#like… I even said in a previous ask that y’all don’t have to reblog every single thing and I UNDERSTAND that sometimes people aren’t in the

[evansbby]

Tumblr used to be so fun now you guys just block and complain people for every small thing like I truly love your work but u always ask for interaction and then even though u get it, you complain that it’s not enough (while you ignore the MANY reblogs you have) or just don’t even bother replying and it gets ignored. I’m not saying we’re entitled to your time like that and that we HAVE to have a response, but if you’re going to make such a big deal and ask for something it would be kind to spend more time acknowledging how people actually come through instead of asking for more and making it seem like no one tried to in the first place?

Wtf all I said was that I block spam likers. Those who know me, know how appreciative I am of everyone else. I literally say it all the time, almost every time I answer an ask that’s praising my work. I of course cannot reply to every single ask and reblog, that’s impossible. But you’re acting like I’m complaining when all I said was that I block people who spam like 18282929 posts in a row. If me saying that makes this blog less fun for you, PLEASE unfollow me. I insist.

[aquaquadrant]

Philophobia

Word Count: 5,271 Warnings: Shipping, inappropriate/crude humor, paranormal activity, suspense/mild horror, descriptive kissing, mild language Summary: For architecture major and paranormal skeptic Grian, his friends’ after-hours ghost hunting group was just an excuse to spend time with his crush, Scar, without having to actually ask him out. But one fateful night, he finds there just might be things in this world that are scarier than emotional vulnerability… even if only by a very slim margin.

A/N: Did someone ask for a Phasmophobia-inspired Scarian au? Oh yeah, my friend @lunarcrown did! Inspired by the art she made here.

So this is kind of a modern-day college au (not set within the fictional universe of Minecraft), howEVER there are some fantasy aspects in that non-human species (like mob hybrids/monsters) still exist cuz they’re fun and I’m not giving anyone a normal modern name cuz that’s too weird. This is only Phasmophobia-inspired in that GIGS have a ghost-hunting group that functions the same way, but rarely find any conclusive evidence, and don’t have unlimited lives cuz they aren’t playing a game. With that out of the way, hope y’all enjoy, please reblog/comment if u do! - Aqua

~*~

Philophobia

~*~

“I think this is gonna be the one, guys,” Impulse says, turning their van into the driveway.

The suspension creaks as they roll over gravel, rattling the frame in a way that hums through Grian’s hollow bones. His arm is cold where it presses against the window; it’s almost sunset and Impulse has yet to get the van’s heater fixed despite his promises. Stupid demon blood keeping him warm while Grian shivers in the stupid custom pleather jumpsuit that Scar insisted they had made, for their stupid ‘brand’ as a stupid ghost-hunting group. Great, his stupid zipper’s come down again- he stubbornly zips it back up because unlike Scar, he doesn’t like constantly having his bare chest out on display.

Of course, he hasn’t got as much to show off as Scar, who must be getting up at 3 am every morning to work out in order to maintain all that muscle. No wonder Scar prefers to keep his zipper down to his belly button, and doesn’t seem to have ever met a shirt that fits him properly.

… Not that Grian’s ever paid much attention to that sort of thing. 

Grian gives an exasperated sigh. “You’ve been saying that about every case we’ve had for three years!”

“No, no, I really mean it!” Impulse insists. “I feel it in my bones.”

“Yeah,” Scar agrees, leaning forward so his shoulder brushes against Grian’s, “you know Impulse bones good!”

The earnest nature of his statement- and the unexpected physical contact- makes Grian flush. “Scar!” he shrieks, swatting Scar’s shoulder.

“What?” Scar defends. “What, he- he’s got big and strong bones, wonderful bones…”

He acts as if he’s got no idea he said something that could be taken the wrong way. And if it weren’t for the upturned corners of his mouth and the barely-restrained laugh in his voice, Grian might actually believe him.

“Dude,” Skizz chuckles from the front seat, “shut up, that’s awesome.”

Impulse sighs. “Anyway,” he says pointedly, “the place recently had a change in ownership. Previous owner passed away-”

“From murder?” Scar gasps.

Another sigh. “No, from liver failure.”

Grian snorts. “From all the drinking he did to forget about the ghostly hauntings?” he presses, exchanging a cheeky grin with Scar.

“No,” Impulse says, with the patience of a saint, “just normal old-age organ failure. The guy was ancient, and some kinda recluse. House had been in his family since it was built, but uh, he had no living relatives, no will when he died. So the bank took ownership and it’s been sitting off-market for like, fifteen years, til some hot-shot investor thought he could flip it-”

“Ughh,” Grian groans, tipping his head back against the seat. “Investors are the worst-”

“I know, I know,” Impulse soothes, “but um, he’d barely begun when things started happening. Contractors reported it day one, then the owner experienced an event himself and called us. So it’s basically still untouched.”

They haven’t even reached the end of the driveway yet, passing by seemingly endless rows of tall, gnarled pines. Admittedly, Grian’s curiosity is piqued. When he agreed to join this stupid ghost hunting group three years ago, he didn’t do so in the hopes of actually discovering any real paranormal activity. The whole idea is laughable. Ghost hunting is a pseudoscience, at best. Just a bunch of idiots scaring themselves silly in an empty house- and now they’re the idiots! Even their name is stupid: Ghost Investigation Group Services, or GIGS, embroidered on their ill-fitting pleather jumpsuits.

But despite his outright skepticism and dislike for pulling late nights in his already extremely limited free time, Grian’s got one very good reason for agreeing to join.

And his name is Scar.

Grian spent half a semester pining away at the fellow architecture major from across the lecture halls of their many shared classes. Charismatic and easy on the eyes, it was inevitable that Grian would develop a bit of a crush. But as they spent more time together during class projects and conversations in the hallway, he found out just how kind-hearted and passionate Scar was, and how easy he was to talk to, and how strong his arms looked in long-sleeved shirts…

… Yeah, ‘crush’ perhaps isn’t the right word.

So when Impulse- the engineering major who Grian was partnered with for physics lab- got the brilliant idea to start a ghost-hunting group with his best friend and roommate Skizz, and Scar expressed interest in joining, Grian made a split-second decision in a moment of weakness. He maintained his skepticism, claiming that he wanted to tag along just to prove how silly the whole idea was. Impulse was fine with it, while Scar said Grian had to wear the same uniform as them, and the rest was history.

(To be fair, that was before Grian knew it’d be a pleather jumpsuit.)

So here they are now nearly three years later, rumbling down a long gravel road in the dark and cold, up late on a Saturday night even though he still isn’t finished with his condominium model that’s due at 8 am on Monday and he’s fresh out of popsicle sticks. Moments like these almost make Grian wish he could just ask a guy out like a normal person, so they could spend time together without chasing pretend ghosts around dusty houses all night.

But that’d require him to talk about his feelings. Ugh, he’d rather let the ghosts get him.

“Alright.” Impulse slows the van to a halt. The doors unlock with a heavy clunk. “What do you guys think?”

Grian isn’t expecting much when he glances out the window. But the sight that greets him immediately prompts a hasty exit from the vehicle, scarcely noticing the sudden chill, his jaw dropping open in awe.

It’s a Victorian. Not a house that someone has mistakenly called ‘Victorian’ just because it looks old. A genuine, honest-to-goodness, Queen Anne’s style two-story Victorian manor with an asymmetrical facade and a rounded corner tower and a generous wrap-around porch, silhouetted against the fading light of the evening sky.

Grian reaches for his flashlight. Sweeping over the exterior, his breath catches. Knots of ivy creep up the walls, and there are a few places where the intricate wood trim has been lost to previous repairs and weather damage. A couple of the windows are bricked up. Most of the paint is faded and peeling. But overall? It’s beautiful.

“Oh man,” Grian murmurs, pushing his glasses back up, “look at the shape of it... look at the dormers!”

A second beam of light joins in; Scar’s emerged from the van. “Lots of character,” he says, sounding similarly entranced. “And still in great condition! Oh, it’s beautiful. It’s enough to make a man cry.”

Impulse hops out of the driver’s seat, chuckling. “I knew you two would like it. It’s an ‘85.”

Grian gives an appreciative whistle. “Look, I still don’t think we’re gonna find anythin’,” he says with a sideways look at Scar, “but I gotta tell ya… if- if I were a ghost… I think I’d haunt a proper house like this. Not those builder-grade boxes in the suburbs.”

“Right?” Impulse says, his forked tail flicking through the air. “That’s what I’m sayin’... I uh, I think this place has real potential.”

Skizz, who’s come around the van to stand with them, nods thoughtfully. “Definitely somethin’ special ‘bout it, that’s for true,” he says, exchanging a look with Impulse. Then he claps his hands together. “Alright gentlemen, let’s get movin’!”

Impulse and Skizz turn towards the van, heading to open the back.

Grian stares after them, squinting suspiciously. That wasn’t just any look. That was a Look. A Look that he knows all too well. They had that same Look on their faces at last year’s frat mixer, when they rigged the speakers at the Heta Kappa house to play ‘Margaritaville’ every time someone flushed a toilet.

It means that they’re Up To Something.

… Grian’s sure he’ll find out sooner or later.

“Well, Grian,” Scar says, hands on his hips as he surveys the property, “if it’s any connotation, at least we’ll get to study some real architecture tonight.”

Grian gives him a bemused look. “Consolation?”

Scar blinks. “Cono- what, what’d I say? Con- coronation?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, ey,” Grian chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

~*~

“Check it out, dude,” Skizz calls excitedly, “temp’s dropping in here! Five degrees colder than the rest of the house!”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s an east-facing room and the sun’s only just set, of course it’s colder than the rest of the house,” he says, idly passing his UV glow stick over an armchair. No prints, of course. “I doubt they’ve updated the insulation anytime within the last two decades.”

“And hey, look,” Impulse chimes in from the corner, “I’ve got EMF 1.3!”

Grian doesn’t even look up. “There’s an exposed outlet in here and I’ll bet the wiring’s older than I am. And in any case, it’s still below the recommended threshold.” Ew, okay, now that’s a suspicious UV stain on the floor, but not of the supernatural kind…

“Oh, it’s definitely not up to code,” Impulse agrees. He waves his EMF reader around a bit, making the pitch warble. “But I dunno, I think this must be the ghost’s favorite room. Might not be here right now, but I’m getting some real vibes…”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Sure…” 

Twenty minutes in, and despite the house’s hauntingly elegant construction, it’s been the same old story. The house is empty and quiet, as abandoned houses tend to be. Quite sparse, as most of the furnishings probably went to auction. The furniture that’s left is covered with tarps and every surface is coated with a fine layer of dust. He can smell mold somewhere in the floorboards and there’s apparent water damage in the ceiling.

The only renovation attempted thus far was the removal of some cheap linoleum tiles that were laid in the kitchen at some point- a renovation Grian can heartily agree with, there’s some absolutely gorgeous hardwood underneath- but they didn’t get far. The removed tiles are still sitting about in a haphazard pile, hammer and chisel abandoned on the floor beside them. Frantic footsteps smeared in the dust and powder paint the scene of a terrified contractor fleeing for their life from the reported ‘ghostly hauntings’. 

In any case, they haven’t heard any activity from the spirit box, nothing unusual has stood out on UV, and the salt Impulse laid out is still undisturbed. Surprise, surprise. Grian’s spent most of his time admiring the elaborate wooden trims lining every wall, scuffed as they are. What he wouldn’t give to properly restore this place…

“Hey, Dipple Dop?” Skizz calls suddenly. “Your radio working okay?”

Impulse gives him a curious look. “Huh? What, is there-” He pauses, glancing down at his radio. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, actually, mine’s on the fritz, must be overdue a battery change.”

“Oh?” Grian tilts his head innocently. “You don’t think it’s a ghoooost?”

Impulse purses his lips. “I don’t think everything is a ghost,” he says mildly. He clips the radio onto his belt, turning to the door. “I’ve got extras in the van, hang on…”

“I’ll go, too,” Skizz says quickly, slinging an arm and his wing around Impulse’s shoulders. “Buddy system! You know what, I- I’m tellin’ you, you never split up when hunting ghosts. That’s how they get you, dude.”

Oh. Oh, no.

Grian gives them a warning Look.

They give him a cheeky Look back.

“Yup, yeah, that’s true,” Impulse says with obvious feigned sincerity, steering Skizz out of the room. “So uh, you two keep at it, okay, and we’ll be right back…”

“Oh, okay!” Scar says cheerfully, busy setting up the tripod over in the corner and completely oblivious to their scheme. “Have a great time not getting murdered!”

Grian opens his mouth to protest, but Impulse and Skizz are already gone out the front door. Leaving him and Scar completely alone. Totally by coincidence, surely. Oh, he knew his drunken confession to Impulse at the school’s annual bar crawl fundraiser night would come back to bite him eventually.

It’s almost insulting, in a way. Like they think the only reason Grian hasn’t made a move is because he hasn’t had ample alone time with Scar. Like he needed them to give him an opportunity. But if he’d wanted to confess to Scar, he already would have. He’d have had it well done by now. They could give him a little credit.

See, the thing is, he’s thought about it. Plenty of times, in fact. But the issue he keeps coming back to is that if he tells Scar about his crush on him, then Scar will know about it. There’ll be no going back at that point. And if Scar doesn’t feel the same way- well, Grian can kiss their friendship goodbye. So yeah, no, he doesn’t think he’ll be making any dramatic love confessions tonight, strangely enough.

The risk of an awkward silence developing is astronomical, so Grian clears his throat. “Man… isn’t this place somethin’,” he says, then immediately fights the urge to cringe.

Scar, luckily, gives an emphatic nod. “It is, it truly is amazing.” He straightens up, dusting his hands off as he turns to Grian. “You know who’d really love this place, is Gem?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Grian agrees. He busies himself with the UV, so he’s not just standing around. “We should take some pictures for her.”

“Oh, good idea!” Giving the tripod a final once-over, Scar wanders over to Grian. “So, any fingering goin’ on, yet?”

Grian nearly drops his glow stick. “Sorry- any what?!” he screeches, whirling around on Scar.

“You know, ghost fingers!” Scar says, perfectly innocent. He holds his hands up, wiggling his fingers in demonstration. “On the- on the glowy light?”

Grian takes a deep breath, face burning. “Oh Scar, buddy, you gotta think through your words better before you say them, alright?”

“Whaaat?” Scar pretends like he doesn’t know. “What, I’m just- you’ve got the stick, you know, little glow stick for when the ghost touches, uh-”

“Nevermind,” Grian groans. “Anyways, no, I haven’t found any ghostly handprints and I never will, because ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar folds his arms. “Well, hey, maybe the ghost is just polite! You know, he- maybe he’s just minding his business, not touching anything or- or anyone. Just because we don’t get anything on UV doesn’t mean ghosts aren’t real, I’ll have you know.”

Grian sees the challenge for what it is. “Alright…” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his spirit box. Holding the transponder to his lips, he belts out, “Where ahhre yewww?” in his best imitation of an over-exaggerated pop-punk accent. If Impulse and Skizz are eavesdropping through their radios, he hopes he gave them a start.

Scar laughs. “Oh man, been a while since I heard that one! You-”

I’m close.

Grian jumps so badly he nearly drops the box, his wings puffing out involuntarily. “What?! Wha- who said that?” he demands, spinning around.

Scar blinks at him. “What? Did you hear something through the box?”

“I- I dunno?” Grian says uncertainly. The box seems to be working as normal; when he holds the receiver down, there’s a faint hiss of static, and the bulb remains white. No further noises come from the speaker.

After a couple seconds of tense listening, Grian feels silly. Way to play it cool. He switches the box off with an exasperated sigh. “No, of course I didn’t hear anything through the box. Like I said, ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar hums noncommittally. “Oh, Grian... you know, there are some things in the world that can’t be explained.” 

Grian snorts. “Oh, yeah? Well, I- I got a few explanations for ya.” He counts on his fingers. “It could’ve been this old house creaking in the wind, or an electrical surge causing feedback through the transponder, or- or, not to mention, Impulse and Skizz pranking us through the radio?”

Scar snickers. “That does sound like something they’d do, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah.” Grian slips the box back into his pocket. “And y’know, being in a creepy abandoned house, after dark, out in the middle’a nowhere... it’s easy to think you’re hearin’ things.”

Scar rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond. “I know, I know, so you’ve told me. But one of these days, mister, you’re gonna eat your words.”

“Right,” Grian drawls. “I’m so scared…”

The front door slams shut.

That makes Grian pause. They always leave the front door open while out on a job. It saves time when they have to go back and forth from the van, and saves battery life on their radios when they can just shout to each other through the open doorway. Obviously this job is a little different, because Impulse and Skizz have clearly got it in their heads to try and get him and Scar together, but he wouldn’t think they’d go so far as to-

The lights suddenly flicker and go out. But in the split-second before they do, Grian sees a shadowy figure silhouetted against the door.

Pure instinct takes over. Grian spins on his heel, grabs Scar by the arm, and absolutely flies down the stairs to the basement. He knows they’ve disturbed one or two piles of salt but right now, he can’t bring himself to care. His wings are bumping against the walls and he’s certainly never tried carrying someone as big as Scar before but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even process the ache of it rattling through his body. He bursts into the basement, feathers flying, and careens towards the back of the room, around a tall shelving unit, and into the corner.

There’s a heap of boxes stacked up in this corner; Grian unceremoniously shoves Scar over top of them, dropping him in the narrow space between the boxes and the wall. He’s wedged in as far as he can himself, laying across the boxes, his double pair of wings preventing him from squeezing in beside Scar. He’s still got the UV light clenched in his fist, he realizes belatedly- he braces his forearms against the wall to try and cover it, fanning his wings out behind him to block it out from the rest of the room. Glancing back over his shoulder, he tries to gauge how much light is getting through when a noise makes him freeze.

Footsteps.

They’re soft and light- certainly not the heavy boots of Impulse or Skizz. No, they sound almost barefoot. And as they gently tap down the stairs, the sound of giggling fills the air. It’s a feminine voice. Young, like a child. Like a little ghostie girl is prancing down the stairs to murder them.

Grian thinks he might pass out. Can ghosts actually kill people? How would they do it if they’re incorporeal? He’s never considered the question before, he never thought he’d have to because it’s ridiculous, ghosts aren’t real, of course they can’t kill people-

The footsteps stop. 

Grian isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. He doesn’t dare move. A chill runs up his spine, making every single feather stand on end. He can almost hear the high-pitched violins that would be playing right now if this were a horror movie; the cheesy, overdrawn kind of horror movies that are always playing at the drive-in that the four of them watch while piled into the back of the van in a tangle of limbs and spilled popcorn and oh god he’s spiraling now because he’s about to be killed by a ghost-

Bye-bye!

The chill recedes. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he sees the faint glow of light from upstairs return.

It’s over.

Grian’s mind is spinning. What was that? What was that? It seems impossible, it doesn’t even feel real to be in this situation right now but he is, there was a ghost, there was a ghost. It feels insane to even think it. But the residual adrenaline coursing through his body reminds him it was very real, he just encountered a ghost.

A ghost! Oh, after three years of very loudly decrying the entire concept as rubbish. He can’t believe it. He really can’t believe it, this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen tonight. Ghosts are real. Ghosts are really, really, real. He doesn’t know what to do, who would ever believe him? Is this how the others have been feeling this whole time? God, he can’t believe this-

“G...?” Scar’s voice pipes up hesitantly. “What... what are we doing?”

Oh, right. Grian glances down at Scar- and his heart jolts. He’d been so focused on getting away from the ghost, he’d acted without thinking, so only now does he realize the... predicament he’s put them in.

Scar’s slumped against the floor beneath him, head tucked just below Grian’s arms. His long legs are still draped over the box that Grian’s laying across, resting on either side of his waist. And due to the odd posture Grian’s in, his chest has been thrust rather close to Scar’s face, lit by the soft purple glow of the UV.

This is probably the closest Grian has ever been to sitting in Scar’s lap.

Grian’s not proud of the yelp that escapes him. “Sorry, sorry!” His wings flail as he struggles to push himself off of the wall, stumbling back onto his feet. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated and he nearly falls backwards, his heart pounding.

Scar manages a laugh, easing himself up off the floor. “No, no, it’s okay, I- I just... what- why’d you bring us down here?” he asks, dusting off his jumpsuit.

Grian catches his breath. “Wait, you... didn’t hear the creepy ghost on its way to kill us?” he asks, frowning.

Scar‘s eyes widen. “What? There was a ghost?”

No way.

“Are you-!” Grian throws his arms up. “Honestly, I- I know avians have better hearing than most but that’s insane. She was laughing! Laughing and skipping down the blumin’ steps! And you didn’t hear any of it?”

“No…?” Scar shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry, okay! I- I don’t know, I was- a lot was happening, you- you’re grabbin’ me, pulling me down the stairs and into this little corner, I didn’t know what was going on! I didn’t know, I- I was all disconbodulated- disco- bobo, bobumated? I was a little distracted, okay. Jeeze, give a man a break…”

“Distracted?” Grian repeats incredulously. “You’re the one who actually believes in ghosts, here, how could you get distracted? What do you…”

He trails off. Scar is very clearly fighting to avoid looking at Grian, but for the briefest moment, his eyes dart down to Grian’s chest. Suddenly confused, Grian follows his gaze, and-

Oh, for goodness sakes. At some point during his frantic flight, the stupid zipper on his stupid jumpsuit came down again, exposing a frankly scandalous amount of skin. Not Scar-level of scandalous, but pretty close.

Grian immediately feels himself turn red. “Oh. Uh- right,” he hastily pulls the zipper back up, “sorry ‘bout that…”

Wait. Wait just a second. 

Scar was distracted from a literal ghost hunt going on... because Grian’s bare chest was showing? Does that... does that mean he liked it? 

Scar’s avoiding his gaze again. His cheeks are tinted pink.

“Scar...?” Grian ventures carefully. “Were you... lookin’ at my chest?”

Scar’s cheeks darken. “Ah, I- I- don’t- I mean, why would you- I didn’t mean to, it’s just...” He fumbles for the words. “What- what am I- hey, your pecs were basically in my face! I wasn’t trying to look, I- I just-”

“Scar,” Grian says, keeping his voice light and teasing, “did ya… did you like what you saw?”

