#and yes i did include peache here

[southernbluebellereader]

Peach Pie and Cream

Jack Reacher x F! Southern Waitress Reader (Amazon TV show, Alan Ritchson)

Warning: Some fighting, suggestive descriptions, cutesy

Summary: Our giant man Reacher meets a charming young waitress :) and takes care of people ;)

Word Count: ~2,115 words

A/N: There will be a part 2 eventually lol

Master List - Tag List Sign-Up (tags at the bottom)

“What can I get you, sugar?”

God, the way she called him “Sugar” practically dripped from her lip-gloss covered lips like hot honey. Her breasts threatening to spill out of her lacy unpadded bra - it’s dark color barely showing through her low-cut white top.

He knew not to look, he shouldn’t, he couldn’t.

But one peek wouldn’t hurt.

It wasn’t even seven-thirty in the morning when she’d walked over to him with a pen and a little notepad.

Reacher sat up, his body erect as she spoke so sweetly to him. His eyes quickly glanced at her bosom, then made eye contact with her, showing a crooked smile, “Good morning, what are your specials?”

Y/N gave him a small smile as she caught the flicker in his eyes as he lifted them to meet yours. “Our breakfast specials include the garlic biscuit sliders with chicken, sausage, or ham…” She leaned over slightly and pointed on the menu on the table at the various specials.

Y/N’s perfume smelled so sweet. Hints of peaches and vanilla.

No. He can’t be distracted. He had to meet Neagly later. 

He smiled as he looked back up at her, he didn’t hear half of what Y/N just said about the menu, just glancing at the worn out name tag that said her name. Her cheeks blushed slightly as he looked at her, the two of them were rather close.

Smiling at her, he asked, “I’ll have the garlic biscuit with the sausage special. Can I get extra bacon and a slice of your peach pie?”

“Yes, sir, you can. You want ice tea or coffee to drink?”

“Coffee is fine. Just black.”

She quickly glanced down at his large and firm chest and then back up at his eyes. He smirked even more.

Y/N bit her lower lip and then stood upright, writing his order down, “Sure thing, honey. I’ll be right back in a few.”

And those few minutes took an eternity. Reacher’s thighs began to itch as he watched her walk back to the back counter, leaning over so she could give the chef his order through the heating lamps, blushing in playful annoyance, with the cook winking and pursed lips, making kissing noises at her until she rolled her eyes and sighed, shaking her head.

He barely knew her but the sight of the cook irritated him. That’s no way to treat you - even if it was banter between coworkers. He’d been in town for merely a few hours.

He tried to look away. He really did. But the way her hips swayed and her chest moved, her apron tight and snug around her waist, her soft body spilling out from the sides of the apron and the top of her jeans. Every time she stood by a table to take an order, she always shifted her weight to her left, her left hip pushing out of the top of her jeans.

He always liked a full woman.

Chuckling to himself, he turned slightly to keep himself from boring holes on her ass. He glanced out the window but was thankfully disturbed by the smell of her and the food he ordered.

“Here we got today’s special with extra bacon and a cup o’joe, hot and ready just for you, honey. I’m all out of peach pie but I got one coming out of the oven any secon’ now. You want some ice cream with that pie?” She laid his food down gently, he gave you a grin and thanked you, “Careful, plate’s hot, honey.”

“Ice cream would hurt my teeth but I’ll take it since you suggested it.” Reacher caught her blush. 

“I’ll make a note of it. Enjoy your food and let me know if ya need anything, ok?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled and picked up his utensils.

She winked at him and walked away, picking up a pot of coffee to replenish cups of other patrons and swatting away advances from men in their sixties on her way back to the back counter.

After a while, Y/N walked back with a plate of peach pie covered in a large scoop of vanilla ice cream and placed it in front of him.

“One large piece of fresh peach pie with a heaping scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream for the gentleman,” She said cheerfully and replenished his coffee.

He couldn’t help but smile at her, “Why on earth would you work here?” He asked bluntly, but with a soft chuckle at the end.

“Well, I got bills to pay. Just like everyone else.” She chuckled. “You ain’t got no bills?”

God, he’d do anything to hear Y/N laugh again.

“No, I don’t.”

“No bills at all?” She shook your head slightly, smiling still, thinking he’s joking.

“I have no reason to lie.”

She stared at him, not quite sure if she actually believed him or not. Most of her customers told her a few wild things here and there. But no one around these parts looked quite like him.

He was a behemoth of a man standing taller than the green giant on a can of peas, bigger and more muscular than those lumberjacks on those Brawny paper towels. His one arm was probably the size of one of her soft and plush thighs that seemed to be restricted on those skinny jeans she’s wearing.

“Aight.” She chuckled again. Her name was called, and she glanced at a group of young men about your age who dog-whistled and hollered at her. Y/N turned back around to Reacher and forced a smile, “You enjoy your pie, sir, I’ll be back in a bit with your bill. Just holler if you need anything, yeah?”

“You know them?” Reacher suddenly turned serious. His attention was on those young men who banged on the table, demanding that she serve them.

“I-I’m sorry about them, I’ll tell them to quiet down in a minute. They’re just a little rowdy-“

“That’s not what I asked. Do you know them?” He asked again, looking up at her. Her demeanor changed. Embarrassment. She could pick out that pleather jacket out from a crowd. 

Blushing slightly in embarrassment, she answered, “I know one of them… that one in the sport’s jacket. The rest are his little friends. But I’ll tell them to-“

Before she could finish, Reacher stood up from his seat, his mere size making you gasp. She hadn’t realized how large he actually was until he stood up, she hadn’t seen him when he first walked in.

“Sir- please you don’t have to talk to them, what are you doin-“

“Your name is Y/N?”

“Y-Yes…” she clutched the handle of the coffee pot to make sure she didn’t drop it. He glanced down at her and gave her a half-smirk, “Just go stay behind the counter and put the coffee back on the machine so it doesn’t get cold.”

Not knowing what to think, Y/N did what he asked, the other waitresses following suit, other customers either staying in their seats or moving away as they watched Reacher walk up to the group of rowdy young men who still tried to get your attention.

He grabbed a chair and sat it by the edge of the table and sat down. Even sitting down, his large body frame towered over them. He didn’t say anything at first but looked at them smugly for a moment as they all stared at him. 

The main culprit looked like he had a vein about to pop out of his forehead, “Can I help you?”

“Any reason you need Y/N to help you?”

“She’s a waitress, and I’ve been trying to get her number for a hot minute - she works here, of course she’s going to serve us.” He scoffed.

“I don’t appreciate you calling her over like she’s a dog, Pleather.”

—

“This will just sting a little-“

“Y/N, I’m fine-“

“No you ain’t, Reacher. Your brow and your lip is all busted up and that one guy had a knife.” Y/N shook her head as she cleaned up his brow with some alcohol and then put a small bandage on his forehead.

Reacher smiled at her the whole time as he let her patch him up. She’d taken him off to the side. Moaning in the distance outside, incoherent cursing could be heard from the parking lot as the group of young men eventually stood up from the ground and made it back to their car. The main culprit was hanging out in the parking lot, looking through the window at Y/N and Reacher. He spit on the ground before finally going back to his car.

“But I’m serious, Reacher… you ain’t have to do that…” Once she finished, Y/N put the extra bandages back in the First Aid kit and looked at him with concern.

“Well, I did it anyway. And last I checked, you’re not a dog.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile and then patted his shoulder. “You’re sweet. Sorry about your pie, the ice cream is all melted. I’ll get you a new one.”

“You eat that new one, I’ll eat mine.” Reacher was not one to waste food if he could help it - especially when trouble seemed to follow him. Smiling softly, she nodded and patted his shoulder before going back behind the counter and cutting her own slice of pie as Reacher walked back to his seat, waiting and watching as Y/N walked back and sat opposite of him.

Like teenagers, they couldn’t keep eye contact while trying to eat their peach pie.

“That was some military fightin’ back there, Reacher? Is it ok if I call you Reacher?” Y/N managed to muster out, clearing his throat and looking up at him.

Chuckling softly, Reacher nodded, “Yeah, I was in for a while.” He paused for a moment, watching her eat. The stories she must’ve heard from people. The restaurant was quiet again. She looked up at him, giving him a small smile. “Jack is fine too.”

“Jack? That’s your first name?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Jack Reacher.” She said. She was quiet for a second as she examined him. Taking in his appearance. Committing him to memory. She sucked the inside of her cheek as she tilted her head. Savoring his name, as if she took a bite of him like she did that pie. The sweetness in her voice dripping from her lips as she said his whole name. Sweeter than the half-eaten peach pies sitting before them.

“I like it. Hard to forget a name like that. It’s different. You stayin’ here long, Jack?” She scooped the last bit of pie and placed the spoon face down on her tongue, sucking off whatever peach pie remnants were left on the spoon before placing the spoon on her plate.

Very few people’s opinions mattered to Reacher, he barely knew Y/N but it made him smile when she said his name and that she liked his name. It gave him an unusual feeling. Couldn’t help but wonder what peach pie would taste like when it’s on her tongue. 

“Just passing through.” He leaned back once he finished his slice of pie, admiring the woman in front of him. Her lipgloss still glistened. Her eyes sparkled. Her breasts barely contained in her bra.

“That’s unfortunate. I would’ve loved to see you again, Jack.” She smiled when she took notice of him admiring her. It was a different type of admiration. “Can I call you?”

“Don’t have a phone.”

“Can I send you a letter?”

“Don’t have an address.”

“Well, damn, how will I talk to you and get to know you when you leave? Will this be the last I see of Jack Reacher, the man who saved my life?”

“I’ll come back tonight.” Reacher chuckled, smirking at her.

Y/N chuckled and then leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms on the table, making the softness in her breasts very obvious as they pressed up. “Is that so? Well, would you like me to tell you the dinner specials now or later?”

“What time to do you get off?”

“After dinner tonight. Would you like to join me for dinner?” 

“I should be asking you that.” Reacher mirrored her actions, leaning forward, his massive arms made of military grade steel rested on the table. Their faces were mere inches apart.

“Well, I asked first.”

Reacher wasn’t one to pursue women. But Y/N? From the little time he got to interact with her, he might hang around this little country town a little while longer.

TAG LIST

@redpool @mykneeshurt

#Jack Reacher #alan ritchson #jack reacher x reader #jack reacher fanfic #jack reacher fan fiction #jack reacher Alan ritchson #jack reacher headcanons #jack reacher amazon #jack reacher amazon prime #reacher #reacher x reader #reacher amazon

[muddyorbsblr]

timeless

See my full list of works here!

Summary: While doing some research to help out Mobius on a 'moonshot project', you and Loki come across a startling revelation about your lives. All your lives.

Pairing: TVA!Loki x TVA!Reader

Word Count: 3.5

Warnings: some talks of smutty times, but overall this is just fluff [let me know if i missed something!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship, talks of soulmates, references to my other stories

"I really don't get why you're in here bugging me for something to do, Y/N," Agent Mobius chuckled, shaking his head as he thumbed through another folder's worth of records that he hadn't told you quite yet what they were for. "No high-level variant threats have been reported, timelines are--well, they're relatively stable. Things are quiet for a change. I say enjoy it while it lasts and go on a vacation or something with Laufeyson. Just don't--"

"Don't cause any Nexus events, yes yes, Mobius, we know." A smile broke out on your face at the sound of Loki's voice cutting off the TVA Agent, your cheeks nearly aching from your grin widening when he walked up behind you and long arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "Thing is we already have partaken in quite a handful of adventures across the timelines, indulging ourselves in the…numerous pleasures and luxuries that they have to offer."

One look at how you were reddening with the implications of your boyfriend's words had your fellow Agent scrunching up his face in feigned appalment. "Time and place, you two, jeez."

You and Loki shared a confused look when an analyst from another table yelled "And you did it at my birthday dinner!" and rendered Mobius into a cackling heap, laughing into his sleeve to muffle the sound.

"Anyway…" you spoke up, making the grey-haired agent look back up at you. "Are you sure there isn't anything we can help with? Doesn't even have to be high-level, I'll literally take up a timeline reset caused by a woman at a grocery store grabbing a can of peaches instead of a can of mangoes, I'm getting antsy here."

"Alright alright fine," he sighed, motioning toward you and the god behind you. "It's something of a moonshot but we've been trying to find proof of the existence of soulmates throughout the timelines, so we need concrete cases that no matter the circumstance, no matter the obstructions between two souls, they always find each other and they always end up together."

"You mean like in that TV show where they've got fairytale characters in like Maine or something and there's this couple that constantly goes--"

"I'll find you, I will always find you," you and Mobius said at once, causing you both to break out into laughter.

"Exactly like that," he confirmed when he calmed down some. "Preferably without the cheesy catchphrase because in case you do find one I would actually prefer to not include in my report that all soulmates have some line they tell each other that's so cheesy it's pungent."

"Right so…soulmates, no cheesy lines, across the timelines. Got it." You gave him a little salute before you went off to the shelves, holding Loki's hand as he followed a few steps behind you.

"Darling we have been scouring through files for hours. Perhaps it's time to report back to Mobius. Tell him that every pair we've found so far have broken the pattern at some iteration down the line. The most we've come across is a pair that were together for five iterations of their lives before the sixth showed they never even met in that lifetime."

Your shoulders slumped over when you placed your latest folder on your pile, of failed attempts, just about  half the size of Loki's own little mountain of case files. Maybe he was right; every possible lead you'd found all ended up a dud, and that alone would be proof enough that this was all a wild goose chase of an assignment for Mobius.

Then again, he did call it a moonshot, so the realization didn't smart too much.

The frustration you felt began to melt away the moment Loki's hands touched your shoulders, leaning into him when he started working at the knots that he found with expert precision. "Okay, you're right," you sighed. "Let's go tell Cubey his moonshot's a single needle in a city of haystacks."

He placed a kiss to the top of your head, using his seiðr to stack the case files into neat stacks arranged by file number. "Thank the Norns that ridiculous magic dampener fractured some when the timelines diverged," he mumbled, chuckling into your hair. "Now how about I bring us to a nice hot spring and we could simply…enjoy one another's company?" You let out a giggle when his hands traveled down your sides, lightly grasping your waist and pulling you against him.

If only you could have silenced the little voice in your head when you were just seconds away from him whisking you off to Jökulsárlón or Hakone, clad in a dark emerald bikini that your lover would peel off of you as he made good on his promise for you both to enjoy each other's company.

"I can nearly hear the thoughts forming in your mind, darling," he cooed, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, chuckling against your skin when you wordlessly confirmed what he'd said by slumping over again. "What is it?"

"Just one last try?" You wouldn't ever let yourself live it down if you'd gone down this road and not looked at this particular set of files.

He let out a sigh, his slightly cool breath tickling your skin before pressing a tender kiss to the back of your head. "One last attempt. And if we reach another dead end--"

"You can whisk me away to any destination of your choice and have your wicked way with me," you finished for him, letting out a little yelp when he brought his lips to the spot between your neck and shoulder, playfully nipping at the skin.

"What a deliciously reckless promise, my love," he teased, smirking against your neck when he proceeded to lightly suck at the sensitive skin and you had to bite your lip to muffle the whimper that slipped through your lips. "I look forward to collecting on it in a short while."

He rested his chin on your shoulder, still holding you close when you called out for a bit of assistance on your final hunch. "Minutes?"

Your eyes squinted to adjust to the sudden brightness when the orange hologram appeared on the desk in front of you. "Well hello there, lovebirds. What can I do for y'all?" she asked with a small wave of her cartoonish stick arm.

"Could you pull up our files?"

"Well sure I can, Y/N! How much of your files are we talking here?"

You shared a look with Loki before you answered, "All of them?"

"Before I hand 'em over, I think it's best y'all know from the get go that you're about to deal with thousands of files. It'll take a whole lotta time before you can sort 'em all out," she cautioned you both, already giving you a digital visual of how many files she'd already begun to pull up.

"Minutes, as I've come to understand it, we variants apparently have all the time in the world," you countered, shrugging your free shoulder and giving the living hologram a little smile. "We can take it."

"Alright well suit yourself," she comically shrugged both her hands before making the files that were already on the table disperse and go back to their original locations throughout the library shelves before stacks upon stacks of folders materialized in their place. All of them sectioned off into two sides. "Have at it, y'all."

You picked up the first folder from the stack closest to you, your brows knitting together already once you read the name on the file. "Minutes, I don't think this is mine, it says Eve but that's not--"

"Your name?" she finished for you. "Darlin', Y/N is your name in this lifetime--Well, the lifetime you came from before your Nexus event, you get what I mean. The file you're holding is from another lifetime, heck, might even be from another timeline. But one look at that file and you'll see that that's you. All of these are you. Doesn't matter if you're goin' by a different name, the soul remains the same."

The air left your lungs when you opened the folder to find a picture of you with pale skin and matted ivory hair on the front of the file. Only thing was that this version of you wasn't quite human in her lifetime. In fact centuries of it were spent as a vampire.

A few moments later she spoke up again. "Well then that's my cue. Happy sortin', y'all!" And then she disappeared. Leaving you and Loki alone with your couple thousand files each to rifle through.

Had you been there on a different objective, you would have spent a bit more time thumbing through the pages that detailed the life of this version of you, rubbing elbows with numerous prominent figures throughout history and having her fair share of trysts with a handful of them. But your only focus was her most prominent affair. Her great love.

When you reached that page, you felt yourself go breathless once again looking at the picture that stared back at you. "Loki," you breathed out, holding out the file to him so he could see for himself. The god's eyes widened at the photo in front of him. The ebony hair may be matted and the skin somehow even paler than his usual complexion, but there was no denying it. This Eve's companion throughout her years, this Adam, was another lifetime's iteration of Loki.

He began to rifle through his own stacks of folders, finding the one that had the same variant number and interlocked his and your folders together, starting a new stack at the center of the desk. "If you're right, and this yields the moonshot result that Mobius has been searching for, you can pick the destination and have your wicked way with me."

"Why Mischief, how reckless of you," you said coyly, batting your eyelashes at him. "What if I wanna tie you up?"

"It's endearing that you believe you could, my darling." He lightly poked your side, quickly pulling you into his arms the second you started wriggling and giggling in his direction. "But if that is truly what you want then I can promise not to break out for an hour."

"Two," you countered.

"Ninety minutes."

"Deal."

"Now if I'm right and this leads to another dead end, I whisk you away to any destination of my choosing for a fortnight, no tempads, no missions, and not a stitch of clothing on this glorious form of yours." His lips skimmed the side of your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek when you let out a squeal at his finger deftly undoing the top button of your shirt. "Do we have a deal, my love?"

"Okay okay," you relented, turning your head to steal a quick kiss before bring your attention back to the folders you were about to sort through. Before you could pull away, his free hand went up to the back of your head and deepened the kiss.

"What if I told you I've been plagued with visions of stripping you bare and laying you out on the desk before me? That I'd been thinking of enjoying every delectable inch of you as if you were my own personal dessert board?" You let out a gasp at the lustful image his words had conjured in your mind, allowing him to easily lick into your mouth and turn you into putty in his arms the moment your tongues met.

"I'd say I'm not surprised," you breathed out when he pulled away, placing your hand over his before he could undo a third button from your shirt. "But the faster we get this done, the faster oneof us will be at the other's mercy and maybe you can even bring that desk fantasy of yours to life." You pressed another quick peck to his lips before managing to wriggle your way out of his embrace, jutting your chin at his side of the desk. "Pick a file, Mischief."

The next file had you and him initially on opposite sides of the Battle of New York, your story starting in Stuttgart when he had clones force you down on your knees and the injuries from that encounter permanently damaging you. A handful of times throughout the day of the actual battle, he went out of his way to save your life, ensuring your safety from a fatal fall and even the Hulk; the document even had a mention of him asking Thor of what came of you after he was apprehended because you weren't among the Avengers that saw him off to Asgard, only to find out the true extent of your injuries. Then he found himself back on Earth to serve his sentence and falling in love with you, using his magic to undo the physical damage that he dealt you. And then you two went on your own adventure to have 'do-overs' in places that held bitter memories for him, from Stuttgart to Asgard and even the balcony in Stark Tower.

Another file saw Loki as an English baronet named Thomas Sharpe, and you as his final wife and a sort of partner in crime. Initially you teamed up to play a dangerous game of sneaking around his ancestral home to gather and send out evidence that would put his incestuous and murderous sister Lucille behind bars, and somewhere along the way you two had genuinely fallen in love with one another.

You then found a good handful of scenarios where you both lived in the Avengers Compound, having a bad case of mutual pining and both of you being too hesitant and overcome with doubt that neither of you made a move until the situation practically forced you to confess. One even involved you photographing him for an Avengers calendar where he stripped for you during his session.

"Yeah, this definitely sounds like you," you joked when you showed him one of the pictures from the photoshoot in question where he laid on his side on a white bed wearing nothing but a pair of white boxers. When you opened the next file, you let out a whiny groan out of sheer frustration and disappointment.

"Darling, that is a sound I only wish to hear when I elicit it from you. What's wrong?"

"Might as well just lie down on the table right now because there's no way this isn't a dead end." You waved the file in your hand in the air.

