#she burned the bridge with my sister so I can’t move

[whimsycore]

Not me realizing how desparately I need to move out after the night my mother asked someone how her adult freedoms where going and then asked me when I said “what freedoms” she made it about me driving and not her being a literal tyrant

[gretavanlace]

Blank

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, dirty talk, discussion of poor self image/shaky mental health, praise, degradation, dumbification, impact play (spanking), etc

You’re standing in front of the floor length mirror when Josh’s voice finds you…turning this way and that with your t-shirt pulled tight around your belly and a frown furrowing your brow.

“The movie’s ready, baby.” There’s a smile in his tone, and a dramatic flare, as there so often is, as he leans against the door jamb. “And I made the popcorn on the stove like you like. None of that microwaved bullshit for my darling doll.”

You’d like to find your excitement in order to match his own - movie night is his favorite night of the week. Often, it turns into several nights a week, in keeping with his passion for film and curling up snug and warm with you on the couch.

And normally, you look forward to it as well, but tonight…

Well, tonight you’d just as soon crawl into bed alone and in the dark. How else will you ever manage to tune out all those poisonous thoughts hissing through your mind? Obsidian. Ominous. Hateful.

“What are you doing, babe?” There is concern in his query. He knows you far too well.

Dropping your shirt as if it’s white hot, you slip away from the mirror, praying he’ll let the matter drop. Though, you hope in vain. You know him far too well, too. “Nothing. C’mon, whatever masterpiece you’ve selected isn’t going to watch itself.”

He steps into the room and you suppress a sigh of defeat. “Waterloo Bridge.” He clarifies, studying you intently. “And you’re a shitty liar. What’s wrong?”

“I said it’s nothing, Josh,” there’s a touch too much venom in your tone, but sometimes you wish he didn’t see so damn much. Sometimes you wish you could skate around things with him.

“And that’s a lie,” he points out, sidling up behind you when you turn away. “Do we lie to one another?”

“No.” You concede quietly as his arms cradle you from behind.

“So, would you like to try again?” His embrace is soft, but it makes you feel safe and protected all the same. He has this way about him - he is love and light, sunshine and smiles, gentle poetry…but something lies hidden away behind it all, something only you get to see, and it makes for the most deliciously dark and menacing aura when it comes out to play.

“I just,” now you’re stammering like a child caught with a crayon in her hand and scribbles on the wall.

His lips move along the nape of your neck, brushing over your skin and the whispers of hair that have fallen from your bun, “You just, what?”

“I had lunch with my sister today.” You offer meekly. Can’t he ever just leave things alone? Can’t he ever just let you curl up with your self-loathing?

“Yes,” he nods, now pecking at the curve of your jaw, “And I adore you for not making me come along…she’s exhausting.”

“I know.” His palms are now running along beneath your shirt, circling your belly with tender possessiveness…it’s soothing and filled up full of love, but you wish his hands would land somewhere a little more flattering “But she’s also truthful. She thinks I should start going to the gym with her, and she’s right.”

He stills behind you instantly, and you can feel him shaking his head, though you’ve closed your eyes against the embarrassment of it all.

Eager to fill the room up with words rather than your own vulnerability, you rush on “She’s is, though. Right, I mean. I’ve put on weight, and the older I get, the harder it will be to take off. Obviously, I’ve never been small, but—“

He cuts you off with a loose palm around your throat and a snapped, “Stop.” Breathed in your ear.

“Josh,” Christ, you want to melt into the floor, “I love you for always being so sweet, but I,”

You haven’t the chance to finish your thought and his grip is tightening, “I said, stop.”

A joke will quench the fire burning in your cheeks, “C’mon, what if I got all adorable and tiny like your little hippy girls in the crowd? I—“

A sharp pinch to the curve of your hip shocks you into silence, which he promptly fills. “Don’t say things like that. You’re fucking beautiful. Soft and warm. I want to nestle my face right here,” his hand is splayed out wide across your belly again, “and right here,” his touch drops to find the dimples in your thighs, “for the rest of my life. If we get to choose our heaven, you will be mine. Gorgeous, perfect girl.”

Now you’re struggling to squirm out of his insistent embrace. You feel too seen. And though you know he is nothing if not sincere, always…those lovely words of his, they feel like untruths.

“Josh,” you snap, a little too harshly, “let’s just go watch the movie, okay?”

But it’s too late, he has spotted the quiver at your bottom lip.

“Hey,” he spins you around to face him and you know it���s useless to shut him out at this point. “What’s going on up here, hmm?” He taps your temple gently, “Is it getting loud?”

You know he means those intrusive thoughts that plague you when the love and admiration he beams in your direction isn’t enough. He knows the way they scream and yell at you no matter how badly he’d love to quiet them for good.

Ashamed, you stare down at his t-shirt, toying with the cotton between your fidgeting fingers, “Maybe a little,” you hush.

His fist tucks under your chin, tilting your face upward, but still, you refuse his gaze. “You need it, baby?”

Voice soft and leading, he lures you out of your bashfulness just enough for you to find the bravery to blink up at him with the tiniest of nods.

“Yeah?” He sounds so unlike himself - but also, exactly like himself. “You need me to make it go away? Wipe that wild mind until you’re as blank as you are pretty?”

Josh is small, and he has never shied away from that, but in these moments, he feels larger than life…looming like a God sent to bring you peace. “Can you, please?’

With a taunting flick of your nipple, he switches on. “Well, how could I ever say no to such a sweet girl? You sound like honey when you say please.”

The warmth of his body, so near to yours, is suddenly missing, but you’re feeling a little too meek to glance up to see where he’s gone…opting to stare at your thumbnail in earnest instead, resisting the urge to pick your cuticle.

“Come on, doll,” his voice comes hushed as a siren’s secret song floating through a cove “Miss you already.”

You feel unworthy of this. Of him. Of all the tiny ways he loves you just right. How he has memorized you in and out. The way he looks at you like he could happily stare forever. How he understands even when he doesn’t quite understand…how he took your heart and turned it round and round until he had mapped out every inch. How he dives inside your mind every day and does the same, no matter how tragic and treacherous it can be to wade through those waters.

When you had stumbled upon this, it had been by accident really. A harsh crack of his palm against the globe of your ass by way of quieting you when you’d argued with his stuttering praises as he pushed into you over and over from behind. Your brain had short circuited in the most welcomed and stunning way. That stinging impact, the shock of it, the tangible pain, had left no room for cruel thoughts…your mind was muffled up like lavender cotton with nothing but Josh and what he saw fit to give.

Most times, he loves you hard enough just by being himself. Golden, shimmering aura, grinning heart, sure and tender hands…but sometimes you need this from him - and he is always willing to oblige. You hold the key that turns all his locks, and he would sink into a bed of hot coals for a nap if you thought to ask it of him.

With a clipped call of your name, he’s got you hustling across the room to fold yourself shyly over his knee at the foot of the bed.

“That’s perfect, baby.” He coos down at you, palm stroking over the backs of your thighs before bunching your t-shirt up around your waist. “Gonna make it all go away, aren’t I? Is that what you need? You need me to take it all away?”

“Please.” You sound pathetic, but already it’s a sweeter sort of shame. One you can name. One you can love.

His fingers tuck under the cotton of your panties, hooking at the soft lace that adorns the edges, straightening them as though he’s adjusting the ribbon on a present he’s waited a very long time to receive.

“If I had to guess,” he hums, a little like the kindest bully you’ve ever known, “I’d wager your pretty pussy’s feeling lonely already. Maybe a little whiny. Maybe starting to swell…” his hands continue to pet at your ass, your thighs, your hips, “I love that, you know? Watching how puffy and swollen you get. It’s adorable…and fucking sexy. Your body begs without a sound.”

Your grip is twisting into the blanket beneath you now as your cheek nuzzles against the downy softness “Josh…”

“Quiet,” he bestows a single, much too delicate smack in the wrong place. It’s too far off to the side for your liking, and he knows it. “We’ll get there. You’re gonna listen first.”

An obedient nod tugs yet another delicious hum of approval from him and you squirm lightly under his hands, thrumming with pleasure at the sound of his validation.

“You’re alright, baby…” he’s being so gentle. Too gentle. But you would lie here beneath his hands and his gaze for all of eternity if that’s what would suit him. “My poor thing just needs it, doesn’t she? Busy little head needs to just leave…” a soft swat lands upon your cheek just below the waist, “her…” another, “alone,” and another.

“Harder, Josh…” it’s a piteous plea, one that pairs nicely with the honeyed, condescending melodies drifting off his tongue.

“Tell me what you’d like me to do to you.” He’s coaxing so kindly, but you know what lurks below that shiny surface. “Say the words, my darling doll. Say the words.”

With a deep, centering breath, you find the calm in your storm by way of his scent…eucalyptus and bergamot…woodsy hint of lemon soap lingering beneath. You find strength in his presence, and love there, too.

“Spank me.” It pants out of you like an urgent prayer. “Make it stop.”

As if in punctuation to your begging, he lands a harsh, loud, cracking strike against the fat of your ass. It comes quickly, shaking your equilibrium though this is exactly what you’ve been imploring him for.

“Fuck!” The curse pushes out of your lungs, long and grateful. Blindsided and aching.

Another blow lands in exactly the same place, setting the flesh there on fire. “Yeah? Fuck?” He taunts, “That’s a good fucking doll…you just take it.”

“More,” you’re rocking around, blissful at the pain and the twitching of his hard cock beneath you.

He begins laying into you without restraint, blow after blow raining down on you like merciful salvation. Your brain is numb now - quiet, hazy and clouded with his perfect wrath.

Tears are streaking like fire down your cheeks, a graven image of mother Mary sobbing blood in a candlelit room of worship come to life. He is your alter. He is your God.

“That’s my girl,” his accolades stutter out between smack after smack until he pauses to jerk your legs apart. “You’re dripping all over me. Baby needs it right here, too?” There is his touch, love and reverence woven into the very fingerprints nudging at your covered entrance. “Dirty little cunt needs a spanking, too, doesn’t she?”

Embarrassingly, a mumbled, indecipherable sound croaks out of you, and your entire body flushes hot with an indignity you happen to relish.

“What was that?” He sounds like sex…like he’s thinking with his throbbing cock - but if your mind’s eye could see straight, you would know better. He is careful and controlled in these moments. Never losing sight of himself, never risking a move too far. “Aw, poor doll is just a dumb little baby, now? Spanked all quiet and wet? I like that, beautiful. I like that very much. No thoughts, right? Shh, no thoughts.”

Again, you manage merely a sound, a murmuring of his name no one but yourself could ever transcribe.

A violent strike buries its way into your covered folds. You jolt and cry out, writhing against his thighs, fighting for more.

You want him inside in any capacity. Fingers, tongue, cock..it matters not, just inside. That’s the only word you seem to know in this moment - inside, inside, inside. But with another sound slap against your cunt, it explodes through your nerve endings like a wire kicking up sparks and skittering against desolate, lonely pavement. You’re climaxing hard and fast, releasing all over the fleece covering his thighs, thrusting against nothing, mourning the heat of his impact though it was there for but a breath.

“Yes!” It wails out of you, warbling and wild…teeth clenched and grinding, body wound so tightly your muscles will protest and complain later.

There will come a time tonight where you’ll long for a way to thank him. For a way to call his name and cradle his face and express your absolute gratitude for this blank slate he molds your mind into…for the way he takes all the ugly and chases it right out of your orbit…

But for now, you fall limp and spent against him. Breathing heavily and deeply. Drawing oxygen way down into your chest that no longer feels so tight. And for now he’ll hear no talk of reciprocation, for now he continues to cater to you with devotion in his touch and a worshipful cast in his gaze as he slips away to draw you a bath.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @poofyloofy @jakeslovehandles @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

[abibliophobiaa]

My sweet babes I'm so sorry allergies are kicking your butt rn ! My dear Luna , Can I pls get a small little look into what our gourgous buttercup and Eddie are up to ??

from the daylight universe

dad!eddie munson x mom!reader

requests are open (general requests for any eddie/steve and scenario, not just daylight ones)!

——

You tried everything.

A choo-choo train. A helicopter. An airplane. And none, absolutely none of the aforementioned options, intrigued your six-month-old. In fact, most of his mushy peas ended up everywhere but his mouth. Coated his high hair tray, his bib, his cheek — even his curly head of hair.

Because every time you went to offer a spoon to your son, his head turned at the last second, whiny cries spilling from pouty lips framed by chubby cheeks. Instead he was too interested in everything happening over his shoulder to even attempt trying a new food for the week, where mere feet away his older sister was playing air guitar with your husband.

“Eddie,” you grumbled, stirring him from his little concert, drawing his attention your way, “help?”

“What? Benny Boy doesn’t like his peas?” Eddie mused, slipping into the adjoined kitchen to press a loud kiss to Benny’s cheek, earning a gummy smile and the cutest giggle. Baby boy was enamored with his dad. “Someone is a little messy.”

He gestured to all the encrusted peas on every surface area of baby Benny’s feeding area. You huffed out a grunt as Elena barreled into your lap, never wanting to miss out on the extra attention of her parent’s.

“He’s your son,” you laughed, pinching at the bridge of your nose as Eddie dragged over a chair in front of Ben, “he doesn’t like anything green.”

“Mommy is being silly, isn’t that right?”

“Mommy always siwwy,” Elena giggled, earning a little tickle from her father before he turned back to his baby and waved the spoon near Ben’s pursed lips.

Ben, knowing what his father intended, pushed his head as far back as he could into the cushion of his high chair. Pushed his face into the furthest corner, eliciting an elongated whine.

“Daddy, sing song,” Elena said brightly, leaning forward in the circle of your arms to grasp at her baby brother’s hand currently waving angrily in the air. “Benny, vegebles make you grow big!” And then she turned to you as Benny broke into a louder cry of anger, “Mommy, why is he yelling?!”

Your hand glided down her head, brushing away some messy curls, “He’s just a baby; he doesn’t know any better. You used to cry when I tried to feed you foods you didn’t like.”

“I did?”

“All the time, sweet girl,” Eddie said, holding up the spoon to his son one more time. “Aww, Ben, come on, buddy.” Eddie cleared his throat, muscle in his bicep shifting as he tried one more time to spoon feed the baby, singing quietly, “Come crawling faster.”

Ben’s eyes sparkled at the sound of his father’s voice, head turning to face him. You grunted out a laugh, because both of your children danced away while they were still on the inside whenever Eddie sang to them. Figured now he recognized it and stood at attention.

“Obey your master.”

“I can’t look at you right now,” you laughed, bouncing Elena on your knee.

“Your life burns faster,” Eddie sang, and Ben giggled, bright and joyful, mouth opening wide enough for Eddie to shovel a bite in.

The moment of truth came in the form of Ben staring at you both, brows furrowed, a little bit of extra peas spilling out from his closed lips. Baby boy’s mouth moved, worked over the contents of his palate, and both of you waited on bated breath to see if peas would be on the menu for the foreseeable future.

Your answer? Food splattering from puckered lips, the sound of his normal bubbles he’d make, paired with the force of his breath sending green sputtering into his father’s face. Eddie closed his eyes, your own laughter unable to be stifled as Benny bursted out into loud, rising giggles.

“Da-ddy,” Elena trilled, her own laughter like little bells in your ears.

Eddie jerked his head over his shoulder, a little glum, sticky with baby food, grimace on his lips. “Not a word from you, Buttercup.”

“Got a little something…” you teased, thumbing at his stubbly jawline, “right here.”

——

“I feel like I still have peas in my hair,” Eddie grumbled later that evening, when both children settled down for a nap.

“Baby food is like glitter.”

You laughed, walking across the bedroom as he rubbed a towel over his wet hair, chest bare, gray sweats hanging low on his hips. Fingers slipped up and over his torso, forging a path over his shoulders, before your arms draped around the back of his neck to hold him close.

“Hi,” you whispered, leaning up just the slightest to press a kiss to his lips, “I’m happy you’re home.”

It had been a long couple of months. He’d barely made it in time for the birth of Ben, your contractions starting while they were just getting on stage for a concert, ramping up much quicker than they did with Elena. By the time you were allowed to push, Chrissy was there to hold your hand, moving out of the way only when your husband rushed in, still sweaty from his show, hair a mess, cheeks reddened like he’d ran from the venue.

You’d tried to come along to as many local shows as possible, but doing so with a newborn at the time proved difficult. Eddie had missed a lot of those first six months, a fact he grieved every day because neither of you planned for your second child to come a few weeks earlier than anticipated. But now he was home, and you couldn’t be happier.