Scar splutters for a moment. “Well, sure, Grian,” he tries to laugh it off, “I mean, anyone- anyone with eyes can see you’re uh, you know, you’re- you’re pretty attractive. I- I’m secure enough to say it, I don’t care, it’s- sure, of course, you’re very muscular! You’re a- you’re a muscular man, it’s just not always obvious with the sweaters you wear. Or- sorry, you call them jumpers in Britain land, right, they’re jumpers-”

“You been checkin’ me out, Scar?” Grian asks, caught somewhere between playfulness and utter disbelief.

“Uh...” Scar rubs the back of his neck. He exhales slowly, clearly debating with himself. “I... maybe? What... what would you say... if that were the case?”

Grian swallows. His heart is absolutely racing now, and he’s broken into a cold sweat that’s definitely not supernatural in origin. The air between them feels fragile; he’s acutely aware that a single word from him could swiftly plunge them back into the realm of safe familiarity, of casual light-hearted teasing between friends. Scar’s always said things that bordered on the flirtatious, and Grian can hide behind the plausible deniability of teasing. This entire interaction doesn’t have to mean anything. It can be easily moved past and forgotten.

And yet, strangely enough… Grian doesn’t want it to. Maybe it’s the post-haunting adrenaline or the fact that he could’ve died tonight, but all of a sudden, he feels like taking a chance. Like he could finally say what he’s wanted to say for the last three years. He managed to hold his own against a blumin’ ghost, for goodness sakes- he should be able to face his own feelings head on.

He takes a breath. “I’d say that’s a relief… ‘cause I’ve been checkin’ you out since day one of first year.”

Scar stares at him for a long moment. His expression is utterly unreadable. The silence draws on long enough that Grian feels a spike of panic, worried that maybe he’s mishandled the situation-

 “... oh my god,” Scar says finally. “Really?”

It sounds like the good kind of surprise. Grian offers a shy smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he admits. “I- Scar, I know I’m real good at playin’ these things close to the vest, but uh, I- I’ve had a massive crush on you since... basically since the day we met.”

“Huh.” Scar blinks. “You’re serious. You- you’re not pranking me right now?”

That startles a laugh out of Grian. “No! Scar, I don’t- we just survived being hunted by a ghost, I’m not pranking you!”

“Well, that’s- that’s amazing!” A grin spreads across Scar’s face- and man, oh man, does he have just the most wonderful smile. “Oh my gosh, G, I don’t- you don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

The relief is almost overwhelming. “Yeah, me too!” Grian laughs, half-dazed and half-giddy, running a hand through his hair. “I- I even- look, the whole reason I even joined this group was as an excuse to hang out with you!”

Scar’s mouth falls open. “No way! That’s- that’s the whole reason I joined in the first place, too!”

Now it’s Grian’s turn to gawk. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not!” Scar insists, “I swear, I’m not- Impulse said he wanted to start the group and maybe we’d all join and get to hang out and I thought ‘hey, ghosts are cool and Grian is cool’ so I just-”

“Oh, I can’t believe this…” Grian groans, hiding his burning face in his hands. “We really are idiots, we’ve wasted nearly three years…”

Scar’s hands close around Grian’s wrists, lightly pulling them down from his face. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he says smoothly, leaning in.

Corny, but Grian will allow it. He closes the gap, tilting his head up to meet Scar’s lips.

In that moment, everything else fades away. All the nervousness, all the second-guessing, even the bombshell discovery of the existence of ghosts- there could be one standing in front of them right now and Grian wouldn’t care. The way Scar gathers Grian in his arms, hands gently roving through his feathers- it’s bliss. It’s perfect.

Scar kisses him strong and purposefully, with no trace of carelessness or haste. He doesn’t rush. There’s intent written into every single movement, jaw working to deepen the kiss. Grian curls against him, hands splayed across Scar’s chest. He can feel Scar’s heart pounding through his flushed skin, and it’s wildly exciting- to think Scar is just as breathless as he is. 

Growing bold, Grian dares to slip his tongue into Scar’s mouth, and the noise he makes- part surprise, part delight- sends pure electricity fizzling up his spine. His mind is starting to drift away from him, lost in the sensation of weightlessness, of floating, that almost makes him feel like he’s gone completely incorporeal- like his own spirit has become untethered from the mortal coil.

Then Skizz’s voice comes down the stairs.

“G-Sharp! Scarface! You down here? We just saw a freaking ghost on the cams, and- oh my god!”

Grian breaks away from Scar, but not quick enough. He turns to see Skizz and Impulse standing at the bottom of the stairs, expressions shocked. And then, as if they’d rehearsed it, they both break into massive shit-eating grins and spin around to high-five each other.

“Woo!” Impulse cheers. “We got ‘em! Ladies and gentlemen, we finally got them.”

“Yeah, baby!” Skizz pumps his fist in the air. “Oh, I love it!”

“Oh, would you two stop it?” Grian huffs, but he’s not really cross. Hard to be cross when he’s on cloud nine. “The ghost did most of the work, alright?”

“That’s right,” Scar sniffs, winding an arm around Grian’s waist. “You know, I- I’m startin’ to think you all were in cahoots! Cahoots, I say!”

“Dude, if only,” Skizz laughs, walking over to clap them on the shoulders. “Could not have planned it better, that’s amazing. Well done, gentlemen!”

“Yeah, it’s about time!” Impulse adds, crossing his arms. “I was starting to think we’d graduate before either of you fessed up, I- I had to take drastic measures…”

“Impulse,” Grian says warningly, “if you’re about to tell me you started this whole paranormal investigation group just as a way to push me and Scar into confronting our feelings, I swear-”

“No, no,” Impulse assures him, chuckling. “I really do like the ghost-hunting deal, don’t worry. But uh, we did deliberately ditch you guys in the hopes that something would happen.”

Scar waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, things happened, alright.”

“Scar!” Grian swats at him, but he’s laughing and it feels good. It feels right. After all this time spent worrying about worst-case scenarios, about denying his feelings for the sake of maintaining the comfortable mundanity of his comfortable life, it turns out the scariest part was the fear itself.

The irony doesn’t escape his notice. A bit on the nose, if he’s honest.

“But in even bigger news,” Impulse graciously continues, “you saw the ghost? And you believed it? You, Mr. Non-Believer in all things ghostly?”

Grian sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I know…”

“This is incredible!” Skizz claps his hands together. “Okay, okay, we gotta go cleanse the area and I wanna hear everything, got it? Don’t leave a single detail out!”

Grian slips his hand into Scar’s as they follow Impulse and Skizz back up the stairs. “Yeah, alright,” he relents. He supposes he’s due for a lot of ‘I told you so’s’. But really, it’s a small price to pay for the life-altering knowledge that ghosts are real… and for finally finding the courage to believe in something extraordinary.

Scar hums. “Wait, details about the ghost or about the kissing?”

“Scar!”

~*~

[vinnieswife]

Hi bby, I love your work and I was wondering if you could do a Vinnie smut where it's the readers birthday and Vinnie wakes her up with... Ykw and this part can be optional but when they're done their hype friends walk in and see them naked. I would appreciate it bby 😘

Of course! I love this idea :)

Vinnie Hacker x fem!reader

Words: 1387

Warnings: smut ofc, p in v, oral (fem receiving), slow/romantic (?) sex, exhibitionism and Vinnie being his own warning

Author’s note: I really loved this idea, I didn't really know how to do the exhibitionism part but I hope you like it! Thanks for the order annon! 💕btw thank you sm for 470 followers! Thank y’all for always being here☺️

You woke up to a wet feeling on your neck, the light entered the room through the thin curtains, the sheets were cold and the smell of earth and wet grass entered through the window and flooded your nostrils.

Vinnie's hair tickled your cheek, while he continued to deliver kisses from the base of your neck to your jaw, you yawned causing all of Vinnie's attention to focus on you. "Good morning birthday girl" you smiled at the nickname "mhm good morning Vin" he got up and left a chaste kiss on your lips. "I should give you my gift later but I can't wait" "what is it?" You asked curiously. "You'll see" when the words left his lips a mischievous smile adorned them.

Quickly Vinnie was placed on top of you, one hand at the height of your head while the other drew strokes on your hip, his eyes were fixed on yours, while a smile adorned his face, the hand that was on your hip rose up to your cheek, brushing a couple of patches of hair out of the way and leaving soft caresses on your skin, the chains that hung from his neck swaying back and forth at a slow pace, Vinnie descended slightly to leave a kiss on your lips, longer and deeper than the previous one.

His eyes flickered to your exposed chest, you were both naked from the events of the night before, his lips made contact with your neck again, this time licking each of the previous night's marks and marking a few new ones, one of his hands ascended to grab your chest, turning your nipple between his fingers pulling a moan from your throat, Vinnie smiled while leaving a mark on your clavicle, his mouth descended until he reached your nipple, getting into his mouth, his tongue hot and wet turning around the little bud making you throw your head back on the pillows, "oh god Vin" You moaned.

He released your nipple with a 'pop' and focused on the other giving it the same treatment, his fingers twisting and poking the little bud he had just released while his teeth were busy biting around your chest and collarbone. “are you enjoying it? " He asked knowing very well the answer, even so, you nodded letting out a little whimper, "you know the rules love, use your words" Vinnie whispered leaving a trail of kisses down your abdomen, "Ah Vin yes, I'm enjoying it" " that's my good girl."

Vinnie kept going down until he was face to face with your sex, caressing your thighs with his hands "please" "please what princess?" "Please touch me" Vinnie smiled before beginning to spread kisses down your inner thighs, leaving marks and bites at his pleasure, waving from each bite he licked the mark carefully to try to alleviate a bit of the pain.

His tongue finally made contact with your pussy, making you moan and roll your eyes back, his mouth explored all of your sex, leaving soft licks and small bites. His tongue start moving in a fast pace between your folds, playing around your hole, his tongue moving in and out at a torturing slowly pace, his tongue giving your hole little strokes, he goes up again at your clit, sucking on it harshly.

"Do you have any idea how well you taste princess?" Vinnie asked you as he stopped to breathe, "I could be here testing you for hours and hours" you let out a whimper trying to get a little tug on his hair, but he was quicker and ragged them, placing them against the bed.

"Without touching love" he provoked you while continuing to torture you with his tongue.

Kissing everywhere, licking everywhere, biting you here and there.

"Vin I-"

"Hold it"

"Vin please" you begged with a little whimper

"Not yet" he replied, re-inserting his tongue in your entrance, you clench hard around his tongue trying to hold the orgasm that was about to explode, his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking hard, making you moan and turn your eyes back, "Vinnie please, I can't take it anymore." At this point the tears prickled the corners of your eyes. You started to feel the tight sensation in your stomach, getting more closer to your release Vinnie's tongue doesn't slow down for a second, in fact it just speed up 'till you cum all over his mouth and chin, you expect him to stop,but he shoves his fingers into your hole and attaches his mouth to your clit, sucking on it harshly, making you scream again,he growls, pushing his fingers further into your hole. "Cum then" and you let go, your head was spinning and his throat let out a moan of pleasure, thank god the walls were silenced by Vinnie's screams during live shows, Vinnie quickly licked every drop of your juices, his lips covered in them.

Vinnie quickly rose to face to face with you, kissing you hard so that you could taste yourself on his tongue, the kiss continued for a few seconds before you separated due to lack of air, your breathing was agitated and you noticed how the environment of the room was starting to get hotter and hotter. Vinnie's eyes were covered in lust causing his pupils to be dilated to the max, almost covering the honey color of his irises.

"You don't know how much I love you" he whispered staring at you.

"I love you too" you whispered back as you caressed his cheeks.

You felt how he lined up with your entrance, playing with you until you could not take it anymore, the tip moving between your folds to make some friction, you whimpered waiting for him to enter once and for all. Vinnie just laughed at your suffering, enjoying the pleading look in your eyes, after a few minutes of teasing he decided to give you what you wanted, after all it was your birthday.

You both moaned at the contact of his cock with your walls, Vinnie sighed at how narrow you were, his hands found yours, joining his fingers with yours creating a firm grip on you, his eyes fixed on yours while his hips established a fast pace over yours.

His breathing was agitated as he tried to maintain his composure, your eyes were closed while you enjoyed the moment, the atmosphere was warm and calm, something perfect, Vinnie's head fell on your shoulder as he growled, he began to leave soft kisses on your neck while repeating how much I loved you as if it were a mantra. The rhythm of Vinnie's lunges accelerated and became a bit more clumsy, that only indicated that he was close, you weren't far behind either, a couple more lunges and you came.

A High pitched moan leaves your throat, and a couple of moans of Vinnie’s name, Your orgasm quickly caused Vinnie's, causing him to moan your name, and groan in pleasure, after you both enjoyed your orgasms Vinnie broke away from you, but kept on over you, grabbed a sheet and covered you both, nothing plus placing his head in the crook of your neck the door to your room slammed open, revealing all the hype house guys with a big cake that read "Happy Birthday Y/n!" You screamed at being naked in front of all your friends, when suddenly Michael made a wonderful comment "this room smells like sex, but good sex" and laugh he was while leaving the room.

You were red as hell and you could barely look at their faces without looking down, Vinnie on the other hand seemed proud of what had just happened.

"I-uh yeah- I think I'll leave the cake in the kitchen-yeah" Mia left the door closing it.

You hit Vinnie a pillow making him laugh, "happy birthday love" he said with a laugh.

DONT REBLOG MY WORK!!

[fictional-lvr]

Goodnight, Angel-G.W

A/N; y’all plz okay this is kinda bad but plz reblog

warning; smut, no actual sex

-----------------------

You found yourself sitting in a circle in the Burrow, surrounded by your best friends, Ron, George, Fred, and Hermione. Your best friend in the entire world was Hermione, with George being a close second. The only thing that Hermione knew that George didn’t, was how in love you were with the fiery-headed boy, something that Hermione relentlessly teased you about. It was quite late, everyone else had gone to sleep except for your little group, and so the five of you had the `great idea` of playing some dumb game where you either had to truthfully answer a question, or take a shot. So far, all of you were at least buzzed, which probably meant that things would get a lil stupid from now on.

“okay. Y/N,” Ron started, giggling along with Hermione, “who’s the hottest person in the room?” Ron could barely get out the question between his and Hermione's’ snickering. You looked around at everyone in the room, pretending to consider for a moment before you spoke 

“George.” You stated confidently, smirking at George and earning laughs and giggles from everyone in the room, including him. “Okay go go it’s your turn now!” Hermione encouraged, you chuckled at the sight of tipsy Hermione before turning to Fred and George, who were sitting right beside each other. “Alright, so, this question goes to both of you, cause’ you’re like the same person basically, or whatever, anyways you both have to answer” You rambled, the amount of shots you’ve had catching up with you. George took a swig of firewhiskey before smirking at you. “Ask away, darling.” He replied, his voice covered in a mocking tone for your previous answer. “Right. Biggest kink?” You asked casually, watching as Fred choked on his drink, laughing even harder than Ron and Hermione, and as George burst out laughing along with him, throwing you a wink before telling Fred to go first. “Erm- I dunno, I don’t think ‘m really all that kinky, although I’m quite fond of the idea of a girl wearing a collar for me,” Fred admitted, awkwardly clearing his throat by the end of his sentence. “No shame in that, Freddie, it is kinda hot if I’m being honest” You casually stated, comforting Freds’ nerves. “Your turn, Georgie~” You sing-songed, looking at George expectantly. George quickly took a shot and inhaled deeply, earning a chorus of ‘boos’ from everyone else. “Calm down you maniacs, I’m still gonna answer” He said in fake annoyance, waving everyone off. He took another deep breath before speaking, “Well, darling, where would you like me to start?” His eyes were locked with yours as he grinned, leaving you damn-near speechless, you had always had quite the flirty relationship with him, but never to this extent. He chuckled at your flustered appearance, continuing on with his answer. “Dunno really, m’ into a lot of things, believe it or not. But, I guess I’ll just be basic and say dom/sub dynamic.” He stated casually, shrugging his shoulders as if he hadn’t just left you with a million more fantasies.

-

The game continued a while, until you all decided that it was late, and you definitely shouldn’t get actually drunk in the middle of the night, at the Burrow. You walked up to George and lightly punched his shoulder to get his attention, “What’s up, darling?” He asked, stopping his path to his room and leaning onto the wall to talk to you. You cringed at yourself a little before asking a favor, “I don’t have any clean pajamas, could I borrow a shirt or something?” George raised an eyebrow and flicked his eyes up and down your body before nodding and waving you into his room. You sat down on his bed as you watched him rummage around in his clothes. Finally, he tossed you an old Nirvana shirt, one that definitely looked good on him, and a pair of boxers. “There ya’ go, let me know if that’s uncomfortable or somethin’, and I’ll grab you something else, yeah?” You nodded and smiled at him before slipping into the bathroom to change, you could smell George on his shirt, he smelled of campfire wood and caramel, a scent you had quickly become fond of when you met him. You shook the thoughts of the hopeless-romantic out of your head, before padding back into Georges’ room. “How do I look?” You asked in a sweet tone, twirling around with a giggle. George chuckled before closing his book and looking at you, “small. you look small.” He stated, snickering as you pouted at him. “M’ not small, you’re just weird. Now, hush and let me read with you” You responded, quickly walking over to Georges’ bed before throwing yourself onto it next to him. He laughed as the bounce of his bed caused the book to fall off, you noticed him shifting uncomfortably as he leaned to retrieve it, the sight of you in nothing but his shirt and boxers- well it was enough to create some discomfort, although you sat next to him, entirely oblivious to how you effected the poor boy. 

You rested your head on Georges’ shoulder as he softly read aloud to you, something that he often did to help you sleep, as you always had some trouble falling asleep the first night of a stay at the Burrow. As his smooth voice read the pages to life, you couldn’t help but let your mind wonder, thinking about anything and everything you wished George Weasley would do to you. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt a pool of wetness start to form- while you were wearing Georges’ boxers, nonetheless. You shifted a little, trying to subtly rub your thighs together in attempts to relieve the tension. George noticed this exact movement, interrupting himself from his book, “You alright, Bug?” He asked, smiling sweetly at you. Bug, it was a nickname he gave you when you met, because, as he said, ‘you couldn’t even hurt a bug, could you?’. You nodded at him and hummed out a “Mhm”, although, what was supposed to be a hum, came out much more like a squeak than you had intended. “Are you uncomfortable? I could grab a different pair of boxers and throw those in the wash if you’d like-” He could barely get his sentence out before you blurted out a panicked “Uh- no, no, erm, they’re fine, thank you” George raised his eyebrow at you with an amused look on his face, “Alright, m’ gonna keep reading then” He stated, shrugging and continuing on with the story. A couple minutes had gone by and you’d managed to calm down enough to act like your normal self, after having mentally cursed yourself for acting so weird when he asked you if you were alright. “Georgieeee, you’re taking up too much space on the bed” You whined, staring at him with a pout and puppy dog eyes, he playfully rolled his eyes at you before pulling you onto his lap without a word, your back to his chest so you could both still see the book. “Better?” He asked in a teasing voice, you only nodded, not trusting your voice not to betray you again. “Good. now, either go back to your regular room, or quit being a brat and let me continue reading, hm?” His voice was still in that teasing tone, and you wondered if he had any clue at all what his words were doing to you. You felt the wetness caused by his words building between your thighs and into Georges’ boxers, leaving you flushed and flustered. Your lips parted slightly when he casually shifted a bit under you, putting pressure directly onto your clothed heat, and you let out a shaky breath, one that you were convinced George didn’t hear, but, of course, he did, simply writing it off as nothing.

Another few minutes passed by of George reading to you as you were on his lap, moving around seemingly every 30 seconds, but you honestly couldn’t help it, it was impossible to find a comfy position in the state you were in. Eventually, you heard George take in a sharp breath when you shifted in his lap. “Darling, I’m gonna have to ask you to stop moving so much, you’re distracting me from the book, love” His voice came out slightly strained towards the end of his sentence, and you didn’t even think before blurting out, “How come?” George let out a breathy laugh before responding, “Love, I- well, I’m sure you can tell, now please let me help you sleep so that we can forget that this ever happened.” His voice still confident as ever, but with some hint of embarrassment behind it. You mumbled out a shy “sorry”, trying your best to stay still. “No worries, darling. m’ gonna change into something for sleep, okay?” He waited for you to nod before lifting you off his lap, placing you down onto his bed, and walking over to his clothes. You expected him to grab something and go to change in the bathroom, but, much to your surprise, and, lets admit it, pleasure, you watched as George tugged off his shirt and pants before sliding on some plaid pajama pants, something you always had a soft spot for when he would wear them. Damn, this was certainly not helping your predicament. George placed you back onto his lap and continued reading until you were laying back onto his chest, with your head on his shoulder. “I know you’re still not tired yet, love, but it’s late. You can sleep in here with me but I think I’m gonna have to put the book up for tonight.” He told you, putting the book on the floor next to his bed, earning a whine from you. He chuckled, “C’mon, darling, you gotta try to sleep.” He said, rubbing his hand up and down your waist before shifting under you to get into the best position to lift you off of his lap. The way he moved both caused his thigh to run up your inner thigh, and for the fabric of his boxers to graze across your clit. A quiet, almost inaudible, whine, escaped your lips at the feeling. George froze all movement when he heard it, trying his best to keep control over the tent in his pants that you hadn’t yet noticed. Your hands flew to cover your face in utter embarrassment, you felt tears sting your eyes as you slid off of Georges’ lap, too ashamed to even look at him. You felt him move to sit in front of you on the plush bed, gently placing his hands on your shoulders, although you didn’t dare uncover your face. “Bug? Hey, look at me, what’s wrong?” You could hear the sincerity in his voice, but you were just to embarrassed to look at him. “Buggy, it’s alright I- hell I got a semi from you moving around on me” He admitted, the last part coming out as more of a whisper than a statement. You let out a muffled groan of embarrassment, still covering your face and you let your head fall forward in your oblivious soulmates chest. He moved his hands around to your back, holding you in a sweet hug. He giggled quietly, “Aw, darling,” He started, chuckling a bit before continuing, “I know it was just the friction of it, love, it’s alright, I know it doesn’t mean anything” He soothed, gliding his hands up and down your back, trying to ignore the pang in his heart that he felt when he said it meant nothing. You sniffled, shaking your head, feeling more tears rolling down your cheeks. You took a deep breath before pulling away from George, and finally looking him in the eye. Your next words came out so quietly that George almost didn’t hear them, “it wasn’t nothing,” You hung your head in shame, not daring to see Georges’ reaction. He sat there, in front of you, feeling his entire body buzz with joy at your words. Without saying anything, he tilted your chin up and kissed you. Hard. You, of course, kissed back, you swore you could feel every cell in your body on fire in that moment. After only mere seconds, George pulled back, searching your eyes for a reaction before you could speak. 