"Much as I would thoroughly enjoy claiming this particular prize, perhaps we need not be so hasty, my love. Tell me what would be such a hindrance that you'd be ready to give up your theory--"

"Place of Birth: Asgard," you read out, cutting him off. "Born to Lady Sif of the Warriors Four--"

"Alright well Sif would surely have some choice words with me if I courted you but--"

"And the Crown Prince Thor, God of Thunder." You gave him a look as if to say "This is why", the realization dawning on him as well that yes, this would be the dead end that would grant him his victory. And yet for some reason, you decided to keep on turning the pages. "Gotta be honest, though, I thought that what would break our streak is if we never met in these--Oh what in the Game of Thrones Targaryen nonsense is this??"

"What is it?"

"The streak isn't broken yet," you croaked out, the disbelief entering his eyes as he frantically started searching for his corresponding variant file. "We were married for two and a half thousand years."

"I surrendered my claim to the throne of Asgard for you," he declared in astonishment. "We have children in this timeline." His voice began to hitch at the end, making you immediately close the distance between you to lace your fingers together.

"Looks like even something as monumental as being your brother's daughter couldn't stop us," you noted with a little smile, breaking out into a full grin when your comment made Loki exhaled in a rather loud chuckle that traveled across the library. You took your two folders and interlocked them, adding to the pile in the center. "Let's keep going."

It was several hours later that you two had finally found your way back to the desk that Mobius occupied, the more tenured agent pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes in clear frustration.

"You still got nothing, Cubey?"

"One of these days I'm gonna find a name for you that's just as annoying, Y/L/N, just you wait," he groaned, his posture visibly slumping when he saw the interlocked stacks of folders that you were carting around. "What in the name of the Alioth is that?"

"We found one," you proudly stated. "Proof that soulmates exist and…only some of them have a catchphrase."

"That's just one?!" he boomed, immediately getting shh'd by a more elderly analyst a few tables behind him to which you and Loki shh'd her right back without missing a beat. You nodded your answer to Mobius. "So what's the catchphrase?"

"I was made to be yours," you began, letting go of the cart to hold your hand out to Loki.

"And I yours," he finished, lacing your fingers together before draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"Wait a damn minute," Mobius said suspiciously, pointing a finger between the two of you. "Are you two trying to tell me that the first and so far only case of soulmates we have on record is--"

"Us," you finished for him, nudging the cart in his direction with your foot. "Every single lifetime on every single timeline accounted for."

"What about your own?" he questioned. "You both mentioned that you'd never met your timeline's version of each other prior to your Nexus events."

"Well see that's the thing. These files only cover everything prior to a variant's Nexus event, or what the events were in their own respective sacred timelines. We met each other after our Nexus events. So maybe our souls never found each other in the lives that we left behind because…we were meant to find each other here."

"Huh…" he mused, looking carefully at the two of you. "Could be. Nice catch, you two. I knew I made a good call giving you a partner, Loki."

"My darling mortal is quite brilliant," your lover beamed, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for our introduction."

"Well, you really don't have to but if you feel so compelled, I'm willing to take a jet ski and a vacation to Miami if you two can swing it."

"We'll call you if anything serious pops up, just keep your tempad charged," you shot back, extending your free hand toward him to shake. "But really, Cubey. Thank you. For introducing us. For vouching for me and making sure that I didn't get pruned during my trial with Rennslayer--"

"Otherwise you might have crossed paths with that one-handed variant in the Void and who knows what nefarious and depraved intentions he would have had with you," Loki interjected, resting his head on yours.

"You have a Captain Hook variant?"

"Nah it was a president," Mobius answered with a wave of his hand. "Got his hand bit off by an alligator."

"So…a Captain Hook variant."

"Yeah, you know what you're right. Loki has a Captain Hook variant. You'll meet him soon enough when you get sent on a mission to the Void. Loads of highly dangerous variants usually find themselves there when they try to escape processing."

"If he even dares touch you I'll divest him of his remaining hand," Loki grumbled, once again pressing his lips to your temple. "That heathen can find his own variant of you. You're mine."

"All yours," you beamed, bringing your joint hands to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. "And speaking of…we're off for a few weeks, Cubey. We have a date to get to."

"Please don't get arrested for indecent exposure. Or public fornication," the senior agent groaned. "That's a timeline I'll need therapy for if I have to be the sorry ass to reset it."

Neither of you responded other than a little wave and a thumbs up in his direction as you walked away, the god giving you a dimpled smirk as you two made your way to your shared apartment.

"Where shall we head to first, little mortal? A hot spring? Or perhaps a nice scenic tundra? Or perhaps a cherry blossom forest? I can already picture your beauty with the backdrop of the falling petals…"

He stopped listing options when he saw you shaking your head, mirroring his smirk with one of your own. "Bedroom first. And give me your tie. You owe me ninety minutes."

A/N: I'm so glad to finally get this out for y'all to see! This was originally supposed to up weeks ago for something but some of my own revelations were made (translation: I got bitch slapped in the face by reality) which led to the postponing of this story. Anyways, I hope y'all liked it even if it is kinda cringe and silly. I'm always gonna be cringe and silly, so manage expectations accordingly. 🥴🫡

Also if you got all the references within the files (except the OLLA one that's a freebie) I officially love you. 💖💛

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#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #muddyorbs writes

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 2: The Jailhouse]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, historical topics including war and discrimination, smoking, blasphemy, kids, parenthood, alcoholism, y'all know exactly who is in jail come on now, Pizza Hut, a wild ex-husband appears!

Word Count: 7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @eltherevir @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @aemonddtargaryen @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰🧁

Amir is sitting at the kitchen table and icing peach cobbler cupcakes; he has a single white flower from a dogwood tree poked through one of his cornrows. He wears a short sleeve button-up shirt with a kaleidoscopic geometric pattern, high-waisted khaki shorts, and eyeglasses with large rectangular, tortoiseshell frames. He has one leg crossed over the other and is kicking it absentmindedly as he works, a habit he’s had since long before you met him in your 9th grade English class. The microwave is humming. Walk This Way is blaring from the little pink boombox.

“Ho, I mean it this time, I gotta get the hell out of this town.” Amir uses a fork to place a small peach wedge—sauteed in butter, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla—atop the swirl of buttercream frosting, then sprinkles the cupcake with cinnamon before moving on to the next. “Guess what some inbred neanderthal swamp creature did last night. They busted a window out of my car again.”

“I told you to take that thing off it.” Amir has a homemade bumper sticker on his Ford Escort that reads, in holographic rainbow cursive: Fuck Ronald Reagan (not literally)!

“That war criminal can let 50,000 people die of AIDS but I belong on America’s Most Wanted for exercising my First Amendment rights?”

“I know you’re not wrong. You know you’re not wrong. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“To be afraid is to behave as if the truth were not true. Bayard Rustin said that.”

“And I’m sure he was a very smart man, but he didn’t have to live in Napoleonville.” The microwave beeps, and you remove the sweet potato inside with an oven mitt and place it on the counter alongside the others. This is a trick you’ve learned: they’re so much easier to peel and slice once they’ve been microwaved a bit, thirty seconds for a small potato, one minute for a larger one. “You want me to ask Willis to do a stakeout or something?”

“He might be the one committing vandalism.”

You frown down at the sweet potatoes as you peel them over the cutting board and toss the skins into a bowl so Cadi can feed them to the squirrels later. You doubt Willis is responsible, but one of his friends very well could be.

Amir sighs, acquiescing, wistful. “Six months from now I’ll be in San Francisco.” Yes, he will; he’s been saving up for years. The thought of him leaving is practically apocalyptic. You can’t envision a future without Amir. It’s like the very worst version of when you’re a kid and some event—Christmas, your birthday, summer break, prom—is so glimmeringly monumental that whatever life will exist beyond it is incomprehensible, a haze of other people’s dreams and warnings. Surely you won’t exist in that timeline; surely you will dissolve away once that fateful checkpoint is reached and become nothing but sun and sand.

You don’t tell Amir any of this. You don’t want to make him feel guilty. Instead you tease: “You sure you don’t want to stay and get a job on one of those shiny new oil rigs?”

He laughs as he pipes buttercream frosting onto the last peach cobbler cupcake. His artistic talents far surpass yours, but you bring the baking techniques and recipe ideas. Still, you have always split the bakery profits—however meager they might be—equally. “Yes, how could I possibly pass up the opportunity to lose half my skin in an explosion caused by company negligence? Or inhale toxic fumes, or have my limbs ripped off, or fracture my skull? Or fall off a platform in the middle of the night and be eaten by a gator before anyone bothers to fish me out? I will surely regret all my life choices when I’m lying on the beach in Pacifica next to my new boyfriend who looks like Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

The front door opens. It’s Mr. Fontenot, the town pharmacist. You call out: “Hi there! Come right on in! We’ve got your cake ready. Blue velvet with marshmallow cream and topped with candied blueberries. We read up on how to make them just for you. So thank you kindly for the learning opportunity.”

Since you’re wrist-deep in sweet potatoes, Amir leaps up to retrieve the box. He opens it so Mr. Fontenot can inspect his order. “When you cut into it, you’ll see that it’s a dark royal blue on the inside. Cookie Monster blue, not robin egg blue, just like you wanted.”

“Will ya look at that,” Mr. Fontenot says, beaming down at the cake. Written across the marshmallow cream in blue icing is (in Amir’s most elegant script): Happy 8th Birthday, Corey! “My grandson is going to get such a kick out of a blue cake.”

“He sure is,” Amir agrees. “Now can I talk you into anything else for the party? Some peach cobbler cupcakes, perhaps? Praline brownies? A brown sugar pie? Homemade Fruity Pebbles Rice Krispie Treats? Kids love them…!”

You say once Mr. Fontenot has gone: “He works for the company, you know.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Aemond. He works for Jade Dragon. He’s an engineer.”

“Ho, you are obsessed with that man!” Amir says. “You’ve brought him up, like, four times already!”

“Yeah,” you confess, a humiliation that is futile to deny. Parts of you are still sore from what he did to you; other places are aching for more.

“And you didn’t even get to see the dick?!”

You shake your head as you cut the peeled sweet potatoes into haphazard chunks. Amir puts a pot of water on the stove so you can boil them until they’re soft enough to mash into filling for a sweet potato pie. “Didn’t see it, didn’t touch it…”

“Didn’t lick it, didn’t suck it?”

“Okay, that’s enough, Dr. Seuss. But no.”

“Secret dick, scar on his face, missing an eye…” Amir mutters. “Maybe he’s a veteran who lost his andouille in combat! Yes! That’s it! He was there when we invaded Lebanon or Grenada or Libya and now he’s horribly disfigured and can’t bear the prospect of your inevitable horror and rejection!”

“His andouille is definitely unchopped. I could…uh…tell. Through his jeans.”

Amir closes his eyes and presses his palms together. “Sweet baby Jesus, please send me a gainfully employed big-dicked blonde man too.” He looks at you again. “But he really wouldn’t use it?!”

“Aemond said he wanted me to trust him first.”

“Maybe he doesn’t trust you. Maybe he thinks you might be on the prowl for Shotgun Wedding #2. You should tell him he’s got nothing to worry about in that department. You’ve been on the pill practically since Cadi was born.”

You murmur: “And I will be forever.”

“I know,” Amir says gently, pausing to squeeze your shoulder before taking the sweet potato hunks you’ve sliced already and dropping them in the boiling water. “So! When are you going to call him?”

You startle. “I can’t call him! I called him the first time. Now it’s his turn to call me. I can’t call him again, that would be desperate. Right?” Right?!

“Does he even know your number?”

“He knows my name, and he knows about the bakery. The number is publicly listed, he can find me in the phone book.”

Amir groans. “Lord have mercy, just call him! Pick up that pink phone right there beside the refrigerator and press those cute little buttons and say, loud and proud: Come on over here, big boy, I want to see that traumatized war veteran dick.”

The phone rings. You trip over your own feet as you lunge for it.

Amir snickers. “Pathetic!” He takes over slicing the rest of the sweet potatoes.

“Hello?!”

You hear a deep, slothful drawl; Willis’ family have been bayou people for longer than the United States has been a country. “Hey sugar, you want to bring your favorite ex-husband some dessert?”

You sigh. “Hi, Willis.” From across the kitchen, Amir makes retching noises.

“So what’d ya say? I just had a late lunch and got to thinkin’ of you. Gave me a sweet tooth.”

“Um, I don’t know, we’re really busy right now.” Amir snorts; you’ve had three customers in the last hour. There’s usually a rush first thing each morning and then again around closing time.

“Ya ain’t got time for me? Well, alrighty then. Maybe I won’t have time for you when you need a wild hog chased off your porch or a flat tire changed out there on Route 401.”

This is the eternal dilemma, the balance you wrestle with like a boat in a storm: not making him angry, not letting him get too close. You and Willis don’t have a formal agreement for custody or child support. You’ve worked it out yourselves, and he typically doesn’t make it too difficult. You’ve always felt that appeasement is the wisest course of action. As the elected sheriff of Assumption Parish, Willis Boudreaux is responsible for all criminal investigations, court proceedings, and tax collecting. Even when he was just a deputy, he had plenty of friends at the little white courthouse in the heart of downtown Napoleonville. You’re better off working with him than against him. “Okay, fine, I guess I have a few minutes. What do you want?”

“Why don’t you make a professional recommendation?”

You glance irritably at the kitchen table. “We have brown sugar pie, peach cobbler cupcakes, praline brownies, lemon blueberry cookies, uh, I’ve got half a strawberries and cream cake left in the fridge…”

“Definitely the cake,” Willis says. “I love strawberries. Remember how you fed them to me on the beach when we went to Grand Isle?”

That was…what, eight years ago? Ugh. “Barely.” You like when Willis has a girlfriend; then he mostly leaves you alone. Tragically, he and his most recent fiancé Colleen broke up last month. “I’ll drive the cake over now.” You slam the phone receiver into the base before Willis can respond.

“Let’s kill him,” Amir says.

You laugh. “I’ll consider it.”

“We can feed him to that gator out in the tree row.”

You grab a flat white bakery box off the pile, fold it open, and fetch what remains of the strawberries and cream cake from the refrigerator. “You’ll get that sweet potato pie in the oven if I’m gone for a half hour?”

“Yup. Then I’ll start working on the brown butter oatmeal raisin cookies. Is the recipe…? Oh, I see it, it’s right here on the counter. Got it. Have fun with your awful ex-husband. You sure you don’t want to add a little something special to that cake? Windex? Rat poison? He sure looks like a rodent to me. That nose? Those eyebrows?!”

“Amir, he’s just French.”

“He should be exiled to Saint Helena.”

“I’m going to have to put my own ad in the Bayou Journal,” you say, smiling sadly. “Who’s going to run the shop with me when you’re in San Francisco?”

Amir winks. “Maybe your traumatized, half-blind, hung-like-a-horse war veteran knows how to bake.”

Outside, the gator is sunning herself by the gravel driveway. She’s only about five feet long and dozing with her muddy green eyes closed, jagged upper teeth on display, missing toes here and there, back scarred by boat motors. It’s 90 degrees and sunny, warmth flooding over your bare legs and arms: denim shorts, lime green tank top. You can hear cicadas, doves, chickadees, starlings, goldfinches, ospreys, the benign droning of bumble bees. You throw the white box in the passenger seat and start your Chevy Celebrity, yellow paint, wood paneling, brown velour upholstery. You crank down the windows—the air conditioning is broken, that’s one reason why Willis’ brother was willing to sell it to you so cheap—and turn on the radio: 867-5309 by Tommy Tutone. You pull out onto Route 401, headed northeast towards downtown Napoleonville.

You pass fields of sugarcane and soybeans, shacks and trailers, grass green like emeralds. The hot mid-May air, humid and stagnant, blows through your hair. If the ride was any longer than ten minutes, you’d have needed a cooler for the cake. You find a parking spot on the street outside the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office and grab the box containing half a strawberries and cream cake, probably just starting to get melty around the edges. Deputy Melancon is on his way out when you arrive. He holds the glass door open for you.

“Comment ca va, cherie? Is that for me? I hope so!”

“I think your boss would chew your arm off if you tried to get between him and this cake.”

Deputy Melancon guffaws as he ambles towards his police car. “Have fun in there! It’s a zoo today.”

“What…?” But now you can hear the noise coming from inside the building: howling, banging, Willis telling someone to sit down and shut up, his Cajun drawl lethargic and calm. Willis is not a yeller, and you’ve never witness him raise his hands in violence. The being a cop part of his job is the aspect he enjoys the least. But sitting around jawing with his deputies until long after midnight, regaling them with tales of supposed glory acquired while you were home with a screaming baby, scrubbing floors, fixing dinner, still bleeding eight weeks after birth, waiting—because it was all there was to look forward to—for him to walk through the door and shuffle to the couch and collapse there with an ice-cold can of Bud Light in his fist, dripping condensation down his sinewy forearm? That’s what Willis lives for.

Willis is at his desk and grudgingly plodding through an intake form. His sunglasses have been shoved up into his dark curly hair; his hat—which he loathes wearing—is resting atop a mountain of deserted paperwork. There’s a poster of Heather Locklear on the wall along with a dartboard with a cutout of Tommy Lee in the center. There’s a man in one of the three holding cells that you’ve hardly ever seen used. He has slicked-back blonde hair, an aristocratic wisp of a moustache, an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and tiny red shorts and thick foam rainbow-patterned flip flops. He’s the person responsible for the ruckus.

“I want my phone call!” the prisoner shouts as he beats his palms against the iron bars. “Hey! Hey, mullet boy! I want my fucking phone call!”

Oddly, the stranger has a British accent. Aemond? you think for a split second. But no; this man couldn’t possibly be related to Aemond. He is short, slouched, soft all over, uncoordinated and uncomposed, pathetic, petulant, innately pitiful. Willis ignores him. He speaks to you instead.

“Bienvenue, sugar. Ya got something sweet for me?”

Obediently—though not entirely willingly—you bring him the white box and set it on his disorganized desk. Willis produces a stack of Styrofoam plates and a Ziploc bag full of plastic eating utensils that he keeps stocked in a drawer specifically for such occasions. He opens the box and sighs euphorically, his eyes on the moist pink cake and layers of whipped cream frosting as if it’s the flesh of a naked woman.

“Hey!” the prisoner shouts, gripping the iron bars and pressing his flushed cheeks flat against them. “Hey! I like cake too!”

“Just what I needed,” Willis tells you, as if the man isn’t there. “Sit down, eat with me.”

“I really don’t have long.”

“Ya got five minutes, don’t you?”

I guess I do. You sit down but don’t take any cake. As Willis cuts himself a slice, you can’t help but watch the man in the holding cell. He stares back at you, a little ashamed, a little defiant, palpably weak. You ask Willis: “What did you book him for?”

“DWI,” Willis says with his mouth full of cake. “Driving While Intoxicated.”

“Huh. You don’t usually pick people up for that.”

Willis points at the prisoner with his fork for emphasis. “This one was very intoxicated.”

The man kicks the bars with his flip flops. “I want my fucking phone call!”

“Ya already used it,” Willis says pragmatically, and nods to something on the floor of the holding cell: an empty, grease-stained Pizza Hut box. The prisoner looks at it, regretful.

“I didn’t know I’d only get one,” he admits. “But also! You ate three slices of my pizza!”

Willis chuckles. “Consider it payin’ your taxes.” Then, to you: “It was tres bien. Meat Lover’s. Ya can’t argue with that.”

“Hey cake lady,” the prisoner says, his prominent eyes weepy, needful, a deep stormy blue. “Can I have a piece? Please? Please? I’m having a rough day here. My flip flops are giving me blisters and your redneck husband committed pizza theft. And I’m in jail.”

“Ex-husband,” you correct him.

“Good for you. Smart cake lady.”

Willis says: “You just settle down and I’ll drive you over to the parish jail as soon as I’m done with my dessert.” He shovels cake into his mouth; he eats like a gator, like a pig.

At last, you cut a portion of strawberries and cream cake—the whipped cream frosting turning thin and runny—and place it on a Styrofoam plate. Then you get up to take it to the prisoner. You have a soft spot for the freaks of the world. You and Amir, you know exactly what it’s like to be freaks.

“Don’t give him no fork or nothing,” Willis says around a mouthful of cake. “I can’t have him tryin’ to kill himself.”

“As if I’d give you the satisfaction, Sasquatch!” the prisoner flings back.

“It’s the Rougarou we got down here, son,” Willis replies, unbothered.

You set the plate on the beige linoleum floor close enough for the prisoner to reach out and drag it to his cell. When you step back, he retrieves the cake and eats it with his bare hands. “Oh, fuck, this is so good!”

You turn to Willis. “Cadi keeps mentioning some horseback riding camp that a bunch of her friends are going to this summer. Can we make that happen?”

“Are you kiddin’ me?! It’s over $300! That’s a new boat!”

“I think it would mean a lot to her.”

“Tell her if she grows her hair back out, maybe she can go next year.” Willis licks pink cake crumbs from his fork. “Why the hell’d she ever get it cut like that?”

You shrug, irritated. “Because she wanted to.”

“Never wears no skirts or dresses, doesn’t care about jewelry, always got dirt on her face…ain’t she gonna want a boyfriend in a few years? Who’s gonna take her out lookin’ like that? Who’s gonna marry her one day?”

“She’s ten years old, Willis.”

“She’s been spending too much time with your little friend, that’s the problem.”