“Missed me?” he teased, voice a low rumble against the curve of your neck, lips seeking out the places he knew had you preening for him in seconds. “Thought about you all the time while I was gone. My best friend, my wife, the mother of my children.”

His fingers dragged up the edge of your silky shorts, toying with the hem of your panties, along the wet spot already forming there, dragging a slow circle along your clothed clit. “Thought about you like this too,” he practically purred, forehead dropping against yours as you gasped against his lips, “when did Steve and Chrissy say they’re taking the kids?”

“Five,” you huffed out an exasperated sigh, craving nearness to him too. He’d only gotten back the night before, had walked over to your bed and face planted into it after holding both your babies tight until they’d gone off to bed. “And then it’s just us. And…a teeny tiny gift I might have gotten you.”

“Are you pregnant again?” His eyes twinkled at the thought, and you shoved him jokingly at the mere notion, though you’d love one or two more in the future.

“I’m going to need at least another year before we think about that — but no, it’s…” You paused, grabbing his hand to lead him toward the garage. “Remember how we’d both said we always wanted a dog?”

“Baby…” He couldn’t help the excitement in his tone, the way his eyes softened and then widened when he saw the golden poof of hair hidden in a box, a giant red bow around his furry neck. “You got me a puppy?”

“Shhh,” you giggled brightly, insides melting as your husband reached down to pluck the puppy from its box, “I haven’t told the kids yet. I wanted to show you first.”

Said puppy wiggled in his new dad’s arms, pink tongue rolling across his chin, his cheeks, his nose, making your husband burst out in laughter at the influx of pure love.

“Welcome home, Eddie,” you said, folding against his chest and patting at the puppy’s head. “I love you.”

He kissed the top of your head as the puppy leaned over to lick your nose. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

——

[eris-snow]

Hi I was thinking if you could do aizawa having a sibling or daughter. Like a younger sister or daughter who he teaches and do some type of angst with them. Like him not paying much attention to her or she’s caught doing something (like smoking,drugs). Something like that. Thank you ❤️

I’m not comfortable writing any mentions about underage smoking or drinking (cause I assume that she's still in high school when this scene occurs) but I’ll try to make it up by making y/n kind of ‘bad girl’ ish!

I don't condone underage smoking or underage drinking. Please take care of your body :D

Note for the requester below!

Tags: daughter!yn, Aizawa, angst

“So, mind explaining what that was?” Aizawa asks, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his room door in the dorms of Class A.

You think it's ironic because, even as his daughter, you’ve only seen this place once.

Your arms are littered with scars, a nasty bruise already forming on your cheek at where you’ve been punched. It throbs, sure, but it's nothing compared to your father's words.

No, his words are a knife to the chest. They’d make your heart bleed so much more than any quirk every could.

“Don’t want to,” You grouse, shrugging of your school bag. It lands on the ground with a loud thud as you try to reach for the door handle. A hand shoots out to grab yours firmly, making you freeze in your spot.

“May be I should have rephrased my statement,” Your father growls. “Tell me what happened, Y/n.”

His grip is controlled, gentle but firm in a way that makes you want to scoff. So he only cares now, when you kick up a fuss.

How flippant.

And yet, a small part of your mind still cowers at Aizawa’s anger. Your father’s icy wrath can be as cold as a snowstorm or as explosive as Bakugou, and you’re already anticipating and analyzing different ways you could mould yourself back into the person he wants you to be.

Pathetic.

“Nothing happened,” You mutter, not daring to move. “All I did was lose control a little, that’s all—”

“You picked a fight with my student, Y/n!” Aizawa raised his voice, causing tears to prickle your eyes. “Bakugou’s a ticking time bomb that blows up every 10 minutes. You know that, and you still did it! If it weren’t for Midoriya’s quick thinking to get me, you could have been seriously hurt!”

And that’s when it snaps.

“Your s-stu—” You break off, jerking your hand away from his. Your father’s eyes narrow, about to snap again— “Your daughter lost control of her quirk, Dad! Your daughter! Why is it you still care about your own goddamn students over me?”

Aizawa’s eyes widen, fury snuffing out. “Y/n—”

“NO!” You yell, shaking with emotion. “I’ve listened and watched for my whole fucking life. It’s my turn.”

Aizawa opens his mouth, but the minute tears spill from your eyes and a sob escapes your mouth, he presses his lips into a tight line.

“Your students have always been the priority. Ever since day one, you’d throw yourself in front of a villain crime lord to save them when I didn’t know if you’d even spend my birthday with me each year.” You bite your lip, trembling as the word vomit finally spews from your lips. You can’t stop it, and it just keeps coming and coming because now that the lid is off, the words bubble over like a volcano.

“Do you know what everyone in Class B says?” You grit your teeth, clenching your dirt-ridden shirt with your fingernails digging into your skin. The tears burn hot like magma, and you can’t stop yourself from choking the next few lines out. “They’ve labelled you the second father of Class A, Dad! Did you know that?”

A bitter laugh wrenches itself out of your lips, and you’re pretty sure your skin is bleeding at how tightly you’re clenching your shirt. “Am I not your daughter, Dad? Am I not important now that Mum’s gone?”

“I loved your mother—”

“But do you love me?” you sob out.

The question causes Aizawa’s heart to plummet faster than a ten-pound bowling ball. Your voice is so small, so uncertain, and it makes Aizawa’s heartache. Do you-do you seriously think that? That he didn’t love you?

His hesitation was a fatal mistake, because for the first time in a long while, you look up to him with defiance in your eyes. You’d always been a good child, Aizawa had taught you well, after all. But this? Your eyes were hard, stone cold, and it makes Aizawa stop short.

“That’s what I thought.” You curl into yourself with a small choke, hands finding the door handle before you glance back at him with a teary, broken gaze. “Go check on your precious Bakugou. They seem to need you way more than I do.”

The door slams and knocks down the picture frame hanging on his door, shattered glass fragmenting with a loud, high-pitched crash.

On it, is a photo of you and him on Father’s Day.

To be honest, he has already forgotten how long ago it was taken.

--

Note to the requester: I'm so sorry it's so late! I was debating if I should make it a happy ending and ultimately decided to go with this so it wasn't forced. Sorry if it wasn't exactly what you asked for, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! Thank you for requesting! 💛

[hcdragonwrites]

Rain (a Journey to the Au Drabble)

I wrote another thing! I was touched and inspired by @journey-to-the-au ! I wasn’t expecting to finish it in one sitting but my brain was afire, and I lost track of time so swiftly. I hope you like it and I hope I did your babies justice !

“Another day in paradise.” Earth Reaching Willow spoke the words aloud, soft and sad.

Then why did it feel like another day pressed between the pages of a book? The thought came like a tidal wave to the front of her mind, stirring and shaking Willows mask of serenity just a bit. No colors or sensations, just the barest touch of description was what the South Pole Palace had become to her.

Heaven was peace - but that peace was starting to chafe Earth Reaching Willow sharply. Here she stood, Eldest Daughter to the Jade Emperor along the railing of her favorite bridge in The Garden of Heaven, feeling the softest breeze curl against her cheek. The water beneath her did not stir with the breeze. The koi swimming beneath in their burning colors of gold and orange fire had the grace of clouds, hardly stirring the silt beneath them.

‘Why can’t I be content?’

She knew why. Earth Reaching Willow was able to eloquently pick apart her own thoughts just as she could with any noblemen or Celestial counselor that brought her gifts to bribe her hand.

Knowing peace all of her existence was beginning to feel as if she were repeating the same day over and over. Reading the same passage in a book, viewing the same painting upon her fathers study wall of bobbing cranes and water dragons. The frustration rose in her. But that’s all I can do. I view the things I hear of. Read of them but I, Daughter of Heaven, will never experience them.

She let that grace her father so prided her on slip off of her as she slumped to rest her arms upon the bridge. The same breeze teased her face again and also revealed she had, surprisingly, a loose thread upon her sleeve.

Earth Reaching Willow took the thread in hand and twisted it between her fingers.

The golden royal hues of her gown were pearled in the most intricate of stitches of willow leaves and falling blossoms, reaching downward from her arms to brush against the river that wove itself across the hem of her attire in a frothing and silent roar. Her handmaidens were so scrupulous in their fussing of her that she was surprised they had missed this little thread. She tugged and noticed the thread was connected to a stylized blossom on her wrist in free fall. It was forever stuck in its descent, never moving beyond where it was perched.

“Are you rebelling against the design of your Life, little thread?” Earth Reaching Willow gently asked.

She had been taught and schooled in being the epitome of serenity, in walking with a stillness and grace that other immortals and celestials envied. Willow and her sisters danced with grace, every motion balanced and calculated. That was the true flow of peace- to balance every motion to not disrupt the water around it. All the people of earth craved this peace, this very place that Earth Reaching Willow lived in.

She plucked at the thread. I am but a stitch in Heaven's grand tapestry. Just like this thread I’m bound up and frozen in a state of existing between.

It almost raised Willows emotions above that dam she had built within herself, almost swamping her in the feeling of stasis.

I cannot succumb to that feeling. She would not. Her finger came away from her sleeve with a snap that startled her silence. The thread she had been twisting and worrying at had come free. It waved in the breeze between her fingers.

Earth Reaching Willow let it go, watching as it floated down and shattered the mirror surface of the water. Ripples rolled from its wake, the most movement Willow had ever witnessed here. The carp swam close, investigating this intruder to their watery paradise.

“Be free Little thread. Be free for both of us…”

“Should I be concerned that my bride-to-be is talking to her clothing?” A warm buttery voice called from behind her.

Willow knew this voice.

“You should be more concerned you have yet to greet me this day, Husband-to-be.” Earth Reaching Willow responded, turning. Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven strode forward and took her hand to kiss it.

Of all the heavenly attendants and immortal beings in all the heavens of the worlds she knew, she was glad Wukong was hers. The Monkey King was dressed in his royal regalia, the armor shining bright in the perpetually perfect sunlight. He was dressed to impress. But it wasn’t to impress her.

Willow raised her sleeve to cover her face in mock flustered love, when really she was hiding her silent laughter. She whispered just loud enough for her dear friend to hear but too silent for any eavesdroppers to catch.

“How many are watching?”

Wukong looked up from her hand, hiding his own smile against her wrist.

“Two from beyond the wall and one from a bench beneath the pear blossom tree. I think if you entwine your hand with mine and if we make moon eyes at each other we may satisfy their curiosity.” He had a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Done.” Earth Reaching Willow dipping her hand to clasp Wukongs fingers, laying her own kiss upon his skin.They pressed their faces close, cheek to cheek.

Playing at being head over heels in love was the most fun Willow had ever had. When Wukong and her and thought up the scheme, she had had her concerns- mainly with the retaliation from the simpering suitors that would be furious that a mere immortal had caught the Princesses attention. There had been protests of course. Then Wukong had declared his intentions, regaling the court with his great deeds and how, if he had to, he would champion himself and outdo all his previous accomplishments in the name of proving he was worthy of the hand of Earth Reaching Willow.

Well that had set the court to a flummoxed and outraged chaos. When Wukong and Willow had gotten away from the courts eyes and ears they had bent over and laughed, tears welling in their eyes. Yes Earth Reaching Willow had had her misgivings. But months down the line Willow loved the game they played. It was the most alive she had felt in all her life. She began to look forward to her days and meetings with Wukong, this handsome monkey who brought life to her she so craved.

After a time of whispering in each others ears (mostly jokes or riddles that would set the other to smiling) Wukong flicked his tail, their silent signal that they were alone.

They stayed close but relaxed truly now, smiles becoming wide and friendly instead of the flirty facade they played for court.

“We should start our own acting troop.” Wukong said, resting his arms over the bridge to gaze out on the garden.

“Oh?” Earth Reaching Willow raised a perfect brow.

“We are both actors of stunning caliber!” He said, tapping his chest with pride. “You keep pace with every act I bring to the table and have even come up with your own! Remember the Banquet of Snow?”

How could she forget? “We danced together so long that my own Father had to interrupt us! Then I fed you from my own plate and you me- I am pretty sure we left them all sick with how in love we had been.”

Wukong laughed. Willow laughed with him. He had that effect with his laughter, so warm and uncontained. The sound broke Heaven's peace in such a way it swept one up with it in a tide of warmth.

An edge of melancholy overcame Earth Reaching Willow then. I want to feel this all the time- this laughter. This light.

“Oh Wukong, I wish you would never leave.” She told him then, staring off into the water. Her thread was gone, either taken by the invisible current or plucked out of the water by some invisible attendant.

The Monkey King turned his head, ears curved forward.

“Now Willow, what has made you so sad?”

She shook her head, eyes cast to the water below.

“Don’t try and hide it from me- I know you too well now. You may be an actor but you can’t fool me. I’m your partner in crime, after all. I’ve seen all your tricks.” He jested, smile playing along his lips

“Oh have you?” Willow asked but her voice lacked the usual playful banter. Her mind had returned to the heavy thoughts of grace and perpetual serenity, of the mantle of sameness and here, with him, she couldn’t hide.

“Willow…” Wukong gently tapped her arm with his hand. “What has dampened your light ? My friend, tell me. There is no one in the Garden. It’s safe here.”

It was the softness with which he spoke that almost broke Willow. He had always been kind to her. She took just a half shuffle to the side, reaching for recomposure. If she stayed in his kindness she would have unleashed that tidal wave battering within her.

It wanted to get out.

She had to keep it in.

She took a breath.

Then another.

“Heaven is … Paradise.” The words came from Earth Reaching Willow softly. Only a bit- only a trickle of that emotion I will let forth. If I let it flow free I’ll loose that peace and I don’t want my Father to catch wind I cried in the Garden. Or to thing it was Wukong who caused it.

“Maybe a little rain or something.” Or anything her heart sang. A bird within a gilded cage.

Now that it was out- now that she had said it, her body felt lighter. A stone cast from her soul. If it had just been her, Willow was concerned she wouldn’t be able to cast off this pallor of sorrow with ease. With Wukong however, his vibrancy drew from her heart the deepest of her well locked up sorrows.

Wukongs hands were suddenly over hers, tugging Willow off and away from the bridge.

“W-Wukong what -“ Earth Reaching Willows voice faltered. Her friends face was brighter than any sunbeam she and her sisters had ever woven, some unknown emotions twinkling in his eyes.

“Come with me Willow-I have something to show you!” He pulled her off the bridge and out the garden, tail tapping in tandem to his bright smile and little laughs. “Come come- out of that stuffy garden with you!”

“Wukong what has taken over you?”

“An idea. A brilliant and stupendous idea! But it is a surprise so you must close your eyes!” He peered right into her face, mockingly stern. “No peeking! It will ruin the effect!”

Willow snorted, being swept up again in his golden glow of emotion. He is quite adorable.

“Alright alright ! I will cover my eyes!” Willow lifted her hands, covering her eyes from view. The smile dancing on her lips couldn’t be washed away by the tide of sorrow within her. Not when this burning bright flame of a person was with her.

“Wukong…”

“Not yet!”

“Wukong how much longer?”

“Not much farther! Just — oop watch your step here!”

It had been a short flight to this mysterious place Wukong had taken Willow and she couldn’t help the electrical feel of excitement ripple up her spine. Any other being covering her eyes would give Earth Reaching Willow pause. Wukong however ? This was her sweet monkey, the kind soul that had seen her trapped between unhappy marriage options and had come in to give her an escape.

She trusted him just as he had trusted her with his past, with who he was.

Wukong stopped.

“Alright Willow- let me cover your eyes now that I have you on a safe spot.”

“Don’t want me to wander off a cliff dear husband-to-be ?”

“I would be a terrible husband if I let my wife-to-be walk her way off a cliff. The Emperor would have a new monkey rug to enjoy.”

She laughed, smiling against his palms.

“You could never be turned into a rug my dear.”

“You are right- however my own mothers would make me one in his stead.” The laughter slowly faded and Willow felt Wukong lean forward from behind. He was warm against her back, the breath against the shell of her ear making her ticklish.

“Are you ready?” He asked. She couldn’t help the spark that set off in her limbs. Surprises in Heaven were always of the placibile kind. A new set of moon needles to sew with, a gown woven from the beard of a water dragon, a parasol that changed decorations by the phases of the sun- all orderly gifts expected to be given to a princess.

Wukong however was not of the Heavenly court. His gifts had never been of the ‘appropriate’ kind that those stiff backed men had presented to Willow.

“Yes.” Her breath came quickly now.

“Alright…” the Monkey King removed his hands from her face. “Open them.”

Earth Reaching Willow did.

And lost her breath.

