#I'm only missing a good Peach at this point really

[emile-hides]

Behold. Son.

[norikuna]

THE BOLTER ★ naoya zenin

prologue ⋆ ★ whoever said 'love at first sight' was lying, this is more like loathe at first sight. unfortunately, it seems like you and naoya zenin are stuck in the same boat together.

but at least the two of you can put on a great show.

pairing ⋆ ★ naoya zenin x reader genre tags & warnings ⋆ ★ afab!reader, arranged marriage, enemies/rivals, first meetings, outdated views on marriage and wives, public consummàtion, éxhibitionism, voyéurism, ooc naoya to a point but he's still a massive jerk, aphrodisiàcs, mild overuse of bloody/fruit symbolism, oràl (f. receiving), reader pushes naoya into a koi pond, gojo cameo (he wants to go home 😱)

word count ⋆ ★ 9k a/n ⋆ ★ i watched my lady jane 😭 could be a part two to this, or series of husband!naoya but idk...🤷‍♂️

"Stop fidgeting. You look like you're about to bolt any second," Naoya mutters, his voice low, biting through clenched teeth. Sharp, amber-glazed eyes slide sideways to lock onto you, dark brows pulled together in irritation. He's still got that plastic smile in place for the elders, a façade of civility that's only skin deep.

You meet his gaze with a smile that could cut glass, all sweet and syrupy, the kind of smile a bride's supposed to wear. Serene, demure, perfect. But you know better, and so does Naoya Zenin.

Oh, how I wish I could just walk right out of here, you think, lips curling just a fraction. You can barely keep the sneer from slipping through. "Well, I'm looking for the nearest exit," you murmur, barely above a whisper, voice as sweet as honey, "All I can smell is that stupid cologne of yours, and it's making me sick. Did you seriously bathe in it, or something?"

You can see the flush violently flash over peach-toned skin, first his cheeks, and then the tips of ears. Naoya's fingers twitch, hidden beneath the voluminous green sleeves of his haori, betraying his irritations. You can tell he's just dying to throttle you right about now.

"No wonder your clan sold you off like a broodmare," he hisses, venom dripping from his words, sickly sweet with malice, "I bet they couldn't wait to get rid of you."

You heroically bite back the urge to stab him with something sharp. You know it would have been so easy, to have a blade hidden in the folds of your robes. God, it would feel so good to shove it right between his ribs.

Instead, you take a delicate step forwards, sandals clicking softly on the polished floor. The attendants bustle behind you, their soft paces blending with the thick air that's rich with incense, pine, and the sweet smell of roasted chestnuts.

"How sad that Naobito Zenin had to buy a wife for his youngest son. Desperation really doesn't suit you, Naoya," you keep your tone placid and amiable, "Though, let's be honest, most things don't really look good on you."

You can feel Naoya bristle next to you, the faintest tremour in his posture. It feels nice to have struck a clean crack through his iron-clad composure. Victory tastes so sweet.

Without missing a beat, Naoya slides his hand over yours, the picture of practiced, marital tenderness as the two of you approach the threshold of the feast hall. All eyes are on you now, the guests straightening in anticipation. But the slender pads of his fingers are pinching at the flesh of forearm, sharp enough that they would be leaving an impression.

You wrinkle your nose, fighting the urge to wince. His grip is painful, and even though you want to pull away, you're not giving the moron the satisfaction of hearing you gasp.

"Yes," Naoya murmurs, too charming to be sincere, his voice dripping with false affection, "And how sad that out of all the mouthy, insufferable wenches in the world, I got saddled with you."

"Well, someone's mad," you sigh melodramatically, lowering yourself onto the cushions at the head of the table, folding your legs beneath your copious layers of silk, "Stay mad. And ugly."

Your new husband scoffs, sinking beside you, as his long limbs stretch out with lazy grace before crossing them. He looks far too comfortable for your liking. You wish someone had scattered tack needles under him, just to watch him yelp.

You watch quizzically as Naoya reaches across the low table, drawing a slice of pickled radish from the porcelain bowl. You watch, blinking, curious even as well-manicured nails balance the slide between elegant fingers.

He just flings it at you. The sodden radish hits you square in the forehead, the cold and wet slice dropping into your lap with an unsatisfying plop!

Bitch.

See, you already had been having an awful day. The kind that dragged you through the mud and left you feeling as though you had been drowned in your own perspiration.

Trudging through the gates of the Zenin estate, as the sweltering summer heat drowned you in sticky humidity. The estate was sprawling, its grandeur suffocating — all sharp angles, and lacquered panels of wood. Meticulous gardens designed less for beauty, rather for flexing obscene amounts of wealth.

The Zenins did not lack for wealth, that was for certain. But taste? Subtlety? Humility? Those were luxuries that they couldn't seem to afford. Whoever said money couldn't buy class had clearly been familiar with the big three clans of the jujutsu world.

It wasn't just the heat. It wasn't just the estate. It was all this, from this stupid contract to the commitment, to your life here. Your new home.

The summer heat clung to you, heavy and wet, like a damp cloth draped over your shoulders, sapping any energy you had left.

Eventually, you'd given up entirely on the elegant cushions and carved chairs of your new quarters, opting to morosely plant yourself cross-legged on the cool, polished floor. It wasn't graceful, but at least it was comfortable.

Attendants fluttered around you like busy little bees, arms laden with swathes of silk and intricate jewellery in shades of forest green. They moved in perfect sync, as though their every motion was rehearsed for the new bride. And you, well, you were supposed to sit still, look pretty, and wait for whatever nonsense came next.

But fuck that. Proper propriety be damned. The heat had you feeling too raw, too suffocated. So, you had been stripped away from the layers of heavy silk and ceremonial robes. Left in nothing but a thin, creamy-white cotton yukata. It hung loosely from your frame, clinging to your skin in the oppressive humidity, beads of sweat gathering at the back of your neck.

And just as you had settled into the most brief, fragile sense of peace, the soft groan of a sliding door shattered it all. A servant stepped inside, shoulders stiff as their eyes fell upon you. As though they could sense your sour mood.

"He will see you now," the servant said, eyes lowered, voice tight, "In the gardens."

He. Naoya Zenin. Your soon-to-be husband, for the evening's grand spectacle and festivities.

A pit began to twist uncomfortably in your stomach. You had never even met this man. Hell, you didn't even know what he sounded like, nor what he looked like up close, what kind of man he really was.

Everything about this arrangement had been handled by clan elders, who were more concerned with keeping up appearances than with any personal connection. Their mouths were always full of flowery promises, and backhanded compliments, none of which did anything to ease the sinking feeling that made a home in your gut.

The reviews on Naoya Zenin though? Those were more consistent than the elders' pleasantries.

Arrogant? Check. Irritating? Beyond measure. A man with a superiority complex the size of the country? Absolutely, what a shock. Naoya Zenin was the youngest son of one of the wealthiest clan heads in Japan, so entitlement practically ran through his veins as though it were his birthright.

The one thing everyone seemed to agree on, though? The man was handsome, fine-featured. Of course, they'd say that to placate you, as though a pretty face could somehow excuse all the other bullshit. But you weren't quite in the market for a glorified Adonis as a trophy husband.

With a resigned sigh, you trudged forward. Each step felt heavier than the last, the sound of your sandals echoing on the winding stone path that stretched out before you. You tried to ignore the fatigue that settled in your bones, the faint feeling akin to that of a medieval monk walking towards his doom.

Your first impression of Naoya Zenin? You didn't like his voice.

"Weren't you meant to be here an hour ago?" He's calling, tone smooth and melodic. But there's a languid air about it, and whiny. You don't know nor understand why, but it makes your skin crawl.

You narrow your eyes at the back of his figure, perched lazily on a rock, legs swinging carelessly over the edge. Naoya's broad back is turned to you, gaze fixed on the iridescent koi gliding lazily through the pond beneath him. He hadn't even bothered to look at you yet.

First impressions were everything, so you did your damn best to hold back from snapping, "My apologies. There was a...delay," you bite out, your fingers tugging impatiently to tighten the sash of the thin robe around your waist.

You had half a mind to just turn around and leave, but no, it just wasn't in your lucky cards. Not when your family had practically signed you away to the Zenin clan, forevermore and all that nonsense.

Naoya lets out an exaggerated sigh, all long and drawn-out, as though your presence is enough to inconvenience him. His head tilts lazily, turning just enough to throw a half-lidded, uninterested stare in your direction.

"Well? Don't just stand there. I'm not going to bite."

The restraint it took to not roll your eyes could have won you sainthood. Still, you refrained. Barely. You hoped your expression conveyed what you really wanted to say. I am mentally chasing you around with a big stick and a hornet of wasps, but I'm refraining because I'm polite and I was raised right.

Reluctantly, you step forward, just as the wind picks up while you move. Sweeping the light cotton fabric around your legs in a way that made you wish for anything but these damp robes. You certainly don't miss at how Naoya's golden eyes widen in mild interest, tracing every curve of your figure. Warmth flushing down the back of your neck, and not just from summer's golden glare.

But then, your betrothed scowls, "Too good for the Zenin robes, are you?"

You cross your arms over your torso, the motion defensive. Naoya's gaze suddenly drops again to the pushed swell of your chest, lingering far too long.

"It's hot."

Naoya suddenly shrugs, all primped arrogance in his charcoal-gray and forest-green robes, like some ashen leaf springing obstinately out of cold winter ground. "Whatever. You seem adequate, I suppose," he flicks a hand dismissively, "I don't care for this attitude of yours, but you'll do for everything else."

"I'll do?" Your voice pitches an octave higher, incredulous, "What the hell does that mean?"

Naoya begins counting on long, slender fingers. As though he's sizing you up, checking boxes, "What do you think I mean? Just the usual requirements for a wife. Pleasing to the eye, which you are, I'll admit. But it's much less pleasant when you aren't smiling."

You spot a loose stone skittering on the mossy earth. You could absolutely brain him with that, right here. Right now.

But the man doesn't let up, "And of course, childbearing hips." He's waving a dismissing hand, "Well, clearly, I can see you have those. Tch', don't make that face. And a bit of wit for conversation — I refuse to marry an empty airhead. I mean, can you imagine?" Naoya's laughter is sharp, all glossy red lips over sharp fangs, "Docile, obviously. I think that might need some work, but — hey!"

Before you could think better of it, your hands are on him. Pushing, shoving, your frustration boiling over as your palms meet the flat, toned planes of his chest. The satisfaction of sending him tumbling back, of stupid, pretty golden eyes going wide as he flails, arms caught in the air. Priceless.

And then, with a splash! He disappears into the pond, the koi scattering like flashes of colour. Your betrothed surfaces slowly with a snarl, water dripping from his golden head of hair, plastering it flat. A piece of moss hangs awkwardly to Naoya's template as you stand over him, chest heaving.

"Harebrained! Idiotic! Empty-headed! Shallow, pompous, arrogant!" The words tumble from you, reckless and from the depths of your sudden-found hatred, "Rocks for brains! No wonder no-one wants to marry you, with that stupid, backwards nonsense. And your voice, it's stupid! And, well, there's clearly a lightbulb off in that oversized skull of yours. Don't you ever, ever say things like that to me again!"

For a moment, Naoya says nothing. He's only staring up at you with his mouth pressed into a thin, flat line. You realise in that brief silence, that you betrothed bears an unsettling resemblance to an angry, speckled hyena.

Rather than offer a rebuttal, or heaven forbid, an apology, a sodden arm shoots forward, fast as a viper, clamping around your ankle. And the world tilts.

"Don't you dare! Wait — no!"

He yanks at you hard, and with a sharp yelp, you tumble straight into the water beside him. Cool, refreshing water slaps your face as you sputter, wiping thin algae from your cheek. The koi scatter, unimpressed by human antics.

You're gasping as the chill must surely be soaking through your thin yukata, giving...quite the view to the eyes of others. No wonder Naoya's suddenly smirking, and you can see rosy lips part to deliver some awful, sleazy comment.

"Not a bad sight, don't you — mmph!"

You've scooped as much water as your hands can manage, flinging it straight at his face — watching as Naoya Zenin splutters, pinning you with a glowering stare that could cut through glass.

You were still simmering hours later.

The sun had already shifted, sinking deeper into the afternoon, but the humidity clung to the air like a thick and suffocating blanket. You were scowling at absolutely nothing, letting the maids drape you in layers of deep, emerald silk that shone like fresh leaves after the rain. Edges embroidered with delicate golden vines and flowers that twisted around your limbs.

You barely felt the soft hands of the maids as they pressed cool, rosewater-soaked pads to your cheeks and the crook of your neck. Idly wondering if they had plucked out every last remnant of pond water and scum that clung to your hair.

One of the older woman, with a sharp and matronly face, walked up to you, a platter balanced gently in her hands. At first, you didn't even register what she was offering, too preoccupied with nursing your own misery. But the food looked absolutely perfect, delicate rolls that had been sliced so neatly they could have come from an Imperial painting.

You raised an eyebrow, "Shouldn't I eat after the ceremony?"

The woman gave a knowing glance to the other maids, but then her gaze flicked back to you. Careful. "This will help with your appetite for the latter half of the ceremony," as though she were choosing each word precisely, "It is...custom. Master Zenin would also partake in this tradition. It will make things easier."

Easier, huh? You stare at the plate again, and not that you didn't appreciate it, but if they really wanted to settle you nerves — they could have offered you a rolled blunt. But sure. Why not?

With a little sigh of resignation, you popped one of the sweet rolls into your mouth. The flavour was fresh, like citrus. Something like yuzu, perhaps? There's a hint of honey, and an odd aftertaste that lingers at the back of your throat, a touch bitter. You narrow your eyes, for it is something like ginseng.

You take a second roll, letting the smooth cream slide along your tongue, as you click your teeth. Well, if it would calm you down enough to keep you from throwing Naoya Zenin off the temple stairs, then...sure. You'd eat the whole damn platter if it meant you would be able to fight the urge to punt bricks at him.

And so, this circles you back to the beginning your sordid tale. The rooms buzzing with voices, and clinking porcelain in celebration, but somehow, all you can focus on is the man sitting beside you.

Naoya's practically been ignoring everything on his plate, pushing food aside with passive disinterest. Meanwhile, you've been aching for a good meal, your hand moving to scoop another bite of soft, fragrant rice. The nobles and elders have been weaving their way around, painted with polite and practiced smile — an endless cycle of verdant-draped Zenins, crimson-robed Kamos, and more clans all looking to suck up to Naobito Zenin.

There's another man, swathed in a vibrant, dark blue. You watch as Naoya stiffens as the white-haired man doesn't bow, just shuffles forward. As though his presence is more of a courtesy rather than a display of genuine well-wishes.

"Gojo," your husband is muttering, petulant all of a sudden.

The white-haired man grunts, blindfold wrapped around the upper half of his face, "Zenin." You swear you can feel his eyes on you, and there's something unnerving about the way he moves through the room, as though he can see much and more, without nary a glance.

So, that was Gojo Satoru.

You feel someone tug at your sleeves, and Naoya's golden eyes are still fixed on Gojo's broad back with a sharp, defensive gaze, "Stop looking. It looks stupid as fuck. And he'll still see."

You blink, wrenching your arm away from his cold grasp, "How? He's got that —," you gesture to your eyes, "That thing on."

Naoya scowls, fangs poking underneath curled lips, "Trust me. He can see better than anyone here."

"Is that why you're scared of him, or something?"

Naoya's jaw tightens, and he reaches for a platter of fruit, a pomegranate globe falling into the palm of his hand, "I am not. Tch', watch your words."

"Or what? You'll push me into the koi pond?" You snipe, watching him, fascinated despite yourself. His hands are elegant, precise, even. Tearing into the fruit with a casual brutality that makes something flicker oddly deep in your chest.

The juice, rich and ruby red, drips lazily down his fingers, following the slope of his knuckles. Staining the fine silk of his sleeves in a losing fight. As though the fruit had been desperate to remain whole before Naoya split it.

How strikingly brutal to witness. There's something almost obscene about the mess he makes, how the juice is pooling thinly on the silk. How the sweetness of the fruit is ruined by the way it's overpowered.

You think your new husband is the kind of man who would see a dangerous sort of beauty in the way he wrecks things.

But Naoya has surely noticed your stare. The corner of his rose-teak mouth twitches as he looks up from his conquest, fingers still dripping with thin crimson.

"Something wrong, wife?" He's asking, voice slick with amusement. You faintly wonder why there's a low buzz in your ears.

