shell of Beth's ear. “Should we forgive him?” 

“Mmm…” Beth points at Avery. “He has to say sorry for almost dropping Avey.” 

“Right.” You nod sagely. 

Steve turns to Avery with wide eyes, “You're not actually upset, are you?” he asks, putting out his hand to her. 

“My brains are like cranberry sauce,” she says. 

He raises his eyebrows, delighted. “Yeah? The thick one from the can?” 

Dove climbs under his arm. He pulls her in for a cuddle unthinkingly, but just as quickly she's ducking away from him to walk up to Avery, reaching for her face. Avery leans down obligingly. 

Dove pokes her forehead. 

“I'm not really jelly!” Avery says, giggling. 

“Well, I'm sorry if I scared you almost dropping you,” Steve says, holding his hands together, brown eyes like melting sugar in his pleading. “Can you please forgive me, so mommy will forgive me, and we can put on our new jammies?” 

Avery isn't stubborn. “Yeh, okay. I'll forgive you.” 

He smiles, turning to you now for the final verdict. 

“I already said I'd wear them, Steve,” you say with a grin. 

“Oh. Good. Alright.” He climbs to his feet, split from cheek to cheek. “I'm gonna go get the baby. Aw, shit, and the camera. Practise your poses until I come back, angels!”

[yourmomsawh0r3]

the oscars

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

summary: pedro pascal and his wife take on the oscar’s as she is nominated for her new movie

a/n: this was my first time writing fan fiction bitchessss obviously it’s not the best

PART 2 is up now bbs <3

the night was young, you were in the living room of your shared home with Pedro getting glammed up by your team for the Oscars. As they finished up the last touches of your makeup and hair, you went into the bedroom to get into your dress, looking into the mirror "damn I look good." you said "fucking right you do" the voice of your husband Pedro said behind you "mami you look breathtaking." he says as he grabs you from behind staring at you lovingly in the mirror, he lightly kisses your temple just as, "CARS HERE!" your assistant yelled. "let's go bebe" you say grabbing his hand and walking to the car.

As you guys pulled up to the Oscars red carpet, you could hear the fans screaming along with the paparazzi. you two stepped out of the vehicle hand in hand, everyone was going crazy, as you made your way down the red carpet taking photos with your Pedro you heard one of the paparazzi guys say " Y/N are you excited to be nominated for your new movie ?" "I am beyond thrilled to be nominated for the movie "No Hard Feelings", my castmates and I worked so hard on this movie, and I'm so glad people really enjoyed it" Pedro gave your ass a squeeze while taking pictures, with that all you could do was laugh. you didn't think you were that nervous for the Oscars. Making your way inside, you head STRAIGHT to the bar "I need a drink before this shit starts, I don't think I can go up there without liquid courage" Downing your drink in one go, Pedro laughed.. he grabbed your hand and walked towards your reserved seats.

while sitting there fidgeting with your husbands wedding band on his finger you thought going through the list of awards is gonna take forever. That was until your name was called and your character Maddie from the movie was displayed across the big screen. "why does my head look so big? i mean seriously out of all clips from the movie”you leaned over giggling at Pedro all he could do was shake his head and laugh. "your overreacting, your head is a perfect shape baby, you will always be beautiful to me." " AND THE AWARD FOR BEST FEMALE ACTRESS GOES TO..." you legit felt like you were gonna throw up. "Y/N L/N for Maddie in no hard feelings!" you looked at Pedro with your jaw dropped, he was smiling cheek to cheek

“i’m so proud of you, go baby go accept your award!" as he gave you a steamy quick kiss

the song from your movie "Maneater (live) by Andrew Barth Feldman played at 1:24" played in the background. holding onto your long dress you walked up the stairs to the stage, thank the lord you didn't trip and eat the ground. is all you can think in your head. "congratulations y/n, do you have anything you would like to say" smiling you take your award and start speaking into the podium mic "fuck, IM IN SHOCK.. am i allowed to say that?” the people back stage shake their head no. “no? wow okay, well first I would like to thank my husband pedro pascal, and my kids alexis and antonio without them I wouldn't be where I am today, I would like to thank the cast and all of the crew it took to make this movie, I would also like to thank my manager, publicist, and my assistant, lastly i would like to thank my fans, you guys are my everything i love you all so much. WHEW now i'm ready to get drunk and shake ass at the afterparty" The whole crowd laughed and cheered as you made your way down the stairs with your award heading back to your seat. "i love you cariño" pedro says as he grabs your face and kisses you deeply.

[jackiequick]

Ben Carter ~ Rebel Just For Kicks | Marvel Studios OC

Full Name: Bennett Sawyer Carter

Nicknames: Ben, Benni, Benji, Sawyer, Scout, Ace

Alias: Oliver Halloway, Jackson Harper, Dean Nolan, James Shepherd, Bellamy Wheeler, Jonathan Hunter, Leon Lance etc

——

Date Of Birth: October 16th, 1984

Place Of Birth: New York City

Place Of Residency: Washington, DC

——

Family: AGENT 13, Sharon [CLASSIFIED] — Sister

—————

“I wanted to be teacher but my father didn’t allow it. So now I live in the shadow of my older sister, but I do this job to protect her.”

“Did you really just challenge me to burger eating contest?”

“Yippee ki yay, mother-oops, sorry, there’s children present..”

“Man, I need a break. Who wants pie?”

————————

Personality: 

He is delightful blend of charm and goofiness, often bringing humor to even the most serious situations. His clumsy nature leads to lighthearted moments, endearing him to those around him. 

Beneath his playful exterior lies a fiercely loyal protector; Ben would selflessly throw himself into harm's way to shield his loved ones, demonstrating an unwavering commitment to their safety. 

With a quick wit and a knack for sarcasm, he deftly navigates tense scenarios, using humor to defuse potential conflicts. Friendly and charismatic, he easily connects with others, making him a beloved figure among friends and allies alike.

-------

Background 📖

Growing up in a family where his sister, Sharon (AGENT 13), was clearly the high achiever, Bennett always felt the pressure to live up to his family’s expectations. 

His dream of becoming a teacher was dismissed by his father, who pushed him toward a path of espionage or government work like his sister. While Sharon excelled, Bennett found solace in humor and developing a carefree persona to cope with the pressure.

—

“I don’t want to be like Sharon or you or even aunt Peg, dad! I want to teach and travel, not go around getting myself into trouble.” Ben replied.

“Son, you will be a fine young agent just like me. Being a teacher is too small of a career and you won’t be paid much.” Michael, his father, add in a stern tone. “You’re a Carter, act like it.”

“But I am not fit for that kinda job…”

“You say that now, but you will be.”

“Dad...”

—

While Ben respected his father and admired Sharon’s achievements, he couldn’t help but feel torn. More than anyone in his family, Aunt Peggy Carter had always fascinated him. She was a legend in her own right, a brilliant strategist, co-founder of S.H.I.E.L.D., and a woman who had helped shape the modern intelligence world. Yet, despite her immense legacy, Ben wondered if Aunt Peggy might have understood his desire to take a different path.

Sometimes, when the pressure became too much, Ben found himself wondering, What would Aunt Peg say if she were here?

Deep down, he believed she would have told him to follow his own path, to be his own person. Unlike his father, Peggy might have recognized that having goals—big or small—was important. But Ben never had the chance to ask her. And that uncertainty gnawed at him.

Would Peggy have supported his choices? Or would she have dismissed his dreams like his father had?

This question haunted Ben, even as he tried to balance his own desires with his family’s expectations. He longed for a mentor who would understand him, someone who wouldn’t see his dreams as "too small."

Though he eventually followed the path set out for him, Ben’s inner struggle never fully disappeared. He carried the question of Peggy’s approval with him, both as a source of strength and as a reminder of what he had given up.

---

-------

—Relationship with Sharon Carter 🛠️

Growing up, Sharon and Bennett shared a close bond. As the older sibling, Sharon was protective of her little brother, often looking out for him when their father’s strict expectations weighed heavily on him. In their early years, they had a lot of fun together—playing games, pulling pranks, and exploring the streets of New York. Sharon was always the more confident and adventurous one, while Ben was more cautious, happy to follow her lead.

But as they got older, the gap between them began to widen. Sharon embraced the world of espionage with determination, diving headfirst into training and missions. She became the perfect soldier in their father’s eyes, the embodiment of the Carter legacy. 

Ben, on the other hand, grew unsure of himself. He admired Sharon’s strength and skill but resented the fact that her success only made him feel more inadequate. Often feeling torn between his personal dreams and the family legacy.

Despite their differences and the tension that arose from their father’s expectations, Ben and Sharon deeply cared for each other. Sharon was fiercely protective of Ben, even if she didn’t always understand his reluctance to embrace their family’s legacy. Ben, in turn, admired Sharon’s strength and independence, even if he resented the comparisons made between them.

As Ben began to settle into his own role in intelligence work—whether by choice or circumstance—Sharon continued to watch out for him. He didn’t want to live in Sharon’s shadow, but he also didn’t want her to get hurt. Part of his decision to follow the family path came from his desire to protect Sharon—to make sure she never faced the dangers of their work alone.

—

"I do this job for a lot of reasons," Ben once confided in a rare moment of vulnerability. "But mostly? I do it to protect you."

Sharon, uncharacteristically quiet, nodded. "I don’t need protecting, Ben."

"I know," he replied, looking down shaking his head and then looked straight at her. "But I’m still going to try."

——

—-

They weren’t as close as they had been in their childhood, but they had come to respect each other’s choices. 

Sharon continued to work in her career, while Ben had found his own way, even if it wasn’t the life he originally wanted.

————

———————

——

| CARTER — S.H.I.E.L.D. Associate | ⚖️ |

While Bennett initially resisted the idea of following in his family’s footsteps, particularly those of his father and sister, he eventually found a place within S.H.I.E.L.D., albeit on his own terms. He didn’t strive to be a leader or a figurehead, but he knew that protecting those he cared about—and finding his own way to make a difference—was important.

Reluctant Start, Natural Talent

After years of pushing back against his father’s expectations, Bennett’s path eventually led him to S.H.I.E.L.D. He realized that, whether he liked it or not, his family’s legacy wasn’t something he could easily escape. Yet, when he decided to join S.H.I.E.L.D., it wasn’t out of a desire to live up to the Carter name exactly—it was about finding his own purpose. He just wanted to make his mark in a way that felt authentic to him.

Though Ben had always been reluctant to pursue espionage, he discovered he had a natural talent for certain aspects of the job. He wasn’t the best strategist or mastermind like other agents, but he excelled in the physical and tactical elements of the work.

——

"Watch it, Carter. You're like a kid in a candy store," Maria Hill remarked dryly, watching as Ben eagerly examined the array of weaponry laid out in the SHIELD armory.

Ben scoffed, flashing a grin. "Hill, lighten up. It's a wall full of guns, knives, and other weaponry! Look at this," he said, picking up a sleek new handgun and examining it with gleaming eyes. "And ooh, is that a new set of bows and arrows? Bet Clint would love this!"

Hill shook her head, but she couldn’t hide the faint smirk on her face. Ben's enthusiasm, though sometimes overwhelming, was infectious.

——

~ Role within S.H.I.E.L.D. ⚙️

Active S.H.I.E.L.D. Associate: Bennett works as a simple, yet kind field agent, engaging in various missions and tasks for the organization.

Hand-to-Hand Combat: Skilled in close-quarters combat, always eager to improve and test his fighting abilities.

Weaponry Enthusiast: Excited by weapons, particularly guns, rifles, knives, and advanced tech. He enjoys trying out new gear.

Scouting Missions: Loves scouting and reconnaissance missions, especially because they let him travel and explore new places.

Undercover & Surveillance: Although reluctant at first, he secretly enjoys undercover work and surveillance, finding it both challenging and exciting.

——————

———

————————————

—Strengths & Weaknesses 🖥️

Strengths

1. Charisma and Charm

2. Loyalty and Protectiveness

3. Wit and Humor

4. Adaptability

5. Combat Skills

6. Empathy and Understanding

Weakness

1. Self-Doubt

2. Emotional Burden

3. Reluctance to Embrace Leadership

4. Tendency to Avoid Conflict

5. Clumsiness

6. Difficulty Accepting Help

——————————

———

———

Fun Facts & Quirks! 🧲

- Foodie at Heart -> This man loves burgers, pies, ice cream, donuts and etc. Depending on where he is, Ben will find some sort of food to eat.

“Did you seriously go and buy milkshake?” His teammate asked.

He shrugged and pointed, “What? You were takin’ too long. I got hungry.”

- Clumsy Charmer -> He is notoriously clumsy at times, often stumbling on his own feet or bumping into something by accident.

“Who put a damn step there? That wasn’t there before!” He shouted almost tripping over but caught himself quickly.

- Tv & Film Fan -> He is often found quoting a line from his favorites or referencing a form of media. However he doesn’t always like to repeat the same thing, more than twice.

“No more Punzel! If I have to hear Zachary Levi’s voice one more time, I’m done.” He shouts during moving night.

His friend gasps, “How dare you? Flynn Rider is wonderful!”

- Dreamer -> Despite having to cut out being a teacher in his life, he always wondered what he might’ve showned those young minds.

“I could’ve been a History teacher or English..? Not math, I suck at that subject! Hell, I might quit this job and find out..”

- He talks to favorite things -> He will talk to his car, his guns and jacket. You already know if Ben had a pet he will be chatting with that animal too.

He grins seeing his favorite handheld gun and picked it up, “Hello sweetheart, gods, I missed you.”

Other things include: Ben is a music lover, mildly superstitious, enjoys collecting items, fear of heights etc.

————

—————

Additional information | 📬 |

-> Favorite Hero

Bennett will never admit it but he enjoys the heroes he seems on the streets and in his line of world.

You would think because his aunt Peggy association to Captain America, automatically that’s his favorite. He admires and respects Steve Rogers greatly, hell he hopes to have enough goodness in his heart to be like him, but not his favorite.

He actually secretly admires Spider-Man for his wit, willingness to help out, relatability and kindness towards others. He only seen the hero from afar but he can tell why people online like him.

~~~

-> Dating Life

When it comes to dating, Bennett tends to casual date. Nothing serious. He enjoys meeting new people and exploring connections without the pressure of committing or wanting to make they both hit it off well.

He has had serval crushes over the years, nothing notably strong or anything. However he once had a significant crush on a fellow agent, but he never acted on it, fearing it could mess up their professional relationship. He didn’t to push anything.

His flirting style is light-hearted and humorous. He tends to use playful chill banter and finding whatever he can as a simple ice-breaker. His charm is evident in his ability to make others smile, and he often employs self-deprecating humor to put his crushes at ease.

Currently, Bennett is single and he doesn’t mind it actually. Honestly, he thinks no one can compete with his notorious lack of skills and put up with him half the time to his bad jokes. But hey? We might be wrong and there is a certain someone out there for him.

~~~~

~ Hobbies and Interests |🛋️| ~

Cooking: Bennett enjoys experimenting in the kitchen. He loves trying out new recipes, especially when it comes to making burgers and desserts. His friends often joke that he should open a food truck.

- “Who needs a Michelin star when you can make the perfect burger at home?”

Movie Buff & TV Binge-Watcher: Bennett has a soft spot for action flicks, buddy cop movies, and classic comedies. He often spends his free time rewatching old favorites or discovering new series to binge.