“George?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m in love with you. have been since we were kids.”

You stared into his eyes as you spoke, pupils blown, similar to his. You watched as Georges’ lips turned up into a goofy smile, “I’m in love with you” He whispered back, pulling you into a heated kiss. He trailed his hand down, letting it rest on your upper thigh, reveling in the way your breath picked up at his touch. You felt him smirk against your lips before he softly bit down, taking your bottom lip into his teeth, coaxing a whimper from you. He smiled as he released your lip from his teeth, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “You sound so pretty, darling.” Your breath quickened once again at his words, and you rubbed your thighs together, not-so-subtly this time. George gave a deep chuckle, moving his hand between your thighs, centimeters away from where you needed him most. “Georgie please-” You softly whined at him, trying to move your hips to meet his hand, only to have them pinned down by his other hand.  “Be patient, angel” He cooed into your ear, earning a loud whine from you at the petname he chose. He breathed out a laugh, “Don’t you make such pretty sounds when you’re this needy?” He cooed, feeling your hips absent-mindedly trying to roll into his hand. “Now, can you be good and stay quiet for me?” He asked, moving both his hands to cup your cheeks, making you look at him. You nodded, looking at him with pleading eyes. He cocked his head to the side a bit, “Aw, baby, we both know you aren’t stupid. You know I’m gonna need words, doll.” The way he cooed his wishes at you only made you more and more desperate, and you spoke without thinking. “yes sir” You whimpered, not even having time to regret your words before George let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, keep calling me that, right angel?” You grinned at the effect your simple words had on him, you whispered out another “yes sir” before he crashed his lips onto yours, his hands exploring your body as yours snaked around his neck, tugging lightly at his pretty hair, getting a quiet groan from the freckled boy in front of you. You grinned against his lips, him mirroring your actions. His hand slid down to the waistband of his boxers that you were wearing, he started fiddling with the elastic before you pulled away, breathing heavy. “Wait” You spoke, trying to catch your breath. He immediately pulled his hands off of you, placing one on your cheek instead. “What’s the matter, Bug?” He questioned, also trying to catch his breath. “I- uh- I don’t think we should have sex” You nervously blurted out, Georges’ eyes immediately softened and you nodded, “Okay.” He said, nodding at you. You could see in his face how genuine he was- how in love with you he was, you wondered why you never saw that before, perhaps you simply weren’t looking for it. “I’m gonna go grab us some water, alright? You stay here, cool off, I’ll be right back” He told you, giving you a kiss on the forehead once you nodded, padding across the floor into the kitchen. A billion thoughts raced through your head all at once, but you could only fully make out one; “That man is my soulmate” You allowed yourself to fall back onto the bed, smiling widely to yourself. “Here ya’ go, darling, drink.” George whispered, placing a water glass down on the bedside table next to you. You smiled at him, feeling nothing but euphoric love, and took small sips of your water. A few moments of comfortable silence went by as you leaned against George, the both of you cooling down and rehydrating. “I fell in love with you when we were 16″ George softly stated, looking at you with a goofy little smile on his face. You giggled before responding, “rookie numbers. try 14.” Causing you both to laugh, trying not to wake anyone else up. George put down his water glass, before taking yours from your hand and placing it next to his. He pulled you into a hug, of course you had hugged before, but this hug felt different, it felt like home. George sighed contently, pulling you under the covers for the night.

“goodnight, George”

“goodnight, angel, sweet dreams”

[tchallasbabymama]

All For Us Chapter 9

Hey y’all, thanks for being patient with me on this one, but it’s finally done! Not to be the bearer of bad news or anything, but there’s only one chapter left (and maybe an epilogue) on our journey with Mira, Erik, and Cupcake. If you’re just here for Killmonger, I have a couple Erik oneshots heading y’all’s way in the next few weeks. Also, check out The Temple. 😉

As always, don’t forget to look at my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything. Like, comment, and reblog away! 🥰

CW: a little smut

Word Count: 6,481

Erik’s eyes flew open as he bolted upright through the sand that covered his body in his temporary grave. He was in the heart of the temple where the Black Panther ceremony took place, the City of the Dead. The lost prince pulled himself from the sand and brushed the clay-colored sediment from around his eyes as he climbed the stone staircase leading up into the garden of the heart-shaped herb. When he made it to the top, Erik took a deep breath before stepping into the garden. To his surprise, nothing caught on fire like in his previous dreams. His shoulders relaxed as he took another step into the garden, and another, and another until he was face to face with Bast’s statue. A smile took over his face as he knelt at her feet.

“Took you long enough, Jaguar.”

Erik lifted his head, and her celestial glow nearly blinded him as he laid his eyes on the panther goddess once more.

“Long enough for what?”

“For your senses to come back, obviously.” Bast circled him and laid down, licking her paw. “Pretty soon, you won’t have to be asleep to talk to me.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Oh, I had nothing to do with it.”

Erik turned to face her and sat back on his heels.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I never took them away. You did.”

“I’m not following.”

“Your guilt blocked your senses, Erik,” she sighed. “You had been holding onto pieces of it, but you finally let it go.”

“I felt guilty for ruining our marriage,” Erik mused aloud.

“But you didn’t, so congratulations,” she said nonchalantly. “That’s not why you’re here, though.”

“Ok, what’s up?”

Bast chuckled at his informality.

“Last time we spoke, I said I would need you to do something for me. I’ve finally made up my mind as to what that is.”

Erik sat with bated breath as he waited for his assignment. For a moment, he was reminded of his military and mercenary days, except this time, he was being given a mission from a goddess. His goddess.

“As you know, Wakanda has never had a Golden Jaguar before. You are an anomaly, but that is a good thing.” She stood up and started walking, making him rush to his feet to follow after her.

“It is?”

“Yes. You know, the good thing about cycles is that with destruction comes rebirth…change. You’ve forced Wakanda to change, and you’ve forced me to think some things over. Truthfully, after the little stunt you almost pulled, I did think about removing your powers. I don’t need to preach about it, though, since you already know all about your wrongdoings, but I heard what you said about your people. We have neglected them, and for that, I have no words of apology that would adequately ease your pain. The Lost Tribe, as my people have come to call you, needs a champion. Wakanda already has theirs, but since you seem to rather enjoy toying with colonizers, I have an assignment for you.”

Erik’s ears were trained on Bast as he hung on every word she said. He walked next to her as they made their way through the catacombs towards the temple’s entrance.

“Before you came to Wakanda, you were involved with Klaue and his hunt for vibranium. Your vast knowledge of African and diasporic artifacts combined with your training makes a great equation for what I need you to do.”

“Which is?”

“I want you to act as the Golden Jaguar on the Lost Tribe’s behalf. I recognize that as just one person, you can only do so much, which is why I will talk to T’Challa about you heading his Wardog program. I would like for you to have an army of spies at your disposal to act instead of just watch and report as they have done in the past.”

“So basically what I wanted to do before but without the world domination?”

“Precisely,” Bast chuckled and stopped walking at the door to the temple.

“Ok,” Erik thought on it as a smile crept up his cheeks. “I’ll do it.”

“I knew you would. I think you’ll like my first assignment. Well, second. First, you need to stop avoiding the City of the Dead in your waking life. You need to go visit the garden.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Erik said, his nerves twisting in his gut at the thought of actually stepping back onto the sacred land.

“Now, my second assignment: artifact reclamation. Instead of searching for vibranium, which you might find, I want you to return items to their rightful owners.”

“So, stealing,” Erik deadpanned.

“Yes, but for a good cause. I will let you work out the details, but the point is to return the power to the people by building them back up, brick by brick. They were separated from their gods, so the Ancestors and the Orishas are working on bringing them back to us spiritually. They are still working on getting other spirits and pantheons on board...alas, my brother and sisters are choosing to take a more passive approach.” She sighed. “The Lost Tribe was taken from the land, so T’Challa has already spearheaded initiatives to build up other African countries that need his assistance and bring the Lost home to the continent. Now, I need you to bring our belongings home. Our thrones, our art, our history. Take it back. Bring it back to its rightful place.”

“I’m with it, but, um...how am I supposed to do this without getting caught? If shit just starts disappearing en masse, somebody’s gonna notice.”

“They won’t disappear. The colonizers won’t even know they’re gone.” Bast flicked her tail mischievously. “Your wife designs kimoyo beads, does she not?”

“Well, yeah-”

“And your cousins are scientific geniuses, correct?”

“Yes…”

“Then I’m sure that between all of your big beautiful brains, you can figure out a way to make replicas of the artifacts.”

“Why does that compliment feel like an insult?”

“I like you, Jaguar,” The goddess chuckled. “Now go enjoy your time with your wife.” She winked at Erik as she nudged him out into the brightness shining from outside the wide-open temple doors. Erik returned to consciousness, and he was shocked by the feeling of Mira’s mouth traveling up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, girl. This how you waking Big Daddy up now?”

She popped her head off his tip, and he groaned at the sight of a bridge of spit still connecting her to him.

“Good morning, baby.”

“Mmmm, good morning to you, too,” he grabbed her loose curls that she had forgotten to tie up the night before. The silk sheets kept her hair soft and bouncy as her hair spilled over his fist while it rested at the back of her head. He pulled her in for a kiss, and then she went right back to taking him down her throat. “You’re gonna make me nut all down that throat, Princess.”

Mira’s hand cupped and massaged his ballsack while she sucked on his bulbous head. Her tongue swirled around the tip, and her other hand traveled up and down his length, making his toes curl.

“Fuuuuck, you remember just what Big Daddy likes. Imma bust a fat ass nut, girl,” Erik groaned through gritted teeth. Mira giggled at her control over him and continued to work his dick. Her nose reached his pelvis as she took him down her throat, and he came with such force that she almost choked. Almost.

When she pulled off of him, she tongue-kissed his tip before sitting back on her haunches and wiping her mouth. “How’d you sleep?”

Erik let out a breathy laugh, “Like the dead.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t feel me moving. You were out cold.”

“That’s because I was talking to Bast.”

“What’d she say this time?”

Erik sat up against the headboard and motioned for her to come to him. Mira crawled up his body and straddled him, sliding down on his dick so that they were connected as deep as they could be. They had always been like this; whenever they needed to have a serious conversation, Erik would set her in his lap and have her take all of him. They both reveled in the connection they had in that moment, and even in their stillness, their united bodies responded to each other as the words fell from his lips.

“She wants me to be the Golden Jaguar officially,” he said as he kissed down from Mira’s ear to her shoulder.

“What does that mean?” Mira asked, barely above a whisper.

“She wants me to be a champion for us, the Lost Tribe. Wakandans have T, so I’ll be protecting the rest of us with the Wardogs.”

“How, though? That’s so many people.”

He came up from kissing between her breasts to look her in the eyes. “Well, remember how I told you about the museum heist to get the vibranium?”

Mira nodded.

“She wants me to steal artifacts from museums and shit and return them to where they were stolen from.”

“That sounds right up your alley,” Mira snarked, and he tickled her sides, making her pussy clench around him, and he let out a groan at the feeling. He grabbed her hips and moved them back and forth.

“It is. I can’t do anything until I visit the garden of the heart-shaped herb, though.”

“Why?” she moaned.

“I’ve been avoiding it,” he sighed.

Mira pulled him into a kiss and cycloned her hips as she wound on him. “Do you need to go alone, or do you want me to come with you?”

He connected their foreheads as he pushed his hips forward into her, and she called out his name.

“I need to go alone.”

Their hips ground into each other as the sexual energy inside them built up slowly and erupted through their bodies. Erik placed kisses all over Mira’s face and neck as she caught her breath from the intensity of her orgasm.

“How about I make breakfast?” Erik asked, and Mira simply nodded and kissed him. She moved to get up, but he held her down. “Nah, I didn’t say right now.”

After another round, the two of them separated from each other, if only because of the rumbling of their bellies. They showered together, and Erik couldn’t help himself from bending her over and eating her pussy and ass from the back. Pretty soon, he was balls deep inside her again, and when he came all over her cheeks, he about keeled over from the way the orgasm shook through his body.

“Aight, I need a break,” Erik said, and the two of them shared a laugh as they finished their shower without any more funny business.

“Can I have one of your t-shirts?” Mira asked as they slathered themselves in shea butter.

“You can have anything you want, Princess. MIT or Navy?”

“MIT please,” she cheesed at him.

“Coming right up.”

Erik left the room and returned with his maroon-colored MIT t-shirt. The same one she wore the first time she stayed over at his apartment back in the day. He knew it was her favorite and the look on her face when he handed it to her was priceless. She quickly shimmied into it while he slid on a pair of sweatpants that left little to the imagination.

The two of them relocated to the kitchen, and Mira toyed around with her latest kimoyo design on her tablet while Erik got to work on breakfast.

“That a new one?” he asked, nodding towards the design hovering over the counter.

“Yeah, I haven’t gotten it to work right, though,” she grumbled as she stared at it. “I want it to be able to apply cloaking tech to whatever it touches, but so far, I can only get the bead to disappear.”

Erik listened to her complain about her failed design for a little while, and when she was done, she turned off the tablet and hopped up on the counter.

“Anything I can do?” Mira asked

“Mhm,” he came over and stood between her legs, placing a sloppy kiss on her lips. “Just sit there looking fine as hell.”

“I’m serious,” she smiled.

“So am I,” he said incredulously with a hand over his heart, making her chuckle at his dramatics.

“Fine, I’ll be your muse.”

“And my guinea pig. Here, try this.”

Erik lifted the spoon to her lips so she could taste the yam hash he had been working on, and her eyes bugged out of her head.

“I forgot you turn into Top Chef after sex.”

“Gotta feed my woman,” he kissed her cheek and cracked a couple of eggs sunny-side up in the skillet.

Mira giggled, and an idea struck her. She reached back for her tablet again and pulled up her latest work in progress, a story about a decades-long whirlwind romance that she had gotten stuck on. All she needed was a little inspiration, and Erik ended up being just what she needed.

He watched his wife type away with a smile on his face. Erik loved watching her work; the look of determination on her face was always so endearing to him. She’d bite her lip and squint her eyes as she tried her best to focus on the task at hand. Erik always thought it was adorable.

The smell of fresh vegetables coming in contact with hot oil filled the air, and Mira’s mouth started to water. She looked up from her work to see what Erik was doing but got distracted by his body. She watched his sinewy muscles moving beneath his textured skin, and a chill went down her spine.

“What the fuck is that?” Erik sniffed the air, following the sweet scent that had just wafted from out of nowhere.

“What’s what?” Mira asked, swinging her legs back and forth.

He turned to face her, and his pupils blew wide as the smell hit him again.

“It’s you,” he turned off the burner and stalked over to her, standing between her legs again and placing his nose in the crook of her neck. He inhaled her scent and let out a growl.

“What is that?”

“My bodywash?”

“Nah, it’s you. What-” he cut himself off when it dawned on him. When he was king for a day, he only smelled fear from those around him. Fear smelled like decay, it smelled rotten, but this was the exact opposite. It was enticing, like the most beautiful forbidden garden, and Erik knew exactly what it was. Her arousal. He bit into her neck, making her moan out as he ground his hips into hers. The aroma grew, and Erik’s composure slipped away the more he inhaled it.

“E-erik, the food.”

He took a deep breath as he stood to his full height. “I can smell when you want me.”

“What?!”

“I wonder if it’s different for every person...shit, I wonder if I can smell other people. I hope not-”

“What are you saying? You can tell when I’m horny?”

“I guess so. I only smelled fear before, but it makes sense. I’m just caught off guard because it hit me out of nowhere, like last night.”

“What happened last night?”

“I could hear your heartbeat.”

Mira’s face lit up, “That’s good, though, right? It means your senses are coming back!”

“Yeah, I’m just surprised by that one. I wasn’t expecting all that,” he laughed.

“So...I smell good?”

“You don’t know how good, Princess,” he grumbled as he finished cooking. Mira crossed her legs, making him chuckle. “That’s not helping. It’s all over you.”

“Damn...what else can you do?”

“I need to test out my strength and speed, but my sight was different, too. Everything was brighter, more vibrant. And my brain moved faster...I don’t know how to explain it. Bast said my guilt was the blockage, so they’ll probably slowly come back over time. After they’re back, I’m supposed to start on my mission.”

“You still felt guilty?”

“I thought I broke us. I mean, I did, but I felt like it was unfixable, you know?”

Mira nodded, “Yeah, it felt like that sometimes.”

Erik pulled the dishes out of the cabinet and set them down next to her.

“Mira, I’m-”

“Erik, if you say you’re sorry one more time, so help me, Bast,” Mira said, making a dimpled smile appear on Erik’s face.

“Yes, ma’am.”

They fell into a comfortable silence while Erik plated the food, and when he handed Mira hers, he left a kiss on her cheek. She smiled and hopped down from the counter to sit at the table. When she sat down, she couldn’t help but stare at Erik as he walked over. Her man, her formerly violent man was really chosen by a goddess to protect Black people around the globe.

He noticed the look on her face and couldn’t quite place it. “What?”

“Nothing, just...look at you, doing the work of gods now.”

“I bet you never thought you’d say that about your mercenary husband,” Erik winked at her.

“Sure didn’t,” Mira laughed, “but it fits. You always had it in you. You know, I’m glad I came out here. I wouldn’t get to see this new side of you otherwise, and so far, I like it.”

--------

A couple of hours later, Erik found himself in front of the City of the Dead with his palms sweating and his breath shaking. He wasn’t sure why the temple unnerved him so much, but it did. Erik knew he had to do what Bast told him, though, and took a step forward. He climbed the stairs to the ornate stone doors and waited as they slowly opened for him. Erik was met with the sight of a surprisingly calm woman in purple robes. He recognized her as the woman he had choked out, the new head priestess.

“My prince,” she saluted him. “Welcome. I have been expecting you.”

“You have?”

“Of course. Come in.”

He hesitantly stepped forward again and entered the temple. A chill went down his spine as the doors shut behind them, and he looked around the space. He had only been there once before in his waking life, but this time it felt different. It probably had something to do with the fact that she wasn’t scared of him this time around.

“What’s your name?” he asked nervously.

“I am Zaya, my prince.”

“You don’t have to do the whole ‘my prince’ thing. Especially since I...you know.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I’m sorry about that. I should’ve never put my hands on you.”

“I have spoken to Bast about it, and I forgive you. Just don’t let it happen again,” she warned.

Erik put his hands up in defense, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Now, you are here to see the herb, no?” She started walking, and he followed behind her.

“How’d you know?”

“I spoke to Bast, remember?” She quipped with an eyebrow raised.

“Heh, yeah,” he chuckled nervously and cleared his throat. “I don’t know why I’m so anxious.”

“I assume that is a normal reaction when reckoning with your past.”

The two of them traveled deeper into the temple, and when they reached the door that led to the garden of the heart-shaped herb, he froze. Zaya looked back when she no longer heard his footsteps and smiled warmly, reaching out her hand to him. He took it, and she led him through the doors. Erik almost wanted to close his eyes, but he knew he had to face his past actions head-on.

He looked around, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw there were dozens of tiny glowing purple buds just begging to become full-grown flowers. He laughed in disbelief at what he was seeing. He had burnt the garden to ashes, but now here it was, thriving in spite of him.

“It took us a while to get them to grow again, but thankfully we were able to put out the fire before the roots were harmed,” Zaya spoke as he wandered through the garden in awe.

“And these...they still work?”

“The princess took a sample and tested it in her lab. According to her, this new batch might be a little different, but they should still work. Bast has given them her blessing, so that is enough for me.”

“So, I didn’t ruin Wakanda’s future like I thought...”

“No, just a bump in the road,” she smiled.

Just as he was about to respond, the strangest thing happened. His eyes were trained on one of the buds, and suddenly he could see every little vein in the leaves and the detail of the curled-up petals. The color became brighter and even more purple than most people could comprehend, and a tear rolled down his cheek as he smiled.

He could see again.

“Are you ok?” Zaya asked tentatively.

Erik cleared his throat, “Yeah, I’m good. It’s just my senses are coming back, and...they’re beautiful.”

“And resilient.”

He laughed and wiped the tear from his face.

“How about I give you some time alone?”

“Thanks, Zaya, that’d be great.”

She bowed her head in deference and went back the way they came. When she was gone, Erik let out a sigh as he took in the sight before him.

“They really made it…”

“Of course, they did. Did you think I would leave my people defenseless?” Bast’s silky voice rang out through the temple, and he turned around to see her standing there in her mostly-human form. She was a statuesque and curvaceous woman with the head of a panther and locs that spilled over her ebony shoulders. Erik dropped to his knees as she walked towards him. “No need for all of that. Stand up, Jaguar.”

He laid eyes on her once more as he rose from the ground. Her glow was almost blinding, but his eyes adjusted quickly.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you in person.”

“Get used to it. I like to pop in on my champions every now and again. Sometimes in dreams, sometimes in your thoughts, and sometimes in person. It all depends.”

“On what?”

“On you and what you need, or what I need from you.”

“Ok, so what do you need from me?”

Bast chuckled. “Truthfully, nothing this time. I just needed to see you face-to-face.”

“You don’t have an assignment for me?”

“Not yet. I know how much you enjoy the sanctuary, so I’ll let you stay there a little whille longer. Plus, you are just now mending your marriage and need time to spend with your wife and child before I call you away.”

“How much time?”

“Enough,” she winked.

“You’re so cryptic,” Erik chuckled.

“Yes, your cousin thinks so, too. However, I prefer ‘mysterious.’”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smirked.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you long,” she sighed. “You have some party planning to do. They grow up fast, don’t they?”

“Especially when you miss a couple of years,” he murmured.

“Which is why I’m giving you at least a year before I call on you. Make good use of it, Erik.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

“Good. Oh, and one more thing, Erik.”