You glare furiously at him, but are interrupted before you can say something unwise. The man in the holding cell has finished his slice of cake. He sucks frosting off his chubby fingers and then yanks on the iron bars in vain. “I gotta go home! I gotta feed my ferret!”

“Guess ya should have thought about that before driving 70 miles per hour in a school zone, Mr.…” Willis glances at the intake form to refresh his memory. “Targaryen. What the heck is that, Italian? Polish? It ain’t French, that’s for sure.”

“It’s Greek, you dumb hick.”

Willis jabs his plastic fork at him. “You oughta watch that, son, or you’ll catch yourself a nasty case of what the liberals call police brutality.”

“He’s a Targaryen?” you ask, stunned. The man in the cell peers back at you with large, ever-wounded, ocean-blue eyes, glassy but not entirely unintelligent.

“So what?” Willis says.

“Willis, those are the oil people. Jade Dragon, the new rigs on Lake Verret? The Targaryens own that company.”

“Well I’ll be damned!” he marvels. “Really? This bon a rien right here, his family are a bunch of millionaires?”

“Yes. And you should probably let him make another phone call.”

“Yeah!” the prisoner says excitedly. “Listen to the cake lady!”

“Alright, alright,” Willis grumbles. “Guess I don’t need no legal trouble.” He picks up the phone off his desk and walks it to the holding cell; the cord stretches just far enough. “Make your damn phone call, gros couillion.”

Mr. Targaryen snatches up the receiver, punches some buttons, and listens as it rings. “Hi. Okay, don’t yell at me. Here’s the deal. I’m at the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office and I need you to pick me up. Wait, I said don’t yell at me! Stop yelling!!”

“I really need to get back to the bakery,” you tell Willis as you make for the door. “I’ll see you around, okay—?”

“Hey, sugar.” You stop and wait for him to finish. He’s considering you in that way he does sometimes: mild, thoughtful, vaguely sad, how’d we end up like this? He should know, you’ve told him a hundred times, but that doesn’t mean he understands. “I’m supposed to be gettin’ a new deputy next week. When he shows, I’ll send him down your way, recruit ya another customer. Charge him a little extra if you want. He won’t know no better.”

“Thanks, Willis,” you say, and you mean it. Then you step outside into sun glare and the shrieking of cicadas.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s almost dinnertime when the phone rings. You’re heating up the turtle soup that Amir brought over earlier, stirring the pot as the sky outside turns from a crystalline blue—just like Aemond’s eye—to rust and amber and fool’s gold, as the twilight air breathes into the room warm and ancient. There’s a plump nutria nibbling on grass at the edge of the backyard. Wham’s Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go pipes from the boombox. At first you’re too startled to race for the phone—too terrified that it won’t be Aemond, too afraid to get your hopes up—and you hesitate just long enough for Cadi to answer instead.

“Hello?” she says, and then: “Yeah, school was good.”

Everything sinks in you, heart, spirit, the sweltering pressure of blood ebbing in your veins. Oh. It’s Willis.

Cadi continues chatting away obliviously. “Uh huh. Not really. We learned about robber barons and cannons of Italy. Yeah, captains of industry, that’s what I meant. Uh huh. Yup. It was okay, I guess. Yeah. Today it was pizza, but it’s always shaped like a rectangle. Exactly, no crust. It’s weird. Pepperoni. I always sit with Michelle and Erica. Erica has this totally tubular book about horses she showed us. Yup. I like the Appaloosas the most. Uh huh. Okay, I will. Yup. Bye.” Then she hands you the phone. “For you,” she says, then resumes setting the counter: cups, bowls, spoons, folded Bounty paper towels, dinner for two. You never eat at the kitchen table. The table is reserved for business.

You raise the pink phone receiver to your ear with some uncertainty. What does he want now? “Willis?”

“No,” Aemond says, amused. “Though we’ve been to some of the same places.”

You try not to let the smile fill up your face. You fail. “You were asking Cadi about her day?”

“Evidently.” You don’t know what this means; you don’t ask. “When are you free?”

“I usually have the house to myself on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.” It’s currently Monday.

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time?”

“I should be done in the bakery at around 5:00.”

“I’ll be there at 5:01.” Then Aemond hangs up. So do you, your skull suddenly abloom like springtime, colors and promise and warmth. He’s going to be here in less than 24 hours. I really am going to see him again.

You turn towards the counter. “Cadi, what are robber barons?”

“Rich people who are mean to their workers to get as much money as possible. They don’t care about others. They just want more and more and more. They’re very greedy and are never satisfied.”

“So like the Rockefellers and Standard Oil,” you say, thinking back to your high school American History class. It feels like a lifetime ago, it feels like trying to catch lightning bugs in your bare hands.

“Yeah.” Cadi pours herself a cup of Tang. She’s wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt and green corduroy pants; her father would not approve. “Or Jade Dragon Energy.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Tuesday, 5:03 p.m., rattling cicadas and golden light like the lit coil of a stove burner. You’re still scrubbing dishes, and Amir is icing the last of the orange creamsicle cupcakes for the next morning. Aemond opens the unlocked front door and strides purposefully into the kitchen: ripped jeans, red t-shirt, Converses to match, Marlboro jacket. He is carrying a neon teal duffle bag that he drops on the sloping wooden floor where the living room meets the kitchen. He is momentarily taken aback when he sees Amir, then recalls what you told him about your friend who helps run the bakery. Aemond pulls out one of the kitchen table chairs and sits. He lifts the glass lid from a cake plate, takes the last peach cobbler cupcake for himself, makes unflinching eye contact with you as he licks the frosting off it with long, slow, sensual drags of his tongue.

Amir says: “Hey Scarface, that’s $1.”

“Amir!” you scold, mortified. But Aemond doesn’t seem offended. He smirks, extracts his black leather wallet from the pocket his jeans, and fishes out four singles. He slides them across the table.

Amir sighs. “This bitch can’t even count.”

“I’m sure he can count,” you say, smiling. “He’s an engineer.”

“He’s mouth-fucking this cupcake right in front of me, he’s clearly unstable.”

Aemond looks to you. His voice is low, imposing. “I need to know what your limits are.”

“Oh my God!” Amir squeaks, bent over the table and icing as quickly as he can.

“Okay,” you tell Aemond. You rinse the pearlescent soap bubbles from your hands, wrists, forearms. Then you step out from behind the counter and watch him, remember him, imagine what will happen next.

He gives the peach cobbler cupcake another lap. Buttercream frosting coats his mischieviously curled lips and then is swiftly licked away. “Can I spank you?”

“Yes.”

Amir mutters to himself: “Grandma is never going to believe this.”

“Can I tie you up?”

“Yes.”

“Can I bite you hard enough to leave bruises?”

You pause. “Only places that will be covered by my clothes.”

“And what should you say if you ever don’t like what I’m doing?”

“I just tell you to stop.”

“Exactly.” Aemond grins. His right eye skates from your face to your chest to your hips to your thighs to your ankles, drinking you down like the earth swallows rain, like the vines and cypress trees and Sanish moss of the bayou thieve sunlight and never give it back. His left eye doesn’t move at all, though this is not something you would notice if you didn’t know to look for it. “Good girl.”

“Done!” Amir announces triumphantly, completing the swirl of frosting on the final orange creamsicle cupcake.

“Can I pull your hair?” Aemond asks you.

“Yeah, I think so. Not hard enough to yank it out though.”

Aemond scoffs. “Of course not. I don’t actually want to hurt you. That’s what some doms are after, but not me. Not here, not with you. You don’t want real pain, do you…?”

“No, definitely not,” you say, relieved.

“Brilliant. Then we’re on the same page.”

Amir could leave, but he doesn’t. His eyes dart between you and Aemond from behind his large rectangular glasses, fascinated, scandalized, too astonished to move.

Aemond continues: “Birth control?”

“I’m on the pill and have been for years. I can show you the pack if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you. I saw them in your bathroom last time I was here. I’m in the practice of using condoms regardless.” He tilts his head impishly. “Can I fuck your ass?”

“Um.” You hesitate. This is uncharted territory, though you cannot say that you are entirely unintrigued. “Maybe one day.”

“Noted. Some people find the sensation, the taboo, the fullness…quite pleasurable.”

“Do you?” Amir asks flirtatiously.

Aemond gives him a lazy, ludicrously charming smile. “Well I’ve never been on the receiving end, but I’m game to give it a try if you are.”

Amir bursts out laughing, then says to you: “He’s alright. He can commit abominable sins with you, I guess.” He stands and shakes Aemond’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Kind of.” Then he saunters off through the living room and out the front door. After a moment, you and Aemond listen to his blue Ford Escort rumble to life and then the crunching of gravel as it rolls out of the driveway. From the boombox drifts Just What I Needed by The Cars.

Aemond licks the last of the frosting from the peach cobbler cupcake and says: “Now you’re going to be the cupcake.” He crosses the kitchen, kneels down in front of you, roughly yanks down your denim shorts. He presses his face to your royal blue satin panties—hastily purchased this morning while Amir watched the shop and changed into just one hour ago in anticipation of Aemond’s arrival—and inhales deeply, desperately, like a drowning man gasping for air. Then, through the sheer fabric, he begins to tease you: nudges of his nose, nibbles of his lips.

Your fingers tangle in his short blonde hair. Blonde like the drunk man in the holding cell, you think randomly. “Aemond, why didn’t you want me last time?”

“I wanted you. I wanted you then and I want you now.”

“But I disappointed you. You didn’t finish.”

“Oh, I came,” he purrs. “Went home, got in the shower, thought of you. It didn’t take long. I would have disappointed you terribly. Woke up in the middle of the night thinking of you. Tried to miraculously get some work done yesterday while thinking of you. Crawled out of bed this morning thinking of you. Are you noticing a theme?”

You smile as his tongue presses forcefully against the satin. “I might be.”

“How many times in your life has a man treated his orgasm as essential and your own as an afterthought, if he considered it at all?”

Oh God. That’s the fucking truth. “A lot more than once.”

“So consider what we did on Sunday as one little notch in the other column. Just restoring a bit of much-needed balance to the universe.” He hooks his thumbs under your panties and tugs them off. “Open your thighs for me,” he orders as he pushes them apart with his palms: large, smooth, artful hands. You brace your own hands against the kitchen counter as he buries his face between your legs, not lapping in a tentative, exploratory sort of way but feasting on you, drowning in you, lips and tongue and then fingers that skate up the downy inside of your thigh to taunt you, enter you, fuck you expertly yet leave you wanting more of him, all of him. Your nerves are on fire, your blood is simmering. Outside the birds of prey are emerging from their liars and battle-scarred gators stalk boldly through the green prehistoric wildness of the Deep South.

What happened to his eye? you think through the lust-pink haze, knowing you cannot ask him. Aemond respects your rules. You must abide by his as well. How was he injured so gravely? Who hurt him? Did they atone for their misdeeds, did they pay the cost?

Suddenly, Aemond stands and pulls you against him by your waist, rips your yellow tank top over your head and unhooks your bra, kisses you fiercely. His mouth is dripping with you, clean mineral longing; his right eye is gleaming, famished, not just lustful but half-mad. No one else exists. No one ever has or ever will. “Go to the bed and wait for me there.”

“No.”

He spanks you once with his open palm; the sound is sharp and exquisite. “Go.” And this time you obey, counting the seconds in the dusk-lit splinter of time before he joins you.

In Aemond’s duffle bag—among other things, surely—are silk scarves the color of sapphires. First he fastens one over your eyes as a blindfold. Then he ties one around each of your wrists and binds both to the same bedpost, low enough that while your hands are kept up by your head, you still have some room to maneuver on the freshly-laundered, wildflower-patterned duvet. “Not different posts?” you ask Aemond.

“No. Tying your arms far apart like that can cause cramps in your back and your shoulders. It can even make it difficult to breathe. I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be focused entirely on what I’m doing to you.”

You moan as his fingers slip between your legs and circle over the place that makes your muscles yearn and twist and tighten until you feel they might snap, until you can imagine every string of you breaking and dissolving from the prison of flesh into water, air, gravity, the eternal silent progress of time. He bites and sucks at your nipples, flicking his tongue over them, admiring them, praising them, ravenous for them. You are enraptured by the weight of him on top of you. Without your sight, everything else is more noticeable, more real: his warmth, his sweat, his every brush of skin against yours, his smoke and cologne and gasps and sighs, the grinding of his bare cock against your thighs as he makes you ready for him. And you beg for it long before he gives it to you.

“Roll over,” he commands breathlessly, and then guides you: your fingers clutching the scarves that secure your wrists, your elbows propped on the mattress, your back arched and hips angled up towards him, his lips murmuring against your shoulder, your cheek, the side of your throat. He’s telling you so many things, perfect things, delicious things you’ll never hear enough of: how beautiful you are, how badly he wants you, how well you’re doing. There is the sound of Aemond opening a condom wrapper, and a strange sorrow ripples through you. I wish I could have him raw.

One of his hands reaches around to stroke you, keeping you soaked and supple for him. The other begins to guide his cock into your aching, starving wetness. You stretch for him, you accept him eagerly…and then there is resistance. He stills immediately and tries a slightly different angle. Nothing. He could force it, probably, but he won’t. He recedes from you, agonizing emptiness, dire unfulfillment. I’m disappointing him, he’s too big, I’m too tight, too nervous, too inexperienced at being dominated, I can’t please him. You whimper: “Aemond, I’m sorry—”

“No,” he says, more ferocious than any words you’ve ever heard from him. You are not allowed to criticize yourself. You are not allowed to give up so easily. He leans down and whispers into the shell of your ear, his ribs against your spine, his heat entombing you: “Relax. I’m in charge now. I’ll take care of you.”

You want him to. You need him to. His commandment rolls through your blood and bones like a wave, loosening those last vestiges of anxiety, shaking grim psychological heirlooms from the highest shelves. You can surrender yourself completely to Aemond. He is worthy, he is safe, he is euphoria made flesh. His fingertips are still stroking you. He pushes your thighs just a little farther apart and—slowly, cautiously—eases his cock into your throbbing warmth. He hisses in a breath, though he tries not to break character, to show you that he might just be a little bit at your mercy too.

You moan loudly and shamelessly, letting him know you’re alright, more than alright, in ecstasy, in bliss, in torment, on the edge. When Aemond thrusts, he finds a place that’s never been hit so directly or so well. The climax is on you before you are aware of it, one of those swells that rises out of nowhere, capsizes the boat, fades back into the endless blue of the ocean. It jolts through your pelvis, your spine, your skull, and then evaporates like steam from a bathroom mirror. And now Aemond is trying to finish too, but something is off. He tries a few different rhythms, can’t seem to get it right. You think you can feel him beginning to soften. No no no, I can’t leave him unsatisfied again.

You look back, though you cannot see him through the blindfold; instinctively, you want to be closer to him. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aemond says. “Nothing, nothing, nothing is wrong. You’re perfect. You’re so fucking perfect.” He turns your face so he can kiss you deeply, his tongue in your mouth, swallowing you down, entangled in every way possible. And only then he is able to come: powerfully, trembling, crying out like he’s in the kind of pain that leaves scars for life.

He glides his cock out of you, and you can hear him snap off the condom. Then he unties your blindfold and your wrists. You reach for him, then stop yourself; he reaches for you—a reflex, surely—and then shakes the notion away and collapses beside you on the duvet. You both lie there panting, gazing dizzily up at the long shadows of centuries-old oak trees that cascade across the ceiling, minds drained, bodies spent.

After a moment, Aemond clambers off the bed to grab a lighter and a pack of Marlboro Reds out of his jeans pocket. Then he flops back down next to you, lights a cigarette, takes a deep, slow drag. “So, cupcake,” he says nonchalantly, exhaling smoke, hand shaking. “Where’d you get married?”

You laugh; this is ridiculous. “Why on earth would you want to know that?”

“I want to know things about you. Things other than your tits and your pussy. I mean, those are great. I enjoy them tremendously, and I plan to keep enjoying them. But I also enjoy you.”

You sigh. Aemond waits, puffing on his cigarette. “The parish courthouse.” Plain, boring, economical. “I wanted a wedding at Saint Honoratus, but…”

“Saint…who?”

“The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens,” you say. “It’s this gorgeous place in a town called Belle River on the other side of Lake Verret. Very small, very old, it’s a historic site or something, they can’t ever knock it down.”

“Why couldn’t you get married there?”

You shrug; how much could the details matter now? Someone needed to organize it, someone needed to decorate, someone needed to pay for food and drinks, someone needed to send out invitations, someone needed to care enough to make it happen, and that someone would have been you, just you, seventeen and broke and bedridden with morning sickness until noon every day. “It just didn’t work out.”

“Sounds like a lot of things didn’t work out for you.”

You raise your eyebrows. Aemond winces.

“Sorry. That was…not the way I meant to express that sentiment.”

You forgive him. You’d forgive him for anything right now, right here, in a bed stained with his sweat and your wetness and the seed you wish he could have spilled inside you. You taunt him: “Should we meet up at your house next time?”

He recoils, horrified. “No. Definitely not.”

“Why? What’s at your house? An abandoned wife and six tall, blonde, prominently-jawed children?”

He chuckles; he has collected himself again. “No. It’s just that…well…I have family in town currently. They’re staying with me while I get set up with the new job and everything. Quite a lot of people. And my family is…unorthodox.”

You wish he would stop using words you don’t know. That’s the hazard of affiliating with a highfalutin petroleum engineer, you suppose. “So they’re strange?”

“That’s a kind word for it.”

“I like strange people. I like you.”

Aemond smirks warily. “You wouldn’t like them. Just trust me on that.” He traces the border of your face with his fingertips, contemplating your secrets, tending his own like a nightscape garden. “Do you ever want to do something…not in your bedroom?”

You grin and he kisses you, nicotine and quelled desire; he can’t help it. You say when you break away: “What, like dinner or flowers or any of the other activities that were very clearly not a part of this arrangement?”

“Arrangements are flexible.”

“Are they?”

“This one is. Increasingly so.”

You ponder his proposition. “There’s this new restaurant I really want to go to. I’ve never been before, but it looks pretty rad in the commercials on tv. It’s up in Gonzales.”

“The same town as your illustrious Kmart engagement. How fortuitous. Pease continue.”

“It’s an Italian place,” you say.

“I love Italian.”

“It’s called Olive Garden.”

Aemond’s mouth falls open. He is bewildered, appalled. His cigarette smolders forgotten in the crook of his fingers. You might as well have told him you wanted to run over puppies with lawnmowers. “You want me to take you to Olive Garden? Seriously?”

You are wounded. “What’s wrong with Olive Garden?”

“Cupcake, Olive Garden is not real Italian food. That’s like saying Taco Bell is Mexican.”

“…Isn’t it?”

“Okay,” he capitulates. He smiles as he smooths your disheveled hair and touches his lips to your forehead. “It’s fine. We’ll go to Olive Garden.”

“Really?” you reply, beaming.

“Really. You’re free Thursday?”

“Unless Willis has to switch nights for some reason, yeah.”

“Then we’ll go Thursday.” Aemond rolls off the bed and finds a mug—Return Of The Jedi, Princess Leia and the Ewoks—left on your dresser to put his cigarette out in. He looks through the screen of your open bedroom window as the sky turns ever-darker, as the moon and stars begin to rise, and he breathes in the verdant, humid, ageless witchcraft of the bayou. “You have no idea what the last few days have been like for me,” Aemond says softly, his bare back turned to you, the ridge of his spine like a road cut through a swamp or a forest or a field of sugarcane. “You have no idea how badly I needed this.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you

[spikedsoul]

Imagine the fanfic happening in the movie universe.

Honey is the maid (Human, maybe?) that takes care of Bowser, feeding him and listening to his new Peach songs. Until, one day, the songs aren't about Peach anymore.

Gently hold small husband with salad tongs-

CAN YOU IMAGINE also um I couldn't help myself. Did i get carried away? Yes! (Although I didn't include the last bit, sorry!) Hopefully I kept him in character from the movie lmao

You were used to hearing Bowser talk and sing about Peach as you made his food, did his laundry, cleaned his room like the giant manchild he was. The only time he acknowledged that you existed was when he needed to bend someone's ear about his plans (marrying Peach) and Kamek wasn't around... but you weren't complaining. It was steady work and steady pay, and you were taken care of well enough that for now, you could handle it. In fact the only regular direct interaction you had with him was bringing his food, and he usually just snatched it from you without a word.

You'd also been privy to some of his more tender moments, a mere anonymous shoulder to lament to. Over the years, you'd learned to see past the anger, past the obsession, to know he's got a heart buried deep inside that chest - if only someone could reach it. But you kept it all to yourself - he probably still didn't know your name.

And why should he? He was a king, and you were paid to be a maid, silent and invisible. And that was fine. Things didn't need to be complicated. It was a simple business transaction.

You slipped into his music room as you'd done so many times before, listening to him play as you quietly got to work tidying up around him.

Sometimes it felt like he didn't even know you were there - but that allowed you to sort of see under that spiked shell of his, so you really didn't mind. Although, he never stopped playing either way, so who knew?

"Tell me, sweetheart," you heard him rumble over the music, "what is it that keeps you here?"

You hadn't heard those lyrics before, but the spoken word style suited them.