The question is sharp-toned, but there's something underneath his smooth voice that almost dares you to continue watching. As if he's aware of the effect of proxy brutality. You want to scowl, to look away, to prove that you aren't transfixed by the bleeding mess of an awful man.

"Nothing at all," you reply, and voice is colder than you'd intended — all to mask the faint trace of fascination that lingers in your tone.

Naoya glowers at you, lazily lifting his hand to capture the blood-red streak with the tip of his tongue. The faintest trace of wine marking the curve of his jaw. What an oddly intimate gesture, one that shouldn't be nearly as captivating as it is.

With a casual flick, he's breaking off a piece of the pomegranates flesh. White and succulent, with the little arils clinging to the flesh like jewels.

"Be a good wife, and open your mouth."

You glance down at the fruit in his hand, irritation flickering at the back of your throat. Licking acidic flames in your chest, "I'm not hungry anymore."

Naoya doesn't even bat an eye, his gaze already bored as he leans back, unimpressed by your resistance. Infuriatingly arrogant in his manner, "Don't want people thinkin' there's something wrong with my bride. Go on, open."

With a sharp, deliberate sigh, you part your lips. Heat suddenly coiling tight sinews around your hips. Eyes locked onto his hazy, copper gaze with the slightest flicker of defiance.

Naoya tips the arils into your mouth, and you take the opportunity to nip at his fingers, pointed and sharp. Just enough to make him jerk back in surprise. His eyes narrow, and for a moment, you see conflicted disgust flash across his face.

But the taste, the sweet and tangy burst of juice on your tongue, it catches you entirely off guard. It's blooming across your senses, like the most unexpected pleasure. The tartness of the fruit lingering longer than you'd anticipate. Despite yourself, you almost lean into it.

Naoya's expression tightens as he wipes his hand on the edge of his robes, so irritated. But a flicker of something darker passes across his features. Whether it's annoyance, or loathing, or something else, you cannot tell.

"Better now?" Naoya mutters, voice thick with irritation as though you'd personally dragged him through a field of thorns.

"All thanks to you," you reply, sardonic sugar snapping through your teeth. Wiping the corner of your mouth with a lazy swipe of your thumb, smearing away the fruit's crimson stain.

Naoya's grumbling something under his breath about summoning Ten Shadows to whisk him out of this ridiculous wedding feast. Something far more sharp and acerbic follows, but it's not able to cut through your growing haze.

You're about to respond when his hand — warm, and rough, replaces your own. Thumb pressing against your lower lip with a firm, almost possessive and angry drag. Wiping away the sticky remnants of the juice.

Without thinking, or without fully understanding why, you let your tongue dart forward, brushing the pad of his thumb. A slow, deliberate gaze. Teeth follow, with dull pressure, as you pull the digit just a little further into your mouth.

You can feel the shift almost immediately.

Naoya goes still, the barest hitch of breath betraying him before he yanks his head back like you'd scalded him. But not before you catch the faintest tremour in his grip, or the way his sharp eyes darken. His neck flushes, a telltale searing burst of heat creeping up beneath the golden fall of his hair.

"They give you something before the ceremony?" His tone is off, almost accusing, as he's clearing his throat. Glowering at you, as if you're to blame for the crack in his insurmountable arrogance.

You shrug, fingers brushing the rim of your shallow cup. Letting cool water trickle down your suddenly parched throat, "Yeah. Something 'bout relaxing me. Or making things easier." You frown, a little breathless, wondering why heat coils in your chest, and prickles at the nape of your neck, "It didn't do anything at the time though."

Naoya stares at you for a beat too long, his teeth catching his lower lip. Worrying the plush, pink flesh — dragging a thin, cold hand through flaxen hair, rifling pale green roots.

And then, your new husband's scoffing, "Same here. Not that I need help performing there." His gaze is sweeping over you again, slow and deliberate. His eyes trace the curve of your mouth, the swan-slope of your throat. The heat of his amber eyes make your skin prickle, tugging at something just beneath the surface.

"I think you'll make it easy enough."

Your pulse kicks against your ribs. Eyes snapping to him, ignoring the dull throb low in your groin, and how each breath of air seems so much sweeter and heavier, "Make what easy?"

Naoya's expression wavers, just for a second — enough to give you a glimpse of his own faltering composure. As though he's genuinely fearing that you're that clueless, cocking a dark brow with an edge of incredulity.

"You don't think that platform's there for show, do you?" He's knocking his head back towards the dais behind the two of you. The plush, emerald cushions scattered over velvet drapes that pool at the sides. Ornate and so uncomfortably obvious for all those who have eyes.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Naoya's metallic eyes glint with triumph, watching the realisation dawn on your features like it's the best entertainment he's had all evening. His lips curling into something that's more of a lion's grin, rather than a smile, "You're not that stupid, are you?"

"I'm not!" You snap, "I just didn't think — I didn't realise, it was going to be...there." You're jabbing a jewel encrusted finger at the platform, not caring which fussy elder sees.

Naoya's grin sharpens, teeth flashing with unrestrained, wolfish amusement. Jerking his chin towards the dias, "Yes. Right there. What'd you think? Some privacy, or maybe, a little mood lighting?

Your scowl hardens like stone, "Well, no. But —"

Your husband sarcastically interrupts you, chopping the air with one hand, "No, no. You're right. Why didn't we think about setting the mood? Lanterns, maybe? Candles, or how about a live string quartet for m'wife just because she said so?"

Your glower deepens, a slow burn crawling beneath your skin. You forgo the water this time, opting instead for the nearest cup of sake. The burn of it sears your throat, a welcome distraction.

"You'd think people would drop this kinda' thing by now," you mutter, swallowing hard as the air seems so much warmer, "It's the 21st century, for god's sake."

Naoya shrugs, the silk of his robes shifting as you can watch a thin drop of perspiration roll into the crook of his neck — you wonder if he's just as affected as you are right now. Wondering who will crack first. "I don't mind watching. Or being watched."

The sake nearly comes back up, "You're obscene."

A soft hum, dark and amused, slips from his throat. Then a finger, his finger, hooks beneath the curve of your jaw. Titling your head towards him with a hardened pressure that feels surprisingly gentle in this hazy state.

"M'wife wants me to take them out instead?" Naoya's voice is a lazy drawl, but there's a dangerous gleam in his amber-shard eyes. Thumb skimming lower, tracing the delicate dip of your collarbone as a shiver prickles down your spine, "Force them all away so I get ya' all to m'self?"

You swallow hard, breath hitching as his hand lingers, "Yeah. Because I'm sure you could take on an entire room of sorcerers. Jus' so we could —"

The corners of Naoya's mouth twitch, his eyes dark with something almost hungry. And jeering, "Just say the word."

Your gaze flickers to the far corner of the room. Gojo Satoru sits there, arms folded across his opulent, oceanic yukata. The head of the Gojo clan looks thoroughly put-out, sandwiched between two elderly women that gossip into his ears. His white hair gleams under the warm lanterns, and you're certain that Six Eyes can catch every word being passed through this room.

"No-one can land a hit on Master Gojo," you murmur, voice slow and syrupy. The heat in your blood feels unnatural, liquid fire curling beneath your skin, pooling low in your belly. Your head is swimming by now, heavy and light all at once.

And there's Naoya's stupid, stupid cologne. Something dark, and wooden. Edged with a sharp spice, clouding your senses and tangling with the sweet, heady ache that builds in your chest. It's all too much, his nail dragging into the tender skin of your neck. Just over your jumping bulse.

The worst part? Your body betraying all rational thoughts, leaning into your husband. To find yourself closer to this man that you do not like. Entitled. Arrogant. The heir to the Zenin clan is fuckin' awful.

"Mhm, perhaps they can all watch then. Stay as I fuck my wife, yeah?" Naoya says, low and quiet. But there's no softness to it, only possession. A claim that crackles at you, sends you hurtling towards no good end.

"You know I don't like you, right?" You breathe, marvelling at how little it would take to close this distance, with nary a care for whose eyes have turned to you now.

A huff of laughter escapes your husband, warm and bitter, "I don't quite like you either." His hands have found the edges of your robes, teasing the silken fabric, and for a moment, Naoya Zenin looks almost thoughtful. Except that priggish smirk never quite leaves his face. His peach-tinged skin flushes darker, and his glassy eyes flicker, "But they wanted a show, right? Wanna' give it to them?"

You don't even wait to consider. Ignoring the protests of the elders, who jump and claim that these things have to be done in all due time, with proper ceremony.

The kiss is fast, furious. Lips crashing into his before the words have fully left his mouth. You taste rich and tangy fruit on his tongue, and it's both maddening, and so sweet, mixing with the sake that's drenched your mouth.

Naoya's faint sound of surprise, the soft grunt as he sinks into the kiss? Hiking a toned arm around your waist to pull you closer as the audience gasps? That's a victory.

You drag your mouth back, letting clingy and cloying strands of slick linger in between your lips. You've been pulled right onto your husband's lap, perched on his emerald, jewel-toned haori. Taking in the sight of Naoya briefly speechless, warm and angrily flushed.

"Not playin' fair," Naoya seethes, "K-know your place, wife."

But you're too far gone now to entertain his bullshit, pawing at the edges of his robes. Swivelling your hips down so you can have some pressure applied where you need it most. Right over there, a thick and solid curve that has the both of you gasping, "M' so, hah, feelin' so faint."

Naoya groans, and curls his fingers over the nape of your neck, forcing you to look down at him from your perched position, "L-listen to me all proper, an' I can fix that."

"Enough!" A sharp voice cuts through the heat between you, splintering like glass shattering on stone. You blink, dazed as dew begins to gather on your lashes, just in time to see a twitching elder standing at the edge of the room, face blotchy red beneath a crown of thinning white hair. He's shaking a bony finger in your direction, pale robes swishing, "Enough of this depravity!"

"There are proper proceedings to this ceremony, to this consummation." His voice is rising, veins straining in his neck as the room is silent, "Not whatever this is!" Waving his hands now, as though his gestures are enough to warrant purification.

You try to muster some level of embarrassment, some shame as the eyes of the room fall on the two of you. But all you feel is a thick ache and thrum of heat still simmering, pulse skipping in your throat. Your lips tingle from where they touched Naoya's, tasting of sake and sugar, and —

Oh. His lips. You glance at your husband, whose mouth is still glossy and swollen from your kiss.

Naoya's barely turned his head towards the outburst. He's already running his hands down your robes, doing his utter best to undo whatever he can. To lave sharp fangs over skin, and leave blooming marks. He's languid, half-lidded, with a wicked spark of amusement dancing in his eyes.

He looks thoroughly unbothered, tongue flicking lazily over his lower lip, "Proper proceedings?" Naoya drawls, the corner of his mouth tilting into a smirk that makes you desperate to catch it, "Isn't a little late for that? Hah, I mean, ya' spiked m'wife and I. How are y'not shocked when she's panting over me like a bitch in heat?"

The elder turns a deeper shade of red, spluttering as he gestures to the raised dais and neatly arranged cushions. You press your lips together to hold back a thin whine. Naoya, having pawed at your ceremonial robes enough, has been sinking teeth over the swell of your breast, making you gasp.

"The platform! The customs and —"

There's a crowd of eyes on you. The elders, the clan heads, the nobles, the sorcerers. All of them, scattered through the room, lingering like ghosts. Some, you think, have left for sanctity. You're not sure when, your mind is still a haze of warmth, and confusion, and lust. Too caught up in the way that Naoya's fingers brush and dig into your waist.

But there are others still here. Stubborn, and not powerful enough to grant themselves leave, and so, they cannot claim the right to exit. You're aware of silent whispers, of the way they lean in and keel over. Faces pinched in curiosity, discomfort, as though you're a prized creature in a zoo that they both hesitate and marvel to look upon.

With no choice but to watch the Zenin heir with his hand on your waist, his new bride of the clan. The future madam that they're now forced to acknowledge.

"N-Naoya," you mumble, tearing your nails into the fine haori. Some desperate hope to expose searing skin to the air, already sweltering in the summer heat, "Can't we jus' -"

Your husbands tuts, pressing a firm finger to your candied lips, "Shh! Gotta' make sure m'silly wife knows how to speak up. So everyone can hear, try again." He sounds almost pained, and you wonder how Naoya Zenin hasn't absolutely lost his mind by now. For you feel as though gauze has been draped over you, casting a veil over your senses.

You hear someone mutter disdainful murmurs, something about a spoiled Zenin brat indulging his good-for-nothin' wife.

You can see the flash of anger, and the promise of blood cross Naoya's face, so you seek to roll your hips against his once more, "Jus' thinkin', y'know," you gasp against his slack jaw, "Why don't we jus' move to the platform? I mean, they wanna see, right?"

Naoya's nodding, sandy hair falling into his eyes, "Hah, yeah. That's right. Wanted a show, and that's what we said we've give, jus' gotta hope you can keep up."

He's sweeping you up, hand tight around your wrist as he pulls you over in a brief stumble, pushing you down over the dais. Over green, plush sheets as he splays you out, "Better like this? Tsk, 'ts for me to decide, not you, wifey. And 'm thinking, I like this view so much more."

You're struck by the sight of Naoya Zenin, and it hits you like a sudden wave. Sharp, and bitter, and so impossible to ignore. It's that feeling again, the way you had stomached the creamy rolls on the platter. The same kind of cloying tang that hits the back of your throat when you swallow too fast. The ginseng, and sweet citrus.

His eyes are still glassy, pupils unfocused, and it's the shimmer of tears clinging to the dark, long lashes framing his eyes that make you pause. Crystalline, fragile. But he's already ahead of you, moving faster than you can think, swatting your hand away with forceful grace, pressing his mouth to the corner of yours.

"You jus' gonna keep lookin' at me?" You murmur, reeling from the searing heat of his mouth. Taking in the sight of mussed golden hair, green roots entirely out of place. The divot of creamy, tanned skin from where his robes have loosened.

Naoya blinks, shaking his head as if he's trying to clear it, "You gotta' tell me where you wan' it first." Lips parting, as if he's suddenly not sure what to say to you, like he's drinking in the sight of you and he can't stop.

He's patting a hand to your chest, cupping the swell in your robes, "I don't know if you wan' me here," and then, he's dragging a hand lower still, hand folded over the thick robes that cover your thighs, "Or, here. Probably got ya' weepin' like a poor, little slut down there."

You scowl back at him, "Watch it, 'm not a slut."

Naoya grins, all wolfish canines, "Wasn't talkin' about ya'. Was talkin' about her." Giving you a loving pat in between your legs, "Thinkin' if I pushed these stupid robes right up, everyone could see you drip right onto my waiting hand."

You gasp, pushing your hands onto his broad chest, groaning as his fingers trail further down. Pulling the silk of your robes up further, so your thigh meets cool air, "Can I request a-anything, then?"

Naoya hums, lips pursing as his brow quirks, mocking even, "Wasn't planning on givin' in to ya' so easily, but just this once. Only 'cause it's our wedding night, don't you think?"

"Wan' your mouth."

You see a flash of something pass over Naoya's face. As though he's warring with himself, some obstinate spirit telling him otherwise, but he shakes his head, almost amused, "Y'know, I should have sent ya' back the minute you pushed me into tha' stupid pool. Shoulda' demanded another one. A wife that isn't so mouthy."

He's chuckling now, splaying your thighs further apart with rough hands, an odd sort of deference painting his fine features, "And now look at what you've got me doin', hey?"

Naoya's tutting at you, shaking his head in faux disappointment when you whine in embarrassment, "This is what you wanted, right? For me to show e-everyone jus' how wet you are. I mean, hah, look at this."

Pinning the thickest part of your silken robes over your abdomen, so your legs were bare, parted so he could slot in-between. Amber eyes almost bewildered as he took in the deep, swollen outline of your glossy cunt underneath flimsy garments, "Sittin' there like this, the entire time?" Naoya whistles low, cold and cutting, "I mean, fuck, ya' can really see everything here."

"Shut u-up," you sputter, hearing your own pulse thrum in your ears, in-between your legs. You barely have a chance to take in syrupy air once more, for Naoya's hand is there, swift and firm, pressing over your mouth. Fingers cool against your skin, it's not harsh. But it's forceful enough to swallow your words, as his eyes light up with that familiar, mocking amusement.

"Careful now, wifey," he's grinning, looking far too pleased, "Ya' don't get to give me orders, 'm gonna be doing you a favour."

Naoya doesn't seem burdened by this, not at all. In fact, if anything, he looks downright pleased, like the sight of your weeping, drizzling cunt before his eyes is a golden opportunity that he intends to savour.