“Yeah?”

“Try running back to the palace,” she winked again as she shimmered away, leaving him alone in the temple.

Erik tried to contain himself as he left the garden and ran into Zaya.

“Was your ‘alone’ time fruitful?” she asked knowingly.

All he could do was beam at her with his megawatt dimpled smile.

“Very.”

Erik said goodbye and ran back through the forest to the city, his heart beating out of his chest in excitement. His superhuman speed carried him back in no time as the wind whipped against his body. A smile was plastered on his face the whole time, even when he slowed down as he reached the outskirts of Birnin Zana. He hurried to the palace as inconspicuously as he could and happened to run into Mira just as she was leaving. When she saw the look on his face, she couldn’t help the grin that took over hers.

“So, how did- Erik!” She squealed as he picked her up and twirled her around with barely any effort.

“They’re back!”

“Your powers?”

“Well, yeah, but the heart shaped herb is coming back!” he peppered kisses all over her face and neck while she giggled. “You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined you could be.”

“So I take it your vision came back, and you’re super strong again?”

“And fast. I ran here in like twenty minutes.”

“From the CIty of the Dead?!”

“Mhm,” he nodded as he set her back on the ground.

“Damn, baby, that’s...that’s amazing.”

“I need to test them out some more, so I’m gonna see if T has some time to spar. You going to the lab?”

“Shopping, actually. Okoye and Ayo took Imani so I could get some last-minute party stuff.”

“Need someone to carry your bags?”

“Oh, hell yeah. Especially since you got that jaguar strength again.”

“Lead the way, beautiful.”

--------

Early that Saturday morning, as the sun crested over the trees, Mira and Erik stood on the tarmac watching as the Royal Talon descended from the sky. Mira was almost shaking with excitement as the doors opened and T’Challa stepped out, followed by some of her favorite people in the whole world.

“Titi!”

SJ ran down the ramp past the king and flung himself into his auntie’s arms. She held him tight and rocked him from side to side as Stef and Ana approached, with Daveed teetering between the two of them.

She looked up at them and gasped, “Oh my god, he can walk now? How long have I been gone?”

“Girl, too long,” Havana complained as she wrapped her arms around her sister-in-law.

Stefan was next to greet her, and his eyes stayed glued to Erik the whole time as he enveloped his sister in a bear hug, “We missed you, Sammy.”

“No, you miss my cooking,” she laughed as she crouched down to say hi to her littlest nephew.

“You remember Titi Mira?” Ana asked him, and he shook his head, hiding behind his dad’s leg.

“That’s ok, we can get to know each other while you’re here,” Mira smiled at him and stood back up.

“Who are you?” SJ asked when he finally noticed the man standing behind his aunt.

“SJ, this is your Uncle Erik. You might not remember him but-“

He thought about it for a moment before it dawned on him. “Do you still have all those bumps on you?”

Stefan tried to hold in his snickering, and Havana hit him in his chest.

“Uh, yeah, I do.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Heh, thanks, lil man.”

“So, brother in law…It’s good to see you,” Stef deadpanned. He was clearly not feeling Erik anymore.

“You, too, man,” Erik went to dap him up, and he stared at his hand in contempt.

“Stefan, behave,” Havana said with a roll of her eyes. “Hi Erik, how are you?”

“Much better since I’ve been here.”

“Good, good…”

T’Challa had been standing to the side while the family reunited but decided to intervene when things got awkward.

“Stefan, Havana, let us show you to your quarters.”

“Oooh, our ‘quarters,’” Ana sang excitedly. “Sounds so fancy.”

“It’s a palace, Ana. Of course it’s fancy,” Stef grumbled.

She cut her eyes at him. “Don’t act out in front of company.”

Mira chuckled. She hadn’t realized how much she missed hearing their playful bickering.

As they made their way through the place, Stef and Ana stared slack-jawed at their surroundings while SJ ran ahead of the group.

“You live here?” Ana asked.

“Mhm. It’s gorgeous, right?!” Mira bragged.

“That’s not even the word…”

T’Challa smirked as he listened to them compliment his home.

“So, where’s the birthday girl?” Stefan asked.

“She is with my mother and Ororo.”

“Ororo?” Stef stopped in his tracks. “Munroe?!”

“The one and only,” T’Challa grinned proudly.

“Holy shit…”

“Language,” Havana chided her husband as she covered SJ’s ears.

“What is it with these men and cursing around children?” Mira shook her head at her brother.

“Girl, I don’t know, but let’s get back to Storm. How’d y’all meet?”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Erik nodded towards his cousin.

“Dang, how’d you get her? I mean, I know you’re a king and all, but- Wait, are you a mutant, too?” Stef asked.

T’Challa and Mira made eye contact, and she nodded for him to continue. They were family and would most likely be seeing a lot of Wakanda, so they’d find out eventually.

“I am enhanced, yes.”

“Like Steve Rogers?” SJ chimed in excitedly from a few feet ahead.

“He wishes,” T’Challa complained under his breath as they stopped in front of the door across from Erik and Mira. Both of them chuckled at the king’s arrogance.

“So...you’re enhanced. Why, though?” Stef asked.

They entered the suite, and the interrogation was cut short when the Greenwoods saw how beautiful their temporary home was.

“Holy shit…” Ana mused as she covered SJ’s ears.

Mira gave them a quick tour while T’Challa and Erik hung back in the living area.

“So, you and Stefan-”

“He never liked me, and I made things worse by disappearing,” he shrugged.

T’Challa nodded as he changed into his suit.

“Oh, so you’re coming all the way out?”

“They will find out eventually, so I might as well get it over with.”

Erik nodded as Mira rounded the corner and saw T’Challa in his suit. She smirked and called SJ. He ran back into the room and froze when he saw Black Panther standing there next to his uncle. Ana was next to round the corner and looked at her son questioningly before she looked up and saw what he was staring at with his mouth open.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said with a hand on her hip.

“About what?” Stef came next, and T’Challa’s mask disappeared into his necklace. “This place is insane.”

SJ couldn’t move. He was looking at his favorite hero in the entire world, right there in the place he’d call home for the next week. His mind could barely wrap around what he was seeing, and he couldn’t process his emotions. Tears started flowing down his face, and a sob wracked his body.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok, baby,” Ana crouched down and wiped his tears as Stef came over with Daveed on his hip.

“You’re not excited to see Black Panther?” He asked his eldest son.

SJ shook his head, and T’Challa deflated. Erik kept his snickering to himself, but Mira shot him a look anyway.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him.”

“He’s just in shock. It’ll wear off eventually,” Ana said as she brushed SJ’s locs out of his face.

————

It took way longer to wear off than they thought, and by the time they arrived at the party venue in the palace’s botanical gardens that afternoon, he still hadn’t said a word. T’Challa tried to speak to him a couple of times, but he shied away behind Mira or his parents. Eventually, Erik convinced him to give the kid some space and pulled the dejected king away to the other side of the garden. While the other kids and their parents arrived, SJ kept looking at T’Challa out of the corner of his eye.

“You know, he doesn’t bite...or scratch,” Mira leaned in and said to her nephew as she sat down next to him at the kid’s table. “In fact, he’s pretty cool once you get to know him.”

“Does Imani know?” he spoke up for the first time in hours, and Mira was happy to hear his voice again.

“Oh, yeah. He told us when we got here, but it’s a secret so she pinky promised not to tell. You know, I screamed when I saw him.”

“You did?!”

“Mhm. He really needs to learn how to ease people into it, huh?” she asked as she poked at his side, making him giggle. Stef and Ana watched from a few yards away and smiled with him while they kept a watchful eye on Daveed as he waddled around the flowers.

SJ nodded in response, and Mira kissed his temple before getting up and leaving him to ponder her words. Right when he had worked up the courage to speak to his hero, Erik announced that Imani was on her way with Ororo and Ramonda.

“I can’t wait to see my baby girl!” Ana squealed.

Mira excitedly grabbed Erik’s hand, and he kissed her knuckles, making Stef narrow his eyes as he and his family hid behind a mango tree.

Imani appeared with her auntie and future cousin, and T’Challa recorded as she squealed excitedly at seeing everybody. A’Kidi, Kofi, Sanaa, A’Sami, Ade, and all her other friends from school greeted her with a loud “Happy birthday!” The newly five-year-old’s tunnel vision made her almost ignore her parents and other adults completely until Erik picked her up and gave her a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“Happy birthday, Cupcake!”

“We have a surprise for you,” Mira sang.

“What is it?” Imani asked excitedly.

Erik set her down and turned her around as Mira motioned for her family to reveal themselves. SJ ran out from behind the tree and nearly tackled his cousin to the ground while her aunt, uncle, and baby cousin took a calmer approach.

“There’s the birthday girl!” Stef exclaimed while his eldest son continued to squeeze her tight. SJ let her go, and she ran into her uncle’s arms. Ana crouched down next to him, and Imani threw her arms around her neck.

“We’ve missed you so much!” Ana said as she fought tears.

“I missed you too. Wakanda is so cool! I can’t wait to show you everything,” Imani babbled.

“Did you know about Black Panther?” SJ asked, still a little nervous about meeting his hero.

Imani nodded, “I promised to keep it a secret, or I would’ve told you. It’s so cool, right?”

SJ nodded, and Imani dragged him off to meet her friends.

Erik couldn’t keep the smile off his face if he tried as he watched his little social butterfly play with her friends and cousin. It wasn’t until Mira came up and nudged him that he even realized he was staring.

“You ok?” she asked.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine,” he said as he put his arm around her and kissed her temple. “Just reliving some things.”

Mira looked at him curiously and he continued, “One of the few good memories I have from childhood that we talked about in therapy was my seventh birthday party. This kind of reminds me of that.”

Mira smiled as they stood there and watched Shuri, Ororo, and T’Challa play with the kids. The king regaled them with stories of his adventures, and Shuri let them ride on very slow hoverbikes while Ororo harnessed the wind to lift them up and let them fly a couple of feet off of the ground. The kids were having a ball, and their parents seemed to enjoy themselves as well. Okoye, M’Baku, and a couple other people gravitated towards each other and fell into conversation about being single parents. However, the rest of them spent most of their time ogling the royal family.

Eventually, it was time to eat and the parents were able to corral the kids into sitting down at the table. After stuffing their faces with an array of Imani’s favorite foods, Mira led the “happy birthday” song as she and Ayo carried out a huge Doc McStuffins birthday cake. Imani and SJ were the only kids who knew who she was, but everyone enjoyed the cake nonetheless. Erik couldn’t help the tear that almost came to his eye as he listened to his wife sing to their daughter, just like his mother had done to him. Loudly and slightly off key. Next, Shuri led the group in a Wakandan birthday song, and Imani blew out the huge number five candle in the center of the cake.

Mira kept stealing glances at Erik as he sliced it up and handed out pieces to everyone. He looked so happy. Even when one of the kids tripped and got icing all over his pants leg, he just kept on smiling.

Even Stef noticed the change in his brother-in-law’s demeanor and brought it up to Ana, “He smiles too much now. It’s weird.”

“It’s weird that he’s happy?”

“No, it’s just weird to see. He used to be so…”

“Surly and unapproachable.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Maybe you should get to know him?”

“Hmph,” he grunted in response. Ana decided to leave it alone for the time being and left his side to go talk to Erik.

“You think you can handle the sleepover?” she asked him.

“Thank Bast it’s not all of them.”

“It’s not?”

“Hell no, just her little crew,” he pointed to A’Kidi, Kofi, Sanaa, A’Sami, and Ade. “I’m not taking care of all these kids.”

Ana laughed, “Understood.”

“So...your husband still doesn’t like me, huh?”

“Can you blame him?” Ana deadpanned.

“Nah, I’d be the same way in his shoes.”

“He’ll come around eventually...maybe,” she said as she placed a comforting hand on his arm before being pulled away by her son to watch the Black Panther and Storm show off their powers some more. SJ still couldn’t bring himself to speak to T’Challa, but it was a start.

As the party wound down and most of Imani’s classmates went home, the few that stuck around relocated inside to the Stevens’ suite in the palace. Even with a handful of screaming children in his home, Erik was on cloud nine. He loved to see a smile on his Cupcake’s face, and he wondered if he looked that happy when he was a kid. He concluded he probably did, and as the kids watched an animated movie, he and Mira curled up on the couch behind them. While the rugrats were distracted, he pulled her chin up to plant a kiss on her lips.

“What was that for?” she smiled.

“I’ve just been thinking…”

“About what?”

“About making more good memories, you know? Some of the happiest times in my life were times just like this…and time spent with you.”

Mira looked down with a smile on her face and he brought it back up to look in her eyes.

“Marry me again.”

Her eyebrows damn near reached her hairline and a Grinch-like smile crept up her face as she nodded.

“I’d love to.” Next Chapter

Taglist: @ladymac82, @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy, @raysunshine78, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback

[cyrusbugged]

Golden Nails

In which Nya and Sensei Garmadon bond over something unexpected.

A/N: hey y’all! very excited to post this one, i thought it was really cute. like my previous one-shot, takes place between seasons 2 and 3. hope y’all enjoy!reblogs > likes

requests are open!

In was a peaceful day in Ninjago. One of the first peaceful days in a very long time. The Overlord was gone, and the world was slowly rebuilding itself.

In the very far outskirts of the city, Sensei Wu, Misako, and Nya were helping Garmadon with starting up his lessons at the new monastery him and Misako built. Wu and Nya were there to add some extra support.

After a very long day of working, Nya was sitting outside on one of the benches, painting her nails crimson. It had been a long time since she was able to actually do so, and since the work was done for the day, she decided to have at it. She had forgotten about the mini nail set that came with crimson and gold bottles of nail polish (along with a few tools for nail care) that she had stowed away in the bag she brought.

“Hello, Nya,” a voice said.

Nya looked up. “Oh, hey Sensei G.”

It was kind of... odd seeing the new Garmadon. Rather than looking like an evil warlord who would stop at nothing to crush everything in his path, he looked like a sweet old man. Very similar to his brother, really. (Minus the beard and the baldness.)

Garmadon smiled, then looked down at her nails. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m painting my nails. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually been able to sit down and do so. Since the boys are off doing... whatever they’re doing, and since we’re done with work for the day, I decided why not,” she explained while finishing her left hand.

“Hmm, interesting,” Garmadon responded, looking to his own nails, then to Nya’s.

His weren’t in the best shape, since they were quite cracked and uneven.

“Want me to do yours? I have a gold color in my bag, and I think they’d match your robes,” Nya offered.

“Oh,” Garmadon said. “Well, I don’t think Misako and Wu need my assistance as of right now...”

“Great!” Nya said. “Once this hand dries, I’ll get started on yours.”

After a few minutes of shaking her hand and blowing on her nails, Nya dug into her bag and picked up a bottle of gold nail polish. “Sit down in front of me and give me your hand.”

Garmadon put his staff down, then did what she said, sitting crossed-legged and holding his hand out for her.

Nya looked at his nails, then pursed her lips. “On second thought, I’ll probably have to file them first.”

“That’s fine,” Garmadon said.

Nya dug into her bag again, pulling out a nail file. She filed his nails so they were even on both hands, then picked up the nail polish again, and began on his right hand.

“The kit was a gift for my birthday from awhile ago,” Nya explained. “I honestly forgot about it, I guess I must’ve just shoved it into my bag when I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Did you use to paint your nails often?” Garmadon asked.

“My mom and I did when I was younger,” Nya responded. “But after she passed I didn’t do it as much. It just turned into something I’d do if I was really bored with nothing to do.”

She finished his right hand, began on his left.

Garmadon nodded. “I see. I always thought it was interesting. Misako used to paint her nails when we first started dating.”

“I tried to get Kai to let me paint his once,” Nya said, finishing up his left hand. “I told him the red would go great with his gi, but of course, he said no.”

Garmadon chuckled. “That sounds like Kai.”

He pulled his hand away when she was done, examining his nails. The gold reflected nicely in the sun, and did match his robes quite well.

“Thank you, Nya. You did a great job,” Garmadon commented.

“No problem, Sensei. I try my best,” Nya replied with a smile.

And every so often, whenever Garmadon and Nya had nothing better to do, Garmadon’s nails would be painted the same golden color and they would chat for a little. About their past, about memories, about anything that would come up in conversation.

——-

“Ah, my son. So glad you could join us,” Garmadon said, walking with his staff for his next lesson. His pupils sat around the room, and among those was his son, Jay, Kai, and Cole.

“Hey, it’s been awhile, father,” Lloyd responded, then squinted. “Uh, dad? Are your... nails painted?”

“Yes,” Garmadon said, admiring the golden color. “Nya did them for me a few days ago. I think they match well with my robes, don’t you think?”

“Uh, I mean, yeah,” Lloyd responded. “Sure.”

“Lookin’ sharp, Sensei!” Jay said.

Garmadon laughed. “Thank you, Jay. Now” - he pointed his staff at Jay, whose eyes widened. “-close your mouths, and open your ears. Tonight’s lesson is the Art of the Silent Fist.”

[zodiyack]

Opposites Attract; Act II

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Female!Pierce/Petrova!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst

Words: 1,036

(Series) Summary: The younger sister of Katherine was the true owner of Damon’s heart, Katherine only being his worry in 1864 due to the sister’s bond, the bond that fueled Katherine to force Y/n to join her when she escaped Mystic Falls and left Damon to think they were both in the tomb.

Note: So, requests are open. Just wanted to let y’all know lmao- AND- since I’ve written a smut fic...any feedback? I’ve been thinking; if you guys liked it, I’m down to write more (requests are open for smut too) and I might get a smut prompt list- the only reason why I ask is ‘cause I don’t see the point in reblogging one if I don’t write smut.

and in no way related to tvd; i write for the Crue and The Dirt now so ye

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @lady-salvatore, @sana-li, @lawlerek, @caseysalvatore, @thecraziestcrayon, @jenepleurepasbaby​

Masterlist | The Vampire Diaries Masterlist

Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Part V. Part VI.

Present Day

“She’s out there somewhere,” Damon paced, “I know it.”

“Listen, Damon, we agreed to help you so you’ll leave. So...will you leave if we help-”

“No.” He glared at his brother, the hurt from his previous lie returning. “You’re not helping me now. Not tomorrow. Not ever. You lied.”

Stefan attempted to chase after his brother, but Elena stopped him. She explained softly and calmly how Damon would trust her as she had yet to do anything to severely damage his trust.

“Damon. We’ll help you find her.”

“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...” He drawled, letting his sentence trail off to prove his point. Damon didn’t plan on being fooled again. Nor did he plan on having his brother and his brother’s girlfriend slay the love of his life.

“We won’t.” Elena thought for a moment, brushing her fingers through her long brown hair. “I- I won’t.”

He paused and squinted at the doppelganger. “And why should I trust you?”

“Because. I haven’t harmed you or given you a reason to not trust me.”

“I- uh... Suppose you’re right.”

1864

Y/n and Katherine were usually found together. Where one sister went, the other followed. However, Y/n shared one of her many secrets with Damon after he’d learned of her immortality.

“I like lurking around places with lots of cheering and life...it makes me feel alive. And, as you can tell, that’s not very often.” She laughed awkwardly as they walked side by side.

“No, no, it makes perfect sense.” He joined in, both in attempt to make her feel comforted and just genuinely appreciating her view on life. “Have you been to many of such places?”

“Not often...Katherine never lets me go far.-”

“Excuse my language milady, but fuck Katherine. She has no control over you. She is your sister. She is most certainly not your keeper, nor your mother.” It hurt him to know how controlling his lover’s sister was, to know how little of the world she got to enjoy despite visiting quite a lot of it.

“I-” Katherine’s voice interrupted Y/n, her name being called out every few seconds. She thought about ignoring her, but Katherine’s commanding tone denied all thoughts of rebelling. “I’ve got to go... Meet me in the town tonight, Damon.” She pressed a quick peck against his soft lips before she ran off to see to her sister.

It was a usual occurrence.

The sisters were always together. One or the other, one with the other, never separate for too long. But what if Damon wanted them to be separate? How would he follow through with a task like that? It was seldom he got to see her alone, but Damon was not the kind of person who’d let that continue;

A flaw Damon had that was both good and bad.

Present Day

“She’ll be with Katherine. Or, if she’s managed to escape that bitch, she’ll be somewhere lively.”

“What?”

Damon shrugged off the confused eyes that burned into the back of his head. “Katherine was...controlling. Wouldn’t let Y/n go anywhere without her supervision. However, if she’s managed to escape, Y/n enjoys places that makes her feel alive... Human.”

Stefan paused as the realization struck him hard. Elena’s head whipped around to face him when she heard his feet halt. “You’re right...I thought I saw her...and then I told myself I was just seeing things but... But what if-”

“What if what, Stefan? You saw her and you didn’t think to tell me?!” Damon’s face grew redder by the second, and Elena knew she had to do something before chaos tore everything apart.

“Wait! He said that he didn’t know it was her. You can’t blame him for not wanting to get your hopes up when he had no proof to support, Damon.” She stood her ground between the two vampires, brows her furrowed and eyes filled with determination.

Elena took a moment to observe both brothers; Damon’s blue orbs had darkened and his fists clenched in furry, Stefan clenched his jaw but composed himself as usual.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should’ve-”

“You’re right! You should’ve! But you were going to trap and kill Y/n in the tomb, so even if you knew it was her, you would’ve have told me. You could’ve and should’ve- but you didn’t.” Despite the two still frozen in place behind him, Damon turned and paced forward.

The other Salvatore brother tried to follow behind, but his girlfriend refused to move. “Elena-”

“No. You should apologize.”

“His girlfriend was the sister of a murderer. Of someone who turned me, used compulsion on me, and didn’t care about us for a second in her pretend life. She was just using us.”

“Even so, who’s to say that Y/n’s like her sister?” The doppelganger scoffed, “I mean, look at you and Damon!”

Stefan opened his mouth, but Elena’s point was a good one. The more he thought about it, Y/n never forced the two to do anything. If anything, she was being used just as they were. A prisoner in her sister’s care but herself in theirs.

He didn’t answer Elena before he started after Damon. He really did owe Damon one hell of an apology, but he needed to be alone while he thought over what he would say and went through with it. Elena could be thanked after they’d made up.