She and Wukong were standing upon the edge of a mountain cliff, facing out to something Willow had only seen once before. The ocean sparkled and flashed beneath the warm amber sun that was beginning to set in its sea. Like scales upon a dragons skin, the ocean moved as if breathing, basking in the buttery glow of the sun. Colors came alive in the twist of the mountains beside them- upon the leaves of the trees as they refracted the sunlight. Something was rising from within her, a rush of feeling. What could it be? It was as if she had drunk too much heavenly wine, a headrush so clear and bright and so unlike the muddling effects of wine. Willow opened her mouth, to speak to gasp to thank, she didn’t know. She didn’t get a chance.

A great cloud of gray swept over one of the mountains, close enough to see its plumes of ink dark but not in the way of its storm path. Great sheets of water streamed down beneath its mass, diamond drops of water glowing like honey in the sunset. The sound! Her ears, if they could move, would have swiveled to catch it. A great Crescendo of sound, sweeter than chimes and deeper than flutes, fell with the rain. It made sound out of the colors and things before her, falling on that great oceans back, painting the mountain dark, and scenting the air with such a perfume as to be heady and intoxicating. It made her heart race, her blood feel afire. Willow took a half step forward.

“Careful love.” Wukong caught her arm, gently stopping her from getting too close to the edge. Willow turned to him and Wukong gasped. Her monkey reached up and wiped away something that was spilling from her face. A tear. She had been crying?

“Wukong …” she heard the emotion in her voice, that swelling water within her threatening to come up and drown her words.

“We call it a sun shower.” Sun Wukong replied, gesturing to the magnificence before them. “Do you like it ?”

The dam within Willow broke then. Her smile became as wide and bright as to rival the sunset before Wukong. She laughed, throwing back her head in a way he had never seen before.

“Like ? Like ? Like does not even begin to brush upon the - this - this feeling. It’s-“ How to describe this thunder within her body? Willow was eloquent and well versed in poetry. But all the poetry of the broad heavens and the words in all the languages known and unknown failed to compare what this gave to her. She could only laugh, only cry and only smile. “I Love this…”

Suddenly Earth Reaching Willow was vibrating with a radiance The Sage had only caught in glimpses when he had disarmed her within the court with his charm or wits. Wukong felt a glow of pride and love wash over him, seeing her in a way no one else had.

Earth Reaching Willow was finally alive in a way she had never been in all her eternity within Heaven's own Garden. Rain and sun, sea and sky had freed her and, if Wukong had anything to say about it, he would give her this every day for the rest of their existence together.

Earth Reaching Willow was for the earth after all. She was finally Home.

[sugarlesswriting]

While I sat outside with my sister to pass out candy to children I came up with a small little AU. There’s not a lot for an actual story but enough for some headcanons.

            Paranormal Investigator AU

Duncan burned some bridges while in Toronto and can’t seem to find a decent job. Gwen can’t seem to find a job with her art history degree.

One day while channel surfing they get to the Travel Channel and there’s a show about paranormal investigation. Gwen jokes that it would be easy to scam home owners and pretended to feel an ‘evil presence’ in a corner.

That’s where Nocturne Paranormal Investigations began.

They’ve been scamming from Mississauga all the way to Montreal. That is until one day they get a call from a man who calls himself Mr. Madden and he’s from Vancouver.

Gwen doesn’t want to make the trip because going cross country means spending money but the man promises to pay them triple.

She almost hangs up because it ticks off to many boxes on the start of a horror movie. Strang man not from their area calling them to go a long way from home. Check. Not doubling but tripling it when she turns it down. Check.

That is until he’s pleading on the phone and that he only called because his niece spoke highly of them.

Gwen decides to play along because now that she thinks about business has been slow and she has time to kill.

After a few minutes Mr. Madden wears her down and now that she thinks about it she they could use a change of pace, but also they can’t be picky when it comes to business. Even if it screams Dumb Horror Movie Decision™.

Gwen takes the case without consulting Duncan which made him think that his life was a living hell while they drove to Vancouver. Which made her life a living hell for 22 hours.

DJ their new hire, and old friend, was a good buffer, but there was only so much he could do from Duncan being an ass. Which made Gwen act like an ass. Which just makes DJ wish that maybe he took his uncles offer as working at a temp agency.

 The moment Duncan drives his car up the long driveway, with tree’s and  random pieces of stoned carvings he makes a comment about if they die he’ll kill Gwen.

The mansion is huge and Duncan now thinks that Gwen should have squeezed a couple extra thousand.

Gwen finds it annoying that Duncan has not only been bitching for the whole time, but now he’s bitching at her for not negotiating better.

Gwen was going to kill him if the owner of the house didn’t.

Duncan sees another car in the large driveway and is back to being grump, but also on edge to the point that Gwen thinks he finally lost it.

He starts to light up while they wait for Mr. Madden to answer the door. Gwen can basically feel the stress off him. She wonders if he’s really scared of this big mansion. It is screaming murder mystery house

Mr. Madden finally answers the door. He has familiar features with blond hair and green eyes. Gwen feels her stomach drop because if his niece is the person she’s thinking about that means Duncan’s ex-girlfriend isn’t far behind.

Gwen hopes that maybe they aren’t there. That it would just be her team and Mr. Madden during their investigation.

She’s proven wrong when he takes them to the drawing room because it’s the place that had the least activity from spirits.

There are four other people in there. Two she knew were going to be there, the other’s didn’t even come to her minds radar when she sees them in there.

Two she knew Bridgette and Courtney. Courtney is Duncan’s ex, and Gwen could basically feel Duncan stiffen. Like he’s some cat that just came into contact with a very large dog that’s a threat.

The other two is Geoff, Duncan’s childhood friend who moved during 7th grade. The other is Trent, the guy Gwen’s been seeing for the past couple of months.

Geoff is Bridgette’s boyfriend and Trent is now Bridgette’s cousin through marriage. (Trent’s dad married Bridgette’s aunt).

DJ is confused as to why Duncan is glaring at Courtney, and Courtney in turn is glaring right back at him.

DJ decides to lead the conversation because now Gwen and Duncan are distracted.

He can’t get to it because Trent asks Gwen what she was doing there, she says it’s for work. She asks what Trent’s doing there and he tells her that he’s family.

DJ tries it again but is once again interrupted when Courtney scoffs and rolls her eyes which just sets off Duncan because why not? They weren’t there for a job or anything!

After, like, 30 seconds of them yelling at each other Bridgette intervenes and says that their bad vibes is feeding the spirit.

Courtney reveals that she’s there to prove that their a scam, not because she knows but because she thinks all paranormal investigators are scammers.

Duncan, who always thoughts ghost were fake and people who actually hired them were idiots is now putting 110% effort into the job.

DJ is able to redirect the conversation back to Mr. Madden and his ghosts.

It’s been happening for years now, but it wasn’t until recently that it seems to have been amped up.

Gwen talks about energies.

Courtney scoffs again.

Duncan says they should kill Courtney and offer her up to appease the spirit.

Mr. Madden eventually has to leave because he got a call to go into town because of business or whatever.

So now it’s a full night of investigation with Courtney constantly interfering by being right about them being fakes.

Luckily no one is taking her seriously but it’s started to make Gwen nervous that Duncan might go too far and eventually the truth of the scam will come out.

Obviously the more the night goes on the more romance happens between Courtney and Duncan.

Oh no they get locked in a room. Duncan makes a comment about how she’s so desperate to get back together with him that she locked them in.

She says that Duncan is the one that’s not over her, so that’s why he suggested to investigate that room.

Ghost makes a sound

Courtney mocks Duncan “Oh so scary! Come on Duncan, I know you can do better than that.”

Duncan takes the compliment but tells her that it wasn’t him.

The entire night is filled with ghost activity as it soon becomes apparent that the ghost is very much real and Nocturne Paranormal Investigation has to come to terms that they are now in over their head because this spirit is starting to become down right violent.  

Duncan and Courtney makeout at one point during the night. They would go further but the ghost is a cock block.

[clearlydiamondz]

Loyalty to Royalty

Erik!Stevens x OC

Part Five

- - - - - - - - - -  

Princess Imani was the black sheep of her family, never really fitting the female royal type. When an arranged marriage between Prince   N'Jadaka and her is set up, she tries her hardest to get away... but she just can’t.

IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE: I HAVE UPDATED MY MASTERLIST SO IT'S EASIER TO NAVIGATE. SO CHECK IT OUT IF YOU HAVEN'T! IT'S ALSO PINNED

- - - - - - - - - -  

"I don't know whos face I want to ball up in my fist, Erik's or Amarah's." Imani snapped walking through the halls with her newly hired publicist and manager, Makiah. She walked behind her keeping up with every news article the presented the news typing away.

It's been weeks since she's been to Wakanda and everything has been going smoothly. Her step-mother and step-sister stayed out of her way, her and Erik seem to get closer, and her worries of Vibranium went away as it seemed to vanish in the wind.

That was until this morning.

As she was eating her breakfast, her phone started to ring of notifications with Erik's name in the headlines.

Prince N'Jadaka Ex Comes Forward, Trouble In Paradise?

Her face twitched at the news before she clicked on the article. A video popped up of a beautiful girl with a light skin complexion, and curly hair. It was a Tiktok.

"Yeah.. he called me asking if he could fly me out to Wakanda. Obviously in respect to Princess Imani I declined. He continued to tell me how much he missed me but honestly that was a bridge I burned long ago."

Arianna Cope was her name.

She stood up calling Erik's phone but obviously no answer.

And to top it all off, fucking Oshana and Amarah.

It was believed that the two of them were going on a Vacation to Mexico but last minute plans changed to them going to New York. As her and Makiah were coming up ways to come up with damage control ideas, another notification came up.

The City Kambaho Is Now Willing to Trade, and so is Wakanda?

"No.. no no no no no." she stood up looking at her phone. "What the fuck have y'all done. What the actual fuck have you done!?" she yelled in horror as she seen the video.

"Princess Imani, let's the put the phone down and take it one step at a time." Makiah said, but she couldn't. She played the video,

"As we all know both Wakanda and Kambaho are greatly armed with the material known as Vibranium. We also know how important this could be for trading with not only America but with other nations who are possibly willing to trade with us. We no longer want to be in the shadows of what our strength can do, and we call to our sister nation to help support those that are in need."

Amarah looked at the screen with a smile as everyone asked her a bunch of questions. The screen with black as her eye started to twitch. She stood up making a B-Line straight to her fathers office, where she knew he would be.

And here we are in present time. As she was going to cross the garden room, she saw Erik running towards her. "Erik I swear on every linage of ancestors I have don't you-"

"It's not true. I promise it isn't." he said running towards her. "I jumped on a flight just to let you know this, I would not do something like this to jeopardize your future." he said, damn near out of breath. She looked over his face to see that he was genuine, but looks could be deceiving.

"Prove it." He pulled out his phone showing that she was the one that called first.

"In the call she was telling me how she missed me and that she wanted to be together. I admit, before I came to Wakanda I wanted a relationship but she didn't. Once she got wind that I was royalty and I moved on, obviously she wanted to be a clout chaser."

"That doesn't prove nothing. She could have called you first but you initiated first. And there is audio of you." Makiah said as he looked at her in confused.

"Okay first of all, who the hell are you?"

"That's our publicist and our manager who's going to be saving your ass, so show her all of your respect please." Imani snapped at him. "Show me other proof." he sighed not knowing any other proof but then he remembered.

"I have a screen-recording of her turning me down. " she had her palm out as he went through old videos before finding it. He handed her his phone as she read through the text-messages. She looked at him before cringing.

"Jesus.. that's sad." she handed him the phone as his fascial expression dropped.

"You really didn't have to say all that." she looked back at Makiah before asking.

"What can we do to fix this?"

"If this is true, that means that she could have edited the audio. We could hire an audio specialist to clear the audio that was recorded. He would then have to put out a public statement explaining how it's chopped, and Erik put out a public video on his side of the story. I can easily write that up for him." she said as she nodded.

"You get started on that, I on the other hand have to deal with some other bull-crap. You-" she pointed towards him. "Are coming with me." she said.

"I'll be getting right on that Imani." And with that, Makiah ran back down the hall with to her office. Imani handed him her tablet that she was holding as he looked at the article in shock.

"Why would they do this? The Wakanda council will set hell for this?" he told her as she opened the door to her fathers office. "No idea, but most definitely will be having a meeting for every party involved." she stated as her dad looked up at the screen.

"Imani I-"

"Dad. It's not your fault. Just get them on a plane back to Wakanda." she stated as he looked at her confused.

"Why Wakanda?" he asked her.

"I'm taking initive and we will all personally take accountability for this mishap and you will explain to them what your next steps are on fixing this." she demanded him as he scoffed..

"Hold on, you just told me that it wasn't my fault. Now I have to take accountability for what they did?"

"Yes because that is your WIFE and the Queen! When you decided to marry the back stabbing manipulative women you signed up for taking full accountability of everything she does as her HUSBAND and KING!" she yelled at him. "The country of Wakanda is our one and only true ally and whatever she just did, just had the possibility of messing it all up." she lowered her tone. He looked shock at the threatening voice but she did not care.

"So yes, we are going to Wakanda and we are fixing this mess. Wakanda deserves our loyalty and you know this, and I do too." she snapped at him. She turned and looked at Erik.

"Prince, please explain to my king how detrimental this could be for my people." Erik cleared his throat before speaking.

"Because Wakanda helps regulate and distribute your country's share of vibranium, we will have all rights to simply stop production. This could mean your economy market will crash, leaving you defenseless against other nations if they do decide to attack us for vibranium." Erik says as her father sighed rubbing his temples.

"Like I said, we are fixing this. Get your apology ready and decide how you will tell the nations how your step-daughter has no authority to make decisions for this country, or Wakanda." she told him.

"Imani, I do this she will leave." he said as Imani scoffed.

"Are you seriously considering not doing it for a woman who went behind your back and put your people in jeopardy? Father if she decides to leave you over this, this just proves her motive of marrying you in the first place." she stated.

"I don't get my paranoia from no one. You taught me why I should fear this."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Imani sat down next to Erik in the Council room, as she stared back at T'Challa who sat in his throne, and he looked pissed right a long with Queen Ramonda. The council of Wakanda looked even more angry.

"I would first like to start off and says that me as well as the rest of the citizens of Wakanda is very disappointed in the actions that transpired over the course of the day." he stated as Imani hung her head low.

"Now, we do acknowledge that some people are more to blame than others, but the fact that you could come and apologize for any acts of betrayal that you guys may have caused. Princess Imani, we and the council appreciate you initiative to come to talk to us so we have decided to hear you out, but those who have done the damage is not here." T'Challa stated as Imani stood up and cleared her throat.

"Permission to speak." he nodded. "King T'Challa, I-"

"We have never used formals before, let's not start now." he chuckled as she nodded.

"Challa, first I would like to apologize on behalf of my father and his wife, and his step-daughter. As you know, my mother's death took a toll on my father more than he can admit and he's doing unwell. As you know, our loyalty as a country is with you and the Wakandians and we will never sway from that. We are working right now to get this fixed as we speak." Imani spoke. Queen Ramonda looked her in the eyes, as if telling her she was okay.

"I would further more like to explain that this is not in a state of where they think this will help benefit the world, but in act of greediness. His wife knew the dangers of exposing the world of our ability with vibranium, and out of spite went to America. I do not and have not recognize her as my Queen, as my queen and mother is long gone." she stated. T'Challa looks at the council as they still stared at her with mixed emotions.

"This is your King and your families. You speak of them like you don't associate yourselves with them." M'Baku states.

"That's because I don't." she sighed looking down. "Look, I say this from the heart and not because I'm trying to play clean up. Every choice that I have made is the betterment of my country. And those choices are influenced by those older and wiser than me. Every ruling, every law, everything has been influenced by my father, my mother, and even you. I ran through these halls with Challa and Shuri for more than I can remember. My mother would have never taken Wakanda for granted as she too was a child of Wakanda."

She tried so hard not to cry, but the state of her people was at hand. The severity of her love for her country showed as she tried to hold back her tears but she couldn't help but let a few drop.

"I hope that we can be forgiven." she finished, as her voiced break.

Erik saw her and realized that they had more in common than they think. Not the herb, not that they are getting married. But the love and protection of their own kind. Looking at her in pain, knowing that she her country could be in potential danger. He had to say something.

"Can I say something real quick." Erik said raising his hand as the council looked at him, a tad bit shocked. Hell, even Imani did.

"I will say, these past couple of months have been a tad bit challenging for the both of us due to some... unforeseen circumstances." he said throwing a little shade at the council. "But, I can say that within these past few months and getting to know her is that her nation comes first. She has mentioned to me on plenty of times where she stated that the distribution of vibranium was against her wishes. She has no fault in this." he stated as the council looked at her.