He's got an icy finger sliding over the waistband of your gauzy, flimsy undergarments, toying for a brief second. You can see it in the way his beastly fangs curl into a grin, like he's getting off on the scandal of it all. Of having everyone watch in quiet silence as he suddenly tugs. Hard.

The fabric splits with a squelching hiss, thick and sludgy, as you gasp, feeling the heat throbbing in your pussy swell as the cool air hits where you're most sensitive, "You ass, t-those weren't cheap."

Naoya rolls his eyes, amber disappearing into white, "So?" He's drawling, looking up at you from between your thighs, "What, you think I'm some broke bitch?" He's popping a single, long digit into his mouth. Having swiped a curious hand through your glistening folds, marvelling at the slick, translucent strands that followed him. Tongue flicking over the tip like he's savouring something, "Fuck, you're kinda' sweet. Heh, who woulda' thought?"

You open your mouth to protest, but he doesn't even give you the chance. Not even a mere second to form the words, for his hand is patting your cheek. Leaving something sticky and cool lingering on flushed, warm skin. Your own arousal glimmering in the lantern light, upon your skin, for all to see.

It's as if Naoya's humouring you, and it's almost affectionate. If not for the edge in his voice that makes you tighten your thighs around his shoulders, "Don't worry y'dumb, little head about it. Y'know, shit — almost lost a drop there, you know, you're the future Madam of this clan now, right? Anything you want, you'll get."

And he's giving you a look now — head tilted just so, almost tame. Like a promise wrapped in docility. Almost. If you didn't know of him more, if you weren't already simmering with tampered fury from your first meeting, earlier in the day, you may have been fooled. Might have fallen for the gentle downturn of his lashes, like ink pooling on creamy skin. The slow, deliberate way he puffs a small breath against your glossy cunt. Doing you a favour, indeed.

His grin is all teeth, unapologetically smug, as though he knows what you're thinking. Knows that he's destined to clash with you, to draw proverbial blood and blades whenever it amuses him, but he's got you right where he wants you now. Under him, and splayed wide.

Your waiting cunt pooling sweet juices over his wandering fingers — the sharp tip of Naoya's nose twitching before ducking and brushing through your glistening folds. A satisfied chuckle when you arch your spine, desperate for more friction.

"Not that patient, are ya'?" But you don't think you'd be wrong in assuming that Naoya can't hold out much longer, for the crack in his voice betrays him. That melodic, charming, insolent tone giving way to a deeper rasp, like granite grinding against the earth.

You don't know what comes over you, carding a hand through golden, soft locks of hair. Digging into pale green roots, "Think your audience is gettin' bored?"

Naoya almost, so very almost, purrs at your nails digging into his scalp. Pushing himself into your trembling cunt, letting his tongue paint a thin, long stripe right through your throbbing pussy. Reaching up right to your swollen clit, briefly flicking over it.

And now, Naoya is not a sentimental man. Fuck that, he's never been one for gushing, and roses and nauseating sweetness. But this may very well be the first time that he's ever understood what it means to be pussydrunk.

For he's shooting amber eyes up, to where your expression has twisted, almost blissful and idyllic compared to the frown that's been marring your face all day. He'd hate to say it, but he's almost content as the sweet moans that fall from your plush lips, over and over.

"T-that's good, hah, Naoya, 'm — s-so good," You're cracking an eye open to see your flaxen-haired husband snickering, enjoying how damn sensitive your puffy folds are to his ministrations. Only the mild, quiet shuffle of the elders harkens you to their presence, them bearing witness to the consummation.

"Yeahhh," Naoya drawls, angling one bare thigh so it sits over his shoulder, where his robes have slipped right off, "Good, huh?"

"S-surprisingly."

He pinches at your clit in retaliation, just lightly enough that it sends a jolting sensation through your quivering form, but not enough to bring sheer relief, "Watch your whoreish mouth, wife. Could jus' leave ya' here, high and dry." And Naoya's scowling, but despite himself, still pushing his pulsing tongue to the very apex of your core. The glossy, winking entrance where he meets little resistance from your waiting, gummy walls, "Could jus' leave ya' here, and have you rub one out yourself in front of everyone, so you can get off on your own."

You should be ashamed, flushed and embarrassed at how he's speaking to you. There's brief fantasies running through your mind, of strapping your husband down and taping his mouth so he can stop running it so crudely, but you file the thought away for now, arching your hips further into him. Dragging your sloppy, leaking cunt over his face — something he surprisingly welcomes.

Naoya, who's leaning deep enough in between your thighs for the golden strands of hair framing his forehead have been dampened by your arousal, a darker, sandy shade. Pouty lips covered in sweet, tangy sheen, and sticky from munching at your glossy folds.

"Bet they're all watching you," Naoya grins, with little warning as he slides a slender finger into your cunt, immediately curling it in search of some spot, "Bet they're wishing it was them in m'place. Tastin' you like this."

You can't help the involuntary clench of your walls at his words, and Naoya's eyes widen, lashes blown long enough to kiss his eyelids, "Mhm, you like that. But hey," your husband's pumping determined fingers in and out of your cunt, rummaging and massaging at sticky walls, "You're my wife now. Mine to fuck, they can't have what o-only a Zenin can have."

"Can y-you —" You're writhing now, legs spread even wider and you frankly don't care at this point who can see the light reflect your dripping cunt, "A bit f-faster, hah." Let them see, right?

Isn't that why they had you all dolled up, squirming in your seat during the feast so they could watch you fall so undone? And fuck, Naoya would probably slit the throat of another man who dared breathe what he saw this night, if not for your honour, but for his own ego.

"F-faster? Greedy, tch' and you said you w-weren't a pretty, little, slut!" Each word is punctuated with his fingers falling in a curved arc through the air, smacking down over your drooling pussy. Sending sloshes of slick spattering over his finger tips and the edges of his robes, "That's it. Jus' keep your hips like that."

"Heh, hope the lot of ya' are paying attention because she's p-pretty close right about now."

You don't even know who he's speaking to, or where his words are directed because it's an endless rotation for you now. Circling your hips over Naoya's nose, with him greedily lapping at your cunt, with a satisfied look in your eye that just screams of him planning to hold this over your head for at least six months.

You're practically soaking Naoya's smug, beautiful face, smearing translucent mirror-sheen over his chin, and he's pistoning clever, cruel fingers in and out of your tight heat. Messily toying with your throbbing clit, pulling at and under the hood until you're heaving for gasps of sweet air.

"B-bet you'd feel tighter around my cock, y'know that?" Naoya grunts, lips curling to suck around your clit, "Was plannin' to take ya' right here, but think 'm a bit greedy now, hah. Show's gonna be over soon for these cunts, but 's only jus' beginning for us, wouldn't you say, wife?"

You're certain that he must have left bruises at your hips now, right over your groin as he drags you impossibly close to himself, as though he's determined this public display will leave no question as to whether the heir to the Zenin clan can pleasure his wife to the point where you're practically trembling, and abandoning your loathing of the man, temporarily. Just to squirm as tears hang from the edges of your lashes, gleaming from the stimulation, "Wait, w-wait, 'm gonna, I think 'm gonna —"

There's a satisfied noise from Naoya, almost like one of relief, though you know he would be loathe to admit just how affected he is by your climax.

There's a shooting, fleeting sensation in your abdomen. Tremours of pleasure practically streaming and gushing out of you, as you see little else but stars and streaks across your vision, "S-so good, Naoya, fuck. Fuck! I think 'm still cumming, hah, oh my god."

You're hardly even aware of the gushing slick that sprays across Naoya's face and how briefly stunned he looks, and so utterly pleased with himself as you ride out your high. You certainly don't miss at how he almost doubles over, as if there's an equally tightening sensation in his groin as well, pleasurable just from the sight you spread bare for him.

The look on his face cuts sharp — triumphant, smug in a way that speaks of retribution. As though he's just scored the first point in a game that's only just begun.

Before you can so much blink, dazed from your orgasm as heat continues to throb between your thighs, Naoya's arm tightens around your waist. A quick, practiced motion that pulls you flush against him. He's grinning like a man who's already won, a faint and cooling flush now painting his features in some blissful afterglow.

But then, he kisses you. Rough, messy, sloppy even. His lips are hot and unrelenting against yours, a press of teeth and frustration that's more greedier than anything he's done so far. "There, that's it. Tastin' yourself, aren't you?" Naoya's murmuring, nipping at your lower lip.

His arms shift, and he's scooping you up effortlessly. Tilting your world for the second time that day. You're cradled sideways in a bridal hold, against the broad frame of his chest, as his fingers are splayed possessively over your still bare hips. The bastard doesn't even break a sweat.

"Put me down," You scowl at him, but the recent climax is still painting your breathy vocal cords, lacking the heat you had hoped for.

Naoya's golden eyes glitter with amusement, "Nah. We're jus' getting started, don't you think?"

You instinctively grip his robes for balance, and you can feel your husband's chest rumble with laughter, rich and infuriating, "I'm starting to think this whole hate game is a charade, or a ruse. You actually like this."

"I'm starting to think you want a concussion."

Naoya makes a faux-move to drop you, to have you pile to the floor in jittery limbs and crumpled silks, as you desperately cling to him tighter, "Mouthy woman. Can't stand that. Don't like you at all."

The elders, a cluster of now pale-faced men who look like they've just swallowed their own tongues, gape in stunned silence. Their eyes dart between you, rumbled and flushed — thoroughly compromised with the slick that still runs down your thighs. And the heir of the Zenin clan, whose lips are still moist, glistening faintly.

Your husband's tossing them a lazy, half-lidded gaze over his shoulder, "Well," he says, dragging the word slowly, "Like I said, show's over." His voice drips with mock reverence, "We're going."

"Where?" One of the elders, bold or perhaps just stupid, dares to croak, voice thin and trembling like dry parchment.

Naoya stops, just for a breath. His gaze pins the man, golden eyes cold and dangerously amused. "Where do ya' think?" Words like a blade, dripped in honey, "Our quarters, 'course."

He doesn't wait for a response, doesn't even glance back as he pushes past the screen door with you still cradled against his chest. His momentum sends it rattling against the frame, and the hushed, horrified whispers that follow are clearly music to his ears.

You glance up, your pulse a rapid thrum against your throat as you take in the faces of the nobles you had excused themselves earlier, milling outside. They shuffle uncomfortable, some pretending they have somewhere better to be. Others frozen in a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled disdain.

Gojo Satoru is still there too, leaning against a wooden fixture, his jaw tight, as though he's working through something unpleasant. Glowering and grumbling something about leaving Tokyo for this, about the Zenins having no class as usual, and you get the idea that unlike last time, his blindfolded gaze is sweeping anywhere but you.

You bite back a smile.

"But...but the consummation!" The elder follows through the doors, his voice thick with outrage, "How can we be sure — the ceremony, it requires —"

Naoya doesn't even let him finish. You can feel the smirk against your temple, pressing over the shell of your ear, "I did all this," he's splaying your robes aside, "With jus' my mouth. Think I can do even better with my cock. Don't worry," He drawls, "I'll make very sure it's all handled."

"I'm going home," Gojo Satoru loudly announces, to no-one in particular.

[dixons-sunshine]

Study Buddy | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: Your exams were coming up soon. While studying for your history exam, you offered to tutor your boyfriend. However, Daryl accidentally revealed that he's much smarter at school than he gave himself credit for.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 1.3k.

A/n: This sucks. I don't like this at all, but I really wanted to get some actual writing done, so I powered through. I hope you like this nonetheless.

The late afternoon sun was starting its slow descend beyond the hills. The birds' chirps were slowly being replaced by those of crickets, and the owls were making their presence known one by one. There was a lone pigeon resting on the bench outside your trailer home, but the unsuspecting creature was startled by the rumbling of a stopping truck.

Daryl Dixon got out of the truck his brother had unofficially given him, a shopping bag with multiple snacks and a few drinks in his hand. He slammed the driver's side door shut behind him before walking up the small steps into your trailer. Without even really thinking about it, Daryl walked down the familiar narrow hallway that lead to your room.

The sound of your door opening diverted your attention away from the history textbook that rested on your bed. An enormous smile spread across your face at the sight of your handsome boyfriend. You got up from the bed and walked over to him, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a soft, tender kiss.

Daryl, shy as ever, could feel his face heat up at your actions, but he didn't resist. His hand that wasn't holding the bag rested on the small of your back, his fingers lightly gripping at your sweater. When you pulled back, he gave you a lopsided smile, his eyes holding a softness that he reserved only for you.

You smiled at him, your fingers playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. “Hey, handsome,” you greeted him in a whisper. “Took you long enough.”

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “Sorry, sunshine. Got caught up at the store,” he explained, pulling back from your hold slightly to reach into the bag and take out a soda for you. “Got yer favourite for ya.”

You gently took the drink from his hands, sending him a look of appreciation. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Daryl ducked his head in embarrassment, his cheeks taking on the colour of the red rose bush outside your window. “Ya might've mentioned it once or twice.”

“Well,” you began, popping the lid of the can open. “Then I definitely don't tell you that enough. I love you, Dar.”

“Love ya too, peach.” Daryl smiled a small smile, before moving to plop down on your bed. He picked up the textbook that rested on your bed and started flipping through it, his eyes skimming over the pages. “Ya already started studyin'?”

You sat down next to him, placing the can of soda on your nightstand. “Only to make flashcards.” To prove your point, you picked up the aforementioned flashcards from your nightstand. “I was just skimming through for good measure. Just wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything important.” You made yourself more comfortable on the bed, adjusting the flashcards. “You ready to get some studying done?”

Daryl nodded. “How's this gon' work?” he asked.

“Well, I wanna see how much you know, so I'm gonna start asking random questions to see what we need to pay special attention to.”

“Alrigh',” Daryl shrugged nonchalantly. “Do yer worst.”

You smirked playfully. “I'll try my best.” You shuffled the cards, selecting a random one. “Okay, let's start easy. When did the Second World War start?”

“September 1st, 1939. Tha's when it was generally considered to have started. S'when the Nazi's invaded Poland,” Daryl replied with zero hesitation, absentmindedly twirling one of the loose threads on your blanket. “The UK and France officially declared war on the third, two days after the invasion.”

You looked at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows, impressed by the way he answered the question so easily and proceeded to answer two separate questions without being asked to do so. You knew Daryl was smart, there was no doubt about that, but you were still a bit surprised. Daryl made it no secret to you that he wasn't the best student, so his perfect answer to the question was a nice surprise.

“Correct,” you told him with a smile. “Next question: How many alliances were there in the Second World War, and what were they called?”

Daryl pondered over the question for a moment. “Two. The Allies and the Axis Powers, right?”

You flipped the flashcard over and read the answer, humming in approval. “Correct again. You're on a roll, Dar.”

Daryl shook his head, shrugging nonchalantly. “Ya ain't askin' any hard questions. Everybody knows the answers to those.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully, shuffling through the flashcards again to find a different question. “Okay, then, smart guy. How about this one: Which cities did the United States detonate atomic bombs over?”

“Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Two cities in Japan. The bombs were dropped on August 6th and August 9th. The US wanted to force the Japanese to surrender.”

“Okay, time out,” you started, carelessly tossing the flashcards to the side. “Please tell me again how you're not smart? Because those were perfect answers and you haven't even read through the textbook yet.”

Daryl shrugged again, averting his eyes to the bed. “Ain't smart. Jus' heard the teacher talkin' 'bout it in class. Ain't tha' hard to remember it. 'Sides, history is interestin'. S'the only class I dun' mind attendin'.”

You laughed in disbelief, looking at your boyfriend in wonder. “You manage to find a way to surprise me every day. I thought I knew everything about you, and now I learn something new. You're a history nerd.”

Daryl scoffed incredulously. “Ain't no damn nerd. Jus' 'cause I know some history doesn't mean m'a nerd.”

“Sure,” you started, sending him a playful smile. “So I know a lot about science and I get called a nerd by you, but you know a lot about history and I can't call you a nerd?”

“Damn straight,” Daryl replied, his tone playful. “Yer a nerd. Tha's one of the many reasons why I fell fer ya.”

“I love you, too, Mr I-know-that-Hitler-was-born-on-the-30th-of-April.”

“He was born on the 20th. He shot himself on the 30th, ten days after his birthday.” You smirked, and Daryl instantly knew that he had fallen into your trap. “Oh, fuck ya fer tha'.”

“My point has been proven,” you said with a victorious smile, leaning forward to let your lips hover over Daryl's. “No need to be ashamed of being a nerd. I find it extremely hot.”