Meanwhile, Damon was going through events in his head. Anna said she’d last seen Katherine and Y/n in Chicago. She said that they knew where he was the whole time...and that they didn’t care. Damon didn’t believe her though. He was in love with Y/n, and she him. Why would she leave him behind?

He screamed in agony at the night sky; at whatever god was out there, at fate, at life, and at the one thing he knew was the cause of Y/n’s disinterest. In fact- she wasn’t “uninterested” at all!

And Damon knew that. He knew for a fact that they were undeniably in love with one another. He knew she would go to him if she could. He knew exactly why she never returned to his arms. Damon knew the reason;

and her name was Katherine.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Epilogue

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: Loki reflects on his new life with you. Chapter Warnings: straight fluff peeps A/N: Here it is, the very end of the story! The last chapter posted a few moments ago, so make sure to check that out before this. To everyone who’s taken the time to read, comment, like, reblog, theorize, or talk to me about this story at all, I’m honestly honored. It’s been a wild ride and, seriously, y’all are the best! Well, I hope you enjoy! Happy reading friends :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @marvelousdaydreams​ @andromedasstarship​​ @lokistan​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​ @sourpatchspinster @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter 

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“Loki? When is mommy coming home?” Matt asked the god whose lap he was currently sitting on.

“Any second now, little one. Do not fret,” he replied with a smile.

Months after the Battle of Oklahoma City, Loki was happily living with you and your family once again. It took a considerable amount of convincing to get Director Fury to agree, but eventually he did. Even worse was having to talk Odin into the arrangement. Did it hurt to be exiled from his childhood home? Of course, but Frigga came down to Midgard to visit when she could. And being banished to go live with his beloved wasn’t so bad, either. Still, Odin had thought that it was a fitting punishment for him to have to spend his days among the mortals he once intended to conquer.

Thor was his brother’s biggest advocate, somewhat surprisingly, and Loki would be forever grateful. While Loki hadn’t actually been there for the negotiations, supposedly Thor fought every charge brought against him with impressive intelligence and eloquence. Loki was pretty sure he was exaggerating as he was so wont to do, but who knows? The world is full of surprises, after all.

Speaking of surprises, your family just had a huge one. Ana had given birth to twins! She and John had been prepared for that, but they hadn’t told the rest of you. Loki would forever remember the way your face lit up when you heard the news. Your smile was, well, there was no other way to describe it than angelic. And the look you’d given him when he held one of the newborns completely melted his heart. Now you were all waiting for John to drive his wife and two new kids home from the hospital. As far as Loki was concerned, life was perfect. Well, almost.

Thanos was still out there, which did cause some concern for the trickster god. But Thor was looking for him right at the very moment, so Loki would have to put his trust in his brother. Once he found that evil Titan, though, Loki would be first in line to join the troops in the battle against him. Even help lead them, perhaps. Thanos’s very existence was a threat to you and your family, which Loki held so dear. He’d stop at nothing to thwart the villain.

Ah yes, villainy. A concept Loki had struggled with for so long. Was he one or just the victim of bad circumstances? According to you, who Loki was inclined to believe, he was a hero. Once he’d told you the whole truth, you were quick to reassure him it was not his fault. Did he plot against his brother and father to take the throne of Asgard? Well, yes, that he was guilty of, but even then his motives were understandable. It did help ease his guilt, but that feeling would gnaw at his heart every now and again. Whenever it did, though, you made sure to pepper his face with kisses, hug him close, and tell him he’d saved Midgard. That he saved you. That he was a hero.  

“Hey, handsome,” you greeted sitting down next to him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, my darling. Just thinking, is all.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, I am just thinking about life. It is a beautiful thing, I realize now,” he said, taking your hand to place a kiss to it. “And thanking the Norns that I am luckiest man alive.”

You’d made it very clear to Denzel that you did not want to be with him anymore. Once you and Loki were officially together, he did back off. It was somewhat reluctant, but he did it nonetheless. And he even managed to be pleasant and friendly when you and Loki ran into him in town. But the bottom line is, there was no one trying to come between you and your prince anymore.

“And why is that?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Because I somehow won your heart.”

“Loki,” you gushed. “You have to stop taking all of these cliches or there will be none left for me! But still, thanks, my knight in shining armor.”

“See, there are plenty for you! But as you wish, my love,” he laughed. “I will just have to write you poems and serenades instead.”

You got very flustered at that. He had sung for you once, as promised, and his voice was even more beautiful than you had imagined. The thought of him singing something of his own creation made you swoon, especially if it was written for you. You poked him for laughing at your embarrassment, but before you could tease him back, the front door opened.

“Mommy!” Matt cheered, pulling himself away from the TV show he was immersed in. “Daddy! Did you bring the babies?”

“Yes, small fry,” John laughed. “We brought your new brother and sister.”

“Yay! I wanna see! I wanna see!”

Ana went to sit on the couch with her daughter, and John followed with their two sons. Matt’s new younger siblings laughed as he waved to them. It made the four-year-old smile.

“This is your little sister, Scarlett,” Ana told Matt. “And your little brother. James.”

You teared up a little hearing that. You’d already been told, of course, that they named him after your brother, but it still made you emotional. Loki pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head. He looked at the happy family and let himself imagine having a family with you for a second. He’d been thinking about it a lot recently, and he realized he wanted to adopt. It was ironic, sure, given his own history. Then again, maybe it made perfect sense. He wanted to be able to give some kid what he hadn’t. Maybe he couldn’t change what happened to him, but he could stop it from happening again. Either way, he would wait until Thanos has been dealt with. After all, he didn’t want the child to be in any danger.

Mama and Papa came out of the kitchen carrying a cake, which Loki was very happy to say he had helped baked. Helped Mama bake it, as a matter of fact. Things were still tense, to say the very least, when he’d first come back to the farm. They were still working on it a little even now, but it was better overall. She was certainly more accepting and picked fewer fights. Mama was happier now, too, something that seemed to take a weight off your shoulders.

Ana made a joke about how she should be trying to get her figure back, but still happily accepted a slice. Your family stayed there until that evening, talking, laughing. The babies were surprisingly quiet, and Loki slowly rocked Scarlett back and forth as she slept, his ability to be nurturing still somewhat shocking him. James was in your arms, and you looked at your nephew with hope in your eyes. After such a dark time, the future was looking bright indeed.

“My darling,” Loki said later that night as you were sitting together on the porch, enjoying each other’s company. “I want to thank you.”

“Oh? What for?” you asked, snuggling close to him.

“For showing me another way. For helping me move on. For accepting me. For everything you’ve ever done. For loving me. All of it. You, my little mortal, are my angel, my savior, my whole heart. And for saving me from myself, I thank you.”

“Oh, Loki. You don’t have to thank me for that. Believe me, it is my pleasure. You’ve saved me so much, too. But you’re right, I do love you, and I always will.”

He whispered your name against your lips in the seconds before he kissed you. Just like every one before and every one after, it was perfect. A promise of love and loyalty. Of trust. It was everything he had ever wanted. You were everything he needed.

Of all the places in the universe the Tesseract could have taken him, it made sense that it chose here. With you, Loki knew he was safe. He knew he was home.

[hoenursey]

I posted 2,971 times in 2021

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For every post I created, I reblogged 41.4 posts.

I added 187 tags in 2021

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Longest Tag: 139 characters

#(mostly bc eugenics don’t work but also bc he’s a cunt) is a perfectly fine reason to build a life of crime and proceed to blame him for it

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

here it is, y’all, the nurseydex theatre kid au i never finished (and probably won’t ever). if any of y’all remember, this was going to be the othello au lol !! whoops.

_X_

God hated him, obviously. That much was apparent. God hated him or did not exist, because no loving god would do this to him. No loving god would have him, fingers wrapped delicately and squeezing ever so slightly at one (1) William J. Poindexter’s slim neck, and no loving god would force him to have his blocking so that he needed a knee wedged between Will’s thighs and his other hand pinning his wrist to the bed, and there was absolutely, positively no loving god that would have Will gazing up at him, pupils blown wide as a half erection tented the silk nightgown he was in, in the middle of Samwell College’s black box theatre.

There was just no way in hell, Derek reasoned, as Will swallowed and he felt the bob of his throat run down, down, down the center of his palm. A loving god would open up the floor and fucking eat him, just let him die right then and there.

“Will, you should be thrashing!” Monetta yelled, and Derek flinched, then forced himself to relax and slowly pulled back.

It happened like this.

“We have no backup for Desdemona,” Monetta spat. “Who fucking– who changes their major now? Who drops a class in the middle of the fucking semester? Can you even do that?” She whirled around, eyes wild, and Derek backed up slightly. Monet could be kind of… wild, sometimes, when she got going.

“Uh–”

“It’s rhetorical!”

Everyone in the theatre flinched.

“I need a backup. I need one now. I don’t care if it’s a fucking dog. If the dog can act, I don’t give a shit. I just need a fucking actor. Find someone who’s got chemistry with Derek and I will fucking kiss you.”

“I’d prefer it not be a dog,” he said hesitantly, and Monetta turned her head in his direction. Only her head, and a single, mad-looking eye focused on him.

“But you know what? I, uh. Can work with that. A dog, I mean. Anything. The show must go on.”

Monetta’s head turned back, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“Hey, what about Will?”

Nevermind, he thought to himself bitterly. He turned a flat look on Chris, who was smiling cheerfully, as usual, a wrench in his hand.

“Who?” Monetta asked. Her brow was creased, the script she’d been waving still dangling from her long fingers.

“He–” Derek tried to say, but then Monetta threw the script at him as Chris said, “He’s the one who’s been helping Larissa with sets! Me, Will, and Derek had our freshman humanities course together!”

“What does he look like?”

“Red hair, freckle-y,” Mandy called from the rafters.

“Mega freckle-y,” Jenny confirmed. “And he’s, like, p good at acting. He’s got a great voice, loud and, like, strong and stuff? Super pale, kind of angry just like as a person. He’s a little awkward but like once you get him comfortable it’s fine. We had 1302 together; actually, it was Othello, so he already knows the lines! He’s super rad!”

Monetta turned to him, and he gave her an uncomfortable look. “Please tell me you can work with him. Derek. Please. We really, really, really don’t have time to do another open casting call, and frankly all the non-actors in here suck. Please. We have three. months. Tell me you don’t have any problems with him.”

“He’s an asshole,” Derek grumbled. “A rude asshole who thinks i'm irresponsible and laughs at me when I fall–”

“But can you work with him on stage?”

Derek sighed softly as Monetta turned the closest thing she had to puppy dog eyes on him.

“You’re helping with my calc work,” he said tiredly, and she beamed at him. “Call him up, Chris. See if we can get him here by tomorrow.”

It happened like this: Monetta took one look at William Poindexter and fell in love with him. He monologued for her and she looked ready to propose. They found a costume (after damn near an hour of sizing and shaping and pinning and honestly, his ass was just unfair) and she had their children’s names picked out.

“Thank you so much for this. I’m so sorry we had to call you in so late, and this is so–”

“It’s, um, not a problem?” he said, almost a question, smile curving his pink lips, because of course he had an uncomfortably endearing smile.

“Monetta, one problem,” Caitlin Farmer said muffledly. They looked down at her where she was hemming the bottoms of Will’s pants, a few pins tucked between her lips.

“Yes, Caitlin?” Monetta asked, voice tense. Caitlin pulled the pins from her mouth and handed them to Derek, saying lightly, “Hold these, please?”

“Uh, we don’t have any period clothes for this. The sleep scene, where Othello kills Desdemona? We only have women’s robes and gowns, and I know costuming gets cumulative grades on like accuracy. It won’t be so bad if the rest of the costuming is good, but we’re hella underprepared and I know they don’t want to make an entire new outfit this late in the show.”

“What do you have?” Will asked. Monetta, Caitlin, and Derek all looked at him, surprised– he hadn’t really said much outside of a few words confirming or agreeing with whatever they said.

“Just… silk nightgowns. That’s it. The little strappy shift ones? You probably don’t want to wear those, i’m sorry–”

“It’s-- uh, don't worry about it,” he interrupted gently. “A few weeks in a shift dress isn’t going to kill me. Besides, i’m already gay and, uh, sort of out, so like, what's the worst they can say to me?” Derek’s brain went blank. Will was gay? Will was gay? Was he single? Why did he care?

“Derek!”

“Sorry, what?” he asked, blinking at Monetta.

“I said, go get ready for practice. We’ve gotta get your blocking down.”

“O-okay,” he managed.

“And I want you and Will to practice outside of this period! Go hang out, get dinner in the dining hall together! You’re supposed to be married, okay?”

Shit. Fucking shit fuck shit– “Okay, Monetta. Dinner, dining hall, practice. I’ve got it. I can hear perfectly clearly.”

“But does your brain work? I doubt you sometimes.”

It happened like this: they started having dinner together, and then lunch together, and then breakfast, and then Derek was sitting with the engineering majors and Will was sitting with the poetry kids and they were both sitting with the theatre kids. It happened like this: they bickered, and Derek flirted, and Will snarked, and they practiced until they were dead on their feet.

It happened like this: they hadn’t practiced kissing by themselves, just line work, because they didn’t really have the space to do blocking anyways. Or that was what he told himself, anyways, because he kept thinking about how much he wanted to, and he poured over the kissing scenes in private: how he’d kiss him, how delicately or firmly it would be done, and how most of all there wouldn’t be much more effort to pretend that he was madly in love with him, because of course he had to fall in love with anyone who smiled at him.

It happened like this: Monetta needed them to practice the kissing scenes in rehearsal.

“You’re both single, right?” she asked idly as she checked over the set backgrounds, Derek scanning over his blocking notecards from on top of one of their desks.

“Huh?”

“You and Will. Single?”

“Well... I am,” Derek said slowly. “But I wouldn't know about Poindexter. He's never mentioned a partner though, and it doesn't seem like his style to not, like, say anything. Want me to ask?”

“Sorry, I had to drop off some supplies to the culinary lab,” Will called, the door slamming behind him, and they turned to look at him.

“Will,” Monetta hedged, “You’re single, right?”

He paused, looking at her curiously, then nodded a little jerkily, shrugging off his bag and jacket. Nursey tried not to stare at the way his shoulders filled out the tight red “Samwell Computing” shirt (gay, gay, gay, his brain was chanting, gay, gay, stop thinking about how broad his shoulders are, gay). “Far as I know.”

“Great,” Monetta said, relieved. “Sorry, just… last time, we accidentally caused a few breakups? And chairs got thrown. I really don't wanna see that happen again.”

Will chuckled softly, flexing his wrists a little and then pushing up onto the stage with his hands, rolling into a standing position neatly. Derek was dying. “Well, no angry, uh, boyfriends here. Or girlfriends.”

“Fantastic,” she murmured. “I’d hate for you to have a chair thrown at your head, we really don’t have the time to find another Desdemona.”

“You know you’re supposed to care about other people’s well-being, right?” Jenny called down from above the stage, where she was fixing up some of the lighting that had fallen earlier. Mandy nodded in agreement.

Monetta took a moment to consider it, face thoughtful, and then shrugged, pivoting on her foot and walking away from Will and Derek.

“No time for that either! Everyone get dressed, we’ve got a lot of work to do today and some people still aren’t off book.”

“It’s literally just act two,” Connor said irritably from the fourth row, though he still stood to move backstage. “That’s it. Excuse me for not memorizing every single one of Iago’s stupid little asides--”

March smacked him on the back of the head and he yelped, indignant. “What was that for?”

“You don’t have to get insulted four times a week for a month, Wisnewski,” she grumbled, “So can it.”

71 notes • Posted 2021-02-22 00:02:36 GMT

#4

i am jack zimmermann’s defense attorney instead of arguing with people who say bad things tho i just kill them

78 notes • Posted 2021-08-13 14:35:41 GMT

#3

tired of wholesome content where’s my toxic nurseydex

81 notes • Posted 2021-04-10 23:25:34 GMT

#2

holster is a new york jew and ransom is nigerian so i think their love language is being loud and arguing <3

113 notes • Posted 2021-11-30 18:43:34 GMT

#1

@bitemefockinforehead on tiktok

okay but derek malik nurse,

219 notes • Posted 2021-02-11 22:17:57 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[pishufics]

study date(s)

"Bertholdt knows that he needs to start trying. It’s junior year, and he’d rather not stay stuck in the same class next year as a senior. If he fails the next test, he’s in some shit. So, he's going to ask you for help."

pairing - bertholdt hoover x reader

tags - high school au, fluff, humor, texting

warnings - none

author’s note -  this was just a one shot but i kept writing lol it kind of switches between you and bertholdt, but i don't directly say his thoughts, it's kind of like 2nd person omniscient if that's even a thing LOL

lmk how the texting reads, i'll change it if it's weird

reblogs and comments are appreciated ! mwah

ao3 

chapter 1 - two days

reinah: I swear if you don’t just ASK her

Do you want to be held back?

bertoto: relax okay i’ll do it :(

r: Okay, okay

Lmk how it goes

b: i never said i was asking today

Bertholdt sighs and locks his phone once he sees Reiner start to type a reply.

Bertholdt is struggling with English, which surprises him. He’s a good student in every other class, but the moment Mr. Ackermann starts talking, he finds himself dozing off, missing the lecture. Recently, though, he’s awake in class, but still not paying attention. All his focus is on you, who sat in the middle of the classroom while he sat in the back, due to his height (he didn’t really mind, though; better chance of not getting caught asleep).

One day, due to some miraculous occurrence, the short, stern teacher actually had the boy’s attention, but not for long.

“Does anyone have number three?” Mr. Ackermann asked. Bertholdt definitely didn’t. He hoped someone would raise their hand so the teacher wouldn’t resort to calling a random name.

To his relief, you did.

“I think what the author was trying to convey was…”

Bertholdt didn’t really get what you were saying, but he admired your intelligence. You knew the material and could explain it in detail, while he couldn’t even recall the book's name in question.

He started to admire more of your traits - he gazed as you would lightly, but briskly, tap your foot in frustration when you didn’t know an answer and smile at the way your face relaxed when you finally got it. Seeing your motivation in class kickstarted his.

Bertholdt knows that he needs to start trying. It’s junior year, and he’d rather not stay stuck in the same class next year as a senior. If he fails the next test, he’s in some shit.

So, he's going to ask you for help.

...Tomorrow.

-

“Girl, I don’t have any more fucking gum. I drove up to Costco, bought the value sized pack, and you somehow managed to chew all of it.” You say exasperatedly, shutting your locker.

Sasha pouts. “Are you sureeee? There’s prolly half a stick left in your front pocket…”

You swat her hand away. “There’s. Nothing. Left. I promise.” She continues to stare at your bag.

“Fuckin-” You mutter, reaching into your bag and pulling out a snack-size bag of Cheezits. They’re one of your favorite snacks, but you know you can’t win when it comes to Sasha and food. You reluctantly hand the bag to her.

“Thanks, y/n!” She smiles and tears open the bag.

“Yknow, you can be annoying as shit, Sasha.”

She winks at you and eats her stolen prize. You turn to leave and head to 3rd period. English.

Hm. You’re usually greeted by your other best friend around now-

“Yeoooo!!” Oh, there he is. Connie daps you up before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “What’s good?”

“I don’t really wanna go to 3rd," you answer. "Sasha stole my Cheezits."

“Does anyone really wanna go to any class? And that's your fault, you know you can't bring food without Sasha's fatass taking it,” Connie replies, and Sasha punches his shoulder.

“Okay, I know...have you started studying for the test?”

He blankly stares at you. Guess not. You have the same teacher, but different periods, so you can’t keep an eye on him.

“Nevermind. I’ll see y’all later.” You throw up a peace sign and head in the opposite direction.

It’s not like you’re bad at English, but you just don’t like school in general. You go to class to get your participation grade, then go home.

There might be another reason you tolerate 3rd period, though, and it isn’t the professor. (He is pretty fine, but he's an adult, so you don’t let your thoughts escalate).

-

Mr. Ackermann didn’t like assigning things online, so most of the work in this class was on paper, contrasting your other classes where everything was digital. Kind of annoying, but you’ve learned to deal with it.

You mainly use mechanical pencils because you hate the way wooden ones write, but one day, to your slight dismay, you forgot them at home. Just your luck.

There’s a container of pencils and a sharpener in the back of the classroom, so you stand up to go retrieve one and notice a tall boy asleep in a desk not too far back from yours.

Bertholdt Hoover.

You knew him, of course. You find it a little rude to not know your classmates' names; you’ve dealt with numerous “who?”s in previous years and don’t want to put anyone through that, so you make sure to pay attention during introductions.

You chuckle at sight. The class has barely even started, and the guy is already dozing. In an awkward position, at that. One of his long legs is across the other, cramped underneath the desk. His head was laying on his right arm with his left against his hair. You thought to wake him up, but he looked so peaceful, you couldn't bring yourself to do it, plus, it's not your business. Mr Ackermann somehow didn't notice either, so Bertholdt always had a good rest in 3rd period English.

Every time you walked into class, you checked to see what weird position he would be sleeping in. You found yourself looking forward to it- he looked kinda cute when he was sleeping- but he stopped one day. You were a little disappointed, but glad to know that he was starting to pay attention in class. You still glanced at him as you walked in- he's a pretty attractive guy. No harm in just looking...

-

You shrug your backpack off and sit at your desk, stretching your legs out a bit. The walk from your locker to this classroom was kind of far. You reach into your bag, get your mechanical pencil out, and wait for Mr Ackermann to pass out the first assignment.

Just then, you hear someone walk up to your desk, and you glance over.

‘Oh, it’s Bertholdt. I don’t think we’ve ever spoken.’ You feel your face heat up, wondering what he wanted from you.

“Hey, y/n…” He nervously starts.

“Hey. Need something?”

“Yeah, actually...about the upcoming test.”

You hum in curiosity. “What about it?”

He clears his throat. “I’m lowkey failing this class, and if I mess up this test, I’ll have to retake this class next year. Do you think you could, uh…”

Bertholdt inhales in an attempt to calm himself down. It doesn’t really work.

“Could you help me study?” Phew. He managed to get it out pretty well and made a mental note to give himself a pat on the back later. But he hasn’t fully succeeded yet; you still need to agree.