Collecting Vintage Memorabilia: Bennett enjoys collecting vintage movie posters, old records, and retro tech. His apartment is littered with relics of the past, from vinyl records to an old-fashioned radio. He particularly loves hunting for rare finds at flea markets and antique shops.

- “You can laugh at my vinyl collection all you want, but there's nothing like listening to the Life Is A Highway on the original record.”

Tinkering with Cars: Bennett inherited a love of cars from his father. He spends weekends tinkering with his car, working on engine repairs, or upgrading parts. He’s not a full-blown gearhead, but he enjoys spending time in his garage fixing up his old, reliable ride.

——

————

-> Fears and Insecurities |🪤| <-

Fear of Failure: Bennett often worries about not living up to his family legacy or his own potential. This fear sometimes holds him back from pursuing more serious relationships or challenges.

- “What if I’m just not cut out for this? What if I let everyone down?”

Insecurity About His Role & Fitting In: Sometimes he can feel like he’s qualified to be an agent, and to overcompensate that with humor.

- “I mean, I’m just a guy who likes burgers and makes a lot of bad jokes… how did I end up here?”

Fear of Not Finding His Own Path: Bennett has always wanted to follow his own dream of being a teacher or traveling, but the weight of family expectations and his current career pulls him in another direction. He’s afraid that he’ll never get the chance to live the life he truly wants, and instead, be stuck in a role he didn’t choose for himself.

- "Maybe it’s too late to figure out what I want. Maybe this is just who I am now…"

Insecurity About His Intelligence: Though he’s smart and capable, Bennett sometimes feels overshadowed by more academically inclined people, like the tech geniuses or strategists he encounters in SHIELD. He’s more street-smart than book-smart, and while he’s skilled, he occasionally doubts whether he’s as sharp as others around him.

- "Sure, I can shoot straight, but can I crack codes and come up with genius plans? Not so much. Maybe I’m just the muscle here."

~~~~~

-> Signature Style

Bennett tends to dress in casual, comfortable clothing—jeans, graphic tees, sweaters, thick jackets and sneakers.

He has a penchant for customizing his gear and equipment, adding personal touches that reflect his personality, such as stickers or playful designs.

~~~~~~

-> Habits

Midnight Snacker: Bennett has a habit of raiding the fridge late at night, often resulting in humorous situations when caught.

- “Don’t judge me, if my stomach is craving a handful of cereal at 1 in the morning.” He mumbled as he eats the mouthful of Honey-Nut Cheerios.

Movie Marathoner: He loves binge-watching movie series and often tries to convince friends to join him, complete with snacks and drinks. Sometimes he is found watching classic footage he got stored away somewhere while sipping a nice cup of coffee. Such as old race car footage.

Non-Stop Talker: Ben has a real habit of making one handed comments, give a witty compliment or over speaking in a conversation, especially when it’s not needed. Sometimes he can’t help it but spit out a few sentences and split out of the room just as quickly. Or if he gets nervous, he might ramble until someone shuts him up.

Short-Term Memory: He will never admit it but Ben has a tendency to forget things easily or get distracted, which results in issues for himself and others. People need to often repeat what they said a few times or Ben has to write it down somewhere to make sure he did it. He wonders if it’s on-set early Alzheimer like his aunt Peggy has but tries not to think about it too much. 

- “Can you repeat that? I only got caught half of what you said…” He replied looking up at you with a soft smile.