He chuckled - well, cackled more like - as he continued playing. "So diligently taking care of my castle, and me, and never once caring to speak up. So content to stay hidden in the background. You've never recoiled from my touch or looked at me like the villain I am, nor have you let leak any of my.... hmm, less than proud moments. So tell me, my sweet little handmaiden, do you think you're invisible to me?"

You dropped your broom in shock and spun around to see him, but he wasn't anywhere in sight. The only sound that echoed through the chamber now was the clatter of the broom handle hitting the floor.

What the fuck just happened? Did you hallucinate all of that just now? Your wide eyes swept the room in front of you, your mouth hanging open; it's been a while since you'd been on a proper vacation, so maybe you had imagined it...

With a quiet sigh, you turned around to pick up your broom - only to be met with a massive, scaly paw wrapping gently around your throat, clawed thumb forcing your head back by your chin. Your face flushed brightly as you stared doe-eyed right into King Bowser's grinning face.

"L-Lord Bowser," you stammered, absolutely ashamed of how you felt about his warm hand encompassing your neck so easily. Through all your interactions, this was the first time you'd ever touched him, and you had to admit his scales were smoother than you'd expected.

His eyes narrowed as he watched you, his nostrils fluttering as he dragged you a little closer to him. That terrible, beautiful grin didn't leave him.

"My silent little human minion," he purred; his breath wafted over your face, the smell of woodsmoke heavy in your nose. "I've been thinking a lot lately, you know.... about you. About us. About what could be..."

"Wh-what can I do for you, sir?" Your voice quivered and you could feel your throat bob against his hand when you swallowed; his not so subtle implications were making you dizzy.

He hummed, bringing his free hand up to drag his claws through your locks. "I want you to tell me about me. I want to know what a mere human like you thinks of the great Lord Bowser - and I want your true feelings, got it?" he growled quietly. "You've seen more of me than even Kamek is privy to, and I demand to know why you stick around."

You resisted the urge to let out a sigh; he was just fishing for compliments, thank God, despite his thinly veiled threat. If you actually told him the truth, you feared you'd end up dead. Not that you really had bad things to say! Bowser was just a little unpredictable sometimes.

You brought your hands up to lightly rest them over the one that held your throat, but you didn't try pulling away one way or another. That seemed to confuse Bowser, his head tilting to the side as his grin slowly faded.

"Well, sir," you murmured, slowly relaxing, "even though you desire to dominate other kingdoms and crush your enemies... you still seem like you would treat your allies well. I mean, look at me: I'm a lowly maid, but I get paid well and I feel relatively protected on the occasion things get a little... ah, rough. As fierce as you are... I don't feel like I need to fear you, exactly. Which is a good thing as your employee."

Bowser's pupils dilated slightly as he seemed to consider your words. You just hoped they were honeyed enough to appease him instead of set him off, but either way you'd find out in a few seconds.

"...That ain't all, is it?" he finally huffed. "I know you got more opinions on me than that political shit you just spouted, so tell me. Promise I won't get mad." And then he gave you the best puppy dog eyes you'd ever seen.

Oh, heavens help you. There was zero reason for this koopa to be so.... cute.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and then practically blurted out one of your deepest feelings about him: "Sometimes you seem like you could use a real hug and a caring friend."

His jaw dropped as he stared at you in surprise. You stared right back at him, just as surprised that that's what came out.

The silence between the two of you stretched on until you couldn't bear it anymore and you finally turned around, chiming, "M-maybe I should get back to work-"

"Wait!" Before you could even blink, Bowser snatched you off your feet, holding you up in the air like he was afraid you'd try to run.

You blinked at him, a little surprised. "...Yessir?" you asked calmly despite the blush threatening to return. Momentarily, all he did was stare at you a little dumbly before recollecting himself a little.

"I-I, uh, just thought - I mean, if you wanted to give me a real hug, I'd - I'd allow that. And the... friend thing..."

Ah, you knew that code. He wanted a hug, but he didn't want to seem like he wanted it. Poor guy.

"...You know what, now that I think about it, I think a hug would be real nice. How about you let me know every time you're in the mood to allow me to hug you, huh?" you murmured. "And if you'd like me to-"

Bowser nodded, and without hesitation (or letting you finish) he held you to his wide chest, pressing your face right against it. Unfortunately your arms were pinned to your sides so you couldn't really hug back, but you could still feel some of the tension leak out of his body when he realized you weren't squirming or trying to get away.

"You know..." The vibration of his deep voice made your head buzz pleasantly, pressed against his chest as it was. "Between you and me, maybe Peach is just a siren trying to lure me into a false love, using her pretty face to keep me from seeing someone who'd really care about me..."

Since he couldn't see your face, you rolled your eyes. "Then does this mean you have your eyes suddenly set on someone else, sir?" you asked politely.

He set you back on your feet and crouched so that his face was level with yours, his large hands keeping a gentle hold of yours. "I don't know if "suddenly" is the right word... there's been a slow realization over a few years, but I suppose I'm finally ready to give up on Peach in favor of a more promising potential."

You smiled a little, daring to reach out; Bowser's eyes watched your hand as it fell gently on his nose. His pupils blew wide. Although you opened your mouth to say something, it was then that it dawned on you that Bowser wasn't actually crouching - he was kneeling.

"B-Bowser?" you breathed as, once again, your face grew hot with the intensity of your blush. But even as you stared at that adorably sweet face he was making, the sincerity and silent plea for some sort of consensual companionship was almost overwhelming.

"I'm gonna make you my bride one way or another... sweetheart."

#bowser #bowser x y/n #bowser x reader #super mario bros #ficlet #fanfiction #fanfic #I HOPE Y'ALL LIKED IT

[jmdbjk]

Praise and worship

I finally figured out the meaning of the Standing Next to You MV!!

But first, did Kookie wax his pits or does he always have that landing strip of hair there?

Anyway, sorry for the immediate digression but you know it is imperative to dissect everything, even pit hair.

Back to the MV...

The opening scenes include this very non-inclusive sign:

Only limos, no sportscars, SUVs, pick up trucks, family sedans or mopeds welcome here. They are keeping the riff-raff out. ONLY LIMOS THEY SAID CAN'T YOU READ THE SIGN?

Obviously makes sense when we see this dystopian scene where less than a dozen people are walking around inside some sort of derelict compound. A FORTRESS FOR ONLY THE STRETCH LIMO PREFERRING POPULATION!

Incidentally, stretch limos represent 1 percent of the options available from limo companies in the U.S. (I googled it).

Amazing that they found this many in Budapest.

What was once a sign of affluence has now fallen on hard times... hence the decrepit dystopia pictured above.

Enter our female antagonist. Who does she represent? I'll get to that later...

Our antagonist is antagonizing beautifully throughout but starts off antagonistically in her leather coatdress and 1980's heavy black eyeliner and bobbed hair. After all, the song is a throwback to that era of the late 70's/early 80's. All she is missing is the peach blush in the hollows of her cheeks. Hand me a Maybelline Blooming Colors Blush Palette and I'll fix it.

Then the dark angel makes his appearance. Ah, yes, sweet angel, come closer.

I think he has come down or up from where ever dark angels habitate in order to correct an injustice... the injustice being the duck-billed cups of this atrociously antagonistic dress our antagonist is made to wear:

For real... they couldn't find a better fitting dress? At least grab a roll of toilet paper and stuff those titty cups to fill them out? They are so sad and droopy looking... props to her Maybelline Expert Eyes Turquoise eye shadow though.

I suppose the stacked pancakes... I mean bra cups... could have meant to be an homage to another 80's icon: Madonna and her cone shaped bra... but ... nah... try again. They look like hamburgers. Now I can't unsee it. So, so sad.

We do a lil spin and our protagonist spins himself up into a jewel encrusted, crotch grabbing, finger pointing master of his game.

I think he's here to conduct a worship service.

It's time to be churched:

Stretch limos (because no riff-raff remember?) enter the opening in a temple-of-Petra-like giant wall emblazoned with JK's sacred heart logo. Very symbolic.

In they go to gather for worship. Others sit in theatre seats while Ms. Antagonist sits on the car like a hood ornament.

So... who is she and what's going on here?

No clue. She sits haughtily and antagonistically on her outdated stretch limo, while her little minions sit in the rows watching the object of their desire preaching the holy choreography.

However, Mr. Protagonist is about to really lay down the religion.

But first, gratuitous shot of Kookie prancing in heeled chelsea boots.

Back to religion... the religion of Bangtan dance... one of these is not like the other.

(*covers Hobi-hyung's eyes* Don't look its too painful.)

Did they not monitor this mess?

I don't meant to be disrespectful and I know these guys are some of the best dancers in the industry but next to Jungkook, they look like a herd of elephants. Just sayin'.

Anyway, Protagonist proceeds to become angry at the sloppy choreo and all the limo drivers gather for a gang-brawl in the middle of the church. Probably arguing over the spelling of chauffeur. I couldn't find an urban slang reference for limo, limousine or limo driver. I'm sure some exist but being the innocent thing I am, I don't know what they are.

Mr. Protagonist brings down the wrath and puts the fear of Hobi into his crew:

Then the climax of the whole darn thing: a dance break. Holy communion commences with serious thrusting into crotch grabs (some are enjoying it more than others):

Service concludes and I wonder how many takes before they got one where Kookie didn't bust out laughing with his bunny giggle?

But seriously, the MV does seem to be an homage to an era where Michael Jackson thrilled us with his brilliant music and dancing. Jungkook is continuing to pull us and BTS as a group along, forging new paths for them in the music industry. Like Kookie, I am anxious for them to reunite and get back on that stage together. And like Yoongi, I too believe they will devour the world.

(It's humor, y'all.)

#worship at the altar of jungkook #its humor #sarcasm #parody #its not serious #i apologize if i offended anyone #however Bangtan Church of Choreography is very serious #standing next to you #jungkook golden #looking forward to a choreo performance mv please

[mtkay13]

Qi Ye ensemble cast poster, second edition

Yet another one of those LOL Qi Ye just has that power over me. You know the drill; more info below!

I'll go straight to the point: my main reason to draw this was because I wanted to draw the most somber, dark-looking Helian Qi possible with some dark cross-hatching effect. And because I don't want to draw a Helian Qi solo image because who the HELL does that, I had to turn it into an ensemble cast thing again. I just REALLY like to do that for Qi Ye, for some reasons!!! For a general note, first: shading was a PAIN but making a nice composition and thinking about how to make a hierarchy that both works in terms of storytelling and visual composition was fun. I also liked finding out the "color scheme" to use and I do like lineart. So, now, little notes about each character, and the obligatory name poster just so I'm sure we all know whom I'm talking about:

Jing Beiyuan: I've mentioned it before but drawing Beiyuan is like. The easiest for me, I think, out of ALL Qi Ye/TYK characters combined. He happens to have my general goto "pretty face" (which conveniently has peach blossom eyes). I'm happy with how he turned out here! And got to put the sable around his neck which makes for a nice additional touch. Helian Yi: He's easy to draw as well and I'm glad with how the guan turned out. He initally looked sideways, but I liked it better having him wistfully stare into the distance. Helian Zhao: has the exact same face as in the other, coloured poster, and that cracks me up bc that wasn't even intentional. Helian Pei: GDI I find him so hilarious. He looks so done and out of it. Shout out to all his bird as well, which, I find, really complete the look. Helian Qi: I can't possibly say that I love him as an antagonist because there's nothing to love about this literal trash, but I'm still grateful that we got some of the most rancid stuff going on in Qi Ye just because of him and I'm always here for that. He deserves the villain visual treatment, at least. He was VERY fun to draw and I tried to push that nasty grin and shading as much as possible. He turned out exactly how I wanted him to! (the shading on his face and the balance of light and shadow was a bit of a challenge, actually)

Wuxi: Again, a rather easy one, always pleasant to draw! I loved working on his hair (but complained a lot while doing so)--which I think turned out nicely. Bai Wuchang: Finally! Finally I draw him!! He had to be there, since he's like. The base of the whole Qi Ye plot. Lining him was....... a pain, but at least it looks nice.

Su Qingluan: nothing much to say--I think it's always important to have her there in Qi Ye stuff, and I put her next to Helian Zhao because of how he tried using her--but it did make me feel bad for her when I realised that. Song Ping'an: The real star of the show, lowkey, but always alert and present. Feng Xiaoshu: FINALLY. PRINCESS JING'AN. I'm sorry I took so long to draw her. I want to work on a proper design, I swear. To make up for having completely forgotten to include her in the other spread. I'm so sorry. I like how her face turned out! Liang Jiuxiao: I never, ever, EVER get enough of drawing him. Have I mentioned how much I like him? How much of a great surprise he was reading Qi Ye? How many times I've wanted to high five because finally someone is as confused as I am? I love drawing this very specific smile on him, SO satisfying. Also Bichen said he was "THE Qi Ye antagonist" and I live for that LOL Zhou Zishu: do I really need to say anything atp Jiang Xue: I'm so sorry I put Xiao Xue next to ZZS. The cruelty. But she came out really cute didn't she T_T Anyway that's it. I'm still obsessed with Qi Ye and given my current (totally secret) retranslation project I'm nowhere near done going crazy about this book.

#qi ye #jing beiyuan #wuxi #bai wuchang #helian yi #helian pei #helian zhao #helian qi #su qingluan #ping'an #princess jing'an #liang jiuxiao #zhou zishu #jiang xue

[cain-speaks]

❣ 𝘾𝙍𝙐𝙎𝙃 ❣ || Wukong x Reader Oneshot

» crush (ethel cain) « 0:21 ─〇───── 3:20

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ One day I'll decide how I wanna format shit lmao. ➤ This is a oneshot. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader is gender neutral (except for one use of "maiden" in reference to you). ➤ This oneshot includes Dragonhead/Triad!Wukong, who is apart of the Triad AU belonging to @skittlescripts! ➤ This oneshot in based off @dumplingsjinson's 4th unrequited-but-not-actually-unrequited-love prompt!! I originally had it here but decided to delete it incase you'd like to go into this kinda blind lol. ➤ If this is dumb I'm sorry I haven't had a genuine crush since like 2nd grade /gen. Also romance is NOT my strongsuit despite how much I read LMAO. ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include profanity, denial of feelings, avoidance, lying, self-deprecation, angst, and crying. ➤ Word count: 4,300

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❝ Camo jacket, robbing corner stores; hard odds to beat when you're on all fours .❞

You didn't want this.

You didn't want this.

It started off innocently enough—a blush when you caught the Great Sage's eye, a bit of a tremble to your voice or your knees when his hand brushed yours, squealing into your pillows when he gave you gifts. Embarrassing reactions, yes, but not surprising. Afterall, whole gods have found themselves swooning for the Monkey King even if they've a snowball's chance in hell at actually gaining his affections—what chance did your mortal self stand against the demon's wicked charm? But surely your little... celebrity crush didn't mean anything significant.

Except it did.

You barely ever had crushes growing up, much less attractions so passionate you could call them love. But with Wukong, it came far too easily. You loved the way he spoke, the way he held himself, the way he managed to create a community of loyal allies despite his many enemies. But then you also loved the simple things—his real laugh, the one that made him clutch his stomach and cackle until tears were dripping from his eyes; the way his tail swayed like a dog's and curled into a heart when he was excited; the way he smelt of peaches and flowers, as if he was a whole world just for you to—

No!

No, no, no!

This is how the greatest friendships crashed and burned. An insistent crush and a hopeful heart and a two-timing brain poisoning you with sweet what-ifs and flowery dreams is all it takes for you to make one irreversible, permanent step; for you to pour your heart out only to hear we can still be friends! and watch him drift away.

Well, not you. You weren't going to risk breaking your heart nor your and Wukong's friendship over a crush, no matter how serious. So after many sleepless nights of brainstorming (and daydreaming... goddamnit, brain!), you finally devised a plan to squash your feelings for the Monkey King.

1.) Create distance physically.

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, fighting the urge to scratch angry red blotches into the skin while you wait for Wukong to pick up your call. You thought this method would be easiest for enacting Step 1, hoping Wukong and Macaque wouldn't be able to pick out any lies over the phone, but with how long it's taking him to answer, maybe it'd be easier to avoid him the hard way—

"Hey, peaches!" Wukong's cheery voice greets over the line, making you huff in relief. "What's up? You're not calling to ask if you can come up, right? Because you know I've told you you can just come, riiighttt?"

Your heart swoons ridiculously, and you have to aggressively remind yourself that hanging out with Wukong is the exact opposite of what you want to achieve.

"Yessss, I remember," you force out in a nasally, cracking voice that you pray sounds convincing. "But no, that's not why I'm calling."

"Oh, peaches, are you sick?" Wukong asks worriedly, and you can feel his furrowed eyebrows through the phone.

"No," you snark, and then you force out some rough-sounding coughs, grimacing at the way your throat stings. "This happens every year. Sometime near spring I get super sick for like a month—might be the pollen or something, I dunno."

"I never noticed," Wukong replies softly. "I'm sorry, peaches. I woulda helped you before if I'd realized."

Your heart flips again and you lean away from the phone to form a silent scream before returning. "It's—cough—fine. I'm a big girl, a little springtime bug isn't going to kill me. But it is gonna keep me in my house for a few weeks."

"In that case, why don't I let Macaque handle things for a bit and come over—"

"No!" You snap out, your hand immediately smacking over your mouth at the outburst. Fuck! You think, mind racing to recover from your fumble. You let out a series of coughs as you think, then lick your lips. "S-Sorry... while it means a lot that you'd do that for me, when I get like this... it's just easier to handle it alone. I don't really have the energy to be around people or have them around me."

You cross your fingers, your opposite hand gripping your clothes in a white-knuckle grip as a few beats of silence pass. God, let him believe me so I can hang up—

"Alright, peaches," Wukong replies softly, and you have to lean back so he won't hear the relieved huff of air you let out. You're so busy rejoicing you nearly miss what he says next. "But I'm still going to drop food off to you, alright?" Seeming to sense a coming argument from you, he adds, "I'll just drop it off at your door and send you a message."

You sigh, a small smile forcing it's way on to your face despite the situation still not being as perfect as you'd hoped for. "Guess I can't stop you, sunshine."

"Nope!" Wukong laughs, popping the p. "Get well soon! Who knows what mischief I'll be up to without my angel to keep me on the path of grace?" He cooes with a subtle purr to his words. A wild blush blooms on your face, burning your ear tips as you soak in what he said.

"You're supposed to be able to do that on your own, Great Sage," you croak out, burying your flushed face in your unused hand even though the cheeky monkey isn't here to see it.

"What's the fun in that?" Wukong snickers. Then his voice softens, squeezing your heart. "But seriously, take care of yourself, peaches. If you need space, that's fine, but if you need help, ask. There's nothing you could do that would chase me away."

What he says is sweet, so sweet, and dream-like. His words make you think of a fairytale, with you a fair maiden and him a brave, persistent, dragon-slaying knight.

But life's not a fairytale, and things won't go your way just because you wish on a star.

"Will do, Wuks," you say quietly. "Bye."

"Bye, peaches."

Beep-beep.

Step 1... achieved.

2.) Create distance emotionally.

You couldn't just get rid of your crush (well, you probably could, but that'd entail some magical mumbo jumbo you're not quite desperate enough for yet), but maybe you could weaken it by limiting how much exposure you had to Wukong. Hard, considering how popular he was, but surely not impossible!

So, to start off easy, you got rid of your merch. You were able to sell most of it online, but the more stuff you got rid of, the more... upset you felt. Which made sense, sure—it was stuff you loved, of course, and if you hadn't fallen in love with one of your best friends, you'd never part with it—, but your thoughts felt... insane. You found yourself wondering if people would take care of it, if they'd love it and find the same joy in it that you did.

The idea of someone doing anything less made your skin crawl, and for a few brief moments, you considered doing full deep dives on buyers to make sure the merch was going to a good home. Then you reasoned you sounded absolutely obnoxious, like some creepy fangirl and not a close friend of Sun Wukong, and gave the rest away without any further hesitance.

Goddamn, did it sting though.

True to his word, Wukong stopped by your house once every few days with food and medicine. At first, you were worried he'd try to talk to you or ask to come in, but the only way you even knew he'd been there was when he alerted you with a message. You were grateful for it, but words couldn't describe the relief you had that he left no gifts in the bags.

If he had, that might have set you right back to square one.

Your house felt... empty without Wukong's memorabilia, but you chopped it up to your distaste for change. Obviously the nearly crippling discomfort in your own home was because of the now-barren walls (no way it was because you'd just given away dozens of priceless items...), so you bought some pretty posters of bands, artists, and games you liked and hung them on the wall. It wasn't the same, but you supposed that within time, it'd become your new normal.

You decided to ignore the way that settled on your body like gloomy fog.

Now... for the harder part.

Aside from merch, Wukong had gotten you plenty of personal items. Clothes, jewelry, perfumes, cooking utensils you'd been eyeing, plushies, that sort of thing. You knew just by looking at it that it was expensive, probably things that would land you in debt for life if you'd bought it yourself, and rare, too. Likely some one-of-a-kind stuff, knowing Wukong.

You spent three nights despairing over what to do with them. Giving them away to the masses felt disrespectful to say the least, and with the way your heart shrieked, you decided to listen. Throwing them out didn't feel much better, neither did burying them (yeah... you were thinking of everything)... but you couldn't keep them. No, no, no, it'd just encourage your stupid crush if you caved and kept anything, especially the personal stuff!