"Furthermore, and Challa and Auntie can account for this. Both his wife and step daughter is just weird as hell." he stated making Imani chuckle through her tears. That was just so outta line but also the perfect timing.

"Meaning?" one of the council elders asked looking at Ramonda and T'Challa.

"We did notice how resilient they were being about their step-daughter being the true queen of Kambaho instead of Princess Imani." T'Challa said as Erik scoffed.

"More than that. They were acting like I should be the one marrying Amarah instead, how she wasn't fit to be a queen, how her father shouldn't trust her." Erik continued.

"Princess Imani, is this true?" The elder asked her as she nodded.

"Yes. That's why I believe this was an act of retaliation. Those statements never came from our kingdom." she stated. The elders looked at each other before one said,

"Well then why are we questioning her. This does not seem like it's her fault."

"It doesn't matter who's fault it is." M'Baku said standing up. "Princess Imani, I am sure you'll make a fine queen. I admire your bravery but this does not fix what was said." he pointed at T'Challa. "We now have world leaders expecting T'Challa to hand over the vibranium and obviously we cannot do so." he stated as Imani closed her eyes sighing.

"We are working on-"

"Don't mean to cut you off but what can you truly do. You don't even have your title yet to be making decisions for the country yet, and it seems like King Z'Kiri has his heads in the clouds."

"M'Baku there is no reason for your to be standing up and towering her like that." Erik said stepping close as M'Baku clicked his tongue. She never saw Erik angry, but his eyes showed every emotion.

"Well she doesn't seem that afraid if she's here playing king." he stated making Imani roll her eyes.

"Then I will." T'Challa said shrugging his shoulders. "Like you stated, King Z'Kiri doesn't seem like he's in his right mind to making decisions, he's not here defending himself or apologizing on their behalf, but she is." T'Challa replied standing up. That's when the ideas in her head started going.

"Erik.. you should be there." she said out loud. "Your word over hers as the next ruler in line, and as King will have a lot more effect than hers considering she isn't royal blood. It will have even more of an effect because you are blood cousins with Challa and a child of Wakanda also." she stated looking at him.

"Then if that's the case you should be there too." Okoye said. "Your mother was also a child of Wakanda and you are the rightful ruler to the throne. That's three words against what? A step child? And it's the black panther and the golden jaguar making this statement." Okoye chuckled then sneakily winked at you. You looked at T'Challa.

"Then.. it is settled."

As everyone was dismissed, it was now only her and Erik in the room. She sat down on the steps as he sat next to her. "Ya know ya really did good. Not surprised but thought you should know." he told her looking at her.

"Thank you Erik. I also wanted to say I appreciate you standing up for me." she whispered the last part playing with her fingers. She then looked up at him. Out of all this time they've known each other, he has never seen her been shy or cry. More than showing that she was showing her vulnerability to him.

"It's just- I never had someone stand up for me. I'm always standing up for myself so this feeling is different." she whispered looking him in the eyes. He looked her in the eyes before smiling at her. The damn smile.

"I told you, I got you." he whispered back looking at her. He was most definitely going in for a kiss when her phone ring. Looking at it, she saw that it was Makiah.

"Oh would you look at that." she chuckled. "It was shown that the audio had traces of editing software." she smirked at him as he smacked his teeth.

"I told you." making her chuckle. "Well you're not in the light yet. You still need to put on a public statement about the situation." she said standing up as he looked up at her. "Now, I need to go confront dear father for not coming." she said. He could obviously see the anger in her face but lord did she look sexy while mad. She had her hand out for him to grab to help him up. He stood up, a tad bit close as she was faced with his chest, breathing in his cologne.

Damn he smelled good too..

"A bit close don't you think?" she whispered looking up at him.

"I don't see you moving." he snapped back at her, moving even closer closing any room the two had between them.

"Maybe I don't want to move."

"Maybe I want to be close to you." he said placing his hands on her the sides of her face softly as he traced her lips with his thumb. She bit her lip in anticipation. That was all he needed to make the first move.

He leaned in placing his lips on hers, with her gladly accepting his advances. She grabbed the bottom of his shirt bringing him even closer as the kiss became heavier. His arms dropped from her face as he kneeled down, still kissing, and wrapping his arms around her thighs and lifting her up into the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and a hand through his locs as he moaned into the kissed.

"Ahem." They heard someone clear their throat in the door way. There T'Challa

"Well, I owe Shuri and mom two hundred bucks."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"I need everyone in the council room." Imani stated as she walked into the living quarters to see the three of them in there.

"For what?"

"We have some visitors."

"I hope you seen the conference set up in New York." Oshana claimed standing up as Imani nodded.

"I have." she said looking directly at her.

"It seems like the Americans love me." Amarah said with a smirk. She look down with a chuckle.

"Yes, congratulations." she stated as they looked at her weirdly. They were about to chastise her before she looked at her father.

"Prince N'Jadaka, King T'Challa and Queen Mother is here to discuss some exciting news with you guys." she stated looking at them as Oshana looked at my father with a smirk.

"See.. I told you they'll catch a long." she than looked back at Imani. "Don't get your head too full of ego and pride." she walked passed her as the two walked in front of Imani and her father excited about what the conversation may be. Her father looked at her, but she showed no emotion to him at all.

As they walked into the council room, they thought that they would be faced with greetings and hugs, but when they saw the three of them were three angry monarchs and some scary Dora Milaje. Their excited faces were then changed with confused and concerned looks.

"King T'Challa." the both bowed at his presence but her shook his head.

"Please.. take a seat." he pointed at the chairs as they all sat down in front of him. Imani took her seat next to Erik.

"So you may be wondering why we are calling this meeting with just the few of us." he told them leaning back in his chair.

"Well from Imani, you guys had some exciting news to tell us about the vibranium. We thought it was necessary-"

"Is that what you told them?" Ramonda asked with a little laugh as Imani shrugged.

"I had to tell a little white lie or they wouldn't have come." Imani confessed than turned to look at them. "That's not what they are here for." she finished off.

"I don't think you guys understand the magnitude of your actions of going to America and telling them we would be willing to trade vibranium." King T'Challa said, his voice was calm but his deamonr was nothing of it.

"You have not only put your own country in danger, but you have also put Wakanda in danger." Erik said looking at them. The realized how this conversation was going, they ended up going in defense mode.

"We apologize but we only did what we thought was best for both countries and-"

"No you didn't." Imani spoke up as they looked at her. Their face pleaded for her to remain quiet but she was long passed keeping her mouth shut. "Oshana I told you in my fathers office months ago why we shouldn't trade with them, yet you went behind our backs. Father, did I not?" she looked at her father as he looked between the two women.

"Imani did warn her, so did I." he admitted as Ramonda scoffed.

"For the love all ancestors." she sighed rubbing her forehead.

"Not only that, but King Z'Kiri the fact that your daughter had to come plead with us not to take action against this, and you as KING and her Father wasn't there to defend your country not only shows us how you think of her, but the kind of King you are." T'Challa told him as her father looked up.

"And I am forever grateful for that, but you have to understand, my wife and step-daughter knows no better." he stated. "That is why my heir goes to my only blood daughter, the daughter that has been trained since birth to do such." he admitted as Oshana scoffed.

"Excuse me!?"

"We are not here to fix any family issues that you guys may have. We are only here to talk about the mess that two of them have caused." Ramonda stated.

"T'Challa, Imani and I will be visiting the states tomorrow and holding our our conference in Oakland at the Outreach Mission there. We will disregard any of your statements made in New York, and let it be known that Wakanda has no intent on distributing any vibranium in the near future." Erik stated, Imani looked at her father.

"Father, as King, would you like me to also speak on your behalf and recant her statement?" Imani asked as her father sighed.

"I've told you before, I trust your judgement." he said with a whisper as Oshana scoffed.

"You just let that girl walk all over you." she shook her head.

"No, let me say this." Ramonda said as Oshana looked at her, scared for about what she has to say. "Any decision that Imani has made or have been making whether it has to do with your kingdom, or her marriage with N'Jadaka, or anything else for that matter is because she has been heavily influenced. Influenced by those who are wiser and older so when she makes a decision, damn well it is planned to a T." Ramonda stated.

"You doubt her, you're doubting those who are wiser and older."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

@youcanttouchthis1001 @softleosworld @bethy-baby @automaticdragonmugalien @mscarter213 @lynaye1993 @etherealluvrr @xsweetdellzx @ajenae @babbydollaaassignn @forevermoremagcon @babbydollaaassignn @ziayamikaelson @blmcd57110 @kaireads2020 @ts1mp0ne @luvvvjada @cozyashhh @ziirowe @blkmystery @princessmel-1995 @itsophiebby @thiswasnevermylifefromtony @trippyscotch @determinednot2fall @metra873 @ravynnn-12 @meeeeep5 @ts1mp0ne @jordyn-wkndafvr @nccu-rnc @christinabae @kanilive @tthatkidmimi @sourbabynaee @ejs398 @nanii2x @hippieonboard @reneinii @royaler1999

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

Find the Word Tag Game!

@lungs-and-gills MARKO!!! Thanks for tagging me 🥰 This is my most favorite game.

My words are tired, weapon, red, and pierce. These are all coming from Blue like don't forget about me a childhood friends to estranged almost lovers to rivals to Best Friends (remix edition!) to lovers but for real this time original novel.

Tired:

"Nashery Owens, just where have you been?"

He jumps, but it's only Jo standin' on his bed with her dolls all around her and her hands on her hips. Her hair is thick, dark, and wired into frizzy braids on either side of her head. She's got freckles like him but hers are neat and contained over the bridge of her nose like the kids on TV, not like the explosion that's all over his face and shoulders and throat.

She's round, even for an almost five-year-old. Her birthday's comin' up right before Thanksgiving and she won't shut up about how that means she'll finally be old enough to follow him along to school. That means takin' the bus together, shooing her off during lunch, dodging her at recess, and then getting back on the bus with her at the end of he day. He's tired just thinking about it.

"You know that ain't my name."

Weapon: None 😩

Red:

Nash blinks at him. "What did Jo say?"

His sister says a lot of things, most of which he filters out until she says something that actually matters. Weeks can pass that way.

"She— On the bus? About— About us?" His cheeks flare red but he screws up his mouth and holds Nash's stare like he dared himself not to look away. "About us kissing and stuff."

"Oh." Nash does recall her going on about that, but he hadn't taken her seriously. Looking at Teddy now, he wonders if he should have. Or if at least he should have checked with Teddy sooner to make sure he wasn't. "She was just messing around."

"Yeah, I know, but did her saying it bother you?"

"No, why would it?"

Teddy's embarrassment burns away to a familiar irritation.

"I don't know, maybe because lot of people get all weird about guys kissing and I didn't know if you were one of them."

"Oh. Well, I guess I'm not. Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Weirded out by guys kissing?"

Teddy clams up, searching Nash's eyes through clear lenses. He takes a breath and pushes it out. Steps back. "No. See you tomorrow."

Nash watches him spin on his heel and strike off down the road with a peculiar twist in his belly. Like Teddy was tryin' to tell him something important and he just wasn't quick enough to pick it up.

Pierce:

It’s never been this bad before.

Something sharp like fire pierces his chest and he cries out, more a whimper than a shout. He curls up to protect himself but moving only makes everything worse until he’s spinning and even the floor holding him up feels distant.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Uncle Aaron’s coming. You’re gonna be okay.”

That’s Teddy’s voice but he shouldn’t be here. That’ll only set Daddy off all over again and then… Well, he’d take it out on Nash like usual, but he doesn’t think there’s any more he could take so maybe he’d just go after Teddy direct, or even Jo.

He fights to open his eyes, to tell Teddy to get out, to run, to hide, anything. Anything but be here for Daddy to find. But his eyes are swollen shut. Try as he might, he can’t open them, can’t see. He can’t move his arm neither and a bone deep shock of pain shoots up his leg and into his hip every time he so much as twitches.

Now the crying is coming from him, crawling out of his chest in great heaves, and it hurts, oh God it hurts. He’s never been strong enough to stop Daddy, but he could at least stand between him and Jo. Now he can’t even stand. He can’t even open his eyes.

Tagging (with no pressure): @arionawrites @thoughts-of-a-trying-tree @emelkae @jmrothwell @dontjudgemeimawriter @theschoolofathena @cataclysmicwriting

Your words are: dream, hope, crush, and fail

[serenitydiviness]

Line Without Hook- Spock x OC

FF.NET || AO3

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: Six years ago, Yeoman Serena Zuriñe embarrassed herself by giving a drunken confession to her mentor, none other than one Commander Spock. Now she finds herself face to face with the Vulcan man she had planned on avoiding the rest of her life. What could possibly go wrong? slow burn. Fake marriage. Spock/OC

Chapter 2:

The quiet moment between Serena and Spock ended. The captain and doctor were heading towards them.

“Mr. Spock, we need a bit of assistance.” Captain Kirk said. 

Serena raised a brow and looked at Spock. 

“How can I be of assistance,  Captain?” He asked. 

“We’ll be adding a new member to our crew besides our lovely Miss Zuriñe here.” Dr. McCoy said with a grin. 

Serena rolled her eyes. “Would that new member be Dr. Scott?” 

“Why yes. Are you perhaps a fortune teller, Miss Zuriñe?” Dr. McCoy asked.

“No. You’re just a little too excited for my tastes.” Serena replied, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Your friend is very–”

“Troublesome. I know.” 

“Doctor, you and the Captain can woo poor Mrs. Hamilton into approving the paperwork without me.”

“But Spock, she loves you because you’re such a tall gentleman.” 

“Oh, but Bones, you have that Southern charm you like to boast so much about. How could I deny you your moment with Mrs. Hamilton.” Spock responded dryly. 

Serena had to turn away to hide her laughter. Spock had a terrible habit of making her laugh at the most inopportune moments.

“Everything okay, Miss Zuriñe?” Captain Kirk asked.

“Coughing fit.” She replied, straightening up. “Unfortunately, I have more of a human immune system.”

“I see.” Captain Kirk nodded.

‘“You make the worst jokes at the worst times.”

“I’m being logical.”

“Logical, my ass.”

“Pardon the interruption, but we don’t speak Vulcan.” Dr. McCoy said.

“No worries. Spock was just letting me know he’d go assist you.” Serena replied.

Spock raised a brow.

“You can’t disappoint Mrs. Hamilton.” Serena nodded. 

“Cunning.”

“I learned from the best.” 

****

Spock shot Serena a raised brow before looking at Jim and bones. "Let us get this impulsive act over with." He said. 

"Have fun!" Serena waved, a little too proud of herself. And frankly, he was also a little proud. 

"We will," Jim said with a wink. 

Serena gave a flat expression before turning back to watch the ship. 

"You know," Jim said as soon they moved further from Serena. "I've never seen you so ruffled and tense, Mr. Spock."

"Illogical," Spock said. 

"If you insist, Mr. Spock." Jim nodded. 

***

“Oh, Sere!” Annaleigh called.

“What have you done that has required wooing an old woman in administration?” Serena asked flatly. 

“They mentioned they needed another doctor, and I simply told them if they wanted another doctor, I am available,” Annaleigh said.

Serena pinched the bridge of her nose. “You are quite pleased with yourself.”

“The girls would have jumped if they were me.” 

Serena looked at her for a moment. “Humans.” She muttered. It was a relief to have someone on the ship that she knew. Spock was there—yes–but that whole situation with him still brought her dread, even if he was still willing to be friends. 

“You know you’re happy  to have me come along.”

“You are quite pleased that your flirting got you this far.”

“Oh, hush.” 

Serena said nothing and went back to her thoughts.

“I had been trying to get on the Enterprise as soon as I heard that you were transferring.’ Annaleigh said.

“Why?”

“We’re sisters, Sere. I can’t leave you to deal with your demons alone.”

“So because we are extremely co-dependent?” 

Annaleigh laughed. “That too.”

“Logically… Thank you, Anna.” 

“Always. That’s what family is for.” 

Serena nodded.

***

“Mrs. Hamilton!” Jim greeted all too excitedly as Bones, Spock, and himself entered the office of the woman they all affectionately knew as Mrs. Hamilton.

“Is that little Jimmy?” the 70-year-old woman explained.

“Of course.” Jim nodded. “I brought my friends, of course.”

“Oh yes! My little Lenny and my handsome Mr. Spock!” Mrs. Hamilton cooed as she stood to give both Jim and Bones hugs before attempting the Vulcan greeting. “How are my handsome boys?”