Vintage Fashion Enthusiast: One thing he will never admit nor you will ever except is for Ben to find fashion a causal factor in his life. He has a habit of wearing or finding timeless pieces whenever he went. Either a classic leather jacket, wrist watches, a necklace and or thick sweaters for colder temperatures. They’re simple items but a small part of him gets excited to wear them.

~~~~

~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~

Hope you like him! I might consider to continue his story soon hehe 😉

Let me know what you think

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @djs8891 @starkleila @aidanxsophxoxo @mandylove1000 @yetanotherwells @rickb-chaos @topgun-imagines @hardballoonlove @buckysteveloki-me @sherloquestea @ximehs @savemewattpad @theonlyblackcanary @terry-perry @triptuckers @daughter-of-melpomene @superspookyjanelle

[doppel-doodles]

Bai he and her age

Very random topic to throw out here to discuss but I always found it kinda funny how the fandom portrays Bai he as like a really young kid? Like as young as around 7 sometimes. Yet she doesn’t read that way to me at all.

(And no bai he hate, I genuinely do enjoy all the fandom stuff with her, I think it's cute! I’m just showing my own observations and headcanons here I guess- agree with me, don’t agree with me either is fine. However if you'd like to add your own thoughts please feel free to do so!)

Now to get this out of the way: Yes Lbd calls her host a child, and I'll not deny that. She is definitely a child but I don't think she is a SMALL child.

Let me explain:

Considering Mk, who is agreed to be an adult, is also referred to by Lbd with "child" it is not unheard of her to use the term for someone who is simply younger than her, which is easy considering she is ancient.

Also she definitely very deliberately emphasized not just her host age but also her innocence when she called her that. In an attempt to discourage Wukong from killing her, it wasn’t just flavor text, it was manipulation.

Now to some other things:

First her voice, in her few lines of dialogue she definitely sounds young, or I think youthful is the better word for it but definitely not like a small child. More like a teenager. There is some deepness to her voice I just don't usually hear with preteen characters.

And I do acknowledge that is most likely because her and Lbd share a voice actress(who is awesome btw that's some really good range with how different these characters feel-) so you can chalk it up to her not changing the vocal range up too much so we would take Lbd more seriously and to make her more recognisable.

But it's not just the voice the way she is drawn never read to me as that small either, definitely not as old as mk and Mei but that’s because she is drawn with no eye lashes and make up which by default makes animated characters feel younger.

As example Lbd definitely wears make up and look how it immediately makes her look so much older.

Also while possessed we see bai he without the cardigan we get a better look at her body shape and it's basically the exact same as Mei.

Which makes sense every average lego has the same shape between male and female but still we do see Lego kids in the background and they are drawn differently.

Even here these two characters read younger to me, even the girl but that could be a me thing.

Now lastly this is just some context based observation, like how she was apparently walking around at night chasing a cat??? I dunno I just feel like if she was that young then she wouldn’t be allowed to do that unless a guardian was nearby searching WITH HER but that can be a me thing.

To conclude I would say Bai he at oldest is like a teenager in my personal interpretatio, probably around 15.

Now does that mean you have to accept this as Canon? HELL NO-

It's my interpretation, this headcanon is just as valid as your own, if you don't agree then keep making itty bitty bai he content! It's cute! Sometimes angsty but also It's fun! Writing kids is so much fun, I should know I have four kid characters-

All im saying is there can also be value to a slightly older Bai he, a cringey teen who loves cats and went through the trauma of possession, basically having her face,voice,body hell her identity. Ripped away and used without her consent by another to do heinous things, during a time where you arguably just start to figure out who you are and what your identity even is.

Anyway thank you for coming to my ted talk, leave your thoughts just be respectful and good time zone-

[vagabond-umlaut]

ramé 3.0

love.

a word everyone spells as l-o-v-e, except one certain young sorcerer – to whom it appears h-a-p-p-y, to whom it appears h-a-v-o-c – to whom it appears the shape of the letters of your name.

you, on the other hand, forget how to spell when the same word is before you – a fact which, your admirer reckons, would have been a major problem were he not he – that is, were he not the one and only 'gojo satoru'.

and thus begins, the plan.

and thus begins, the six steps to catch one's crush's eye — by the six eyes.

|3| gather info on your crush.

[READ 1.0 HERE AND 2.0 HERE!]

▸ student!gojo satoru x student!reader; fem!reader; the reader's backstory & CT are revealed; angry protective satoru; reader is a mean protector [both of herself and of satoru]; she openly and unashamedly digs in this side of satoru too; warning alert of there being a terrible rumor-monger relative, horrible heartless higher-ups & a fight [your favourite wins, dw]. not-really-angst... not-really-fluff either... somewhere in the between... the ending's fluffy for sure! [this is my fave chapter so far too! :))]

▸ aniki = older brother in japanese

▸ find other parts of 'ramé' and other [stand-alone] fics set in the same universe as this work here! anyways, image, divider & characters ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"oh, you wouldn't want to be friends with her."

the comment cuts through the air with a noisy chuckle and a raucous chorus of giggles - gojo's knuckles grow white with the painfully tight grip he has on the glass of mocktail.

suguru shoots him a contrite face from the other side of the crowd, mouthing an apology with a helpless shrug. the boy looks away from his best friend to throw a glance at the two girls a few seats away.

a beat passes wherein shoko and utahime share a brief look, and the former speaks up, an odd edge to her voice as she leans forwards, a smirk directed at the boy. "and why wouldn't geto? she seems like a pretty nice girl to be friends with."

your cousin scoffs. gojo seriously wishes there wasn't a strict rule set by his father for the clan members of not meddling in the other clans' matters, to maintain an image of neutrality and amiability.

(it's not like he prefers not to break rules or is afraid of his father, the boy thinks grimly as he gulps the last sip of his mocktail and returns the glass to the table with a thud. it's far from being either of those.

it's just that with a small response from him in this matter, you will be dragged under the elders' scrutiny; your friendship with him too will be - and that's something he would never wish upon you. so the boy stays quiet, opting to-)

"what the fuck did you just say?"

the chitter-chatter dies down to a deathly silence in an instant.

rising from his seat, gojo stalks towards the boy sitting on the couch. from the background, he can hear few voices urge him to stop, to get back, with repeated 'satoru, no' and 'satoru, relax' - but the boy finds not a cell in his body wanting to heed those voices. marching right up to your cousin, who shoots him a pathetically fake smirk now, the boy repeats himself, "what. did. you. just. say."

the target of the query huffs a chuckle, drunk and stinking - and your friend realizes now just how much of a diluted description of him you gave him the other day. the guy isn't just some petty irritating relative of yours, he is a fucking bastard.

a fucking bastard who's going to get beaten into a pulp, if he doesn't choose his next words wisely.

another chuckle leaves him, before he gets up from his seat, a slight sway to the action as he sneers at gojo. now, were the circumstances different, the white-haired boy is sure such a brazen person would've impressed him, who is the strongest sorcerer there is, but not today.

not when you're the one who is the innocent undeserving recipient of such a remark as the one he utters next.

"i just said, my cousin's a freak who can read someone's mind without them knowing - and she does that all the time for her sick enjoyment. no one can ever trust that bitch."

a fist connects with the side of your cousin's face and before anyone can realize what's happening, the two boys are rolling on the floor in a brawl, gojo obviously with the upper hand as he lands blow after blow and yell after yell on the other.

a quiet voice whispers to his conscience, chiding his response to the situation to be too harsh, too cruel - but no sooner does it appear than it is stomped down and shoved away by images from the past.

images of a little girl crying, yelling, screaming, eyes squeezed shut, how everything's so loud, how everyone's so noisy, how everyone just can't seem to stop talking of her - in the shocked silence of the party hall.

images of being informed over the phone, his friend won't be coming to play today either - for a class or a function or a cold, he cares the least for - before overhearing later at dinner, it's the fifth day the girl's been comatose since her last treatment.

images of brash celebrations revelling in the discovery and return of a technique, long thought lost - the new messiah, they exclaim - while the said person looks at the elders with face steeped in what, the boy doesn't need his six eyes to know, is terror.

images of a girl, saying in a surprisingly void tone, how horrible, how terrible, how despicable a weapon they've made her into - sneaking into people's minds to steal the meaning of their lives away - before giving a suggestion, too smart, too sharp for a girl of ten; although-

"satoru!"

the singular word snaps the sorcerer's thoughts into two, making him move his irate gaze away from the bloodied face of the bitch to the door-

oh.

it's you.

you, standing in the school uniform, a bag slung over your shoulders.

you, eyes round and lips parted as you stare at the scene before.

you, who takes only a second before you rush forwards, moving him away from your cousin, worried gaze raking over his features instead of the bruised wailing mess of a relative left behind.

"'toru," the word escapes you in a whisper as you maneuver him into sitting on the couch.

another voice wafts over to him, a lot like suguru's, but he pays it no mind, wanting to focus on you and you only, while your fingers travel over his face, brush his bangs away, tuck them behind the shell of his ear, then finally come to a rest on the apple of his cheeks, the grazing of the thumb soothing a minor cut.

though the way your eyebrows furrow at it, emotions darting across your face a million a second, from confusion to concern to anger - gojo reckons, were anyone to see you now, they would think it ain't a tiny nick but a gaping wound.

the white-haired boy grasps your wrist in his fingers.

"i'm okay, shortie," the second-year reassures you in a whisper. you peer at him closely in turn for a beat longer, before a long sigh leaves you though the frown on your lips stays the same. he would've called you cute if not for the murderous intent rolling off you in waves...

gojo decides to call you hot now.

a seething gaze with a soft "what happened, 'toru?" reaches him next.

oh yes, gojo swoons inwardly, you're being so fucking hot.

nuzzling into the palm cradling his cheek, the boy smiles. "nothing you need to worry about."

"it's your cousin," a female voice butts in before a known pair of heads walk into his vision, one smoking a cigarette while the other looks at him then you, mildly stunned.

shoko continues, as laidback as ever (as if she too wasn't glowering then), "suguru there asked him something about you to which the pig replied with some nonsense, because of which satoru here jumped in to defend your honour." your eyes travel from her to him. a whoosh of air leaves the girl and she takes a long drag from a cigarette. "nothing very serious, to be honest..."

"but nothing too unserious either," utahime adds, which earns a small nod from her girlfriend, "if the asshole dares to lie about you once-"

"what's to say he won't again," you finish the sentence for her, a dark shadow looming over your face, then throw the culprit a harsh look. "and what shit did you spout, mr. resident douchebag of the clan?"

a corner of gojo's lips quirk up at the nickname you gave, then part in a grin at the reaction your cousin gave to that. embarassed, for sure, yet never going farther than glaring at you from those swollen eyes.

if you weren't standing here, caressing his face, your friend's certain, he would have gone to tear him a new one - the latter still scowling at you whilst intermittently yelping at the pain of his wounds.

a long sigh escapes you, visibly tired and annoyed.

"i know you can hear me just fine by that stink eye you're giving me, so fess up now - what the fuck were you telling about me?"

an absolute silence answers your question, and just when gojo thinks he might have to leave your warm cocoon to go beat your cousin up, again, suguru's voice sounds from beside, "he was talking about your CT."

"oh?" a brow rises. "and what about it?"

"apparently - and i quote," the long-haired boy adds with palms raised and faced forwards, at the scowl he shoots him, "you can read others' minds without their knowledge, and you do that always. for fun, your cousin claims."

you blink, and turn to your relative; a mask, gojo observes with a hint of melancholy, slipping over your features - not that the boy blames you, though. you need a mask - now, most of all times.

"you said that, aniki?" you inquire, the caressing hand over gojo's skin stilling with a slight tremor. he envelopes your hand in his; an action you respond to with a squeeze, continuing, "but why did you? after all that happened, after all that everyone in the family knows, why?"

a stubborn scoff sounds from the other end of the room; one of the six eyes twitches in its socket.

"i don't think you should ask this question, shortie," the second-year hums, pulling a nonplussed face from you. he grins, "you can simply read his mind, no? your aniki won't be forced to give a reply; your ask too will be answered. besides, this isn't gonna be the first time you're breaking into someone's mind, and, your cousin's not even gonna feel his mind being read - a painless procedure - isn't that right, aniki?"

"fuck no!!!!"

and bingo!

gojo watches you cast a long look at him, then back at your cousin, before a slow smile spreads on your features, the glint so dear to him making a comeback in your eyes.

"not a bad idea, senpai," you say, lifting your free hand and directing it at the culprit. a few gasps sound around you, soon followed by a few murmurs - your senpai watches them slide off your skin like water off a duck's back. you announce in a sing-song fashion, "well, here goes nothing~"

then stop at the anguished cry, your smile widening into a grin.

sweet and smug, like the cat who got the canary.

gojo feels three pairs of eyes look at his smirk, all at the same time - the boy lets them look. the two of you share dynamics, the nature of which none, except you two, can ever dream of comprehending.

wailing, your cousin rises and stumbles over to you, hands folded in a pleading gesture.

"please, no, no, no," he sobs, very nearly falling at your feet before you take a step backwards, disgust overtaking your grin, sending the boy reeling back. "i beg you, no. please don't kill me. i was just kidding; it was just a joke. i'm sorry, don't kill me."

"kill you?" you let out a shocked gasp, placing a hand over your chest, "i would never. i was just trying to read your mind, aniki. why on earth would that kill you? you won't even feel anything-"

"it's the binding vow, you bitch!!" the boy spits, interrupting you, "the one you took years back, 'cause you didn't want the higher-ups to use you as a spy again; giving up the element of secrecy of your CT to-"

your cousin pauses, the realization and the ensuing horror and regret dawning over his face; gojo presses him, sharing a smile with you.

"to?"

the answer arrives as a shuddered whisper - a whisper audible to all, however, thanks to the heavy silence in the room.

"to make it lethal on its victim instead; an attack none can stop, not even a special-grade."

the crash of a glass, or five, impacting with the ground sounds; you give a satisfied nod, smirking.

gojo runs a palm over your dishevelled hair, undoubtedly from driving with the windows down to this stupid meet of the teenagers from the jujutsu clans. you give him a smile, mouth opening to say something, but he doesn't let you. "don't thank me, stupid."

"okay," you acquiesce, a slight huff to your tone before it grows softer, "but can i at least say you were being very cool then? i'm impressed."

"who's impressed with whom?" a crass voice interrupts the moment before gojo can even form it entirely between the two of you.

three - nope, five (even your classmates are here, tch!) teasing smiles float into his vision; the second-year opens his mouth to throw back a retort - except you snatch the opportunity away from him.

"i'm impressed with gojo senpai- any problems, anyone?" you say, tilting your head to one side with the cutest little furrow in the midst of your brows. all five shake their heads, smiles widening before one of them falls on your next words.

"but the next time i see you, geto senpai, asking others what sort of a person i am - don't you dare deny it, you asked two of my friends too the same thing, they told me; god knows why you need my character certificate, though, and for whom; you're acting as if you've a sibling i wish to date and you wanna know everything about me before giving the green signal, but whatever it is, senpai-"

you heave a breath, a break from your tirade - while the remainder of the room's breathing stays suspended.

gojo glances away from you to find the attention of all the attendees fixed on you. he wraps an arm around your midsection and rests his chin on your shoulder. you lean the side of your head onto his.

"i promise i'll create problems for you, more if i see gojo senpai being dragged into the aftermath of your curiosity - okay?"

gojo watches his best friend look at you, terrified, for a second before turning to throw him a glare. the white-haired boy bites back a grin.

placing hands on his hips, suguru exclaims, "you know what, i tried to help but no one here is worthy of my assistance."

"no one asked you for this help, suguru," shoko interjects smoothly, "you were the one who insisted, something about this method being the most effective or something if they want to catch her attention-"

"whoa, whoa, whoa. who wants to catch my attention?" you inquire, cutting them two off. gojo's classmates stop and the blood flowing in his veins drops to a subzero as he cranes his neck to look at you.

you twist to look back at him. "is there someone who wants to catch my attention? do you know them?"

"i-uh-um," the boy stutters, mind scrambling for a reply - something, anything - before nanami interrupts, a small smile on his face, "yeah, there is someone, actually, and we all know him. geto senpai was just gathering some data on you as his wingman."

"oh," you mutter, gaze dropping to the ground, then lifting to gojo. the boy simply blinks back, which draws a frown from you in turn.

retrieving a pair of shades from your bag, you hand it to him and turn back to suguru, a barely-there smile on your lips.

"next time he wants some info on me, ask him to ask me directly. i'll appreciate it."

"noted, boss," the words escape gojo before the addressed can even reply, utterly unmoved by the five exasperated glares [honestly, it's four: haibara can never really glare at anyone] - the next step of the plan already whirring to life in the shades-donning boy's brain.