Daryl hummed, his lips grazing against yours. “Ya find it hot tha' I know 'bout the world war? Then yer gon' find it really hot when we get to the Cold War.”

“Colour me intrigued,” you whispered, before closing the gap between the two of you.

Daryl's lips moved against yours hungrily. Soon, he gently guided you to lay on your back, hovering over you as his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck. You giggled, leaning your head back to allow him more access.

“You might be really smart in history, Dar, but I'm not. I need to study,” you told him.

Daryl hummed, but his kisses didn't cease. “Ya'll be fine,” he mumbled against your skin. “'Sides, we got a human anatomy exam comin' up soon. I suck at tha'. I need to get some studyin' done fer tha'.”

You laughed lightly, yielding to the desire. Well, studying would just have to wait. You had other, much more fun activities planned for the time being.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[somereaderinblue]

LMK God Games

Did somebody say LMK x Epic the Musical??? I had to post this after seeing these amazing YT animatics which I highly rec. Anyways, enjoy some LMK Nezha content!

[NEZHA]

Father, general, rarely do I ask for favors

Now I humbly, beseech you to spare some mercy

For a dear friend who’s a prisoner far from home

Sun Wukong.

[LI JING]

Divine intervention, is that what you seek?

To untie apprehensions that were placed on that beast?

You may upset the balance for an ape full of shame

But if he's worth the risk of such loud dissent

Let us make it a test.

Convince each of them that he deserves to be released, and I'll release him.

[NEZHA]

Who's them?

[LI JING]

Nüwa! Lao Tzu!

Guanyin! Ao Guang!

Chang���e! Or Me.

What do you say?

[NÜWA]

Great.

[LAO TZU]

Very well.

[GUANYIN]

Agreed.

[AO GUANG]

Hmph.

[CHANG’E]

Groovy!

[NEZHA]

Bring it.

[NÜWA]

You know well I'm a fan of nature’s all

So with so many creatures gone

Has Wukong no heart at all?

[NEZHA]

Their intentions meant him harm

He had companions under his charge

It was a hard choice to make

To live another day and prevail despite the stakes!

[NÜWA]

Fair point, release him.

[LAO TZU]

Trust is not real without care

Why should we offer him a hand?

He turned his back on all his friends.

[NEZHA]

Did you forget they failed to listen?

He was betrayed and then imprisoned

But if you make the right decision 

He can still build a future with those he misses.

[LAO TZU]

Fine, release him.

[GUANYIN]

Though he is strong and mighty, your friend Wukong

Has a callous heart, disregards others for himself.

[NEZHA]

He was busy fighting-

[GUANYIN]

More like busy spiting the deities

It is only fair he faces comeuppance for his crimes.

[NEZHA]

Wait! Please reconsider this….

[AO GUANG]

Really Nezha? These old tricks?

[NEZHA]

Ao Guang!

[AO GUANG]

What kind of so-called warrior just uses his power

Uncaring of those in the crossfire?

He didn’t even spare his brothers

Turned to fodder to sate her

Traded all their lives to demons of bone

Untrustworthy, obtuse, upfront

Pathetic and weak like his son!

[NEZHA]

Hold your tongue now! His son's my friend!

And when were second chances something we can’t spare?

You want redemption? Then set him free

To get back to his homestead for atonement, you’ll all see!

[GUANYIN & AO GUANG]

Very well, release him.

[CHANG’E]

Hey bestie~

So many legends, so many tales

Give me one good reason why yours should prevail!

[NEZHA]

He's got some nice golden vision!

[CHANG’E]

Try harder.

[NEZHA]

He wields a mighty staff!

[CHANG’E]

You can do better than that!

[NEZHA]

He's kind of funny?

[CHANG’E]

Eh…

[NEZHA]

Never once does he stop loving his mate.

[CHANG’E]

Release him!

[NEZHA]

I’ve done your test and passed! Release him.

[LI JING]

You dare to defy me? To not know your place?

No one beats me, no one brings heaven shame!

Power, madness, balance, justice

I must show you right from wrong

To cease this tantrum once and for all!

.

.

.

[GUANYIN]

Is he dead?

.

.

.

.

An entire lifetime unfolds between Nezha’s heartbeats.

Sun Wukong’s life.

As a troublemaker, a warrior, a king……

Then a husband, a father.

How lovely the day had been, the memory as sweet as the peaches and plums they had gorged on.

And then-

“YOU’RE ALONE!”

The words erode him from within like rot through fruit. He’s not alone, he has powers mortals could only dream of having a speck of, he has his father, brothers and duties-

He has Wukong’s friendship. Or well, he had it. 

Nezha blinks and suddenly he sees Xiaotian, MK, Wukong and Macaque’s son, their legacy, the star to their sun and moon, Nezha’s-

“-friend, I couldn’t ask for more!”

Wukong was wrong.

He knows what he’s fighting for now.

.

.

.

.

Through the blinding glow of Li Jing’s attack, a flurry of pink lotus petals explodes in retaliation.

Gritting his teeth, Nezha’s arms trembled under his shield. He takes one step forward, then another, and another-

His shield shatters, he takes two steps back. He barely raises his spear in time to block his father’s next blow. The shaft of his weapon is molten lava in his palms. 

He loses his spear first. Then most of his armor, then his wheels, ah he hasn’t walked in a while, with how shaky his legs are he’s surprised he’s still upright-

Then he’s not. His father’s wrath rumbles in warning. What was one more act of defiance?

And so Nezha, Third Lotus Prince, crawls up those final steps and uses the last of his strength to grab the Pagoda-Wielding General’s fluttering cape.

.

.

.

.

[NEZHA]

Let him go….please

Let him go…..

[autism-autobot]

Flower of a Poisonous Seed Part 21

Part 20:

The only thing written on the whiteboard in the Demon Bull King's study was the word "flowers" in Nezha's handwriting.

The Demon Bull Family, Nezha, and Li Jing were trying to come up with what they'd do for Wukong's 7,000th birthday.

It wasn't as easy as they'd hoped.

For one thing, Wukong still hadn't fully recovered from surgery, and it was unclear as to whether or not he would recover in time for his birthday activities. Another thing to consider was that Wukong would still be sick even if he did manage to recover from the surgery in time.

And even then, they still weren't sure what Wukong would like to do for his birthday.

RS: Why can't we just ask him?

PIF: Because we're his family, and we ought to do something nice for him. He's been such a joy in each of our lives, and we ought to show him we care.

RS: But doesn't Uncle already know how much we care about him?

Nezha: This is Wukong we're talking about.

RS: Fair point. But what even are we going to do? "Flowers" isn't much to go off of.

Jing: Why can't we just throw a gala in his name and call it a day?

Nezha: Because, Father, Wukong gets far too anxious in crowds for us to even consider throwing any sort of party for him.

PIF: Poor baby, he got so nervous when my husband and I took him out to eat a few months back.

DBK: My brother wouldn't let go of my fur the whole time we were there. He could barely even speak up enough to order himself a salad, he was so nervous.

Nezha: Public outings are off the table, so is there anything else any of you can think of. I can only think of things we can do around the house, and Demon Bull King can't even fit inside my place. Wukong specifically requested that he be involved.

RS: My only ideas involve cake.

Jing: What kind of cake?

RS: Flower themed cake, obviously.

DBK: What kind of flowers?

RS: Um... the... regular kind?

PIF: We're going to have to do better than that for Wukong.

Nezha: Agreed. In the meantime, we can consider the flavor of the cake. What would be the point of the cake if not to eat it?

DBK: Yes, but what flavor?

Jing: Peach, of course.

Everyone else: NO!

Jing: Why not? He loves peaches!

Nezha: That was before his illness caused him to vomit whenever he consumed one. Citric acid doesn't sit well with him.

Jing: Oh. That's unfortunate.

RS: I once offered him a peach without knowing, and my poor uncle cried so hard.

Jing: Okay, so nothing peach related. Is there any fruit he can consume that he does like?

Nezha: Coconuts, apples, watermelon, raspberries, blueberries, any type of berry really...

RS: Did you memorize all his favorite foods?

Nezha: *smiles and shrugs* I love him very much, is all.

Jing: *raises eyebrow*

Nezha: Ugh, we're still just friends, Father. You can love someone platonically, you know.

RS: Raspberry cake sounds lovely!

DBK: And coconut shavings would make a good topping.

PIF: What about the frosting? What flavor should that be?

Nezha: Chocolate, maybe?

DBK: We may have to come back to that one.

~~~

Wukong wakes up in his recovery room to a certain dark-furred monkey sleeping with his head against his chest.

"I thought you were supposed to be monitoring me, silly."

Macaque had visited Wukong in the hospital soon after hearing about the surgery. Wukong never expected Macaque to be so worried about him.

It was during that time that they managed to catch up and come to be on better terms with each other.

Wukong being hospitalized gave them the opportunity to sit down and talk about subjects long overdue. Sorries, praises, and "I missed you"s were said by both monkeys.

They even talked about where to go from there.

"Caque, I don't want us to be an us again. I don't want to be an us with anyone for that matter. I'm done with that. I don't want to give myself away to anyone who isn't him. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I get it. I... I just wish I appreciated you when I had you... and hadn't rejected you way back when. Maybe this *gestures to Wukong's bandages* wouldn't be happening if I didn't."

"Maybe it's a good thing you did."

~~~

PIF: MACAQUE!!!!!!!!!

Mac: *jolts awake* AAAAAAAAH!!!!! What??? What is it???!!!!

PIF: YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE MONITORING WUKONG!!!!!!!!!!

Mac: AAAAAAAAH!!!! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep!!!!

PIF: *raises fan to hit him*

Mac: *shadow teleports away*

Part 22:

Masterpost

@istopaskingmemate @swkbiggestdefender @starrclown @ainnur @weaverpop

[12-seconds-to-live]

Laniel.jpg and Charlotte

Pairing: DR3 x LN4 x F1 female driver

Warnings: none, just my happiness with Daniel and Lando

NICE AIRPORT - TERMINAL 1 @15:20

"You look cute today" I stop looking to my phone to look at Lando. Well, that's new

"You say it like it's weird of me using a dress"

"It is" He smiled

"I'm gonna ignore you from now on"

"It's not common, even when we go to parties you use jeans, so, I have a point"

"The real point here is that we are in the middle of the summer and if I put a raw egg on the floor it will cook"

"But what about the jet? It's going to be cold in there"

"I have my enchanté sweater" Lando made a loud gasp "It has cute peaches and it's purple"

"I sent you a full box of my merch last month, mean"

"Cry about it, Daniel thinks that I have a pretty face so everybody is going to see me in the new enchanté collection"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I asked him months ago, even I helped with the design of one of the pieces"

"Well, congratulations. You should look who's coming" I turn my head and a very smiley Daniel Ricciardo was walking to our direction

"You knew?"

"I invited him to flight with us, I know how important you were for him these moths away from racing so I..." I interrupted him with a hug and a kiss in the cheek

"You're the best, Norris" Lando didn't expect that reaction, now he can feel his cheeks burning

I got up and run to Daniel. After Silverstone, I decided to wait for Danny's test with Pirelli. After he finished a call from Helmut Marko was all we need to know that he got the seat for the rest of the season. Even if I have a good relationship with the australian, I organized a few days off with Lando, Max, Nyck, some frineds and myself to let Nyck know that we're his friends and friends support each other.

"It's been only a week, you know?" He said laughing

"I don't care, I'm happy. These past 7 months had been like going on a rollercoaster over and over again so, you know. Even if it's AlphaTauri, you have your way back home, you never left, you just have to travel the world over in search of what you need and then return to find it"

"I know Char and thank you for everything" His eyes got glossy so I hug him "Do you like my design?" He said ponting to his sweater

"No, it is..." I gasp

"Yes, kiddo. Tommorrow a million boys are going to see you wearing the new collection"

"Ha ha, funny, you know that I have my eyes on someone"

"Someone a bit brainless. Hey Lando, I guess you were waiting for me"

"Yeah, let's go"

Once in the airplane

"I have to say that this is a very important moment and pretty faces like yours should be able to broke the internet" I said taking Lando's camera and pinting to them "New wallpapers for your fans"

They looked at each other and start with their goofiness and well... I guess they really missed each other. Maybe Carlos and I have competition.

"We are pretty good looking guys, you know?" Daniel said with a smile on his face

"Even you could use us as your wallpaper" said Lando

"Good offer but nothing can beat my photo with Tom Holland" I said with a side smile and ready to take a nap before we arrive in Budapest

"When are you gonna tell her how you feel?" asked Daniel looking at Lando

"I don't know what are you talking about" he answer looking at the mirror

"Kids, always scared of love"

DRIVE TO SURVIVE EP.4 S.6 NICE GUYS ALWAYS COME BACK

"Hello Charlotte"

"Hi Netflix, can I have some tea? I been walking around doing interviews and stuff and I couldn't finish my lunch"

"Sure, mint?"

"Yes, please" I smile to the interviewer "We can't start, I'll wait for the tea"

"Ok, what were you doing when the news drop?"

"Oh, ha ha, I was with the main character. I can do anything, even work as emotional supporter, PR, car mechanic, you know" one member of the staff approached me with the cup of tea "Thank you"

"How do you feel about this?"

I made a pause thinking and trying not to burn my lips "I think that this a great moment to tell you what happen after Abu Dabi. Well, I sign my contract with McLaren, I was feeling bad about the decision, just for Danny and I spent the night with him and his girlfriend just talking and at some point we got more serious and I just told him and without knowing about Red Bull: What is a home if not the first place you learn yo run from?"

I smiled to the camera "Then he told me about the third driver offer and I felt different, by the time he leave in 2018 I guess that he felt that he was destroying everything and he just needed to slip quietly to the back door without causing to much noise and then not stop running. And maybe that was he needed more than what he really wanted, let go the feeling of wanted to go back and remember what you once had and what you once where "

"But then I told him that it's funny that the feeling of leave home and being far away make us wander our choices but for Danny is something else. He's back home and ready to no longer remember which tale of his past is true and which is an invention. Outside he's the same on the inside he's the same kid that leave Australia looking for a dream"

"I guess he's your favourite person between the drivers" asked the producer

"No, Daniel is my brother and I know he feels the same about me"

📍Budapest

Liked by charlotterjones, daniel3.jpg and 943.501 others

landonorris We’re photographers. We’re back.

📸: @charlotterjones

user1 ARE YOU KIDDING ME. STOP THIS CUTENESS

f1mia need a landan.jpg account plz

charlotterjones This is a piece of art ❤️

landonorris including the photographer danielricciardo our favourite girl

user2 "dude we’re getting the band back together״

user3 we missed daniel button --->

I got inspired! This little story is linked with my current story called (Un)Lost

Hope you like it!

Taglist: @evans-dejong @omgsuperstarg @bibissparkles @hoely-maria @mochimommy2002 @noope306 @eugene-emt-roe @80sloverry @rens-daylight @summerslike11 @matildrry

[wangxianficrecs]

Rewind 2023 - Follower Recs

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2023

For our Rewind 2023, our dear followers were also able to submit Follower Recs of their favourite stories published in 2023 for you to enjoy! Thank you to everyone who shared their recs and make sure to give the authors some love!

~*~

Lovely fic, the worldbuilding really got me hook, it is background but absolutely fascinating. -Anon

The Lines of your Soul

by athena_crikey

M, 24k, Wangxian & Nielan

Summary: At this point he just wants to get Lan Zhan horizontal so he can sleep off the drugs that are making him make little confused snuffling noises and ask questions like “How soft is purple?” and “Where did the moon go?” and “Why does Wei Ying smile all the time?” Lan Zhan under the influence is cute, and it makes Wei Wuxian genuinely angry because he cannot appreciate it. This is not something Lan Zhan chose, this is not even an accident, this is an intentional violation and none of the sounds or questions or wide-eyed glances Lan Zhan is giving him are his choice.

~*~

Not an easy read, there is a lot of hurt there, but how lwj and wwx behaved in such an awful situation really got to me. -Anon

swallowing rocks, swallowing peach skins

by AvoOwO

M, 24k, Wangxian

Summary: There is an indescribable rage boiling within Lan Wangji's chest. Lan Wangji has often heard stories of unsuspecting travelers being taken from their camp within the night, held against their wills only to be somehow found weeks later, dead and in the most horrid of states. Stories are hard enough to read about. It is worse, he thinks, when it is Wei Ying he is here with, gagged and bound in the same way. They walk, and walk, and walk, and they do not stop.

