#pathetic little poet man ....

[skeleton-orb]

regretfully i must inform u. i am once again thinking ceaselessly about spike.

[nerdy-novelist017]

Little Bunny (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

First time writing fanfic in years but what can I say? I see Austin Butler smoking a cigarette and giving Bedroom Eyes™️ and I'm suddenly a poet. Enjoy!

Part 2 here

Word Count- 2.7k+

Summary- Being surrounded by loud motorcycles, drunk bikers and hungry eyes was not something you'd ever experienced before. Neither was the intense blue gaze of a certain blonde biker.

*****

You didn’t belong here. That much was obvious. You in your white dress blowing softly around your thighs from the summer’s evening breeze. You in your kitten heels sinking into the mud beneath you. You . . . holding your Tupperware filled with homemade cookies. You felt the eyes of just about every person there burning into you as you walked across the grassy field, trailing slightly behind your friend as she made her way to the picnic benches in the center of what looked to be a makeshift race track. 

This is not at all what you pictured when Kathy had told you last night about a cookout and race she was going to. She had said that it was hosted by one of her friends in a club and that you should come to. You were just going to gently shoot her proposition down, but with one of your New Year's Resolutions being to push yourself to be more outgoing and attempt to break the shy vice that often gripped you tight, you reluctantly agreed. In a pathetic attempt to get the nerves to go away, you were up all night baking, something you found to be therapeutic as it gave your hands a task other than nervously tapping on something. Kathy didn’t specify what kind of club she was in, but she was always friendly and outgoing so you really had no idea what to expect, going in blind. When she made a comment about your choice of heels for the environment, you raised a brow, offering to run back inside to change. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she had said as she grinned at you from behind the wheel. “I think the club is goin’ ta love you.”

Standing here now . . . you would have never guessed this was the kind of club she was a part of. Sure, you noticed how her clothing changed some and she smoked a lot more, but seeing her interact with these bikers was shocking. She was like a different person. No, not different. She was still the same Kathy you had been friends with since 8th grade. She was just more confident now.

“Hey, who’s your new friend, Kathy?” someone called from your left. You glanced over at the many sets of hungry eyes that raked over your body as if they were a pack of wild dogs and you were a small rabbit. Your eyes widened as you looked to your other side to find a crowd gathered there too. “Introduce me to your little friend.”

“Fuck off, Richie,” Kathy called out nonchalantly, not even sparing them a look. You quickened your pace to be right on her heels, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the possibility of being left alone to these people.

“Kathy, I–I don’t think I should be here,” you whispered but if she heard your words, she ignored them. “When you said club, I was expecting a–a book club or something. . .”

“Don’t be silly.” She glanced at you over her shoulder, a smirk capturing her features. “I didn’t think I belonged neither, but look at me now. ’Sides, this club is way more fun than books, trust me.”

Before you could protest anymore, she led you to a table and you nearly collided into her when she stopped abruptly, your eyes still jumping around to the leather jackets and grime covered faces. You move to stand beside her, attempting to grab her arm and signal that you wanted to leave but she didn’t meet your gaze. Instead, she pointed a finger at the man sitting in the middle, legs spread leisurely, cigarette hanging from his mouth. 

“This is Johnny, he runs this club,” she introduced, moving along down the line. “That’s Brucie and his wife Gail. This big dumb idiot is Cockroach.” He throws a beer cap at her but she ducks out of the way. “That’s Cal and Corky behind them. . .”

With each member she introduced, you felt your courage sinking further and further into the ground. They each (including the woman) had an air of intimidation that screamed don’t fuck with me. Their leather jackets and ripped jeans hardened their appearances and you felt extremely out of place with your perfectly curled hair and manicured nails. They looked like people your parents had warned you to stay away from your entire youth. Growing up with difficulty making friends has left you somewhat naive and you’d never been around a crowd like this.  Yet suddenly, here you were, a helpless gazelle tossed directly into the lion’s den. Your heart pounded in your chest and you’re sure every person here can hear it echoing off the metal bikes surrounding you. 

“. . . and that’s Benny,” she finished and nodded in the direction of the person on the furthest left. Your eyes travelled up his long legs which are stretched out over the seat, up to where he’s sitting on the table. Your gaze lingered for a moment over the cigarette smoke pluming from between his lips before finally locking with his, and it took your breath away. It was like all the boys you had ever known in life, the ones you had been out on boring dates with, were just that – boys. This was a man. That was evident in his furrowed brow, his dark and unreadable expression, the way his piercing gaze moved from your face down to your toes and back up again. Trouble, his aura screamed, run far away from me. And you desperately want to grab Kathy’s arm and beg her to take you home, but she’s already moved away, making her way over to a cooler of beers, leaving you standing before them like an offering. You think maybe she had asked you if you wanted one before she left, but it’s hard to hear anything over the pounding of your heart in your ears, and even harder to focus on anything besides not breaking the intense eye contact the blonde in front of you was maintaining. 

“Whatcha got there?” someone from the table in front of you asked and you blinked, snapping back into the present. 

Benny had never seen anything like you. He watched from his seat atop the table as you blinked down at your pink Tupperware bowl. You looked like a doll freshly plucked straight from the box, every hair perfectly in place and not a speck on your pretty dress. The thought of running his hand up your thigh and dipping beneath the hem of that pristine dress, leaving a smudged trail of grease along your clean skin corrupted his mind, setting his teeth on edge with desire. The sun was just beginning to set over your left shoulder casted you in a warm glow that seemed almost ethereal, a picture of innocence and unspoiled charm. Your eyes, almost comically wide, glanced back up to him only for a second before moving to the others to find the owner of that previous question.

“Cookies,” you said so softly that Benny could barely hear you from where he was. And he knew then and there that he was a goner. 

The familiar pop of a motorcycle backfiring echoed through the air and you practically jumped out of your skin at the sound. You were just a little bunny, he mused, a smirk pulling at his lips. In one smooth motion, he pushed himself off the table, flicking the rest of his cigarette butt to the ground and stood to his full height. Driven by a fervor burning deep in his belly, it only took him a few strides before he stood in front of you, close enough to smell the sweet perfume you were wearing, close enough to see the blush tinting your face, close enough to touch you.

“What kind of cookies?” he asked in a low voice, hoping not to scare away this little bunny.

You glanced over your shoulder towards the parked cars and, for a moment, Benny thought you might try to book it, but then you moved your chin back and suddenly you were gracing him with your beautiful gaze again. He noticed the slight tremble of your slim fingers as they removed the lid and held the bowl out in an offer. In that moment, the air seemed to crackle with an unspoken connection, a promise of worlds colliding. No, he’d never seen anything like you.

“They’re chocolate chip,” you replied, eyes fluttering to the middle of his chest to avoid eye-contact. 

He lifted a hand slowly, dipping his head in an attempt to catch your eyes once more. He waited patiently until your gaze fluttered back up to meet his before he raised a brow in question. You gave just the slightest nod, and he dipped his hand into the bowl, retrieving one of your cookies.

You were locked into place, knees weak and head swimming as you watched him bring your cookie up to his lips. You wanted to look away, hell, you wanted to run away. But you couldn’t. You were drowning in his ocean eyes, unable to breathe as he bit into the cookie. Your gaze dropped briefly to his mouth as he swiped at it with the back on his hand, the muscles of his forearm flexing beneath tanned skin.

“Take her for a ride, Benny!” someone shouted from behind him and you suddenly remembered the rest of the group.

“Show her how to ride, Benny!” More egging. You took a hesitant step back, holding the bowl to your chest as if it would somehow deflect their teasing. You peeked around Benny trying to get Kathy’s attention, but she’s already sat down at another table, conversing with a small group of women. The women looked just as mean and tough as the men and you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. You take another step backwards. This was a mistake. You should have never come here. You needed to go home. These people – these animals – would eat you alive. The idea of just walking home crossed your mind briefly. But you were miles from your house, and you weren’t exactly sure where you even were – some farmhouse out on the other side of town. You needed to get Kathy aside to ask her to drive you home. 

“You ever been on a motorcycle before, Little Bunny?” Benny asked you, his voice hushed and almost drowned out by the razzing from behind him.

Your brow furrowed at the nickname. Was he making fun of you? Daring to look into his ruggedly handsome face again, you attempted to read his expression for any signs of malice. Surprised to find something kind swirling in his eyes, your lips parted to say something, but the words were stuck in your throat. “Mm-mm,”

He flashed a glimpse of his white teeth with a secretive smile as he took a step closer. “Can I be your first?”

“What?” Suddenly your mouth felt as though it were filled with cotton. 

He nodded over at the lineup of motorcycles to your left and waited for his question to fully sink in. You tilted your head, wondering if the double inuendo was intentional or if everything that came out of his mouth dripped with an underlying sensuality.

Trouble, trouble, trouble. That word rang out in your head like a siren, attempting to warn you and that’s when you realized that there wasn’t an ocean in his eyes. It was a blazing fire. There was a fire in his eyes and it threatened to burn every complacently comfortable thing inside you, threatened to burn every perfectly built wall surrounding your heart. 

You shook your head. “No, thank you. I don’t like going fast and I know that’s what you . . . bikers do.”

Was that a polite response? You weren’t sure because the smile on his face grew despite the fact that you just declined his offer. Any time you’ve ever rejected a man’s offer, they’d frown, grumble under their breath and walk away. But this man — Benny— just stood there, sliding his hands in the pockets of his jean jacket, tilting his head slightly as he stared down at you with a smile. He was confusing!

“Excuse me,” you muttered as you sidestepped him, quickly approaching the picnic bench Kathy had migrated to. Your cheeks burned as a few members of the crowd whistled. You set the Tupperware bowl on the table and several hands dipped in to retrieve the goods as you planted yourself next to Kathy. 

“Is this a gang?” You whispered to your friend and she laughed into her beer bottle. Since when did she drink beer?

“Gee, that Benny sure is a hunk, huh?” She deflected your question as she raised an eyebrow at you suggestively. 

Feeling his gaze still burning into you, you didn’t risk a glance back at him. “I don’t feel comfortable here, Kathy.”

“Do you want a beer?” She asked as she placed a cold one in front of you. 

“No,” you replied quietly. “Can we go now?”

She sighed. “Alright, fine. Can I finish my beer at least?”

You nodded but your relief was short lived when another biker woman sat down from across Kathy and began talking with her. Agonizing minutes ticked by. You drummed your fingers on the worn wooden table top, watching as Kathy sipped leisurely from her beer. Someone shouted as the racing bikes fired up, startling you. That’s it. 

“I’ll wait for you in the car,” you told Kathy and ignored the disappointment on her face as you stood and spun. You halted in your tracks when you find Benny still standing where you left him, still watching you. You kept your head down as you walked past him quickly making your way to the car. 

Weaving in between other cars and motorcycles parked in the far field, you breathed a sigh of relief when you made it to Kathy’s car. Once sitting inside the passenger seat of her pickup truck, you slammed the door shut behind you. Embarrassment burned your core and you groaned as you brought your hands up to cover your face. They probably thought you were some niave girl who was afraid of her own shadow. And you probably were but you clung to the slight relief that you would never have to see any of these people ever again. 

You jumped at the knock on your window. A tall figure stood outside your door and your heart jumped into your throat as you scrambled to roll down the manual window. Benny stooped over and held up your pink Tupperware bowl. 

“You left this.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “I’d say they were a hit.”

You glanced down at the empty bowl in shock. You had baked two dozen cookies and they were gone within minutes of leaving it on the table. A smile tugged at your lips at the thought of someone appreciating your hard work. “Thank you.”

You reached for the bowl, fingers brushing softly against his. A jolt of electricity traveled up your arm, through your chest before settling hotly in your lower belly. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as he lowered himself to lean against your door, arms resting over the window frame. His eyes roamed over your face as if he were trying to memorize every detail. Your mind struggled to find something to say to him to get him to go away but all thoughts were halted in their tracks as his eyes found yours again. Instinctively, you felt yourself leaning in a little closer to him, your faces only inches apart. 

“Can I at least give you a ride home?” His gravely voice broke through the thick silence. 

“Kathy is—” you started as you glanced over his shoulder to the direction of where you left your friend. Your words died on your tongue as you noticed her surrounded by a small group now, a fresh beer in her hand. 

Your gaze returned to him and you felt heat creep up your neck. “I—I’m wearing a dress though. . .”

“I’ll be sitting in front of you. Nobody will be able to see anything.” 

You fixed him with an incredulous expression before looking away. Silence settled between you again and you waited for him to walk away. Only, he never did. He just . . . waited.

"Are you just going to keep asking?" you griped as you turned to look back at him.

"I like to think of it as more of an offer." There was a teasing undertone laced in his words and you narrowed your eyes at him to keep from smiling.

“I won’t drive fast,” he said softly and your heart fluttered at the gentle promise. 

Trouble. Your head still reminded you even as you found yourself getting hypnotized by the intense blue of his eyes, so close to yours. Despite the sincerity in his eyes, there was still that darkness, that fire that burned through. That burning fire, threatening to cover a dark past. And you could see it, there was a dangerous undertone in that fire. Trouble, and yet you couldn’t hide the smile as your fingers reached to open the door. 

This fire you needed to touch — at least once, just to see how hot it truly burned. 

[johnwickb1tsch]

Everyone is sending GIF requests, so, here is mine. Hint: Jealous John? (Though I doubt this man can ever be jealous but...whatever comes to your genius brain)

Thanks!

@sweetwolfcupcake SWEEETS!!!!! I loved this prompt SO MUCH!!! You're such a genius. *kisses your head* I hope you like this! 💗💗💗

Bodyguard!John Wick x Shy!Curvy!Fem!Student!Reader

⚠warnings: threat of noncon (not John), mention of parental death

For the record, you didn’t mean to fall in love with John Wick. But he was nothing like the other goons your father had tasked with guarding you before.  Wick was tall, and handsome, and had the soulful eyes of a poet. You know he’s dangerous; he can kill a man 30 ways with a pencil (the men of your father’s Bratva will not shut up about it) but he seems so…gentle. And the thing that really proved your undoing?

That good looking bastard was bookish, and it did something inconceivable to your lit major brain. Ever your dark shadow, you spent countless late nights in the library together, and so many Saturday afternoons browsing the used bookshops, combing for treasures. He would rescue the books that looked better fit for the waste bin, taking them to repair. Maybe he was there to protect you, for your father had many unsavory enemies, but it was easy to forget when John discussed with you the finer points of the Bloomsbury Set or the themes of Anna Karenina.  

Maybe your father assigned John to you because he was one of the few gangsters around in his brigata one could trust to guard a relatively innocent young lady–that didn’t mean John was safe from you. You just couldn’t help yourself; you’d like to plead insanity, your honor, the night you finally broke and tried to kiss him, while he was helping you with your homework for Russian Lit 301. 

How stupid you felt, how utterly pathetic, when he’d very kindly dislodged you from his so soft mouth, looking at you with pity in his sad dark eyes. “You know…we can’t do this,” he told you.

Mortified, you’d fled to your room and cried, knowing you are the most ridiculous human being on the face of the earth.

What were you thinking?

You are nothing like the tall, ethereal creatures that populate the clubs where Wick frequents with your father. You are shy, and curvy, and frankly…a nerd. An old soul, your father would say fondly, but you know he is just being kind.

You’re not sure how you got it into your head, that you were going to make Wick sorry. You’ve never been one for going out, but you decide to give it a whirl, wanting to be anyone but yourself. You decide to go to the Red Circle, to hang out with the other Bratva brats who care way more about clubbing and clothes and who’s fucking who, than classes at NYU. 

At first you really hate it–but after a few shots of vodka, it’s not so bad. John has to hang back, keeping an eye on you but not interacting with your friends. He’s scary good at lurking in the shadows, but you know he’s keeping an eye on every move you make. Maybe that’s why you let Alexsei kiss you, the son of a semi-friendly loan shark who works in proximity with your father. You don’t really like him, if you’re being honest. But he’s not totally hideous–and he’s there–and John will have to watch it all. 

You and Alex start to have a thing. It’s no big deal. Something to do, on the summer break from your studies. You invite him over to watch a movie, knowing you’ll have the house to yourself. Your father is always at his office doing business, your idiotic brother is always out getting into trouble with his khuligan friends, and your mother…is dead, God rest her poor soul. 