so, so giddy at the fact of being told of the golden key to your heart.

▸ wrote an info-loaded chapter the first time in my life; please let me know your thoughts or any feedback! 😇

▸ series: we're the summer to our winter rain

▸ masterlist

[elfecassepied]

hellooooo!!!

yap to me about your Dsmp x Epic AU!! I'd love to hear about it!! :DDDDDD

Yeeeesss *vibrating*

Me with this au right now:

Ok so. I'm a big fan of the Odyssey and Epic the musical, the story of the AU isn't a 100% copy of these sources materials mostly characters like and lore like. For what I've seen now the narrative course is the same than the musical until the Vengeance Saga (the Vengeance Saga rocks but I want to do something a little different and maybe closer than the original Odyssey. I'm not sure yet but I just love the Phaeacians so much I will do something including them). I don't really care about the Troy war (I mean in the au, I love classicals Iliad included) so I didn't bother matching dsmp's characters for Iliad's characters, like Diomedes, Aganemnon, Helen and all.

Dream is the reigning king of Ithaca(™) who is dragged, literally, in the L'Manberg war away from his family. George is his wife (we don't believe in gender in this house) and I chosed Tubbo to be Telemachus (inspired by one of the dynamic I sometimes see in fanfiction were Tubbo and Dream are brothers coded).

George gets a little more, proactive role I would say, in defending his house from the suitors. Suitors started to come since 11 years or something like that. He can't really fight all these men who are youngs, well equipped and full of energy when himself runs a kingdom low on resources and men where the current military force is young and unexperienced (missing the prev generation to teach them). So he uses more sneaky ways, and it's not so rare than some suitors suddenly change their mind and leave or were never been seen again after getting a little to bold. Callahan is George's confidant and "right hand man" and yes he helps him hide the bodies. George also has an ongoing deal with the god HD (Hera's role).

Tubbo doesn't know what's going on but George said him to always tell me if one of the men was rude to him (the ones who threatened his son always disappeared first). But he tries to help is own way which mostly translate by being a little shit and sometimes got into fights with the assholes, like the small feral gremlin he is.

On the other side of the sea, Dream just lost around ten of his men including his little-brother/almost-son figure Ranboo to the hands of an angered cyclop, Ponk. And follows it by having a fight with his protector god and perceived friend Technoblade, resulting in the god leaving him alone to face the new challenges on his way: especially the wrath of the god Sam, who was Ponk's boyfriend oops. He will encounter threats and allies equally, including: the god Philza and his crows minions, the shape-shifting enchanter Quackity on his island of Las Nevadas, visiting the underworld to have a chat with the prophet Karl Jacob, slaying some sirens and feeding the sea monster Nikki with some of his own men.

At first I wanted to make a parallel between the human trio Dream, George and Sapnap (Eurylochus), and a god trio XD (Zeus), HD (Hera) and PVP (as Apollo or Ares I wasn't sure). However I changed my mind, made Punz Dream's best friend and right hand man and yeeted PVP to make Sapnap himself a god because I wanted to have an unnecessary Karlnapity storyline in the background. Take it, it's free.

Also I separated Wilbur in two characters: L'Manberg Wilbur/Ghostbur named William who was the crown prince of L'Manberg and died in the war before the beginning of my story and Pogtopia Wilbur/Revived Wilbur who I call Wilbur and who is an exiled titan, ancient friend of Philza and Technoblade, playing the role of Calypso. Tommy was William's little brother and a literal toddler Dream killed by throwing him from L'Manberg's walls.

I have an ongoing theme with how mask/hiding face is linked to inhumanity and how gods or godly beings Dream will meet on his way will somehow hide a part or their full face ; and how he himself started to wear his iconic mask as he chose the path of monstrosity ; and at the same time George assassinated suitors in silence, wearing a veil and pretending to grief his husband ; while Technoblade even if he said he was done™ with humans will be befriended by Tubbo until he stops wearing his mask around him because he's growing closer to humanity. So yeah shits like that.

I will end this little vent with a non-fixed list of the gods I talked about and their domains:

XD (Zeus), king of the gods, god of order, power, lighting, possibilities and civilization

HD (Hera), queen of the gods, god of night, sleep, oaths and destiny

Sam (Poseidon), god of sea, strength, earthquakes, energy and creativity

Technoblade (Athena), god of blood, battles, vitality and strategies

Philza (Aeolus), god of winds, tempests, travelers, sailors and change

Sapnap (Apollo), god of the Sun, fire, protection and loyalty

Wilbur (Calypso), titan of music, song, chaos and free-spirit (for now *wink*Fundy*wink*) (ex titan of fire and war)

[quintessencewrites]

King

queen! Ramonda x king! reader

“Your Highness-”

“King. Do not be afraid to say it.”

Warnings: ANGST, explicit language, implied homophobia, mentions of misogyny and sexism, character death, gore, mentions of blood, violence, etc, ends in fluff

Word Count: 8.5k+

Tags:

@percsanej @k3nn3dyxo @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honeyy @g4yforu @widowmakker @becauseimswagman11 @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed @malltake12 @msudaku @faeriah-thvv @mbakuetshurisprincess @honey-teaaaaaaaaa @pinkcorns @takeyakii @yamsthoughtss @thethickersidee @shurisbathwaterr @shurismainbxtch @justariellovee @blackgirlfariyy @chocoflagcutiii @taiiunknownn @zhanylai @ziayamikaelson  @beautybyfire @pinkwrightt @jenlouvre @letitiasleftfoot @6-noir @kya-rosee @saintwrld @ilikegecos @shurismainbxtch @motheroffae @marsolgy @verachiii @shuriszn @playgurlxoxo @ashleighshaw @te-23 @iminlovewithdomandtish @limbozqueen @letitiamyevangeline @youralphawolf72 @biganimeweeb246 @vampzxi

Requested by: @mysteryofthe90s

A/N: Takes place in an AU where Ramonda marries reader instead of T'Chaka. Reader is of a royal bloodline and Wakanda is far less progressive than we see in our movies.

The request was literally just "reader gets kidnapped and Ramonda goes to any lengths to get her back", but of course I had to take that and run with it, but yall, I'm sooo freaking proud of this one and of the work I've been putting out recently. I hope you guys enjoy!

No greater love story exists than that of Wakanda’s rulers. 

King and Queen.

Bound together since childhood, she didn’t make a move without your hand intertwined with hers. 

She had a calculating young mind, moving about life like a chess piece in a game she was never to lose. 

Truly, Wakanda had no greater ruler than your queen. All the kingdom’s operations, all its policies were in her hands. Behind the scenes, nothing moved unless she did, not even you.

Her bronze eyes fluttered back and forth with apparent boredom. What others thought was her simply blending into the background, you recognized as profound observation. She stood, soaking in the fast-paced words of the elders far quicker than you could have imagined. 

Game plans came to play right before her with everything they tried to throw at you. 

This meeting was truly pointless, and it only called for you, but today was special, and you weren’t about to leave her out of any of the day’s events.

The elders were strategic. One fuck up on your behalf, that’s all it would take for the unforgiving geriatrics. 

“What do you foresee you are to do if the country is unsatisfied with a female as their sole protector?”

She saw the way your brows furrowed at the question. The corners of your mouth barely moved south, just a millimeter or two. You were growing frustrated with the hypotheticals. They’d been throwing them at you for over an hour now and it was taking the patience of a God to keep you respectful. 

You hadn’t ingested the heart-shaped herb yet, and you were sure telepathy wasn’t a power it would bestow on you, though you would see no use for it. King and Queen have been together so long, you’d become one- mind, soul, and body. 

Your pitch-black irises sparkled with fury, settling on her much softer ones. Her brown beauties extinguished the fire within you, even if only for a moment.

Words didn’t even need to be exchanged. You could hear her voice in your head loud and clear, though her lips remained sealed. “Control.”

Control yourself. Walk with grace. Handle your shit. 

The mantra flowed so smoothly through your mind. It was comical, how tired you’d grown of hearing it. She’d been repeating the same words, over and over and over again since you were adolescents. She found no other way to control your temper than that statement, so simple, yet so effective. 

“I do not believe my father left his throne for his daughter to be disrespected on, hm?”

Your distinguished voice led the elders to drop theirs to a mumble. What should have been complete silence at their King speaking were whispers instead. 

“Should’ve been a son-”

You couldn’t pinpoint who had said it. A disadvantage of not yet having the panther-like hearing. 

“And yet, it wasn’t; perks of being an only child. My father was proud to have a daughter, Elder. He brought me up as an heir, so that I may one day take over the mantle, both as king and as Black Panther, so with all due respect, hold your tongue.”

The smile may not have played across her face, but it danced behind her eyes. Your queen was proud; you so often attempted to ignore her when she vocalized what you did not want to hear, but clearly, you’d been listening. You spoke in such a way, the older aged Wakandans winced as though they’d been burned. 

“Your majesty, tradition states that you were to marry and-”

You did marry. She was right there in the room with you with the title of ‘Queen’ having been bestowed upon her for quite some time now.

“I did marry.”

And that was her cue.

With her head held high, the queen made her way across the board, past the onlooking pawns, through the bishops and rooks, not a knight in sight, straight to her place beside her King. 

What a handsome couple the two of you were. Her white dress contrasted deeply with your dark suit, creating a beautiful eyesore. Night and day, black and white, a menacing pair.

Though her head was absent of its crown, she stood beside you poised perfectly as though a line of string ran from her spine to the ceiling, holding it in the straightest of lines. 

“We mean no disrespect to the queen, however-”

They always mean disrespect, regardless of what they said. 

“Then I suggest you quit talking before I get disrespectful.” These closed-minded seniors could get your blood boiling like no other. Your voice wavered with anger, though your Queen’s steady words rang in your ears. “Control, my King.”

A deep breath was all it took for you to continue. “Our country is far more advanced than the small-minded council that attempts to run it. They reacted with enthusiasm when I took the throne after my father’s passing. They welcomed my Queen with open arms. I do not foresee them having a problem with my taking of the Black Panther mantle, just as my father did before me, and his father before him.”

Her hand rested on your shoulder before you could continue. To outside eyes, it was an empty gesture; to you, a hidden “well done.”

“Your Highness-”

“King. Do not be afraid to say it.”

Their hesitation proved that they were indeed, afraid to say it. The council continued to speak, your title not daring to utter from their lips. 

“What are you to do if they are not as welcoming to a female protector as they were to a woman King?”

All heads swiveled when it was not you to answer, but instead your Queen. “Do you see any reason why they would have a problem with it?”

What a funny sight, the view before you. Five ancient leaders, all mouths gaping like fish out of water. 

“Ramonda, the question was directed to the throne holder-”

Rage fueled you to your feet. “You dare speak her name, yet refuse to utter mine?”

Their cowardly forms sat silenced. Ramonda stood behind you, unfazed by your outburst, still standing straight and proud. 

“We are through here. Meeting adjourned.”

Hands intertwined as they always were, you and your Queen made for the door. You were through with this damn council, with these damn elders. How your father put up with it for so long, you had no idea. No wonder he’d rather the ancestors than this-

“Your Majesty, uh, King-” The word was spit from their lips like it hurt. “What are you to do if someone were to challenge you for the title?”

Truth be told, this question sounded more like a threat than a hypothetical. Your steps froze in place, your Queen standing just before you. “I shall fight for my title, council.”

They could hear your footsteps retreating from the room with an echo that could surely be heard across the country.

The giggle she let escape as soon as the throne room doors were closed was far too loud. The queen’s lips were pinned to your cheeks, pecking at your nose, your lips, your forehead.

It broke your hardened exterior, planting a too-wide grin across your cheeks. “Did I handle my shit, my love?”

“Yes, ukumkani wam (my King), you handled your shit.”

The waters rushing your feet were a good distraction from the loud chanting that came from the crowd of onlookers surrounding you. 

She stood at the front of it, baring a corset far too tight and a face of armor, both of which she’d expressed her hatred for. 

“Will this be long, sithandwa sam? This corset is very uncomfortable, and I’d like to get it off-”

“So long as nobody has the sense to challenge me, my love, this won’t be long, no. Then I can peel that corset off of you myself.”

You hadn't needed to see her cheeks redden to know your words caused her to blush. Even now, though she stood quite a bit away, you knew they burned with the wideness of her smile. 

The rocks beneath you were slick and admittedly hard to walk on. You truly prayed that this would be an unnecessary occasion, one that would go by uneventfully. 

The chanting ceases, producing an eerie silence. Zuri’s voice was booming, his royal purple robes being soaked at the hem due to the rushing waters. You stood, tall and ready, spear in one hand, shield in the other, with lightweight clothing adorning your figure. 

“Victory, in ritual combat, comes by yield, or death! If any tribe wishes to put forth a warrior, I now offer a path to the throne.”

“Yuh!” It was loud and resounding, coming from your furthest left. The members of the tribe ingested the call and threw it back into the crowd. “The Merchant Tribe will not challenge today.”

“Haye! The Border Tribe will not challenge today.”

“Ibombe! The River Tribe will not challenge today!”

Three tribes refused to challenge. Perhaps this would be easy after all.

“Aye! The Mining Tribe will not challenge today!”

Four down- one to go. 

“Mayafa!” His tribe doesn’t take the liberty of repeating him as the other tribes did. A silence passes over all Wakandans present. Your Queen is doing what she does best- observing. 

You can feel the uneasiness present in her bones as your eyes never leave the Jabari warrior. 

“Zakar, what are you doing?” Zuri’s usually thunderous voice is brought down to a whisper. He can’t hide the shock that rings in his words. 

“It is Challenge Day; and I, Zakar of the Jabari Tribe, wish to challenge for the throne.”

Gasps and murmurs sprinkle across the crowd. Between your pulled-together brows are anger and surprise as well. Even your calculating Queen seems thrown off. 

Zakar was nothing more than a muscle man with an ape-like brain to match his ape-like proportions. 

If it was a challenge he wanted, a challenge he would get. 

All eyes were on you as you stepped toward the brute. Shoulders squared and chest out, you stood as your father taught you to. “I accept.”

“My King-”

Bast-bless Zuri. His worry for you was not very well hidden beneath his aging features. He’d surely watched your father through his own Challenge Day, standing amongst him as a friend more than a mentor and it would be your will that he stand beside your own son or daughter for theirs as well.

“It is okay, Zuri.” His hands squeezed yours with a passing gesture as you stepped toward your newfound enemy. 

Nose-to-nose and eye-to-eye; Zakar showed no signs of intimidation. His breath was hot, his nostrils flared, and a disgusting grin plastered across his face. “Well, Princess?”

“King,” you corrected. “I am your King. And I accept.”

Ramonda’s breath caught in her throat. 

His facial armor was replaced and a weapon identical to yours was thrown into his hands. 

Your eyes wandered to his primate-like shape. He and you would have surely trained in different weight classes. His reach was much larger than yours and it would take quite a few hits to get him down. You didn’t want to have to impale him to get him to yield. 

You were sure, though, that he would not show you the same mercy. That spear of his weapon would pierce your flesh with no mercy and you’d be damned if you were to die in front of your Queen in such a brutal way. 

Someone grabbed her hand, but she wasn’t sure who. Everything around her went blurry, fading into a mess of colors. Ramonda’s only focus was you. 

How dare you accept such a challenge? The two of you hadn’t spoken of you fighting today and for you to just go and accept it- You were going to die. Zakar wouldn’t hold back; the larger man’s strength was what yours wished to be. He was going to kill you, for sure. 

How dare you take the chance to drop dead in front of your Queen?

The Dora Milaje and Jabari Warriors barely had time to take their stances before the blunt end of Zakar’s spear came swinging toward you. 

The ugliest sound echoed through the waterfall as your shield just barely saved your fate. His quick actions confirmed what you already knew- He would not be playing fair. 

Ramonda could feel every muscle in her body tense. She so badly wanted to jump in, to help you, save you, fight with you. You more often than not trained together; she was just as skilled as you were. 

And had it not been for the strange hand squeezing hers, she probably would have. 

Every swing, every jab, she followed. She waited, breathing ceased, for you to take the upper hand. His spear swung hard to your left, so you dodged right. He came at you with his shield, so you retreated. You couldn’t even pick up your own weapon, too busy escaping his. 

The edge of the waterfall grew closer and closer. The rocks beneath you held no grip and exhaustion filled your lungs. 

Zakar’s patience was dwindling. “Stop running, Princess.” 

Princess. That’s all you would be to them. A princess beneath her father, the true king. A princess who was handed the title and did not earn it. You were still that little girl adorned with bows and lace, and not Wakanda’s king who would bear the crown proudly. 

The elders saw it, Zakar and the Jabari saw it, hell you wondered if your people saw it as well. You didn’t have time to meet your Queen’s gaze, though you could feel it stuck on you. She was watching; she was always watching. 

Ramonda was watching, counting on you, rooting for you. She saw you as Princess and now she sees you as King. 

The flesh on your arm burned as Zakar’s spear sliced it open. The ivory color of your bone peeked through. It was the arm that gripped your weapon and it nearly buckled out of your hand. The breath was knocked straight out of your lungs when he followed up with a fist to your gut. Your scream pierced the air, fueling Ramonda’s body forward as yours fell to its knees. Several hands attached to several invisible bodies held her back, though they could not hold her tongue. “Sithandwa sam! Sithandwa sam-”

“I will give you a moment before I finish you, princess. Address your wife.”

Your eyes fluttered upward, vision blurry and hazed as it rested upon your Queen. “M-Mondie-”

Her loose curls bounced to and fro. No nicknames, no affection. Maybe later, but not now. 