You weren't opposed to the idea. You kind of figured he would be struggling in class a bit since he used to sleep all the time. It’s alright with you, and you wouldn’t mind a potential new friend. Sasha and Connie were exhausting at times.

“Yeah, sure. When?” You pause. “Actually, just text me.” You hold out your hand, asking for his phone.

Bertholdt was practically shaking in his sneakers as he reached into his pocket and handed you his unlocked phone with the contacts app open. You actually agreed! And you were giving him your number! Reiner was going to be so proud, he smiled to himself.

As you type in your info, you appreciate the cleanliness of his phone. That shows you that he’s at least hygienic.

“Aight. Here you go,” you return his device. “See you later.” You smile.

Bertholdt can’t believe this is happening.

Mr Ackermann’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “Oi, Hoover. Sit down.”

Startled, he jumps back a bit at the sudden acknowledgement. He was focused on you and tuned everything else out.

“Sorry, sir.” Bertholdt gives you a quick grin and turns to go back to his desk. Once he sits, he looks down at the new contact:

y/n :)

xxx-xxx-xxxx

Bertholdt can’t help but smile. Just seeing your name and number on his screen made him giddy, and he thought that the smiley face you added was adorable.

His thoughts are interrupted yet again, but not by the teacher. He looks down at his phone, which just buzzed.

| Messages

reinah

Did you do it yet bruh

Good timing. Bertholdt taps on the notification and goes to type a reply, but decides to send him a screenshot of your contact…with your number scribbled out. Reiner was a flirt, and he didn’t want to risk anything.

r: YOOOOOOOOOO HOLY SHIT U ACTUALLY DID IT

Bertholdt rolls his eyes and puts his phone in his backpack. He was going to pay attention- for real - today. He didn't want to seem too clueless when you tutored him.

“Can anyone tell me what rhetorical strategy is being used here?” Mr. Ackermann asked.

Bertholdt certainly could not. But that was changing soon, with your help.

--

“Okaay, we got Ms. Tutor over here now,” Sasha smiles in between bites of a burger.

“Do you even know how to, like, teach, though?” Connie gives you a skeptical look.

“It prolly isn’t too hard. All I gotta do is help him study. If he needs help understanding a concept, I’ll just explain it,” you defend yourself. “We still have two weeks. Ion mind making flashcards or something.”

“You’re getting into it, huh?” Sasha laughs.

Your face heats in embarrassment. “Girl, you know it isn’t like that.”

“And why not? You’re always bitching about how lonely you are. High school isn’t gonna last forever…” she replies.

“I have no recollection of saying anything like that.” You glare. But she isn’t exactly wrong. You’d like to experience the “high school romance” you’ve heard so much about, and Bertholdt is pretty cute. It’s not like dating is a significant concern, though.

“I’m always here as an option, y/n,” Connie winks as he takes a sip of his soda.

“Hell nah.”

Across the cafeteria, Bertholdt is trying to eat a sandwich, but Reiner won’t leave him alone. He was right about Reiner being proud, but Bertholdt almost forgot how persistent the jock could get.

“I didn’t think you had the balls, dude. I was ready to see English 3 on your schedule again next year,” He grins, arm around his taller friend's shoulders.

“...Can I eat?” Bertholdt sighs and shrugs his friend away.

“Have you texted her yet? What day are you gonna hang out with her? You gonna bring her anything? Flowers or somethin’? Girls like that kinda stuff.”

Bertholdt didn’t really think that was true.

“First off, no, not yet. I need to see when I can actually go. Second, no, I am not bringing her anything. I didn’t say it was a date. She’s going to help me study.”

“Fine, man. At least try to seem more interesting, yknow, so she can like...be interested in you.”

“Are you saying I’m boring? Ouch,” He jokingly pouts and rolls his eyes at Reiner’s double usage of ‘interesting.’

“You said it, not me.”

“Okay, I don’t wanna hear that from you...if it came from Annie, then I’d believe it.” Bertholdt looks in the blonde’s direction. She took a bite from her burger, looked up from her phone, and shrugged.

“Damn, for real?” Bertholdt sinks. He didn’t think he was that dull. He did lots of interesting stuff, like…

Like…

Bertholdt sighs in defeat.

“It’s fine. Maybe y/n likes boring,” Bertholdt huffs, taking another bite from his sandwich.

“Yeah, okay, keep telling yourself that and see where it gets you…” Reiner mumbles.

“Come again?”

“Nothing, man…”

School's been over for an hour or two. You’re aimlessly scrolling through your phone when you feel a buzz, and glance towards the top of the screen.

| Messages

xxx-xxx-xxxx

hey

it’s bertholdt 😁

where should we meet up?

Your heart starts to beat a little faster. ‘Relax, girl… don't act like he's asking you out or something,’ you tell yourself.

y/n: hey!

how abt the library?

+  what day/ time works for you?

You add his number to your contacts as you wait for his response.

bertholdt :^)

is saturday at 3 okay?

y/n: yep

do you need a ride or anything?

b: no, but thank you

see you then ☺️

y/n: alrighty :)

You smile at his use of emojis, send what he requested, then swipe down on your screen to check the day (what? It's normal to forget sometimes.) Wednesday. Two days.

You feel like it would be awkward to study with Bertholdt considering you aren’t really friends, so you decide to text him a little more so it isn't too bad when the day arrives.

----

“See? That wasn’t so hard!” Reiner exclaims. “You could’ve tried to talk to her more, but it went good!”

“I think it would’ve been weird if I did say anything else. Best to leave it at that…” Bertholdt exclaims, trying to calm himself down. He had two days.

He wonders what he should do now. Study so he could impress you? Do something to make himself seem more interesting? What would he even do...?

Bertholdt taps back onto the conversation to reread it for the 6th time. Was there anything he could’ve said different? Should he try asking you someth-

Oh, wait-? You’re typing?

“Oh shit- Dude, she’s saying something else. What do I do?” He begins to panic. Did you suddenly decide he wasn’t worth your time? Were you cancelling?

y/n: sooo

how’s your day been?

Whaaaaaatttt?? You actually...care to ask?

Bertholdt stared at his phone in surprise.

“What’d she say? Cmon! Don’t just look, dude!”

“She...asked how my day’s been-”

“-You gotta reply now! You were on the chat when she said it, so she knows you’ve read it!” Reiner urges.

Shit. He doesn't have enough time to think of a good reply.

good, but better since i’m texting you 😉|

The hell? No, that’s weird. And too soon. He tries again...

pretty good, thanks!

kinda stressing over the test, haha

how’s your day going?

There we go. He twiddles his thumbs as he waits for your reply.

y/n :)

oh, dw, it’ll be fine !

my day was okay

sasha took my last bag of cheez its :(

b: ah, i'm sorry abt that :(

+ yeah, you're right

have you as my tutor :)

“Nice job man! That was...kinda flirty? You’ll get there!” Reiner ruffles his hair in encouragement, and Bertholdt shoos him away. He stares at his phone in anticipation. Was that too much?

----

i have you as my tutor :)

You lean your head on your pillow and feel your face heat up at the compliment ( was that a compliment?)

It’s not like you’re dumb, so he’s not wrong to think that. Your lips curl into a smile as you reread the message. But how do you reply? Should you compliment him back? You don’t really know.

if you’re saying i’m smart, thank you :))

hoping that wasn't sarcasm lol

You wait a minute, and he doesn’t reply, so you decide to ask another question.

is there anything specific you wanna focus on?

You cringe at the double texting, but hope that it doesn't make him think you're weird. You swipe away from the conversation and scroll on various apps as you wait.

b: ofc it wasn’t sarcasm, you're really smart, y/n!

i'm mainly struggling with rhetorical strategies and logical fallacies, but i could

use a general review too

if that's okay with you

You bury your almost overheating face into your pillow. Why is something like that getting you flustered, you wonder. You sit up, take a deep breath, and focus on the second part of his message. You're pretty good with what he needs work on, and a general review should be easy to put together.

y/n :) okay, we can focus on the first 2 on saturday

we can review the unit on other days

see you at school:)

At this point, you really don’t know how this conversation could go any further, so you ended it. Bertholdt returns your goodbye.

You exhale and sit up in your bed. Hopefully tutoring him won’t be too awkward now that you’ve spoken to him a bit, and there's still tomorrow at school to speak to him. You find yourself excited for the study date tutoring session, since you could get your homework done too.

"Two days," you smile.

[bbysamu]

House Party Series

First party of the semester ft. Akaashi Keiji x f!reader (special appearances by Atsumu, Bokuto, Terushima, Daichi, Makki) 

Song: Lotus flower bomb by Wale & Miguel (slowed + reverbed) (make sure to listen as you read, sets the mood) 

Warning: mentions of drinking, suggestive-ish

Preview: Akaashi is a member of an asian-interest fraternity and by chance, got to know you better at a mixer (party). Needless to say, he’s intrigued....

a/n: New series alert! I had so much fun writing this, loosely based on a true story. If you like it, please let me know by pressing like / reblogging and follow me for more! In the meantime, check out my masterlist! 

♥️  Special Match-Up Event Open – Check out rules here and submit here or here (for anon)

Akaashi Keiji didn’t know why he always allowed himself to be roped into situations like this. Parties really were not his thing, but his brothers insisted on him showing up at every mixer with the other sororities because it’ll “boost” attendance. 

“Come on Keiji, you know all the girls only really attend our mixers for you, apparently you’re the cutest one here”. 

“that’s not true, you guys are always the one who end up with the girls in your arms.” Akaashi grumbled quietly. 

“that is true, but you better come out tonight”. 

[ 10:15 pm ]

Akaashi sat on the rugged black sofa and watched his brothers run around prepping the house for the party. Someone (who sounded suspiciously like Atsumu) yelled, “The girls just texted me saying they’ll be here in about ten minutes. They sent me a picture, the babes are looking so good today. Y’all better get ready!” 

“Come on Keiji, help me bring the jungle juice to the table” Bokuto yelled out to his friend. Akaashi reluctantly went over, looking at the bright red liquid in skepticsm, “what the heck did you add in here today?” 

Bokuto grinned, “oh you know, the special. Some vodka, raspberry juice, a hint of fireball and a whole lot of love”. 

Akaashi could practically feel the burning liquid in his throat, Bokuto’s definition of “a hint” usually meant a little more than one bottle. 

Suddenly the lights were dimmed, loud, bass-pumping music echoed throughout the house.

“Smile Keiji, the girls are almost here”. 

[ 10:30 pm ]

Akaashi was once again placed on door duty because he was “the cutest”. The doorbell rang once, twice. 

“Passcode?” 

Girly giggles erupted before saying “Terushima Yuji is the hottest”. 

Akaashi rolled his eyes, of course Terushima, the social chair, the biggest flirt of the entire house would choose a password like this. 

He opened the door, nose immediately hit with a strong mixture of flower, candy and fruit, making him sneeze. 

“Bless you baby”, the president of the sorority said, flashing Akaashi a smile. He returned the smile weakly, wanting nothing more than to escape from door duty. 

One by one the girls walked in, giggling and flashing flirty smiles at Keiji. He smiled politely, thinking to himself, “yeah I guess Atsumu was right, the girls are looking cute tonight”. 

[ 10:59 pm ] 

Akaashi sat on the stairs bored, one more minute until his shift was over. He highly doubt there would be anymore guest. A soft knock on the door proved him wrong. He opened the door to find (Y/N) standing there, surprised to see her wrapped in a winter jacket. Though it was definitely a cold night in January, most girls simply showed up in their dresses or skirt, too lazy to carry their jacket. 

“Well, Keiji, can I come in?” (Y/N) asked cheekily. 

Akaashi cleared his throat, “yeah, of course, come on in”. 

“This is so much better, I was freezing out there”. 

“If you were freezing out there and you had a jacket on, how much colder were you sisters? none of them had jackets on.” 

He watched as her eyes opened in shock, shaking her head in disappointment “again? I specifically told them to wear their jackets and we could just leave it in one of your bedrooms”. 

“Speaking of which, Keiji you want to let my jacket borrow your bedroom for the night?” She asked him. 

“Nope, use Makki’s”. Akaashi replied, knowing full well that Makki was in love with you. 

“Fine, fine I’ll hang it up in Makki’s room”. (Y/N) replied, unbuttoning her jacket and shimmying it off her body. Akaashi’s eyes slightly widened at her outfit underneath. It wasn’t promiscuous at all, Y/N did not like dressing that way, but she had an impeccable sense of style and knew what worked and what didn’t. And right now, that little black halter top, with her black jeans definitely worked for her. Akaashi quickly looked away, coughing to hide his rising blush. 

“I know the way, I’ll talk to you later Keiji. Don’t party too hard.” 

“I’ll try my best”, he replied, making the both of you laugh knowing full well he’s most likely going to just stay on the sofa later. 

[ 11: 10 pm ] 

Now that all the guests have arrived, Terushima lowered the music volume and called everyone to the main living room. His eyes glint with mischief. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first mixer of the year!” He waited for the applauses and whistles to die down before continuing, “we got some fresh new faces, so let’s go around and introduce ourselves, and ladies please, after you introduce yourself give us a little twirl so we can admire your outfit”. That last sentence earned Terushima a smack on the head by Daichi, the president, but the girls nodded and giggled. 

One by one people started to introduce themselves, their name, year, and that little twirl, which some of the brothers did as well. 

The room fell quiet as Y/N introduced herself, the brothers staring intently at her. A coy smile on her face as she introduced herself before twirling around, giving everyone a 360 look at her outfit. 

Yells of support echoed throughout the house as her sisters clapped and shouted, “Go Y/N! thats my sister” or “my sister is so hot!” 

“Ever the flirt”, Akaashi thought to himself, smiling, knowing full well that’s just her natural personality. He looked over at Makki, who was so obviously blushing, even in the dim light. 

Akaashi sighed inwardly, tired of seeing his brother’s lack of action. If Makki really liked Y/N, he should go talk to her instead of always wandering into Keiji’s room ranting about how beautiful she is. 

[ 11:30 PM ] 

The music was once again turned up full volume. People were scattered all over the house, some were huddled by the kitchen table playing kings’ cup or beer pong, others dancing in the living room, a few cuddled up by the couch. 

Makki came over to sit by Keiji.

“Go talk to her”, Keiji’s head nodded slightly in Y/N’s direction, who was walking around the room checking up on her sisters. 

Makki sighed, “no, I know she doesn’t like me that way”. 

Keiji had enough of Makki’s lack of action. Makki’s crush was a well-known secret, ever since he first laid eyes on Y/N. They were friends, but as his feelings got more intense, Makki found it harder and harder to carry on a full conversation with her. 

Keiji didn’t want to endure another late night chat comforting Makki and listening to him ramble about how “perfect” Y/N was. 

“Come on, I’ll go with you and join the convo, then leave a little later.” 

Makki sighed again and stood up to follow Keiji. 

“Hi boys, what’s up?” Y/N said, eyes side glancing over at the two boys before turning her attention back to making sure one of her already-tipsy sister was drinking enough water. 

“nothing, we just wanted to chat with you,” Keiji replied, “right, Makki?” 

“yes, and uh...you look very nice tonight,” Makki said shyly. 

“awww thank you babe, you look nice too” Y/N said absentmindedly. Unbeknownst to Makki, “babe” was Y/N’s “affectionate word of the day”. Keiji had heard from another sister that in order to boost more sisterly love, her sorority has instituted an “affectionate word of the day” activity. But before Keiji could tell Makki, Makki was already a blushing mess, unable to function. 

“I...um...babe...um...need water,” Makki said, before dashing away. 

Y/N turned to Akaashi confused, “did I say something?” 

Akaashi sighed, “nah, he’s just a weirdo”. 

Y/N laughed slightly at Keiji’s comment and flashed him a smile, “so...you wanted to chat. How’s it going?” 

Akaashi’s heart suddenly skipped a beat, “same old, same old”. 

“You know what your problem is Keiji?” Y/N turned her full attention to him, “you need to relax babe.” 

“I am relaxed.” 

“Yes yes, but your relaxing is boring.” 

Akaashi smiled in amusement, “what does that even mean?” 

A sudden change of song had Y/N standing up taller, “it means, come dance with me because this is my favorite song”. 

♫ We're living in a fantasy I feel it when you dance with me♫ 

The light seemed to dim even lower as Y/N grabbed Akaashi’s hand, pulling him towards the dance floor. Y/N started moving to the beat of the music, eyes beckoning Akaashi to do the same. 

Akaashi knew Y/N was a good dancer from seeing her move at previous mixers, but to dance next to her was a whole other story. 

He moved closer, putting one hand on her waist, she glanced up shyly to him, any hint of her usual flirtiness gone. Her duality shocked Akaashi in the best of ways. The two continued dancing, the space between them gradually lessening as the melody played on and on. 

“Now, now, this kind of relaxation is more fun isn’t it Keiji?” 

Akaashi smiled down at you and nodded. 

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Fifteen

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: Not beta-read. I hope everyone has had a nice week! Warnings: Some cursing; some angst ... I don’t wanna spoil it for y’all But!! Thank you for all of the likes and reblogs and comments!! I love chatting with y’all 🥰 Summary:  Once I’d seen the notification of Pike’s message, panic had shot through me. I didn’t open it, I didn’t answer it. Whatever conversation he wanted to have with me, surely he’d want to wait until the tea wore off, anyway.

“I thought Boyce told you to go to your quarters.” My hands were already clenched into fists, so I didn’t need to find a way to hide my reaction to hearing that voice again, so close, and so soon. Once I’d seen the notification of Pike’s message, panic had shot through me. I didn’t open it, I didn’t answer it. Whatever conversation he wanted to have with me, surely he’d want to wait until the tea wore off, anyway. I knew that there was no way a shower and working through a poem was going to get my mind off this (though my grasp of Klingon was getting better). I’d gotten changed and gone down to the gym. I was relieved to find it empty. I needed to work off some of the nervous energy that had been pulsing through me for the last hour.

My assumption about what Pike wanted had been wrong. Here he was, behind me, his voice almost stony in its reminder of what the doctor had told me. I raised my hands to steady the punching bag before turning back to face the Captain. “He did,” I nodded, “And I went. He didn’t tell me to stay there.”

Pike’s face was unreadable. That was new -- that was bad. I’d spent so much time around the man that I could usually at least gauge his mood. In private, Pike tended to wear his every thought, every feeling on his sleeve. He was guarding himself now. I couldn’t be too offended - I was, too. We’d crossed a line on Koutov, and I didn’t know what it meant for my professional relationship with the Captain, or my time on the Enterprise - if I had any left. “He told you to get rest,” Pike reminded me. “I can do that when I’m finished here.” Pike took a deep breath, face unmoving, still. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was feeling - irritation? Fury? Hurt? Betrayal? I couldn’t imagine it being anything light or fluffy where I was concerned, not right now. I’d probably know exactly what he was feeling if I’d heeded his message when he’d sent it, but I wasn’t ready to face whatever this was about to be. “I need to speak with you,” He said quietly, “About what happened.” “We can do that when I’m finished here, too.” “Now, lieutenant.” Everything in me was screaming to not be stupid, to not make this worse, but my mouth opened and I answered, “Later, Captain.” I saw Pike’s jaw muscle twitch as he clenched his teeth. I’d seen him frustrated, sure, but I’d never seen him angry. He gave one firm nod before he said, “Fine.” I watched him reach up and unzip his command jacket to reveal a black long-sleeve shirt underneath. “Wh-What are you doing?” I asked, watching him step aside and setting his jacket on the bench where I’d left my water bottle and communicator. “Best two out of three,” Pike answered, tone clipped, “If you win, we talk later. If I win, we talk now.” “You can’t be serious.” “Do I look like I’m joking, lieutenant?” 