You can tell Alex is a little drunk, when he shows up at your door. He’s very handsy, when you settle in on the couch to watch the latest mindless action flick, his pick. It’s ok, until he tries to unbutton your pants.

You have a secret. 

You’re 21, nearly graduated from university–and you’re still a virgin. 

This is not a thing you intend to give to Alexsei Plushenko. You don’t even really like the way he touches you.

“Stop, Alex.”

“Don’t be scared,” he tries to coax you. “This will be fun.”

“No,” you say. “Let’s just…”

He covers your mouth with his, shutting you up, his heavy body pinning you on the couch. “Don’t be such a stuck up bitch.” His groping fingers squeeze your breast clumsily, painfully, before fumbling with your jeans again. You try to push him off, but he’s heavy, and strong.

Suddenly, he is yanked from you like he weighs nothing at all. You hardly recognize what is happening at first, until you hear the sound of flesh striking flesh. John is on him, his iron fist meeting the younger man’s face. 

“John! Stop!” 

Wick looks up at you, meeting your eyes in a primal lock of stares–your heart drops and soars again, as you feel as though you’ve stumbled on a wolf over his kill, and the wildest thing?

You get the inkling that wolf is jealous. 

“Don’t hurt him anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. A beating will make some complications for your father. A death? Could mean war.

Wick punches the handsy young man one more time, his eyes never leaving yours, before hauling Alex up by the collar and frog marching him out the front door, tossing him down the concrete steps of your home.

John finds you waiting for him in the marble foyer, his eyes wild, his knuckles torn. You don’t even know what to say. 

“What did you even see in him?” he finally demands, clearly annoyed.

“He wasn’t you,” you answer without thinking.

Wick steps up to you, toe to toe, so that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. His hair has broken free from its slicked back style, tendrils in his eyes.

He’s never looked more beautiful, your savage savior.

“You’re trying to get me killed.”

You shake your head, the very thought anathema to you. You are transfixed, unable to look away, unable to think. “You’re too precious to me,” you admit, and screw your eyes shut the moment you admit it, a spear of mortification piercing you from your heart to your stupid, aching, cunt.

“Milaya…” 

It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to you.

Your eyes drop to his knuckles, torn open in his defense of you. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Not to me.” You don’t know where you get the courage, to take his hand, and lead him up to your room. You can hardly believe it, that he actually follows you. In your ensuite bathroom you dab at his knuckles with a washcloth, slather him with ointment and plaster him with bandaids. You run out of sober flesh colored ones, so the last cut gets a Disney bandage, Ariel and sea-flowers decorating this severe man’s knuckles. 

He lets you do all this, watching you intensely with those dark eyes you’re certain can see into your soul. You stand too close–and he lets you, this haunted man who watches over you day and night. Your whole life you have never wanted for anything, your father’s money buying you all your heart could possibly desire.

Until now.

You find it hard to meet his eyes, zeroing in on a spot of blood on his stark white dress shirt. 

“Y/n.” With a gentle knuckle under your chin he turns your gaze up to his again. “You are too smart, and too beautiful, to be wasting your time with a fuckboy like Alexsei Plushenko.”

The first part you already knew. The second, from this man’s lips? Your knees nearly collapse out from under you, a flood of excitement and dread coursing through your system. You almost can’t stand it–it’s like being burned alive, and your native shyness rears with a vengeance. 

You try to flee, back to the safety of your room, and your books, your imaginary lives that can’t really hurt you–but he catches your hand. His grip is not hard, but it is enough to stop you dead in your tracks. 

“Y/n…” He’s pleading with you, but you don’t understand what he’s asking you. 

“You said you don’t want me, John…” you say, still unable to meet his eyes. “So let me go.” 

He answers by pulling you against him, the solid line of his torso a brick wall beneath the hand you raise to catch yourself. But bricks are not warm, like the flesh beneath his designer clothes. You can feel the wires in your brain sizzling, the synapses simply melting down. Your heart is Chernoble waiting to happen. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You said–”

“I said, ‘We can’t.’ Not, that ‘I don’t want you.’”

You almost cannot breathe, your heart attempting to beat out of your chest, a ringing in your ears that drowns out all else. There is nothing, nothing, in this world you’ve wanted more, than to hear those words from this man. But now that he’s standing before you, against you, holding you–you cannot move. You do not know what to do. 

He solves this problem by cupping your cheek in his big hand–God, how you’ve noticed those hands–and then he is pressing his mouth to yours, gentle at first, but then…hungry. As though John Wick has been starving, for you, and it’s all you can do just to stand there and take it without melting into a puddle on the floor. His arms wrap around your back, holding you, lifting you to your tiptoes as he devours you. When at last he pulls back you are left seeing stars, struck utterly speechless with your hands on his broad shoulders. 

“Tell me to stop,” he raggedly demands, his eyes boring down into yours. 

Finally, you find your courage, meeting his stare. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper. 

“Good. Because I don’t think I can.” He kisses you again, just as hungrily as the first time, his arm an iron band around your waist and his fingers sneaking up into your hair. That’s your kryptonite: your hair, and blithely you know he can do anything and everything he wants to you now.  

Your father is a bad man, but you have not had a bad life. You have never known hunger, or true physical pain. He has protected you from the violence of his world. He has played things smart enough that not even the FBI can touch you, even though they absolutely know what he is and where your family gets its money. Despite all this, you have been dying inside, a slow, withering demise, until John Wick’s lips touched yours. He is the life-giving rain over the desert; your heart is a field of wildflowers erupting in a superbloom. 

This time, he leads you, in between kissing you, to the loveseat at the foot of your bed. He sits, and only when he tries to pull you into his lap do you resist. “John…I’m too…much,” you insist, conscious of your generous flesh and what it would be like to set that on top of him, afraid he’ll be horrified. 

However, he just scoffs at you, grabbing you up anyway and guiding you down. For a moment you are weightless–he knows how to upset a person’s balance, how to use their weight against them to put them on the floor. This time he uses it to put you on him. You’re not exactly proud of it, but the ease with which he utterly manhandles you makes your long-neglected lady parts sing with desire. 

“You are perfect, dietka,” he insists, pulling you closer with hands on your round behind, “And I am very strong.” For the first time in you can’t remember how long–he smiles at you. That beautiful half smile with a sparkle in his dark eyes that takes your breath away–you love him so much it hurts. 

This time you don’t feel so shy, about kissing him. You feel like your bones are filled with butterflies, and you both moan and giggle as you do your best to devour each other from the mouth down. Aside from an appreciative squeeze of your thighs bracketing his hips, he doesn’t try to seduce you, even though you know you absolutely would have given him anything he asked you for. He is content, just to kiss you, for this night at least, and oh. He’s good at it too. 

You decide you would burn down the world, for one more kiss from John Wick.  

Later you find yourself snuggled in your bed with John, fully clothed, your head on his shoulder as he toys with the fine hairs at the back of your neck. His touch is heaven, and with your legs twined with his it’s hard not to squirm and writhe against his muscled thigh like a horny little gremlin. 

Later, you tell yourself. It can wait for later. 

Like maybe, tomorrow. 

��We’ll have to be careful,” he warns you. “If your father…” 

If your father found out, the best thing that could happen to John is getting fired. 

“I won’t let you get hurt,” you promise, kissing his bearded cheek, praying you’re telling the truth.

He chuckles at this; a deep sound you feel more than hear. “I thought that was my job?”

“You know what I mean.” 

“I know.” He looks down at you with a tenderness that curls your toes. “It would be worth it, for you.” 

Your heart has suddenly decided it would like to take up residence in your throat–permanently.

“Oh, John…”  

He kisses you again, a soft brush of lips that renders you weightless. This is how you die: it’s almost too much to stand, this impossibly full feeling in your chest. Then he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You have been driving me mad, you little minx. I wanted to kill everyone who so much as looked at you in the Circle.” 

You snort at the thought–you do not understand, really, that he could absolutely do it too. 

“Not to worry. I think the library is more my speed.” He rests his head against yours with a small, contented sigh. “Mine too,” he admits. The smell of old books around you is a soothing balm to you both. 

You know small bits of his past. Morsels he has sprinkled, here and there in the conversations you have had. You know he did not have an easy childhood. You know that this life was not really his choice. Even less so than most, who move and work in the Underworld. 

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” you ask. 

He lifts an eyebrow at you. “I’m liking New York, at the moment,” he tells you with an affectionate squeeze. 

“Oh come on.” 

“Fine. I like Paris a lot.” 

“Hmm,” you answer, but what you think, is: Done.  You will have the opportunity to arrange to study abroad soon, and you think a trip away from the Tarasov territory might do you both some good.

Surely Papachka wouldn’t deprive you of your most trusted bodyguard?

[raisedbythetv89]

The writers I think mostly completely by accident with the assistance of James charming his way into becoming a main character created the perfect storm to ensure people who love spike would reach absolute peak levels of being completely obsessively deranged about him forever

Season 2:

He’s a punk rock villain with killer cheekbones, enchanting eyes, and an absolutely DEVILISH smile - who’s an incredibly dedicated and dangerous fighter who specifically seeks out challenging fights he’s not guaranteed to win (brave and reckless - normally traits seen in heroes) hates everyone except his mentally ill physically sick wife (the statistics of men who leave their wives when they get sick in the US is horrifying like nurses literally have to warn married women who get sick it happens so often) who he’s hopelessly devoted to and unbelievably soft with and always listens to her while also exuding a psychotic amount of sex appeal and is just F U N he loves being a vampire and he loves fighting and it makes it so much fun for the audience. While still showing how much he respects and admires his enemy for her skill, strength, resourcefulness, and intelligence - NEVER underestimating her just because she’s a tiny blonde girl - and instead of destroying the world for love he SAVES the world for love - a villain doing good to get the love of his life back who essentially dumped him for her ex????????? D E V O T E D and shockingly extremely trustworthy??? And has amazing chemistry with our heroine and is there for a pivotal moment in her life and is the only one there for her when she has no one else????? *enemies to lovers girlies ENTER THE CHAT*

Season 3:

He shows he fucking MEANS IT when he says Dru is the love of his life when he shows up in Sunnydale because he blames Angel not Buffy or Drusilla but the man actually responsible for all their problems and he is the most pathetic mess we’ve ever SEEN!!!! He’s crying and drunk all the time and he’s so sad he goes to Buffy’s mom TO TALK 💀😭 our pathetic sensitive little self admitted lover boy who KNOWS he’s love’s bitch and he won’t be pretending he’s anything otherwise who shows how clearly he sees and understands other people and the depths of his emotional intelligence so much so Buffy herself admits she can’t fool Spike she can fool her friends BUT NOT SPIKE OR HERSELF EXCUSE ME MA’AM WHAT???????

AND Spike doesn’t just uselessly MOPE forever he gets some perspective and is like I know what I’m gonna do to her back and I’m gonna go do that now! 😁👍🏻 showing he never stays down for long and is always gonna get back up to keep fighting for his love while BOTH he and Buffy still honor the truce even though he’s broken it by coming back??? While Buffy’s all “I violently dislike you” YEAH OK GIRL WHATEVER YOU SAY *enemies to lovers girlies chomping at the bit intensifies*

Season 4:

CLEARLY heartbroken about Drusilla (DEVOTED!!!) but it’s turned into anger and resentment directed at Harmony who how bizarre looks nothing like Drusilla but A LOT like Buffy…… hmmmmmmmmmmmmm HOW INTERESTING *enemies to lovers girlies are vibrating with anticipation that turns into a full blown combustion when something blue happens*

Spike doesn’t pretend to love Harmony in order to get what he wants from her (shown in direct contrast to Parker) he’s ironically very honest despite being a villain - he’s showing he’s STILL loyal to Drusilla in ONLY loving her even after she’s dumped him... again!

We see Spike treat Buffy the EXACT same way he treated Drusilla during something blue reaffirming THIS IS HOW THIS MAN LOVES WHEN HE LOVES YOU. He’s extremely affectionate, helpful, protective, caring - D E V O T E D - and is truly just the most certified lover boy we’ve ever fucking seen

Season 5:

SURPRISE HE’S SECRETLY A LOVESICK MAMA’S BOY POET AT HEART UNDERNEATH THE BAD BOY PERSONA AND A PROTECTIVE BIG BROTHER AND NOW BUFFY AND HER FAMILY’S MOST LOYAL DEFENDER AND IS WILLING TO DIE NOT JUST FOR BUFFY BUT FOR ALL THE SUMMERS WOMEN AND HE KNOWS AND SEES BUFFY SO DEEPLY AND INTIMATELY AND CAN HOLD SPACE FOR HER PAIN LIKE NO ON ELSE CAN AND SHOWS THE DEVOTION THAT ONCE BELONGED TO DRUSILLA NOW BELONGS TO BUFFY AND IT IS GOING NOWHERE EVEN WHEN SHE DIES AND WE'VE SEEN IN HIM CRY BEFORE BUT NEVER HAVE WE SEEN HIM BREAK DOWN LIKE HE DOES AT THE SIGHT OF BUFFY'S BODY!!!!!!!!!!!

*all of us screaming, crying, throwing up, climbing the walls and generally just losing our minds*

Season 6:

No soul, his love is so great for Buffy as is his loyalty and devotion to her, he now helps all of his dead love’s friends fight evil and is raising her sister and dreams of saving her every night for 148 nights 🤚🏻😭 don’t even fucking talk to me I can’t take it

Forgive the absolute 180 in tone change here:

Dick game is FIRE - his touch is the only thing that makes Buffy feel alive AND SHE WAS IN HEAVEN BRO SHE KNOWS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE IN HEAVEN AND SPIKE IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING HER GOING like damn girl yes YOU FUCK THAT HOUSE DOWN!!! Also he is now just naked 50% of the time just to drive us all even FURTHER out of our minds and somehow has just gotten even hotter as the seasons have gone on like this is what’s been hiding under the leather jacket all this time! Enjoy!

And THE MOST unintended consequence of jw’s vindictive writing:

SPITE

He clearly didn’t want us to love Spike and tried to manipulate us into hating him in such a blatant and clumsy ooc attempt all that did was weed out the weakest amongst the Spuffy/Spike fans until all that remained were us:

The most devoted and stubborn fans who REFUSED to have the thing they loved ruined or taken away from us and were smart enough to see through his bullshit manipulation attempt in the first place.

Genuinely they created the equivalent of supersoilder strength level fans with this absolutely lethal combination of events 💀

AND THEN as if all that wasn't enough he goes and gets his soul on purpose for Buffy so he can be the man she deserves and she can love him without hating herself for loving him despite the immense pain it will cause him which is the most selfless thing we have ever seen anyone do for Buffy only to be topped when he sacrifices himself to destroy the hellmouth, save the world and free her from Sunnydale!!! Plus ya know once he gets the soul even though he did it for her he never tries to use that as leverage to get anything from her like he truly expects nothing from her at all but still wants to help her and James delivers the most devastating performances we've ever fucking seen, finally tells her friends off which has needed to happen for 5 seasons, the "you're the one speech" him being a dad to all the potentials with Buffy giving us supernatural parent core who made it through their rough patch with their first kid in season 6 with Dawn and now are just the beautiful team with their found family and Buffy finally has someone who can truly carry her burdens with her and just all the tenderness and devotion they both deserve after so many years of pain and fighting. Basically giving the audience the message that even if you have a metric ton of pain and trauma there are people out there who see you and understand you and there is a chance for you to heal both together and separately to build your own version of a more normal and stable life. It's a message of such hope and I personally know several people, including myself who watched what Spike and Buffy have and it inspired us to look at the relationships we were in and realize we deserved SO MUCH MORE than what we were getting and in my case it turned out I was being emotionally abused and manipulated that entire time!! Much like Buffy was by both Riley and Angel. So it isn't an exaggeration to say Spuffy saved my life in a lot of ways both in being there for me at such a dark time and helping me draw a map of how to get out. Not to mention loving them in fandom spaces has helped me connect with so many people just like me who share very similar experiences and have helped me feel so much less alone and has helped me heal in so many ways 🖤

Spuffies get "hOw cAn yOu liKe sPiKe aFtEr wHaT hE dId" all the fucking time and truly the better question is how can you NOT like Spike???? HAVE YOU BEEN PAYING ATTENTION AT ALL??? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT GOOD RELATIONSHIPS NEED TO WORK?? BECAUSE AT THEIR CORE SPUFFY HAS THEM ALL!