So you did the only thing you could think of: give it to your family.

It still didn't feel great either way, but at least you knew they were being cared for. And if Wukong happened to ask for any of it back, it'd be easy to retrieve.

You expect to feel relieved at having found a solution, but it only fills you with dread.

All that's left are the notes.

You keep them in a pretty box in your desk. It's a deep red covered in bright splashes of color meant to resemble fireworks, with bright iron hinges on the back so it could open and close. It's perfectly pristine without so much a speck of dust upon it, its well-cared-for appearance taunting you as you lift it out of its drawer and sit on your bed.

You know you shouldn't look at them, but it's not like it'll change anything—you already have them memorized by heart, anyway.

Dear (name), "Sunshine", huh? Can't say it reflects much of who I am as an infamous, invincible god, but I'll take it over "simian" anyday! I think I'll call you "peaches" in return. It has a nice ring, doesn't it? Sunshine and peaches. Like two peas in a pod. Anyway. I hope you like the clothes!

You laugh softly as you read the note. This had been after you mistakenly let your unspoken nickname for him slip after one of his meetings, flustering both you and the unprepared Dragonhead. Despite your furious blush and profuse apologies, Wukong had made you explain your reasoning behind the nickname (which was mostly Macaque's fault—damn him and his "sun and moon" bullshit). You were mortified, thinking you'd set your and Wukong's relationship way back, but when he started calling you peaches...

Sunshine stuck, and you two really did become peas in a pod.

You've torn through the whole box of notes by the time you realize there are tears running down your cheeks. When realization hits, you bend over and press your hands to your face, open-mouthed sobs wracking your body.

Why'd it have to be him? You could've fallen hopelessly in love with anyone, and your heart chose him?

Wukong isn't the problem. No, not at all. Next to you, the Monkey King seems wild, volatile, too much. But that's only because you're a, well, mortal, incapable of shining even half as brightly as he does. Wukong's a god, an immortal king, a being who'd felled thousands in mere moments—your best friend deserves someone who could meet him at his level, not force him into some domestic role.

Someone better than you.

The thought sends a sharp wave rocking through your chest, but with it comes some rush of desperation—you don't know if it's to fight for or against something, but it leads you to pluck one of the notes from its place on the bed,

turn it over so you can't see the words,

and fucking shred it.

That night, as you lie amongst the torn pieces of paper, you can't help but feel like a sole survivor among a ruined city.

Step 2 is done.

3.) Find somebody else.

You have to admit, Step 3 was definitely a desperate plan B if nothing else worked, and, well...

Nothing else was working.

Your "sick" month had passed, and you were now three months into cold-turkeying Wukong. You were honestly surprised the Monkey King hadn't broken into your house yet, but based on some demon conflicts you'd seen on the news, you figured he was busy.

But that wasn't the problem. What was the problem was your crush hadn't waned in the slightest! In fact, your attempts to get rid of it had only made you want to run further into Wukong's arms, where you'd be drowned in the scent of peaches and flowers and the feeling of soft fur and a strong body against yours and—

Goddamnit!

Part of you felt... tired; sick of what you perceived as dramatic and begging for a break from the heartache. It whispered to you, questioning how good Wukong was to keep around if he would cut you loose just for a crush—even saying that it'd be good for you! Save you the trouble and put you on the path of healing before it got real bad... whatever that meant.

But the other half of you fought and it fought hard. You wanted Wukong, even if it meant you could only have him as a friend. He made you feel good and you'd die before giving that up—that was why you'd started this whole mess in the first place!

Besides. You were a mortal, temporary and simple. And adaptable and well-aged as he was, Wukong was still a several-millennium old god. Rules, unspoken or otherwise, were bound to look different for various relationships, and as far as you were concerned, falling head-over-heels, squealing-into-your-pillows and feet-kicking in love with one you called your best friend was written in big red letters right under no.

So you're here at a café (far away from Wukong's headquarters, you made sure), sitting across from... your date.

They're gorgeous. With fawn-colored skin, soft brown eyes, and blonde, orange dipped wavy hair, they make you think of summer, of singing birds and beach days and ice cream in the park. And they're sweet, easily cracking jokes with you and complimenting you without overwhelming you.

But they're not Wukong, and the way you remain acutely aware of that as you share sweet treats with them destroys any hope you had of growing out of this crush.

You're trying to think of ways to let them down gently when you hear the door chime go off. A new customer isn't earth-shattering (it's a public establishment, after all), but a chorus of sharp gasps and your date's frightened stare looking past you makes you turn.

And, god, you wish you hadn't.

Wukong walks into the café calmly, his face unreadable as he scans the booths. You're fairly certain you already know why he's here, but when his eyes meet yours you just know you're fucked.

The café owner bee-lines to Wukong. "G-Great Sage!" They greet, bowing low. "What brings you here?"

Wukong doesn't break eye contact with you. "Nothing to do with you," he answers smoothly before approaching you in long strides.

You can do nothing but watch as he approaches, pinning your tongue between your teeth as you hold the intensity of his stare. Your date, seemingly noticing the tension between you two, reaches out to grasp your hand, but you gently pull away with a shake of your head.

"I'm sorry," you whisper sincerely, sliding enough money for the meal towards them just before Wukong reaches your booth.

The monkey eyes your date, unblinking. If this was any other situation (one where you hadn't avoided him for three months), you'd give him a gentle kick to the leg or something so he'd knock it off. But the situation is too tense, his presence too damning, and you're grateful for the few seconds you get from out beneath the demon's fiery gaze.

"Peaches," he finally murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "We need to talk."

Fuck.

You get up without a word, placing your purse over your shoulder and heading towards the front door with your eyes on your feet. You can feel everyone's eyes on you—or rather, the two of you, as Wukong walks beside you until you reach the door, which he opens for you. Then he follows you out, staying just far enough behind you that he doesn't step on your heels.

Neither of you speak until you get to a bridge, void of people and surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Wukong stops beside you as you peer over the edge.

"Peaches," he says, his voice still soft. "What's going on?"

Fuck.

You immediately deflect. "How did you find me?"

You hear him suck in a breath.

"How?" You hiss out, glaring up at him.

He stares at you in silence for a moment, then turns on his phone. As he presses a button, your phone vibrates in your hand.

"You tracked my phone?" You ask, blinking owlishly.

"You weren't answering me," replies Wukong simply, pocketing his phone again.

Your face flushes in frustration. "I was out—"

"For three months?"

That makes you go silent. Your phone vibrates again, making the screen light up. You can see Wukong's name in your notifications, but you dare not look to see how many there are, lest it condemn you further.

"You know, I went to your house," Wukong carries on, his voice thickening. "All the stuff I got you is gone."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

"Yeah," you mumble, your gaze falling to the ground.

"Why? Did you not like it?"

You're torn between honesty and further denial. In the end, Wukong speaks before you can make a choice.

"You didn't throw out the notes."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"It took—" his voice chokes out for a second. Your body tenses, your hands turning to white-knuckled fists at your sides. You don't look up. "It took a lot to put them together, surprisingly. Were really dedicated when you tore 'em up, huh?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Did you lie about being sick? Did you... were you just trying to get away from me?"

"It's not like that," you say, rushed, and you know as soon as the words leave your lips that you shouldn't have spoken.

"Then what is it like?" Wukong chokes out in a thick voice, but you still refuse to look him in the eye.

"I... needed alone time," you mumble.

"Why couldn't you say that?" Wukong replies, a bit of sharpness to his tone, and you can't help but feel like you've opened up the floodgates. "Do I make you feel so unsafe that you'll lie to get away from me?"

"Don't assume things about me," you snap hotly, your eyes flickering to his. They glow with a subtle red color, fixated on you, a testament to his growing emotion in the situation. But that's not what gets you.

It's the tears collecting in his eyes.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

"What else am I supposed to do?" He grits out. "You ignored me for three months. You didn't even text back to say if you were still sick, or if you just wanted me to stop contacting you—"

"Wukong, I—" you try, taking a step backward when the monkey flings his arms.

"And you didn't answer MK or Macaque, either!"

"Wukong—"

"You scared the shit out of me, peaches!"

"And I'm sorry for that," you bite out, managing to shut him up for a minute. You gulp, your grip on your purse tightening. "But I had... I have a problem I have to fix—"

"What is it? If you would just tell me I could help!" Wukong exclaims, reaching towards you.

"No!" You shout, twisting away from him. "You can't help, Wukong!"

"You don't know that!"

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

"I do! I do know that!"

"How?! How could—"

"BECAUSE HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA FIX ME LOVING YOU?"

Wukong falls silent. Still. Your hands slap over your mouth.

The two of you stand in silence for what feels like forever. The river feels deathly silent, and not even the wind blows. Finally, you remove your hands.

"I-I mean, I can fix it, don't worry," you say quickly, the words spilling from your lips like water. "T-These feelings are temporary, I promise. They're just, uh, a b-bit more stubborn than I was expecting, y-y'know? But they're nothing serious, I swear! I-I know I've been difficult these past few months, I know, I'm sorry, just, please, Wukong, don't leav—"

"They're what?" is all Wukong utters, his stare burning through you.

You startle for a second, hands dropping to your chest. "T-They're temporary," you repeat. "Not serious, I swear. Nothing has to change."

Wukong doesn't reply at first. Then:

"What if I want them to be serious?"

Your heart nearly stops in your chest at the force of your surprise. "What?" is all you can get out, staring owlishly at the demon.

"I said," he speaks slowly, stepping towards you. "What if I want them to be serious? To be permanent? What if I want you to be head over heels for me, hm?"

You shiver as he stands before you, hands ghosting over your hips.

"What if I want it all to change, peaches?"

Your heart thumps in your chest, your mind desperately trying to make sense of what he's saying.

Surely he's not... he doesn't mean...

"I don't understand," you whisper, your hands hesitantly pressing against his chest.

"Oh, peaches," he cooes softly, leaning in until his forehead rests against your's and all you can see are his eyes.

"Wu—"

"I love you, (name)."

Your breath catches in your throat, your mouth falling open in shock. Your entire body freezes, your thoughts halted as you process his words...

and then your heart soars.

"Me?" You crack out, a blush warming your skin exponentially. It's a bit overwhelming, the mix of love, surprise, and unfiltered relief. So much so that you can't stop the tears from building up in your eyes and slipping out as you stare up at him. "You love me?"

"Of course," Wukong says softly, his fingers reaching up to brush your tears away. "How couldn't I?"

A sob leaves your mouth at the question. "'C-Cause you're... I'm—"

"Simple?" Wukong ventures, frowning at your nod. He huffs, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "Peaches, you are anything but simple. You're brilliant and talented and witty and a quick-learner. You keep me guessing even now, and I've been around for a while," he soothes sweetly, a breath of laughter to his voice.

You can't help but laugh a little with him, your heart swelling at his compliments. Your hands slide up his chest and his neck, feeling the soft fur slide through your fingers, and settle on his cheeks. You mirror him then, your thumbs petting his cheek bones and brushing away the wetness in his eyes. Another wave of fresh tears overcomes you when he leans into your hands.

"You're the closest thing to perfection I've ever seen," Wukong murmurs emotionally, one of his hands retracting to engulf one of your's. "You're my girl. My peach. My qíng rén."

A sob breaks free of your lips again as you pull Wukong against you, hiding your face in his chest as you cry. The Dragonhead curls around you, as if shielding you from the outside world, which you're thankful for.

Damn. All of this to find out the great Monkey King loves you back? You're not complaining, god no! Despite your tears, your heart is doing tricks, somersaults and great leaps and cartwheels. It's just...

You definitely have some communication skills to work on, you think.

That can wait, though, you think then, your crying finally tapering out. You manage to tilt your head enough to see Wukong's face, the demon smiling down sweetly at you. Your fingers fiddle with his tie for a moment before drifting upwards and holding his face again.

"Peaches," Wukong calls softly, holding your gaze. "What're you thinking?"

You pause before answering. "I... I want to kiss you," you admit, watching the monkey's face turn a red hue similar to your's. "Can I?"

His ears wiggle, his nose twitches, and then he nods, and you can feel his tail wagging by your legs.

The time for picking on his adorable monkey mannerisms will come later, because right now all you're focused on is bringing Wukong's lips to yours and finally knowing how it feels to kiss the Great Sage.

It's done at an awkward angle since Wukong didn't let you go, the both of you straining a bit to meet each other in the middle, and you break away fast, but it's perfect to you. Maybe not how you imagined a requited crush kiss going, but it's your greatest wish come true in spite of that.

"I love you," he breathes.

Your breath catches again, your heart still flipping ecstatically. "Say it again."

Wukong grins, fangs peeking out of his smile. "I love you, qíng rén."

As you bring the Dragonhead into another kiss, you think of one thing.

Maybe fairytales do exist after all.

❝ Good men die too, so I'd rather be with you .❞

#cain speaks #[ 🧨 ] #cain writes #[ 🩸 ] #lmk sun wukong #lmk monkey king #sun wukong x reader #sun wukong x y/n #monkey king x reader #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid x y/n #monkie kid #monkie kid x reader #lmk #lmk x reader #lmk x y/n #rahh kiss scenes/romance #i haven't done them before besties be gentle BGFDBFD #august note: it's nothing new i'm just moving stuff onto blogs to organize

[ponett]

I have now finally seen the Mario movie. It was Pretty Good. Here are my wordy thoughts on it. (I am going to spoil the entire movie. Duh.)

In many ways, the Mario movie does what I wish the first Sonic movie had done. They just took the characters and the premise and the world from the games, and made it a straightforward animated adventure movie. It's bright and colorful and remixes things JUST enough to include fun elements from multiple games, and it doesn't make Mario get adopted by James Marsden or whatever. It even has the music!

That's all you really need, right? Right...?

I'll get this out of the way up front. Chris Pratt was fine. He's fine

If anything, it really feels like they did the movie a disservice by letting us hear so little of the Mario voice in the previews. It took one scene for Pratt to disappear into the role for me. It was totally fine. If anything, I found Charlie Day's normal voice coming out of Luigi WAY more distracting, even if I did like him in the role.

Everyone else was pretty good, for the most part. Jack Black was obviously very good as Bowser, but I'm biased. Seth Rogen does the Seth Rogen laughs as Donkey Kong, but I thought DK was fun, too. (I liked his little rivalry with Mario where he was just constantly giving him shit.) The only casting choice I truly hated was Fred Armisen as Cranky Kong. I hated every line that came out of his mouth. He sounds atrocious. Just the worst. I swear to fucking god if they do a DKC movie and we have to hear him for 90 minutes

I did think Peach was lacking, but that was on the script, not Anya Taylor-Joy's performance. It's cool to see Peach fight, but it's one of those all too common instances where the writers put so much effort into making the main girl kick ass and be an effortlessly confident girlboss that they forgot to give her an actual personality. Not that I'd point to Super Princess Peach and its mood swing superpowers as positive representation or anything, but there's a happy middle ground, surely. Shrek was 22 years ago, just having the princess do flying kung fu kicks isn't enough.

Okay. With the voices out of the way, let's talk about the big picture:

It's way better than the words "Illumination Mario movie" implied, and I mostly enjoyed my time with it. The spirit of Mario is there 100%. But I'd also describe it as "ruthlessly efficient."

This was perhaps the main complaint critics had, and they were absolutely right. People have responded to these totally average reviews with "Well, what did you expect? Shakespeare?! It's MARIO!!" Like, yes, I would prefer it if the movie I paid to see had writing that was good instead of bad. What a shocker. My issue isn't that it's not "high-brow" enough. The problem is that it feels mercenary. It feels like an editor went through and deleted almost every line of dialogue that isn't some form of exposition, at the expense of the pacing. Any scene that's not a montage or some sort of action is kept as short as they could make it, with barely any room for embellishment, character interaction, or anything other than the bare minimum word count to hit all the typical Save the Cat Hollywood screenwriting 101 story beats to the letter. There aren't even as many jokes as you might think (and the ones that are there are extremely hit or miss, including a lot of the slapstick with Mario himself).

Mario and Peach's little arc together in the front half of the film is probably the worst example of this pacing. Even having read reviews that complained about how fast Peach goes from meeting Mario (by her admission the first other human she's ever met) to deciding to train him as the new savior of the Mushroom Kingdom, I was SHOCKED at how fast it was. They don't even lampshade it.

Peach takes Mario straight into the big training sequence where he learns how to use mushrooms and jump over platforming obstacles. Peach is apparently already a hypercompetent platforming pro and a great fighter, so there's no clear reason why she's taking the time to train this random guy to be half as good as her when the world is in danger. Then they set off on their adventure, Toad joins them, and we get a VERY brief travel montage. It's about thirty seconds total - just long enough to give Peach a line about how she wants to protect this beautiful world of hers to try and give her some stakes. We get the genre-mandated nighttime campfire heart to heart, which is exactly long enough to have Mario say he misses Luigi and to have Peach give the two sentence summary of her origin story and not a second longer. Then they reach the Kongs, and their big journey is complete. (They barely interact for the rest of the movie.) So much of the movie is like this - always ready to get on to the next scene as soon as a new one starts.

I'm not criticizing the script because I expect The Super Mario Bros. Movie to be a prestige drama - although there are certainly halfhearted attempts at a dramatic arc. The stuff with Mario's family was a fun enough idea, but again, ruthless efficiency. We get one quick scene with them at the start to give Mario some pathos, because I guess Save the Cat said he's gotta have some pathos. And then Mario gets his dad's approval amidst the action of the final battle in Brooklyn to resolve his arc, just so the movie can end as quickly as possible once Bowser is defeated. (Despite now having the approval of their family and their community back in Brooklyn, Mario and Luigi move to the Mushroom Kingdom off-screen without a single word dedicated to this decision, because that's where they live in the games.)

Look. I am not comparing it to The Godfather. Don't give me that shit. I am not asking for an extra half hour to explore Mario and Luigi's childhood trauma. I am not asking for the complex inner workings of the Mushroom Kingdom monarchy. I know this is gonna be a basic Hero's Journey adventure for kids. It just feels like it's turning down so many opportunities to have a little fun with the characters, to let them interact and play off of each other, to let there be some adventure on this adventure. This is the first time we've gotten to see these characters interact with fully voiced dialogue in a very, very long time! "Yeah, it's not High Art, but it's FUN!" Stories are fun! Character interactions are fun! The script could be having so much more fun!! It is adamantly against making the Story parts of this story-driven movie any more Fun than they functionally need to be!!!

Mario, Peach, and Toad's journey to find the Kongs is shorter than the training montage that precedes it. After the opening, Bowser mostly just sits in his castle and waits for the third act to start. Luigi's there, too, but he only gets one scene with Bowser and then the movie mostly forgets he exists until the climax. He doesn't even get to try and sneak out of Bowser's castle and get up to hijinx. He's just there to be a motivation for Mario, so he sits in a cage for half the movie. It's the bare outline of a script with action scenes added in.

Aside from the fact that it's Jack Black singing as Bowser, I feel like this overly-efficient script might be part of the reason why the "Peaches" scene stands out so much. It's a moment that didn't strictly need to be there to keep the plot moving or to provide an action setpiece. It's not even a reference to another Mario thing. It's just a fun and memorable little character moment that's there for its own sake. That's what the movie needed more of. To stop and smell the roses more often. To play in the space.

To be clear, this isn't a unique problem with this movie. Critics have been noting for years that second acts are disappearing from big Hollywood movies in favor of the Act I plot setup and the Act III action, even though Act II is supposed to be where you get to explore your actual premise. And lots of animated movies give me this exact same vibe of being too "screenwriterly," or feeling like they had an executive breathing down their necks and demanding changes based on focus testing. But these common issues are why I come away mostly feeling like the movie is on the better end of "average," rather than totally blowing my mind. You have seen this movie many times before, just not with Mario in it.

And, of course, there's the music. The score by Brian Tyler based on various classic Mario and Donkey Kong tunes (frustratingly all attributed to Koji Kondo) is absolutely beautiful, but it's unfortunately frequently overshadowed by the licensed music. Everyone already complained about things like the use of Take On Me in place of a lovingly arranged DKC medley, but it feels illustrative of the tug of war the movie is caught in the middle of, between wanting to be a lavishly faithful Mario movie and wanting to be a generic tentpole animated adventure movie. Every single licensed song used is the most obvious, overused song they could have picked for the scene. It reeks of cynical executive meddling and it took me out of the movie every time.

But there really was a lot of care and love put into this movie - more than probably any other video game movie ever made, not that that's a high bar. I don't want to underplay that too much amidst all my complaints spurred by the absolutely insane response to the reviews.

Aside from the countless background references that people will be picking apart for years, touches like the Captain Toad tune playing in the background of Toad's introduction or the Mario Kart 8 menu music playing in the kart garage really help bring it to another level of authenticity. I also enjoyed seeing some more obscure Mario enemies that felt like they were picked more for being fun to animate than for being nostalgic and marketable. No matter how many times I sarcastically pointed to the screen and deadpanned "reference. reference." I am not immune to noticing these things and smiling. I am not immune to the DK Rap. These alone don't make the movie good, but it's nice to have a video game movie that feels like it was made by people who like video games.