~*~

Lwj and wwx are just. such disasters. and I loved their jobs, especially lwj. it was a very enjoyable read. -Anon

To See You (Again)

by FrameofMind (@frameofmind6), Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle)

E, 84k, Wangxian

Part of Bottomji Big Bang 2023

Summary: A new job brings Wei Ying to London, and back into Lan Zhan's life. Many things have changed since their time in boarding school (Lan Zhan is out of the closet, arranges charcuterie boards, stocks a fine bar…), but their friendship slots right back into place like no time has passed. Wei Ying is a little perplexed by the fact that Lan Zhan apparently doesn't have any interest in dating anyone despite being an obvious catch—but hey, at least that means he doesn't have to fight anyone for Lan Zhan's time and attention. And besides, it's not like Wei Ying is in any big rush to find himself a girlfriend either. It’s all working out great!

~*~

This story is a ton of fun and such a different and interesting concept. @danegen

Pairfire

by PaidSubscription

E, 65k, Wangxian

Part of Bottomji Big Bang 2023

Summary: Welcome, young cultivators, to the most important event of your lives: your Coming of Age Symposium. At dawn tomorrow, you will be assigned to your pairmate. You will then complete the following courses together. Week 1: Love Languages (core course) Week 2: Conflict Resolution (core course) Week 3: Guided Gender Selection (core course, ongoing) Week 4: Caring for Your Pairmate in Distress (elective) Week 5: Heat Week (elective) On your final day you will choose which permanent A/B/O gender is right for you. We will provide guidance as you try each of them in the coming weeks. Good luck. OR: WangXian are unexpectedly paired for a relationship course. Shenanigans, pining, gender feels and horniness ensues. With art by Beanie.

~*~

This series was so much fun, especially watching Lan Wangji's lust for Wei Wuxian from Su She's POV. And I'm grateful the author included a second part so we can see all the bits we missed and how wangxian got together. Also lwj's competency kink for wwx's brilliance was gold. @gentil-minou

💙 The epic college romance between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan

by KizuKatana (@kizukatana)

E, WIP, Series, 57k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary part one: The (bitter) third party pov of the epic college romance between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, as told from the pettiest NPC to ever exist. - - - - - A new student transferred into the university in their second year, and Su She was gleeful to see how much Lan Zhan was irritated by him from the very first day that the student (Wei something) showed up late for class with a ratty hoodie pulled up over his head and proceeded to sleep through lecture. Finally, someone else would be the butt of everyone’s jokes as they watched Wei Ying constantly try and fail to get Lan Zhan’s attention. When midterm grades came out, Su She was expecting the guy to be humiliated. That was… not what happened. Worse still, Lan Zhan was now actually turning his head to look at the guy when he spoke. And... wait, was Lan Zhan… putting his hand on the guy’s ass?! No. Su She does not accept this.

~*~

I love historical aus and Greaser!WWX with GoldenBoy!LWJ is one we know well, butI love this fic for all the heart it has and the way it covers setting-typical homophobia. Wangxian get a happy ending and then the epilogue at the end really just made me feel all kinds of feelings about being queer. @gentil-minou

Mad about the Boy

by TriviasFolly (@triviasfolly)

M, 62k, Wangxian

Summary: It's 1954, and Lan Zhan's life would be going well if it wasn't for the charming Wei Ying. Did he say charming? He meant annyoing. If it wasn't for that smile Lan Zhan could accept the future planned for him, the job as Cheif Surgeon who returned home to a demure wife who'd cook him dinner and asking him about his day. Instead, he finds himself dreaming about something more. So when Wei Ying offers him a deal, one that would get him out of Lan Zhan's life he took it. When the evening goes wrong, Lan Zhan expects his life to be over. Instead, he finds it's just the start of a new chapter.

~*~

The way this author made the story of the Scarlet Pumpenel fit in mdzs is, in my opinion, masterful. The arranged marriage is built on devastating misunderstanding after devastating misunderstanding, but the identity shenanigans are so fun! Other highlights include Jiang sect love and wangxian adopting not only A-Yuan but MXY as well. So much fun and an epic adventure! @gentil-minou

The Scarlet Lotus

by rainbowninja167 (@rainbowtitania)

M, 137k, Wangxian

Summary: In the years following the Sunshot Campaign, the mysterious, masked cultivator who’d defeated Wen Ruohan took on many identities: the Yiling Patriarch, leader of the Wen rebels, enemy of the Jin Sect, practitioner of wicked tricks. His true name was shrouded in mystery. He always wore a mask. He carried no sword; wore no clan colors or insignia. Clouds of resentful energy clung to him as he walked. But there was one thing that absolutely everyone agreed on: the Yiling Patriarch could not possibly be from the Jiang Sect. Or: a Scarlet Pimpernel-inspired fix-it featuring Wei Wuxian in disguise, Lan Wangji determined to bring the nefarious Yiling Patriarch to justice, and the hijinks that ensue when you accidentally marry your greatest enemy/love of your life.

~*~

Another fun and sexy fic built on misunderstandings but I love the tone of this one! There's a lot of heart in this fic along with some real world issues along with just lots of wwx love, which makes this fic something i reread again and again! @gentil-minou

With No Particular Affection

by Chrononautical (@chrononautintraining)

E, 92k, Wangxian

Summary: A prominent physicist and professor, Wei Ying has built a life for himself in Chicago. He's safe, he's happy, and he has plans for his future. Unfortunately, those plans are derailed the moment he finds out his brother is in trouble. To save the family business, it will have to be Wei Ying's life on the line. He has to marry his old high school crush, Lan Zhan.

~*~

wangxian exploring their sexuality while getting to act their age in cloud recesses is such a wonderful premise, and I love the way this fic lets them not being good at it. Also the little excerpts from the book throughout were such fun and always made me giggle! @gentil-minou

Fentao-laoshi's Guide to Cut-Sleeve Pleasures

by occultings (microcomets) (@microcomets)

E, 31k, Wangxian

Part of the good place server exchange 2023

Summary: Lan Wangji says, “I am also looking to . . . gain practical experience. It seemed mutually advantageous.” “Mutually advantageous,” Wei Wuxian echoes. “Wait. Do you mean I’d get to . . . ?” Lan Wangji stares at him. “Practice — on you?” Wei Wuxian finishes, his eyes round with disbelief. — During a shared summer studying in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian diligently pursue an informed sexual education. What could possibly be the harm in some mutual learning?

~*~

the most heartbreaking, angsty, canon setting arranged marriage au i've read so far, in the best way. We get to see things from LWJ's pov and while his actions make sense, it's still so devastating as we watch WWX be affected by it all. The happy ending makes the hurt all the better too! @gentil-minou

💙 Concord

by Deastar (@youhideastar)

T, 41k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji hopes, somewhat frivolously, that his betrothed might find him an acceptable companion. Neither he nor Wei Wuxian are able to bear children, so there will be no need to share a marital bed; that should make it easier for the two of them to reach a natural, comfortable equilibrium. Two strings played in harmony: this is Lan Wangji’s quiet hope, as he arranges the Jingshi to accommodate a second inhabitant. Perhaps, he thinks, they might even become friends.

~*~

MothXian and WitchJi!!!!! The art for this au is always so lovely, and this fic fits it perfectly! The author has this gorgeous, dreamy prose that really enhances the setting and the sweetness of wangxian in this is so beautiful. @gentil-minou

light a lantern (and guide me home)

by xuanxuanwo (ostentatiouslyrealistic) (@xuanxuanwo)

T, 63k, Wangxian

Summary: At first, he thinks he’s caught a bird; it’s the size of one of his palms and wrapped fully in damp feathers. As he shuffles toward the beam of light that streams through the open window, he wonders how it managed to fly into his lantern, shut the door, and latch it against the wild gales of the wind. Then, he takes a closer look, thumbing across its feathers, and realizes that they’re not feathers at all. They’re leaves. Startled, Lan Zhan shifts as gently as possible and, using the tip of his finger, parts them to reveal a body, complete with tiny limbs and a small face, all of it wrapped in the dress made from peony petals. “Oh,” Lan Zhan breathes softly, heart clenching. “Oh, what are you?” -- A thunderstorm brings tea master and herbalist Lan Zhan a companion he never knew he needed. A tale of love, loss, and letting go.

~*~

Rockstar!WWX and Bookseller!LWJ and they are just the cutest. Notting Hill is a classic romcom and this fic fits the romcom vibe perfectly. @gentil-minou

When the Lights Come Up

by brooklinegirl

E, 50k, Wangxian

Summary: Lan Zhan's brother draws to a halt next to him, staring at the man on the other side of the counter. "Oh, it is you, isn't it?" The man, still propped against the counter on his elbow, gives Lan Huan a grin, then directs it at Lan Zhan again. "I don't know," he says. "Is it? Am I?" "You are." Lan Huan is hurrying around to the other side of the counter, a wide smile on his face, while Lan Zhan looks on, feeling more and more perplexed, like he's stepped into some alternate universe where absolutely nobody is making any sense at all. "Wei Wuxian! Lan Zhan, do you know who this is? It's Wei Wuxian!" Lan Huan is reaching for the man's hand, and he pushes himself lazily to standing, shaking Lan Huan's hand warmly. "In the flesh," he says. "You caught me." "My goodness." Lan Huan is staring at him like he's never seen a human being before in his life. "What on earth are you doing here, of all places?

~*~

magical wangxian who adopt mo xuanyu in a setting that's written so vividly, the whole place comes alive! it's part of a larger series but it can be read alone, but most importantly the characters are so patient and kind with such great moments between them all @gentil-minou

quiet, blooming hours

by Sanguis (@bel-ennui)

T, 13k, Wangxian

Summary: Fingers push through the earth, and a long lost boy takes the first gasping breath of his second life. The house of buried things has a new surprise for Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[qsycomplainsalot]

So I watched Furiosa

Furiosa Road: a Star Wars Story. It wasn't likely to live up to Fury Road, and it didn't. It would have been a tall order. While it was well worth paying to see in theaters, I was still a little disappointed; I'm going to explain why, without spoilers, and then after a very visible cut I'll comment on a few specific things in the movie.

First of all it felt long, but not two hours long so I guess it speaks to its quality. Going through the cast, everyone did a good job, although I wasn't blown away by the on screen chemistry of Anya Taylor-Joy and Tom Burke. More on that later. Chris Hemsworth as the overarching antagonist is this movie's standout performance, in a way that I'm somewhat conflicted about. More on that later too.

Overall it feels as if, after making Fury Road a trim and thrilling movie, the creatives behind it strung together all the piles of amazing ideas they had left on the cutting room floor into another complete movie, but not a very cohesive story with a beginning middle and end with enough connective tissue to captivate an audience. There's no shortage of props, costumes, characters, stunts and just straight up visuals, although the music is not up to the standards set by Fury Road. What's really missing is a tight knit script.

I'd say watch it if you like the franchise, otherwise I'd just wait for it to release on small screens.

My biggest complaint with this movie is that it's split between two relationships, between Hemsworth as Dementus or Tom Burke as Jack with Furiosa, when really with how it's paced it could barely afford one. I am just completely confused by people saying Jack and Furiosa's relationship was the highlight of the movie, it was vague, bland, and Jack died before I could really care about him. All this relationship did was explain how Furiosa became so good at driving a war rig, despite the fact that by this point in the movie she'd fended for herself just fine, presumably using what she'd been taught by the vuvuzela tribe. Likewise Dementus as a character is extremely simple, in a good way, and is the a better representation of time passing in the movie than literal text onscreen telling you it's been fifteen years or some such. It's on the nose, but Chris Hemsworth is acting his heart out and it's always a joy to see him on screen. He's spiraling his way through the movie in a perfect exemple of what Furiosa must avoid becoming. So knowing that, the main plot should be about Furiosa having to lose her way home (the star map tattoo on her arm, which we know she lose by Fury Road) and choose to stay at the Citadel to kill him, setting up a bitter ending where she's gained nothing and is stuck killing more people instead of letting go of revenge and going home. Unfortunately Furiosa: the video game: the movie very much lives in the shadow of its 2015 sequel, and so the plot is split further to set that up. I've talked about how it hurts the pacing and how much screentime the other characters could have gotten, but I think it actually greatly diminished the ending. The end of Furiosa has her catch up to Dementus, bind him and beat him up, asking him to give her her childhood and mother back, only for Dementus to refuse to play along in anyway. He tells her that revenge achieves nothing, that he knows from personal experience and that she can kill him however she wants, that he doesn't particularly care. I don't do it justice it's a pretty good end to his arc this movie. Instead of Furiosa killing him there and then and validating that speech for a cohesive theme to the movie (keeping the hope stuff for Fury Road where it works), the history man voiceover tells us that although the true end of Dementus is disputed, Furiosa told him the truth, that she kept him alive with a peach tree growing out of his dick ?? And then she brings the peach to Immortan's wives in the Citadel, and then the credits are interspersed with shots from Fury Road. I can excuse the impossibility of keeping someone alive while a tree is growing on them for the sake of Mad Max movies very much being wasteland fairy tales, but I think directly linking Furiosa: Road One with Fury Road like that is both pointless and very hamfisted, on top of being a big disappointment when it comes to Dementus' character. Like the guy was clearly fucked up from losing his daughters just kill him and be done with it. Anyway yeah I don't think I'll rewatch this movie nearly as often as I rewatch Fury Road. Shoutout to the Octoboss though, he's the Most Valuable Sidecharacter of this movie.

[kayeonandherbunny]

ozzie and fizz adopt a abused human child. and daddy fizz is super star of the hell.

chapter 2

This place is very different from where I used to live. But there are also similarities. For example, the behavior of children. They always stare at me. And they talk about me among themselves, as if I don't understand.

But it's a lot different here from where I used to live. To be honest, I want to stare at demon kids too. So when they look at me, I look at them too. It's rude to stare at people, but they started first, so maybe it's okay. I like their faces has feathers, fur, scales.

Fizz doesn't seem to care about anyone's eyes.

it's always get the look people when with Fizz in outside. I think the rule "It's rude to stare at people" is only exception for Fizz. Everyone looks at him, secretly takes pictures and screams. Everyone on the streets.

Fizz doesn't care about people at all. It's like walking by a street trees. And when people talk to him, he answer them very calmly.

"I'm a big fan of you, fizz! I'm looking forward to this year's clown contest!"

"Haha, thank you! Please come and see our rehearsal soon!"

"is it true that you are in a relationship with the King of lust?"

"king of ozz is a hypocrite. and you too, fizz."

he doesn't answer every question, because we can't here all night long. Fizz just keep walking. Wear the pretty clothes Ozzy picked him out, hold my left hand with his right hand, he raise his head proudly.

"so, lust king buy you that weird-looking pet? How much does that animal's cost?"

Then he stopped and flicked his finger.

The guy who told us that was smiling singly. Until he was taken away by two Hellhound. Fizz doesn't like to have his bodyguards around. He always tells Ozzy he can go out on his own. But he never said that when he was out with me.

"Are you okay?"

Fizz asked me that and looked into my face. He's been smiling and keeping his head straight up since we went out, and now he looks sad for the first time. fizz been through pain more than pointing the finger from people, and he always acted like it wasn't a big deal.

I nodded.

I'm totally fine, because that guy face was really funny. He was taken away so quickly that I didn't see much of his face. But when Fizz asked me need to hug, I didn't miss the opportunity and gladly gave him one. It's always nice to have someone give a hug. Even more so to your loved ones.

"Don't believe that guy said. he purposely made up a mean word to get our attention."

I've heard many times that I have to be careful because there are a lot of bad people living here. I can't go out alone, I can't follow strangers, I can't listen to what they're saying. both Fizz and Ozzy always talk about that, but I already know all these facts. because It was the same in my old place.

"You are my beautiful precious baby. you know that, right?"

only one diffrent thing.

when I lived my old place, There was never anyone there to be on my side.

I nodded again. Fizz seemed concerned about me, but I was really fine, and I felt really good, to be honest with you. I didn't care about people's eyes anymore. I was hugging Fizz by his neck and listening to sound of bell from his hat.

[darkspellmaster]

Wish is just a normal Disney film just like all the rest.

Wish is actually a damn good movie, there I said it!

I'm going to start by saying this much, it's very odd to me that so many people are now screaming for a love story from Disney, when not even five or ten years ago there was shouting from the roof tops about Disney doing TOO MUCH romance. For the longest time it was "I wish Disney wouldn't do pairings" "Ugh another romance, can't the princess not." Etc. Now everyone wants one, even though Romance isn't really as big a Disney trope as people think.