It's jw writing so NOTHING will escape his toxic bullshit but Spike - because he was hated by jw for so long - so much of the time when he tried to make Spike less popular he just kept making him better and more complex and more and more targeted to the female gaze which is exactly why he snapped and made the choices he literally forced everyone else to go along with despite their protests with that scene to make it the most traumatizing scene in all of Buffy history not just for the audience but for the actors as well because yes it is incredibly horrific and upsetting to watch (which is why I skip it on rewatches) but I still am able to see if for what it is which is a narcissist lashing out at people he hates because he hasn't been able to control them and too bad for him I refuse to be manipulated by his bullshit so it failed completely and made so many of us that much more stubbornly protective of Spike and his and Buffy's relationship not just from other fans but from the creator himself 🙃🖕🏻like he basically just trauma bonded us to Spike and Buffy which has led to the creation of one of the most devoted, loyal, intelligent fanbases who is absolutely unhinged (affectionate) with their love of this character and his relationship which is why we are all still creating and writing about this character 25 year later and show absolutely zero signs of slowing down or stopping 💀

[tntduopolls]

complain aaaalll you want you little shits, you will be getting difficult choices and many of them and your pathetic little fingers will quiver as you sacrifice your dignity to pick the lesser of two evils, you know why????

BECAUSE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS CHOSE TO MAKE HIM A FUCKING BRIT!!!!

I am manifesting foul plagues upon each and every one of you scoundrels who saw a charcuterie board of options and chose British.

I mean honestly, BRITISH?????

order may, MAY perhaps be restored once I feel satisfied that you lot have the dignity to choose wisely. you have been warned.

[loversatthegreatdivide]

Heavy Lies the Heart - Chapter 8

Masterlist

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!OC Word Count: 2k Tropes: mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, royalty Warnings: death Summary: When two second-borns looking for direction meet by chance, can they find purpose in each other? Or will circumstances keep them apart? A/N: I'm going to be real with you guys--this chapter was just for me. It's disgusting, cheesy, romantic nonsense and I absolutely love it. I hope you do too. :)

Writing an amateur poet's love letter was so ridiculous and fun, but I also may have f'ed myself up a little bit. Save me pathetic, handsome, unabashedly romantic gentleman who respects me as a human being with deep thoughts and valued feelings but also compares my eyes to flaked amber in the sunlight and treats me gently like a beautiful flower laid softly on the shrine of a solitary goddess...you're my only hope.

My dearest Beatrice,

These nights we have spent apart have been perhaps the longest of my life.

I had not realized just how completely you had made yourself at home in my heart until you were no longer here with me. I look to the space you have carved in my soul, and I find it empty. You have gone, and taken a piece of me with you.

At night I sit in the windowsill searching the streets below, desperate to see any sign of you waiting there for me. I pray for just a glimpse of your shrouded form, bathed in the silver light of the moon. As I wait, I know I would have forever been happy to be your Leander, swimming across the sea each night, guided by your light.

I have found my days as listless as my nights, waiting to hear any mention of your name. I dread what news time may bring, yet cannot stop myself from wishing the hours to pass as minutes. Time may yet be my enemy, but it still remains the one bridge that leads me to you.

I hope you are well my darling. I see an image of you sat alone with your worries, and it haunts my every thought. I hope to find some relief in the knowledge that my family will be with you soon, even if I cannot be. I hope your brief time with them will bring some measure of comfort to you, as they have comforted me.

When my mother and sisters return, I pray they bring good news. But know that no matter what, my feelings will not waiver. I am willing to stand steadfast against any tide we may yet face, so long as it is your wish to stand alongside me.

I worry now that perhaps my lack of interest in the movements of the aristocracy may have translated poorly. You must know that my distaste for their grandstanding, their rigid adherence to proprietary, and their many pointless rules means nothing in the face of my feelings for you. So now I shall be clear, so that there can be no misunderstandings between us.

I love you Beatrice. I will love you for as long as you will have me, and then one hundred lifetimes more.

Yours eternally,

Benedict

---

Beatrice sat in her nightdress, curled up in the armchair nearest the windows of her room. She clutched Benedict's letter close to her chest as she gazed out across the moonlit garden. It looked so similar to the place where she and Benedict had first met. It was not so long ago, yet it felt like a lifetime had past since then.

She turned her attention back to the letter. In the dim candlelight it was difficult to make out his flourished words, but that hardly mattered. Beatrice had read it so many times already that she could all but recite it word for word. She ran her fingers over the last line, smiling as she thought of the man that had written it.

I love you.

She wrapped her arms around her legs, pressing her forehead io her knees as she blushed. She could hardly contain the emotions that threatened to burst forth from her chest. Even having read it dozens of times, she could hardly believe it was real. And so she read it once more, then again, only to make sure she was not dreaming.

The feelings between them had always been clear. She did not need words to know Benedict cared for her. But to have it articulated so beautifully? To have him decalre it so boldly? That was a different thing entirely. Perhaps it was best then that it was written and not spoken. If she had heard it first from his lips, she surely would have perished in an instant--her heart too overcome with feeling to possibly be contained.

Her letter expressed her worries and her desires. Now she almost felt foolish thinking of the words she had written, having believed his choice rushed. And perhaps, regretted. Still, they needed to be said all the same, and now she could rest soundly knowing she had not in some way entrapped him in a life he did not want.

She prayed they would be allowed to see each other soon, but resolved herself to do whatever she must if she was not. She would see him again, no matter what.

She sighed, taking one last look out into the night before readying herself for bed.

As she laid in the dark, Benedict's letter tucked safely under her pilllow, she smiled to herself. She drifted off to sleep, knowing she would have sweet dreams.

---

My Dearest Benedict,

I hope this letter finds you in comfort and good health.

I have wished desperately to visit you these past nights. I have longed to be near you, to see your face and to hear your voice. The thought of never seeing you again forever stalks my every days and nights.

We spoke so little about my deception before we were forced to part. I know you have assured me all is well, but even so I must beg your forgiveness just once more. It was a crime committed completely for my own selfish desires, and I made you my unwitting accomplice.

And while I cannot in good conscious condone my actions, nor can I condemn them. For if I had been honest from the start, I believe we would never have been able to grow to know each other so well. For that time we spent free of society's eyes and expectations, I will apologize, I will accept the consequences, but I will never regret.

I know you must be worried for what is to come. The truth of it is I do not know myself. There are many possibilities, all reliant on many choices made by many people who care very little for the hearts involved. Ultimately, it comes down to this: Will I be permitted to see you again and if so, will you wish to see me?

I have not forgotten what you said as we danced. That you were willing to openly pursue me in spite of my title and any trouble that may follow. I was glad to hear you say so, gladder still for you to show your resolve and declare your intentions to all with every dance we shared. But I ever worry I have put you in a difficult situation, where you made a choice in the heat and haste of a moment, and now feel you must continue to honor your word and protect my feelings.

It is the knowing you care for me, but yet surely not wanting the burdens that I will place upon you, that haunts me so. That you may one day wake to a feeling of resentment towards me for your confinement, and wish in vain for release. I know you to be a free soul my dearest, and you do not belong shakled to a crown. And so I wish to be clear that I would never disparage you, even if it should be that you choose to place your freedom first.

But if this is to be the time I lay bare all my truths, I shall do so in full and know for certain I have said all I wished to. Then, regardless of what outcome the future holds, I can live contented by the knowledge that I have spoken every wish that lives in my heart.

I love you, Benedict. I have loved you since the night we met, and I will continue loving you every night and every day that follows for the rest of our lives and beyond. Whatever choice is made, regardless of who makes it, know that my feelings for you will never change.

And while it is so that I would never blame you for chosing to live your life a free man, the truth is I desperately ache for you to instead choose to spend it locked away with me. Together in a prison made for two, with no direction or purpose other than to be forever by each other's side.

I find I am only filled with such selfish thoughts when I am with you, and so it is with such selfishness that I reveal my deepest wish. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, my love, forever and always until the day we die.

Yours always,

Beatrice

---

Benedict sat on the windowsill, reading over the letter held tightly in his hands.

While in his own letter he had chosen to make his feelings know beyond all doubt, he had not expected Beatrice would do the same. It is not that he questioned her love for him, but even so it made it no less of a shock to see it written so bodly in her own hand.

Benedict had of course been certain she shared his feelings, but Beatiece was by nature more reserved than others. Certainly more than he had ever been. Her feelings had never been uncertain, but even when they were alone it was clear that she held herself back.

Not that he minded, of course. He found her shyness enduring, and never considered her in any way insincere. Quite the opposite; he truly thought her to be the most genuine person he had ever met.

So it was not a surprise that Beatrice felt she had to be so forthcoming with her concerns for him.

That she had been so worried for him in spite of her own feelings was an unwelcome revelation. Benedict had never wanted her to feel pain over any aspect of their relationship. And that she knew his choice, but still wished to convey he was not bound by to it made his heart ache. He felt it all the more when he considered that she did so in direct opposition to her own feelings, all for his sake.

But then she had followed it all with such a bold declaration of her love. Whatever pain he held was lessened considerably by her uncharacteristicly assertive words. Despite her feelings of guilt for her actions and the weight she believed she had placed upon him, she still chose to make her wishes known.

Beatrice loved him, and she had made it clear she wanted his love in return.

Benedict was soothed then in the knowledge that she had received his letter. Whatever worry she had about his choice were surely dispelled the moment she read it. There could now be no doubt between them that they both desired the same thing.

He only hoped this separation would end soon, so that he might show her the depths of his resolve.

He loved her, and she loved him. Regardless of what choice was made by others, he had already made his decision.

Benedict smiled as he folded the letter gently, sliding it back into the safety of its envelope. He prayed, as always, that tomorrow would be the day he received the news he so desperately longed to hear. But if he must continue waiting for a word that he could see her again, he would do so safe in the knowledge that Beatrice now knew his true feelings. And that wherever she was, she was waiting for him too.

----------

Tags: @empressnatsume @sarahskywalker-amidala @may-and-lay @asterizee @g4ns3y @bubblegumcat229 @mhmoony @mmmunson @iamcailin08 @mads198-9

[starryevermore]

tis the damn season ✧ jamie tartt

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

summary: he won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask him to stay. so he’ll go back to london and the so-called friends who’ll write books about him, if he ever makes it, and wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles he’s faking. and the heart he knows he’s breaking is his own, to leave the warmest bed he’s ever known. 

word count: 4,850

warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, (badly written) smut, unprotected sex, pinv sex, angst, breaking up, pining, not proofread

Jamie Tartt was not the type of man to fall in love. He didn’t think he was capable of it. Something about his heart, maybe. Something about how his dad made him feel like love was a weakness. That if he ever opened himself up to a person like that, his dad would be disappointed, and where there came disappointment… If he was a poet, he could probably say it more eloquently. But Jamie Tartt was a far cry from a poet. The best he could say was that he couldn’t love—no matter what, no matter who. 

And maybe that’s why it stung, just a little bit, when his mum mentioned you. 

He had come back up to Manchester for the holidays—something he seldom did, in an effort to avoid his dad. But he missed home, he missed his mum. And, besides, it was the holidays. There were no games to be played. No training he had to attend. It was kind of sad to be at the bars and clubs on Christmas. What else was he to do besides go home? Was there anything left for him in London? So, he came and prayed that James Tartt would be nowhere to be found. 

He was lucky in that regard, but all luck runs out eventually. 

“I saw that girl you used to go to school with when I went to the shop yesterday,” Georgie said when Jamie came down for dinner. Jamie grabbed one of the rolls Simon made, scarfing it down before grabbing a second. He watched his mum as he chewed, wondering where she was going with this. “Oh, what’s her name? The one who always had her nose in a book? You remember, the girl you always followed around like a puppy.”

Oh, Jamie remembered you. He remembered you quite well. You were his first actual girlfriend, back before he became a famous footballer. You didn’t care much for football, or the fact that Jamie’s right foot had been kissed by God and that he was well on his way of making a career out of the only thing he cared for. Well, okay, you did care about him achieving his dreams (had they been his dreams? or had all of it been something his father pushed on him? fuck—this is why he doesn’t come home for the holidays. it makes him think too much). But you cared more about him. You cared about how rocky road was his favorite ice cream flavor. You cared about how Disney movies were his favorite—and not the newer shit, the classic stuff. You cared about how he liked to be held and have his hair played with. You cared about how Jamie would try to read the books you loved just to try to understand you more. You cared, and he couldn’t, and that’s why it ended. 

He muttered your name before shoveling another forkful of food into his mouth. 

“That’s right! Sweet girl, she is, you know? Anyway, apparently she’s opened up this cute little book shop.”

“Why’re you telling me about this?” Jamie asked, mid-way through chewing his food. Simon gave him a disapproving look. Simon only looked disapproving when Jamie forgot his manners. But why should he give a fuck about manners? He was signed by Man City! He was such a good footballer that he got loaned out to Richmond to help their pathetic asses! Jamie Tartt could be a complete and utter prick, and nothing would ever go wrong. He could have anything, anyone he wanted. (Except, maybe, you.) 

“I stopped in the other day, during the big grand opening,” Georgie continued. “It was such a wonderful event. She even made cookies! You remember them? Those little peanut butter things that you would always beg for? Oh, Simon might have cracked the code on the recipe!” She nudged Simon with her elbow. “‘Course, he could always just ask for the recipe. I’m sure she would be happy to give it. But he has to do everything himself!”

Jamie stared at his mum. She would get to her point eventually. No need in him saying anything until she reached it. 

“Anyways, she was asking about you. Said she hoped you were doing well. I told her you were, that you were doing well at Richmond. But I think you should stop by her shop. It would be nice to see her, wouldn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I guess. Don’t really talk to her anymore, y’know? Haven’t for years. Be kinda weird to show up now.”

“Just think about it, okay? I think she’d be happy to see you.”

He shrugged, again. If Jamie was honest with himself, he would agree it would be nice to see you. But…Well, the last time he saw you, he hadn’t exactly left on good terms. 

Six Years Ago…

Jamie couldn’t meet your gaze. If he looked you in the eyes, he would falter. If he faltered, he would never make it out of here. And, fuck, he really needed to make it out of here. But when you spoke to him, your voice quivering ever so slightly, he nearly broke his resolve. 

“What are you saying, JamJam?”

Okay. Okay, that he could focus on. Direct his frustrations to that. If he made a big deal out of that, he could stamp down all of the other awful feelings he had towards that. 

“Don’t call me that. I hate it when you call me that,” Jamie lied. 

A frown settled on your face. You took a step towards him, reaching out. He took a step back. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. Why are you doing this?”

Jamie looked away again. Fuck, he really couldn’t do this. How do other people break up so easily? His dad had no problem leaving his mum. Why was he having so much trouble leaving you? He tried to think back to something his dad had said—anything his dad had said—when he was having horrible, blow out fights with his mum that Jamie couldn’t ignore no matter how many times he tried stuffing his ears. But his mind was drawing a blank. 

He couldn’t think straight when he was with you. 

“Well? Are you going to say something or are you going to keep acting like a dick?”

He sucked in a breath and settled on, “I can’t be with someone like you anymore. Would look bad for my career.”

“Your career…?” you repeated. You shook your head, like you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Is this really because you’ve signed to Man City?”

Jamie shrugged. He didn’t know what he could say to you. Anything that came out of his mouth would only make things worse. Not that this was really going well. But he couldn’t…He didn’t want to break your heart, not really. He’d wanted this to be a clean break. Something that you’d understand, and you’d let him go. But everything he said just made it harder and harder to go. 

“Because if it is, you really are the biggest fucking prick I’ve ever met,” you continued. “Like, seriously? You finally start making it big and you want to throw everything from your old, poor life behind? What’s next? You’re gonna tell Georgie you won’t take her calls anymore? Pretend that you never knew any of us?”

“Don’t talk about my mum.” Ugh, fuck. This was going worse than he ever could have imagined. He looked back at you, trying to give you the most disinterested look he could manage. “Just get outta here. I don’t have time for this anymore.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You are a fucking prick. What, you’ll defend your mum but rag on me? That’s spineless, Jamie. If you want to break up with me because you’re going to be too famous for me, just fucking say so.”