Most importantly, the animation is great throughout. It's leaps and bounds ahead of other Illumination work, and it's the best the Mario cast has ever looked. They even made Donkey Kong handsome, somehow. They're all so squishy and expressive, and they move so fluidly - especially in the action scenes. I particularly liked the more kinetic ones like the aerial Banzai Bill chase and the Mario Kart sequence. Truly, the Mad Max-inspired car battle on Rainbow Road where Mario literally does the speedrun shortcut is this movie firing on all cylinders.

Other, more hand-to-hand fights nail the Popeye-esque vibe Mario should be going for. He's an underdog who gets the shit kicked out of him by bigger, stronger opponents until he gets his signature powerup and turns the tables on them. My favorite animation of all probably came from the use of Cat Mario to turn the tide in the DK fight. They had so much fun making Mario move like a cat. Again, it feels like a choice made because it'd be fun to animate rather than just a nostalgia move.

It's that animation and that attention to detail that carry the film, really. They elevate it from mediocrity into being a fun watch for a fan like me, albeit one I couldn't help but pick apart with Anthony as we watched it at home. I'm glad I saw it, but there's a lot of room to improve with the inevitable sequel. I hope they do. I can't deny that I had fun with the movie, but I hope next time that fun is partially because of the script instead of in spite of it.

Stray thoughts:

Overall, I would say I enjoyed the movie a lot more than Sonic 1, but probably not as much as Sonic 2. Not that these movies need to be pitted against each other.

I hated the Luma. I hated how hilarious they clearly thought the Luma was. They have the fucking Luma break the fourth wall to end the movie and start the credits. This is going to be a deep cut for fans of bad animated films, but the whole time I was just thinking of the little fish from Romeo & Juliet: Sealed With A Kiss who's just the director's kid saying random nonsense. You know I'm right

I rolled my eyes at the "our princess is in another castle" joke and several other jokes that would have been dated in a gamer webcomic 20 years ago but I guess they had to be there

How much of Brooklyn did Bowser's giant floating castle take out? We know 9/11 happened in this universe because the Freedom Tower is there, hasn't New York been through enough

I can't believe there's a Diskun easter egg

The dog is the most Illumination character design in the movie. It felt like it wandered on set from The Secret Life of Pets

Mario being a gamer and playing Kid Icarus of all things just made me remember this tweet:

Yes Anthony did get mad at me for being thirsty for Bowser

[skyziej]

Gavril x y/n: To the beach

so, um, hi yall again, yep im back to just put a fanfic here, for @peaches-blook0-0 and my inspo writer is @nebulous-nevermore

Because of slinking shadows by @nebulous-nevermore i wanted to do a fanfic of gavril, so enjoy, u lil critters :))

(p.s, also, THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING IN A WHILE, SO PLEASE NO HATE ToT)

(also it's very long, so u can skim read if u want :))

Y/n x Gavril: to the beach (part 1)

Today was a slack day, you had no work and Gav, like always, had nothing to do. He was supposedly going out today to “borrow” people’s food from their houses, but why would he have to go, if the fridge at y/n’s house was already stocked up with cheese, fruit and many other delicious delectables, hence, there was no reason for Gavril to go to other people’s houses. After you had finished cutting up some watermelon and putting some cheese on an extra plate, you met Gav on the sofa in the lounge room before sitting next to him.

“What’s on the agenda today?” you asked Gavril, as you put the plates down on the coffee table Infront of youse.

 “Oh nothing darling, just relaxing for today before heading out, again, that is” he said with a relaxed sigh.

 Y/N:  “Uh huh, and don’t you always relax anyways, because u get to live in my house rent free?” you say picking up the tv remote.

 “Ha! Good one!” he said picking up a piece of cheese.

 U just roll your eyes at him before turning the tv on. As you turned it on, a wine commercial, with the beach as the background, played, making a sudden idea light up like a light bulb in your head.

“Gav, I know what we’re doing today.” You said as u turned the tv off.

 “What?” he asked.

“Were going to the beach.” U said.

“The what?”-Gav.

Gavril x y/n: to the beach (part 2)

After shopping and packing the car, u, Gavril and Sabolan (yes, sobolan is included 😊), were heading off to the beach.

“I can’t believe u don’t know what a beach is!?, What have u been doing Gav!?” you said as u were driving.

“Well, trying to survive, playing music, and being, well, a man of the night.” (he’s secretly batman peoples :33 (jk jk))” he said as he looked out the window.

 “Well that clearly hasn’t gotten u to see the most” you said.

After an hour of driving, youse finally got to a beach.

 “Up! Sleepy heads!” you said as u unbuckled yourself.

 Gav woke up drowsily, rubbing his face to wake up. “5 more minutes” he said as he fell asleep.

“Nope! Were all going, come on!” you said as u got out from the car, walked over to the passenger side, opened his door, and headed off to the boot of the car. You were unpacking the car until Gav came to help u too. After 40 mins, youse were all set. You both had all your stuff out and were ready to enjoy the beach.

You then walked onto the beach and ushered him to follow. He walked onto the sand with a precautionary step, taking him 5 mins to really feel the soft, warm, sand, between his grippers. Looking up from the sand, out into the vast blue.

He stood immobilized in thought, as he tried picturing his remembrance of the resonating feeling within him right now, a foggy memory, that wouldn’t clear up, he couldn’t quite put it together. But he swore he had felt this feeling somewhere before.

 The breeze made up for the heat that the sun was radiating, as it flowed through his hair. It was quite, quiet as the only thing that could be heard was the waves flowing up and down onto the bank of the beach, and the breeze that whistled by.

As he was lost in thought, you were waiting for him, but then realized he was spaced out. So, what u did was wave your hand Infront of him to get his attention.

y/n: “Hello, Gavvv, Gav to earth!?”.

 Gav: “huh? Oh, sorry was caught up in thought for a second, it’s just… this place feels familiar, like I’ve been here before” he said as he looked at u.

 “Well… maybe it’s a childhood memory?” u say.

 “Maybe...” he says looking out again.

 You then roll your eyes and shake ur head a bit before taking his hand and starting to walk. “Come on! What r we waiting for?! Let’s go!” u say as he follows u.

Gavril x y/n: To the beach (part 3)

You both enjoyed the day at the beach, which was chaotically eventful. First u both wanted to go swimming, and youse did. You were first into the water, then Gavril, but as soon as his tail submerged, he ran out as if something bit him. When u went to go and check up on him, he said that his tail (the goo) had responded in a ick way, making a sharp pain shoot up his spine, meaning he couldn’t stay in the water any longer, which meant that swimming was off the list (this fic includes Gav’s goo NOT being able to goo the whole ocean version, lol). Next you and him were playing in the sand, drawing in the sand with sticks found from nearby vegetation, before eventually being thrown at each other, as a joke, which, thankfully! Neither of u got hurt.

Youse then made sandcastles for Sabolan which was fun, and Sabolan went into nearby bushes to get small things for his sandcastles as well, which was all fine until he started getting chased by seagulls. Luckily Gavril saw what was happening to Sabolan, and ran to Sabolan’s aid, whacking the nearby seagulls away and making one of them fall to the sand, saving Sabolan.

Gavril then cupped his hands and bent down close to the sand for Sobolan to climb into his hands. Sobolan then quickly scurried into his hands, trembling a little from the deadly experience. Gavril then calmed him down by gently caressing his fur and holding him close to him. After that, Sobolan then learnt that he did not favor the beach after that experience, so he always stayed close by to Gavril.

Then for the afternoon you both had a small after-noon tea beach picnic, enjoying the chatter of each other, as u both ate some sandwiches you had made, followed by a home-made platter.

 After that you both had ventured along the beach in search of some shell’s At first, Gavril wasn’t sure what shell’s were, until you showed him, and after about 15 minutes of Gavril picking up every shell he could, his hands were full of different shaped and colored shell’s, which u had to put in your tote bag (You were carrying with u), because he had refused to let them go.

Gavril x y/n: to the beach (part 4)

After both of your mini little activities on the beach, youse had finally rested on a fallen log, that looked like it had been there for quite a while now. You both  sat next to each other.

With the sunset umbre of the afternoon sky, and the gentle and cool breeze rustling the nearby palm leaves above you two, Gavril couldn’t think of a better opportunity then to try something with u, that had been bobbing in his minds for months. He was about to break the silence, but you beat him to that first.

You: “So did u have fun?” you said as u look at him.

Gav: “ I did, it’s the best fun I’ve had in ages, except I couldn’t stay in the water, and that Sabolan nearly became seagull food, but apart from those things, I enjoyed the day most with you” he said quite heartedly. You then awkwardly chuckled, before quickly changing the subject.

You:  “Ha…yeah…but I enjoyed it with u too, and u Sabolan!”

You said as Sobolan, at the mention of his name, quickly scurried off Gavril and onto u, with a slight happy squeak. The conversation’s kept going until you felt Gavril’s hand take hold of yours.

“Hey, Y/N, may I try something with you?” he said as he looked at u with a slight red tint on his face.

 “Um…okay? What is it?” you said as you shifted to face your body in his way. He then turns to face you, holding both your hands in his. “Y/n, thank u for letting me and Sabolan stay with you. Even when I broke into your house, you still let us stay, and I am truly greatful” He said softly.

He then squeezed your hands gently and sighed, before speaking again. “You know….. how I said we could be more then roommate’s and u agreed to it?…..well…I’ve been thinking about it for some while now, and I didn’t know when to do it….but…this here…seems like the right moment to do so” he said as the red plastered across his cheeks increased, as he looked at you softly.

“Wha- what do u mean?” you said more quietly, as your blush deepened and your heart-rate increased, as you waited for something from him.

Gav: “Here let me show u” he said. You then watched him entangle his fingers with yours, before looking up at him. He saw how the sunset’s warm light, from the downing afternoon, made your features look twice as more beautiful. He then gently placed his hand upon your cheek, making your blush deepen again followed by a soft smile, which also made him smile.

He then lightly caressed your cheek with his thumb, before gently brushing some of your hair back behind your ear with the same hand, placing his hand on your shoulder. He then moved his face closer to yours, his eyes darting down to your lips, before back to your eyes.

So you too, moved in slowly as well until both your lips softly touched each other’s. He kissed you and you kissed back, both melting into the moment, as he then caressed your cheek once again, his tail gently touching your back, as if to keep you close and protected.

Gavril x y/n: to the beach (part 5)

You both pulled away after a minute and looked at each other with faces full of red, both reacting with a short, soft chuckle.

“Soooo…is it official?” he asked after a minute, as he looked at u.

“Hhmmmm…alright, but we’ll keep working on it, okay?” you said, as he looked at you with a soft smile, nodding a bit in agreement.

 “However that was good for your first move, I’ll give u that” you said looking at him.

“Thank you, y/n….so does that mean I get to continue staying at your house for free?” he said trying to get a reaction out of you.

“Don’t push it, lovey” you said as you gave him a look.

Gav: “Lovey? Now that’s a new one, better start calling you that too” he said with a light laugh. You just sighed, and shook your head a little, with a smile, as he smiled and held u close to him, leaning your head back onto his shoulder as he wrapped a comforting arm around you, before giving you a small kiss on the top of your head, and resting his head on yours, with a slight nuzzle, continuing to watch the remainder of the afternoon’s beautiful sunset.

(Anyways, that's all folks! hope u enjoyed it :))

#bubo series #gavril #fanfic #gavril fanfic #to the beach #writing #IT'S SO LONG GAH! #:))

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day Nine - Prompt: Ocean @rosekiller-microfic

March Daily Series - 775 words

TW: Mild NSFW reference at the end

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

After his chat with Dorcas, Evan decided to take a walk. He wasn’t due back at the shop until Monday and already regretted requesting the entire week off. At the time, he’d allowed an ocean of sentiment to overrule his good sense. Catching up with his sister and obligatory family time seemed worth the lost hours and pay while he dodged Barty’s calls. Less so now.

I should call in and say I want to come back early.

Kingsley would probably agree right off. He was short three people over winter hols and was fully booked with appointments. It would be so easy to fall back into his routine. A routine that used to include his favourite customer. Barty had been a customer at The Ink Blot longer than Evan worked there, which meant Kingsley wasn’t willing to lose a long-time customer over a break-up.

He shoved that worry aside and texted his boss. If Kingsley said that he was needed, then he could play it up to his parents. His father would likely encourage him to go back and show a “good work ethic,” by which he really meant “work your arse off and quit relying on me.”

Kingsley’s answer was swift and definitive. “If you’re available, I have clients for you.”

Good enough.

Evan called his father and laid on the promise of holiday pay as thick as possible. It didn’t take much convincing. His father hated seeing him “loaf” around the house.

“Go on then. Your mum and I still expect you to attend the party though, comprenez-moi?”

“Oui, père.”

As soon as the call ended, he spun on his heel and headed into work. Evan needed the escape as much as he did the money. While he didn’t have many bills per se, he did have a healthy weed and cigarette habit to maintain.

By the time he reached the shop, there was a line six deep in the waiting area. He waved at Emmeline, who was manning the front desk and looked relieved to see him.

“So glad to see you, Evan!” she said, blowing him a kiss. “You’re a peach, darling. A peach!”

“Give me a few to set up, then send them back.”

She saluted him with two fingers, then returned her attention to the customer that she was assisting. He didn’t envy her job. Helping people choose a design was his least favourite part of the job. Evan could happily spend hours losing himself to the hum of his gun and methodical line work, but managing indecisive twats was not his forte.

As he set up his station, Evan tried to ignore the nagging images of Barty sprawled out on his table. The first time that he saw him walk in, Evan knew he was trouble. When Barty threw himself onto the table and winked at him a few weeks later, he knew that he would dive headfirst into it.

“You’re the new kid, right?” Barty said, tucking his hands behind his head.

“I’m new, yes. What did you pick and where is it going?”

Barty shrugged, then pulled off his shirt. “I’m not picky. Do whatever you want.”

Evan stared at him for a full five minutes before realising that he was serious. Every inch of Barty’s chest and arms was covered in random tattoos. His skin was complete chaos. There were three large tattoos in sight and a hodgepodge filled in around them. A snake that coiled up the right side of his chest and neck, the spiderweb that stretched across his left hip, and a large collection of daggers fanned out in a semi-circle below his belly button and pointed at groin.

“You don’t have anywhere to—”

“Check my back.” He sat up and turned away.

“No, not really. Unless you want it here.” Evan pressed a gloved finger at the base of his spine. “Think you can handle a tramp stamp?”

Barty snorted loudly, then nodded. “Yeah, go wild, man. Whatever you want to do is fine by me.”

It wasn’t until he was two hours in with Barty face down on the table and his jeans tugged down below his bum that it hit Evan. He planned this position. He wanted Evan to stare at his sparsely covered arse for multiple hours. Barty watched him intently as he drew the intricate vines that teased the tail of another snake that mimicked the one on the front.

Evan bought weed from Barty, then sucked him off after-hours on that same table three random tattoos later. Now it was a humbling memory. He didn’t regret it, not really. It was just one more mistake to learn from.

Next Part>>>

#evan x barty #barty x evan #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #barty crouch jr x evan rosier #rosekiller #rosekiller microfic

[nozunhinged]

8 BL BOYS I WILL THROW HANDS FOR

Omg omg omg @scarefox my dream has finally come true this is the first time I got tagged in one of these I'm so happyyyyyy thank uuuu 🥰🥰🥰🥰

So I selected my pokeboys extra carefully but unfortunately I haven't watched enough BL's yet to make it to 10, but please have these 8 I would protect with everything I have 🤲

1. Boston - Only Friends

Listen, all the shit they gave him during the show, I went through at least twice. Including the "stop being a slut it will ruin your life"-talk BY MY (THEN) FRIENDS. So I am insanely biased but I will sucker punch everyone until my last breath who dares to harm him in any way. Keep doing you Boston babes, I hope you have the most delicious orgys in NY.

2. Zouey - Playboyy

Another HUGE bias from my side, as I already elaborated here. Watching this sweet, sweet child dump all his pretty braincells into his first love is quite painful at times. But don't worry I'll kick Teena in his huge tiddies if he breaks Zoueys heart and then I'll proceed to put him in a blanket burrito and watch anime with him, promise.

3. Zongyi - Kiseki Dear To Me

If Ai Di couldn't go somehow, I'd be the first one to volunteer to protect him in prison. I'd learn all the prison politics and lift all the weights to throw hands at the scariest inmates just so this baby boy could keep making his lil cakes and dream of his gangster kitty.

4. Peach - Bake Me Please

Yes, the list of people I'd throw hands at for Peach includes both Guy AND Shin. This wonderful human being deserves no less than being pampered 24/7, showered with kisses and affection all year round. And both are not deserving of him, end of story.

5. Kim - Pit Babe

I certainly did not expect him to awaken my protective instincts and I am very aware this man wouldn't need anyone throwing hands for him but I'd gladly step up to help him do his lil investigation thingy and hand winner his loser trophy. I'd also throw hands at everyone who wouldn't let this guy finally race his car in peace.

6. Khem - The Sign

He may not need bodily protection as well, but I will forever believe the cheating allegations are a misunderstanding and if they're not I'll defend that he's dedicated enough to go as far as to make it through the most hellish elite training program just so he could keep groveling at his ex-lovers feet and call him baby.

7. Sky - Love In The Air

He may have Prapai now but that wouldn't stop me to throw hands at anyone who dares to harm him. Fort said is favourite scene was when Sky was so happy he could make it to the first year event and that was when I knew I'd protect Sky with my life too.

8. Sangwoo - Semantic Error

Us Autistics have to stick together and I already loved him in the webtoon. I love how he is 100% unapologetically himself and I will roundhouse kick everyone who dares to try to mock him for it. He's my favourite savage.

✨Bonus ✨

Hyun - The Kings Affection

Not a BL boy even though officially his love is a man, but I wouldn't just throw hands for him—I'd part seas, move mountains, destroy continents and conquer new universes just for him. I cried for approx. 2 hours over his last scene and didn't give a crap about the couples happy end. All hail King Dimples. He deserves everything our cosmos has to offer. He needs to be protected at ALL COSTS. If you watched The King's Affection, you know what I'm talking about. If not, read this.

✨✨✨✨

Thank you thank YOUUUUU my dearest @scarefox for tagging MEEEEE unfortunately I do not have enough moots to know who to tag so everyone who stumbles over this on their TL can feel tagged ❤️❤️

#i love it here #bl boys #only friends the series #kiseki: dear to me #playboyy the series #the sign the series #pit babe the series #semantic error

[our-death-means-flag]

izzy hands x reader with enemies to lovers. that’s it. that’s the ask. im so in love w that angy little man

Bonding Under Duress

Ship: Izzy Hands x Reader  Summary: Stede really wants the crew to get along or at the very least tolerate each other. Unfortunately that includes you and Izzy. So the two of you get sent on an errand for the captains with the actual goal of the two of you getting to know each other. A storm has other plans and you and Izzy learn much more than you wanted to about each other… Warnings: minor descriptions of injury, Izzy being very mean to himself, angst, hurt/comfort

“Absolutely fockin’ not!”

“As much as I hate to agree with that asshole, no.”

For once you and Izzy agreed on something, both of you glaring at each other when you realized.

Stede wilted. You immediately felt the urge to comfort him. “Captain, I’m not trying to question your judgment here, but really, no. There’s no need for this.” You reassured.

Izzy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Fockin’ ridiculous…” He grumbled under his breath. “I don’t take orders from you, you posh twat.” He snapped at Stede.

You immediately shot him a deathly glare. “God, you're predictable. Get some new material or just shut the fuck up.” 

“Hey now, both of you. I’m not asking.” Stede puffed his chest out a tad. “It’s an order from your captain. I’m not expecting you two to become best friends or anything. All you need to do is go on that island and bring back some peaches! Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours and who knows, you may learn something about each other.” Stede seemed very optimistic. 

You sighed, already nodding, well aware of how far Stede was willing to go for an idea like this.

Izzy seemed to be about to protest when Ed leaned in. “An order from both of your captains actually!” He chimed in.

“Edward…” Izzy all but whined.

“Izzy.” Edward echoed, even mockingly copying Izzy’s whiny tone.

You watched as Izzy’s face flushed every shade of red, though whether it was rage or embarrassment or maybe both, you couldn’t tell. You bit your lip to keep yourself from laughing.  Izzy must have noticed since that seemed to set him off. “Oh fuck off. I’m not going to some stupid fockin’  island to get some stupid fockin’ peaches with this stupid fockin’-

“Bye! See you in a few hours! Have fun, you two!” Ed yelled cheerfully as he was towed away.  

You waved while watching Izzy in your peripheral vision. The bastard looked furious. So much so that he was practically vibrating with rage. Then again he had been thrown over Ed’s shoulder like a bag of potatoes and all but dragged here. 

“So…” You finally asked, drawing the word out, on guard in case he decided to bite you. “Let’s go find some stupid fockin’ peaches, eh?” You couldn’t manage to mimic Izzy’s voice but if you said so yourself, your ‘fock’ was pretty accurate.

Izzy snarled. “Piss off. We’re not working together. I’m going one way and you go the other.” He turned on his heels and stormed closer to the edge of the forested part of the island. You merely waited. He paused, deep in thought, glanced one way, then the other and then seemingly realized what you already knew.

You, of course, decided to rub it in. “I sure won’t stop you if that’s what you want. But I’d recommend against it. Not only is it against captains’ orders but when was the last time you did any navigating on land?” Izzy seethed and you grinned. “Also I have all the stuff, since rather than acting like a feral dog, I actually packed so… again, all your call of course.”