He really didn’t. In fact, he had already gone to the mats and taken up a fighting stance. I sighed quietly, mirroring his stance and taking a breath to calm myself. “What counts as a win?” I asked. “Your opponent’s back hitting the mat. I believe you’re familiar with that feeling, lieutenant, considering the last time we had the occasion to spar, you wound up there a number of times. Five, if I’m not mistaken?” The goading had always worked before; Pike and I usually engaged in a fair bit of smack-talk when we were sparring. This was different, though. I really, really didn’t want to talk about what had happened on Koutov; I didn’t want to fight about it, and I certainly didn’t want to fist-fight about it. Did that tea amplify the bad feelings along with the good? The quickest way to end this would be to go for the vulnerable areas - his eyes, his throat, his crotch. But my fighting dirty could mean Pike reciprocating, and I could only imagine that going downhill exceptionally quickly. My contemplation had me so distracted that I nearly missed Pike drawing his right arm back for a hook. I raised both hands on instinct, stepping forward into the oncoming attack. I blocked his arm with my left and bent my right arm in toward my head, using my elbow to deflect any further attack from Pike’s upper body. He reeled away, taking two steps back before bringing his right leg up for a kick. I blocked one strike with my shin, then another, then another, working him a step back with each one. “Are you planning on attacking at all, lieutenant?” Pike snapped. “Why would I tell you?” I retorted before ducking out of the way out of a jab. I caught hold of Pike’s arm with my hands, twisting and turning under it before using his forward momentum to throw him over my shoulder. His back hit the mat with a satisfying thud. “...That’s one,” I added. I hesitated before I held my hand out to Pike. He ignored it, pushing himself off of the ground. “Again,” He ordered. I sighed heavily, resetting my stance. I wasn’t going to argue; I wasn’t going to throw out some line about how if I had kicked his ass once, I was sure to do it again. I was too distracted by the beads of sweat that were breaking out on his forehead. This was probably bad; that line of thinking had gotten me in enough trouble already. My eyes darted to his neck, then his arms before lifting to his face again. “Don’t get cocky, lieutenant,” Pike added, as if I’d said something. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain,” I retorted, “Ya gonna hit me or what?” “I threw the first punch before, I figured we’d switch it up. Ladies first.” “So we’re punching at the same time?” Whoops. So much for not engaging in smack-talk. Pike’s lips quirked into a dangerous little smile. “You feel really good about this, huh?” He asked, lowering his hands and straightening up. I narrowed my eyes, keeping my hands where they were and holding steady even as Pike slowly came closer. “Is this a new tactic?” I asked, nodding toward him. “Feeling very, very good about this--” “It’s not gonna work.” “What isn’t?” “This ‘lulling me into a false sense of security’ bullshit,” I said, gesturing toward where his hands were lowered at his sides, “I’m not buying it-- and I’m a little offended that you think I’m that stupid.” Pike tipped his head to the side “I don’t think you’re stupid.” “If you don't get your hands up in the next ten seconds, Captain, we’re not talking about shit until either I get my own ship or Una resigns.” Pike was halfway to getting his hands up before I went for a jab-hook combo. He took two steps back as I did, eyes widening a little. I pulled both punches, knowing he wouldn’t be ready for them. I aimed a kick next, but Pike shifted out of the way of it. I wobbled as my foot landed unsteadily on the ground. Pike’s hand landed on my shoulder before he stepped in, hooking his leg around mine. Then he turned and pulled me toward him. I watched him pivot with me, as if we were moving in slow motion. My breath left me in a huff as my back made contact with the mat. Pike stood over me, that dangerous little smile back on his face. ��You were saying, lieutenant?” I hesitated before I kicked my foot out, trying to sweep his feet. He hopped out of the way, chuckling and shaking his head. “I don’t think so. Up, come on.” I groaned as I pushed myself off of the floor. I never thought sparring with the Captain would get me in trouble; the man knew all of my moves now. I rolled my shoulders, flexing my fingers before clenching my hands into fists. There was no trash talk from either of us this time; both of us had just a little too much to lose. I don’t know if I was still winded from hitting the mat, burnt out from the tea running my emotions overtime, or just over fighting Pike, but this time, I made stupid decision after stupid decision. Pike went on the offensive - it took four kicks, one feint, two jabs, and I was on the floor. I had to fight the urge to kick my feet in frustration. “Let’s go,” Pike said firmly. I ignored the hand he held out to me as he had mine before. I grabbed my communicator and water bottle, following Pike out of the gym. Pissed as I was, we had a deal. When my head was clear, I wanted a damn rematch. I followed him in silence, expecting to go to the ready room. I stilled when I realized we were outside of his quarters. I bit my lip, eyes darting over Pike’s profile before looking up at down the halls, concerned someone would see us. He waved me inside when the door swooshed open. I stepped inside, fighting the urge to look around. The less time I spent being curious, the less time I’d have to would be in there. Pike walked further inside, tossing his jacket over the back of a chair. Was that wing-back-- No. No, I wasn’t looking. I lowered my eyes to the floor instead, tamping down the urge to look around. I leaned against the wall beside the door, folding my arms over my chest and waiting for Pike to speak. “You’re just going to stand there?” He asked after a moment. “You wanted to talk, so...Talk.” “Would you like to sit?” “I’m fine here.” I heard Pike sigh. “Aren’t you tired of fighting?” He grumbled as he came closer. I could feel the effects of the tea, still; my stomach swirled with nerves as Pike’s feet entered my field of vision. “That’s rich coming from you.” He hummed, reaching out and plucking my water bottle and communicator from my hands. I let them go; I doubted that Pike and I were about to start sparring in his quarters again, but I already mourned not having something to hold onto or fidget with. I heard him set them aside before he was standing in front of me again. “... What happened on Koutov,” He started, and oh, god, I already wanted to melt into the floor, “Was not ideal.” “An astute summation, Captain.” I saw Pike’s hand twitch by his side before he pressed on, “I recognize that we were -- and are -- under the effects of something that heightens our natural feelings.” I lifted my eyes to his, then, unable to help myself. I was wary, but so curious. “I also recognize that I crossed a boundary with you, and I’m sorry. It was unfair, and unprofessional, and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” How was he being so goddamn level-headed now when he’d been so full of vim and vigor in the gym? “...You didn’t,” I managed after a moment, shaking my head, “And I’m sorry that I crossed that line as well. I-- I should never have touched you.” Pike swallowed thickly. “I told you that that was alright,” He pointed out. I uncrossed my arms and waved off the excuse. “Be that as it may, it didn’t exactly help what followed.” I could still picture it - still feel it, Pike’s hand sliding under my collar. His eyes were darting down now, to my lips, my throat. I felt myself shiver before I averted my eyes. This was a bad idea, this was a really bad idea. I should’ve stayed in my quarters and taken a shower and worked on some Klingon, damnit. “Lieutenant…” Pike’s hands settled on either side of me on the wall, caging me in. “If it weren’t for Mr. Spock and Number One…” Pike stepped a little closer, our chests brushing; my eyelids fluttered closed as he rested his temple against mine, “If they hadn’t come back…” Our cheeks brushed and I felt my breath catch in my throat. “Y-Yes?” I managed. Pike didn’t answer, just turned his head. I peeked up at him as I felt his nose brush against mine. He’d closed his eyes; his brow was wrinkled in that sweet way it always got when he was thinking something through. “Wait,” I managed. Pike’s eyes opened and he leaned away to get a better look at me. “What’s wrong?” He murmured. “Is… Is this the tea, or is it me?” I winced as I asked it, damning my need for reassurance, but I had to know. I couldn’t just string my hopes along any more only to wind up back in my quarters later, reconsidering a transfer to the Hiawatha. Pike’s brow furrowed again as he looked over my face. “Oh,” He dipped his head back down as he seemed to realize something, raising a hand and cupping my cheek gently, “You have no idea what you do to me.” For a moment, we were waiting one another out just as we had waited for the first punch in the gym. I couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind, but I was grappling with indecision. Everything in me was alight with how close we were, how gently he was touching me; I could just imagine the unimpressed little frown Una would fix me with; Spock’s raised brow and his mutter of, “Fascinating.”; my ears were ringing with what Pike had just uttered, its sincerity; his gaze was drifting to my lips, his tongue was darting out to wet his own-- I surged up, pressing my lips to his, warm and chaste. I immediately started to panic, because -- Koutovian tea or not, I was kissing my Captain. But before I could lean all the way away, apologize profusely and turn tail, Pike’s other hand lifted from the wall, snaking around my back and drawing me even closer into his chest. Reassured that he wanted this, that I could touch, I raised a hand to cup the back of his neck. Pike hummed, tipping his head to the side and sliding his lips sweetly over mine. My stomach gave a triumphant little flip. Pike liked this. Pike liked this, and he liked me. I rested my other hand hesitantly on Pike’s shoulder, curling my fingers possessively in the fabric. Pike rested his forehead back against mine as our lips parted; I couldn’t help my leaning up to chase another peck or two. He chuckled softly, and I felt the sound shoot right down to my toes. “That answer your question?” I pretended to consider for a moment. “I may need further clarification, Captain,” I said, opening my eyes. He grinned down at me. “I’d be happy to assist, lieutenant,” He murmured. Tag list: @angels-pie​​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​ ​

[inviouswriting]

venting

Seems there is a plague of rudeness going around for me and fellow creators.

So let me go into it.

Why you should be nice and kind to the people who are providing a free service. You know all those wonderful stories and headcanons you enjoy?

They take time, our time we don’t get back. We pour our hearts out into what we make, what we think of, and then we have to do this unique thing that no one thinks about. We have to protect that. We have to keep it ours, we have to keep ideas from overlapping with each other, ripping off others ideas (accidentally) potentially, others maybe stealing our work and spreading it to their dumbass wattpad accounts for others.

My name is actually well known in different fanbases. I’ve never changed the way I do things, I keep that “I write what I want” motto full tilt. 

I create because “I” want to read stories that no one thinks of. Or hasn’t done yet, I want to provide other creators the chance to get inspired for their own ideas or whatever they feel like doing.

I also want to project out there, that it is damn okay to stand your ground and put people in their places. Someone being a shit in your inbox? ignore the fuck out of them. Minors treading where they shouldn’t? Block and remind the rest “I block them, I don’t hold wiggle room.” 

I hate rudeness and impoliteness above ANYTHING else. Seriously does not hurt any of you to be nice when asking me. Say thank you and say please.

I have had my written works stolen by people, I have seen them on wattpad and I went after the users who did it. For the longest time on my creative blogs security features that prevented people from saving, or ripping my works from said blogs. I had intentionally made it to where no one could save my works even if they were reblogged. That’s how good it was.

There are alot of posts about how creators are leaving the site to go to pages like Patreon or twitter’s privatter and poipiku because they have high anti-theft things.

I had a minor once print out my written works to show their LA teacher. I hounded that one till they burned and showed me the ashes of my work.

I am a certain way on purpose, because I don’t want people to feel like they can walk over my preferences nor will I allow them any footholds in my domains. You come into my blog, you accept my rules, you accept everything I have warned and written down to protect my content. 

I am “strict” not a bitch. I have intense boundaries, I like it when people are nice, they comment things, they interact with this blog. But I do have hard limitations regarding who can and are allowed to do things.

I don’t allow minors, I hate drama. But damn well guarantee if someone is coming into my zones, or going after fellow blogs who create I am going to go off about it.

If you are rude, if you are mocking other writers/creators for their strictness, asking for interactions, asking to be treated like a damn human being. Then fuck off from my blogs. 

The content you consume for free, could easily be put behind paywalls. Nothing for free, our hard work could be purchased instead of being provided for free and fun. 

Y’all ever wonder how many hours I spend into my LONG works? you know the ones that are well detailed? the ones that look like they take alot of time to work on?

They take anywhere from 4 to 10 or 24 hours to days to write. When I go out I go all out and I have one friend who I talk to alot who has heard me stay up till 2 or 3 am just to finish one piece of work that I started at 7 am the previous day.

Writing to me is the one freeing hobby I have. I do it because I love to write. I don’t want to think of moving all my works to another location where not only are they better protected, but get virtually no traffic unless you know where to look for them. I want them noticed, I want people to enjoy my work. 

The same thing can be said about every single creator on this site. Their art, their voice works, music, animations, their written pieces. They don’t magically appear out of no where. They take hours of our time we could easily be doing something else. We could easily stop giving you these reader contents. Hell I have oc’s I could pair these guys with. Y’all would get bored of that, because who wants to read someone else’s character having fun in place of yourself? I have self insert ideas I could come up with.

My creations are endless, and I could start today and start generating my own content.

See the weight of all this? Every creator has this ability, but we want to be kind and supply y’all with something as well. 

Second hand perspective does get boring to write after a while. So don’t shame the people who want... a little piece for themselves. One person can set someone off to do exclusive work, private their works, change locations, and delete everything you have loved and disappear without a single trace. I’ve seen it happen to fellow creators, I’ve done it too.

I deleted every single written piece of work for Undertale. I detest that fanbase so much that I removed and deleted everything I had ever MADE besides one art piece on my DA I colored. Only because the artist loved my coloring.

I hope my fellow creators can have this same backbone to these rude af people coming in to upset them because they think their comment carries anything. Keep on creating, and if it works. Generate for yourself. You have more fun without worrying over the views, likes, reblogs. Creating for yourself should be fun. 

So be kind to your creators and writers. We can easily make money off our stuff. Hell I know my writing can easily fetch around 20 - 50 for my short stories for the 8k - 10k word lengths I can generate.

But I hate making money off a hobby. So do you wish to see more work? or silence?

Invidia1988~

[marveloussupernerd]

Miss Trustfund Kid - Zen x Han!MC

Be Nice... Or Else (3)

ITS BACK!!! Ty my patient babies for waiting and loving it :)

Reblogs / comments / asks encourage authors SM so if you have the time & like it pls let me know!

Masterlist | Previous

“What in God’s name are you doing to my sister?”

Your head snapped away from Zen’s, lips disconnecting as you turned to face your brother, standing in the doorway, hands crossed in front of him.

“Jumin!” You squeaked. “What a pleasant surprise. We, uh, got the contract figured out.” Maybe if you tried to act like nothing had happened, he would go along with it.

Nah. This was Jumin. His eyes were still trained on Zen, glaring at the man who had just been all over you.

Zen sighed, straightening his stance. “Why does it matter to you? God, you’re so annoying!”

“That’s my sister. Of course it matters to me.”

You sat back in your seat, leaning back slightly. “Jumin, can’t you just trust me on this one? For once?”

He pouted. It wasn’t normal to see such an esteemed businessman acting so childish. “Out of everyone... it had to be him? Why him?”

“You say that about everyone I like,” you countered. It was true. None of your boyfriends had ever met his approval.

Jumin’s eyes softened, just for a moment. “I just... don’t want you to turn out like dad.” He pointed towards Zen. “He may be handsome and smooth, but so is every other guy you fall for. And you always end out getting your heart broken and making a mess.”

“Hey, that’s none of your business. She can do what she wants,” Zen defended you, stepping between you and Jumin.

“You don’t belong in this conversation.” Jumin commented, bypassing Zen to walk closer to you so he could face you once again.

“Jumin,” you reached out and grabbed his arm. “Can’t you trust me? Just this one time?” You raised your eyebrows at him. I think I really like him, you were trying to say.

His frown deepened. “Sure.” He turned to Zen. “If you hurt her, I’ll sell one of your organs.”

“What!? Dude, you can’t make jokes like that.”

“Who said I was joking?” He glanced back at you. “What organ do you think we should take?”

A small smile graced your face. He was kidding, of course, but seeing how unnerved Zen was getting was funny. “Kidney. You can survive with only one,” you decided.

“Hey!”

Jumin shrugged. “You heard her. You better make sure you don’t drink too much. You need your kidneys in good health if you have to get rid of one.” He began to walk to the door. “Anyways, good night both of you.”

“Good... night?” Zen asked as the door shut firmly.

You burst out into laughter. You couldn’t help yourself. They weren’t kidding when they said they couldn’t get along.

“Not funny,” Zen fake pouted to you. “He’s never gonna let me see you.”

“He will,” you took a step closer to him, noses almost touching, “as long as you’re good.”

“I am...” he took a step back, “not good. Awful at self control really. All men are wolves, even me!”

“What does that even mean?” You giggled, taken aback by how concerned his expression was.

“When worst comes to worst, men can’t control their primal instincts. You should never trust a man!”

“You and Jumin sometimes do sound alike.”

“Hey!” He crossed his arms against his chest. “Not what I wanted to hear.”

You raised an eyebrow. But it’s true.

“Anyways, about that contract. I want to add a stipulation,” Zen said, awkwardly rubbing his arm and looking at the table.

“And what would that be? I thought you agreed with everything.”

Zen smirked, gaining back his suave attitude. “I want to take you on a real date. If it’s in the contract Jumin can’t say no.”

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head in fake disapproval. “I like the way you think, Zen. But you better be paying.”

“I’m not the one rolling in money,” he teased.

“Again, college student. Not the oldest son. Not rolling in money like Jumin. It’s not like I get to live in the penthouse.”

Zen fake-frowned. “Oh no, you have to live on the second highest floor of the building. I’m so sorry.”

You pushed him away lightly, rolling your eyes. “I actually don’t live in a C&R building. Really trying to be my own individual here.”

“Maybe I’ll have to check out your place sometime.”

You gasped dramatically. “But Zen, I could never let you in! All men are wolves!”

He paused, a small smile on his face. “You’re much wittier than your brother.” He started to head to the door. “I should get going home; do you need a ride or anything?”

“I’m good! I drove here.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, I’ll text you about that date.”

“Okay, good. Gotta get that contract fulfilled.”

He grinned. “Oh, absolutely, for the contract.”

You stood on your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, whispering a good night to him before watching him leave the room, head turning back to glance at you when he thought you could no longer see him.

How were you already whipped?

Notes:

Zen googled how much kidneys cost that night

He also texted you that night to plan your date bc he is a simp (if y’all want those texts I am a smau expert and I’ll throw them in the next chapter)

Jumin called you at 1 am bc he was pacing thinking about your relationship with Zen

Taglist: @imatalossforwords @m4r-s @pinklawyer @loveliestmolly if your name is crossed out I can’t tag you! Lmk if you want to be tagged :)

[snelbz]

Lovely {6}

@tacmc​ x @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ collaboration

A/N: Hello, you beautiful people. That’s right, it’s back. We love to see y’all’s reactions to our stories so please reblog and comment and let us know what you think! Enjoy!

FIND PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HERE

SHELBY’S ASK BOX // SHELBY’S MASTERLIST

TARA’S ASK BOX // TARA’S MASTERLIST

Azriel opened his eyes, enjoying the comfort of his bed. He assumed it was fairly early, considering only the faintest stream of sunlight had peeked through the curtains, and Asher wasn’t crying to be released from the confines of his crib yet. Until then, he would lay and relax.

There was a shift on the other side of the mattress and Azriel cursed himself, silently, for waking her; but, when he rolled onto his side, Elain was still fast asleep.

Her hair had come undone at some point in the night, and the brown curls were sprawled out across Azriel’s dark gray sheets. Her plump, pink lips were parted, her breathing even. His comforter laid just below her breasts, and it took a hefty amount of self control not to reach out and brush his fingers over her peeked nipples.

The night before had been incredible. They’d made love twice, and every other second was spent in drunk kisses and soft giggles. He took his time exploring her, and she with him, and he’d never experienced anything so wondrous and enthralling.

He was falling in love with her, and the thought was terrifying. It was one thing to like someone, to even like them a lot, but now he was falling, head over heels, at full speed. He had never fallen in love before, not like this.

He came with way more baggage than most men his age, and that was just the messy custody battle with Ianthe. He was dreading the conversation they’d have when she asked about his parents.

Draeven was not his father’s last name. No, he’d taken his mother’s maiden name as his own when the bastard was officially sentenced to prison. His name had never been formally released, always redacted in every story and news segment, so very few knew the truth, the notoriety of his childhood. He didn’t want to see the look of pity in her eyes when she found out.

He rolled over, pressing soft kisses to Elain’s shoulder, and just as she was starting to stir-.

A cry came from the baby monitor.

“Thanks, little dude,” Azriel groaned quietly as he pulled his discarded boxer-briefs on from the night before and hurried across the hall. Asher was sitting up in his crib, eyes wide as he gazed around the room. “Good morning,” he cooed, lifting his son from his crib and carrying him to the changing table. “We have a guest this morning, so we can’t be screaming this early, yeah?” Asher just chewed on the pacifier Azriel had popped in his mouth and stared up at his father while he put a fresh diaper on him. Azriel pressed a kiss to his belly and said, “Glad we’re on the same page.”

A cute onesie was a necessity and after getting Asher as adorable as possible, Azriel carried him back to his bedroom. Where he found the bed empty.

He glanced towards the bathroom, seeing the light was off and it was empty. Then he heard a noise from down in the kitchen. He crept down the stairs and found Elain in front of his coffee maker, his shirt skimming her thigh. He could tell she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it.

On quiet feet, Azriel stepped up behind her and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Good morning, beautiful.”

She jumped as she spun around, and for a second Azriel thought that she might curse him for scaring her, but her eyes were on Asher’s. She took the giggling baby into her arms and said, in a perfect, high-pitched voice, “Good morning.”

Asher clapped his hands together, his toothless grin wide as Elain set him in his highchair. Azriel was already mixing his cereal together, which was a good thing, because Asher was obviously hangry. His angry little voice filled the air as he banged on his highchair tray.

“I know, I’m coming,” Azriel promised, grabbing a little spoon from the drawer and pulling a chair up in front of the highchair. After putting a bib around Asher’s neck, he was chowing down.

Before he could even ask, Elain had set a cup of coffee down in front of him. Azriel smiled as he put Asher’s spoon up to his little lips. Most of the cereal trailed down his chin.

“Thank you,” Azriel said, looking at Elain, who had sat on the opposite side of the table. “It’s going to be a coffee day. Someone kept me up all night.”

Her cheeks turned pink as she sipped from her mug. “Pretty sure it was the other way around.”

Azriel’s grin widened. “Fair enough, I’ll take the blame.”

Elain sucked in her bottom lip, and Azriel was just about to say something when Asher blew a raspberry and Azriel got splattered with cereal, all over his face and his chest.

He slowly set down the bowl and the spoon before looking at his giggling infant and saying, “Thank you. Thank you, so much.”

Elain’s hands were covering her mouth as she laughed. “Go clean yourself, I’ll take over.”

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh at Asher’s joy, and as he stood up, he kissed Elain, softly, before she took her place in his chair and started to feed Asher.

Azriel had only just made it to the sink when there was a knock on the door. He blinked, then looked to the clock above the stove. It was only just after seven.

He wiped off his face, but when the knock came again, he was hurrying toward the door. After pulling on a pair of sweatpants that were hanging over the back of the couch, Azriel opened the door, and stilled.

Ianthe was there, in her jogging attire - which didn’t amount to much. When she saw Azriel, bare-chested and hair still a mess, a wide, feline grin spread across her lips. “Well, good morning, baby daddy.”

He gaped and finally said, “What are- Ianthe, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my baby. Where is he?” She tried to peek around him into the house, but he angled the door where only his entryway could be seen.

“It’s seven in the morning. On a Saturday.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, becoming a veritable wall blocking her view.

“Well, we have plans this morning and I have to get him ready,” she said, taking another step up his porch stairs.

Before he could say anything, Asher’s happy giggle could be heard echoing through the house. And then Elain’s voice was floating towards him. “That’s not very nice, Asher. You can’t spit your breakfast on daddy and on me. No, you can’t. No, sir.”

Azriel had tensed and when he turned back to Ianthe, she had an eyebrow raised and her eyes were like ice. “Who’s that, daddy?”

“None of your concern,” Azriel said back, his voice calm. “And I have him until tonight. I’ll drop him off at six, like we agreed on.”

“Plans changed,” she snapped. “Now get my baby away from the whore or I’ll go in there and grab him myself.”

Azriel’s jaw locked as he stepped out onto the porch and shut the door quietly behind him. “Watch your tongue.”

“Or what?” she asked, intrigued. “What will you do, Az? As of right now, you have to do what I say, legally, and I’m telling you to get your pretty little ass inside, grab my son, and bring him to me so we’re not late.”

Azriel didn’t move.

Ianthe took a step toward him. “Or it’ll be awhile before I let you have him again. Understand?”

Azriel crossed his arms. “I don’t like threats.”

“Too bad,” she said. “I have the power, and you’ve already pissed me off by letting my son around that skank. As you’ve said, it’s seven on a Saturday morning. Now, why would a woman be in your kitchen so early?”

“Oh, fuck off. How many men have you been with this week alone, Ianthe?” The words came out of his mouth before he could think better of it. He pressed on before she could bite back. “Nothing in our agreement stipulated that I wasn’t allowed to be in a relationship.”