Actually let's go through the animated catalogue and see how frequently the love story is centered as the main conflict and asperation to the character. In this case it's the key thing, not a 'Oh they happen to like each other in the end' situation, it's THE thing, the point of the movie is their romance. Then let's see how many have it as the secondary aspect, and let's see how many have it as not important at all. (And we're talking romantic love, not family love)

Romance (Total number: 15)

Snow White, Lady and the Tramp, The Aristocats, The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Pocahontas, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Secondary Characters hook up so this is a weird one), Doug's First Movie, Tarzan, Lizzie McGuire the Movie, Enchanted, The Princess and the Frog (Only from Naveen's POV), Tangled (could be seen as secondary too)

Secondary (Total Number: 25)

Fantasia, Bambi, Make Mine Music, Fun and Fancy Free , Melody Time, The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad, Cinderella Sleeping Beauty

One Hundred and One Dalmatians , Robin Hood, The Rescuers , The Fox and the Hound , Who Framed Roger Rabbit, The Rescuers Down under

The Nightmare before Christmas, The Lion King ,Hercules ,Mulan ,Fantasia 2000 , Dinosaur, Atlantis the Lost Empire , Meet the Robinsons , Frankenweenie ,Frozen, , Strange World

Not in it at all (Total Number: 42 -including Wish)

Pinocchio, The Reluctant Dragon, Dumbo, Saludos Amigos, Victory through Air power, Three Caballeros, Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan

Sword in the Stone, The Jungle Book, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, The Black Cauldron, The Great Mouse Detective

Oliver and Company, Ducktales the Treasure of the lost lamp, A Goofy Movie, James and the Giant Peach, The Tigger Movie

The Emperor's new Groove, Recess School's out, Return to Neverland, Lilo and Stich, Treasure Planet, The Jungle Book 2

Piglet's big Movie, Brother Bear, Teacher's Pet, Home on the Range, Pooh's Heffalump Movie, Chicken Little, The Wild

Bolt, Winnie the Pooh, Wreck it Ralph, Big Hero 6, Zootopia, Moana, Wreck it Ralph 2, Frozen 2, Raya and the Last Dragon, Encanto, Wish

These are just the animated not live action, and not live action with animation movies. All in all it's more common to see a Disney film with NO romance in it at all then a romantic one.

So why is it that people keep saying, but we're missing the romance, it's because of the fact that most of the time the Parks and other media pair the characters together. Take Peter pan, in the movie, the boy is utterly oblivious to Wendy's affections, to the point of pissing her off enough that she leaves the party that the tribe is hosting. In the parks, and other media (the plays, other movies) the romance is in your face, because people want them to be a couple, but in the movie itself you never see it.

Star, based on the making of book, was supposed to be a younger version of Asha's grandfather, which fits the theming of the movie. However, from what I understand, one of the reasons why they went against is was because it was hitting to close to Genie in the shape shifting. On top of that, the character of Star, seems heavily inspired by the art work of William Joyce, who created Night Light.

This is him and Katherine (Future Mother Goose) who is basically Star in a lot of ways. He lights the night to keep the nightmares away. These two eventually grow up (He remembers He's jack frost) and they end up as a couple.

It would be apping off of that story, and sadly people didn't give the William Joyce movie Meet the Robinsons a chance (don't sleep on that folks please! It is a good story.)

Also straight up give more love to the Guardian's of Childhood, you'll be happy while you read it.

I'm not saying don't ship it, what I am saying is that please don't go saying this was planned when it really wasn't. That was supposed to be her grandfather there.

And I'm not against the art work, I find it very cute and sweet and lover the designs. But I do think that the whole, "WE WERE ROBBED!" thing isn't being at all fair to the creative team behind this story, as again, *points up* they were following the tradition of a story that doesn't have a love interest, which is the vast majority of the stories that they tell.

Wish perfectly falls in line also with Disney's normal length of animated movies.

Wish was 1 hours and 35 minutes

The movie that came out before it clocked in at

Strange World = 1 hours and 42 minutes

Moana = 1 hours and 47 minutes

Frozen = 1 hours and 42 minutes

This Hour long movie thing started really with Atlantis the Lost Empire = 1 hours and 36 minutes

While Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Mulan, Lilo and Stitch all clock in around =1 hour and 30 at most, some are even less than that. Wish's run time is equal to that of Atlantis, or Aladdin, or Treasure planet. So I'm a bit perplexed on the "It's too short" thing. Maybe growing up just before and during the days of Little Mermaid and Aladdin made me like the shorter tales.

Which is another point. With a shorter movie, you never get complete backstory. It's a fairy tale! I mean, look at Little Mermaid. Seriously can you Name any of her sisters from the opening song.

Like seriously, I don't really know a lot of people who can tell me anything about Aquatica, for example. Unless you actually read the books or watched the TV show. And before then we had nothing. Nothing on her mom, nothing on her sisters.

Then there's the town Belle comes from, what do we know about it? Not much, not even who governs the damn thing. Howe about Aladdin before the TV series and King of thieves cleared up everything. We didn't know who his parents were, nor Jasmine's mom. Hell we still don't know anything about Cinderella's father from the animated movie.

Point being, a lot of information, much like Wish, got cut for time. In Snow white we were supposed to be given a longer back story for her father and mother, that was cut due to it being to long, it's in the golden book though. Prince Florian (Yes that is his name) was supposed to have Prince Phillips escape, but it was deemed to hard to animate at the time.

Also there was one that was dancing on the clouds, with STARS, around them that looks very much like you know, our Star.

So basically, he's a nod to what could have been for Snow White all those years ago. Cut for time.

Aladdin had a whole cut song because they chopped his mother out as she was supposed to play a part in the movie and help her son with the Genie.

Zena is her name and she was cut to streamline the film.

Maid Marian in the original Robin Hood was supposed to protect him after his plunge into the water, and protect him from King John while he's threatening her. King Richard appears in the end and scares him into stopping but she's willing to take a dagger to the chest to protect Robin.

This is when Richard meets Robin with Marian telling him all about what happened.

All Disney movies change. Isabel in Encanto was supposed to have a nerdy boyfriend that the family disapproved of.

Hell, Frozen was at one point going to be the Bad guy wins the guy, the hero (Gerta) that we followed all the way to the end rooting for her, was supposed to be a gold digger, and Kai was supposed to say "Nah, I'm gonna stick with the Snow Queen" because she's sad and your a bitch. (Thanks Eisner, I hate it!)

So yeah, there's probably A whole lot of cut content that was supposed to go in, but to streamline it to 95 minutes, you have to cut! At least it's not what happened to the Black Cauldron. No I will never forgive Katzenburg for that travesty!

Disney always used Popular Music over Broadway

Honestly this is the one complaint that I hear that kills me the most about this movie, that the studio went with a pop music team. As if this is not a common thing for Disney movies!

Fun fact, the team behind most of the musical scores up until the 1960s were all composers and musicians that wrote songs for the radio. Or song writers that did radio music. If I listed every single one we'd be here for ages.

The Sherman brothers actually wrote pop tunes for the Teen sweetheart Annette Funicello and several other well known singers and actors of movies.

The first major Broadway group was Ashman and Menken, Followed by Miranda, and the Lopez's. Most, if not all of the biggest Disney songs were written by pop songwriters, whos goal it was to get that song played on the radio.

Hell The Lion King, Tarzan, The Emperors New Groove, and Treasure planet to name a few were all done by Pop musicians. I didn't hear complaining about it back then! What's the difference now? Because the team is not Elton freaking John, or Sting?

All of Oliver and Company was pop songs. Several movies didn't have songs, or only had one.

If we're going to celebrate a studio that helped bring an artform out of it's infancy and show that you could do a full movie of animated pictures where you get emotions out of it, we need to celebrate all aspects, and that includes things we may not realize are kind of unique.

When Hercules and Hunchback came out, people complained about them not being "Traditional" Disney. It was Gospel, it was too dark, or in the case of Tarzan, why are we following a boy, or Treasure planet, "Yuck a space story". Now people adore these movies. People who grew up with them want to celebrate them, and sometimes they don't realize that they were once derided as hard or harder than Wish is being right now.

I just wish that people would give these movies a chance rather than not let the creatives tell their story. We had a whole damn section of 2D animation in Strange World! No one talked about it! No one went "More of this please". Give me these stories, let me enjoy a original fairy tale, because if we keep rehashing things, there's going to be little to celebrate when the next 10 or 20 years rolls around.

Sorry for the kinda rant. This has just been on my nerves for a while.

[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

[nnnn99999]

This post is a result of a note that has been sitting in my drafts since the first episode. It was sitting there for so long because I was waiting for the series to end to see if they would continue this theme to the end, and they did. So here is my essay on family as one of the central themes of peaceful property.

Family has always been my top priority in life. This is actually one of the reasons why I was so touched by peaceful property. Because this series gave me so many different types of familial bonds, good and bad. Because of who I am, I have a hard time relating to romantic love. It's not that I can't feel romantic love, it's just I don't really understand it that well. I have a superficial idea of it, but I've never felt it myself. But familial love is something I can definitely relate to and understand, so peaceful property was such a comfortable watch for me.

So what is family? Or a better question might be, what makes someone family? Family is the people you love and trust unconditionally, the ones you want to stay with for the rest of your life, the ones you find comfort with in the hardest of times, the ones you want to protect with your life, the ones with whom you share such an unbreakable bond that no matter what happens you find your way back to them. You may or may not have blood ties with family, but you definitely have strong emotional ties that can't be broken. This is what family means to me.

From the very beginning, peaceful property gave us different types of families, most of which are non-traditional. Peach and Pangpang, Home and his grandfather and Somkid, Kan and her single father, Suradech as a loner, Rak with her parents and husband, the magician and his sick daughter, Phoom and Vicha, Rider and Tharnsai, Somkid and Yai and finally Home, Peach, Pangpang, Kan and Suradech- all of these are the different families I can remember from the show. (I might be missing some since I'm writing this whole thing from memory but if I don't remember it, it means I didn't care about it.)

My point is, from the very beginning, this show was exploring different kinds of family dynamics. At first, I thought this show wanted to say something about capitalism and classism. But by ep 4, I was questioning my own assumption. By ep 6, I had a new perspective. In my opinion, this show only introduced these topics because money, status and class determine how we interact with others and how we form bonds with others. This show was always about Home's journey to finding his family. It's just that his wealth and status, how these things had been used in his favor, how he has an impact on people who don't have these things, how people perceive him because of it, how his thought process and behavior is influenced by these - all of these affect Home's quest of finding a family. It's not just his personality that matters. His upbringing, his privilege, his lack of understanding of the world due to his privilege matter too.

This is where the different family dynamics come into play. Home, who has no idea about the true meaning of his own name, has to experience all of these different family dynamics to understand what having a family feels like. The goal of the show was clear from the begininning-what is the meaning of Home? No matter how you interpret it, it is clearly about Home's personal journey.

Family was always the driving theme of this show. All actions and motivations of the characters, be it the living or the dead, can be traced back to family in some way. The first ghost helped Home meet his new family, Peach and Pangpang take Home's offer for their family, Kan wanted revenge for family, Somkid became the way he did because of family, Phoom and Vicha ended up the way they did because of family, the magician resorted to playing tricks because of family, Chef Hong's ghost couldn't pass on because she considered Peach family. Most importantly, the main cast who became a family by the end of the show. And there is still so much more sprinkled throughout that I don't have the patience to mention.

At the end of the show, Home's answer to the question "what is home" was wherever feels like home is home. The answer I got from the show is slightly different, or maybe just a little better articulated than Home's answer. What is home? The answer the show gave me was, home is where family is.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #47] Time Out

warnings: the bd lovers doing what they do best: being in luv!! cute date, lots of throwbacks to earlier chapters <33

notes: u can really tell jungkook is my muse bc I'm always so inspired by the content released of him, and the back photo was no different!! soz jimin for cropping u, still luv u tho <3

wc: 4.7K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Two and half million people call this city their home; hang their washing on lines, walk over the cracks in the pavement, rush through the downtown areas with americanos in hand and smiles on their faces, while they gossip with their friends.

They'll whisper about the latest drama at their workplaces, stories told like folklore, repeated and reimagined a dozen times over. These whispers spread like wildfire; blaze the city with what it means to be alive.

And yet as you and Jeongguk lay on your backs, blankets beneath you, punnets of strawberries and packets of breadsticks to the side, there's no intrusion of anyone else.

Sure, the whir of delivery moped motors rattle a few floors down, and every now and again a jet takes off from the military base for routine laps, but neither of you notice.

There's a city of stars inside Jeongguk; dreams and ambition. Hopes, fears - ones you know, and ones you don't. You could get lost down his roadmaps, and yet always find your way back home.

"See," he says with a smile as he points towards a peach cloud that's lazily tailing across the dusky blue sky. "That's the tail right there. You're just looking from the wrong angle."

"Where?" You laugh right back, head resting midway down his chest. The birds that fly overhead would think you're in a 'T' formation, if they had any understanding of the Latin alphabet.

He's been trying to convince you for a good few minutes that the cloud is shaped like a dragon, but you just can't see it how he does. Looking at the same sky, yet seeing different things.

It's sort of always been that way with you too. Different understandings of the world, and different ways of communicating these understandings. Neither one of you are right, nor wrong. Just different.

The hand of Jeongguk's that isn't pointing to the sky rests by your head, not really doing much. Strokes your hair, occasionally. Scratches your scalp like you're a little puppy. Mostly just holds the top of your head, as if he's protecting your mind from thinking too hard. There's a little bit of dried paint on his fingers, but nothing that bothers you. If anything flakes off, it'll just be washed straight out that evening when you eventually shower.

"Right there," he laughs, chest vibrating hard enough to make your head shake.

There's a safety that comes with Jeongguk; how his palms gently stroke your skin, keeping you close, always. A simplicity, too, in how nothing ever feels too difficult.

In fact, the hardest part of being with Jeongguk like this is the fact that you can't let yourself give in to your emotions; how you want to show him how deeply your affections for him run.

Sex has always been a tool, in that regard. A helping hand. A facilitator of your feelings.

And while you miss the intimacy you're used to sharing with him, it's undeniable that a new, uncharted , form of intimacy is forming.

The clouds drift on by. New shapes greet you just for long enough for the pair of you to dispute what they are, before departing once more. Fleeting and frivolous, the conversations you're engaging in mean nothing at all, and that's one of the things you like about time spent with Jeongguk; how nothing becomes something.

With time, much like your feelings for Jeongguk, the sunset deepens. Grows darker, but not in such a way it invokes fear – more so in the way it embraces you like a warm hug. Welcomes you back. Hides you from the world.

There's still some colour to the sky, and you want to preserve it. Could just take a picture – but you've got so much leftover paint. It's a no-brainer. Only issue is, you've used all the canvases.

Your only option, it would seem, is to use Jeongguk's back.

And who is he to stand in the way of your creative vision?

He lies on his front, arms folded beneath his cheek that's resting upon them. Shirt discarded, his skin is yours to adorn in whatever you like. Eyes closed, there's not exactly anything for him to be looking at – not when you're straddled across his back, out of sight. Why would he care to look at anything other than you? Would only be a waste.

With a knee on either side of his hips, your hands trace over his back gently, assessing how you want to paint him. Part of you doesn't want to do it all; wants to leave his skin pristine.

The broadness of his back is no sudden surprise. You've left marks down the valley of his spine more times than you care to remember. Have left evidence of your lips between his shoulder blades. Pressed dainty littles from the of his tattoo sleeve up to the nape of his neck. Adored. Appreciated. Valued. Worshipped.

But even now, there's something about his body that destroys your mind. It's just atoms. A cluster of cells. A little stardust – and yet he's like a constellation yet to be discovered. They'll honour you. Name him after you. Your big astrological finding; Your Jeon Jeongguk. Tie you to him endlessly. Forever.

The concept of Jeongguk being 'forever' is not new to you. In fact, his permanence has been steadily established over the course of your friendship.

It's just that 'forever' and 'yours' hadn't ever seemed like a real possibility back then.

But now they do.

Articulating such thoughts so early on in the whole dating thing would be naïve and premature, so you keep your mouth shut – but you do also lean down and press a soft kiss to the top of his spine.

"Doesn't feel like paint," he mumbles, a smile on his pretty lips.

"It is," you insist.

"Oh, well in that case," he says, turning his head a little more intentionally to rest his chin on the top of his shoulder. Eyes still closed, there's a sweetness to him whenever his like this; skin dewy, stars hidden. "You missed a bit."

"Did I really?" You simper, leaning a little closer. Let your nose nudge down against his. When your lips are close enough to touch, you whisper, "Where?"