Izzy very obviously considered running off on his own if just to spite you but instead he turned quickly and stormed up to you. “Fine. You’re right.” He said it like the words burned his throat. “But I swear if you get us lost-“

“Yes, yes, I know, you’ll maim me and/or kill me in some creatively brutal and violent fashion.” You waved a hand dismissively. Deciding to go further you added. “Which you and I both know you won’t do since that’d piss off the captains.” You knew you shouldn’t keep teasing but you enjoyed watching Izzy turn red.

With a seething Izzy following you, you started trekking into the forest. Luckily you’d come prepared and had brought along your wide knife to cut through the foliage. The terrain of the island wasn’t quite the same as the ones you’d been on before but it was close enough.

The two of you walked mostly in silence with you occasionally warning about upcoming hazards in your path. You easily navigated the uneven terrain but Izzy had significantly more difficulty. Probably because he was used to a ship. As much as a ship swaying could mess up your balance, it was not comparable to uneven weird terrain like this. 

The first few times you’d chimed in with a “careful” or “watch your step” Izzy had snarled back at you to “Fuck off”. But after nearly falling on his ass a few times, he started to take your warnings more seriously.

(Honestly you deserved sainthood for not laughing until your lungs failed every time he almost fell. Especially since he’d always flail and pinwheel his arms to keep steady.  Something made even funnier by the fact that he was unharmed beside his ego.)

Luckily for both Izzy and your composure, you managed to track down the peach tree quickly enough. As you clambered up the tree and gathered up the requested fruit, Izzy stood around looking woefully out of place. 

You really were trying to work on Stede’s ridiculous bonding plan but you couldn’t resist and pelted Izzy with a peach. You nailed him dead center in the chest. He jumped clearly not having expected the sudden fruit attack but somehow his reaction time was quick enough to catch the peach as it bounced off his chest. He shot you a glare which you returned with a smile. Izzy tossed the peach in his hand, clearly silently considering throwing it back at you. However you simply motioned with the extra bag you’d brought which was currently full of peaches, making it readily apparent that you would in fact, return fire and that you had much more ammo. He backed off.

You climbed down from the tree and just as you were sorting yourself out…

BONK.

A peach contacted the side of your head. You spun to face Izzy and he had the gall to look confused and  innocent despite the fact that he clearly no longer had a peach in hand. You couldn’t help but smirk as you ducked down to pick up the peach and as you were standing up (but before you fully did) you threw it at him.

It just kept going that way as the two of you walked back. The peach being tossed back and forth with varied strength. Whether or not it was possible to break someone’s nose with a peach, Izzy sure as hell was trying to. Hell he’d nearly succeeded throwing the peach so hard you nearly hit yourself in the face with your own hand just from catching it. You on the other hand, had a simpler goal, you wanted to land it on his head. Izzy seemed to assume that you were aiming for his face so his defenses were focused there instead. You were certain you could land it before the two of you made it to the beach but you didn’t get the chance.

You noticed first. Izzy seemed really uncomfortable on land so that’s probably why he missed it. However you’d thought the air felt off all day. But it was only when the first thunder crack pierced the mostly quiet area that you realized that the off-ness you were feeling was the same way you’d feel before a storm.

Izzy had been mid throw when it happened. The peach hit you in the leg and was instantly forgotten as his attention immediately darted towards where you knew the shore was, doubtlessly worrying about Ed. “We have to get to the Revenge.” 

Izzy looked genuinely concerned so you didn’t give a snarky answer. “We can’t. There’s no way they can get a dingy out in what’s about to be a storm.” Your words were immediately emphasized when rain started pouring down. “We can’t make it back now. Let’s find somewhere to hunker down and get back when the storm passes.” Izzy still looked moments away from booking it back to the ship. “Ed, Fang, and Ivan are all on that ship. You don’t have to trust anyone else, just trust that they can handle it. Don’t risk making them worry about us on top of managing the ship.” 

Izzy cursed under his breath as he visibly struggled with the choice but luckily your logic won him over and you didn’t have to drag him. “Fine.” He hissed the word out harsher than any curse word. 

The storm hadn’t been gracious enough to give the two of you any time to talk and the wind and rain was already getting stronger. Despite just having had to talk Izzy out of this exact thing, you couldn’t help but worry about the Revenge. The island was pretty much all tall mountains, you doubted that your crew had gotten much warning. But you had to accept your own logic. They’d handle it. You could trust Ed and Stede to keep the ship safe (admittedly mostly the former).

The wind and rain made traversing the nasty terrain even more difficult than it had been before. The wind knocked you off balance and the rain made the ground slippery. The warm day you’d been having moments ago had vanished, the rain coupled with the wind made you nearly shiver. Despite the cold, you couldn’t run for cover. You had to painstakingly walk carefully to avoid falling.

After you got dangerously close to losing your balance at the edge of a small valley, you decided to reach out a hand to Izzy since you could tell he was struggling. His frantic stumbling was significantly less funny when he was actually in danger. Of course, Izzy didn’t appreciate your offer. You took it as a testament of how much you’d seen Izzy swear that even over the deafening roaring wind, you could tell he was telling you to “Fuck off”.

You could feel the mud under your boots shifting and you were incredibly worried about it giving out in a mudslide so you tried your damndest to move as quickly as possible. You nearly fell when your boot slipped out from under you. If the wind wasn’t so goddamn loud, Izzy might have actually heard your warning. But the sound of your voice was easily overpowered by the wind.  

Then the ground gave out from under both of you. You just barely had the time to launch yourself backwards, slamming none too gently into a tree for your troubles. Izzy wasn’t so lucky. You were immediately back on your feet and spotted him lying at the bottom of the small valley.

“Izzy?” You called out as loudly as you could. No reply. He didn’t so much as stir. Even if he hadn’t heard you, you doubted Izzy would just lay on the ground. “Shit.” You mumbled under your breath and quickly as you could, you made your way down, none too gracefully. You were at his side shockingly fast. Izzy was a little banged up but he was breathing thankfully, though it looked like he’d hit his head. He was out cold. “Well, shit.” You mumbled to yourself.

You ducked down and were able to carefully maneuver Izzy into your arms. For such a small man, he was shockingly heavy. But the universe did give you a bit of mercy when you spotted a small cave, looking to be most protected from the storm. You managed to drag the two of you inside. You put both Izzy and the bag of peaches down and dropped down to the ground, exhausted. Even though you were out of the wind in the rain, you were still soaked and you were still freezing. You forced  yourself to get back up. 

Luckily, the wind blew quite a few sticks further into the cave so you weren’t stuck trying to build a fire with wet tinder. Cold and uncomfortable as you were, it was incredibly difficult to be patient enough to slowly grow the fire but your dedication paid off. Before long You were basking in the warmth of a newly made fine.

You pulled off your overcoat which, while completely soaked, had protected most of your clothes. Izzy had given you shit about it, how a long coat wasn’t practical in the Caribbean (ironic, coming from a man in leather pants and a leather vest). 

Despite what you wanted to do you knew you couldn’t just sit by the fire. You had  to take care of Izzy as well. You dragged yourself up and knelt down by Izzy. He had a small cut on the back of his head but luckily it didn’t seem to be that bad. You didn’t hesitate to tear off one of your sleeves to wrap it up. You pulled Izzy as close to the fire as you dared but he was still shivering a little. You managed to pull him up so you could start the daunting task of getting him out of his vest and shirt. His vest was pretty easy but his shirt was completely soaked and probably responsible for sapping a lot of his body heat. 

As you untied his cravat you noticed the ring around it. You’d spotted the ring before (gotten a pretty close look when Izzy decided he needed to get into your face to yell at you). He always wore it. It was clearly important to him so you didn’t want to just set it aside and risk it getting lost, so instead you slipped it into one of your pockets. At least it would be safe there until Izzy was conscious enough to not lose it.

You had to rest his head on your shoulder so you could wrestle his dead weight out of his shirt. ‘Please don’t wake up right now. Please don’t wake up right now, ‘ you silently begged the universe, because, while you usually followed Stede’s ‘talk it through’ method, that was a conversation that you didn’t want to have. Luckily for once in this dumpster fire of a day, you at least got that and Izzy stayed unconscious. 

You definitely did not glance at his chest, taking in the mix of scars and tattoos that you’d never seen before. And it definitely didn’t look incredibly attractive on him. Not at all.Your jacket was dry at that point so you laid it over Izzy as a makeshift blanket. You considered taking his sword since you didn’t want to get stabbed on instinct when he woke up, but you also figured he’d probably feel better if he had it with him. 

You crumpled against the opposite wall of the cave and basked in the warmth of the fire. Since you were the only one who was conscious, you had watch duty by default. You glanced at Izzy. Hopefully he’d wake up soon. You doubted you could carry him back to the dingy and leaving him behind so you could get someone to help you made you incredibly nervous. 

It was strange to see him so calm. With his face so relaxed and your sleeve wrapped around his head, he looked like a completely different person. You let yourself stare at him for a moment before focusing on something else. Luckily your bag full of peaches was within arm’s reach. Quite a few of them had been crushed or otherwise mangled by the rough journey but you managed to find one that was mostly intact.

At least you had snacks…

---

It wasn’t easy to gauge the passage of time in a cave but you’d have to guess it had been around an hour. You’d had to go grab more twigs and tinder for the fire and the rain seemed to be slowing. That was something at least. Looked like the storm was going to stop soon. Then you’d have to figure out how to get Izzy and yourself back to the Revenge. 

Before you could worry about that a low raspy groan caught your attention. Izzy was waking up… He immediately grabbed at his head, hand going for the injury at the back of his head. 

“Careful!” You said, more on instinct than anything else.

His eyes immediately darted to you and after a brief moment where he seemed to take in his surroundings, he immediately drew his sword and pointed it at you and skittered away as best he could until his back hit the wall. His whole body seemed shaky and uncertain, the hand holding the sword was trembling.

You held your hands up in slight surrender, not wanting to freak him out any more than you already had. “Well, good morning to you too…” you managed, voice shaking slightly with an awkward chuckle. He stared longer. Not knowing what to do, you cracked a joke to ease the tension. “I know, the one sleeve thing looks great on Ed but it sure looks stupid on me eh?” You motioned with your bare arm for emphasis.

“What the fuck…?” He managed to hiss out, he looked genuinely confused.

You furrowed your brow. “Do you remember what happened?” You weren’t a doctor by any means but memory loss could happen with head injuries.

“I…” Izzy managed. He lowered his sword and clutched at his head. “I fell?” He mused, more to himself before a look of clarity passed over him and he hissed out “stupid fockin Stede Bonnet. Stupid fockin peaches.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief, if he was pissed off, then that was back to the status quo for Izzy. “So you definitely remember then. How’s your head?”

“How the hell do you think it is? It fuckin’ hurts.” He snapped at you. He glanced around getting a proper look at your surroundings. “What the fuck happened?”

Glad that he seemed more calm and had stopped pointing a sword at you, you explain what happened: how he’d  fell, how you’d dragged him here. When you reached the part where you’d taken his shirt off, he’d immediately looked down and seemingly realized that he was in fact, not wearing a shirt. He pulled your jacket up to cover himself more, looking almost comically like a blushing lady. 

“Why the fuck?” He immediately snarled at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Because it was soaking wet and you were shivering? You would’ve frozen your damn tits off if I hadn’t.”

He looked like he was moments away from snapping at you when he stopped himself and his hand immediately shot to his throat. Before he could say anything you jumped in, well aware of what he was about to ask. “I have it, don’t worry.” You patted the ring in your pocket. Izzy stared at you almost nervously. You probably would’ve teased him at any other time but you could tell he was genuinely concerned, so you didn’t. 

You stood slowly and walked around the fire, choreographing your movements as not to take him by surprise. “Here,” you said as you gently placed the ring in his hand. He clutched it tightly to his chest, one hand clutching his ring and the other toying with the fabric of your coat. You sat back down and leaned against the wall of the cave.

You expected Izzy to break the silence with an insult or a sarcastic comment, instead you got a soft, shaky, “Why?”

“You wear that ring all the time. It’s clearly important to you and I didn’t want it to roll away or get lost or  something. I-“

“Not the ring.” Izzy interrupted. You raised a brow. “This.” He motioned at himself and the cave around the two of you. “All of this.”

You didn’t expect to somehow get more confused after his explanation. “What do you mean by ‘this’? I mean, sure a cave ain’t all that cozy but it got us out of the storm…. Besides-“

“No!” Izzy snapped, clearly furious. You immediately shut up, not sure what to do. He luckily didn’t raise his sword at you but he leveled a finger pointing at you accusingly. “Why did you do any of this?”

You furrowed your brows, trying to figure out what he meant. “Uh, you know that if I’d left you back there, you could’ve died?”  

He nodded as you thought he might get it then he spoke again. “You hate me.” He said it so matter-of-factly, as if it were just a given, a fact of the world.

You blinked. The pieces clicked together. “I don’t hate you.” You explained softly. Izzy scoffed, disbelief clear on his face. “No, I’m being honest. I don’t hate you. Granted  you can be a fucking asshole. But, I only give you shit because you give my crew shit. I don’t hate you. And even if I did I sure as hell wouldn’t have left you for dead.”

Had he really expected you to just leave him there? 

“Wait…” Though, that did raise a concerning question… “Are you telling me that you would have left me?”

Izzy rolled his eyes. “Of course not. You’re one of few people on that ship that knows what they’re doing. Besides, even if I wanted to, the crew wouldn’t believe me.  Even if it was an accident, they’d all assume I killed you. But they actually like you. Even the captains. You could come back drenched in my blood and they’d still believe whatever you said.” Izzy chuckled humorlessly.

You stared, too stunned to speak. Suddenly, you felt awful about teasing him before. No wonder he was so incredibly hostile if he thought you could murder him and get away with it, that you hated him enough to do it. You buried your face in your hands. “Damn it, I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” You glanced up to see Izzy was staring at you, confusion clear on his face. 

You hesitated, trying to figure out how best to phrase it so it wouldn’t sound patronizing. “I’m so sorry for anything I did that made you feel like you weren’t safe with me. I doubt my words mean much but, I really wasn’t going to do anything more than tease… or hit you with a peach… Sorry about that too.”

His expression only got more confused. You watched as he went from confused to a little scared then immediately to annoyed. “Don’t pretend to care!” He snapped. “If you're planning on lowering my guard for some later attack, it wont work.”

 The ‘it won’t work this time’ was implied. Sure, you hadn’t been a pirate all that long, but you certainly knew how awful people could be. You couldn’t help but wonder about Izzy’s scars. Had he gotten any of them from crew members who hated him? Just waiting for a moment of vulnerability to pounce. 

Izzy Hands was making far too much sense for you all of a sudden. 

“That’s happened before?”

Izzy all but growled at you for that then he actually looked at you. He seemed surprised by whatever he saw. “Of course.” He replied, again his voice matter-of-fact as if that was somehow supposed to make sense. 

 But you were undeterred. “That may be how some people are… But you’ve made it pretty clear how soft and pathetic the Revenge Crew is.” He didn’t seem convinced. “If I really wanted to do something like that, we literally would not be having this conversation right now!” You emphasized. 

“Unless you want something from me.” Izzy snapped immediately.

“Well, I don’t. Not really. You don’t really have to believe me. But I’m not going to hold this over your head. Really, I would've done the exact same thing if anyone else got hurt.” 

Izzy stared at you, eyebrow raised. After a long moment, he huffed and broke eye contact. “I can’t understand you…”

You sighed. It seems like the two of you got completely opposite things from this. You could finally understand at least in part why Izzy was like that, while he was completely baffled by you. You were saved from the uncomfortable silence by noticing that the rain had finally subsided. “Ah, the rain’s gone. Finally, we can get back to the ship.”

---

Izzy watched, pensive, as you stood and stretched, grabbing the bag filled with those stupid fockin peaches, carefully putting out the fire and generally cleaning up. He couldn’t help but notice your bare arm, the one whose sleeve was currently wrapped around his head. 

“Oh, here!” You tossed him his vest, shirt and cravat. They were all in good condition. You’d clearly taken care to take them off without damaging them. Eager to put all this strangeness behind him, Izzy wrestled his shirt and vest on, keeping an eye on you as he did.

None of this made any sense. 

You hated  him. He knew that. You’d made it clear from the moment you’d met. You were Bonnet’s first mate, loyal to your captain and protective over your crew. You’d made it no secret that you didn’t like how he did things. 

Izzy had been hated before. Of course he had. He had a position that people wanted and he was well aware that he wasn’t all that likable. At least before people had a reason to fear him as well. You didn’t. You had an entire crew behind you and with Edward so wrapped up in Bonnet, Izzy didn’t have anyone to protect him. 

Well, except… You, apparently.  You, who’d had every opportunity to get rid of him on this stupid trip even before the storm came in.

 And yet, here he was. Unharmed. Not only had you not tried anything besides the same teasing as usual, but you’d actually saved him. That alone was completely ridiculous. But you’d done more than that. You’d gone out of your way to take care of him. (His ring felt like it was burning in his hand as he put it back in place.) Even if you weren’t going to kill him solely out of respect for your captains, you wouldn’t have needed to do any more than drag him here. Yet, you’d not only torn your shirt to patch him up, you’d given him your jacket and even taken the time to make sure he didn’t lose his ring, just because you knew it was important to him.

He tried to stand but he was quickly overcome with dizziness and nausea so he stumbled. He braced himself to hit the ground but… Instead he found himself leaning against your chest, your arms wrapped around him.

“Shit! Izzy you okay? Ah, fuck dumb question, sorry. Are you feeling dizzy?” Your voice was still so fucking concerned. No mockery. You gently pulled away, seemingly unphased by the fact that he wasn’t responding to you, still supporting him so he didn’t fall. “You… uh… can hang on to my jacket if you like?” Your words made him realize that he was still desperately clutching your jacket.

He hissed out a “Fuck off” on reflex but… Fuck it. He slipped your jacket on. It didn’t really fit all that well but it was warm. 

You smiled. “How about this…” You let him wrap an arm around your shoulder. “I don’t think you should be walking on your own but I sure as hell can’t carry you anymore. For such a tiny man, you’re rather heavy…”

Izzy scoffed. “Not my fucking fault you’re a giant.” He grumbled. There was less bite in his tone than usual but it was absolutely still there.

You smiled at the insult. “I’ll take that as you feeling a bit better. You’re already being a snarky asshole.”

It had been a pain in the ass to clamber back up the hill he’d slipped down. Honestly, Izzy was surprised you managed to clamber down in the middle of the storm and not fall as well. 

The walk back was generally quiet only broken by your occasional comment of “careful” or “watch your step” which, Izzy was realizing, you’d done before. He’d assumed that you were being condescending. But now, considering everything else you’d done you must have been genuinely warning him. The more he thought about it the more he realized how you’d never really been that bad. You teased and occasionally the two of you would get into genuine arguments, but you never did anything particularly malicious. And you clearly cared about your crew. You’d check in on everyone (himself included he realized suddenly) after a raid, make sure everyone ate, and, while you were far too lax about it in Izzy’s opinion, you did make sure chores got done.

Hell, considering how much of non-captain Stede fockin’ Bonnet was, Izzy had little doubt in his mind that you’d been mostly running the ship.

You were still soft. Too soft. But, clearly, it was working to some extent.

You were actually making far too much sense for him all of a sudden. 

Dammit.

Luckily, it didn’t take long for the two of you to find the beach. The Revenge was visible in the water and even from this distance, Izzy could tell that it was undamaged. A dinghy was also already enroute and its passengers all immediately waved at the two of you once they spotted you. 

Edward, impatient as ever, decided he wasn’t going to wait and jumped off the dinghy and waded the last few feet of water before sprinting over to you. “Izzy! Y/N! You two okay? Nasty one that was, huh?” (Any other time, Izzy would have probably chastised him for jumping into the water like that (especially after a storm) but right now, he was just glad to see his captain was safe. )

“Izzy hit his head. Pretty sure it's not that bad but he might have a concussion.” You reported quickly. “Is everyone else all right?”

“Everyone’s fine!” Ed replied.

“The ship?” Izzy asked.

“Fine as well, Iz. No worries.” Edward assured. A pause. “Well… Aside from a few of Stede’s books.” 

Izzy rolled his eyes. Of course.

The dinghy ride back was irritating. Roach seemed determined to check Izzy for a concussion right then and there. Though, it seemed that he agreed with you. Izzy would be fine. He’d definitely feel it tomorrow but he’d live.

The moment the two of you set foot on the Revenge, Stede was there. “Oh thank goodness! We were incredibly worried! I’m very sorry about all this! The storm really surprised us.” 

Luckily, Izzy’s head had calmed enough that he could pull away from you and lean against the railing instead. He quickly glanced around, the deck was messier than usual but didn’t look all that bad. His attention couldn’t help but drift back to you…

You were giving a quick report of everything (far more professional than Stede Bonnet deserved) before presenting him with the bag full of peaches. Bonnet was quick to announce that everyone was getting some kind of peach dessert that Izzy had never heard of as a reward for making it through a storm. Izzy scoffed. The reward for making it through a storm was being alive.

As Bonnet ran to the chef so he could explain this weird dish, you walked back to Izzy, leaning against the railing next to him. “I can handle everything up here. You should probably lie down.” You explained softly.