“Zilawule, sithandwa sam!”

Control yourself, my love. 

Your gaze bore into her distressed features. Your lids were heavy and your arm hurt like hell, as did your ribs. 

“Hamba ngobabalo!”

Walk with grace.

Your head fell, eyes filling with tears that fell into the waters beneath you. 

“Ndijonge (Look at me) Y/n!”

“Ndijonge, sithandwa sam,” she begged, much softer. 

Your gaze was drawn away from the rushing waters and back onto your wife. 

“Phatha ikaka yakho.”

Handle your shit.

“I am your Queen, my love! That is an order.”

Every damn thing hurt when your injured arm moved to pierce the rocks under you. Your legs were shaky, barely able to hold your weight.

Zakar’s chuckle was booming. “You attempt to get up, girl? Fine, then. I’ll just knock you right back down.”

“Remind me to have you banished for the way you speak to your King, Zakar.”

“Banishment will not be possible when you are with the ancestors. Just ask your father-” 

Had he said it loud enough for everyone to hear, they’d surely react the same way you had. 

The roar that came from you was ugly, followed by the crumbling sound of Zakar’s mask as your spear came in contact with it. Your backhand swing had been too quick for him to foresee and the clay mask shielding his face broke into many pieces as it fell into the water. 

The headache that would plague him tonight would be one from hell. Your foot came in contact with his chest, barely knocking him back with the first kick, but succeeding on the second one. Thank Bast for the slippery rocks that you stood on; there was no way you’d have been able to get him down otherwise. 

His large body hit the ground hard and you could see the anger flickering behind his eyes. The blunt end of your spear almost broke with the force you used to shove it into his shoulder. You were prepared to pop the bone right out of its joint.

“Yield, Zakar.”

He stayed silent, stare never leaving you. Your weapon dug further into his aching body.

“Yield. I can not let you up unless you do, because I am certain you will not let me live, and if that is the case-”

Your spear flips, drawing the sharp end into his flesh instead. “If that is the case, Zakar, then I can not let you live.”

It feels as though the entire kingdom of Wakanda is holding its breath. Slowly, the sharp weapon sunk further and further, disappearing within his tissue. His face was contorted with pain, teeth-baring a grimace. “Yield, Zakar, before you bleed out!”

His eyes were animalistic, his voice low enough so only you could hear. “Is that not what you want?”

Zakar gave you no chance to answer. “I yield.”

In unison, everyone in the crowd breathed a sigh of relief. You felt a weight lift from your shoulders and nodded a ‘thank you’ to the warrior on the ground. “Take a deep breath.”

He did and in that same breath, remained silent as you pulled the spear from his shoulder. Zuri rushed over as the Jabari tribe picked their leader up from the ground. 

The pendant that your father wore on his challenge day, and his father before him was heavy, adorned with panther teeth as it hung around your neck. Your right hand was lifted into the air, fist up as Zuri’s deep voice declared “Y/N Y/L/N, King of Wakanda, and the Black Panther!”

Louder than any other screams and cheers was Ramonda, leading the chant, fist-pumping into the air. 

The chambers that held the heart-shaped herb were way too hot and way too dark. You wanted nothing more than to be in the presence of your Queen, your Mondie, promising that she’d be awaiting your return from the ancestral planes. 

You couldn’t ignore the impending feeling of doom as you lay down, arms crossed over your chest in a salute. The herbal drink had been prepared and it was your move as to what happened next. Zuri stood above you, placing the bowl to your lips as he spoke. 

“Allow the heart-shaped herb to bestow the powers of The Black Panther and take you to the ancestral plane.” The drink was bitter and burned like liquor as you swallowed. Convulsions wrecked your body as your system digested it.

“Azzuri, we call on you. Come here, to your daughter.”

The sand. That was the part you dreaded the most. It began to cover your body and you inhaled deep, thankful to breathe while you still could. Everything became muffled when the first grains hit your face. 

“Praise the ancestors,” Zuri’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

Everything was dark.

The gasp that came from you was desperate, as though you’d been drowning. Dirt surrounded you, and you willed your eyes to adjust to the low light. 

The garden you sat in was familiar. You hadn’t been in it in quite a while, but you’d never forgotten its layout. You stood, allowing the white garment you were clothed in to flow around you. 

It was instinctual, the way your feet led you to a bench in the far corner, concealed with desert roses and blue lilies. It wasn’t a surprise to see your usual place already occupied.

The gentleman wasn’t as old as he should have been to leave this life. He was dressed in white clothes of his own with a gentle smile greeting you as you approached.

“Baba-” You sat next to him, in disbelief that you could see him again, so alive, though he wasn’t.

“Uyenzile (You did it), intombazana yakho (my daughter).”

Your smile was bright, though your eyes were dull with the tears that threatened to spill. “I did it, Baba.”

“You are King.”

“I am King.” It hurt to get the words out. It was the only time you’d said it and truly fucking meant it. 

His shoulder pushed into yours, joy prevalent in his features. “Who did you have to fight, hmm? Who dared challenge the daughter of Azzuri?”

“Nobody at first. Then the Jabari made their entrance-”

Just as quickly as it came, his smile was gone. “The Jabari? Zakar?”

Your head bobbed. “Zakar.”

“Are you- were you hurt?”

You couldn’t look at him and tell him you’d gotten injured. You attempted to pivot the conversation instead. “I did it, baba.”

He wasn’t swayed. Your father was too smart a man. “Be careful, y/n/n.”

“Be careful? Of what? I won. I am King, I am The Black Panther; he can not challenge me again.”

His head hung, shaking slowly. “Tradition says he can not challenge you again.”

“As it says, then it shall be!”

“Ukususela nini, intomba (Since when, daughter)?”

Your silence failed to satisfy him. 

“Tradition says that when your mother and I had you, we were to conceive again, for a son, an heir.”

You didn’t want to hear him.

“Tradition says that when I died, you were to marry a man, and he was to be king.”

You didn’t want to listen.

“Tradition says that he- your husband- was to be the Black Panther.”

He knelt in front of you, grasping your hands in his own and squeezing tight. His hold on you caught you both off guard; neither of you could have fathomed a second chance at a moment like this. 

“You have broken tradition since you came out of the womb, y/n, my girl. And I am so proud of you for it. Wakanda needed to progress, and you-” His hand released yours, gently holding your cheek instead. “You are exactly what this country needs.”

Tears fall down your cheeks at your father’s hold. You embraced it, knowing that after this, you’d never feel it again. “Am I truly meant to be King, baba?”

“Have I not raised you so?”

Your bottom lip curled back into your mouth and your head nodded ever so slightly. “But heed my warning, my girl. Zakar will not take lightly being bested in front of the country, especially not by a woman. Especially not by my daughter.”

Your brows pulled together into a focused furrow. “I’ll be careful.”

His lips press to your forehead gently. “I know you will do wonderful things. You were born to do wonderful things.”

He stood and began to retreat. You panicked when his hand left yours, not ready to say goodbye again. “W-wait, Baba. Don’t go-”

“Eh? Y/n, what have I taught you?”

“Y-you said you’d never leave me, but-”

“And have I?”

Your hands outstretched to beckon the unfamiliar world around you. “What would you call this, Baba?”

His steps grew closer to you and his fingers lightly pierced your chest. “I have not left you. I am here.” His hands moved to your temple. “And here.” They moved once more to cup your face. “And here. You look just like me, you know.”

“Now go. Rule your kingdom.”

“Baba,” You hated the way your voice sounded, so whiny and helpless. “Ndiyakuthandana (I love you).”

He was fading away fast and you could feel yourself being pulled back to reality. His words were so faint, you thought you’d imagined hearing it. “Ndiyakuthandana, my girl.”

Zuri’s face was filled with worry when you shot up from beneath the sand, gasping in the dusty air that surrounded you. “Are you alright?”

You accepted the hand he was offering you, using it to stand. “Never bury me alive again.”

Night fall crept on the Wakandan horizon and Ramonda’s usually still mind was flooding with unease. The hem of her skirt swept the palace floors as she wandered aimlessly. 

It was such a large space for just the two of you and without you there, it was so quiet. Dora stood at every outbound door and while they shared her polite smiles, they didn’t speak. 

It had been hours since Zuri swept you away for the ancestral planes and while Ramonda was uncertain how long the private ceremony would take, something didn’t feel right about the seven hours you’d been gone. 

She was an hour into her mindless stroll down the same halls of the royal residence before it was abruptly interrupted. 

“My Queen, are you alright?”

Had they not spoken, Ramonda would have run them over. She blinked slowly, taking in the figure before her. She hated to admit she recognized neither the face nor the voice, yet she did recognize the armor; red and gold with beautiful neckplates and shoulder pads to match.

“General- I apologize, I didn’t see you there-” Her words are steady through the nerves that shake her being. 

“It’s alright. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you alright, your Majesty?”

Hesitation almost silenced the Queen. How would it appear that she be so disheveled and muddled?

But she needed help. There were many royal customs that were foreign to her and she had no way to navigate them. 

“General, has my wife returned from the ancestral planes yet?”

The worry Ramonda tried so hard to shove down resurfaced when the General’s face contorted to a look of confusion. “She left the planes hours ago. She was making her way back toward the palace last I saw of her.”

Ramonda’s legs almost gave out underneath her, but the composure she held was truly that of a Queen. “S-she left-”

“Has she not returned, your Majesty?”

Ramonda’s head just swayed back and forth.

The General was quick to turn on her heel with a brisk walk that the Queen struggled to keep up with.

“Qokelela (Gather)!” 

A sea of red poured into the halls, all heading toward the throne room. Dora Milaje, all with their spears drawn and their steps nimble. They were surprised to see the white crown among the swarm of bobbing bald heads. 

The throne room scarcely seemed large enough for the bodies that rapidly filled it. In the forefront stood the General and their Queen, heads held high through the dread that sank to the pit of their stomachs like cement. 

The Dora General was silent, awaiting Ramond’s orders. All eyes were on her and it was a feeling she was unsure she’d ever get used to. 

A deep breath steadied the rapid drumming of her heartbeat. Control yourself.

“General, around what time did you see my wife returning home?”

“1300 hours, your Majesty.”

“It’s going on 2200 hours now, ladies. I’m hoping this is just an overreaction, but really, I’m not sure. Go to the grounds, the tribes, the herbal garden, search even the castle. Bring my King home, please.” Walk with grace.

With a harsh tap of their spears on the stone floor, the room empties just as quickly as it filled. Only the General and the Queen remain and Ramonda feels the deep breath she was holding finally release. 

“Your Majesty-”

Many coily curls frame the young royal’s face and they bounce when her head shaked to and fro. “I will have to grow used to being called that as well, hm?”

“I believe so.”

“You won’t just call me Ramonda if I asked you to, will you?”

The smile that plays on the General’s face is sympathetic and she can see the idea form in the Queen’s mind before she even says it. 

“General, I am just Ramonda. Call me Ramonda.”

Pearly white teeth shine behind her dark smile. “Queen Ramonda, I am Esi. Call me Esi.”

“Esi, are you the first friend I have made here?”

“If so, then I am honored to be.” With a bow of her head, she begins to walk off, but not before Ramonda calls her back.

“Esi, bring me Zuri, please. And keep me updated. Once I have finished speaking with him, I will be joining you and your army in the search.”

“We’ve got the search covered-”

“I have no doubt that you do. However, I will be joining you regardless. I’m bringing my wife home.”

Zuri hadn’t expected to be awoken in the dead of the night, nor was he expecting the Queen of Wakanda to be awaiting his arrival.

“Your Majesty,” both of her hands fit in his like a glove and his tight squeeze is full of compassion. “What is the matter?”

Ramonda doesn't appear to be a spouse in distress. Every feeling of fear, or doubt or dread was unreadable on her features. “Zuri, my friend. Where is my wife?”

“Y/n? Is she not here?”

“She is not. She never returned from the herbal gardens-”

The older gentleman’s head shakes in disbelief. “She did. She had to have returned; where else could she be?”

“That is what I am trying to find out.”

A beat of silence passes between the two, unspoken thoughts swarming their minds. 

“Zuri-” The Queen hesitates, knowing that what she is about to ask is such a personal question. “Do you know who she saw? When she went to the ancestral planes?”

His nod is slow and sad. He can never hide how much he misses his old friend and Ramonda knows the answer before he even speaks it. “Baba?”

“Azzuri, yes.”

“Was it- Did she say anything about it? Did anything happen that would cause her to run away for any reason?”

“Not that she mentioned. You know how that girl was with her father; I can not foresee it having been a bad encounter.”

Ramonda is silent. It was a stretch that you would have willingly not return to her, but your genius Queen had to dot all her I’s and cross all her T’s.

“She did repeat something he told her-”

Ramonda was all ears, focused in on every word Zuri spoke. “What did she say?”

“He told her to watch her back. That Zakar wouldn’t take too lightly to having been defeated by her.”

An insincere chuckle left Ramonda’s lips. It was an ugly sound as anger flooded her body. The corner of her lips curled into a grisly pucker and Zuri scanned her face, interpreting her reaction.

“You suspected Zakar, didn’t you?”

“I did, however, as Queen, I can not go throwing around false accusations.”

“Is it a false accusation if you know it to be true?”

A sad smile looks so out of place on Ramonda’s mouth. 

“Zuri, you know how this works even better than I. I have no proof to accuse Zakar and I can not start a civil war with the Jabari that she will have to clean up when she returns.”

“If she stays in the hands of Zakar, that when will become an if.”

The cloak covering the Queen’s shoulders floats to the floor with a slight shrug. The crown atop her head is removed and underneath, her bountiful curls are braided tightly against her scalp. She’s stood aside long enough, talked long enough. Thoughts of bringing you home were all that played through her mind and the mountainside home of the Jabari tribe was her destination.

“I will not let that when become an if, old friend.”

Handle your shit.

She’d never stepped foot in the land of the Jabari before and was illprepared for the snow that coated the ground and the below zero temperatures. She realized it foolish to have come alone, and had she been in her right headspace, she would have realized it sooner. 

Eyes of the Jabari watched her from every direction and the entrance to a cave drew closer and closer. It was guarded well, by bulky men whose faces were concealed by gorilla masks. The opening of the cavern was blocked off as she approached.

“I need to see Zakar.” Though her body shivered from the cold temperatures, her voice remained steady and firm. The men didn’t budge. 

“Zakar is not taking any visitors. He is healing.”

Had smoke been able to come out of her ears in a cartoonish fashion, Ramonda was sure it would have. Her composure did not sway, nor did her expression change. “I need to see Zakar.”

One of the men bent to the Queen’s height, meeting her eye-to-eye. Her knees didn’t buckle and her gaze didn’t dare look away. “What did I just tell you?”

Ramonda’s set to respond, hell, she’s set to exile the whole damn tribe. A faceless voice breaks the tension between the two; the voice she’s there to see. 

“Let her in.”

It would have been a childish thing had she stuck her tongue out at the bruly warrior as he stepped aside to let her in, so she refrained. Instead, she walked through the wall of broad men, straight to the wide throne that held their awful leader. 

His thick brows were deep set on his eyes, weighing heavy on his face and his left arm and midsection sported a collection of white bandages. 

He didn’t look thrilled to see her and she mirrored the feeling. “My Queen,” 

How disgusting it sounded coming from his mouth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Your calculating Queen stood silent for a moment, scanning the room around her. It was cold, so fucking cold, with icy stares to match. Every corner held a warrior, equipt with armor and weapons. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was the norm or if it was only due to her company.

“Zakar-” She hated how his name tasted, rolling across her tongue. “I think thanks are in order.”

“For what?”

“For giving us quite the eventful day. My wife couldn’t just take the throne that was rightfully hers and go about her way, hm? You had to step in and give us a challenge.”

“You are thanking me for getting my ass beat in front of the entire kingdom? And by a princess?”

Ramonda’s jaw was hardset and it took every ounce of control within her body to respond respectfully. “King. Your King.”

When Zakar stood, Ramonda couldn’t help the slight intimidation she felt at the way he towered over her. Her body took a step back without her permission and she cursed herself for it. 

“My king would have balls, your majesty-”

“It is common to want in a leader what we cannot have ourselves-”

Zakar laughed at her rebuttal and it angered the Queen. He continued as though she hadn’t even spoken. “You see me as the villain in your little happily ever after, but that is not the case. It is the other way around, honestly. You and your wife come in and shake up tradition, age old tradition. Excuse me for trying to put things back the way they should be.”

“Who is to say that is the right way and my way is wrong?”

Hmm, Zakar’s deep voice rumbles the entire cave. “Why have you come here, your Majesty?”

“I have reason to believe you have something that belongs to me.”

“Are you accusing me of thievery?” At his words, the Jabari soldiers in the room draw their weapons across their chests, armed and ready.

Your wife is quiet, choosing her next words carefully. Before she can get them off her tongue, Zakar speaks once more. “Let’s say I do have something of yours; I suggest you act tactically. You want this thing back in the same condition that I received it, do you not?”

That’s all she needed. That was enough proof, hell, it was a whole fucking confession. 

Ramonda stepped toward the gorilla-like man, not caring of the weapons that were pointed at her. 

“Unlike my wife, Zakar, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

Her words were so low, the brutish man barely even caught them. His eyes were dark and angry when the Queen pulled away and began to retreat further into the snow, toward the cave entrance once more. 

“Leaving so soon, your Majesty?”

Ramonda’s middle finger was pointed to the sky, directed straight to the Jabari leader as her back stayed turned to him.

“Ramonda!”