“We’re good. Had to see our favorite lady before we left.” Bones said with a laugh.

“You’re all too sweet! I should be your second favorite lady at this point!” She wagged her fingers at the three of them. “My niece Peggy has some pretty friends! She’s friends with a nice Vulcan girl! I can introduce you, Spock.” 

“Thank you for the consideration, Mrs. Hamilton; however, I am not ‘dating’ at the moment,” Spock said. 

“A shame! How can I help you, my boys?” Mrs. Hamilton asked with a sweet smile.

“Well, we’ve recently gotten a toxicologist onboard, which is always welcome. However, I’ve been worried about Lenny here. We just met Dr. Annaleigh Scott, and, well, we were hoping she would be available to join us. As extra hands. After Lenny is only one man.” Jim said with his signature smile.

“Oh, little Anna!” Mrs. Hamilton clapped her hands. “She’s one of my Peggy’s friends. I can get that set up right away. She had submitted paperwork to get stationed. I was about to search for any openings, but if my Enterprise darlings need her, even better!”

“If possible,” Spock said, giving Jim and Bones an annoyed look. “Can we have it done before 1400 hours?”

“Oh, ill see what I can do for you, my darlings.” Mrs. Hamilton giggled. 

“See, this is while you’ll always be our favorite lady Doris.” Bones said as he hugged her. 

“I still need you to make me some grandbabies.” Mrs. Hamilton said with a laugh.

“We’ll get right on it.” Jim nodded. 

“Go, relax a bit. I’ll call you when the paperwork is ready,” Mrs. Hamilton shooed them off.

“Before I forget.” Jim handed her a small bag. “I brought you back some tea.”

“Oh, my darling boy!” Mrs. Hamilton cooed before kissing Jim on the cheek. “Thank you!”

“Of course, Doris.” Jim nodded before turning to his friends. “Shall we?”

Spock nodded before giving Mrs. Hamilton the Vulcan salute. 

“See you in a bit!” Bones waved as they walked out. 

****

Spock looked at Jim. “I told you my presence was unnecessary.”

“Were you not going to say hi to Doris?” Jim asked.

Spock hummed. He probably would have stopped by the old woman’s office. She reminded him of his human grandmother. Of course, he’d never disclose that tidbit to anyone. “I would have greeted her regardless.”

“Logically.” Bones teased. “So, what should we do now?”

“We could go find Dr. Scott and Miss. Zuriñe.” Jim offered. 

“I believe you two owe Mr. Scott a toast,” Spock said quickly.

Jim crossed his arms and looked at Spock, curious. Spock stared back expressionlessly. Jim opened his mouth but soon closed it. 

“Let’s go meet with Scotty,” Jim said after a moment, breaking the staring contest. He was overprotective, but Spock had just reunited with a dear friend. The idea of the captain or doctor flirting with her gave him a familiar discomfort that he was not interested in feeling. If he could direct them elsewhere, it would be for the best.

“Of course.” Bones nodded as they started walking off.

Spock felt himself still on edge. He glanced to the hanger and saw Serena and Annaleigh from the corner of his eye. It was good to see her again, but it seemed she still had him confused. They were friends until she wanted something more and then abruptly disappeared. 

Would she try her disappearing act on the Enterprise?

****

Serena glanced up, having caught the eye of Spock as he walked off. Her shoulders slumped as she tilted her head. She wondered for a moment what would have happened if she had stayed long enough that fateful morning she left. She shook her head. There was no point in living on what-if scenarios. 

“Penny, for your thoughts?” Annaleigh asked.

“Nothing worth voicing concerns about,” Serena replied. 

“Oh, there you are!” Serena and Annaleigh turned to see the woman from earlier, Janice heading towards them with two other women in tow. 

“Janice, right?” Annaleigh said.

“Yes! I wanted to introduce you, ladies, to some friends!” Janice nodded.  “This is Lieutenant Nyota Uhura and Nurse Christine Chapel!”

“It’s lovely to meet you, ladies.”  Nyota stuck out her hand. 

Annaleigh, ever the social butterfly, took the hand happily. “It's a pleasure! I’m Doctor Annaleigh Scott, and this is Science Officer Serena Zuriñe. Serena is Vulcan, so she doesn’t touch people.”

“You’re Vulcan?” Christine looked at Serena curiously. Serena could see a very sudden shift in the blonde woman. Something about her felt incredibly hostile. 

“Yes.” Serena nodded.

“You don’t look very Vulcan. Are you sure you’re not just human?” Christine asked innocently. 

Serena looked at Christine, exhaustion slowly building. She adjusted her hair slightly, revealing her Vulcan ears. “I am Vulcan.” She replied flatly. She appreciated that the two other women in question looked horrified by their friend’s action. 

Annaleigh, on the other hand, had a smile that Serena was all too familiar with. “Serena!” She said in a sing-song voice. “I’m so glad we’re here. Are we gonna meet your mentor again?”

“Her mentor?” Janice looked at Serena curiously.

“Yes, back in our early days in the academy, she had a Mr. Spock, I think. I can’t say his last name. They were such good friends.” Annaleigh nodded.

“You knew Mr. Spock,” Nyota said excitedly.

Serena nodded. “He was my advisor during my first two years at the academy—”

“And one of her best friends. I think he was closer to you than I was.”

“He had a similar shared experience. It is only logical we bonded.” Serena nodded.

Annaleigh smiled in victory. Serena did not know why Annaleigh engaged in pettiness, but Serena figured it was an act of ‘kindness.’ Serena shook her head.

“What is it like on the deck,” Serena asked., quickly changing the conversation. 

“Oh, it's fabulous! We have so many things! The bars and stores are always fun. Since the enterprise is larger, it sometimes acts like a luxury cruise line.” Janice explained. 

“Fascinating,” Serena said with a nod. 

“Yes, luckily, for the next few years, it will be used for purely scientific purposes. We’re hoping to stop on Theosis V on this next trip!” Nyota nodded.

“Theosis V has an abundance of medical herbs. We currently only know about the Tholia Artea, which provides instant relief the same way a pain killer would; however, if the dosage is too low, it will cause nausea. If the dosage is too high, then it can be fatal. Most medical staff cannot administer it unless they have shown a consistent 100% accuracy rate.” Serena said.

“Plant Nerd,” Annnaleigh said with a laugh. 

“Thank you for the compliment, Doctor.” 

***

After what seemed like an eternity, it was almost boarding time. Serena exuded an air of calmness; however, deep down, she dreaded every moment. She looked at Annaleigh and marveled as she almost instantly managed to chat her way into friendships. 

Part of her wished for that skill, but logically, she did not see too much of a need. Annaleigh would likely coerce her into the interaction at some point.

“Sere!” Annaleigh called.

“Yes, Annaleigh?” Serena asked. 

“Come meet Hikaru; he’s Nyota’s hunk,” Annaleigh said.

Serena rolled her eyes and walked over to where Annaleigh, Nyota, and Hikaru were.

“A pleasure,” Serena said with the traditional Vulcan greeting.

“Serena, right?” Hikaru asked.

“Yes.” She confirmed. 

“It’ll be nice to have you aboard! Annaleigh says that you are a botanist.”

“As a hobby, yes.”

“Oh, you’ll love the lab I work in! We have a few samples of carnivorous plants that are notoriously toxic.” Hikaru nodded.

“What kind?” Serena asked, eyes lighting up with excitement.

“We have one from Argon VI—”

“Arachne Carnivorous flowers?” 

“You’re familiar with those?” Nyota asked with a laugh. “They scare almost everyone on the ship because they’re toxic.”

“They only release toxins under deep root stress. Hikaru, when we board, would you mind showing me them?” Serena asked 

“Of course! It’s always a pleasure to share my plants with a fellow enthusiast!” Hikaru nodded.

***

Spock stared, impressed, as Mrs. Hamilton walked over with a PADD. “As requested, with 20 minutes to spare.” She said.

“Doris, I could kiss you!” Bones said with an excited grin. 

“Oh, don’t flirt with me. My husband will be picking me up soon.” Mrs. Hamilton said with a wink.

“Mrs. Hamilton, as always, exemplary work,” Spock said.

“I have to keep you on your Vulcan toes!” Mrs. Hamilton giggled. 

Spock nodded, offering her a rare half-smirk in appreciation. 

“Well, don’t let me keep you! You'll have to be off in an hour!” Mrs. Hamilton said. “Go on. Get. Lord knows what new adventures you’ll have.” 

“Thank you, Doris,” Jim said, hugging her. “Next time, we’ll do dinner and take you on a trip.’

“Promises, Promises.” Mrs. Hamilton said, hugging him back.

Spock nodded once before looking at Bones and Jim. “I believe everyone is boarding. It would do us best to get situated.”

“Of course, Mr. Spock.” Jim nodded as he began walking.

“Be safe, and bring me back some grandbabies!” Mrs. Hamilton called. 

Spock shook his head. ‘I will never understand the desire that the elderly has with the young bringing progeny.” 

“It's human mortality. I’m surprised Lady Amanda has not gotten on your case about giving her a grandchild.”

“She has. I fail to understand why.”

“Wow, Spock. You haven’t given your poor mother a grandchild to coo over?” Bones shook his head in a manner that indicated he was teasing more than anything 

“I have not.”

“After the incident on  Capela IV, I’ve found myself wanting a little Leonard to run around.”

“I am sure.” Spock raised his brow at them and shook his head. “You two are still absolutely pleased with yourselves for that incident.”

“A great chief named after us is an honor, Spock,” Jim said with a grin. “Although having a little Jim to run around with a little Bones would be nice. If you had one, we could raise three dashing sons together.”

“A mini Spock. Wouldn’t that be cute?” Bones nodded with an all too amused expression. 

“I feel pity for your future children. They will be raised by such illogical fathers.” 

“Hey!”

“I’d be a fabulous father!” 

Spock rolled his eyes. “I believe, gentlemen, it is boarding time. We will have to retrieve our new Doctor.” 

“Oh, let me do it.” Bones said. 

“By all means,” Spock said.

**** 

“Oh, Dr. Scott!” Bones called, looking for the brown-haired woman.

“You called, Handsome?” Annaleigh asked as she walked up to him. 

“Wanted to welcome you aboard personally.” Bones said with a laugh.

“Well, thank you, Dr. McCoy.”

“Leonard or Bones will do, Doctor.”

“You must call me Anna. How about after we board we have a celebrator drink. I have a nice whisky hidden in Sere’s bag.”

“Of course. I hope you packed enough.”

“Sere and I are the same size, so I didn’t need to,” Anna said. “See you, Bones.”

****

“What happened?” Serena asked as Annaleigh walked over.

“I’ll be boarding as part of the medical team,” Annaleigh replied with a grin.

“Humans.” Serena rolled her eyes. 

“You love me.”

“I stand by my statement.” 

[34goingon9]

Cheeseburger in Paradise

This story always gets me. The nature of its premise is so silly and wildly bizarre to the point that it’s almost comedic, except for the fact that it’s one of the scariest memories I have with my dad. It’s one of those stories that you just can’t make up.

My memory begins in the kitchen. My dad must have just gotten home from the bar in the evening around dinner time and he was one of the drunkest I had ever seen him. Many times I don’t think I realized completely the alcoholism and this time I thought he was being funny… until he wasn’t.

I come downstairs to my dad “cooking a cheeseburger.” When I say cooking a cheeseburger, I’m talking waving an overly oiled, greasy, sizzling hot pan at a complete 90 degree vertical angle with a handmade ball of meat slap-dab in the middle. American cheese is oozing down the sides burning a char in the corners of the overly processed slice of dairy. Scorching hot oil is ricocheting off the pan at his face and in every direction like a shotgun blast. My dad’s arm is conducting the cooking show like the inflatable figures outside of car dealerships instead of a well orchestrated symphony. Gordon Ramsay would NOT have been impressed.

“What are you doing?” I would ask my dad playfully.

“I’m CoOkiNg a ChEeSeBurGeR 🍔 “ My dad would respond slurring his words as he confidently waves the metal pan around like a flag.

This exchange would continue back and forth several times. Each time, things would escalate further somehow. Not always aware and somewhat naive towards the extent and unpredictability of my dad’s alcoholism, I remember giggling more and more at watching his performance and the way he was responding as he answered me. I think I even was trying to film him on my new state of the art 2 megapixel cell phone because of how outrageous things looked. I could tell that I was starting to provoke him after a certain point of repeating the same things back and forth to one another with his tone becoming slightly more aggressive, but I did not realize how much I was poking the bear or when I had crossed the threshold of no return. Suddenly, the bottle cap flew off and my dad exploded like mentos in a coke bottle.

“THIS is what I’m FUCKING DOING!!”

At this moment my dad took his eyes off the pan and turned them towards me. They were hollow and black but they also seemed to possess the same fire that was heating the pan he was using. I remember as our eyes met, I felt both the color in my complexion and my over all soul drain down from the top of my head and out my feet like someone opened a valve pipe. In this moment I also began to RUN as I saw my dad lunge towards me as he screamed. I dodged out of the way at the last second before my dad managed to grab a loaf of bread behind me.

Having the advantage of being a traumatized competitive gymnast with an adrenaline rush and my contender being a belligerent, stumbling troll emerging from under the bridge.. I sprinted ahead of him up the stairs. I ran past my sister into her room who was oblivious to what had just unraveled downstairs and hid behind her desk in the corner of her room.

My dad’s footsteps can be heard stomping up the stairs like some kind of “ fee fi fo fum!” in the stillness as I awaited his presence in fear.

He storms past my sisters room which is the first one you pass as you get up to the second floor. The two of us DID NOT get along and never had, but I can’t blame the ways she resented me because of the way I became her responsibility. Nonetheless, she knew her job was to protect me and she did so to the best of her angsty pre-teen ability.

My dad continues to pass my bedroom and turns the corner to his room. I cannot physically see him but I can sense his demeanor and movements like a looking glass and I know time is running out like grains of sand. After a short time of a drunkenly thorough search, he continues to move back through the hall and retrace his steps. I can feel him look into my room like a predator which is like a small cubby. He quickly moves on to the last room and finds that third times a charm.

I am frozen standing in the corner barricaded by my sister’s desk. My sister remains sitting propped on her bed interrupted by the hurricane that just came through her doors. My dad’s face appears in her doorway. He is standing there like the grim reaper but instead of being armed with a scythe, he has a death grip on his loaf of bread.

He sees me and makes a bee-line for it. My sister hops off the bed but my dad makes contact with me behind the desk before she can make the first interference. He screams his words that are still ringing in my ears like tinnitus from just moments earlier, only this time grabbing me and smothering the loaf of bread into my face as he viciously repeats ‘THIS is what he’s FUCKING doing.’

Natalija intercepts and somehow manages to pull my enormous and sloppy father off of me and ensures I can breathe. She puts herself in between us and is pushing him away with her arms outstretched and guiding him towards the door as she is yelling in utter hatred and frustration at him.

“GET OUT!!!! NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE!!! GO BACK TO THE BAR!!! GET OUT!! JUST GET OUT!!!!!”

I do not know why, but my dad listens to this and retreats back downstairs. The dust has by no means settled but the immediate threat is now at least removed from proximity. I am scared and I cannot stay as the risk is too high. My dad is unpredictable in every sense of the word, just like how he flipped at me just prior. There is a chance he could completely forget, or he could see me and immediately be set off again. I live in a household of Russian roulette and you never know when the bullet is going to go off in the chamber.

(Furthermore, though it’s a bit late to figure out how to fit into this story, I believe this was the night my dad was also taking wads of cash out of his wallet every five minutes and handing it to me. I think this added to the bizarre nature of his behavior and why I was particularly childish towards egging him on about “what he was doing.” Also, when I say wads of cash, this is not a childhood exaggeration. My dad had a high paying job and was able to be a functional alcoholic through his cocaine addiction. He had money and he always had plenty on him to spare just in case. My father was always generous with money and gifts to make up for his behavior but this night was not like that. I had probably amassed $1,000 completely unbeknownst to him for no reason. He just kept handing it to me like a broken ATM dispenser.)

Standing in my sister’s room, I am faced with a difficult decision but I know she is neither the target and able to assert herself in ways I cannot. I still have guilt towards leaving her that night, but soon after I must have called my best friend Jaime. I have no idea what was said in exchange, but it was without hesitation that her father arrived at my house to pick me up to spend the night with them. I faced the predicament where I could not go down the stairs and run the risk of my dad hearing me let alone know I was leaving. My trampoline was located below my sisters window, so I crawled out and jumped off the roof onto it. I can remember seeing Mike’s black Toyota Rav 4 off in the distance like a mirage but grass, not sand, was rubbing past my ankles as I ran towards safety that was thankfully not a hallucination or in my imagination.