Shit. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go. He didn’t want to make you angry. He just…He wanted you to understand. (But understand what? That he was a spineless coward, letting his dad’s words about not needing to be tied down when he entered the big leagues get to his head?) “Always been a prick. You’re just finally catching up with everyone else.”

You rolled your eyes again. With a shake of your head, you said, “You know what? I hope this is all worth it. Making me hate you before you leave. Because now all I can think when I see you is that I can’t believe I wasted my time with a guy who can’t even be honest with me.”

Jamie bit his tongue, holding back everything he wanted to say to you. To tell you the truth, to apologize and get on his knees and grovel until you forgave him. But instead, he only looked away. “Whatever.”

For a long moment, you stared at him, not saying a word. Probably waiting for him to make the first move, to see if he was going to actually let you in. But when he didn’t, you only shook your head, turned, and left. 

Jamie stood there, listening to you go down the stairs, shout a goodbye at Georgie, then the door shut. A minute later, his mum came up the stairs, poking her head in. She tutted when she saw all of his things strewn about the room, not even close to being finished packing. 

“I thought she was going to help you pack? You two get distracted again?” Georgie asked. 

“Something like that,” Jamie grumbled. He grabbed his duffel bag, starting to shove his shirts in it. “Don’t gotta worry about that no more. She won’t distract me anymore.”

Georgie frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Jamie looked out the window, catching a glimpse of you as you walked down the street to your own home. “Just don’t gotta worry anymore. We won’t be seeing her around anymore.”

And, oh, how he hated himself for that. But he would never admit it. He’d rather lie to himself, convince himself that this was a good thing, than admit that he just made what was, perhaps, the biggest mistake of his life. 

“I’m going out a run,” Jamie said when dinner was finished and Simon began to collect the plates to be washed. 

Georgie rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Can take my boy away from the game, but can’t take the game out of my boy,” she teased, reaching over and pinching one of his cheeks. Jamie let out a chuckle at the gesture. More seriously, she said, “Be careful. And make sure you have your phone on ya, yeah? Just ‘cause you’re a big footballer now, doesn’t mean that you can’t get into trouble.”

Jamie nodded, not really listening. He just needed to get out of there, if only for an hour or two. He loved his mum, yeah, but something about how the conversation turned to you really unnerved him. He’d done just fine not thinking about you for the last however many years. But now that you were forced back into his brain, he couldn’t figure out how to shake you out. So, he slipped on his trainers, pulled on a jacket, and shouted his goodbye to his mum and Simon before disappearing into the night. 

He wasn’t quite sure where he was heading. It was like his feet had a mind of his own, taking him wherever they pleased. And who was he to judge? After all, his feet made his fucking career. Without his feet, he would have nothing. So, if they wanted to take him on a tour of Manchester, fine by him. It’s just…Well, he’d prefer it if the tour didn’t end right outside of your bookshop. 

Jamie stared at the “open” sign for a long time. It was odd for a shop to be open so late, but you always were a night owl. You thrived when the sun went down. (His heart hurt when he realized just how easy it was to recall such simple details like that. How, even after all these years, he still knew you like the back of his hand.) 

There was a strong urge to keep running. To jog right past your shop and pretend that he never saw it. That he was never tempted to see you again, no matter how much his heart earned to just hear you one last time. It would be easier that way. Jamie had no idea what you felt towards him. If the anger still simmered from that fight. If your heart still earned for him, too. If you didn’t feel anything towards him at all—not love, not hatred, not anything. But there was a stronger urge to push open that shop, if only to get a glimpse of your face. He didn’t have to say anything. He could pretend he was at the wrong place, turn and run before you could even realize who was there. (He couldn’t do that, though. If he was going to commit, he had to commit. There was no backing out. If he was going to see you, he was going to see you.) 

Holding his breath, Jamie pushed open the door, a little bell jingling as it swung. 

There was no turning back now. 

“We’re about to close!” you shouted from somewhere in the back of the shop. “So unless you know exactly what you’re looking for and where to find it, go ahead and head on out!”

Jamie followed the sound of your voice, finding you in the back corner of the shop. It was a cute little knitting corner, with loads of yarn and needles and books of patterns. There was a long table, with a bunch of seats around it. Did people come here to knit? That was kind of cute. Jamie wondered, briefly, if you knew how to knit, and if maybe you could teach him. He’d like to have something to do with his hands when he had moments to relax. 

And you…God, you looked even more beautiful than the last time he saw you. How was that even possible? 

You weren’t even trying to look beautiful. Your hair was tied up, out of your face. Some strands had fallen loose. On anyone else, it might have made them look disheveled. But on you? It made you look like a goddess. You wore a large white sweater (had you made it in this little knitting corner?) and a long patterned skirt. From the bottom of your skirt, he could see a pair of socks peeking out. They looked like those sort of socks that had famous paintings printed on them. Jamie didn’t really know the names of any famous paintings, so he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. To top it all off, you wore the same chunky white trainers you’d worn the last time he ever saw you. Adorable, and practical—a perfect description of everything he knew you to be. 

“Thought you were gonna be a doctor somethin’,” Jamie said, tearing his eyes away from you and at the rows and rows of shelves. The shelves had little chalkboard signs above them with the genre written on them. They had a little bit of artwork corresponding to the genre, too. A bloody knife and the scream mask for horror, some hearts and flowers for romance, what looked to be an impressive portrait of Gandalf for fantasy. Did you draw them? He didn’t remember you being very artistic, and he thought he knew everything there was to know about you. Maybe he didn’t know much of you at all anymore. 

When you turned, there was shock clearly written all over your face. Your brows were raised, your mouth dropped open. You looked at him almost like you’d seen a ghost. Like, of all the people that could’ve shown up in your shop, he was the very last person you’d ever think to see. Maybe that was his fault. 

But then you smiled at him. He liked your smile. It wasn’t like the strange, uncanny smiles of the models he surrounded himself with—all perfectly straight, so white it could blind him. No, your teeth were natural, and perfect. “It didn’t make me happy like I thought it would.”

“Ah.” He didn’t really understand that. Was the point of a career to be happy? Wasn’t it just to make loads of money? To get your parents off your back? 

“And are you? Happy, I mean? Playing football.”

Jamie paused. That was an odd question. “I’m a top scorer at Richmond. At the last game, I—”

You held up your hand, signaling for him to stop talking. His mouth shut, and you said, “Jamie, I didn’t ask for your stats. If I wanted to know those, I could look them up myself. I asked if you were happy.”

Jamie paused again. He wasn’t quite sure the answer to that question. The only other person who ever really cared about that was his mum, and she’d been too excited to see him to ask that question yet. Was he happy? What did being happy really mean? “I don’t know.”

You frowned. Oh, he hated that. You frowning, he means, but also that look you were giving him. How your brows were pinched together, how you stared at him like you could see straight into his soul. You probably could. You’d always been smart like that. If there was anyone who could figure out a way to see into the thoughts, feelings, character of people…Well, it would have to be you. Or maybe his mum. But definitely you. 

“Oh, Jamie.”

And there it was. Perhaps the reason he found himself standing in your little shop just as it was closing. Perhaps the reason he couldn’t get you out of his head. Perhaps the reason that, even after all these years, all he could think about was how badly he fucked this. 

You stepped toward him, wrapping your arms around him. You pulled his face down into the crook of your neck. If you were anyone else, he might have wrenched away, told you to fuck off. But it was you, and he liked the way you smelled of roses, vanilla, and freshly brewed coffee. So he let himself wrap his arms around your waist, to take the moment to inhale your scent as he stood in your embrace. 

Being that close to you…He couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to your neck, pressing another when he heard you gasp. You were always so sensitive, so easy to rile up. A bit of pride swelled in his chest, knowing that he had all the right buttons to press memorized. He kissed up your neck, down your jaw, pausing just as his lips were about to meet yours.

“Stop me,” he whispered. He didn’t want you to, not really. But he wanted you to know you had a way out. That you were in control. 

Instead, you kissed him. A small moan escaped your lips. Fuck, he always loved the little noises you would make for him. He used to make a game of it, to see how quickly he could make you cry and whimper and whine for him. 

His hands fell to your waist, gripping it tight as he lifted you up onto the table. Your legs wrapped around his hips and tugged him closer. He grew hard, just from being this close to you. Fuck, he had really missed you. Missed this. What had he been thinking all those years ago to let you go? 

“Fuck me, Jamie, please,” you whined, reaching down, fiddling with his zipper. 

“Don’t got a condom—” he started to say when he remembered that he’d left his wallet at home. (How could he not have a condom?) As much as he wanted this, he didn’t want to take any risks. At least, not without you being okay with it.

“Don’t care. ‘m on the pill.”

“You sure?”

“Quit talking and fuck me, please,” you grumbled, nipping at his lips.

Jamie let out a chuckle, helping you free his cock from his pants. He pushed your skirt up, pulled your panties to the side to see if you were ready for him. A smirk settled on his face as he felt how wet you were. “Desperate for me, huh?” he teased, pressing kisses down your jaw. 

“Can you blame me?”

“Not one bit.”

He pushed his cock past your slick folds, groaning at the feeling. God, he’d forgotten how tight your pussy was. How you clenched around him with every thrust, how you sucked him back in, determined to take every last inch. 

“You're fucking perfect, love,” he said, panting with each thrust. “Dunno why I left you. Shoulda stayed. Shoulda been content with you.”

Your brows pinched together—whether from the pleasure or from his confession, he wasn’t too sure. Your mouth opened, ready to say something, but his cock hit that spongy spot deep in your cunt and a moan escaped instead. Your arms wrapped around him, your nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. “Y-You don’t mean that,” you gasped, your eyes squeezed shut. 

“I do. I do—” Jamie pulled you closer, his thrusts growing shallower. He reached between your legs, thumb settling on your clit, rubbing his fast circles, helping you reach your high with him. “You mean everything to me. Always fucking have.”

“JamJam—” you said, your voice growing louder as he hit that sensitive spot again, and again, and again. His heart stuttered at the nickname. He thought he would never hear it again, never hear you call him that again. Whatever you were going to say next was lost in a moan so loud you nearly screamed, cumming around him, squeezing the life out of his cock.

Jamie came not long after, his head falling to the crook of your neck, a groan escaping his lips. He pressed a kiss to your neck, staying like that for just a moment, trying to commit it to memory. “I mean it. Shoulda stayed.”

You pressed against his shoulder. He pulled away with a frown. You offered a small smile. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better. This was enough.”

He took a moment to tuck his softening cock away to try and collect his thoughts. How could you not understand that he was being genuine? Did you really think he was the sort of guy who’d say things he didn’t mean just to have sex with you? (Though, to be fair, he was that sort of guy. But not with you, never with you. You were the only person who could ever get the genuine side of him.) 

“I want to stay with you forever. To throw it all away.”

You stayed silent, sensing that this mind was working too fast for him to figure out how to say all the things he wanted to say. So, you let him stand there and process. You were always so good about that. Would always give him the room to figure things out instead of making him feel like an idiot for not knowing to talk about the hard things. 

Jamie’s hands came to rest on your hips as you stayed there in the silence. He rubbed small circles on the bit of exposed skin that appeared when your sweater became untucked from your skirt in all the madness. He liked this. He liked soft moments with you. When he was younger, he used to swear he would bottle them all up and keep them forever. He liked it then, and he liked it now. But, as he stood there with you, it all began to weight down on him. This scared him. This kind of commitment he was willing to give you…It could never work out. 

“But I can’t stay,” he whispered.

You reached up, caressing his face, running your fingers through his hair. He let himself shut his eyes, to enjoy the moment. He knew it wouldn’t last. “I know.”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. You stilled, your fingers no longer scratching at his scalp. “It’s too hard to leave now.”

“Oh, Jamie—”

“But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t get you outta my fucking head. Didn’t even mean to show up here, but it’s like my feet were working all on their own. Like they had their own brain or somethin’, I don’t know.”

You scratched at his scalp again, dragging your nails and soothing him. “It’s alright, Jamie. I never thought you were going to stick around. You were always meant for more.”

Jamie sniffled. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck so you couldn’t see his face. He pretended like he didn’t know you could feel the tears trickling out of his eyes. “You’re enough, though. You’re more than enough for me.”

“But you can’t stay,” you finished his thought.

“I’m nothing without football. There isn’t anything else I can do. I’m not brilliant like you,” he mumbled. “I can’t just leave what I’d been working for my entire life and open a book shop because it makes me happy.”

“Football doesn’t make you happy anymore?”

“It does, but you make me happier.” He looked up, letting you see the tears rolling down his cheeks.

You caressed his face, your thumb rubbing the swell of his cheek. A tear smeared across his face as you did so. “JamJam, you’ve always been meant for more. But if that’s not what you want anymore…It’s okay to leave those things behind. It’ll hurt, it’ll suck, but if it means you’ll be happier…It’ll always be worth it.”

Jamie shook his head. No. You didn’t understand. How could you? You didn’t have to deal with his dad. You didn’t have the same expectations, the same level of scrutiny. If the media found out he left football for this life, a simple life, then they’d never let him have a day of peace. They would still follow him around, talk shit about everything he did. And, God, if they found out about you…You didn’t deserve that kind of hatred they’d spew. He couldn’t ruin your peace for his own selfish reasons. 

“You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me, JamJam. Help me understand.”

He pushed himself away, turned his back to you. He couldn’t do this. “I have to leave.”

You followed after him. But when you reached out for him, he jerked away. “JamJam…Jamie, I love you. I have always loved you, but if you runaway right now…I don’t know that I can let you in again.”

Jamie swallowed thickly. He hated this. He hated it so much, but it was what he needed to do. He had to do this, no matter how much his heart and his brain screamed at him otherwise. “That’s probably for the best.”

When you didn’t say anymore, he started to walk away. With every step he took, it felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind. He fought every instinct to look back at you, to come running into your arms, to tell you he was an idiot and he could never leave you again. 

“Jamie?” you called out. He paused in his step, but didn’t turn. “Is this because you think being with someone like me will hurt your career?”

The tears started to well up in his eyes again. He was grateful you couldn’t see his face, that you couldn’t tell how much this was hurting him. He didn’t want to taint this moment anymore than he already was. “That was never true. You…you were always more amazing than I ever deserved. You should be with someone better than me.”

You were silent for a beat, then two. For a second, he wondered if you even heard him. Should he repeat himself? Or would that just make things worse? Finally, you said, “Goodbye, Jamie.”

“Goodbye, love.”

He left the shop without turning back. But, as he crossed the street, he turned. Watched as the lights in the shop slowly turned off. As you came out, locking the door behind you. He almost ducked behind a lamppost, not wanting you to realize he was still hanging around. But he didn’t, letting you see him as you turned around. You offered him a sad smile and a wave before turning and walking away. Away from him, from his life, forever. 

Jamie opened his mouth, ready to call out to you. But he shouldn’t. He couldn’t. You deserved better than a man who always so hot and cold with you. So, he turned, too, and began to jog back home. Maybe if he was lucky, Simon would still have some of those peanut butter cookies leftover. That could be good for him. 

Yeah, that could be good. 

[moirindeclermont]

Men beyond the façade: Colin Bridgerton and William The Bloody (Spike)

TW: brief mention of SA;

Like many things, the idea for this post comes with a random thought… I was talking about Spike with a fandom friend who did not watch all Buffy, and we came up with the idea of a fic in which Colin is a Vampire and Pen is the Slayer, and as I was writing snippets of dialogue, I've catched myself writing in a very distinctive Spike voice.

“Everyone underestimates her. She was a woman, for starters. She was short and plump. Everyone underestimated her until they were about to be dead (or dead again) because of her stake. Not Colin Bridgerton. He was fascinated by Pen, by her vitality, her joy for life. Hell, even her fighting gave him a boner.”

That's when I've truly started thinking about it. Can these two characters, who are so vastly different in the perception of people, have a lot of traits in common, so much so that they actually can be almost the same? I've decided to talk about 3 main points: the persona or the façade they put on, their relationship with their SO and the importance of accountability.