The sound of her name bouncing off the stone palace walls caught her off guard. She hadn’t heard it be called in such a way since childhood. 

Her entire body swiveled to see Esi running straight toward her, anger dancing across her features.

“You’ve finally referred to me by my name-”

“You went to the Jabari tribe, alone?”

Ramonda winced at the General’s tone of voice. Her scolding was loud enough for outside listeners to pick up. “I did-”

“What were you thinking? They could have killed you-”

“They have her, Esi.”

Esi’s sigh was annoyed, her eye roll expectant. “Yes, your Majesty, we know that.”

The Queen didn’t have time to focus on the formal terms she and the General seemed to be back on. “You know?”

“We know. We have dozens of Dora surrounding their borders as we speak. We’re trying to find an in without jeapordizing her safety. We still do not know where in the land they are keeping her, though we assume its close to Zakar so that he may keep tabs-”

“Let me take lead on this-”

It would not have been possible for Esi to control the surprise that overtook her at the Queen’s declaration. “Let you what? No! Absolutely not-”

“She’s my wife, Esi-”

“And she is our King-”

“She’s my wife! Damned with your king, she is my wife, and I need her home.”

Ramonda was becoming emotional. The day’s events were catching up with her, as was the reality that you were laying cold somewhere in his midst, hurt or worse.

“Ramonda,” Esi’s voice was soft, her gentle hands grazing the Queen’s forearms. “We are trained for this; willing to die for this. We can not let you-”

“Esi, I hope you can still consider us friends after this.”

“After what-?”

“I am stripping you of your title as General. Step down. That is a direct order-”

“Ramonda-!”

“I am appointing myself General and-”

Tears swam behind Esi’s lids. “Your Majesty-”

Ramonda grabbed Esi’s hands and held them. She needed a deep breath to continue, fighting back tears of her own. “I will reinstate you, my friend. I am sorry, but I-” Her voice broke, and with the grace of a true Queen, she continued. “I must bring my wife home.”

The Dora Milaje stood in salute, awaiting instructions from their new General. Ramonda stood before them, silent with Esi on her right, face set hard with an emotion impossible to read. 

“The Jabari have Y/n.” This wasn’t new information to anyone in the room; they didn’t stir. Ramonda continued.

“We’re bringing her home, by any means necessary. We have suspicions she is being kept either in or just outside Zakar’s throne room. It is a cave covered in snow and ice and flooded with Jabari warriors who are just as willing to die for this as we are.”

Her eyes searched through the crowd. Staring back at her were various hues of brown, all armed, all ready. 

“We’ve already got the border surrounded; they know we’re coming and what we’re coming for. Get her out, alive.” The stress she put on that last word didn’t do justice for how much she meant it. Alive was the only option.

“Get me as close to Zakar as you can. I do not care if he gets out of this alive or dead; I will distract the ape man while you locate and retrieve the king. Understood?”

“My Queen,” Esi’s voice is quiet and still holds the authority it did before her title was stripped from her. “Aren’t we to get you out alive as well?”

The words were hard to get out, but Ramonda knew she meant them. “Get her out, alive,” she repeated. “If the King has been located and retrieved, then retreat.”

“Your Majesty-”

Ramonda’s clenched teeth were bared, displaying the force it took for her to echo herself. “Retreat.”

Nobody dared question her again and with a quick nod and cross of her arms, the Queen was satisfied. “Masihambe (Let’s go).”

It seemed as though the mountainside had grown colder since Ramonda was last there just hours ago. The Dora Milaje marched in step behind her, Esi at her side. The cave entrance was just before them, and it was blocked off completely. Jabari men and women stood, shutting off the cavern to the outside world and they didn’t budge when Ramonda approached. 

Nobody spoke, not a single word uttered. Their curved staff mirrored that of their leaders and they seemed angsty, ready for a good fight. 

“Shukuma (Move).” Ramonda’s voice was loud and declarative and still, they stayed. 

A voice even louder boomed over the brigade of bodies. “Let the woman through.”

Zakar’s men move at his command, but not before one of them tries to be ballsy. His staff swings for Ramonda’s head, just missing clipping her scalp before his weapon falls to the ground with a clank. The Queen turns just in time to see the spear of a young Dora fly through his thigh.

She can’t hold back her gasp when the large body drops to the ground, crying out in pain. Everyone is frozen, awaiting the move of another. The Jabari warriors let the weight of what just happened sit on their shoulders for a moment before preparing to attack. Another readies his staff to swing, preparing to rip the girl’s head straight off her body, but Zakar’s words keep him in place.

“Yibambe simile (Hold off).”

His men recollect themselves, reestablishing their blockage of entry to the cave. 

“Yiza,” His command is directed at Ramonda now, and she continues her trek to his throne. 

“Your Majesty, I was trying very hard to be nice. But you align your army at my borders, push your way into my home, and injur one of my men.” He rises from the wooden seat, staff ready in his uninjured hand. “I do not take very kindly to that.”

Ramonda doesn’t speak. Her eyes are on his movements, his actions. He’s slower to move on his injured side, which makes sense. It’s the side you impaled and he hadn’t allowed himself enough time to heal before starting shit with your kingdom. 

His right side, however, is much stronger; she has to guess it’s his dominant side. And though he may be damaged on the left, he had a room full of people to make up for his handicap. 

Realistically, it’s too many people. She’s unsure if the large army is due to the impending threat looming over everyone present, but it still wouldn’t make sense. They’re all huddled around his throne, not spread about where they could be more useful.

She takes a closer look at the large seat that Zakar refused to leave unattended. It was wide and tall, which wasn’t unusual, because of his size and stature. But why leave a wooden chair guarded?

Your Queen truly was a genius. It didn’t take her long to figure it out and when she did, it took everything she had to remain expressionless. 

“I do not take very kindly to kidnapping, Zakar.”

“There you go, making empty accusations again-”

The spear in Ramonda’s hand is itching to take out the gorilla man’s other shoulder. “I am not willing to play mind games with you, indoda embi (ugly man). Is this really something you wish to do? Cut the Jabari off from Wakandan resources and protection? Risk the greatest country in the world turning against you?”

“What good is the greatest country in the world if it is run by imbecils whom are incapable of-”

“What makes me incapable? What makes my wife incapable?”

The brute man is silenced.

“You and the elders of this country are so focused on what we have between our legs, more so than the minds we have. We have shown you no reason to doubt us, and yet you do because we are women? I thought we were supposed to be more progressive as a nation than that.”

Zakar is flustered, unable to find the right words and vocalize them.

“Tradition states-”

“To hell with tradition!”

“That is your problem, your Majesty-”

“Thula (Be quiet), Zakar.”

Silence once again. Zakar is frozen in place as Ramonda takes timid steps toward him and his throne. 

“To hell with your misogynistic, sexist, homophobic traditions. This is my kingdom now.”

She gets closer, ignoring the staffs drawn and pointing at her from every direction. 

“This is our kingdom now.”

The sharp end of her spear is pointed to the wooden throne. Ramonda has no doubt that the thick wood will give way with a stab or two of her vibranium weapon, but she’s worried. She doesn’t know how far underneath the piece you are and she doesn’t want to risk stabbing you. 

It’s a chance she’s going to have to take.

“This is our kingdom now!”

The first hit cracks the wood and debris fly back at her. The Jabari warriors surrounding the piece prepare themselves to swing at the Queen, but their hesitation is their downfall. The Dora outnumber them by hundreds and it only takes a second for their staffs to be pressed against their windpipes, holding them in place and out of Ramonda’s way. 

“This is our kingdom now, and we shall make new traditions!”

The second swing of the sharp object shatters the wood and splinters take the air. Zakar wasn’t expecting the throne to breakaway. His thick staff coming in contact with your Queen’s thigh release the gut-wrenching sound of bones crunching. 

Just as quick as he was able to get his hands on her, they hit the flood with a disgusting squelch. The bright crimson of his blood shines on the fresh white snow and his scream causes the entire cave to shake on its foundation. 

Where his hands once were are gorey blood and flesh. Esi’s spear is covered in the same blood that spurts from his body. 

You’re curled up in a hole underneath the space where Zakar’s throne once sat. Ramonda’s heart breaks to see you in the fetal position, unconscious and unresponsive. 

Her breath catches in her chest as she watches, waiting for yours to rise and fall. It does, but it’s so slow, that she worries it won’t continue for long.

It’s an agonizing pain, one that travels through her very being, trying to stand on her now broken leg. Her spear is used more as a crutch as she hobbled over to the giant, brought to his knees. 

“W-What did you do to her?”

He doesn’t respond. 

“Answer me, Zakar!”

Silence.

Esi’s still-bloody spear digs into the side of his neck, just enough to draw a fresh cut. “Unless you want your head to roll with your hands, I suggest you answer your Queen.”

His voice is strained when it finally speaks. “I did nothi-”

“Lies! She is lying here, unconscious! What did you do?” Esi’s anger mirrors Ramonda’s.

She turns back to your body, lying so still and quiet and the hole full of ice that you lay in. Her calculating mind goes to work once more. “Wait, Esi. Zakar, did she take the heart-shaped herb before you took her?”

“Took sounds so harsh-”

Esi’s spear presses deeper, drawing a steady flow of blood, causing the big man to change his words. “Y-yes, she had already taken it.”

“So she already had the powers of the Black Panther?”

“Yes.”

Ramonda nods, a sigh of relief escaping her. “She’s in hibernation.”

“Hibernation? Your Majesty, you’re telling me that if our protector experienced too-cold temperatures, then she’s down for the count?”

“No, Esi, not usually, but she’s been buried in a box full of ice.”

“Is she okay?”

“She will be,” Ramonda’s head points to you, her beloved, still curled into yourself. “Yiza,” she commands. 

While your army come and retrieve you from your frozen slumber, Ramonda hops over to a still-kneeling Zakar. She drops until they’re face-to-face, thankful to relieve some of the pain radiating through her leg. 

“I should have had them kill you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Ramonda is hushed. Why doesn’t she? He shattered her leg, took you prisoner-

“I don’t know, to be honest.”

Zakar’s eyes are filled with surprise as he drags them upward to gaze at the Queen sitting before him. He’s even more surprised to see hers full of empathy. 

“Come back to the palace with us. We have a lab, filled with doctors who can fix you and your injured men-”

“Why should I accept your help?”

“What other choice do you have?”

The sound of your voice is truly melodious to Ramonda. Her head spins and if her leg weren’t shattered, she would have run right to you. 

Your words were shaky as your body tried to regulate its temperatures. Dora surrounded you, wrapping you in the garments of their winter wear and as you stood on unsteady legs, they moved with you, every step. 

“You ought to be thankful of my wife, for showing you mercy. Had it been the other way around, I would have let Esi behead you.”

Her snicker could be heard from her place behind the Jabari leader. Ramonda’s eyes were on you and they refused to leave, too afraid you’d leave her presence again. 

“If you do not accept her offer to be patched up, you’ll surely bleed out here, will you not?”

He didn’t respond and you bent beside your Queen, lowering yourself to his level.

“Zakar, as beautiful as this red looks, contrasting with the white snow, I believe it best you accept.”

Silence.

“Well, unlucky for you, to have a stubborn King. Aye,” You called out to your army, awaiting their attention. “Mthathe (Take him), and his injured men too. Esi, notify the lab that we’re on our way.”

Ramonda was all too grateful when you scooped her into your arms, bridal style. Her arms fell into place wrapped around your neck and you held her close, tight, too afraid to let her go. 

“My Queen,” you greeted softly, rubbing the tip of your nose to hers. 

“My love,” the tears she’d been holding back for far too long finally spilled over and her hands moved to cup your face, pulling you close. 

“I see you handled your shit, sithandwa.”

Ramonda’s chuckle was full of relief and my god, it was such a beautiful sound to hear. 

“Yes, my love. I handled my shit.”

[jeongyeonluvr]

respect

cg!Nayeon middle!Mina

CW: temper tantrum, (mentioned) nightmares

“Excuse me, young lady,” Nayeon sighed, sending daggers in Mina’s direction.

“Excuse me, young lady,” Mina mocked in return, shaking her head.

“Mina!” Nayeon scolded. If there was one thing in the world she hated, it was being mocked.

“Yes, Nayeon?” Mina smirked, looking towards the older woman. They were in the kitchen trying to finish Mina’s math homework.

Jeongyeon would’ve helped but she got called into the fire station so dropped Tzuyu and Jihyo off quickly.

However, Mina was clearly not in the mood for it.

“You’re on your last warning, little girl,” Nayeon warned, pointing a finger at Mina. Mina rolled her eyes before moving her left leg on the chair to rest her head.

“Yeah yeah, pretty sure I was on my last warning hours ago,” she mumbled, pulling her phone from her pocket. 

At that, Sana came in, walked around the table and snatched the phone from Mina’s hand. Mina gasped eyes going comically wide and reached for it.

“Sit down and show some respect,” Sana hissed, done with Mina’s attitude.

“I am! That’s my phone you can’t take it!” Mina cried out, jumping up and down to try and reach the outstretched phone.

“You can have it back when you stop being a brat,” Sana said matter-of-factly. She turned and walked from the room to the basement and Mina went to charge after her but Momo stood between the brunette and the door.

“Momo move!” Mina screeched, squeezing her eyes shut, moving her hands into fists, visibly shaking and making her voice as loud as it could.

“No can do pretty girl, sit down,” she said, shaking her head. Mina huffed, stomped her foot, and glared at everyone in the room before throwing herself on the ground like a toddler. 

“Mina,” Nayeon sighed, watching her girl begin to cry. Mina had been stressed out all day and Nayeon seriously debated even doing the homework with her but relized the homework was left to the night before so it had to be done.

Mina continued her fit on the floor, kicking about her legs and her arms but the family learned to ignore it. Jihyo continued her picture book about ladybugs and Tzuyu continued playing animal crossing on the switch.

However, Nayeon couldn’t help but feel like something was seriously wrong with her baby. 

~~

Nayeon was sat with Tzuyu in her lap, fixing her hair into a braid for bed still waiting for Jeongyeon to come back - looks like a sleepover night again.

Mina started to feel more calm, deciding to do her skin care, put on a vinyl, get a cold glass of water and brush her teeth.

There was still so much going on through her brain that she just wanted to sleep it all away.

Her nightmares had come back recently, becoming more frequent. Mina waking up sad, not scared or stressed just… sad. The nightmare presented memories of the past, soaked in a shape of love she can't feel anymore.

“Do you want to talk?” Nayeon asked, leaning lightly on the door frame of Mina’s room, the girl lightly shook her head. Mina didn’t feel like she had the energy. Nayeon hummed walking to the foot of her bed.

“Bedtime, huh?” Nayeon gave a soft smile, rubbing soothing circles on Mina’s right leg. Mina shrugged and closed her eyes. Nayeon sighed and leaned over to stroked the girl's tight fist before moving a stray bit of hair out her face. 

“I’ll talk to your teacher tomorrow honey,” Nayeon whispered leaning in to give Mina a kiss to the four head, “Good night, I love you.”

Mina let out a long breath, closing her eyes tight and listen to the music softly playing in the background, “I love you too mama.”

[crossedsabers10s]

what’s the latest wip in saberland??

uhhhhhh a bunch of bouncing back and forth between things rn. There's one fic i've been poking at that is ACoTaR and is more world building than anything, but the vague timeline is making me want to rip out my computer keys so rn it's mostly just vibes. Haven't quite decided on a title for that one but it's under fierce spear-bearer (loyal hearth-guard) for now. I'm tryingggg to get some more rumor has it stuff done, mostly pre-canon background, but it's in pieces that are slowly being put together. And I really need to rewatch S3 of TVD bc im tired of opening my wip doc for Apathy and just... being like I have IDEAS but no idea how to get em down. or connect them to the stuff I do have written. Then there's the. Half dozen mini fics I have half-written and cluttering up my drive. Plus like. I really want to get some Missed Me stuff done but everytime I sit down to do it the words flee from me.

Excerpts, if anyone wants 'em:

A Court of Thorns and Roses:

fierce spear-bearer (loyal hearth-guard)

“Argos,” Eris says seriously, dragging a finger across the pages of the thick tome he has open. He’s sitting at a desk, feet dangling from the tall backed chair. 

They are ensconced in a reading nook in the library, that place of oaken bookshelves that tower like the trees they’d once been, filled with tomes older than they. It is no Day Court’s Great Library, to be sure, but Autumn is old, and its lord is no slouch at gathering knowledge. 

“Pumpkin,” Erin suggests. She’s sitting on the plush carpet of the library floor, right at the edge where carpet meets the flagstone in front of the fireplace. Nestled amongst the ashes of the fireplace, nearly blending in, is a small gray pup curled into a crescent shape on its back, paws in the air and snoring with little puppy breaths. 

Eris doesn’t spare her so much a look. “Demios.”

“Applesauce.”

“Cú.”

Erin pauses from where she’d been flicking stray ashes. The pup’s paw twitches. “You’re going to get in trouble with Priestess Mara if you use that one.” 

Legendary names from the Continent are one thing. Legends closer to home another entirely. 

Eris waves a hand in a passable imitation of their father’s gesture of dismissal. It has a range of meanings from more ale all the way to to the dungeons with you. “Priestess Mara should be reminded that the temple doesn’t rule, Vanserras do. The old stories are not banned.”

“Yet,” Erin supplies knowingly, having overheard gossip suggesting that the lord of Rocky Shore is throwing his vote behind the latest attempt to ban every mention of the gods and heroes that don’t quite align with worshiping the Mother. Or, rather, the ones that don’t worship her in her aspect of the Mother. 

It’s not a popular stance, not in Autumn, but it has been gaining momentum in the past half century. Especially as tensions between the humans and fae rise. 

“Yet isn’t now.” But Eris obviously reconsiders using a name that may indicate taking one side over the other. Heir to Autumn that he is, even too young to sit on Council, either side would love to have his ear. 

Erin, who loves the old stories and has spent at least a few years worth of time in this very library reading them, frowns before running a finger through the ashes on the flagstone. “Cider.”