I don’t remember the rest of this evening. I don’t know if any of us talked about what happened. I do know that the Spiegel’s home was a safe haven for me then and for years to come- even into present day. I mean that in the sense that they not just provided me safe shelter, but also showed me unconditional love and treated me like real family during a particularly sensitive time that I didn’t even understand how bad things were because it was my norm. Regardless, my dad cared more about his appearance to the world than my actual well-being and I remember the next morning being scared in anticipation towards his reaction. There were times where I had to leave overnight for my safety but would wake up berated by my father because in reality, I had exposed his secrets to the outside world which was a no-no. I do want to say this time my dad did not question this decision. This isn’t to say I got an apology either. Things were glazed over. Perhaps I got a sorry in the form of one of his coincidental next-day Bloomingdale hauls, but I don’t think that was even the case here. Either way, life resumed and it wouldn’t be long before the cycle repeated itself.

This memory is a painful one and has as much gaps as it has vividness.

Putting it down for now. But I did give him back all the cash.

[thefanfictionkingdom]

Okay. 😤 I’m reading this, I will be rereading this, and I will reread this again.

Two things came to mind during the first read-through.

Steve

Robin

What the FRACK?!

Okay, so that’s three things.

My first impression of this chapter: So, Steve and Robin are really just going to add more gasoline to that bridge they’re burning, huh?

Like, for real.

And, really, that’s it. That’s the summary of my comment. Like, I have opinions and then I have OPINIONS.

Let’s start with R and Robin. Most likely, my thoughts on them might not take as much space compared to the saga that is R and Steve and the R-Eddie-Steve conundrum.

So, first things first. R and Robin.

Yeah, Robin is definitely not going to win any “Best Friend of the Year” award. She’s just ready and willing to burn her bridges, huh?

Just like that.

There’s a part of me that’s glad that R called Robin out on not being a great friend or even a present friend. A vicious part of me is still waiting for R’s “Reason You Suck” speech to Robin. And I will be delightfully pleased to see Robin emotionally eviscerated and scarred by it. Yeah…I’m a vengeful and petty person and I am owning it.

I get the sense that R hasn’t gotten to that point where she’ll give Robin that “Reason You Suck” speech. But, it’s coming. It has to come. Especially when some part of Robin knows R’s right and there’s some guilt over Robin’s treatment of R.

The issue with Steve and Robin and their relationship/treatment of R is that R’s love is unconditional. Instead of treasuring her love and loyalty, they abuse it, take it for granted, because they know she’ll take whatever attention they’ll give her.

In a sense, R reminds me of Anne Elliot from Jane Austin’s Persuasion. She’s quiet, an introvert, and does what she can to make the people in her life happier. Meanwhile, the people in her life treat her horribly and couldn’t be bothered with her.

However, since Everlong is focused on R and her journey, things are going to change. Old friendships will be broken. New friendships will be forged. Old loves (if you can call it that) die and new loves blossom. I definitely can’t wait to see R come into her own and recognize her own worth. I would definitely enjoy seeing R blossom and make new friends. She’s definitely worth more than the scraps Robin and Steve throw at her. But, I digress.

Let’s face it, Robin is a terrible friend. The minute Nancy entered the picture, she dropped R like a hot potato. Instead of owning up to it, she pins the blame of their crumbling friendship on R.

Like, I get it. Friends do drift apart. It’s a fact of life. But instead of admitting that they’re drifting apart and either try to fix the friendship or just cut all ties, Robin just straight up blames it on R. Like, what the 🤬?!

Robin’s not as into the friendship as R because R has changed since the Upside Down? What kind of bullshit is that?! I would be more surprised if nobody came out of there with some form of PTSD or another.

But, okay, fine, Robin. If that’s the hill you want to die on, fine. You do you. But replacing R with Nancy? That’s an asshole move. Congratulations, Robin. You’re King Steve.

Rereading the scene between R and Robin broke my heart. I hate that R’s heart has been broken twice by the people who claim to love and care about her. Their actions say otherwise. I especially hate that, even after all of that, Robin (at least in this moment and the moments after) won’t feel the loss of her friendship with R.

Here’s the thing, though. When it comes to Nancy, she’s not the type to stick around once the shine of a new thing wears off.

I have to admit, when it comes to Stranger Things and the fandom, I’m more of a fan of the fanfiction than the original work. When I first tried to get into the show, I definitely didn’t like Nancy. She wasn’t likeable or relatable to me. She wasn’t nice to her brother and she wasn’t a great friend to Barbara. As an older sister, even as a teenager, I would hang out with my brother and talk to him instead of pretending he doesn’t exist. And, as a friend, I would never ditch my friend at a party for some guy.

Here’s a pattern that I’m seeing with Nancy. When Steve was interested in her, her friendship with Barbara deteriorated. (I wouldn’t be surprised if there weren’t any otherworldly monsters, Nancy would constantly bail on Barbara for Steve and his cronies.) Then, when she was with Steve, Jonathan caught her eye. And then, when Jonathan canceled on her during Spring Break, she and Steve had something going on. So, really, who’s to say that this friendship between Nancy and Robin will last?

After all of this, I would love to see R being indifferent to Steve and Robin. Of course, in the beginning, she’s going to mourn the loss of her friendships with them. But after everything that went down between them? Too much has happened for anything to be fixed.

And, really, the opposite of love isn’t hate. It’s indifference. Apathy.

Think about it. It occurred to me the first time I read @rayshippouuchiha’s (Iron Is a) Star Killer (Iron Man fic, would recommend but definitely Team Cap critical). Hate is a strong emotion and it requires a person’s energy to feel that way toward someone else. Either way, that other person will still get attention from someone who’s feeling strongly about them.

However, indifference? Apathy? That requires no effort. What’s more hurtful? Going from friends to enemies? Or going from friends to strangers? With friends to enemies, yes, you’re fighting on opposite sides but at least you still have your former friend’s attention on you in one form or another. But friends to strangers? It’s like, one day, you’re the best of friends and you know everything about each other inside and out. Then, the next day, you’re complete strangers. At most, you’ll pass each other on a street and maybe do a nod of acknowledgment at most. You don’t care about what’s happening in your former friend’s life because it’s no longer your concern.

With the way I’m picturing R and Robin, I definitely want to see their dynamic change from being best friends to strangers.

Robin wants distance from R because R’s changed so much from the Upside Down? Fine. She’ll get her wish. But she’ll get more than she bargained for once the shine of her new friendship with Nancy wears off. I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me if Nancy treats Robin the same way Robin treats R. I’m sure once word gets around, R will feel vindicated and move on with her life.

I can picture Robin calling R out of nowhere and trying to make small talk. R is only half listening because she’s preparing to go somewhere with her new friends. And, just when Robin is about to ask R if she wanted to hang out, R would say she already has plans to meet up with her work friends. And wouldn’t that hurt Robin?

Honestly, I’m a simple woman with simple needs. I just want R to realize her worth, expand her social circle outside of Robin and Steve, and for Robin and Steve to feel that sting of rejection (eh, sting is too small—pain might be more appropriate) they inflicted due to their casual cruelty. Because, let’s be real, Steve and Robin have been complete bags of dicks just by being casually cruel to R. (Thank you, T Swift, you’ve done it again.) I want them to get a taste of their own medicine.

👀👀👀 Wow. The R and Robin section went longer than I anticipated and I still haven’t gotten to Steve and R and Eddie and R.

I’m going to pause this for now. But I will definitely leave another comment to express more of my opinions. I am definitely enjoying this fic. Thank you! 💗😘😍💗

Everlong // part five 

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, mentions of depression & anxiety, mentions of death, mentions of ptsd, physical fight, the boys throw some punches…, slut shaming

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader // Steve Harrington x fem!reader 

Summary: One night is all it took for everything to fall apart. Almost everything. 

Author’s note: @prettyboyeddiemunson thank you for helping me with some of the ideas for this part! <3 also, happy valentine’s day!

series masterlist 

-

As Steve is walking back and forth in his driveway, his mind keeps replaying the scene that happened in front of him mere minutes ago. He is both angry and hurt, his heart is hammering against his ribcage, his throat feels tight, angry tears fall from his eyes. He can’t believe that you kissed Eddie.

You love him, right? You don’t love Eddie, he is sure of that. You and Eddie are nothing but friends– he tries to convince himself of that but the kiss looked nothing like a kiss that was shared between two friends who played a drunken game of truth or dare.

Keep reading

[cd-head]

Cory, Shawn finds, has an older brother. His name is Eric, and he’s in sixth grade. Cory says that he’s meant to be in seventh, but started school late. Eric doesn’t hang out with them a lot. He instead holes up in his and Cory’s room while Shawn is out with Cory and his friends.

They don’t do much. Shawn meets Cory’s parents - Amy and Alan. They’re nice enough, but Shawn can’t help but feel uneasy around them. They aren’t scary per se, but Shawn still worries. He worried all throughout eating Amy’s homemade bread that it was poisoned.

It’s only when Alan asks when he’s going home does he remember that he’d never told anyone about leaving. He blanches after the question and comes up with a quick lie on the spot. Alan doesn’t believe it, but he strangely doesn’t push.

“Are you staying for dinner?” Cory asks. It’s only the two of them in the sideyard now. The rest of Cory’s friends have trickled out and away. Shawn sits down next to Cory on the bench.

“Nah, my sister’s cooking tonight.” It’s a lame excuse. He doesn’t want to think of a better one. He’s already worried enough about how Stacy will react about him being gone so long; he can’t stand the prospect of making her worry for even an hour more. “Maybe next time?”

Cory nods, although it’s distinctly noncommittal. “So…when’s your mom and dad coming to pick you up?”

“I think I’ll just walk home,” provides Shawn, voice meek. Cory frowns. “I should probably get going now if I want to make it home in time.”

Eddie’s waiting for him when he gets back to the trailer park three hours after he was meant to show up. It’s half past six, and Eddie seems annoyed. Shawn almost feels bad about making him wait. But, then again, it seems it was his own choice. They do not exchange any pleasantries.

“Where were you, pipsqueak?”

Shawn shrugs. “Friend’s house.” The two begin walking towards the trailer. It’s eerily quiet now, whereas normally it would be rattling with movement. Shawn shoves his hands into the pockets of his torn jeans. Eddie walks slightly behind him.

Stacy runs out of the trailer upon seeing Shawn. She immediately pulls him in a tight embrace that Shawn can’t escape from.

[theres stuff here but i dont like it all that much so ! REDACTED]

Stacy didn’t wake him up this morning. Eddie isn’t even in the trailer. In fact, Shawn can’t here either of them moving around whatsoever. He checks the digital clock on his bedside table to find that it’s nine in the morning and he has no way to school.

An absence on his second day. Shawn snorts at the thought: it’s bound to be an indicator of something. He doubts that this will be a one time thing. “If I had my druthers…” he says, voice trailing off.

Slowly, he drags himself out of bed. He slips on a pair of socks before going towards the kitchen area of the trailer. He prepares himself two slices of bread that he sticks into the barely functioning toaster. He leans against the countertop and rubs the bridge of his nose.

He’s not disappointed nor is he surprised, but he feels a strange pang of guilt. He wonders about Cory. He hopes the other boy isn’t too worried. Despite only knowing him for a day now, Shawn understands that Cory worries - a lot. He sighs and opens the door to the mini-fridge and takes a drink straight out of the jug of orange juice.

The toaster pops as it ejects the toast from its burning insides. Shawn is quick to grab both pieces and turn the toaster off. He doesn’t bother buttering them before taking a bite out of the first one.

THIS IS SO !!! I LOV IT NGL. IT READS CHOPPY BUT NOT IN A BAD WAY

[antibioware]

Deltarune and Escapism

Alright now that my hands have finaly stopped trembling and my eyes aren’t burning anymore, time to write my two cents about the new chapter and the reveal that the mysterious “Knight” who has been opening the worlds is Kris themselves, while being free of their soul.

I’m not surprised that people automatically assumed that Kris is doing it because they’re “evil” or what the fuck ever, because even back in 2018, without any whatsoever no mercy route available or true hints beyond a 3 seconds cutscene, people were already giving Kris the Chara treatment.

My personal thoughts about why Kris keeps doing it is actually very simple: they’re using the Dark World as a mean to escape reality.

Kris doesn’t appear to be living a particular easy time in their life. Their brother just went to college, and both from their internet searches and from general talks around town, it’s very evident that Kris misses him fiercely.

On top of that, their parents divorce seems to have happened very recently and they’re stuck in the middle of it (with Asgore using them as a bridge to give Toriel flowers, for example) and their social life doesn’t seem to be  the best: Toriel is pleasantly surprised in Chapter 1 to discover Kris is spending time with a friend, and by many they’re considered a weirdo.

So what happens when a teen who doesn’t have the best life creates a parallel “pretend” world were they’re a hero and have friends who love them?

If Dark Fountains are caused by a Lightner stabbing the Earth with a knife, it’s not hard to imagine Kris, who apparently has a personal knife, doing it on either  accident or curiosity. Back at the beginning Chapter 1, when the door “changes” in front of Susie and Kris, their instinctive reaction outside of player control is to take a step back, which could easily mean that they were scared, but it could also mean that they could have caused whatever was going on inside and were scared of seeing what it was.

The fact that the Dark Worlds have been so far used as escapist fantasies is also proved by the fact that all the Lightners who have been under are also teens who are having a rough time in their everyday life:

Susie is someone who’s considered a violent bully, has no friends and she’s hinted so far as not having a great home life, between the way she reacts to getting her own room in Ralsei’s castle, as well as her reation to Toriel being nice to her and also her accepting to sleep over while only pretending to call back home to alert she was sleeping at a friend’s house.

Noelle allows people (Berdly) to push her around because she’s afraid of standing up for herself and make her own choices (this is also highlighted by the Snowgrave route), and back home she has only a too busy, too harsh mother, due to having an (apparently dead) absent sister and her father stuck in the hospital with an unknown illness.

Berdly made his own life harsher by pretending to be something he’s not and now he’s slowly being crushed under the weight of adult expectations for him, and due to that he ends up taking merit for stuff Noelle does and speaking over her, despite the fact that he seems to genuinely care for her.

All of which seem to thrive in the fun settings of the Dark World, despite being in a situation of danger and the ups and downs of the plot (this without considering the Snowgrave route). It’s exactly why in the end Ralsei has to intervene with the Legend in order to convince them to return to the world above, while they were dead set on creating new Dark Fountains.

Now, Kris may be possessed most of the time during their time in the Dark Worlds, but they still seem to appreciate the good they get from it. It’s Kris themselves, without player control, who moves to save Susie in Chapter 1 and tells Toriel they have made a new friend. It’s Kris who changes the verbal inflection of some of the dialogue options the player uses in order to let others know they’re either joking or insincere.

It’s also Kris who makes the decision, outside of player control, to create another Dark Fountain.

Escapism is one hell of a drug, after all. You can’t blame the kids for wanting to be somewhere they can be themselves without being judged, or even be with people that irl tend to avoid them, or where a loving character who vaguely resembles your missing older brother is. So they make more worlds, for better or worse, because it could easily be that a fantasy world were you’re manipulated in your actions seems better than your actual life.

I say for better or worse, because a thing that the Snowgrave route pointed out to me is that there’s some levels of player control that Kris can experience. While you can say there are actions in the regular game when Kris does things out of their free will, in the Snowgrave route there aren’t. There’s no bit in the game were Ralsei gets to speak alone with Kris while the player is occupied looking at Susie, you stop getting dialogue options and instead Kris turns silent. Noelle also says that the voice who was ordering her around wasn’t Kris’, but rather something else entirely, which means that Kris, when obliged to Do All That Nightmare Stuff, wasn’t in any way in control of themselves. It could be said that while Kris was manipulating Noelle into hurting others, the player was manipulating Kris into believing that hurting others is all fine too, because the Dark World isn’t real, after all. It’s natural to want to hurt others. It’s just a game.

In which case, of course, Kris still wanting to open up a new Dark World the moment they’re out of player control takes a MUCH darker meaning.

tl;dr Kris is creating the Dark Fountains for themselves to escape their current life, and it’s not because “they’re evil”, but to keep having adventures with friends OR because the level of player control they’re experiencing makes them believe being violent to others in the world under is justified and fun.