“Consider it added now,” she said, a wicked smile on her face, pulling her phone from her leggings, the gods knew where there was room. She typed out a quick text message and Azriel stared at her, in absolute shock.

He breathed, “You vindictive bitch.”

She smiled up at him again and was about to say something else that was meant to wound him, but he gripped her wrist with far too much gentleness considering the conversation, and turned it over.

Because that crazed look in her eye, it wasn’t only delight at fucking him over once again. There was a reason she was so chipper at seven on a Saturday morning.

The words were deathly soft. “Are you using again?”

Her arm was jerked from his grip before he could react. “Get your hands off of me. That’s none of your fucking concern.”

Azriel chuckled, humorlessly, as he shook his head. “You’re not taking him. You’re on a high, and you’re not taking him.”

“Don’t fu-.”

“You didn’t even drive here,” Azriel began, exasperated, his hands shaking from the pure anger radiating throughout his body. He looked behind her to find the street nearly empty, her car nowhere in sight. “What was your plan? Jog him on your hip back to your parents house? Fuck, Ianthe-.”

“Give me Asher.”

“No,” Azriel said, firmly. “I’ll drop him off, at your parents, at six tonight, so that I know he’s safe. And that was our agreement.” He’d have a talk with them, too, Ianthe’s parents.

Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Asher go with Ianthe. Not if she was back on drugs, not again. He would fight it, and if he lost his parenting rights in the process…

No, he wouldn’t let himself think that way, wouldn’t let his mind wander to the horrid, unfair possibilities. The world couldn’t be that cruel.

Then again. As a child, himself, the world was that cruel.

Ianthe hadn’t said another word. She stared at Azriel, venom igniting those teal eyes.

“Go home, Ianthe,” Azriel warned.

There was a small list of things he had expected her to do in response, but spitting in his face wasn’t one of them. His body tensed as her saliva smacked him in the face, right between his eyes. But then she was walking back down the porch steps, all while saying, “You made a big mistake, Azriel.”

He didn’t move, not until she was down the street, jogging around the corner.

Azriel stepped back into the house, heading straight for the kitchen sink. He took a paper towel off of the holder and wiped Ianthe’s spit off of his face. When he turned around, he froze.

Elain was sitting in the same chair, still in his t-shirt, and Asher was asleep in her arms. She was watching Azriel, though, her eyes full of concern.

All he said was, “Did you give him his bottle?”

She nodded. “Burped him, too.”

His smile was tired, but he said, “Thank you.” He sighed and let his head fall. “Elain, there’s something I have to do today, but I don’t think I can do it alone.” He swallowed hard. He’d never once taken anyone with him to meet with Helion, nor had he ever wanted to. But today, he needed someone there to steady him, to keep him grounded.

Because he’d never been so angry in his entire life. He’d seen red and couldn’t allow himself to do so, but the fact that Ianthe had actually intended to take their child while she was…

Elain stood, cradling his son as if he were the most precious gift, and walked to him. She took his hand in her free one. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

___

Rhysand had given Feyre a cup of coffee, but she couldn’t drink it. All she could think about was Tamlin, still lying on her couch. All through the night, it was all she could think about. No, she and Rhys hadn’t had sex, and every time they got a little too hot and heavy, she pushed him away and looked toward the doorway of her bedroom, thinking that Tamlin would be standing right there.

But he hadn’t moved, all night, and now that morning had come, she wanted him out of her fucking house.

“Do you want me to wake him up?” Rhysand asked, for the tenth time since they’d rolled out of her bed.

Feyre didn’t answer. She had told Rhys no so far, thinking that if Rhysand was to wake him up, there would be an instant fist fight, and that was no way to start a Saturday morning. So, instead, although she was unsure how it was any better, Feyre went to the cabinet by the sink and opened it up, retrieving a glass. After filling it up with water, she walked to the back of the couch and dumped it on Tamlin’s face.

With a shuddering gasp, Tamlin was sitting up and looking around. “What the fuck?”

“Time to go,” Feyre said, setting the glass down on the side table, with a little more force than necessary. He flinched at the sound, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about it.

He groaned as he leaned forward, water dripping from his hair.

She sighed and said, “Come on, Tam, I’m serious. I need you to leave.”

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say a word. He just stood and turned to leave, but when his eyes fell on Rhysand, he froze. “You always have to win.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes, but he remained silent. Feyre stared at the floor as she listened to his heavy footsteps walk through the foyer, and out the front door.

For a moment, the small townhouse remained silent, but then Feyre looked up to meet his gaze. “What did he mean by that?”

“I don’t know, Feyre-.”

“Bullshit!” she yelled, exasperated. She was annoyed, angry, and sleep-deprived. She didn’t have the time or patience to be dancing around the subject any longer. “I have to know what happened between you two, Rhys. I like you, I really do, a lot, but I can’t deal with secrets, not anymore.”

His lips snapped shut, and for a moment, she thought that he would tell her he didn’t want to, that he wasn’t in the mood, yet again, but then he sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Fine.”

As if she wasn’t expecting it, which she truly wasn’t, her body stilled. Then, before he could change his mind, she was slowly sitting in the chair next to him at the kitchen table. She didn’t push him, didn’t rush him, only sat perfectly still, her anger turning into nerves. The possibilities of what he was about to say had her stomach churning.

He took a deep breath and said, “I’ve known Tamlin pretty much my whole life. We went to the same elementary school, played on the same teams, and we were… we used to be friends.”

Shit. Feyre had known there was history, but she didn’t know it went that far back.

Rhys continued, “I don’t exactly remember when we had our falling out, but Tamlin’s dad was always pushing to be better, by using me as an example. He’d talk to my dad at work, find out how I was doing in my classes, and then he’d go home and berate Tam about how much better of a son I was.”

Tam. The familiarity of the nickname made Feyre’s heart hurt.

“In short, somewhere in middle school, he started to hate me, and I understood it,” Rhysand continued, shrugging. “His dad was an asshole, and he had to have someone else to blame it on. Considering I was a part of the equation, it made sense that it was me.”

There was something sad, something regretful in Rhysand’s eye, but Feyre didn’t question it. She remained quiet, and she listened.

“Anyway, middle school went by and then high school began,” Rhysand went on, staring at his intertwined hands. “We didn’t talk much, only when we had to. We’d drifted into our own groups of friends, found our own places where we belonged, even though we still played on all the same sport teams yet. Anyway, that’s just kind of how it was between us, at least for a while. Things were tense, but they were never bad, you know?” He didn’t wait for Feyre to answer before he went on. At this point, it was like he was talking mostly to himself. “Our junior year, my parents were out one night, coming home with my little sister from a dance recital. They got in an accident, and none of them made it out alive. My parents died instantly, having gotten hit head on. And my sister, who was only thirteen at the time, was in a coma for two days before they made me make the decision to pull her off of life support.”

His voice had become a deadly quiet, and Feyre couldn’t breathe. Rhysand wasn’t looking at her, he was still staring at his hands. His eyes had lined with silver, those tears nearly about to fall, but he only cleared his throat.

“It, uh,” he started, then shook his head, sending those tears that had held themselves in down his tanned cheeks. “It was Tamlin’s dad that had hit them. He was drunk, behind the wheel, and swerved in his lane, going way too fast, hitting my parents and my sister.”

Every thought in Feyre’s mind faded away. She had never met Tamlin’s dad, and Tamlin wouldn’t talk about it, only told her that his dad was gone. She didn’t understand, not yet, but as Rhysand went on, all the pieces came together.

“He hated me after that, blamed the fact that his dad was in prison for life on me,” Rhysand said, a humorless laugh loud in the quiet of the townhouse. “And I hated him for that. I hated him for blaming that shit on me, just because he needed someone to blame it on.”

Feyre stood, rounding her table and taking his hands in hers. She knelt in front of him.

“Rhys, I’m so sorry.”

He smiled at her, it was sad, but it was a smile nonetheless. “You have nothing to apologize for. You had every right to ask, I just… It’s a part of my life that’s still painful to open up. I’m glad Rayn doesn’t remember any of it, but that doesn’t mean we don’t miss our parents everyday.”

Feyre’s phone rang from the kitchen counter, and she glanced at it, but Rhysand said, “Go ahead, baby.”

She hurried to catch her phone before it was sent to voicemail, but when she saw her father’s name on the screen, she hesitated.

With a sigh, she answered, “Hello?”

“Feyre? Hi.” Isaac sounded far too cheery for such an hour. “Busy today?”

Feyre looked over at Rhysand, who was watching her with furrowed brows. “I’m...not sure. What’s up?”

“I was going to meet your sister for lunch. Was wondering if you’d like to join us?”

Feyre blinked. “Which sister?”

Isaac laughed quietly into the phone. “Nesta. Elain says she’s busy.”

Of course, I’d be the last one you call.

“I don’t know, dad, I-.”

“Come on,” Isaac begged, and the sincerity in his voice was overwhelming. “I haven’t seen you since I’ve been back in town. Hell, I haven't seen you in six months. It’s just lunch. To catch up.”

Feyre leaned back against the counter, nibbling on her bottom lip as Rhysand continued to watch her, intently.

“Okay,” Feyre breathed. “Fine. What time?”

“Nesta told me she’d be at the diner at noon, will that work for you?”

She nodded, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t see her. “Sure, dad, I’ll see you then.”

Isaac sighed, “Thank you, Feyre, dear.”

She cringed. She hated it when he called her Feyre, dear. It felt so...formal. “You’re welcome, bye.”

As soon as she hung up, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the cabinets, which gently banged with a soft thud! Feyre groaned. The last thing she wanted to do, especially after a night of little to no sleep, was go sit through a forty five minute cold shoulder contest between her father and eldest sister.

But then she smelled jasmine and nightshade and citrus, and she felt fingers skimming up the outside of her thigh. Rhys breathed, right by her ear, “Don’t tell me I took the day off of work for no reason.”

Feyre tilted her head down until her eyes met his. He lifted her up onto the counter, stepping in the space in between her legs. She let her arms drape around his neck and said, “I’m afraid so. I have to meet my dad and sister for lunch.”

“What time?” He asked, leaning down and pressing kisses to her jaw.

His fingers dug into her bare thigh, her shorts having ridden up. She said, “I’m meeting them at noon.”

He glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the microwave. “We’ve got about five hours, don’t we?”

Feyre groaned. “It’s that early? Why aren’t we in bed?”

Rhysand leaned back and met her gaze. “Are you inviting me back to bed?”

Feyre grinned, tilting her head as she pretended to think on it. “If you carry me there.”

Rhysand didn’t have to be told twice. He lifted her off the counter and slowly carried her up the stairs, his lips never parting from her skin. Feyre closed her eyes and dwelled in his touch, in the way the touch of his lips set her on fire.

Rhysand carried her back into her bedroom, where they’d spent their night tangled in each other’s arms, and dropped her on her mattress.

They kissed for a little while, but due to her night full of worry and anger, Rhysand didn’t pressure her for anything at all. Instead, he pulled her back into his arms and rubbed her back until she fell soundly, peacefully asleep.

_____

Lunch had been horrible, just as Nesta had expected it to be. Nothing too eventful happened, but it was horribly awkward. She got a free meal out of it, she supposed, so that was a plus; but, she was grateful that it would be another six months before her father asked her out to lunch again.

There had always been that pattern.

Nonetheless, it was over and done with and the day was still fairly young, which meant she got to spend it at Cassian’s.

His apartment was on the other side of town from the diner she had met her dad at, and by the time she had gotten there through the busy city, she had nearly lost her mind. She hoped Cassian had wine, and that he didn’t judge her too much for starting to drink so early in the day.

He’d given her a key, just in case he was asleep when she arrived back, as he’d claimed that the previous nights’ activities had completely exhausted him. He’d even said that without a nap, he’d have no energy to please his girlfriend all night again. She’d rolled her eyes and kissed him goodbye, before smacking him in the face with the pillow she’d been sleeping on.

True to his word, when Nesta called Cassian when she was about five minutes away, he hadn’t answered. She laughed quietly, debating on the ways she could wake him up. She parked and let herself into his apartment, careful not to let the door slam. But Cassian wasn’t sleeping.

A gentle melody floated through the apartment from down the hall. Nesta froze in the doorway as the music grew louder, and slipped off her shoes and put down her purse before quietly tip-toeing down the hall. He was in his office, across from his bedroom, facing the wall where a small, wooden piano sat. It was old, but finely tuned. He said it had belonged to his grandmother who was a music teacher for young students back in the day.

He constantly thought about getting a new one, but he’d always said there was something about the piano that made him love to play even more.

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew by the way his head was tossed back that his eyes were closed. He wore sweatpants and an old t-shirt, his hair tied up at the back of his head. He obviously hadn’t heard her come in, and she didn’t want to ruin the moment she’d caught him in.

As his fingers danced gracefully across the keys, Nesta leaned against the doorway and watched.

She closed her eyes, listening as the melody flowed around her. It made her heart want to dance, when so many things these days didn’t. Her soul felt like it could breathe and as she listened, she imagined the dance she would craft to his songs, the stories they could tell together.

Nesta hadn’t realized she was crying until she sniffled quietly and Cassian’s hands slowed and stopped on the ivory keys.

He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see her standing there, and hesitated when he saw she was crying. “What’s wrong? How long have you been standing there?”

He was up on his feet and walking toward her when she answered, “Long enough to get emotional, apparently. You play beautifully.”

His eyes softened as his arms wrapped around her and he kissed her, softly. “You used the key.”

She nodded, her forehead falling into his chest.

He was quiet for a moment before he said, “You should keep it.”

Nesta kept her head pressed into his chest as she stilled and said, “It’s… Cass, are you sure? You don’t think it’s too soon?”

He shrugged and she finally looked up at him. “I want to spend as much time with you as possible. If that means giving you a key so you can come see me, so be it.”

Nesta could feel her walls rising, could feel every instinct she had telling her to run, that it was too soon, that she couldn’t get attached. But regardless of all of that, regardless of the pit in her stomach, she nodded and said, “Okay.”

He could tense the tension in her body as he ran her hands down her arms. “You don’t have to always use it,” he followed. “Just when I’m lost in my music, or sleeping.” She chuckled and then he added, “Or, you know, when you miss me.”

She pushed back from his chest and lifted a brow. “And what makes you think that I ever miss you?”

He pulled her back toward him by her waist as he grinned. “Oh, you miss me. Judging by all the noises you were making last night-.”

She pushed him in the chest, trying to suppress her laughter as she did so.

[altairtalisman]

I posted 829 times in 2021

650 posts created (78%)

179 posts reblogged (22%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.3 posts.

I added 1,322 tags in 2021

#fire’s blazing - 274 posts

#altair draws - 197 posts

#fire's blazing - 177 posts

#six the musical - 144 posts

#not my art - 123 posts

#six oc - 106 posts

#sixtended verse - 104 posts

#art trade - 79 posts

#jane parker - 74 posts

#7kpp - 44 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#in case some of you were wondering why i haven’t posted a single damn thing between 28 november-8 december… yeah i was locked out of tumblr

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

What do the queens think of a particular queen (Anna)

Anna: Okay fuckers, what do y’all think of me?

Anne: That’s not a nice way to butter us up.

Katherine: Oh please, you have no problems calling us that last week!

Catalina: Well Anna, I think you’re the most responsible member of the chaotic trio.

Anne: Hey! I take offence to that!

Jane: Anna, you’re a lovely person and a delight to be around!

Catherine: More so than my godmother?

Catalina: I think it’s obvious that I’m in a category of my own, you know, girlfriend privileges and all.

Katherine: You give out nice hugs! And you’re a real sweetheart!

Anne: You’re handy when we need to dump tanks of water onto someone.

Catherine: Dare I ask who’s the victim?

Catalina: Thanks for that wake-up call earlier Anne.

Anne: No prob, what about you Cathy?

Catherine: *Shrugs* I don’t know, she’s pretty?

Anne: ... But like, I’m the prettiest because of girlfriend privileges or whatever shit Catalina said right?

Anna: Wait, you think I'm pretty?

Katherine: What the heck Anna, I tell you that all the time!

Anna: Yeah, but only you tell me that! No one else has ever said that to me before!

Jane: That’s... really sad Anna. 

Catherine: Look, just because you eat like a horse doesn’t mean you look like one.

Catherine: I mean, sure you’re not as pretty as us but you’re still pretty!

Anna: You’re so lucky that I’m not doing a live-recording like what Jane did two weeks ago.

56 notes • Posted 2021-01-23 22:20:48 GMT

#4

You know how @p4ntry-d3m0n does all of those lovely appreciation hours posts? I was thinking, she also deserves all of the appreciation!

Here are some of the reasons why:

- Randomly drops by for a chat on your blog when you least expects it

- Is a talented writer and artist

- Very fun and chaotic to watch, to the extent that I suspect that she’s 50% entertaining us, 50% she needs help

- Gives helpful advice to others, be it to a friend or to an anon

- Extremely kind-hearted and sees the best in us even though we personally think otherwise

- Always responds to others despite being sleep-deprived, which isn’t really a good thing because someone needs to fucking sleep

- Is there to listen to us when we just need a listening ear, and offers reassurances

- Creating a Google Docs containing all of the previous nightly reminders sent to people in the past so that anyone can look through to remember that they’re appreciated

So yeah, this list isn’t exhaustive, just that there are others who are in a better position to show D3m0n how much she’s appreciated.

57 notes • Posted 2021-06-21 20:30:35 GMT

#3

What do the queens think of a particular queen (Catherine)

Catherine: Okay, what do you ladies think of me?

Catalina: Knowledgeable. 

Anne: The love of my life and also my impulse control.

Jane: You always help us to the best of your ability despite us bothering you!

Anna: Kinda ugly with your dark circles but you’re our lovable nerd.

Katherine: A great book club buddy who makes really good coffee!

Catherine:

Catherine: This went way better than I thought and I don’t like it.

Anne: Babe, what’s wrong? What do you mean by that?

Catherine: The previous five Q&As was a shitshow, with the most recent one ending with us reminding a certain queen that she isn’t a slut.

Katherine: Hi, I’m that certain queen.

Anna: I mean... it just means that we really really value you enough to not fuck things up for you?

Jane: Or because you’re boring and as such we don’t have to fight for attention with our viewers?

Anne: *Gasps* JANE SEYMOUR YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Jane: I mean, it’s sort of true??

Anne: HEY OLD HAG, CONTROL YOUR GIRLFRIEND!

Catalina: Jane’s her own person, I’m not going to dictate what she should and shouldn’t say.

Catalina: But uh, maybe don’t be so harsh towards my goddaughter?

Katherine: Cathy said that she wants her Q&A to be more interesting right? Why not we chuck books at her?

Anna: Oh I’m so down for that!

Catherine: Wait no, this isn’t what I meant!

Catherine: Also, don’t you damage those books! They’re expensive!

Jane: Why is that your prioritiy?!

61 notes • Posted 2021-02-06 22:20:49 GMT

#2

What do the queens think of a particular queen (Katherine)

Katherine: Guys! It’s my turn!

Anne: To clean the bathroom? Thank god you remembered!

Katherine: Fuck no, I meant the Q&A thing.

Catalina: What Q&A thing?

Katherine: You know, the question asking us what do we think about one of us?

Jane: I remember that! All of you forgot about me!

Anna: We did apologise afterwards...

Anne: Pfft, not me. I didn’t apologise shit.

Catherine: Can we please just do this for Katherine and not start another fight?

Katherine: Thank you Cathy! Take it away ladies! *Holds up smartphone*

Catalina: Well... I think you have a kind heart, and despite you experiencing the most trauma, you bravely confront them head-on.

Anne: You’re like, chaos on heelies but... the cool kind.

Jane: Um... Lina took my answer so can I get a pass?

Anna: You’re a wonderful girlfriend that I don’t deserve, and you always make our day even though we don’t even deserve you.

Katherine: Wait, are you breaking up with me?!

Anna: Nein! How-?!

Katherine: Oh my god, this is exactly like that film Anne forced me to watch last week!

Catherine: ... Babe, why didn’t you tell me that you’re a secret sucker for romance films?

Anne: Because I didn’t want you to judge me! Plus it’ll ruin my rep as the hottest shit around.

Catalina: If by ‘hottest shit’, you mean your capability of landing yourself in trouble five minutes after you wake up, then yes, you’re the hottest shit.

Katherine: Okay while all of you discuss about how my cousin’s barely existent rep is tarnished, I’m gonna add my own opinion towards myself!

Katherine: *Turning the phone on her* I think I’m a slut who doesn’t deserve the rest and that I should own up to my mistakes for seducing men in my past life because I should’ve known better!

Everyone else: HOLY- WE’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS!!!

63 notes • Posted 2021-01-30 22:20:51 GMT

#1

What do the queens think of a particular queen (Jane)

Jane: They asked about me this time! *Starts a live recording*

Anne: What, about why you still can’t dance?

Jane: I-I’ve been practicing!

Jane: And no, the person who asked about you and Lina wanted to know how do all of you view me!

Anne: Ohhhhhh yeah still doesn’t change the fact that you can’t dance.

Catalina: Leave her alone Anne. Anyways, I think you’re a wonderful person.

Jane: Really?

Catherine: And you’re not saying this because you’re dating her?

Katherine: We all know that you’re very biased towards Jane!

Catalina: All of you can’t deny that she’s a very patient woman!

Anna: In bed or...?

AnneKatParr: *Snickers*

Jane: *Blushes*

Catalina: She’s been putting up with all your shit! Who stays up all night because she wanted to watch ‘just one more cat video’?!

Anna: DON’T SHAME ME FOR WANTING TO SEE MORE CATS!

Anne: YEAH, CATS ARE JUST AS COOL AS DOGS!

Katherine: YOU TWO ARE TRAITORS!

Catherine: STOP ARGUING, THEY’RE BOTH HARD TO CARE FOR!

Catalina: SAYS THE PERSON WHO HAS MADE PLANS TO ADOPT A CAT IN HER BUCKET LIST!

Everyone but Jane: *Starts arguing about cats and dogs*

Jane: Since they're now arguing over pets, I'm being forgotten... again.

Jane: Thanks for asking!

80 notes • Posted 2021-01-16 22:20:46 GMT

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