Eris’ sigh sounds exactly like their mother’s. The way he carefully closes the tome is similar as well. “Is this you trying to tell me you’re ready for lunch?”

She sprawls to the side, eyes still on the snoozing pup. “Syrup.” 

Finally deigning to weigh in, the pup snorts itself awake, blinking blearily at its surroundings. When it spots the faerie sitting on the rug, it scrambles to its oversized paws and launches itself into her lap. Skirts covered in ashy paw prints and the sounds of delighted giggling mixed with equally delighted yipping fill the otherwise quiet space. Erin begins to enthusiastically pet the little pup. Eris abandons his book to join them on the floor, doing his best to restore some order to the situation, even as he starts giggling just like his twin. 

“I think Syrup and I will be good friends,” Erin decides, face smudged with ash. 

Done with its self-imposed job of licking the two fae youth’s faces, the pup shakes, form briefly flickering around the edges, pearly gray fur blurring and shifting into wisps before settling back into solid shape.  

“That is a smoke hound, fearsome companions and ruthless hunters, they are not friends—!“ Eris tries to rub a smear of ash off his face with a sleeve, but only succeeds in further dirtying both. “We are not calling him Syrup!”

“Syrup!” Erin croons. “Sweet boy, you’ll be the fiercest hound in the kennel!”

fierce spear-bearer (loyal hearth-guard)

Her brother, light where she is dark, dark where she is light, they are less mirror images and more complimentary ones. She has their father’s coloring, he their mother’s. As a child, she’d desperately wanted her mother’s auburn instead of the brown she’d inherited. She’d grown out of that eventually, though there are still days she’d wish the reflection in her mirror was less stern-faced familiar. 

She’s her father’s eyes, she’s been told time and time again. She hates it more with every telling. 

“Was it impressive as they say?”

“Tamlin ripped her to shreds,” Eris says, satisfaction in the curl of his lips. 

“Good,” Erin says, just as much savagery underneath her own polite mask. Unlike their appearance, they match there, always. She sends her twin a sideways look. “But no. The girl. Spring’s human champion. She faced a Midgard Wyrm. So I heard.” She’d heard more than that, but that is one event that stands out. Less so, perhaps, than their littlest brother nearly dying twice over, and less so than Amarantha’s death, but it had been no small feat. 

Wyrms had been native to Hybern, but had been brought over from the smaller island more than once. There’s a few that pop up throughout Prythian’s history, some more famed than others; Coward’s Bane comes to mind, a legendarily giant Wyrm that had carved tunnels three body lengths wide into a rocky area of the Middle. They called it Coward’s Bane because if you’d walked over top of its rocky home, you lived. If you broke and ran, it sensed you and burst from the ground to swallow you whole. 

Amarantha, forever coming up with ways to make people’s lives worse, had bred them, set them loose into unprepared, unprotected Courts. 

The juveniles were less dangerous than the adults, but worse in different ways. Small as the young offspring could be—no bigger than any mundane earthworm—they were difficult to track. Easier to kill, but hard to find. Easier, but not easy. They’d lost a patrol or two to a nest. Once. Or twice. Maybe twice, because one had disappeared in the same area a month prior, but there had been no remains of the first when they’d excavated the nest. 

“She was covered in mud and shit. Broken, bleeding, and full of human-weakness.” His sneer drops. Very quietly, lips scarcely moving, “Yes.”

She nods, then drops the subject. 

But Eris keeps at it. “Prythian’s Savior is held in high esteem across the lands, higher still in two Courts. How interesting she’s remained cloistered in Spring. Not a Court would dare turn her away.” He snorts softly. “Or not. Tamlin no doubt wishes his new-Made lover protected instead of leveraging that debt.”

“Two?” Spring is obvious….

“Night.”

Erin takes a sip of her drink. The wine is a good one, unearthed from some lord or another’s stores. A deep red, it is too thin to be blood. For all that it suddenly tastes of it. Copper overpowers its previous floral notes. “Night? I have heard….” 

She lets the sentence trail off, letting her lips twist just slightly to display the displeasure at what she’d weaseled out of those who’d returned from Under the Mountain.

“He dressed her in war-paint.” Eris lifts his glass to his lips, but doesn’t drink. “Night after night, the kinds of scraps you’d expect from noble patronized whore houses and Illyrian war-paint.”

She does not ask him if he is sure. They once had cause to research Night’s admittedly shrouded culture and customs—even the scant-written, bloody history of Illyria. Eris had never gotten his star-hewn bride, but those days are not so distant that the hastily inked figures depicted have been forgotten. The drawings had been rushed, for certain. Detail and accuracy abandoned for speed and feeling, as though the artist was recreating a scene from terror-tinged memory. But the black ink stretched into wide, strong wings—the sprawling swirls and runes across bare skin, the sketched sword point as sharp and hungry on page as it must have been in truth…. 

It had evoked the same beauty a forest fire does. Destructive. Terrible. Awe-inspiring. Erin has never seen an Illyrian war band on wing—during the last war with Hybern, she’d remained in Autumn’s borders instead of following her High Lord into battle as Eris did, as a last line of defense—but they are compared to storms more than once, in the older manuscripts. Sudden and fierce, striking quick and devastating before disappearing just as swiftly as they came. 

Summer storm, silent death,

the battle-born, the blood-drinkers. 

Carrion crows follow wing-ed kin. 

He gave her the only armor he could, she does not suggest. Instead, she snorts softly. “Heh. Whore paint.”

Eris is too court trained to groan. Just as she is too court trained to grin. “The lowest form of humor.”

“Just high enough for you to grasp, then, brother.”

TVD:

rumor has it 'verse

“—starts going left, which was the exact opposite way the man had needed to turn. He always did have a knack for doing exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time. Bloody good at poker, though, honestly, I think he’d the devil’s own luck. Better than mine, for sure. Better than your’s too, eh? Maggie says I’d been cursed at birth, or that I must’ve played dominos in a mirror shop as a child—worst luck she’s ever seen, she says. Which is why she picks the lottery numbers and I get stuck driving down snow covered roads at three in the bloody morning searching for daft fuckers who can’t tell left from—��

“Do you ever shut up?”

Enzo shuts up. 

The voice had been raspy. Words slurred, as though the mouth that formed them was unused to it. There had been a pause between shut and up, as if the sentence was nearly too long to complete. 

Silence takes the cell for a single moment, before—

“No,” he says, unable to iron out all the amusement. First time his cellmate’s made a noise other than groans or snarls and it’s to tell him to shut up? Maggie’d laugh her ass off. Hell, she still might, when he sees her again and tells her. 

After he gets out of here. 

It’s been nearly a week already and he hasn’t seen so much a ray of sunlight for just as long. 

If he’s taken to trying to distract himself from the walls closing in, then, well. Until now, no one had made a complaint. 

Apathy is Wound to the Soul

Yes, Finn is covered in mud and pine straw and a more general kind of forest floor litter. 

No, they will not be taking questions. 

Especially not about them having lost a fight with a tree. 

“Have you two been burying each other again?” Rebekah asks, somehow flippant and genuinely curious all out once, overlaid with some annoyed patina of exasperation. 

Finn will be taking one question. Finn will be asking questions. “No?”

Why is this a conclusion she’s come to. Why is Kol smirking? Did she say again?

til morning comes

Handsome, one part notices, even as instinct whispers: a problem. 

His eyes are too sharp, even if he’s trying to appear casual, taking in them and the room in a way that she recognizes. How far from the door? From the window? Who in this room is an enemy? Who isn’t? Who will be able to be pushed one way or another with the right words?

Katherine says nothing to give away what she sees. Just arranges her face into surprise, muddling it with caution. If he’s a stranger, then it’s justified. Even if not, Stefan is tense beside her.  And she’d just been caught kissing Elena’s ex. Shock and dismay are appropriate reactions. She doesn’t know this man. But Elena might’ve. In this moment, she needs context clues, some kind of lead to follow. 

“Oh, good,” the man says, smiling closed-mouthed. British accent. “This is the right room.”

“Enzo?” Stefan says, sounding stunned. 

Enzo? Damon’s ex-cell mate Enzo? Finally able to put a face to the name in Elena’s diary, Katherine keeps the surprised expression on her face as she studies the ex-science project. 

“Do you know another?” Enzo asks him, seemingly interested. 

There’s a noise from down and hall. Nearly too quickly for Katherine to track in Elena’s pathetic baby-vampire body, Enzo’s head snaps to the side. Without looking back at them, he raises a finger and says, “Hold that thought,” before blurring out of the doorway. 

The door gapes open, frame now empty. 

She meets Stefan’s eyes for half a second, catalogs worry and shock and an unwelcome tinge of shame. 

Annoyance floods through her, even as she is sure to project nothing but a mirror of his emotions, just with a touch of defiance because it’s not her fault that Enzo has the worst timing known to man. 

And what an interruption. Stefan’s not going to kiss her anytime soon now, not with him here. Not when it’s likely Damon isn’t far behind. 

Ugh, and here she thought she’d managed to get rid of him. Guess the clinginess overcame the rejection. 

[multiversxwhore]

Netflix n chill

a/n: Just warning you guys, this is unedited, it's another one of my nonsense one shots. Where here for a good time not a long time type of ordeal. I was just so desperate to create something, and this idea would not leave me once I thought of it. Then I found out that MBJ loves anime so here we are. Enjoy, please reblog, and comment.

Pairing: Michael B Jordan x Black!oc

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

‘Kissin and hoppin they caught us, whether they like it or not, I wanna show you off…’ Doja Cat’s Agora Hills plays in the background. Mike had come over early that morning to spend the day with me. We were supposed to go out, but in the midst of me finishing up getting ready, things took a different turn. “Damn you look good, what’s that Fenty?” He stuck his head through the bathroom threshold, his chocolate eyes held something anamoros within them, and his lips were pulled back in a playful smirk. His dimples pressing into his cheeks adding a youthful flair to him. I turn the upper half of my body to him, in only my bralette and matching panty, his eyes drop to my booty. I grin as the beat drops again, he’s already taking off his denim jacket, and throws it over the door. 

“Hold my hand, you can hit while they watch boy.” I sang along to the words, and rolled my body to the tempo of the music, one arm in the air. I hike my knee up on the bathroom face bowl, and pop my butt back. Mike grabs a handful of me with both hands, he buries his face in the crook of my neck, and inhales my perfume. Butterflies flutter at the pit of my stomach turning into desire, and traveling down right between my thighs. It reminds me of the first time we officially met each other inside the Met. 

“Norielle Woodard! Look at you, you look ethereal. C’mon over here and talk to me.” Cardíerre Taylor-Johnson stood off to the side with a microphone in hand in front of a cameraman, and question cards in hand. Norielle carefully made her way over to her long time friend, and co-star, making sure not to trip in her heels. Seeing her cry for help through her almond shaped eyes, Cardíerre reached out a hand to steady Norielle. The theme that year was ‘All The Stars: Self Expression Through Fashion’ Cardíerre was fitted in a  Thierry Mugler dress. From the breast to waist is a golden plated cast, with pinkish-rose gold chiffon fabric. She looked like a Roman goddess. 

“You look gorgeous as fuck, what the fuck Cardi?” Norielle’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widened in astonishment, and took a step back to get a better look. Cardíerre let out an airy laugh, her smile bright, and her teeth perfect. Before Cardíerre could speak, Norielle’s eye dropped down to Cardíerre’s breast, “Goddamn.” She blurted out, the look on Cardíerre’s face caused Norielle to burst out into laughter. 

“Jesus Nori, my eyes are up here.” The two friends giggled for a moment, it took Nori a few extra minutes to contain her laughter. Cardíerre rolled her eyes as she’s had enough of the goofiness, finally the interview was on its way. They chatted for a moment about the Met, and how amazing it felt for them to be surrounded by so many of their idols. 

“So, we talk about fashion all the time, and how we try to incorporate our personalities into a bit of everything. Tell me what does tonight’s theme ‘All The Stars’ mean to you?” Cardíerre held the mic for Norielle to speak into. It didn’t take her long to think of her answer, “Well, if you think about the stars, and constellations in the sky at night, they all shine differently. Each constellation has a different shape from the other, and tells a different story, with a specific purpose. Ya know, I’m very dramatic, and I’ve been inspired by alternative, gothic like fashion since I was a young girl. So I was blessed enough to have been able to work with Alexander McQueen, and we collaborated on this dark victorianish design. And I just love it so much, with the  florentine neckline to show off my twins, it’s also vegan leather and it’s giving medieval.” Norielle paused to let out a giggle, she took a breath before she carried on, “So that’s what I think we are meant to showcase tonight as stars in our own right. Showing our individuality through fashion, and oh, how everyone looks so stunning. Everyone really brought it this year, and I’m gonna shut up before I start crying.” Norielle pulled a tissue from her small clutch and dramatically damped her eyes. As the interviewer is wrapped up, and the two said their goodbyes Norielle made her way towards the notorious red carpeted staircase that led inside. 

All was going well, she moved up the stairs slowly, or as slowly as was humanly allowed without looking like you were on an acid trip. She stood mid way up the staircase, posing so that her curves were more defined, she gave the photographers as many pictures as she could. Eventually enough was enough. By the time Norielle turned to take another step up she missed a step, and tripped. In an attempt to not fall face first she put her arms out in front of herself, and it did soften the blow. Audible gasps of shock, and worry could be heard all around her, she wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the stairs. Only a few seconds had passed —though it felt like an eternity—when someone’s large hand gently touched my shoulder. Norielle lifts her head to see Micheal B Jordan standing over her with his other hand extending in offering. When their eyes locked something like a static shock sent a wave of rejuvenation through her nervous system. She knew he too felt the same thing, he looked taken aback by their sudden connection. Norielle took his hand, he grasped her firmly, and let her weight lean on him as she pushed herself upwards. 

“I just embarrassed the fuck out of myself.” She whispered with a shaky voice, eyes burning with unshed tears, and a nervous smile on her glossed lips. Still holding onto her hands, he gave them a reassuring squeeze, and held her gaze. “Don’t even focus on that, let’s keep moving up, and then we’ll be inside.” Wordlessly Norielle nodded her head in agreement allowing Micheal to link arms with her as they ascended the stairs. Her heart was pounding so hard it nearly caused her pain, but then his voice began to speak calming words in her ear. In the midst of all the camera clicking, eager photographers fighting for the best shot, and buzzing conversations, they clung to each other the rest of the night. 

When the night wrapped up, Cardíerre and the rest of Norielle’s friends were stealing her away for the evening. She managed to get his phone, and add herself as a contact as ‘Nori.’ When he called her at 5am the next morning they talked for hours, the beginning and of an inseparable relationship. 

I planted glossy kisses all over Mike’s face, pressing my lips to wherever she could. His muscular arms pull me in impossibly closer, my arms wrap around his shoulders. Some would say our relationship is dramatic, but I would call it passionate. “So I take it we’re not going out anymore?” His grip relaxes upon hearing the strain in my voice, his lips graze over the shell of my ear barely kissing it before he pulls back. “Yeah no, I’m not feel it anymore baby.” He apologizes sheepishly, a feeling of relief washes over me because once he came in here with his bullshit I was no longer in the mood to be outside in the public either. That’s just how our relationship went, majority of the time we’re the same person, and I couldn’t be happier about it. 

“Raising Canes?” I offer playfully, a knowing grin growing onto my lips, Mike pulls back, and his own smile mirrors mine. The dimples in his cheeks become more prominent, he dips his head down to kiss both of my breasts, the giggle that came from me turns into full laughter. “You go get changed, I’ll finish getting ready and we’ll just go get food and come home.” I pushed away from him halfheartedly, only after sneaking one last kiss from me did he leave me be. 

On our way to Raising Canes the radio blasted too loudly for either of us to hear how terrible we actually sounded. I turned it down for a moment and turned to him from the passenger side of the car. “So, what do ya wanna watch while we eat?” We pulled into the drive through, as we sat in line, and waited for our turn to order Mike thought hard about it. A smile breaks out onto my face, I can practically see him doing the math in his head. “Hey, I take my tv watching to eating ratio very seriously.” He quips half heartedly, finally after what felt like forever he lets out a breath, “You know what I’m gonna say right?” 

“Naruto?” I guessed without hesitation, now his smile mirrors mine, he leans in closer to me from his side of the car, his lips curl into a smirk. “Me, and you…right here.” He taps his temple with his index finger, and extends his hand for me to dap him up. “Same wavelength baby.” The hand slap turns into the fireball jutsu hand sign from Naruto, Micheal took what felt like hours teaching me that, so best believe we use any opportunity to do it. When it was our turn we ordered our usual combo meal, with extra fries, and sauce, then made our way home. As soon as my feet touched the inside of the house I was already sliding my shoes off, and removing my sweat pants. I got comfortable on the couch as I waited for Micheal to settle next to me, when I turned to see his bare legs I nearly choked on my spit from laughter. “What? I wanna get comfortable too!” I didn't even respond to him, instead I turned my focus to the tv, and turned on Netflix. Relaxing on the sofa, and watching anime, in my underwear was not how we thought the day was going to go. But I’d rather be doing this. Three episodes in, and half eaten take out, We were cuddled up on the couch in the living room with the tv blasting. I had just begun to doze off when I felt Michael hand slip into my underwear, and squeeze my booty. When I look up at him, his eyes move from the tv to me, the lust from earlier had crept its way back in, and I knew he wasn't going to let me sleep till he ate his desert…to be continued