[the-apprentice-lia]

Hey! I saw that you do headcanons as well? Sorry if I’m asking in the right place but I loved your post on Asra’s hurt!! Could you possibly do the “mc getting slapped by the m6” ask please? My angsty little heart needs foodddd

hiii!! i’m so glad you liked my post:)) don’t worry, i’ll do my best to not cry when i’m writing this although it probably won’t work

i just wanna say that under no circumstances is it okay to hurt your partner!! please don’t take this post the wrong way:)

the main 6 slapping mc

asra

• it probably started because of how much he keeps from you. you know it’s just because he doesn’t want to see you hurt or unhappy because of how much of your life you’ve lost to your premature death, but it’s still so infuriating. you’re not a child, and you tell him as much.

• as much as you love each other, arguments can get messy. you know so much about each other that it’s difficult not to go for the soft parts in an argument, and you just snap.

• they’re probably running his hands through his hair, tears of frustration and pent up feelings slipping down his cheeks and catching the light of the many candles around the shop, making them glister strangely beneath the low light.

• “asra, you’re being ridiculous. how in the arcana am i supposed to know about who i was if you won’t fucking tell me?” you shout at them, crystals and glass bottles clinking together on the shelves.

• asra breaks, finally raising his voice as well, telling you that you’re acting like a child. you feel a twisted feeling of satisfaction at his loss of control. at least they’re actually treating you like a person— but you’re still so frustrated.’why can’t he just see that you’re not a china doll, easily broken and delicately made?

•you’re screaming now, tears blurring your vision. all you see is red. “if i’m acting like such a child then why did you even bother bringing me back? you should have just fucking left me to rot beneath the lazaret if you won’t so much as—” you’re cut off with a sharp crack.

• asra’s stronger than they look, and he wasn’t thinking as he lashed out in anger and pain, so you probably stumble back into the shelves behind you, or onto the counter of the shop.

• you touch your hand to your hot cheek with a dull feeling of surprise. it’s as if everything is through a haze, your gaze flickering up to meet asra’s horrified one as you take a step back, a dry sob heaving through your chest as your knees give out and you sink to the floor.

• “mc, i’m so sorry, i can’t— i don’t— please. i’m so sorry,” he stumbles over his words as he crouches before you, giving you enough space that you could easily leave. you don’t, and he breathes out slowly as they reach towards you and gently, heartbreakingly softly, cups your face to turn it towards him. he inhales sharply as he takes in your bruised cheekbone, red already beginning to spread outwards in the shape of his hand, and he flinches to see that he’s hurt you, his beloved apprentice.

• he opens his arms slowly, hesitantly, and you sink into them, burying your face in his scarves and then drawing back slightly with a faint hiss as your cheek touches the fabric, and he lets out a sob as well, burying his face in your sweet-smelling hair. murmurs “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” into you over and over again, rocking you back and forth on the floor of the shop.

• he’ll hurt for weeks after, even after the bruise fades, he’ll simply refuse to touch you for days after the incident. whispers “but what if i hurt you,” his voice breaking at the mere thought of it, and you cradle him to you, stroking his cheek as he shakes.

nadia

• the argument was probably about her refusing to ask for help. she’s been alone for so long that the refusal simply comes naturally. she has to prove that she can be successful alone, that she can make something of herself without anyone.

• at first, you tell her gently that she can trust you, that you’re always here for her, and that she doesn’t have to do this alone— but she doesn’t want to hear it, telling you insistently that she doesn’t need any help.

• “your dark circles would say otherwise, nadi! you can’t keep going on like this!” you tell her, your voice strained as you lay a hand on her arm. you just want to help her, but she won’t listen to you. “i can do it myself,” she tells you coldly, pulling away from you and turning back to her work. “i don’t need your help. i never have.”

• you feel the hurt blossom in your chest, but you try to push it down as you close her books, smudging the ink on a document by mistake. “nadi, please.” you tell her, but she doesn’t even seem to hear you as she opens her books and sets her jaw, looking at the ruined document. you bite your lip in dismay and go to apologise, but she cuts in before you get the chance. “you ruin everything. you’re such a nuisance, can you not find anything better to do with your time than to bother me? i am the countess of vesuvia, and i don’t need your help.” she’s shouting by the end of her outburst, and you recoil, hurt now showing across your face— but it’s quickly replaced by anger.

• you laugh disbelievingly, your voice spiteful and pained as you speak. “you don’t need my help? well that’s certainly a different tune than the one you were singing when you came to me in the middle of the night, asking for my help. and even then i gave it unbegrudgingly. you’re so stubborn, nadia! you’re so ridiculously naïve that you can’t even see that not everybody’s against you. so your sisters acted like every older sibling the world over, and excluded you from a few games. you carry grudges as if the world’s out to get you and nobody seeks to help you. you’re such a child! why—” your screaming cuts off at the sharp crack.

• you cry out at the sudden flare of pain. nadia’s also a lot stronger than she looks— i mean, she’s a master sword-fighter. and so, you stumble backwards into the marble table opposite her desk, turning away from her to catch your breath, your figure shaking with quiet sobs. everything seems to fall away, and you hold your arms around yourself in a poor attempt to keep your paroxysms of sobs quiet.

• nadia is completely silent. the jarring force snapped her out of whatever tired grumpiness she had been wallowing in, and now she’s just looking at her hands, a look of absolute horror twisting her features as she takes in the hand, resting palm-down on her knees, that she used to— to— she can’t even think about it. she has betrayed your trust, used your relationship, built on a foundation of love and mutual respect, to hurt you. it’s as if she’s seeing the world through a haze of disbelief. she’s taken advantage of your love for her, she’s physically violated you, and the thought of that leaves her physically ill. hot tears drop steadily into her lap, as she turns her hands over, and her eyes widen even more, if possible, with horror. blood glisters thickly on her index finger, coating the closest section to her palm where a golden ring sits. the countess of vesuvia never takes her rings off during the day, and she’s snapped out of her daze by the quiet hiss that comes from where you stand.

•when the first tears stream down your face, you hiss at the sharp pain, touching your fingers gently to your face and wincing as they come into contact with… is that a wound? you stare at them as they come away a deep, garnetine red. your hair is sticking to the blood running down your face from the wound. you sob dryly as the pain sets in, and by the gods it stings. it seems that even the air twists into your opened skin, burning sharply. you’re so lost in the mist of disbelief you barely notice when nadia comes up behind you.

• “my love?” her voice comes, softly, and you stiffen as she lays a hand on your upper arm. she withdraws it quickly as her voice breaks. “please, mc. say anything. look at me, i beg of you.” you don’t say anything for a minute before you inhale softly and turn to her.

• something in nadia breaks. she lifts shaking fingers up to her mouth as your eyes meet hers, and she takes in what she’s done to you. she’s sliced your upper-cheek open from just short of the bridge of your nose to almost the edge of your face. and the cut is deep. bruising spreads around it, in the shape of her hand, and she lets out a sob before dropping to her knees, taking your hand in hers. “by the arcana, mc, i am so, so sorry— i don’t know— i can’t— please, my love, i am so sorry,” she presses her forehead to your hand before you start to cry, sinking to your knees as well and burying your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking. you hiss softly as you draw your hand away and it comes away a glistening, wine-dark red.

• you flinch away from her as she comes to envelop you in a hug. “don’t. please,” you say softly, pulling yourself away from her. you leave bloodstains on the floor. her eyes hold inexplicable sorrow and remorse in them, as she nods haltingly, her heart breaking as she realises— you’re… afraid of her. later, she’ll bury her head into her pillow and sob her heart out but for now, she needs you to know to not be afraid of her. she loves you, you know that— and you need to know she’ll never violate the trust you put in her again.

• “mc… please. i’m so, so inexplicably sorry for what i’ve done to you. i promise it will never happen again.” her voice is soft, and she speaks to you as if you’re a wounded deer she’s found in the palace gardens, her voice breaking as she lets you see that she’s approaching you, her arms in front of her as she holds them out softly when she’s quite close to you.

• you look at her, meet her eyes with yours, and slowly settle into her embrace as she lets out a quiet sob of relief, burying her head in your hair. you pull away with a quiet gasp of pain when her hair meets your wound, and she cups your face (your good side) softly, stroking your cheek with her thumb as you close your eyes and she moves closer to you, giving you the time to pull away before her lips meet your forehead and she kisses you there gently before pressing one just above your cut and pulling you back to her, minding your cheek. you cry softly into her chest, and she does so into your hair. the two of you stay there until the blood starts to dry on your cheek and she stands, helping you up.

• “i’m taking you to the infirmary, dearest one.” “but… nadia.” you gesture to the state you’re in with a raised eyebrow. blood stains your collar and had dripped down your cheek in steady rivulets— and now your entire cheek is coated in blood. the cut itself is deep and thorough, splitting the skin so that the flesh beneath is easily visible, and the black, blue, and red flesh around your cut in the shape of nadia’s hand is enough that there is no room to doubt how your injury happened. “i’m your partner. there’s nobody else that would have done this— your entire court will know.” you look at her gently. “i can hide this.”

• and yet again, nadia’s heart is absolutely crushed. broken. shattered. “my heart, you should not have to hide what i have done. we’re going to the infirmary.”

• the entire way there, nadia weathers the stares and whispers with, for once, a bent head. you tighten your fingers around her hand— you know how important the favour of the court is. when you finally arrive, and you have to explain, haltingly, how you were injured, nadia gets a few looks of unbridled disgust as your injuries are treated. you squeeze her hand every now and again, and she looks at you gratefully. her eyes darken as you bite your lip roughly when the antiseptic meets it, your eyes watering as she strokes your hand, never taking her eyes away from you.

• afterwards, will absolutely doubt herself as a leader and a partner. no matter if you forgive her, no matter that the bruise fades and the wound heals, she’ll still always linger on your scar when she’s kissing your face, she’ll still murmur “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, darling,” into your hair for months after.

• if anyone is so much as even vaguely disdainful towards you with respects to your scar, you’ll literally have to talk her down from having them thrown out/arrested. you forgive her, and she loves you with all of her— but when dark feelings surface now there’s absolutely nothing you can do that will even get a shadow of a rise out of her. is just calm and collected. never so much as raises her voice at you.

• will 100% look at you as you sleep and hate herself for harming you in any way.

hope you enjoyed the angst fest!! these were so long— but i’ll do the next four periodically:)

[moonglowmagic]

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Poppy wanted to eye roll at Bri’s words and actions but she held off figuring she shouldn’t burn every bridge that crossed her way. Especially one that she as attempting to help, even if it had failed royally. “You’re welcome.” Giving a laugh at Bri’s reaction, she shook her head playfully. Unsure how the other her had royally messed up so bad, but she chalked it up to the busy bar and the fact that she was still off; as much as she liked to pretend she was back to normal. At Bri’s words Poppy was surprised, she’d half expected the other to want to pretend she was fine as well, but it turned out that wasn’t in the cards today. While Bri described her dream Poppy flashed back to her own death and she winced slightly at the memories. “Can I ask you something?” Poppy started softly. “Because I get the wondering if everyone would be better off if you stayed dead bit. But what did you want? I mean I get vampire so blood thing, but if you got the choice without the whole bloodlust bit would you have came back still or stayed gone?” She couldn’t help but wonder what her choice would have been if everyone hadn’t demanded her back, if she’d really got to choose for herself. “I mean maybe a little more than nine considering how many times you’ve died.” She teased lightly, she nudged Bri with her elbow; hoping that maybe she could lighten the mood some. “No, you’re fine. I get it to an extent. I mean my life is now tied to my sisters, while I don’t think she’d ever just cut me loose like that.” Snapping her fingers. “This life is well… no longer mine to decide what to do with which is a hard pill to swallow no matter what.” Tucking her hair behind her ear as she sighed. “You’re free to vent though I like talking to you.” She admitted softly. “Oh god.” Giving a laugh as she pushed off the wall and turned to look at Bri. “I mean I am certainly loved. Considering that I’ve had multiple confessions of how much people love me.” Rolling her eyes sarcastically. “It feels like shit honestly. A part of me wanted to stay gone and didn’t want to come back, but everyone just— they needed me and I stood there watching them fall apart it just felt selfish to say no.” She admitted. “I mean what if I picked wrong? What if I should have just stayed gone and let them all move on? I mean now I can’t even be the thing I want most besides supreme. All my back up plans have basically went to complete shit.” She rambled on. “I’m sorry I know this makes me sound like an asshole given how loved I clearly am, but — fuck it’s also hard and a lot of pressure to put on one person."

"Thank you," Bri let out a sigh of relief, waving away the smoke in the air before she moved to straightening down the creases of her dress as if to make sure everything was back in order before she continued on. "And really? I mean thank you. That's all I ask," The corners of Bri's lips tilted up into a content little smile as she waited for the bartender wandered back out with a newly made drink. "Mhm," She murmured out happily as she took a sip of a in fact in perfect drink. "Much better. Back up to standards. Thank you and the second one sounds like the better option, but because I'm noisy and I know secrets are a two way street, the nightmare I was trapped in? It was me dying on repeat again and again and again. In one of them, Nico slit my neck open with his claws. Kinda like how Meena off'ed Theo, but slower and less blood splatter and more drowning in it sort of thing? And I know it's different than actually dying. Been there too, so I know how much that sucks. What you went through and all, but it felt real in the moment and I guess, as much as a part of me wondered if everyone in my life would have been better off if I stayed dead, after I can back, the selfish part of me is still really, really afraid of dying again. Only one day permanently? I..." Bri's voice began to tremble as she realized what she was admitting out loud. "I'm sort of like a cat with nine lives, you know? Only what if they've all ran out and... and I just keep thinking what happens when the Catalyst no longer deems me of value and decides to cut me loose the way they did with Kyle? Sorry. I didn't mean to dump that all on you," She mumbled out, realizing that she had probably shared too much as she cleared her throat once more. Letting out a little sniffle as she glanced back up at the blonde beside her. "But, your turn. How does it feel being officially the most loved member of the death brigade?" She attempted to joke, even if she was a tiny bit jealous of how many people had been desperate for Poppy to come back. Rightfully so, of course, but still...

[erwinsvow]

𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟

for the 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 collab <3

summary: you've always been fond of your step-brother, jean, despite how much he tries to avoid spending time with you. he finally reaches his breaking point when he sees you talking to eren, though.

warnings: step-cest, slight manipulation (reader), possessive behavior, teasing + edging, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), degradation, rough sex, creampie, jean is a good boy and reader is a fiend

author's note: i hope everyone likes this!!! i'm thinking about creating a step-cest series, let me know who should be next! tagging the lovely @yeagerslut & sending a big thank you for creating this collab! <3

Jean can never really peel his eyes away from you, no matter how hard he tries. At first it was subtle glances, like staring at the exposed skin of your supple thighs from his place beside his mom, when she was first introducing you and your father to him.

His first thought, besides the fact that it’ll be nice to have a sibling in the house with him every once in a while, is that your dress is incredibly short. So short that he wonders how you’re allowed to leave the house in something like that. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t let you, that’s for sure.

He quickly remembers that it’s not up to him, and that it’s not his place to be worrying about the length of your hem. Jean tries to suppress the strange, sudden burning feeling in his chest when he thinks about you wearing something as short as that when he has his friends over. No, that won’t be allowed.

He’ll have to tell someone about it, at some point, because he can’t stand the unusual jealousy he feels stirring at the idea of one of his friends looking at you while you’re wearing that.

His thoughts are cut short when his mother tells you two to get acquainted, while your dad and her head to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Jean almost doesn’t want them to leave, doesn’t want to be left alone with you and those legs and that dress, but he doesn’t have any say in the matter.

Your first words to your new step-brother are carefully calculated. In fact, you've been deciding everything carefully. The way you did your hair, the dress you’ve chosen that’s much too short for a family dinner but it’s not like someone can stop you, even the pink lip gloss you reapplied in the car before entering the house. Everything has its purpose, its place, with one goal in mind: see how long it takes for Jean to crack.

“I’m so excited to finally have a big brother, Jean!” you let out in a cheerful, chirpy voice that doesn’t match your insidious thoughts at all. You close the bridge separating you two with a few steps, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a hug.

It’s so sudden, so unforeseen that he stumbles a little, letting his tall figure be pulled by your efforts and arms wrapping around your waist for support. And before he knows it, the sweet smell of your perfume is invading all his senses and leaving him with nothing to think about except you.

He takes it all in, the lingering scent of shampoo in your hair, something fruity, he thinks off-hand, the feel of your soft skin on the back of his neck, your cheek against his, but especially the way your breasts feel against his chest.

He pulls away before you want him to, and you begrudgingly allow him to, recognizing what a challenge it’ll be. But you’re always up for a challenge.