"Right," he husks, pressing his lips up to yours. It's slow. Pastel compared to how brightly he makes you feel. Gentle. "Here."

And even though the kisses are tiny, unable to accurately convey the weight of your feelings for him, Jeongguk knows exactly how you feel. Know that when you first met him, the idea of affection displayed in such a way would send you running for the hills – and now you're the one keeping him locked in place as you straddle his back.

"I'll never get bored of this," he admits. "Never."

"It's only been two dates."

"So? Gimmie two hundred. I'll be saying the same."

"You're so dumb," you giggle as you sit back up, the butterflies in your stomach doing their utmost to let you know they're alive and kicking. Are so violent beneath your ribs that it's a miracle they don't crack one. Wouldn't matter even if they did – Jeongguk'd just it better.

"Determined," Jeongguk counters, that serene smile still on his lips, piercing glimmering in the low light of sunset.

The skies are fading from cherry blossom pink to periwinkle grey, and soon enough they'll be as dark as the lashes splayed across the top of Jeongguk's cheeks. The stars will appear like the freckles on his skin, and it'll be even harder to resist him.

For now, though, you focus on emulating the gradient of the sky, gently dipping one of the brushes into the paint set out especially for this. Your little canvases are dry now, Jeongguk's annoyingly better than yours. You did three tiny paintings each, all with different prompts. No bigger than your palms, they were finished quickly.

The first prompt was a little abstract: paint how the other person makes you feel.

You'd gone with gradients of pink for a background, and a little disco ball in the middle. He'd gone for a starry night sky.

The second was far more direct: your favourite feature of one another.

It had been a struggle for you both to decide on just one feature, and Jeongguk totally cheated by drawing a little stick person and claiming it was you.

But you had cheated too – a teeny black dot.

"Freckle," you'd stated plainly, and when asked which one, you'd grinned and said, "All of them."

The third and final canvas had been the most complex of them all: your favourite memory together.

You spent longer deliberating it than actually drawing it. Settled on Busan; Gwangalli Bay and the infamous bridge that runs across it. Jeongguk couldn't help his smile when he realised what you were creating. Made him feel all kinds of fucked up seeing his forever home painting his childhood home.

When he finally showed you his, you were a little confused.

It was his bed, that much was certain, a flock of paper birds above it.

No distinct memory tied to it, or so you think, until he sheepishly admitted, "I just... Those birds changed everything. Who knows where we would have ended up without them? They're my favourite memory 'cause they cleared the path for the rest of our memories to follow."

"You don't think we would have ended up here regardless?" You had teased, as if it weren't entirely plausible.

Jeongguk had shrugged. Pulled you onto his lap. Kissed you with such intent it felt like you were melting into the warmth of his embrace. "Think you stole so much oxygen from me during that first kiss, that you might have damaged my brain a little in the process. Haven't been able to think straight since then, unless I'm thinking about you."

"I can steal more, if you like?" you'd grinned against his lips. "Make sure you never stop thinking about me."

"B, I don't think that's anything you ever need to worry about," Jeongguk had whispered. "Think I'm gonna be stuck on you until the day I die."

"Morbid."

"Honest."

"Why are we even torturing ourselves?" You'd whined beneath laboured breaths and little kisses, hips languidly grinding against his. "I'll give you forever – just fuck me. Please ."

His hips had picked up as much pace as they could in his position, one of his large hands coming to clasp your wrists behind your back. Still straddling him, you relinquished control as he angled you further back, exposing the wanton look of unadulterated desire on your face as he rutted up against you.

"They're gonna think we're fucking," Jeongguk grunted, nodding to the high-rise towers across the street from your mid-rise apartment. There's an easy twenty floors that look down upon your rooftop.

"Let them."

"Gonna think you're taking my cock," he'd husked, well aware of how thick the bulge in his trousers was. "Gonna think you're bouncing on it like a pretty little slut, aren't they?"

"You want that? Want people to see me getting fucked?"

With a shake of his head, he'd said, "Nah. Want people to see you getting fucked by me . Want them to know exactly who this pussy belongs to."

"You don't own shit."

"Why can I feel how wet you are then, if it's not mine?"

"Basic biology, baby," you'd teased, 'cause you'll never give him the satisfaction of an easy victory. You know that Jeongguk is competitive, and the fair sport in him will always enjoy having to work a little harder for an honest win. "You never go to school?"

"Clearly you didn't," Jeongguk smirked right back, enjoying the bratty side of you he doesn't see as often as he'd really like. You're always a pain in his ass, but something about it when you're in a position like this just really gets him going. "Lacking basic discipline."

"So punish me," you'd flirted. "Show me how you want me to behave."

"Address me properly first."

"We've had this fight before," you reminded him, quietly enamoured by the predictability of it. He's a Virgo, after all. Stuck in his ways. Disciplined . You guess it's why he gets off on topics of conversation like this – order, rules , and the desperate need to stick to them. You don't mind the flirt. What gets him riled up will always, inevitably, have the same effect on you. Just a by-product of how hopelessly infatuated you are. "You don't wanna go down this path."

" Properly ," he'd reinforced.

Fine , you thought.

"So punish me, Sir ."

"Better – but you're in no position to be giving orders." He'd gripped your wrists even tighter. Pulled your posture straighter. Had you gasping a little. "Ask nicely, baby."

"Please," you'd husked, giving in to him because – fuck . " Please punish me, Sir."

Tilting his head to the side, Jeongguk had smirked. Shrugged. "Fine." Kissed you softly, then loosened his grip. Manoeuvred you off his lap.

Adjusted his throbbing cock beneath the confines of his pants, then said, "You're in detention."

"What?" You'd exclaimed, staring at him with wide eyes and an even wider mouth.

"Time out, whatever you want to call it."

The flippancy of his remarks and sudden disinterest wound you up to no avail. You knew it was intentional, and still, you let it. Couldn't help but play right into his little game.

"Under what grounds?!"

"For talking back to a superior-"

"A superior?!"

"There you go again, baby," he'd smirked, reaching for your hand to give it a little squeeze (and check that you weren't really annoyed). "Just extended that time out."

"Oh, you are gonna rue the day you-"

"Extended again," he'd laughed, pulling you closer despite your protests – but when he kissed you, all you could do was give in. You wanted him so badly it hurt . He'd laughed, mumbling into your lips, "You never learn, do you baby? So bratty. So cute."

"I hate you so much."

"So stop kissing me."

"Fuck you."

"You're not allowed," Jeongguk had grinned against your lips. "Time out."

For all of his incessant neediness, Jeongguk could be a stubborn mother fucker when he wanted to be – and proved his point effortlessly for the rest of the evening.

You hadn't tried instigating again, because you knew how it would end up and decided that perhaps he was right to put you on time out.

While no, it's not your fault he's the sexiest man that's ever walked this Earth, and no, you can't be blamed for turning into a salivating mess at the mere thought of getting his cock in your mouth, it is your responsibility to honour the challenge you've set yourselves.

If he can do it, so can you.

It's also sort of why you've made him lay on his front.

If you were to be painting his chest, instead of his back, you'd only end up in the exact same position as before. This way, you can control yourself a little (even if he does have the peachiest ass you've ever seen (guys and girls alike, there's no one beating him (though you never really looked at Jimin's ass for all that long))).

You take great pleasure in the slight chirp he does when you adjust yourself, reaching back for a different shade of blue. It'd be a lie if you said the grind against wasn't even a little bit deliberate.

"And you were saying you didn't want me to fuck your ass," you mutter with a dramatic flair, teasing him slightly for his reaction.

"Never said that," he smirks, mumbling a little. "But a little decorum, please B. If you're gonna fuck it, at least eat it first."

"You prefer to be wined and dined?" You tease right back.

"Don't we all?"

"Romantic."

"Who said anything about romance?" Jeongguk deadpans. "We're just friends?"

"Ah, yeah, my bad," you joke along with him. "Besties."

"Besties who've had each other's genitals in their mouths."

"Don't all besties give each other head?" You question, tone so flippant your joke almost goes over his head.

"If they don't, they should," Jeongguk declares. Thinks fucking his best friend is arguably one of the best things he's ever done. Probably wouldn't recommend it, if he gave it serious consideration, but knows he'd do it again.

"Let's stop talking about sex," you blurt out a little too quickly, which only leads Jeongguk to laugh and question your motives for such a statement.

"Why? Can't control yourself?"

"Have a little decorum, Jeongguk."

"Fair."

He lets you paint without much disturbance. Loves the way it feels to have a saturated brush stroke across his skin. Hums little tunes and makes you guess which song they're meant to be. It's something you could listen to for hours; his voice, and how angelic it is.

Before you know it, you're done, and his back is the prettiest sunset ever witnessed on this earth – all pinks and oranges, blues and pretty white clouds.

You quickly snap a picture of his back – a little angled, capturing just how divine his physique is, but also the art that adorns it. You're no Picasso, but you ain't half bad.

"Here," you say as you clamber off him, and pass him your phone.

He sits up a little, resting on his elbows and looks at the picture with a smile so warm he could burn a hole in the blanket he's lying on top of. Doesn't ask your permission as he presses a few buttons and sets it as your wallpaper.

"I love it," he says softly, passing you back your phone. Angles himself perfectly for a kiss, and you don't even give a second thought as you sink your lips into his. "Talented baby, aren't you?"

"I'm okay," you blush, a little embarrassed by his praise – but he shakes his head.

" So good. Give Tae a run for his money."

"Now that's just an insult to Tae," you laugh, getting comfy on the sheets beneath you both. On your back, you look up to the sky above you. Deep and dark, nighttime greets you like an old friend.

Still on his front, Jeongguk sinks back down, but keeps his head angled towards you. "You don't give yourself enough credit, B."

You think you give yourself plenty. Won't argue against him, 'cause you know what he's like. He'll just double down and be even kinder and then you'll have no choice but the say fuck it and break the rules of your little five-date challenge. It's already been torture. Having him play nicely will only make it worse.

Looking over at him, you brush a little bit of his hair back, as if it were out of place. It wasn't. You just wanted an excuse to touch him. He knows this. Doesn't object. Lets you toy with his hair, because he likes the contact just as much as you do. Has got those pesky stars in his midnight eyes again.

"That thing you said earlier," you muse. "About the birds, and them leading us here..."

"What about it?"

Smiling a little to yourself, you weigh up whether or not you want to divulge a weakness – then decide that he deserves to know. Even though he's never expressed much insecurity over what happened with Jimin, it must be something he considers from time to time.

"I had such a crush on you," you smile, leaning into your weakness, 'cause you know they'll make whatever you have going on with Jeongguk stronger.

"Had?" he hums. "Past tense? You stopped?"

"No," you whisper, as if you're sharing a secret. Bite down on your lip, eyes just as sparkly as the glitter around them. He'll never grow tired of looking at you. Never. "Let me finish my little story."

"Sorry, sorry," he grins, biting down on his lip too, 'cause he just can't help himself. Is so terribly enamoured with you. Can feel his blood as it races through his body, alive with the sensation of what it feels like to experience all the high of a drug without any of the comedowns. In the corner of his mouth, his lip ring does the thing, and it confirms that your crush could never be past tense.

"You remember that first night? In Dionysus?"

He nods.

"I just... God, I fancied you so much," you laugh covering your face with your hand – but it's pulled away by an equally smiley Jeongguk. "Like... You were just so cool, and nice, and – I mean, you have access to mirrors. It's so embarrassing –"

"It's not," he encourages, squeezing the hand he's still holding.

"Oh, but it is," you assure him ever so playfully. "You asked me what I liked – "

"I remember," he says, not to interrupt you, just to reassure you that the memories of that night are just as impactful for him. That he cared just as much as you did, even if neither of you realised it. "Said alcohol."

You nod. "It wasn't a lie – but it wasn't the whole truth."

"No?"

"No," you admit. "Was totally lost for words. Couldn't think of an answer that wasn't 'you'. Panicked and just said alcohol and like – oh god, it's so embarrassing – I just... I thought you were so nice. And not in the way that people say 'nice' to mean boring, I mean nice in the kindest of ways. You were like... like this beacon, right. Like this light . And I just wanted to be wherever you were."

You've never really thought about it, but a light is the best way to describe Jeongguk. He's hope after hardship. The promise of something new. Stars burning so brightly they could blind. It'd make sense.

After all - disco balls need to be shined upon. Need light to reflect the magnificence of their mirrors.

And perhaps you needed Jeongguk. Not to fix you, nor to pretend like your past had never happened; but to help you restore yourself. Become stronger. He put glue on your glass, and let you stick it in place. Different from what you once were, but arguably far more beautiful. Complex in a way your past self wouldn't recognise.

Maddeningly complicated, and yet so effortlessly simple; that's you and Jeongguk. Just a girl, and a boy. A disco ball, and a barman. A bad decision, and the conviction to make it regardless of the outcome – and fuck . You're glad for it. Would make all your mistakes ten times over if it put you here.

Your only regret is that it took you so long.

"That's why you kept coming back to the bar, hm?" He hums.

"I drank far too much that night," you laugh. "Would also get halfway through a drink, and then give it to Hobes just so I could run back to get another one from you."

The admittance is just as freeing as it is embarrassing. Honesty is nice, and the least of what you both deserve.

"That first summer," he says, exhaling a deep breath. Decides to repay your vulnerability with a little of his own. "I looked for you. Every shift. I served drinks, and I looked for you in the crowd and did little else. Drove myself crazy on the nights you weren't there."

"I was there most weeks," you remind him – but then that reminds you both that the first weekend you weren't there was the time when Seokjin came back to town just to fuck with your still fragile heart. It doesn't affect you now, not in the way it did. Still annoys you. Pisses you off that someone could treat you so horribly – but it doesn't hurt. Not anymore. "And even when I wasn't... Well, I mean I still ended up at yours that night, didn't I, Gguk? My silly little brain felt like it was falling apart and it thought , y'know what'll fix this? Fix me? Jeongguk ."

There's silence for a second. Acknowledgement that this has always been more than what you've tried to cosplay it as.

"Just took me a while to realise," you admit a little sheepishly.

"When?" he quietly implores. "When did you realise?"

"Think I've known for a while, now," you admit. "But for definite ? Pohang – Yoongi and Seoyeon's celebrations – that's where I kinda reached the point of no return, yanno? Knew that if you didn't want more, then I was screwed."

He shakes his head with a disbelieving smile - not at you, but at how stupidly poetic it all is. Mutters, "Something about sea air, man."

"Whatcha mean?"

"Busan," he simply states. "That's when I knew. I mean, I already knew – but then Busan happened and I just... you asked me what we were. And I panicked. Thought that you were reinforcing the whole... friends thing."

"Oh, you idiot," you laugh. "Gguk, I was practically begging for you to say that it meant more."

"Yeah, see, retrospectively, that's very clear – but hey! You never outwardly said you liked me!"

"Because rejection might not be my main issue, but it's still not nice!"

"Oh my God," he gasps, coming to an awful realisation. " I rejected you . I totally rejected you. Oh, I'm so sorry."

And despite the apologies that are mumbled through little giggles, and the way he keeps calling you baby, it's the way Jeongguk holds your cheeks and peppers you in teeny tiny kisses – forehead, nose, cheeks, lips – that let you know he really does mean it.

The night dissolves in much the same way – laughter and kisses that are really just an excuse to feel close to one another. The security that comes with admitting you didn't rush in, that this is something you've given an endless amount of thought to, is liberating.

Jeongguk does argue, again, that you don't need the five dates. Whines. Says that you're both sure of it. Says that he's basically been dating you for months. Tells you how nice it feels to talk like this. How happy it makes him feel. How much he wishes he could go back in time. Undo things, and get them right the first time.

"I don't mind," you muse, still up on the rooftop as it nears midnight. You're looking up at the stars, and Jeongguk is on his front, head resting on your chest. Mindlessly playing with his hair, you provide him with a comfort he doesn't think he's ever felt before. "The things that went wrong, I mean. You're still obsessed with me regardless-"

"I tolerate you," he jokes, and it makes you smile.

The thing is, you've been tolerated before.

Jeongguk doesn't tolerate you. He venerates you. Reveres. Worships, on occasion. Adores, constantly. Even when you fight, or are being quite intolerable, he never looks at you without stars in his eyes. You've argued before. Insisted that he didn't give a shit, but you've never believed it. Not really. Just wanted him to say that he cared.

'Cause unlike people from the past, you know that Jeongguk does. Know that you don't need to beg him to treat you with compassion.

And so you say, "You're a liar, Jeon Jeongguk."

"Yeah," he whispers with a smile. "I am."