Of course, this whole piece is based on my very personal interpretation of the characters. But even without a personal interpretation, some similarities are just… there for everyone to see.

But first, a bit of presentation, if you met only one half of the pair we are discussing. I do discuss some plot points but I'm trying not to get into too much detail. Anyway, this is your spoiler warning.

Colin Bridgerton is the 3rd son of a very important family during Regency time in London. His dad died when he was young, there was a brief engagement during the first season of the show which did end when people found out the future bride was already pregnant with another guy. After that, he decides to travel a bit, until after a kiss (and a summer without Pen's letters - his best friend) he realises he is in love with her and from that moment he becomes Colin “my wife” Bridgerton. He has gone bad. Just to tell you one thing, he interrupts a dance Pen is having with another suitor and proceeds to finger her on a carriage. The man is unhinged when it comes to Pen.

Spike, or William the Bloody, or William Pratt was an only son of a noble family during Victorian London. He was a poet but his creations didn't gain much success, earning him the nickname The Bloody because of the poor quality of his writing. He was sired by Drusilla, with whom he becomes involved for a good century, and the nickname gets reclaimed as an attribution to his violence. During his life he kills 2 slayers, until he arrives in Sunnydale. After events he falls in love with the current Slayer, Buffy, and he also becomes absolutely unhinged and pathetic about it.

But their similarities don't even begin with this. Both of them have this façade they use to be cool and accepted. Colin return in season 3 as a charming and fascinated man and everyone (except his best friend and some family) congratulates him about it. William literally uses Spike as a way to prove he has changed. He changes the look, the accent and builds this reputation of being the big bad. For both, the cracks in the façade are not a crack but a river in Egypt, because both of them take so much joy and purpose in being the providers. They slip into that role with such ease and familiarity that you can see it's just who they are at their core.

I've seen a post about Pen and Colin that says “when little Miss “I can do It by myself” meets Mr “I know you can but let me” and if that doest summarise the relationship Spike has with Buffy I do not know what else does.

They both have a dream about their Significant Other in which they depict a highly romantic scenario in which both confess their feelings, come on.

I've said before that Colin went to the Gomez Addams school of loving your wife, but Spike was also there.

They both can't absolutely function without their respective partners and while their relationship evolves in different ways it doesn't change who they are at their cores.

Now, I know you are thinking about Seeing Red, because yes I've talked about being pathetic but surely they can't be the same even under this aspect (for those who have not seen Buffy, Seeing Red is an episode in which Spike attempts to SA Buffy). And while, I do agree, Colin has not done something like that to Pen, I think he would definitely have done the same thing Spike did when he realised what he had done to Buffy. Because when he is confronted with his mistakes, Colin does take accountability and so does Spike. In a way that's vastly different, for obvious reasons, but they both do.

Yes, Colin and Pen are healthier than Spike and Buffy. Absolutely. But Colin and Pen is what Spike and Buffy can become after they both do the work on themselves and each other.

Yes, there are differences. One is a vampire, for starters. But the point I'm trying to make is that when you strip away the difference and put them in similar circumstances, their actions prove how similar they are.

How they both tried to put out a façade, but how quickly that fall when they were confronted with Love. How they both take pride in having a woman at their idea that's indipendent and strong. How they both truly see their partners entirely. How they both know when they fuck up and they don't stop at apologize but they do the work to get there.

If they met, you just know they would talk about their partners constantly.

(And if you're wondering about the sex, the only reason Colin and Pen didn't fuck a house down - yup that happens - it's because they physically can't. After all, they broke at least one piece of furniture.

And Colin and Pen won the title for freakiest couple in Mayfair. Even their respective kinks match pretty well in my opinion.)

Now, I don't think this was intentional at all. It's interesting though because it's not a common interpretation of the romantic interest at all. And maybe for Spike the intention was completely different behind the scenes (iykyk) but for Colin it is very intentional. But that is another story ..

Before conclusing this, let me just quote the two most beautiful declarations of love (one by Colin, and one by Spike) and think about what they're really saying… they are so much more similar than you might think.

Colin: “And now I simply cannot believe that a woman with such bravery loves me.How lucky I am to stand by your side and soak up even a little bit of your light. If my only purpose in life is to love a woman as great as you… then I will be a very fulfilled man, indeed.”

Spike: “When I say I love you, it's not because I want you. Or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you *are*. What you do. How you try... I've seen your kindness, and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand, with perfect clarity, exactly what you are... You're a *hell* of a woman... You're the One, Buffy.”

I'm curious, though, to hear your thoughts on this.

And if you're still here, regardless of what you think, thank you for being here 💓

[burningvelvet]

On November 8th 1820, Claire Clairmont wrote some satirical stories in her journal about Lord Byron and Percy Shelley—they were written as ideas for caricatures (the Regency era term for what we would now call editorial cartoons or comic strips):

Wednesday, November 8th.

Caricature for Albé. He, sitting writing poetry, the words “Oh! faithless Woman” round the room, hearts are strewed, inscribed, “We died for love of you.” Another—he catching a lady by her waist, his face turned towards her, his other hand extended holding a club stick in the act of giving a blow to a man who is escaping. From his mouth,

“The maid I love, the man I hate

I'll kiss her lips and break his Pate.”

Three more to be called Lord Byron's Morning, Noon and Night. The first: he looking at the sky, a sun brightly shining—saying: "Come, I feel quite bold and cheerful—there is no God.”

The second towards evening, a grey tint spread over the face of Nature, the sun behind a cloud—a shower of rain falling—a dinner table in the distance covered with a profusion of dishes, he (with a Wallup) says—“What a change I feel in me after dinner; where we see design we suppose a designer; I'll be a Deist—I am a Deist."

The third—evening—candles just lighted, all dark without the windows (a cup of green tea on the table): and trees agitated much by wind beating against the panes, also thunder and lightning. He says

"God bless me, suppose there should be a God—it is as well to stand in his good graces. I'll say my prayers to-night, and write to Murray to put in a touch concerning the blowing of the last Trump."

Pistols are on the table, also daggers—bullets—Turkish scymitars . . .

Another to be called “Lord Byron's receipt for writing pathetic History.” He sitting drinking spirits, playing with his white mustachios. His mistress, the Fornaria, opposite him drinking coffee. Fumes coming from her mouth, over which is written "garlich;" these, curling, direct themselves towards his English footman who is just then entering the room and he is knocked backward. Lord B. is writing, he says.

"Imprimis, to be a great pathetic poet. First prepare a small colony, then dispatch the Mother, by worrying and cruelty, to her grave; afterwards to neglect and ill-treat the children—to have as many and as dirty mistresses as can be found; from their embraces to catch horrible diseases, thus a tolerable quantity of discontent and remorse being prepared, give it vent on paper, and to remember particularly to rail against learned women. This is my infallible receipt by which I have made so much money."

The last his death. He dead extended on his bed, covered all but his breast, which many wigged doctors are cutting open to find out (as one may be saying) what was the extraordinary disease of which this great man died—His heart laid bare, they find an immense capital “I” grown on its surface—and which has begun to pierce the breast—They are all astonishment. One says, “a new disease.” Another. “I never had a case of this kind before.” A third what medicines would have been proper, the fourth holding up his finger (A desert island.)

Caricature for poor dear S. He looking very sweet and smiling. A little Jesus Christ playing about the room. He says:

“Then grasping a small knife and looking mild

I will quietly murder that little child.”

Another. Himself and God Almighty. He says:

"If you please God Almighty, I had rather be damned with Plato and Lord Bacon than go to Heaven with Paley and Malthus." God Almighty: “It shall be as you please, pray don't stand upon ceremony."

Shelley's three aversions: God Almighty, Lord Chancellor, and didactic Poetry . . .

Sources: The Journals of Claire Clairmont edited by Marion Kingston Stocking, Harvard, 1968, Archive.org. “The Lord Byron / John Polidori relationship and the foundation of the early nineteenth-century literary vampire” by Matthew Beresford, University of Hertfordshire June 2019. Byron: A Biography by Marchand, Vol. II, 1957.

[dragon-creates]

Sorry Bowser, But Your Fiancé Is In Another Castle

Read on AO3

Hello!!! Its been a while since I published anything, things in life have just been hectic like college and family, and I'm also working on some multichapter fics that I'm planning on publishing soon. But I wanted to write this for my birthday as my gift to all of you. Today I officially turn 20 years old and I wanted to give this fic to you guys as a thank you for this year. 

@angelxd-3303 @baggedbees @heythereyoucutie @angelfangs-666 @bowserslittleprincess @tapetmal @omgmax221 @vampireopossum @liabloodx @chrissymorgan9700 @rottmnt23lover @beetlegoose01 @rivthescetch @rosiethedragongeek @spazzitazz @cool-taya @pumkinqueen @kettlepotmadness @oh-my-gosh-its-j0sh @tuna-jsgross @tanookileaves @starvingcritter @sirdeath41412 @trianna-phoenix @that-one-fangirl123 @hiimyourmom @1st-lil-poet @randompostsyayy @pikagirl18 @madeofmanyfandoms @timberwolfofthelostforest @theluckycollectorcolorposts @moonetta-art @mysweetloveismyjohn @i1lyidkstupid @roze-realm @danger-ghost @meep-13 @daisysrose @mefiman @zomboi-intel @thegayjokester @hyperfixatingonbowuigisohard @wogwoman

Whether you started following me for mario bros/bowuigi content or for another fandom entirely, I wanted to dedicate this birthday fic to all of you. (I’m so sorry if I didn’t mention you I couldn’t get you all in). If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have had this surge of creativity for the past year, I've got a few fics still in progress but after some time I hope ya'll will stick around for what I have in store. So that being said, even though its my birthday, this if a gift that I personally want to give from me to you. I hope ya'll like it and please stay safe xx.

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Congratulations! If you have received this invitation, that means that you have been invited to the wedding of King Bowser and King Consort Luigi! The wedding will take place at the Darklands castle 11th of June at 12:00PM sharp. Wear your best formal attire, a gift for the happy new couple and a smile. Hope to see you there!

King Boo let out an inhuman screech as he ripped up the letter. One of his boos had been scavenging secretly across the lands, finding a scattered invitation to the royal wedding and rushing back to give it to their king.

The poltergeist was fuming! Not only did his former associate double cross him and partner up with the Mushroom Kingdom to defend the rest of the lands from the ghost’s terror, but King Bowser was marrying his arch nemesis of all people, Luigi!

It didn’t seem that long ago when Bowser was chasing after the poofy pink Princess Peach, going so far to steal the superstar in order to do so. If it weren’t for the arrival of those pesky colourful humans did things start going haywire. Ever since Bowser was defeated by the red plumber and his younger brother, the koopa couldn’t stop thinking about the latter. Whenever King Boo visited Bowser’s realm, he would drone on and on about that stupid green man. First, he complained about how a low-life prisoner managed to defeat him and stop the star-crossed love between him and his ‘Peaches’, then it turned into begrudging admiration for the human (“I never thought someone so small could pack such a punch,” he remembered Bowser saying), and then the sickening realisation of Bowser realising his feelings for the green plumber had King Boo about to lose his final straw.

He was going to make Bowser realise how pathetic that human was and make him go back to his scheming ways! And so, he devised a plan, he was going to lead Luigi hear with the false pretence of him winning a mansion, trap his brother in a painting to lure Luigi to his doom, have his minions scare the living daylights out of him and trap him as well! Once that would happen, he was going to show Bowser the painting, make him realise how pathetic the human was and the two would return to world domination! (He had even arranged for a large model of the koopa king to frighten the little plumber).

However, his plans were foiled by a pesky little scientist, going by the name of Doctor E. Gadd. Apparently, he saved Luigi with the help of some type of vacuum that was able to suck up his boos and ghosts, leading to the two humans partnering up and the plumber taking down the ghostly king himself.

King Boo had never been so humiliated in all his life! And worst of all, after he managed to escape, it only caused Bowser to fawn over the human even more. Soon, Bowser would ease up on his plans to take over the Mushroom Kingdom and woo Princess Peach, instead, focusing on creating a steady friendship with the little green man. Of course, it didn’t go so well at first – the first meeting was Bowser imprisoning Luigi over lava after all – but over time, they started meeting in secret, going to meadows that the plumber had found due to his love of gardening, Luigi sending little treats to the koopa king, spending time with Bowser Jr and the koopalings, even going as far to pretending to be ‘kidnapped’ by Bowser so that he would be able to derail Mario from finding out about the two.

Eventually, King Boo tried his mansion plan again, twice actually! The first time was during the Dark Moon eclipse, forcing the ghosts E. Gadd had befriended to do King Boo’s bidding, the other was when he had joined forces with Helen Gravely and her haunted hotel. Yet again though, Luigi managed to foil both plans, each one of them ending up with King Boo captured.

When King Boo managed to escape again, he expected Bowser to at least be nonchalant about his intentions with capturing Luigi. However, when he arrived at the Darklands and saw Luigi there with the koopa king, all the poltergeist could see was red at this pesky plumber. He was going to attack the human and finish him once and for all, until he was met face first with a scaly fist and plummeted against one of Bowser’s stone statues of himself. When he gathered himself, he saw that the large koopa was on all fours, fangs bared and growling with smoke coming out of his nostrils and a protective arm around Luigi – who was trembling on the ground while clutching the king’s arm in fright.

King Boo had seen Bowser angry plenty of times before, but this, this was something he had never seen before. It was almost primal, animalistic and was never this reactive when it came to Peach. With a snarl, Bowser only said two words so quietly yet held nothing but danger. “Get out.”

That was all King Boo needed to hear to immediately flee the scene. Eventually, he learnt that during his imprisonment in E. Gadd’s lab, Bowser had been working on forming an alliance with the Mushroom Kingdom, going so far as to signing a peace treaty. Both he and Luigi had even revealed their relationship to the Princess and Mario, though while sceptical, were still accepting to the two as a couple.

And now here he was, with a ripped-up letter and a wedding on the horizon. How could Bowser do this to him?! He was King Bowser, lord of all things evil and set anyone ablaze if they ever tried to tell him what to do! And he was King Boo, the tyrannical ghost king ready to frighten the literal life out of anyone! Together, they could’ve taken over the remaining puny kingdoms and strike terror into anyone who opposed them. Now, Bowser was kissing the boots of a stupid plumber and about to marry him as well! This would not do at all.

“Ready my airships!” he screamed at one of his subjects, jumping at the sudden noise, “I want my armies to be ready by the date of the royal wedding!”

“But sire,” the smaller boo spoke up quietly, “You ripped up the letter, it had the date on it.”

“Does that look like my problem?!” he seethed at the minion, who quickly shook his head, “Then go find it out for yourself, and don’t come back until my armies and ships are ready to leave!”

“Yes, my king,” the boo bowed and fazed through one of the walls.

King Boo grumbled under his breath, an evil sneer creeping onto his face. If Bowser wanted to pretend to be the good guy, fine, he’ll treat him like the good guy alright. And he had just the plan to do so.

.

.

.

“Are you feeling okay Babbo?” Junior asked, letting out a small purr as he uncurled himself from Luigi’s lap to look at his soon-to-be stepdad.

“Huh?” Luigi broke out of his trance, meeting Junior’s worried look, “Oh, I’m fine baby, just pre-wedding nerves.”

“Don’t worry, Papa loves you so much to the point its grossing everyone out!” The smallest koopaling buried his face into Luigi’s neck, “Trust me, nothing is gonna stop him from marrying you today! He’d even marry you while dressed like that!”

“Junior, I’m not even ready yet,” Luigi chuckled. The human was wearing a fluffy baby blue robe as he waited for Peach, Daisy, Rosalina and his brother to get back with make-up, his wedding dress and food, to make sure he had something to eat before the banquet later.

“Exactly!” Junior chortled, “Papa was never this way with Peach, he looks at you like you’re a million superstars! Everything will be fine Dad, I promise!”

“Aw, thanks ragazzino,” Luigi cooed, hugging his stepson tightly before Luigi’s bedroom door opened and in came Mario, Polterpup and the princesses, “Junior here was making sure that I wasn’t feeling nervous before the wedding.”

“Aw, buddy!” Mario grinned and ruffled his nephew’s hair, who giggled at his uncle’s antics.