Quick tags: @cardierreh15 @insatiableorsmthn

[agentnico]

Poor Things (2023) review

Yorgos Lanthimos may be the new Quentin Tarantino when it comes to feet fetishes in cinema, as there are so many Emma Stone feet shots in this movie… so many. Also, her little toe is oddly square shaped, just saying.

Plot: An incredible tale and fantastical evolution of Bella Baxter (Emma Stone), a young woman brought back to life by the brilliant and unorthodox scientist Dr. Godwin Baxter (Willem Dafoe). Under Baxter's protection, Bella is eager to learn. Hungry for the worldliness she is lacking, Bella runs off with Duncan Wedderburn (Mark Ruffalo), a slick and debauched lawyer, on a whirlwind adventure across the continents. Free from the prejudices of her times, Bella grows steadfast in her purpose to stand for equality and liberation.

At first I was very much a fan of director Yorgos Lanthimos’ directing style, with him managing to take any event or piece of dialogue and turn it into deadpan awkwardness. As such, his indie films The Lobster and The Killing of a Sacred Deer both are great examples of entertaining postmodern cinema with each one featuring a dystopian visual style. That being said, his last film The Favourite, even though it was a hit with the critics and the award ceremonies, for me did not hit the same. It felt much more reserved compared to the director’s previous efforts, and his usual weird style just came off crude and the humour for me personally did not land. Nicholas Hoult was a hoot though, but when isn’t he! Anyway, going into Poor Things I was hoping for more of the original magic which I’ve seen from Lanthimos in his earlier works, and the trailers with their vibrant visuals really sparked my interest, so I went in with high hopes.

So in terms of the visuals, Poor Things may just feature some of the best and most imaginative sets of any movie of 2023. Starting off the first part in black-and-white, very reminiscent of the old Universal monster flicks, but then 30 minutes in transforming into a technicolour dream world with colours popping Wizard of Oz-style, with every shot reminiscent of a vivid painting, with the use of the fisheye lends to create a somewhat watercolour effect to the backgrounds. The movie looks and feels artificial, which connected well with the narrative of this Frankenstein’s monster type woman learning and discovering everything with a brain that’s both her’s and not. Oh, and she happens to also wear rainbow glasses, so I can only imagine how much more stranger the world must look through her eyes.

The film’s biggest asset is its acting. Emma Stone is phenomenal as she has to play a grown woman with the brain of a baby, and then show us that woman growing into her brain (or maybe show us the baby growing into the woman?) over the course of the film. She really does throw herself into the role and it’s the type of role that awards shows will delightfully seek their teeth into. Willem Dafoe as the maker of Bella felt like a character that walked straight off a David Lynch fantasy, from the prosthetic make-up to his performance as the mad scientist that falls for his creation. But the real stand out here is Mark Ruffalo who simply is on another level. Playing the slimy player who only sees women through the male gaze, and attempts to take advantage of Bella’s naive outlook life for his own physical pleasure, it’s the kind of character you are supposed to despise, but gosh did I love everything Ruffalo was doing in this film. He was truly hilarious with every piece of his line delivery successfully painting the pathetic nature of his foolish character. Most critics will be showering Emma Stone with praise and deservingly so, however I believe Mark Ruffalo should not be overlooked and may be the actual MVP of the whole movie.

Narrative wise this is a fun feminist spin on the Frankenstein formula, that is a loud and proud shout to female autonomy for those who may have found Barbie a bit too cheesy and perky, yet I do find the movie to be overly cynical against its own good. It's like Lanthimos approached the film in the same way the mad scientist played by Willem Dafoe in the movie approaches his medical experiments -- with a cool eye and a lot of curiosity, but very little heart. And for the bubbly and big eyed Bella that is full of life and excitement, the film she’s in is the polar opposite. Look, I admired the film for what it was, but the romantic within me wanted a bit more of the, as the French would say, ‘amour’. Also there was just too much sex for my viewing pleasure. Again, I don’t mind a lil’ hanky-panky in my films, but when I’m sat in a dark theatre surrounded by many perverts with 90% of what I’m watching being humans doing the thrusting and the throbbing, it is a tad uncomfortable. You can also imagine what my fiancée thought when I told her afterward about the movie’s heavily erotic side.

Poor Things is very much a film that screams the director’s unique and distinct style and I truly respect it for that, however I personally feel like its not my cup of tea as it was a bit too cold for my liking. There wasn’t really a character I could connect or sympathise with, and even though Mark Ruffalo is funny as hell, his character is a piece of scum and a half. Again, kudos to the whole production team and cast for a great niche slice of art house cinema, but it’s too creepy for my liking.

Overall score: 7/10

[invinciblerodent]

What is Iona’s relationship with Gale? Does she have any particular thoughts or feelings about him?

Oh, thank you for asking! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

(this is kind of a misleading shot lol, but I don't have many of the two of them)

The TL; DR of it would be that by the endgame they're quite close friends (he more or less takes over her role as "leader" once she and Astarion disappear after the Brain's defeat), but I think there are always going to be at least a few things on which they don't quite see eye to eye- they're very different people, with very different approaches to magic, ambition, love, and life in general.

I haven't unpicked all the threads there yet, but I know the key point of connection and clash between them would both be magic, as it often is for wizards and sorcerers.

Iona is very new to actually using her gift of it (and comes from a background that not only didn't let her hone it, but actively forced her to try and ignore it for decades), she isn't familiar with its particulars, its ins and outs- but due to her inborn connection to the Weave, to her draconic blood, not only do her talents develop in leaps and bounds once she accesses them (to the level they should be at at her age, and then they plateau), she also feels it in a way far different from the way Gale describes it.

Wizardry is a symphony, a melody, strings to pluck in order or a sculpture to shape with careful touch, but sorcery... is something far more intrinsic, more visceral than that. It's blood, it's power, it's a living thing that thrums within her body and beats against her ribs like a heart twin to her own, yearning to be used. It's not a part of her like the Orb, or Karlach's engine- it's rather as much a part of her as Gale's ambition, or Astarion's hunger (which is an early conversation I have them having, lol). A sorcerer is not something she does, but something she is.

I think early on, he looks at her like any academic would at a savant (she's crude, yet talented- powerful but in need of shaping), while she looks at him like a fish would at a diver (a guest who belongs, but a guest nonetheless in an environment that is native to her).

Anyway, that difference in understanding kind of causes a bit of friendly tension early on, but that's sort of just an undercurrent to the understanding and respect that is otherwise present between them. (She values his knowledge, he admires her raw power, they help each other out, it's cool lol.)

Long story short I think they pretty much only figure each other out in his Last Night Alive scene- until then, she didn't quite see all that fear in him, while he maybe didn't quite see her wisdom. And sure, it's not like either of them was going out of their way to show it, but that scene is where the masks finally get put down.

I don't recall the exact lines I gave her to say in that scene (or where I wrote them lol), but it was something like "It's easy enough to forget sometimes just how young you are, Gale. I may not have the perspective of centuries in this life yet, but to experience eternity is the boon and burden of us fey folk. The lives of humans... They're already barely a flash in the pan, a plume of smoke. Don't be so eager to throw away something so fragile, yet so precious."

........... Anyway, they then proceed to have a lengthy, and uncomfortably deep conversation about life, death, and religion, and that sort of alters their relationship from a covert, yet friendly almost-rivalry, to a genuine friendship.

in another life, they could have been a very annoying couple who like, get divorced around five years in due to their irreconcilable differences. her kind of broken doesn't jive with his kind of broken, lol.

[winthorntales]

Femslash Friday: Couples That Never Were But Should Have Been Vol. 3

It's no surprise to me that Jemma and Daisy/Skye is already a known ship (maybe even popular as far as non-canons go.) So I don’t think I need to discuss how much these two, aesthetically alone, just make sense. 

But I do want to point out that the canon for AoS being what is when it comes to Jemma/Fitz, this FSF post will first focus on one character, who should have at least been a WLW (woman-lovin’ woman a.k.a. sapphic-inclined - pick any orientation label you’d like for that.)

Daisy shoulda been into chicks, y’all. If not to be with Jemma, then to be with some damn body because I needed to see all of her badass femme!top-seme-realness reach its glory.

Jemma is clearly deep in with Fitz when Daisy’s sapphic vibes peak (meaning all her male love interests are dead and she’s focusing on being solo dolo).

My heart would’ve equally, if not more so, melted if we could’ve at least gotten some young adorkable hacker lesbian with the personality of Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds on the team. She could’ve taken over the former Skye’s role as the web-wiz of the group. 

And then these two sapphos could’ve competed against Jemma/Fitz for most adorable couple ever on AoS before Yoyo/Mack even came into existence.

absolutely played by the enchantingly cute Taylor Russell, right? I mean, right?

*lovelorn sigh* .......After getting (emotionally-wounded-and-closed-off) S3/S4-Daisy to open up, let the guard down a bit and return to her normal self some, Daisy and Adorkable Hacker Girl could first bond over hacking and swap stories about their backgrounds as outcasts. Daisy’s being because she was an orphan, Adorkable Hacker Girl’s being because perhaps she was severely neglected and abused by a family whose idea of love was three square meals a day and a slap instead of a fist some days. 

This could lead to conversations about what defines family and revelations about how AHG sees herself as weak compared to Daisy because she has this aversion to violence and could never stand up to her family, stand up for herself or the siblings she cared about. She instead ran away and erased herself from the world by becoming this shape-shifting entity on the internet, which fills her with shame.

Then Daisy could try to teach her how to fight in a very private intimate setting as a way of encouraging her and protecting her from feeling embarrassed, letting her learn at her own pace. Of course, AHG doesn't let on about her traumatic past with violence and goes along with the training because she appreciates the gesture and wants to be close to Daisy. And of course, there comes a point when it all becomes overwhelming. At this point, when AHG shuts down and wants to quit, Daisy realizes, the hard way, that this approach to helping her overcome her aversion was a mistake all along because literally not knowing how to throw a punch is not actually the root of her problem. She could either find out what that root problem is through talking to her or dig through her past with the ole hacker skills and piece it together or do a combination of both.

She’ll go on to rescue AHG from violent ambushes by SHIELD enemies and comfort her later, when she feels like crap for freezing up or freaking out when the team needed her. Then what must follow is the inevitable episode where AHG does something brave without using violence, gets results and a near fatal injury in the process, which will lead to a bedside scene where the girl smiles through the pain and says “I just wanted to be strong like you for once.” 

And then Daisy, sitting next to her in bed and holding her hand with interlocked fingers, will kiss her hand and say “you’re stronger” and with tears sliding down, Daisy will kiss her forehead and---well, you get it, you get it. 

Now, let’s circle back to the idea of Jemma as our sapphic-inclined Daisy’s main love interest. 

As much as I love love love Fitz....his and Jemma's whole universe keeping us apart thing just doesn't hit the same romantic beats (especially since it's waaaay overdone) as Daisy's more recent anything for her thing with Jemma.

What I mean by Anything For is the prioritization of another person’s safety, feelings, and goals over the doer’s own, if they have any. Maybe this is just me over-analyzing things, but I feel like, in the later seasons, we see Daisy shift into the specific role of Jemma’s guardian. First, in a small way in S4 - when Daisy finds Jemma during the LMD take over. 

This scene! this SCENE!?!?! Oh, the way she talks her down, pulls her in, and makes her feel safe, that acting -- THAT acting! This whole moment is what officially awakened me to Skimmons! Daisy was hitting all my romantic hero beats to a TEE but only on some best friend shit. So could you imagine if they were actually a couple and she’s searching for her, trying to talk her down and pulls her in like that, I--dead. I have an entire urban fantasy series about demon slayers planned inspired by these two characters because of this precise moment. It’s working title is literally ‘the Daisy x Jemma story.’ Oh yes, I’m not in the messing around business. If I see wasted potential, I pick it up and I build.

In S5, we see Daisy Anything For Her-ing again in a big way when she goes on a tear through the lighthouse trying to rescue Jemma from alien slavery. Which is way more dramatically and immediately satisfying than just knowing Fitz is somewhere out there ‘working on it.’ 

And then once again, we see more Anything For Her-ing in S6 when Daisy supports Jemma flying them across the universe to fight more aliens looking for Past Fitz. And of course Daisy doesn’t mind being Jemma’s Hound because Jemma’s her bestie and she likely sees it as just doing her duty as Captain of the FitzSimmons ship. To the Hets and others who just happen not to ship them, all these acts of love and devotion are likely seen as just Daisy being a good big sister figure to Jemma and Fitz. And that’s lovely for them. 

But you know what would have been lovely for me, fellow femslashers? Leo Fitz being Jemma’s twin brother this whole time and also, of course, Jemma being gayer than a pack of skittles.

Truth be told, I was never a fan of the Twilight-y/Jacob Black-ish way that Jemma/Fitz started, with the latter harboring these feelings and the former being completely oblivious and then awkward about it at first.

I’m not a fan of the Unrequited Love trope in general. And I love Fitz, so I was rooting for him to move on with someone who didn’t need to ease into the idea of loving him that way. But ease Jemma did. And they’re in it for real and for life...well, for the five minutes a year they get to be in the same room, anyway. 

But what could’ve happened if FitzSimmons were twin siblings instead (and I was the head writer on the show who made Jemma and Daisy definite lady-lovin’ ladies, no squinting required)?? 

Jemma and Daisy’s love story begins post-Ward Betrayal, somewhere in late S2 early S3 with some "my emotional rock" moments, followed up with mild flirtations and blushing denials.

Then, as the pair were just beginning to show more overt feelings toward each other, Jemma starts being all anti-inhuman right when Daisy’s powers are emerging.

After the cat quakes out of the bag and Jemma is angry at Fitz and Daisy for hiding this from her, what ensues between the two girls is a tearful conversation about secrets and lies and fixing things that aren’t broken involving the words “are you afraid me?” & “I would never hurt you” somewhere in between. 

Then, after Jemma has some time to cool off, she apologizes to Twin!Brother Fitz for abandoning him and making him feel broken/discarded, then to True Love!Daisy for making her feel afraid to come to her, and then this quote happens “you have to know that the love I have for you runs deeper than fear of the unknown ever will.” 

only there would be kissing...yeh, lots more kissing.

I could sit here and rewrite every arc and scene with Daisy and Jemma as a couple spliced through it, but I won’t take up anymore time. 

Call me old fashioned but a strong rescue romance theme between a Rogue Toughie living by her own code of honor and a Strong-Willed Softie always surviving some kind of peril with her wits until her knight in shining gauntlets returns for her....the concept just melts my heart.

And that’s the vibe Daisy and Jemma give, especially in later parts of the show, which makes me wish that these two had been given the ‘Love Story of a Lifetime’ instead.

[theshenanijiang]

ZZS really just said: I'll confess first, since it's so hard. And then gently punch tapped WKX said: You, the one that I know. And then walked off like it was no big deal. Good job keeping it casual!

Gu Xiang does not know what to do with this boy (Cao Weining). He makes her like him. He is considerate and sweet and a bit silly. What is that saying that WKX told Chengling? Oh yeah, "Tough women like clingy men." BAHAHAHAHA

My guy Rong Xuan really said: Lets all learn each other's secrets and then proceeded to steal a bunch of the sect secrets. Fascinating.

Awww. ZZS is so proud of his little dumpling. ZZS just put it out there he thinks life is the most important thing and WKX looked startled. That is some good advice right there. Let them scramble for the thing. We don't have to be involved. I like you and you aren't greedy and I am going to teach you, so you listen to my advice.

Meanwhile WKX in the background: Why do I get the feeling ZZS is saying this to me... can I let go? Can I be done with this? Should I listen to his advice?

Gu Xiang I hope you don't have to fight your way out of this mess. Are you sure that Xioalian didn't throw you under the bus on purpose? Was it ignorance or spite?

Oooooohhhhhhhhhhh Cao Weining.

WKX is like: I get a HUG?!

Chengling really be healing these two grown ass men by being son shaped.

"You're like a mother who sent her son away." ZZS is daddy, WKX is mommy?

That Yueyang disciple" CWN you sly dog!" ROFLMAO

That is one of the most beautiful things I have heard a character say as reassurance. "A bad guy can be forgiven if he puts down the sword, so why should a good guy be sent to hell for doing something bad once."

WKX's heirarchy of needs:

Chengling is so brave!

WKX and ZZS talking about their childhoods and then "Lets go make a big mess of the Scorpion King's nest, like the troublemakers we are!" 🤣

Xiaolian, what are you doing? I'm with you on this one Gu Xiang. Also, that is the correct reaction to the news that Chengling has been accepted as ZZS' disciple. Gu Xiang cannot handle boys being nice to her. LOL I dunno Gu Xiang, why did you think of Cao Weining?

ZZS watching Gu Xiang and WKX interact and then Cao Weining come in: Aahhhh so that is why she doesn't want to leave. Ah, young love.

ZZS really went: WKX there is no reason to be jealous, I just wanna hang out with you, boo. Buut our girl should settle down with the guy she seems to like...

Cao Weining is so excited that they might think he is trustworthy!