"You are obsessed with me."

"Yeah. I am."

"You should shower," you eventually concede, knowing you need to go back to reality and face the world at some point. "Wash this paint off. Have left it on for far too long already. You'll break out."

"Don't act like you give a shit about my skin," Jeongguk laughs. "You just want me naked."

"I never said I'd join you."

"You always join me."

"Not today."

"You're gonna kill me," Jeongguk whines into your chest. Squeezes a boob, just 'cause he can. "So mean, Disco Ball."

"And that," you laugh, ridding his grip on you. "That's exactly why I won't be joining you."

Funny, really.

Not even ten minutes later, he's standing beneath the steamy onslaught of your shower, back pressed to the tiles, a brow raised as the water runs down his torso. The rivulets drip across his abs, down his v-line and to his –

"That thing where I said I wasn't gonna join you-"

"Get in."

[sarahowritesostucky]

Just a little preview of what I'm obsessing over today. Can't write any more right now 'cause I have to go to work. Let me know what y'all think!

Lee Bodecker x OFC : Sweet as Pie

The bell above the door ‘dings’ as Lee pushes inside that evening. His mouth thins as he glances around the length of the diner and thinks, Jesus, pink. It’s an old double railcar joint that’d gone to shit over the years, but somebody bought it last year and fixed it up, and it’s been open since the spring.

Lee squints at the teenagers that are there in a couple of weeknight gaggles, sipping their milkshakes on double dates. He's still in uniform from work, so he gets the usual avoidant glances as he ambles all the way to the back to a two-seater booth in the corner. He sits with his back to the wall and waits until the girl waiting tables pops out from the kitchen and notices him. She’s the whole reason he’s even there. 

“Margaret Laferty,” he drawls, grinning and eyeing her up as she walks over with a plastic menu in hand. “Christ, Miss Maggie, you look just the same.” She blushes and smiles, and Lee amends, “Naw, prettier. You grew up some since I saw you last.” He accepts the menu that she hands him and opens it to take a look, even though he’s not really there for the food. He lets his eyes drag over her body, admiring the way the cute waitress dress hugs her body. She’s a petite little thing, but a few years have given her some curves in all the right places. She’s developing a woman’s body now, no longer the stick-skinny schoolgirl Lee used to see in the front pew each Sunday. “How long’s it been, Darlin’? I thought you’d gone off to college?” 

Her smile wavers and she averts her eyes. “Oh. Yeah. Well, you know … That didn’t, uh, didn’t exactly pan out.”

“No?” 

She shrugs. “I’m back here for now. To help my mom.”

Lee sobers and nods in understanding. Roy Laferty’s locked up right now, serving two to ten out in Watoosa. Lee should know: he’s the one who was on-scene that night, slapped the cuffs on the sorry sonofabitch himself.

Still, it ain’t Maggie’s fault that her father’s a no-good town drunk whose number’s finally come up. “That’s real good of you, Mags,” he says solemnly. “You’re a good girl. Your momma’s lucky to have you.”

She nods politely, but it’s only manners. “Thanks, Sheriff.” 

Lee feigns displeasure. “Now how many times I gotta tell you to call me Lee?” he teases, pleased when it gets a little smile out of her. He grins and points at her warningly. “Don’t make me have to tell you again. That’s a ticketable offense.”

She titters shyly and fumbles to get out her notepad and pen. “Right. I’ll try to remember. … Lee.”

Boy, his name sure does sound good coming from her pretty mouth. Lee can’t help but imagine what it’d sound like riding the coattails of a sweet little moan. “Good girl,” he murmurs, well-aware of how she squirms in response to the praise. He sucks his teeth and takes another look down at the menu. “This is my first time in here. What’s good?”

“Oh! Um, well the milkshakes are popular,” Maggie says. “And the cheeseburger.”

“Hm. I guess that’s what I’ll have to get, then,” he decides, closing the menu and setting it down. “But say … You got any pie ‘round here?”

She nods brightly. “Oh sure! Peach and cherry pie. Just fresh today.”

Lee grins and leans forward with playfully narrowed eyes. “Did you make ‘em, by any chance?” She bites her lip and nods, and Lee slaps the Formica tabletop cheerfully. “Well there you have it. Gimme a slice of pie instead of the milkshake. I’ve had your pie at the county fair, young lady. I know you make ‘em better than any I ever had before.” She blushes beautifully and smiles, and Lee slides the menu over to her from across the table. “Cheeseburger and fries, sweet tea, and a slice of pie.”

“What kind do you want?” she asks.

“Hmm, if you made it? How about I try that peach pie?” He shoots her a wink. “Slice ‘a peach, from a peach.”

I'm mildly convinced that nobody's going to be interested in this pairing, so if you are and would like to be on the tag list, let me know!

tag list sign up here

Nonnie! - I've named her Margaret as requested, but will be heavily using the nicknames Mags, Maggie, and Magpie. Hope that still hits the spot!

[kteezy997]

The Other Man- Part Four// t.c.

Warnings: arguing (not with Timmy), cursing, kissing, Timmy calling reader "dummy"

"Can you believe that fucking guy?" Billy said aloud. "Crossing me like that, in my house. Fuck 'im."

"Well, he was right." you said under your breath, going upstairs.

"What was that?" he snapped at you.

"You're drunk, Billy. Just shut up."

"No, no, you agree with that little punk?"

You turned around to face your husband. "Of course I do! You have no respect for me anymore Billy."

"Are you fucking Timmy or something, y/n?!"

You were shocked that he even thought that, that he even questioned it. Even though it was true. "What?! How is that even relevant to what we're talking about? This isn't about Timmy."

"But are you fucking him?!" Billy was shouting now.

You were getting to the point where you totally disliked this man you were married to, and you could barely stand the sight of him. You wanted to be with Timmy, it was true, but you wanted to be away from Billy just as much.

"I want a divorce! I want you out of my fucking house, Billy! I don't love you anymore."

........

When Billy moved out, you were glad to be rid of him, and to be a separated woman. But you missed Timmy terribly. It had been two days without any contact from him. You wanted him to have space. But you didn't want your relationship to end, especially when you didn't do anything wrong, not to Timmy anyway.

You grew more miserable by each hour that went by without a word from him. You knew he had Amelia, but you truly thought he cared for you too. You hoped he wasn't ghosting you. At the very least, you wanted closure. But if you were being totally honest, you just wanted Timmy. All for yourself.

…….

Amelia loved Timothée Chalamet. Sure, the relationship between them was under contract, but by faking kisses, going on getaways, and attending fashion shows together, she fell in love over time. Timmy had a sense of humor and charm that could make anyone fall in love with him. They'd known each other for a while now and though they weren't romantic for real, they understood and respected each other.

Secretly, Amelia wanted to be with him, and not in a fake way. But she knew her feelings were unrequited. She could sense that Timmy cared for her and enjoyed her company at times, but she knew that she wasn't a priority in his life. She was more of an obligation that anything, that she knew.

It made her sad, but he had unknowingly cushioned the blow by giving her some of the most sensual and sexy nights of her life. They had a sort of friends with benefits situation going on. It didn't happen often. It was basically when Timmy wasn't in a real relationship, and he was lonely, or bored. But she didn't care if they were just booty calls, because it felt good to just be wanted by him. Even if it wasn't really real. Timmy was the only man she loved.

Lately though, Timmy had been even more distant than usual. They had become confidants in one another, and friends even. Now, he didn't ever talk to her. She invited him to dinner at her place, but he acted like he'd much rather be somewhere else. He'd said something about 'game night' at Billy and y/n's house, but he hadn't ever been so antsy to go to a game night before. It made her wonder what else was on his mind.

........

You couldn't believe it when you saw Timmy's name flashing on your phone screen. "I'm sorry," you told your coworkers, "it's important, I have to take this." To you, it was important enough to skip out on work to talk to him.

"Timmy?" you answered, your heart racing.

"Hey Peaches." he responded, cheerily.

You felt a sense of relief hearing him still using the nickname he'd given you.

“Hey, I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry I haven’t called for a couple of days. I should have checked on you sooner. I didn’t mean anything by it, just got a lot of shit on my mind, ya know?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I miss you, Timmy. Can I see you?” you asked.

“Yes. I miss you so much, I need to see you as soon as possible. The minute you get off work, I’ll pick you up. We’ll go somewhere.” his voice was so soft and endearing, like you were being cuddled and warmed up by each syllable.

"Okay. You promise? There's so much I want to say to you." You needed further assurance, probably because he'd been gone from you for what felt like such a long time. You didn't want to be without him again.

"Yes, of course I promise. You have my word, y/n. And my heart. You should know that."

You melted from the inside, "Oh, Timmy." you cooed, "I'll see you soon."

...........

You practically ran out of the office at quitting time. And there he was, sitting in his car waiting for you. "Timmy!" you called to him.

He snapped his gaze over to you upon hearing your voice, and he got out of the car. He immediately took you into his arms, squeezing you tightly. "God, feels like forever." he groaned, resting his head on yours.

"I know. I'm so happy to see you." You said, loosening your hold on him to look in his eyes. "It's over with Billy. I kicked him out of the house and we're getting a divorce."

He nodded, "That's good! He's turned into such an asshole. He doesn't deserve you." He touched his nose to yours so sweetly, pulling you more snuggly against him.

"I know, it's been a long time coming. Even before...us. I should have kicked him out ages ago."

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, eyes lingering down to your lips just for a second before they returned to your eyes.

"Yes." you replied, closing your eyes as he leaned down, touching his lips to yours softly.

He pressed his lips against yours but kept the kiss chaste as you were standing on a public street, while it was still daylight. "I love your lips. They're my favorite thing. I could do this all day long." he smirked, kissing you again.

"Timmy." you gasped softly as he moved down, his lips traveling from your cheek to your neck. "Let's get out of here, okay?"

Timmy stopped kissing, "Yeah." He took you by the hand, leading you around the car and opening the door for you. "Do you want to get some dinner?" he asked you as he got into the driver seat.

"Yeah, that sounds great."

It was so lovely. He took you to a ritzy place that you couldn't afford. He spoiled you rotten. The meal had several courses and he insisted that you try a desert.

You talked about everything and nothing, and it felt so comfortable, so natural. This was the type of thing you were missing. You and Billy didn't spend quality time together. Billy didn't care to do that. But Timmy did. Timmy was enjoying your time together, indulging you in gourmet food and sweet conversation. Timmy held your hand across the table, and you played footsy underneath it.

It felt like you two were just a normal couple. As if one of you wasn't on the brink of divorce and the other didn't have a girlfriend.

It was dark when you left the restaurant. Timmy put his arm around you as you walked to his car. The streetlamps produced a yellow-orange hue that made his curls look fuzzy when it shined on them. The lighting also defined his high cheekbones in shadows, basically putting a spotlight on his perfect porcelain skin that was sprinkled with freckles.

You were in awe of this man that was so beautiful, inside and out. It saddened you to share him. You knew Amelia, not well, but she seemed like a nice person. As much as you hated yourself for it, you wished there was a way to make her disappear from his life completely.

Timmy kept one hand on the steering wheel, and the other on your thigh. "I love this, y/n."

"The feeling of my trousers?" you joked, giggling.

He smiled and chuckled, "No, dummy, just...being with you."

"Me too. I wish it could always be like this."

"Maybe one day, we can have it." he said, taking your hand.

"Is this about Amelia? You never say anything about her."

"y/n, it's just...it's more complicated than you know." he said, sighing.

"Then tell me. You said you had stuff on your mind. You can trust me Timmy." you leaned over tucking your arm underneath his affectionately, and kissing him on the cheek.

"I know, and I do trust you. I'll just tell you: Amelia and I- our relationship isn't real. It's under contract for public promotion."

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator

[autism-autobot]

Flower of a Poisonous Seed Part 10

Wow! Double digits!

Tw: Pica, blood, self harm, (let me know if I missed anything)

Part 9:

To say Sun Wukong was stressed would be an understatement, but it hadn't gotten this bad in public before.

He didn't even entirely understand the reasoning behind his stress, although it could be because Nezha was taking a little bit too much time in his most recent meeting. And as usual, he was sitting on the couch in the Demon Bull Family's home.

Whenever Wukong was stressed, he had the most terrible cravings. It was the mixture of a trauma and a sorry attempt at coping with it. At least he thought it was sorry.

He was an emotional eater for as long as he could remember. Peaches usually did the trick. But there were no peaches for him to eat after Macaque left him starving under the mountain.

So he settled for eating himself.

Apparently, there was a word for his compulsive cravings: Pica, as one of his relatives has described it. Wukong ate his own hair often, it was satisfactory enough...

...usually.

But he was too stressed now. Hair wasn't enough. Not enough to satisfy his tastes at the moment.

So he started biting his hand, hard.

Wukong heard his bones snap and the felt the pain that followed soon after, but he didn't stop there. It took a few bites before he ripped off a whole chunk of his hand: the thumb and index fingers, and a good chunk of the palm, too.

Blood sprayed from the open wound. He swallowed as much of it as he could. With the whole chunk now thoroughly chewed up, he swallowed that too.

Luckily he had locked himself in one of many bathrooms in DBK's place, so no one would be able to find him like this.

Almost no one.

~~~

The Demon Bull King could smell his little brother a mile away, and it would serve him well now. He had the slightest bit of worry at finding the room he left Wukong to rest in empty. DBK didn't show it, of course. It was only when he picked up the unmistakable scent of blood mixed with his brother's natural odor did he really begin to panic.

He ripped the bathroom door clean off its hinges to find his peach-loving compatriot eating anything but that.

Demon Bull King scooped up Wukong while he was still shocked by the sudden arrival. Noticing his scared, teary, and regretful eyes and remembering the illness Nezha had informed him of, Demon Bull King decided not to lecture him now.

It was clear this was the result of a mentally unwell and quite sickly individual.

Oh, his poor brother.

~~~

The Demon Bull Family carefully inspected all of Sun Wukong's wounds: patches of raw flesh (the result of hair ripped to the scalp) , half a hand and a whole foot bitten (almost) clean off, and bleeding teeth and gums from eating through the aforementioned body parts.

None of them had the heart to lecture him. A strange occurrence, really, to have them of all people self-silenced on the matter. Wukong honestly preferred the yelling.

The family bandaged him up, put him in fresh clothes, and wrapped him up in a blanket. Demon Bull King held Wukong in his arms like a swaddled infant. Neither of them minded. It had been a long enough day as is.

~Some hours later~

SWK: I'm sorry.

DBK: It's alright, little brother.

SWK: I was stressed and scared.

DBK: I know, brother. Nezha should be returning soon. He has never taken this long before, has he?

SWK: No... what if something happened to him?

DBK: I doubt anything did.

PIF: Celestial meetings can take an unreasonable amount of time. I know from experience.

DBK: Even if something were to happen, he is a fierce opponent! All in this room know as much.

SWK: Yeah, I just get anxious without him around. He's been looking out for me for a while now, it's crazy to think that I ever managed alone.

RS: But you didn't manage alone, isn't that the whole point of the four of us acting as a support system?

PIF: Indeed, not to mention you have been getting sicker.

DBK: What even is the cause of your illness? And how far will this continue to progress before you show signs of recovery?

SWK: Honestly? I don't know. It might be purely mental. But it's affecting my body to such an extent that I'm not sure if it really is just my mental health going in a downward spiral.

RS: So we just do nothing?!

SWK: Nezha said he'd get to the bottom of this, his says he doesn't want me worrying any more than I have to in case it really is about my mental health alone.

DBK: So it is being dealt with?

SWK: Yeah, I think.

DBK: Better than waiting for something worse to happen to you.

PIF: Nezha is a very capable man, he'll get to the bottom of this.

RS: And speak of the devil! Look who's here!

Nezha: I apologize for my tardiness. I was setting up an appointment for Wu- *gets full body tackled by Wukong*

SWK: Hi!

Nezha: *pinned to the ground by Wukong's body weight* Hello Wukong.

SWK: I MISSED YOU!!!!!

Nezha: I missed you too. Setting up that appointment for you took longer than expected and that meeting took ages!

SWK: Setting up the what-

Nezha: We'll discuss it at home. For now... CAN YOU PLEASE GET OFF OF ME!!!!!

SWK: Sorry *gets off of him*

Nezha: You definitely lost weight since falling ill, but you still weight enough to feel like you'd crush my ribs in.

SWK: Can we go home now?

Nezha: Yes, yes we ca- WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU HANDS???!!!!

SWK: I had another pica incident.

The Demon Bull Family: ANOTHER????!!!!

Part 11:

Masterpost