The first few months pass by in the blink of an eye for you, and dragging on and on for him. Jean tries to avoid interactions with you since that first meeting, but it’s hard to when you’re living in the same house as him. Even harder when your bedroom is right next to his, his mother offering up his assistance to help you move boxes and get settled while she and her new husband go out to dinner.

It’s ridiculous, the way he flushes bright red when he opens boxes and suitcases filled with clothing he doesn’t want to look at, all short skirts and sun-dresses and delicate panties that he tries and fails not to stare at.

You keep your gaze away, knowing exactly which suitcase you had given him to unpack, while you organize books on the shelves of the room and sort knick-knacks.

“Won’t it be nice sharing a wall?” you comment, adjusting a frame on your nightstand and not meeting Jean’s eyes. “I think it’ll be fun to have you so close.”

Jean chokes on the water he was drinking, gasping for air and trying to process your words all at once, when you finally turn around and smile. A smile that he thinks should be illegal, given the way it’s innocence personified when you’re actually a little devil.

He leaves a little bit after that, calling out that he’s not hungry when you knock on his door for dinner, but you don’t miss the way he sounds breathless, or the panties missing from your drawers.

Every challenge gets easier, right?

It doesn’t take long for your behavior to get a little out of hand, especially when the two of you have so much alone time together. Your parents are gone all the time, frequenting dinner parties and double dates, and not coming back until late at night.

Jean tries his best to keep away. While he had once been the friend whose house was always available for sleepovers, movie nights, and the like, he was now keeping everyone away. Every time your parents’ car left the driveway, Jean followed suit, either hopping into Connie’s Jeep or walking the short distance to Sasha’s place and leaving you alone.

He was hoping no one would notice, but of course someone did, and of course that someone was Eren.

“We can’t do my place again,” Sasha says, absentmindedly reaching for the bag of chips which Connie yanks out of her reach. “My dad’s having people over.” A swat to the back of Connie’s head gets her back the snack quickly.

“How come we can’t do Jean’s place like usual?” Eren asks, reclining back in his seat and enjoying the panicked expression on Jean’s face. “There something wrong with that new sister of yours?” Jean chokes back a cough.

“No.”

“Does she always have friends over, or something?”

“No.”

“Then it’s settled,” Eren says, bringing his hands together. “Jean’s place it is.” Shit, Jean. Better come up with something quick.

“We- we can’t do my place!” he sputters out much too loudly, meeting the gaze of every person in the room.

“Any reason why, Jean-bo?” Eren asks.

“I- we- what if she’s not okay with having a bunch of loud-mouthed idiots sleeping over?” Shitty, but it’s the best he can think of when he’s so concerned with keeping everyone away from you.

If you behave like that with parents in the house, how are you gonna behave with his friends around? He doesn’t wanna take the chance to find out.

“How about you call and ask, dumb-ass?” Connie suggests, shoving his phone at him and waiting with a confused look. Jean lets out a defeated sigh, knowing how this phone call will go.

Your loud, chirpy “I’m perfectly fine with that, silly! I’ve been waiting to meet your friends..” can be heard through the phone and answers Eren’s question.

Jean searches for a reason, any reason really, to keep this sleepover from happening, but realizes that he’s failed miserably when all his friends appear, clad with pillows and overnight bags, on his front door. “So,” Eren begins, with a wolfish grin on his face that Jean wants to punch right off, “Where’s the sister? It’s only polite to say hi, right?”

As if you’d been waiting for the cue, you poke your head out from the living room, that very same innocent and sweet smile gracing your face.

“Hi,” you, stepping out to greet his friends in the foyer. “It’s so nice to meet you all.”

Jean immediately regrets the fact that he never had that conversation with you about the length of your dresses. It always sat in the back of his head somewhere, though it was incredibly easy to dismiss when you would come sit next to him on the couch, dress riding up frequently and exposing more skin that he somehow always found himself entranced by.

Today the dress of choice is yellow, and though it does, in fact, cover everything it needs to, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination either. Jean almost feels like a schoolboy again, blushing at exposed shoulders and thighs, but he can’t help it when you’re clinging right to his side as you greet his friends.

“I’m Eren-”

“Hi, I’m Connie-”

“Ignore these two, I’m Sasha-” All meet each other at once. You let out a laugh at your step-brother’s funny friends, glancing up to see his expression, but all you see are signs of anger. Your smile dims a little, but picks right back at up when you notice the way Eren looks at you, and the way Jean looks at Eren.

A plan is working itself into creation in your head before you can help it, deviousness taking a hold on you as you smile brightly in favor of Eren over Jean. Your step-brother’s been keeping his distance all this time, but you’re about ready to force his hand.

You don’t miss the way Jean’s jaw tightens, his hand clenching into a fist at his side as he guides the group to the living room. Your original plan changes quickly, following them into the space and taking your usual place on the couch as you scan the various video games laid out.

“Eren, will you sit with me?” you ask in a gentle tone, one that Jean is all too familiar with. “I don’t know this game, can I watch you play first?”

“Don’t you have work to do, or something?” Jean blurts out without thinking, his only thought centered around getting you out of the room and as far away as he can.

“What work? It’s summer,” you reply, watching your step-brother’s cheeks turn red.

You’re not helping matters for Jean, as he watches Eren sit where he usually does, teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurts. He doesn’t think he could get more angry, until he notices Eren’s hand move to your knee, squeezing quickly but lingering entirely too long. There must be steam coming out of Jean’s ears at this point, watching this interaction between you two.

“Yeah, Jean, she can stick around to watch. Anything for your little sister, right?” “I’m not that much younger than you guys, you know,” you reply with a laugh, adjusting your position on the sofa and purposefully lifting the skirt of your dress for a second before letting it settle. If someone were looking, which both Jean and Eren were, they’d catch a glimpse of black panties, and they both did.

Jean is seeing red now, standing up without realizing why, ready to yank Yeager away from you, when the doorbell rings again. It stops Jean in his tracks. “That must be Marco,” Sasha reminds, looking up from the games to glance at Jean with confusion. “Aren’t you gonna go get that?”

“Y-yeah. I’ll be right back.” Jean locks eyes with you as he leaves the room, and you dejectedly sigh, leaning away from Eren. It’s no fun to mess around with another guy if Jean’s not there to see.

He guides Marco into the living room, and you greet him with a quick smile before giving your full attention back to Eren.

The next few hours are fun for you, and unbearable for Jean. Every time he spared a glance to you, you were pouring over Eren, asking questions about the game and insisting on clarification, leaning in much too close and supporting yourself on his shoulder as he explained another trivial rule to you.

Jean didn’t like any of it, not the way you laughed sweetly and played with your hair while talking to Eren, not the way your legs were on display and Eren’s sleazy hands kept finding its way back to them, none of it. What he couldn’t stand, though, was how you didn’t shy away from his touch and found any and every way to keep it going.

He’s at his limit when you go to your bedroom after dinner to change into pajamas, knowing what to expect from your nightwear. If he’s lucky, you’ll pick a big t-shirt and shorts, but he’s seen first-hand the silky slips and cotton sets you prefer to sleep in.

Jean doesn’t think he can handle the look on Eren’s face if you come down the stairs wearing one of those, so he lets his anger do the thinking for a minute when the others are fighting over snacks and who gets the couch versus the floor.

Eren’s waiting near the bottom of the stairs, looking at something on his phone when Jean approaches and glances quickly to make sure you’re still in your room.

“You better knock it off, Yeager, I’m serious,” he says, trying to contain his anger and keep his voice down. His words come out in a low grumble that he barely recognizes, body stiff and trying his best to intimidate Eren. It doesn’t seem to be working. “Knock off what?” Eren questions nonchalantly, amused that his suspicions were proving to be correct. Looks like Jean had a little thing for his step-sister after all.

Jean’s eyes unwittingly flit to the top of the stairs again, before he forces his gaze back to Eren, but the quick gesture isn’t missed by his so-called friend.

“Oh, I see. You want me to stop being so buddy-buddy with your step-sister, huh? You better tell that to her first, you know. She’s been all over me since the minute I met her.”

The sly smirk playing on his lips only makes Jean want to cave his face in all the more.

“You better watch it, you son of a-” Eren clicks his tongue to interrupt Jean.

“Come on now, Jean, you can’t really expect me to stop. I mean, it’s not like she’s my sister, right?” Eren says, with a strange look in his eyes as though he was tempting Jean to blow his cover.

Eren walks away to rejoin everyone in the living room, leaving Jean seething by the stairs and you in your bedroom, pressed against the door and clinging onto every word.

All night you had known Jean was getting agitated by your constant flirting and touchiness with Eren, but he hadn’t been close to cracking, or so it seemed. The fact that he even confronted Eren had your heart pounding in your chest, wondering if tonight might finally be the chance you had been waiting for. You hear Jean’s heavy foot steps walk away, and you decide that it’s all or nothing, now.

You leave your room and close the door gently, dressed in a pink camisole and shorts that were sure to get Eren’s attention for long enough for Jean to finally crack.

Just as you began the descent down the stairs, you heard footsteps coming back and were greeted with Jean at the foot of the stairs.

The look in his eyes was something you hadn’t seen before, something entirely different from the reserved, hesitant Jean you had gotten so used to.

No, this Jean was someone else, a mix of want and desire and shame pooling in his pretty eyes, looking at you as though you were the prey he had finally cornered.

Before you know it, Jean is in your bedroom and your back is pressed against the door roughly as his lips stay on yours and refuse to pull away. His tongue is hot in your mouth, and his hands feel as though they’re burning your skin with the heat they are radiating, groping your ass and the soft skin of your back as he explores your body. All the things he’d wanted to do for these last few months, that he’d forced himself to repress, finally coming out.

You moan into Jean’s mouth at the sudden feel of his hands on your tits, grabbing blindly and pinching your nipple roughly and suddenly, causing the moan to turn into a loud squeal. Jean clasps his free hand over your mouth.

“Shh, now,” he begins, staring into your eyes and making your core heat up uncomfortably as you realize your little challenge was finally over. You feel the wetness between your legs growing, pussy throbbing just at seeing Jean be so dominant for once. “We don't want anyone to hear, do we?”

You shake your head quickly to answer his question, having completely forgotten about the multiple guests just a floor away. You expect Jean to pull away, to tell you that he’ll take care of you after they’re all gone, some other time, but he doesn’t.

He pulls his hand away and leads two fingers to your mouth, guiding them into your willing mouth, latching your lips around them and sucking while swirling your tongue, getting them wet as he wanted.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this? Huh? Since the day I met you, that’s how long. And you’re such a fucking tease all the time, you know how unbearable it's been?” Jean says in a deep voice, his eyes observing your mouth continuing its work. You moan around his fingers, wanting to speak but no words come out.

He pulls his fingers away and leads them straight to your throbbing pussy, running one up and down your slit teasingly as you hold back a loud moan.

“P-please, Jean, please do something, I- oh!” Jean shoves the two digits into your tight hole without any warning at all, causing your whole body to shake at the sudden fullness.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, you dirty slut? You wanted your big brother to get fed up and fuck you senseless, didn’t you? Say it,” he orders, fingers pumping in and out and his hand grazing your clit with every motion, causing you to moan as your body tenses. You can hardly process his words because of the pleasure you’re feeling, but his other hand finding your throat brings you back quickly.

“Say it. I won’t ask again.”

“Y-yes, Jean, I-I wanted big brother to fuck me, oh, yes-” You lose your thoughts again as his pace increases, making you squeal again before you clamp your mouth shut to make sure no one hears you. Your stomach is tensing and you know you’re so, so close, one more touch from Jean would have your orgasm washing over you like lightening spreading through your body, when he suddenly stops.

You gasp loudly at the sudden emptiness, feeling your orgasm dissipate as you buck up and clamp down against nothing at all. Jean’s fingers are in his mouth, tasting your wetness as you try to catch your breath and protest against the way he’s teasing you, but your pleas are met by deaf ears.

“Jean,” you moan desperately, clinging to his shoulders, “please, please, let me cum, please-”

“No. Filthy sluts that mess around with their big brother’s friends don’t get to cum,” he says gruffly, as you whine again and try to release yourself from his tight grip. It’s useless since he has you caged in, firm hands on your waist dragging you to the bed and throwing you on top of the soft covers.

“Please, I promise I’ll be a good girl,” you plead, using your sweetest voice and big. teary eyes to win Jean over, but it’s still useless.

“I said no,” he repeats, hovering over you and his hands finding their way to the bottom of your camisole. He pulls the skimpy top off of you quickly, revealing your tits. Your nipples harden at the sudden cool air, and Jean’s fingers find them once again, pinching and teasing as you moan into your pillow, desperately bucking your hips up for contact between your legs, to no avail. His hot mouth finds your nipple, flicking with his tongue as his hand plays with the other, before he pulls away quickly.

You whine again at the loss of stimulation, before you see Jean pulling down the band of his grey sweatpants and leaning back against the headboard.

“Prove to me that you deserve big brother’s cock,” he says, revealing his hard dick as it snaps against his stomach. “With your mouth. Now.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You reposition yourself, ass in the air and head at Jean’s crotch as you stare at his pretty, pink cock with wide eyes. You’d expected him to be big, but not like this, though you don’t have time to dwell on it as he grips it firmly and taps the angry, pink tip against your lips.

You hang your tongue out, spit collecting and falling all over his length before you finally take as much as you can into your mouth, sucking and swirling as your hands move up and down the rest that you can’t take.

“Just like that-” Jean begins before breaking into a loud moan. You pop him out of your mouth and keep stroking with your hands as you whisper for him to shush.

“What happened to being quiet, and everyone downstairs will hear, and-” You’re interrupted as Jean grips his cock and shoves it back into your mouth, gagging suddenly at the unexpected movement.

Jean stares at your obedient mouth, following his instructions without any sign of the brat he was so used to. As you cup his balls in your hand, he feels them tighten and knows he’s not gonna last much longer like this. He guides your head away from his cock, admiring the drool and spit on your face and the glassy eyes he’s longed to see.

“Jean, I wanna-”

“I don’t care what you want, sweetheart,” he says, a false sweetness in his voice that’s making you feel dizzy. “You’re gonna ride me now, you got that?”

Jean’s hands are firmly set on your hips, positioning you just as he wants as you hover above his leaking cock. You grind down quickly, desperate for friction on your throbbing clit, before Jean stops your motions with the tight grip he has on you. “Are you gonna make me repeat myself?” he questions, in a tone that makes you positive that you don't want to make him angry. You shake your head immediately, taking his dick in your hand and lining it up with your wet hole, before slowly sinking down.

“Oh, god-!” you let out, before clasping a hand over your mouth. You had never felt quite so full before, the stretching burn making heat course through your whole body, as you bottom out and clench hard. “Come on, baby, you know how long you’ve been begging for this? Don’t get shy on me now,” Jean says, and you regain your senses slowly. You start moving, up and down, just like he wants and speeding up as you feel your cunt gush against Jean.

You’re sure to be making a mess, but you can hardly care when your brain feels so cloudy and distracted at how good Jean feels inside you, and you start the grinding movement again. Jean entertains you for a minute, before grabbing your hips even tighter, nearly at a bruising grip now, and snapping his own hips to thrust into you.

You’re blabbering now, utterly senseless as Jean fucks you mercilessly. You know you’re being loud, but you just don’t care, not when Jean is hitting that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars before you know it, your hands on his shoulders and holding on for life.

“Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum all over your brother’s big cock?” Jean teases, feeling you clench down harder and knowing he won’t be able to hold on much longer either. “Yes, yes, yes! Jean! Oh, Jean-” you finally feel the tight coil in your stomach snap, unaware of your own movements and surroundings as you focus on the pleasure Jean’s giving you. You yell out, cumming so intensely and shaking on top of Jean, twitching once more when you hear Jean groan and feel hot ropes of cum inside you.

Your throat feels dry and scratchy, heart pounding as you come down from your high. You feel Jean’s grip, much softer now, lead you off of his cock and lay you next to him on the bed. It’s a mess, and you don’t know how you’ll clean up with everyone downstairs and surely they’ve noticed you’re both still gone-but you still don’t care.

All you care about is the sound of Jean’s heart beat from your position on his chest, and the way his hands feel on your skin as he holds you close to his warm body.

“So,” he starts off quietly, “was it how you’ve been imagining it all this time?” You’re not looking at him, but you know he’s smiling.

“Mmh,” you hum contentedly, “even better.” You feel his body rumble with a laugh, and his hand reaches to cup your face and lean into you for a kiss. Just as your lips meet, you hear a sharp knock at the door.

“Might wanna hurry up, you two,” Eren calls out from the other side of the door. “The others are getting suspicious.”