“Junior, could you go check on your father please?” Peach suggested, “I have the feeling he might also need one of your pep talks, you’ll also need to get ready as well. Take Polterpup as well, Kamek told me that he wanted to practice walking down the aisle with the rings one last time.”

“Okay Aunt Peach, come on Polterpup,” Junior jumped off Luigi’s lap and make his way out with the pooch by his side, shutting the door behind him.

Mario turned to his younger brother, “You doing okay Lu?”

“Yeah,” Luigi nodded, “Just a little nervous, you know?”

“Do you think you’re able to eat something?” Mario asked.

“Yeah, I think I’m able to,” Luigi gave his big brother a small smile.

“I hope so,” Daisy spoke up, “Cause your mom just gave us a buttload of pizza and man does it smell good!”

As soon as she placed the bags down, Luigi caught a whiff of the familiar homemade smell of his mother’s pizza and his stomach began to growl.

“Your mother is very kind Luigi,” Rosalina said, taking a slice for herself, “Though, I will admit, she did seem quite perplexed when Daisy and I had to correct her when she assumed we were…” her hand covered her mouth as she tried to hold back a laugh, “friends.”

“Oh no!” Luigi started to laugh as well as Peach, Daisy and Mario, clutching their stomachs at the thought of his poor mother’s confused face, “Poor ma!”

“I know!” Daisy cackled, “And the moment she realised she started apologizing for assuming and I was trying so hard not to burst, the poor woman!”

“Now, now Daisy darling,” Rosalina put her hand on her partner’s shoulder, “This is not the time to lose our composure over a silly mistake.”

Daisy let out another breathy giggle and placed her hand over Rosalina’s, “You’re right Rosa, though you have to admit, I was doing a much better job at controlling myself than you.”

The tall blonde raised an eyebrow at the shorter brunette, “Oh is that so?”

“Uh, yeah!” Daisy smirked, placing her hands on her hips, “You couldn’t stop trembling from trying to keep yourself together until you let out the loudest snort I ever heard!”

Rosalina rolled her eyes fondly, tucking a lock of Daisy’s hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek. “If that’s what makes you feel better, beloved,” she nuzzled her nose against her girlfriend’s, secretly relishing the way her cheeks flamed.

Daisy pouted and crossed her arms over her chest, “That’s cheating.”

“Alright lovebirds,” Peach made her way over to the other two princesses, “How about we focus on our groom here and making sure he’s prepared for his wedding.”

Daisy lit up at that, “Hell yeah!”

“I agree, we should keep our priorities in order,” Rosalina nodded.

Mario gripped his younger brother’s shoulders, “What do you say Lu? Food first then the make-up and dress?”

“Yeah,” Luigi leaned into Mario’s touch, “That sounds great.”

“Alright!” Peach cheered, “Strap yourselves in ladies and gentlemen, we’re gonna make a magical wedding!”

Everyone seemed to light up at Peach’s words. Once they pizzas were devoured, Mario had gone behind a divider to put on his tuxedo while the princesses focused on Luigi’s make-up, each of them having a turn before letting the other take over so they could put their own make-up on. It was a simple look they went for, white eyeshadow that held a little bit of sparkle, a soft pink blush and a peach coloured and flavoured lip gloss (it had belonged to the princess of that same name).

Once Mario was changed, the girls went behind the divider to change into their bridesmaids’ dresses while the older brother assisted Luigi with his gown.

The princesses emerged a while later wearing similar yet different dresses. Each dress had the same glittering tulle fabric, sweetheart neckline and full-length pleated skirt, the only different being the colours and sleeves. They all had the princesses’ respective royal colours, pink, yellow and blue, while Peach had short puff sleeves, Rosalina had off -the-shoulder ones that ended at the start of her wrists and Daisy wore no sleeves at all.

The girls gasped when they saw Luigi in his white wedding dress for the first time. It had a sheer blouse with little buttons leading from the collar to the bodice on top, which had a straight neckline and was embroidered with glittering vines, starting from the top of the neckline and ending at the top of a puffy, shimmering ballgown skirt. It was all topped off with a silver, sparkly tiara rested on the top of his head.

“Oh Luigi!” Peach brought her hands to her mouth, holding back tears, “You look-”

“-You look smoking baby!” Daisy grinned, bumping her hips against his as Luigi smiled bashfully.

“I agree with Daisy,” Rosalina nodded, taking her girlfriend’s hand into her own, “You look wonderful Luigi.”

Luigi rubbed his hands nervously, “Thank you everyone,” Luigi sniffed, Mario gently wiped the tear away so it wouldn’t ruin his make-up. Luigi let out a heavy sigh, “I think my nerves are acting up again.”

“Everything is gonna be fine Lu,” Mario reassured him, wrapping an arm around his younger brother and rubbed his back, “The moment Bowser sees you, he’s probably propose a thousand more times!”

That made Luigi laugh a little bit, some of his tension starting to relieve.

“Your brother is right Luigi,” Rosalina took a step towards him, “I’ve seen how Bowser looks at you and trust me when I say that I know how he feels about you since…I feel the same way with someone else.” Rosalina turned her head towards her girlfriend, Daisy squeezing the blonde’s hand as her smile widened.

“Also,” Peach started, “The big fella hasn’t been able to keep his hands off you ever since the two of you met, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger and I’m dying to see the look on his face when he sees you in that dress.”

“Hey, maybe I should wear a dress when we get married?” Mario suggested.

Peach squealed at her fiancé, “Yes! You would look so adorable in a dress! We would match and-!”

“-Okay heteroes, slow down,” Daisy interjected, shaking her head fondly at the pink princess and her plumber, “This day isn’t about you, let’s put our focus back on our groom here.”

“Well, what about you Daisy,” Luigi smirked at his friend, “You and Rosalina have been together for quite a while, when are you two getting hitched?”

Daisy spluttered and gasped while Rosalina’s face went as red as a tomato and hide her face in her hands at Luigi’s cheeky question. “H-hey! We haven’t- well we have talked but- It’s none of your business Luigi!” Daisy pouted, stomping over to her girlfriend, and burying her head in the blonde’s chest as Rosalina wrapped her arms around the shorter princess and hid her face in Daisy’s brown hair.

Peach and Mario absolutely lost it at what Luigi said, the latter slapping his knee as he and Peach howled with laughter. “Dang bro!” Mario wiped a tear from his eye, “You really have been spending quite some time with Bowser, haven’t you?!”

Luigi smiled softly, his mind drifting to the koopa, “Yeah…and today marks the start of a new life with him.”

Mario took his brother’s hand, “It’s almost time to go out soon, you ready?”

“Yeah,” Luigi nodded, “I really am.”

Peach wrapped her arms around her soon to be brother-in-law, “We’re so happy for you Luigi. And if you’re still feeling nervous, something tells me that Bowser also just as nervous as you are.”

“What? No way,” Luigi retorted with a snort, “I’ll bet you that Bowser isn’t freaking out right now.”

.

.

.

“I am totally freaking out right now!” Bowser hissed through clenched teeth. The wedding was taking place at the top of the volcano inhabiting Bowser’s floating castle. The seats were flooded with members of each kingdom – including his own subjects, the Mushroom Kingdom’s, Sarasaland’s, the Luma’s, the Jungle Kingdom, The Penguin Kingdom and Luigi’s family as well (Luigi’s mother, while sweet, still scared the life out of Bowser).

The king of the koopa’s was praying to whatever god was out there that he wasn’t sweating through his three-piece-suit. He wore a black blazer and trousers with accents on the cuffs of both that were shaped and coloured like fire. Underneath the blazer was a red blouse and covering his feet were a pair of shiny coal boots. His hair was swooped to the side and had decorated his eyes with eyeliner to make them pop out more. Now he really hoped he wasn’t sweating right now as he thought about that make-up.

“You’re gonna be fine Papa,” Junior piped up, his little ‘best man’ standing by his side, “Babbo was worrying about the same thing earlier, he wants to marry you as much as you want to marry him.”

“But he’s not here yet!” He whispered to his son, “Why’s he not here yet? Is he hurt? Did he change his mind and realise that I’m not good enough for him?!”

“If I may sire?” Kamek said, standing next to his surrogate son to officiate the wedding, “The reason he’s not here yet is because its not time for him to walk down the aisle, we still have five minutes before the ceremony starts. Also, that young man is one of the sweetest humans that I have ever met in my entire life, his dedication to the love that you to share is the strongest that I’ve ever seen. I find it impossible that he has changed his mind about his decision to marry you.”

Bowser sighed, “You’re right Kamek, you’re right. I know Luigi would never do that. Its just…I love him so much; I don’t ever want to lose him or have anything happen to him.”

Kamek smiled, “I’m aware sire and I think what you two have is wonderful. Now straighten your back, wipe that sweat off your brow and pull yourself together.”

“I can’t help that I’m sweating!” Bowser retorted, wiping the back of his head against his forehead, “Why is it so damn hot!”

“Dad, we literally live inside a volcano, of course its hot,” Junior deadpanned, “Also, you’ve been in heat hotter than this and literally never said a word!”

Bowser’s eyes widened, “Oh.”

It was when the strings from the wedding band’s instruments began to pluck did Bowser take Kamek’s advice, fixing himself up as he looked towards the doors that Luigi would be walking out of soon. The subjects from each kingdom and Luigi’s family turned as to the doors as well (Luigi’s niece had also began recording everything on their phone). The princesses walked out first in a triangle formation, making their way to the end of the aisle as they stood to the side where Luigi would be soon. Peach nodded respectfully to Bowser, the latter nodding back knowing that the pink princess was happy that this wedding would have her or anyone else be forced into marrying the koopa king. Then it was Polterpup’s turn, the ghostly dog prancing down with a red bow around his neck as he carried a pillow with the rings to the end of the aisle.

Once she made her way to her spot, the strings of the band softened. Bowser’s stomach churned, looking to the ground as he shuffled his feet nervously. It was only when he heard gasps from the crowd, did he finally look up. His jaw dropped. With his arm linked with his older brother’s to give him away, Luigi started walking down the aisle. He was so beautiful, to the way his eyes sparkled with the skirt of his dress, his blush blossoming against his cheeks and the smile he gave Bowser as he got closer and closer to him.

All of Bowser’s doubts went away as he returned the smile to his soon-to-be-husband. Everything was going to be fine; he was going to get married to the most amazing man he ever met and be the happiest he had ever been in his life.

He held his hands out to Luigi, who shared one more look with his older brother. Mario nodded, taking Luigi’s small hands into Bowser’s as he went over to join Peach. Bowser tightened his grip on his fiancé’s hands ever so gently as Luigi’s smile turned watery, joy talking over the tiny human. It seemed to be infecting Bowser as well, for the same look started to appear on his face as well.

It was perfect.

Kamek cleared his throat, “Dearly belove-haackkkk!!!!!”

Everyone gasped as a rock collided to the magikoopa’s back, sending him to the ground unconscious. Bowser wanted to go check on him, but the roaring of an airship had him whipping his head round to find the culprit who did this. A growl left his throat as he found out who’s airship this was once he saw the emblem on the front.

“King Boo,” Luigi whimpered.

Bowser could feel his fiancé trembling, stepping in front of him to protect him from the boos and ghosts starting to pour out of the ship and spooking some of the guests in their seats. Polterpup growled at the invaders who had frightened his master plenty of times before.

A wicked cackle echoed throughout the air, making everyone jump as King Boo appeared in front of Bowser and Luigi. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the happy couple!” he grinned maliciously, “I sure hope I didn’t ruin anything!”

“You weren’t wanted here Boo!” Bowser snarled at the poltergeist, “Leave while you can before you find out if you’re able to die twice!”

King Boo let out a fake, melodramatic gasp, placing his hand to his mouth as though he were offended, “Now Bowser, is that really any way to greet an old friend? I’m simply here to offer my congratulations, or rather, my condolences. After all, since your ‘Peaches’ was already snatched up by Mario over here, you’d have to go for leftovers instead.”

The disrespectful words that King Boo had for Bowser’s soon-to-be-husband was enough to infuriate Bowser. He swiped his claws at the ghost, sending King Boo back a few feet before crouching onto all fours in front of his fiancé in a protective stance, breath heaving with soft but threatening growls and a dangerous glint in his eyes and King Boo dared to come closer. “If you say one more word about my fiancé, I will make you regret every single time you’ve lured him to your mansions!”

“My, my!” King Boo drawled, a smirk on satisfaction creeping onto his pale – lack of – complexion, “Aren’t we defensive today?! I was merely stating the truth!”

“Then its clear that you have no idea what the truth is actually!” Bowser spat at him, “I love Luigi more than you can even comprehend, because of him I was able to be inspired to become better koopa and leader! Something that no one can say about you!”

King Boo grit his teeth and growled at that latest remark, when he saw that a few of his own subjects were giggling at Bowser’s words he sent them a cold glare, reminding them of their place. “At least I haven’t become soft enough to not expect an attack,” he turned to his boos, “GET THEM!”

In a flash, the boo’s and the koopa were immediately at each other’s throats. The toads were trying to lead the guests and Junior back into the castle to avoid them getting hurt, Rosalina had pulled out her hidden wand from her sleeve and casting spells to avoid the boo’s attacks, Daisy wasn’t hesitating to punch and kick as hard as she could and had some colourful language each time a boo tried to land a hit on her before she retaliated – if the boo’s didn’t know not to mess with her before then they did now -, Mario and Peach were working together, each of them using and ice and fire flower respectively to try and form a wall of heat and cold to guard Luigi from King Boo. As for the couple, Bowser remained on all fours, blasting fire from his throat every time King Boo tried to take even an inch towards Luigi.

Luigi’s eyes darted around the place in panic, from his fiancé to his brother, to the princesses and King Boo as well. Polterpup was beside him as a source of comfort to prevent him from further spiralling. Is this why E. Gadd hadn’t shown up to the wedding? After all the old scientist expressed nothing but joy at his surrogate son getting married, did King Boo do something to make sure he didn’t intervene with his plans?! If only he had his Poltergust with him, instead of standing around doing nothing. He did want to help but his dress would prevent him from landing any attacks and he had the feeling that everyone was a bit more protective over him due to the sudden turn of events.

When things seemed like it couldn’t get any worse, the boom of a canon made Luigi’s blood run cold. Along the side of King Boo’s ship were cannons firing towards the alter, hitting close to everyone and sending them flying a few feet and landing on their sides.

Luigi got up from his spot after getting hit, the bottom hem of his skirt singed, his ears were ringing and his head was pounding. Looking up and seeing that Bowser was on the ground and good length away from him, the koopa king was trying to get up but put too much weight on an injured arm and collapsed to the ground again.

Forgetting the screaming headache, Luigi tried to rush to Bowser, but was snatched up by two boos. He felt himself being lifted from the ground, letting out a panicked cry as he was led away to King Boo’s ship.

The poltergeist grinned maliciously; everything was going according to plan. With a whistle, the rest of his boos stopped attacking and trailed back onto the ship.

After standing up and regaining his bearing, Bowser’s immediate instinct was to look for Luigi. His eyes widened when he couldn’t see his fiancé anywhere, only for his heart to plummet to the pit of his stomach when he finally saw Luigi being hauled away onto the ship.

“BOWSER!” Luigi cried out for him.

Injured arm be damned, Bowser was on all fours again, trying to chase after the ship and boos, “LUIGI!”

But it was too late, Luigi was gone and in King Boo’s grasp.

Everyone else was starting to come to, Mario rubbing his chest where he got hit before rushing to Peach and helping her to her feet. Rosalina had sat up from where she was sitting, cradling a barely lucid Daisy in her lap as the brunette tried to keep her eyes open. Even Kamek, who had remained from where he was hit, was finally waking up.

“Why does this always happen to me at weddings?” the magikoopa grumbled. However, his ceased with his mumbling when he saw his son pacing around on all fours, limping on his front left arm. “Bowser! What happened?! Here now let me see that arm!”

When Kamek when to touch his arm, the king whirled round and snarled at the new unknown threat, only to whimper with guilt when he saw that it was only his father figure trying to help. “Don’t worry, I know you’re not in the right headspace at the moment,” Kamek soothed the panicked koopa, “Just let me heal that arm of yours before it gets any worse. While I do that could somebody please tell me what on earth happened here!”