“Don’t need to lie down.” Izzy grumbled back.

You rolled your eyes. “What’s the point of having two first mates on a ship if you can’t take a break? I’ll get Captain Ed to drag you if I must.”

“Fine.” Izzy spat. A long pause. Izzy glanced around. Everyone seemed not to be focused on the two of you. “Thank you.” He said quickly.

You smiled. “Yeah, of course. Don’t worry about it.”

“...I’m still going to be a dick.” He confessed.

That actually made you laugh and Izzy couldn’t help but think that he liked that sound. “Duh. I’m not expecting anything to change. And I’m still going to give you shit.”

Izzy chuckled himself and nodded. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You pushed off of the railing and waved goodbye. “Well, I’m off to ask Stede if I can borrow one of his shirts for a bit. See you around!”

“Good luck.” Izzy replied, both of you well aware that you were going to be dragged into Stede’s wardrobe and not return for hours. You chuckled. 

Just as expected, the moment you asked, Stede’s face lit up and you were immediately dragged off into his pastel colored hell.

Before Izzy could even take a breather, Ed was all but leaning on his shoulder. “Hi. You’re going to lie down.” His voice held the same force as an order. Izzy sighed, well aware that resistance was futile.

As Izzy was all but dragged back to his cabin, with a promise that someone would go check on him later, Ed decided to talk. “So,” His captain began with a grin that heralded problems. “Nice jacket.” Izzy’s eyes widened as he realized he was still wearing your jacket. “Guess you guys really got to know each other huh?”

“Piss off.” Izzy grumbled but made no move to take your jacket off. “My clothes were wet.”

“Ooh! So they saw you naked too?” Ed teased and Izzy all but short circuited.

“I- Ah… My shirt and vest were wet.” Izzy clarified, somewhat shakily.

Ed merely hummed. Izzy knew him well enough to know he wasn’t done. “So… when's the wedding?”

“Edward.”

A/N: Izzy’s one of my favorite characters so I have to be mean to him. Also, I've gotten a few requests for enemies to lovers with Izzy, so, there will be more coming soon. (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

#ofmd x reader #ofmd izzy #our flag means death x reader #our flag means death #izzy hands x reader #izzy has all the issues #ofmd #israel hands x reader

[honey-baby-blossom]

Peachy! - eddie munson

part one | part two

summary | Hawkins High’s resident freak convinces the librarian aide to help him finish his book report, but that might not be all she could help him with…

warnings | f!reader, size difference, flirting, mutual pining, absolutely no mention of what the duffers did

word count | 2.2k

notes | im a basic bitch what can I say? a boy has nice eyes and good hands so now I'm whipped ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

The library was finally starting to clear out, the frantic eyes and overstuffed backpacks trimming out of the herd one by one as everyone started making their way home. Midterms were always busy, but finals were hell. Your fingertips started to ache from peeling stickers and logging new books into the handwritten system you’d finally started to understand. There were still a few stragglers; freshmen waiting on their rides, a couple of sophomores apparently trying to write wedding vows inside their partner’s mouths. It was so very close to empty and as soon as it was, you were free like everybody else. 

You tried not to stare and foam at the mouth as the last kid slipped out the wide, swinging doors. Once his bouncing backpack was out of sight, you jumped to your feet and searched for the keys. Just as you found them and held them tight in your palm, the low squeal of the doors sent your excitement out the metaphorical window. You looked up wearily and the last little bit of your patience was ground into fine powder as that mess of brown hair and stupidly large matching eyes sauntered in. 

“Did the bell ring already, Peach?” he asked, his voice almost echoing through the silent and empty library. You huffed out a short breath and closed your eyes. 

“For the last time, Mr. Munson, please don’t call me that. And yes, the bell rang twenty glorious minutes ago and I would like to go home,” you said, messily gathering your things from your spot behind the counter. Eddie let out an amused snort, tossing his head back slightly. 

“I’ll stop calling you ‘peach’ when you start calling me Eddie. It’s not my fault you just couldn’t get enough of me,” he said, his smile wide across his face. 

“I always knew I’d come back to work here, it’s your fault you can’t seem to pass a single English class in all four years of high school,” you shot back, making his smile drop slightly. He sighed and let his backpack fall off his shoulder as he stepped his way up to the counter. 

“That’s why I’m here, okay? It’s the last project of the year and I’ve been doing fine but the fucking story about the guy and the wolf or whatever is kicking my ass. You’re the only one I know who might possibly be both smart enough and willing to help,” Eddie said, his eyes somber as he looked down at you in your seat. You hated his eyes. Those big, dumb, magic doe eyes could convince anybody of anything. Including you. 

“Who said I was willing?” you smirked, raising your eyebrows up at him. He stuck his tongue in the side of his cheek and let out a huff through his nose before stepping around the counter to where you sat. You turned in your rolling chair to meet him and watch as he knelt down on one knee with his hands clasped together in front of him. 

“I am begging you, oh peachy one, please have mercy on a weary idiot like me and help me with my English project so I can finally graduate,” he said, filling his voice with drama and empty formality. You hummed quietly to yourself as you thought it over in your head. After a few beats of silence he looked back up at you, his brown puppy-dog eyes boring into yours. “Please.”

“Oh alright. But only because you begged,” you smiled, nudging his knee with your foot so you could stand up. He grunted and held a fist in his victory, bouncing back onto his feet with a clap of his hands. “What’s the book again?”

Eddie squinted in thought and pushed his lips out, humming for a moment before speaking, “Big Wolf? Bay of Wolves? I don’t know, something like that.”

You let out a loud snort and tossed your head back with a laugh, causing the boy to look down at you with a pointed frown. 

“Beowulf?” you asked, still smiling with a chuckle. Eddie rolled his eyes and turned on his heels. 

“That’s what I said, Peach,” he said, scooping his bag back onto his shoulder lazily. You let out another loud laugh and pulled your own bag into your arms. 

“You realize it has absolutely nothing to do with wolves right? I don’t think there’s a wolf in the entire book,” you asked, following him out the doors. His hand made a loud smack sound as he pushed the door open, the metal of his rings connecting with the thick wood. You looked at him curiously, waiting for him to answer your question, as you stepped past him. He frowned back at you and let the door shut behind him, standing patiently as you went to lock it. 

“Then what’s it even about?” he said, his eyebrows furrowed in disapproval. 

“A warrior named Beowulf,” you answered, looking up at him over your shoulder. His eyebrows raised and he nodded in pleasant surprise. 

“Kickass name. I can respect that.”

“I’m sure the author would be overjoyed to know that the great Eddie Munson, three-time senior of Hawkins High, approves of the name,” you said, tossing your hands up dramatically as you spoke his name. You looked up at him with a proud smile and watched as he rolled his eyes, unamused. “That’s gotta be a record right? Spending a whole six years in high school?”

“Record stands at seven years. Some guy got held back for 10th twice then another two for his senior year. As long as I can pass this one, I’ll be just as good as the rest of you,” Eddie said, his voice failing to hide the dripping desperation in the back of his throat. He cleared it quickly, turning back to you with a weak smile. “Can’t always be the freak, right?”

You nodded slowly, looking back down at your feet. You never liked that label on Eddie. He was a lot of things, but freakish was a stretch. Van Halen, Kiss, ACDC, bands that were weird and heavy a couple of years ago were starting to become incredibly mainstream. Who was to say that Black Sabbath, Metallica, and Iron Maiden wouldn’t soon do the same? Plus, you had an uncle that played D&D every weekend with his work buddies over beer- it wasn’t a damn cult. 

“They still call you that?” you asked, frowning up at him slightly. He snorts and nods quickly, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Are you kidding? The closer I get to graduating, the worse it gets,” he said, holding the door at the end of the hall open for you, exposing the bright parking lot. It was pretty much empty besides a few other teachers parked on their side and Eddie’s dark van in the back corner. You chewed on your lip as you stepped past him. 

“I never liked that. Seeing them treat you differently,” you muttered. Eddie looked down at you curiously and you sucked a quick breath in. “N-Not just you. Everyone, plus you, I guess.”

You stopped in front of your old Chevy quickly, fighting off the hot pink feeling in your cheeks. He stood over you, his face breaking into a sly smile. He licked his lips and let out a quiet laugh before nodding. 

“After school tomorrow, okay? Beowulf. Sound good, Peach?” he asked, his smile still wide on his lips. 

“Sounds good, Eddie,” you answered softly, failing to beat the heat rushing to your face. He stayed in front of you for another moment, his smile dimming into a look of gentle adoration. 

“I missed you, Peachy,” he said, nudging your foot with his. You nodded slightly and looked up at him. 

“I know,” you said softly. He bit his lip and continued to stare, his liquid eyes bright in the afternoon sun. You met his gaze finally, letting his eyes read the reality and somber look in yours. He cleared his throat and nodded to himself, stepping back slowly. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked, blinking a few times. You nod with a gentle smile, reaching to open your car door as he turns away. 

He gets almost halfway through the parking lot before you stick your face out of the window and call after him, “Hey, Eds!”

He almost falls as he turns around to answer you, “Yeah?”

“Make sure you bring a pencil! You’ll need to take notes!” you shout, smiling widely after him. He laughs and nods, shaking that brown mess of hair. You roll your window back up and let out a soft sigh before turning and driving past him out of the lot. 

-Two Years Earlier-

Your body felt heavy and sluggish as you made your way to your spot at the lunch table, the precious seat left open next to the denim and leather-clad boy. You were nervous all your weight would break the cheap plastic seat as you plopped down into it and buried your face into your best friend’s shoulder, your lips pressed against the iron-on patch to his vest. 

“What is it this time?” Eddie asked, turning to wrap his arms around you loosely. 

“I saw him holding her hand. She’s a goddamn sophomore and he’s holding her hand,” you groaned, pressing your palms against your eyes. Eddie let out a sympathetic chuckle. 

“You poor thing,” he said, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head, “But maybe reconsider this never-ending crush now that you’ve seen his potentially pervish behavior and interest in underclassmen?”

“You think I don’t want to?” you huffed, sitting up straight. 

“I know you do. I’m just suggesting it,” Eddie shrugged, taking a sip of the soda in front of him. You chewed on your lip and let out a breath as you finally saw the frantic scribbles in the boy’s ratty composition book. Various fantasy buzz words were written in messy handwriting all surrounding the bold words “Hellfire Club” in the center. 

“I take it this is what you were doing instead of the classwork last period?” you smirked, pulling the book in front of you. 

“You know it,” he chuckled, leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, his thin elbow propped up on the table. 

You raised your eyebrows and held out for the pencil next to him, silently asking permission to make edits on his work. He placed it in your hand immediately and leaned closer to watch you. You quickly erased and respelled the words he wrote incorrectly: psychedelic, freakish, complexities. He hummed softly and nudged your shoulder defensively as you let out a soft sigh at the last error. 

“Can’t figure out the logo quite yet. Everything I do seems too cheesy,” he said, pushing his brown messy curls away from his face. His hair was getting long, almost past his shoulders. You liked it, but that wasn’t the kind of stuff you told each other. 

“What about this?” you asked softly, lightly tracing a cartoon devil underneath the bold words. Eddie tilted his head and nodded slightly. 

“Yeah, but more. It can’t be like anything people have seen,” he answered, taking the pencil back, his fingers intertwining with yours for a short second. You swallowed and pulled your hand back, glancing over to make sure he didn’t notice.

He boldened the lines you had started and added gills to the sides of the head, transforming the creature from classic devil to freaky demon. You nodded and took the pencil back and changed the silhouette of the eyes to be smaller, sharper, and added small lines to make the creatures fangs a little longer. 

The two of you stayed that way until the lunch bell rang, shoulders leaning over the book and handing the pencil back and forth. You fixed the lettering for the title and added the little flame over the I and the crack in the demon’s skull. Eddie added the flaming sword and glowing chain mace on either side. Just before he started to stand up and close the book you gasped and stole the pencil from his hand. Your tongue stuck out from between your lips as you quickly drew a pair of dice on either side, a D-4 and a D-20. 

You looked up at Eddie proudly, a wide smile on your face. His cheeks were a soft pink as he nodded, gently pulling the book closed and into the crook of his arm. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you. Seriously,” he sighed, pulling you into a half hug. You blushed harder and buried your face into his side. 

“Does this make me the queen of Hellfire?” you smirked, looking up at him from your seat. Eddie tossed his head back with a warm laugh and nodded.

“Forever and always, my dear,” he smiled, pressing one last kiss to the top of your head. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson drabble #stranger things #stranger things season four #stranger things x reader #stranger things spoilers

[sir-phillip-crane]

Your ex is trying to embarrass you in public, but your lover steps in as a shield, eyes ablaze in a fury. - with Keyleth, Grog, and Vax'ildan?

thanks dear!!! requests are open!!

REBLOGS > LIKES

Keyleth • Keyleth got momentarily distracted by a vendor with! Little wooden carvings!! Of animals!! • “Oh! Buttercup, come look at these! Oh, they’ve got a little sabertooth!” • Yes, she absolutely calls you buttercup, or lilac, or sunshine, or rosebud, etc. They’re all based on nature things! Of course they are, it’s Kiki! • Pretty quickly, she realizes that you aren’t there with her. Well… That’s weird. Where’d you go?? • She starts to try and find you, and it’s not too tough to find you interacting with a stranger. • What they’re doing doesn’t matter, but it’s brought the attention of a ton of strangers, and you look uncomfortable. • She immediately shoves her way through the crowd and will absolutely summon something to try and freak them out. • You know in the first fight against the Briarwoods when Keyleth summons a ton of bees and yeets them at Delilah? • She absolutely does that. • There’s more of a lead up to it. She summons them and, since they are her bees, lets them climb on her arms. • “Do you know the interesting thing about bees? When they sting, it’s a death sentence. But here’s a funny thing; these are wasps. Wasps don’t die after they sting… But you’re gonna die after, uh, after… Oh, I’m not good at quippy remarks.” • She just yeets the wasps at them, absolutely grinning ear to ear. • Then she’ll wrap an arm around you and say “they deserve that.”

Grog • “Fuck yeah, they got ale!!! Babe, babe do you want some ale!?” • He turns around and just… where? Are you? • “Babe? Hey, babe, where you at?” • He wanders around the festival for a little while, trying to find you. After asking a few vendors, he’s got an idea where you are. • And there is some bitch ass piece of shit talking to you. • Grog doesn’t know much, but he knows he fucking hates whoever that is. You look upset and are trying to get away – that’s not good. Not good at all. • He takes out VM’s bag of holding, the one with his ax and other various random shit. • Including the severed hand of that guy that he and Vax cut off. • He walks up behind you and puts his hand on your shoulder. • “’Ey babe. This guy botherin’ you?” • He pulls out the severed, partially rotted hand, and throws it at your ex. • “That’s what happened to the last guy who bothered one o’ my friends. I’d say you should get outta here-“ • He pulls out his axe • “-before somethin’ worse happens to you, yeah?” • They’re running scared before anything else is said or happens. • He grins, kisses your forehead, and asks “do you want some ale? I know I do.”

Vax’ildan • “You funny little raven, you! My finger’s not a worm! Oh, you are the cutest, aren’t you?” • He absolutely gets distracted by all of the animals he sees. Ravens are a favorite, and the aforementioned one, he absolutely will adopt. Usually he’d steal but, you know, they’re making a living from this, so… • “We’re gonna have to name you, yes we are. Oh, you are the sweetest! My little darling, my little knight-“ • His newly adopted raven croaks, flutters his wings and tries to get Vax to pay attention to the crowd gathering. • After a moment Vax does notice, and absolutely shoves his way through the crowd. • He finds Vex and “hey, hey, what’s going on?” • She explains that she should have brought her fucking bow because she wants to murder this jackass bothering you. • “You’ve your daggers, brother? If you slit their throat I’ll keep the guards from catching you. We’ve done it before.” • He sighs, “don’t bring that up. I… Let me deal with it.” • He gets a natural 20 on stealth and sneaks up behind this cunt, one of the daggers to their throat, and greets you with “hey peach, did you miss me?” • He won’t say much else, but come around to give you a peck on the lips and “meet my raven, too. I’ve yet to name him but, ah, you know. Bigger fish to fry.” • He lights up his dagger and turns around, “such as you. You know, I’ve never filleted a human. Fish, squirrels, really any animal. But not a human. That would be so fun, wouldn’t it?” • Your ex is running for the hills. • “There we go! Don’t let the door hit you on the way out! Or, or… something… Darling, are you alright?” • He’ll check on you and make sure you’re alright before- “and we need a name for my little friend here! Yes, yes we do!”

#critical role #critical role x reader #the legend of vox machina #the legend of vox machina x reader #critical role x you #critical role x y/n #the legend of vox machina x you #vax'ildan #grog strongjaw #Keyleth #keyleth of the air ashari #vax'ildan x reader #grog x reader #keyleth x reader

[zootopiathingz]

More Lumity inspired scenes for Mareach I’d like to draw but am not skilled enough

-Mario is beaten down during a fight with Bowser. Just as all hope seems lost.. “Hey!” Peach emerges from the shadows above, with the fire power-up, and declares, “Stay away from my Mario!”

-The enchanting grom fright dance. Need I go on?

-Mario and Peach having a moment that leads to the princess saying “you always have a way of sneaking into people’s hearts” before she kisses his cheek. They both freeze when they realize what she’s done. (Toad in the background nods approvingly, “bold move, princess!”) Peach’s face turns red as she quickly walks away in a panic as Mario sinks to his knees in complete awe

-Mario low key having a panic attack at the idea of playing on a sports team with Peach

-“Everything’s changed since you’ve come here, Mario. Being around you, it— makes me do stupid things and I wish it didn’t!” “It’s okay, I.. I do stupid things around you too, princess…” (yes I gotta include the sad ones too)

-When Mario finally decides to make his move; “Things are so crazy right now and I have no idea what my future holds but..it would be so cool if you were in it, so…” He struggles for a minute, psyching himself up to finally get the words out. But Peach quickly interrupts with, “Do you wanna go out with me??” He lets out a breath and sinks in defeat, “Nooo I was so ready!” She giggles and insists he say it anyway, to which he smiles and finally asks “Princess Peach, will you go out with me?” (Ofc she excitedly answers with a yes)

-Once they start dating they have to constantly remind people they’re together. Especially Peach. She goes “oh yes I am Mario’s girlfriend!” “As Mario’s girlfriend I’ll do that!” every five seconds

-A situation where they’ve been separated for some time, and Mario manages to find her again. They happily reunite with a hug, that leads to Peach initiating a passionate kiss. “Crickey!” Says the plumber as they pull away. Peach widens her eyes in disbelief, “I can’t believe I just did that..” Mario shakes his head, “I can’t believe I just said that!”

#mareach #mareach headcanons #mario x peach #super mario bros #super mario bros movie #lumity #mareach as lumity just works ok? #owl house

[trashogram]

Powser Fanfic idea I’m *this* close to writing but also may never write bc I’ve been trying and it’s so hard:

So in the Super Mario Bros movie canon, it came across to me like Peach and Bowser had never actually met before when he invades her kingdom in the third act of the film.

Going by that, I have a Love at First Sight AU but it’s not exactly mushy and sweet. Instead, it’s more dealing with the fallout, which I personally find interesting?

Peach has only heard about Bowser and seen him in images and illustrations, and word-of-mouth, since she arrived in the Mushroom Kingdom and has always been made to feel weary. Whereas Bowser has “seen” the Princess but only from a distance and yes he has a crush on her which only intensifies the more he hears about her.

But the idea of Love At First Sight, a heralded phenomenon in this world, applying to them? Insane! It’s not even a possibility, hasn’t happened and won’t ever happen… right?

Well, the trope relies on making eye contact with your soulmate to actually establish that connection in this case so just - Peach is ready to fight for her kingdom and her subjects while Bowser is prepared to offer her the Star power-up as part of his proposal just like in the movie, until…

They lock eyes, and it’s instantly the most wonderful and terrible thing to ever happen. Peach goes through a torrent of emotions, including the 5 stages of grief when she realizes she’s meant to be with a tyrant that she’s at complete odds with and whose caused wanton destruction and who indirectly killed her friend Mario, and also she feels this stubborn desire not to heed the pull because she hates not being in control of this.

On the opposite side, Bowser is… terrified. He’s conflated his crush on Peaches with “finally being happy” and has sort of deluded himself into believing that that’s all love is but when he actually falls in love, it’s painful. It comes with guilt and confusion and he feels so unlike himself that Bowser almost wants to take it all back and hide in his shell because he can practically feel the hurt he’s caused Peach and it actually makes him feel like an unforgivable monster.

Then Mario and DK come back and immediately there’s this strange vibe going on. Bowser’s prisoners are free and Mario is overjoyed to be reunited with Luigi, but also Peach is acting odd. Bowser and his koopas are kind of just hanging around before Cranky Kong and Toadsworth (whose here in this AU bc I say so) are having a shouting match and Mario feels like he’s the last to figure out that Peach and Bowser are actually going to get married as a way to start fixing things politically, and how did being transported to a magical mushroom world via sewer pipe suddenly become so complicated???

#peach x bowser #super mario bros movie spoilers #bowser #princess peach #powser #I can see it vividly in my head but writing it? tooooo hard