“It was King Boo,” Rosalina spoke up, still cradling Daisy in her arms as she stood up, “It seems as though he decided to invite himself last minute and left quite a…mess, to say the least.” The space princess grimaced as she looked around at the exploded seats, splattered wedding cake and singes in the walls as well.

“Wait a minute,” Mario looked around, realisation seeping in, “Did he take Luigi?!”

“I should’ve stopped him,” Bowser murmured as Kamek finished his healing spell, “I’m supposed to be stronger than this.”

“Now that is just nonsense!” Kamek spluttered, “King Boo is nothing but an unhappy overgrown marshmallow who thrives upon the misery of others who earn their happiness through kindness and courage. None of this is your fault.”

“You don’t understand,” Bowser shook his head, “When I proposed to Luigi I made a promise to him, his family and Mario that no matter what I would always protect him and love him as selflessly as possible, and I failed him before we could even exchange vows,” he turned to Mario, “I’m so sorry I broke my promise.”

“Hey!” Mario frowned, “I might not have understood you and Luigi at first, but the more I saw you too together, the more I realised who you truly are underneath that shell of yours. Luigi might not have changed you, but he did inspire you to become the version of yourself that you wanted to be. You loving Luigi made me see just how far you’ve come, Kamek’s right, its not your fault that King Boo is a selfish prick!”

“Mario!” Peach gasped.

Mario chuckled before turning back to the koopa, “You promised to keep Luigi safe and to love him selflessly, not for King Boo to kidnap him. If you really wanna keep your promise, we’re gonna get our shit together, storm King Boo’s castle and get my brother back!”

“Now that is something I can definitely agree on,” Kamek smiled, who had used his healing spell on everyone and was moving onto Daisy. The second he waved his wand, Daisy jumped out of her girlfriend’s arms, picked up a dropped sword from the ground and raised it above her head.

“LET’S KICK SOME BLOODY BOO ARSE” She screeched.

“Daisy,” Rosalina shook her head fondly at the brunette.

Bowser smiled softly, he took in his new family, the family he would be marrying into. He never thought he could be this happy, or that he was allowed to be this happy. But ever since meeting Luigi, he found himself confronting the worst parts of himself that he had avoiding for so long, denying that he was in the wrong. But the more he learned about the brothers’ adventures, about the evils that were worse than him, including Luigi’s trips to King Boo’s mansions, he knew that he wanted to be better than that. It took a lot of trial and error, but it was worth. He became a better ruler, a kinder soul, a gentle lover. All of that was thanks to Luigi.

Bowser finally stood to his full height, rolling his shoulders back and letting a few bones crack. “Let’s make King Boo pay.”

Everyone grinned at one another, plans already formulating in their heads on how to get Luigi back. “We can’t just waltz right in there with nothing, especially without a change of clothes,” she glanced down at her ruined dress, pouting at the state.

“We’ll also need someone who’s dealt with boos before,” Mario agreed.

“Then its decided,” Kamek spoke up, “After a change of clothes, we’ll head straight to E. Gadd and get his help. If King Boo has done something to him, we’ll have to act fast.”

.

.

.

Luigi sighed as he tried to unlock the door again. Once they arrived at King Boo’s castle, the mad ruler shoved him into an empty bedroom and locked the door behind him. He had to admit, the room was hauntingly beautiful, from the grey and black walls to the luxurious queen-sized canopy bed to the sparkling chandelier, it was a sceptical to look at. The cons however were the locked door and the lack of windows, reminding Luigi that he was still a prisoner.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, only that it was after the hundredth time of trying to unlock the door did, he give his tired hands a break. He kicked off his heels and collapsed onto the bed, he just wanted to go home. He wanted to hear his brother’s awful jokes, his family nagging at his to eat, to have tea with the princesses, play video games with Junior and snuggle up in Bowser’s arms as the koopa played the piano for him. Why was King Boo always trying to ruin things for him?! Could he not have one day where the ghostly king would leave him be?

Suddenly, a boo was floating through the wall, making Luigi let out a strangled gasp as he backed up on the bed, pressing his bed against the pillows. “Now, now dear boy there’s no need to panic,” the boo reassured him, “My name is Bingley, I’m only here to help with your fitting.”

“My what?”

“Your fitting, by King Boo’s orders,” Bingley informed him.

Luigi shook his head in disbelief, “Wait, wait, wait, why would King Boo-?”

“Please young sir, the master is already upset and anymore delays would only increase his anger,” Bingley pleaded with him and was over to Luigi in an instant, pulling him off the bed and in front of a mirror. In a flash, the boo had managed to pull out a roll of measuring tape, measure out each length of Luigi’s limbs and floated out the room again. Luigi only had a moment to pull himself together before Bingley floated back into the room with a black gown in his arms. “For you good sir. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to continue with preparations, I’ll leave you to get changed.”

“Wait I-!” Luigi called out, but to no avail, the boo was gone again. With a sigh, he held up the gown. It seemed nice enough, plus he was in enemy territory so refusing the garment could make things worse.

He carefully stripped off his white dress, laying it gently on the bed before pulling on the black one. Once he was complete, he looked at himself in the mirror. The new dress he wore consisted of a tight-laced over-bust corset with a poofy bertha across his collarbones and shoulders, lace bell sleeves that drooped over his wrists, a ruffled high-low skirt that trailed at the back and exposed his legs, lacey black tights that hugged his curved thighs generously and a pair of black heels were left by the side of his bed for him to complete his look.

Luigi flushed at the new look, while he loved wearing dresses and gowns along with his regular shirts and slacks, this was a style that he had never thought about trying before so he certainly wasn’t used to how this new outfit looked on him. It was nice but it left him blushing at the thought of walking out of this room wearing it.

Just as he was slipping on his heels, Bingley floated through the walls again, marvelling his work, “Oh marvellous, you look simply marvellous! I must say this is my best work yet. Now all we need is the veil and the look will be complete.”

“Veil!” Luigi spluttered, “Why do I need a veil?!”

“Isn’t it obvious Luigi,” The mocking voice of King Boo made Luigi freeze in his spot as he slowly turned to face the monarch, “We’re gonna get married!”

“…WHAT?!” Luigi screamed; fear started to settle in again.

“Well it makes sense, doesn’t it?” King Boo sneered, “Your beloved Bowser always kidnapped Peach back when he was a bad guy and you and your brother would always go meddling with his plans to get her back. But now since Bowser wants to be a goody-two-shoes, he thinks that he can get away with leaving our friendship behind! Well tough shit! If he wants to play the good guy, then he’s gonna get treated the way good guys should!”

“So let me get this straight, the only reason you’re marrying me is just to get back at Bowser for wanting to be a better person, or in his case koopa?” Luigi deadpanned.

“Well duh, you honestly think I’m doing this because I like you?!” King Boo gagged, Luigi didn’t know whether to feel flattered or offended that the thought of marrying him made the ghost feel sick. “I’m letting that dragon wannabe get a taste of his own medicine, the only difference is that when he’s getting here, he ain’t walking out with a victory or a bride in his arms.”

The monarch cackled, frightening Luigi all over again. Even before he and Bowser got together, he always believed that King Boo was the worse out of the two. Even though Bowser was great when they first met – to put it mildly- in a way, he still cared for his subjects and believed that his wrong actions were good in a way. There were even times as foes when the koopa would help him and his brother on missions, showing some light in the koopa that proved he was worth redemption. But with King Boo, he wasn’t in denial about being awful, he loved being horrible and committed each terrible actions with glee, and the way he spoke to and about his subjects make Luigi gawk at how someone could say such unkind things with a grin of his face.

The king took that as his sign to leave. Bingley followed behind, a sad look on his face. “I’m sorry,” was the last thing he said before disappearing.

Luigi sunk to his knees, the reality of the situation becoming much clearer than before, he could only hope that this would end how his and Mario’s adventures would and Bowser will be able to save him. “Oh Bowser,” he whimpered, “Please hurry,”

.

.

.

“This is where the old man stays?” the koopa king inquired, as he, the princesses, Mario and Kamek came up to the Evershade Valley Mansions, koopa and toad soldiers following behind. They had changed out of their formal attire before arriving, with Mario wearing his normal overalls, the princesses changed into their biker suits, Bowser had dawned his normal spiked neck and arm bracers while Kamek continued to war his blue cloak. Polterpup was currently trailing by Bowser’s feet, offering as much comfort as he could to his master’s fiancé.

“From what Luigi told me, E. Gadd continued his research here along with a few ghost that didn’t want to be acquainted with King Boo,” Mario informed the group, scanning his surroundings at the same time.

“I don’t know whether to a grateful or wary about the lack of ghosts here,” said Peach, clutching her axe “Keep your eyes open in case it’s a trap.”

“Whether the ghosts assisted King Boo with stabilising the doctor or they had no choice in the matter,” Kamek spoke up, “It is important to wait until we find E. Gadd before jumping to any conclusions.”

The group nodded in agreement when suddenly, Polterpup sniffed the air as a familiar scent was caught in the air. With an excited yip, he tore down the path down to the main mansion ahead.

“Polterpup, wait!” Bowser called out.

“We need to go after him,” said Mario, “He probably knows where E. Gadd is!”

Bowser turned to the guards outside, “You all stay there and keep watch, inform us immediately if you see anything suspicious!”

The soldiers nodded as the group chased down the little blur of white as the pup faded through the walls of the mansion. They opened the doors as carefully as they could, making sure not to alert any ghosts that could still be wandering by.

They spotted the little dog sniffing the floor, turning his head to the group as though he were telling them to follow him. Bowser was the first to move, desperate to find the doctor as soon as possible so that Luigi was back and safe with him. After a few twists and turns, Polterpup soon led them down a basement. Lo and behold, frozen in a painting was E. Gadd, his face frozen with terror. Polterpup whined at the state the old man was in, looking up to Bowser pleadingly.

Bowser patted the little dog’s head, “Don’t worry boy, we’ll get him out.” He turned to the others, “What was the device that Luigi used that helped get you out of the portrait?”

“He said something about a dark-light device,” said Mario, “I’ll go look for it, I’m quite familiar with place.”

“I’ll come with you,” Peach placed a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t want you doing this alone.”

“Are you sure?” Mario asked, “You’ve never been here before, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I know, but I have been caught by King Boo before, so I know how it feels,” Peach reassured him, “Besides, Luigi means a lot to me as well and I want to help get him back.”

Mario smiled warmly, taking Peach’s hand off his shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it, “Okay.”

“We’ll stay here with Bowser,” said Rosalina, gesturing to herself, Daisy and Kamek, “In case anything happens.”

Mario and Peach nodded, making their way back up the stairs as they searched the empty mansion.

“Be careful, the last thing we needed is someone sneaking up on us,” Mario told her.

“Don’t worry dear, I can handle myself,” Peach answered. When arriving at the second floor, the due came across a room that seem to be more lived in than the others. The sheets of the bed were clean, the wardrobe was half open and filled with clothing, and a chest with E. Gadd’s crest on the front of it. Peach turned to Mario with a proud smirk on her face, “I believe we have a lead.”

Mario grinned at the Princess as the two made there way over, “There seems to be a lock on this.”

“Stand back,” Peach gently pushed him away as the lifted the axe before her head, but before it could make contact with anything, a ghost burst its head out of the chest, startling her and making her fall back.

“Peach!” Mario cried out, rushing over to her and helping her up.

“Leave!” the ghost screeched, though not as angry as it tried to make itself out to be, it was more worried and fearful is anything, “Leave while you can!”

“Sorry,” Mario shook his head, “But I’ve got a brother to save.”

The sound of bars slamming the ground made the due whip their heads round, the door was blocked by some sort of ectoplasm bars and more ghosts teleporting into the room. With quick thinking, Peach slammed her axe down onto the chest, breaking it and revealing a poltergust and a dark light. Mario quickly grabbed the two items, slinging the poltergust onto his side and clipping the dark light to his belt, “Peach, cover me!”

The princess nodded, swinging her axe at any ghost that tried to come close to her or Mario. Quickly switching the poltergust on, he aimed it towards the first ghost that tried to attack them, as the poltergust began sucking the ghost in, Mario slammed him to the ground a few times before the ghost was fully stored inside. This continued on, with Peach guarding his back with her axe while Mario sucked in the ghosts. During this he couldn’t help but feel proud of his baby brother, this is what he did every time Mario was captured and managed to do it each time without fail. He was definitely going to pay for Luigi and Bowser’s honeymoon the second they find him.

Once the last ghost was sucked up, the duo raced out of the room and back down to the basement before they were stopped again. Bowser perked up the minute he saw the dark light.

“You got it!” Bowser exclaimed.

“Yeah, not without a little trail and error first,” Mario chuckled, “Stand aside, I’m getting the doctor out.”

As Bowser did that, Mario attached the dark light to the poltergust and aimed it to the painting. With the flick of the switch and the soft glow of the dark light doing its work, E. Gadd stumbled out on the painting and fell onto his bottom. Polterpup barked happily and went over to lick the old man’s face.

“Oh my, Polterpup please give me some space!” E. Gadd spluttered.

Bowser suppressed a laugh as he lifted the pup up with one hand, “It’s good to see you again doctor.”

“I express the same sentiments, although I do wish it was under different circumstances,” the old man muttered.

“Would you mind explaining what happened here?” Kamek asked.

“Well its simple really, I was preparing myself for Luigi’s wedding until that blasted King Boo barged in and grabbed my dark light before I had any time to react. When I tried to call out to my ghost friends, King Boo had forced them to assist him and threated that they face dire consequences if they didn’t do as he commanded. In the blink of an eye I was suddenly in the painting and was forced to listen to his plans with Luigi,” E. Gadd recounted his story.

“Plans with Luigi?” Bowser frowned, dread returning once again, “What plans does he have with my fiancé?”

“For some reason, that mad King believes that the best way to get back at you is kidnapping and marrying Luigi!” E. Gadd told him.

“He plans to what?” Bowser growled, the thought of his sweet and kind Luigi being forced to marry the one he feared most made his stomach churn.

“Apparently the king was quite upset that you left your friendship behind,” said E. Gadd, “He wants to recreate each time you’ve kidnapped Peach in order for you to get a taste of your own medicine.”

Daisy burst out laughing, “I really don’t mean to react like this but oh my god! Bowser’s finally getting karma I can’t believe it! This is what you get for kidnapping my best friend!”

“Daisy, please,” Rosalina sighed, “Don’t mind her, she means well.”

Bowser groaned and rubbed his face, “She’s kinda right though, I deserve this after putting Peach through all of my ridiculous plans.”

“Which you have shown remorse for and I’ve already forgiven you,” said Peach, “Now I believe you have a fiancé to rescue before he becomes someone else’s bride.”

The image of Luigi and King Boo flashing in his mind was what made his head get back into the game, “Doctor, tell me you have something to help save Luigi.”

“Well lucky for you my friends, I have learned a little titbit over my years of research,” the old man grinned, “Always make sure to pack extra.”

.

.

.

Luigi sighed as he clutched a bouquet of black roses as he waited at the doors that were attached to the castle ballroom. He wished he was back in the koopa kingdom, wearing the dress that he chose, walking down the aisle with Mario, smiling at all his friends and family as he and Bowser exchanged vows. Why did this always happen to him? And why did it have to be today of all days?

“Mister Luigi?” A little voice piped up.

Luigi looked to his left, a soft smile forming on his lips as he saw a little baby boo by his side, “Oh, hello piccolo. Are you alright?”

“I was actually going to ask you that,” the baby boo said, “I know you find our master really scary.”

Luigi’s face fell a little, “He doesn’t really like me that much.”

“Then why does he want to marry you?” the little boo asked, “My mama always said that you should marry for love.”

“And your mama is absolutely right,” Luigi tapped the boo on the nose – or where its nose should be – “But King Boo is doing this for the wrong reasons, that’s why I’m so sad.”

“I’m sorry,” the baby boo nuzzled itself into Luigi’s neck, with Luigi nuzzling right back.

“It’s not your fault bambino,” Luigi patted its head, “Sometimes there are those who do these types of things and we often don’t know why they do it.”

“I hope that you’ll get to marry someone you love soon,” said the little baby boo, “I don’t know if this will make you happy, but you look really pretty!”

Luigi chuckled and nuzzled the boo again, “Thank you, that does make me feel a bit happy.”

The sound of trumpets made him gasp; the wedding was starting.

“I have to go,” the baby boo whimpered, “I don’t want to get in trouble, be careful Mister Luigi!”

The boo disappeared as the doors opened. Luigi gulped as he forced himself to walk down the aisle. The guests consisted of other ghosts and boos, looking extremely guilty about the whole ordeal. At the end of the aisle was King Boo, smugly straightening a bowtie. Luigi dreaded for what would happen once he made it to the end, pleading internally for something – anything – to put an end to this.

He made it to the end of the aisle, King Boo grinning as a ghost officiant began his speech. “We are gathered here to celebrate the union between our King and the green half of the Mushroom Kingdom Heroes,” the ghost began to shake under the fearful stare King Boo was giving him, “Though this couple seems unlikely, it is this ceremony that shows-”

“-Yada, yada, yada!” King Boo interrupted, looking irritated already, “Just skip to the ‘I do’s’ would ya!”

“Um, yes, of course your majesty,” the ghost stammered, “Do you King Boo accept Luigi’s hand in marriage.”

King Boo cackled, “I do,”

“And do you Luigi accept our King as your husband,” the ghost turned to the human.

Luigi trembled, desperately wanting to say no. But he was at the mercy of the king, if he was to say no who knows what would happen? The last thing he wanted was for anyone to get hurt because of him. Someone, please, get me out of here! Help me, please!

Crash!

The windows shattered, glass falling everywhere, Luigi lifted to arms to shield himself but when he lowered them, Bowser was stood in front of him with a poltergust in hand. “Bowser!” he all but cried tears of happiness seeing the love of his life.

“Luigi!” yelled back with the same amount of joy.

The human was about to run to the koopa when he was grabbed by King Boo and the two of them were ascended to the ceiling. “Sorry old friend!” King Boo sneered, “But your little human belongs to me now!”

“Um, actually sire,” the ghost officiant spoke up, cowering when King Boo glared down at him, “The human didn’t repeat his vows, therefore you too aren’t married yet.”

“WHAT?!” King Boo screeched, turning back to Bowser, “It doesn’t matter, whether he likes it or not, Luigi will be my subject.” He turned to the rest of the ghosts and boos “What are you waiting for?! GET HIM!”

Within seconds, every single boo and ghost went to attack Bowser straight away. The koopa was prepared however, taking out the poltergust and aiming it at each one that came his way. When one boo or ghost was being sucked up, Bowser would slam them to the ground, dodge aa hit from another attacker, slam the half sucked-up ghost to the attacker, and repeat again each time after a ghost or boo was stored away into the poltergust.

“That’s it Bowser!” Luigi cheered, earning a proud and flustered grin from the koopa, “That’s my fiancé!”

“Would you shut up!” King Boo screeched into his ear, “Hurry up and say I do before I make you regret it!”

“Never in a million years,” Luigi retorted, feeling a bit bolder, “I have faith that Bowser is going to defeat you, if you’re going to pretend to be like my fiancé, you have to accept that you’re going to lose like he did.”

“I heard that!” Bowser yelled.

“PRETEND?!” King Boo screamed, “I AM TWICE THE KING THAN BOWSER WILL EVER BE! HERE, IF YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME, I’LL SHOW YA! SQUISH HIM FLAT YOU FOOLS!”

The ghosts and boos paled at that order, they only wanted to distract Bowser, even if it wasn’t working. But deep down, they were secretly hoping that the koopa would be able to stop them so they wouldn’t need to deal with King Boo’s cruelty anymore. But an order was an order and there was no other back up plan. One by one, each boo and ghost piled on top of the koopa king, for what they lacked in size, the poltergeists made up in numbers. Soon, Bowser was stuck to the ground, trying desperately to keep a grip on the poltergust, but it slipped from his grasp.

“No!” Luigi tried to scramble out of King Boo’s hold, but it was too tight.

The king laughed maniacally, “Here’s the deal wimp, you other complete your vows, or I end your precious koopa right here right now. The choice is yours.”

Luigi bit his lip, glancing at the winded koopa on the ground, he didn’t want to make this worse than it already was. But just as he was about to agree, a faint chuckling rose from below the boo and human.

“Wow!” Bowser laughed, to the confusion of King Boo and his subjects, “How is your ego worse than mine old pal?”

“Excuse me,” King Boo growled, “You’re nothing but a pathetic waste on my castle floors, I have your little Luigi at my beck and call, yet you still believe that you can win this?!”

“I do, actually,” Bowser smirked, “I just have to wait in three…two…one.”

The roof crumbled, long ropes falling from the empty hole above as the toad and koopa armies swung down, poltergusts in tow. Within seconds, they were sucking up the boos and ghosts off Bowser, with the koopa lifting himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders back and picked his poltergust up from the ground. The princesses, Mario, E. Gadd and Kamek made their way down as well, with Mario and E. Gadd being the only ones with Poltergusts. Kamek and Rosalina had their wands while Daisy wielded a sword and Peach an axe.

Many more boos and ghosts flooded the ballroom, but by the looks on their faces, they were no match for Bowser’s friends and armies.

“COME AT ME YOU OVERGROWN MARSHMALLOWS!” Daisy shrieked at the incoming poltergeists.

“I’d advise surrendering,” Rosalina murmured, “My patience grows thin when my friends are endangered. Either that or you face my darling Daisy, trust me, you’d rather surrender now.”

“You ruin my son’s wedding and kidnapped my future son-in-law,” Kamek grumbled, “I plan to make your consequences extremely severe.”

“King Boo!” E. Gadd screamed, “Your lucky that if it wasn’t for Luigi, I’d burn your portraits by now, research be damned!”

“Luigi is one of my best friends,” Peach spoke calmly, though her eyes darkened, “I don’t take it well when people hurt my friends.”

“You shouldn’t have taken my brother!” Mario shouted, “One thing I always make sure is if anyone messes with Luigi, they regret it deeply!”

“Luigi is the love of my life,” smoke escaped from Bowser’s nostrils, the threat of what was to come being extremely clear, “You hurt him one too many times, and now, I’m going to take great pride with finding out just how to make you suffer for it.”

Luigi felt King Boo tremble, there was no denying how obvious it was, despite the stoic look he tried to maintain. “I-I…JUST SAY ‘I DO’ ALREADY YOU LITTLE!!!---” King Boo didn’t manage to finish his sentence when fire escaped from Bowser’s mouth, making the king drop Luigi.

Luigi screamed, afraid that he was going to meet the hard marble of the ground when he felt himself plopped into something warm and scaly. Taking in his surroundings, he noticed that the hand he was in had bright yellow scaled. Looking up, he met his fiancé’s beautiful red eyes and a tearful smile pulled at his lips, “Bowser, you came for me!”

He lunged himself at the koopa, gripping him tight in a hug. The koopa chuckled as he gripped Luigi back, “I wasn’t gonna let some dumb boo ruin our wedding. Besides, I promised to protect you, that means rescuing you from impromptu kidnappings.” Luigi pulled back, gentling cradling the koopa’s face in his hands before bringing him into a kiss. Bowser returned the kiss with the same amount of softness, before gently pulling back and resting his forehead against Luigi’s. It was then when his eyes trailed over Luigi’s form and noticed the new gown he was in. He blushed at the amount of exposed skin from Luigi’s tight-clad legs.

Once Luigi noticed the koopa’s gaze on him, he buried his face into his hands, squealing, “Oh god, I just realised I had this on! This is so embarrassing!”

“Well I’ll give King Boo this,” Bowser smirked, “He has a good taste in fashion. Though, I think its mostly you, you’re able to pull off everything.”

“Stop,” Luigi’s face was as red as his brother’s overalls, though he secretly loved the complement, “I genuinely don’t know how to feel about this dress, its really not my usual style.”

Bowser took pity on his fiancé’s flustered state, so he tore off a piece of a black curtain and wrapped it around the human. He pressed a kiss to the human’s forehead, “Better?”

“Much,” Luigi rested his head against the koopa’s muzzle “Thank you.”

“NO, NO!” the screams of King Boo tore the happy couple away from their tender moment as they turned to see the poltergeist being sucked into Mario’s poltergust, the rest of the ghosts and boos seemed to have been sucked up as well while the two were being reunited, “THIS ISN’T FAIR, I’M SUPPOSED TO WIN!”

Daisy whacked the flat edge of her sword against the boo’s head, assisting with Mario’s poltergust sucking up the King. “NO!” was the last word King Boo spoke before he too disappeared into the poltergust.

“And that is what happens what you mess with my brother,” Mario scowled. It quickly faded the moment he saw his brother, “Lu, are you okay?! This fantasma che mangia merda didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No Mario, I’m okay!” Luigi sniffed at the sight of seeing his brother, the red plumber jumping into the koopa’s hand to give his brother a hug, “I’m okay Mario, you don’t need to worry.”

“Good, otherwise I’m getting Daisy to whack him with her sword again,” Mario muffled his words into Luigi’s shoulder, still squeezing him tight.

“I’m up for it!” Daisy put her thumbs up.

“Ah, ah, darling,” Rosalina hooked her thumb under Daisy’s chin, “Behave yourself.”

“Eh-uh-um…Rosa you can’t just pull that on me!” Daisy spluttered, blushing madly.

Luigi giggled, leaning into Bowser’s and Mario hold.

“We’re so glad you’re safe Luigi,” said Peach as she walked up to them, “We’ll make sure that this remains as a one-time thing.”

“After seeing how King Boo reacted to all of you bursting in like that, I’ll have to agree,” Luigi nodded.

“Its good to see you again son,” E. Gadd spoke up, Kamek by his side as the koopa agreed with every word the old man said, “I apologise for not making it to the wedding, as you can tell I was quite…preoccupied.”

“There’s no need to apologise doctor,” Luigi smiled, “I have a feeling we’ll need to push the wedding date back a little bit to clean up the mess King Boo left behind.”

“Well with a little help with my magic, the process should be a bit quicker,” said Kamek, “And I’ll finally have a proper chance to deal with King Boo and his subjects.”

However, at Kamek’s words, Luigi’s eyes flittered over to the full poltergusts in the corner, his smile drooped. Bowser took notice of the human’s change of demeanour immediately, “What’s wrong, love?”

“Its just…” Luigi sighed, turning to Bowser. Mario jumped down to give his brother more room, “I can’t help but feel sorry for the boos and ghosts under King Boo’s rule.”

“What?!” Daisy cried, “Those guys literally helped King Boo kidnap you?! You seriously feel sorry for them?!”

“Its not their fault!” Luigi retorted, “King Boo was forcing them to do that stuff, after all these years with dealing with him I get it. I don’t wait to punish them just because their boss scared them into doing something they didn’t want to do. I’m not saying they shouldn’t face consequences, but I want to give them the benefit of the doubt.” He placed his hand on Bowser’s cheek, “Just like someone else I know.”

Bowser leaned into the human’s touch, “You never cease to amaze me greenie.”

“Kamek,” Luigi turned to the magikoopa, “If you don’t mind, I would like to release these boos and ghosts to make them part of our kingdom, as long as they want to.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Kamek bowed before moving to the poltergusts,” With your permission E. Gadd, I’m going to remove King Boo’s old subjects out off these poltergusts and keep a hold of them, sans the king of course.”

“By all means go ahead,” E. Gadd stepped to the side as Kamek waved his wand, summoning the boos and ghost out of the poltergusts, yet making sure he used his magic to keep them from trying anything.

The poltergeists gazed around the room, confused until their eyes landed on Luigi. The human’s heart twisted when he saw the petrified looks on their faces, “There’s no need to worry, I’m not going to do anything. On behalf of myself and King Bowser, we would like to formally invite you all not only to be guests at our wedding, but to be citizens of our Kingdom as well.”

Each poltergeists’ eyes widened, each of them turning to face another ghost with surprise at the sudden news. ��Although we aren’t letting you off the hook just yet,” Bowser spoke up, “We don’t want you to be in fear of King Boo anymore. In our kingdom, you will be safe and treated with the same respect as my own subjects.”

“Only if you wish of course,” Luigi reassured them, but the face splitting excited smiles each of the ghosts and boos had at the news they would finally be free of King Boo informed him what their answer would be. He nodded to Kamek to let them go, the poltergeists swirling and soaring through the air with joy, the baby boo from before rushing over to Luigi to nuzzle him again, with the human cuddling him fondly.

Bowser’s smile widened even more, holding his fiancé closer, wondering how he got so lucky. “Shall we head back home, dearest?”

“I would love that Mio Caro,” Luigi settled into the koopa’s arms, letting his eyes resting as he continued to cuddle the little boo.

Soon all the toads, koopa’s, boos and ghosts had filed up behind the rulers of their kingdoms as they headed back home.

.

.

.

A Few Weeks Later

“Do you Bowser, take Luigi’s hand in marriage as your lawfully wedded husband, to love him unconditionally until the end of time?”

“I do.”

“And do you Luigi, take Bowser’s hand in marriage as your lawfully wedded husband, to love him no matter what comes your way until you reunite in the cosmos?”

“I do.”

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you…married!” Kamek cheered.

The moment Bowser and Luigi’s lips met; the crowd rejoiced. The koopa, boos and toads were all hugging sobbing at the happy couple, Luigi’s family cried for their youngest son as they wished him and Bowser nothing but the best, Junior and Polterpup jumped up and down with joy at the sight of his dads finally being together, E. Gadd was sniffling into Kamek’s robe with the magikoopa complaining how dirty the doctor was getting it, Daisy and Rosalina smiled fondly at the happy couple as each princess planned on how they would propose to each other next, Mario and Peach had their arms around each other as they hoped that one day they would have a wedding just as magical as this. As for Bowser and Luigi, nothing else mattered in this moment apart from each other and how amazing the rest of their lives would be as long as the other was in it.

Luigi lifted his piranha plant bouquet into the air, letting the crowd get ready to catch it. He flung it up and let it go, letting it fly through the air until it landed in Daisy’s arms. She and Rosalina shared a look, the two of them blushing before the blonde smiled and brought the brunette into a soft kiss, the shorter of the two sighing happily against her girlfriend’s lips.

Bowser lifted Luigi into his arms, supporting his waist and legs – along with the poofy skirts of his original white dress – with Junior jumping onto Luigi as the human cuddled his son tight and Polterpup draping himself across Bowser’s shoulder while the koopa patted the pooch’s head.

Everything was perfect, there were no messed up plans, no interruptions and definitely no King Boo. While his old subjects did have a lot to make up for after what they did to Luigi, they were welcomed into the koopa kingdom with open arms. King Boo, however, was sealed tight into a portrait and locked up in a safe where he could never touch Luigi again.

His ocean blue eyes met Bowser’s fiery red once again, though neither of them said a word, they knew exactly what the other was silently asked for. They would have to go in for photos and the after party soon, but Luigi wanted to relish this moment as much as he could.

So before anything and everything else, the couple’s lips pressed into one more gentle kiss. And finally, all was right.

.

.

.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little birthday gift. Have a great rest of your day xx.

[xserpx]

Inspired by @zarovichs 's post, I decided to make one for (most of) the POV characters from the standalone trilogy: Best Served Cold, The Heroes, and Red Country.

Say one thing for Joe Abercrombie: say he writes fuckable characters.

[katyspersonal]

Queelign for the ask meme pls lmao

That terrible, terrible man....

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

Favorite thing about them:

The way he is basically suppressed, or lost, little version of Messmer! It is not just that he modelled his weapon after his spear and aspires to be like him, but also the way he speaks of Marika and feels about her! He is very infatuated, loyal and oddly.... naive, considering the context! I absolutely feel like he reflects that more hopeful, more puppy-eyed child Messmer doesn't get to be. Untouched by curse or hatred of abandoned child. I love when character serves like a window into someone else too!

Ignoring this narrative nonsense that I am probably just hallucinating, I just love how sensitive he is. Seeing how he sounds passionate or pathetic or both, I expected him to be a young man, but he is listed as 'mature'! So he is like, around 40! I love me a male who doesn't lose his sensitivity with age... to better or worse. In a better turn of events, he'd be a great poet, I can tell this. :pensive:

Least favorite thing about them:

This is a pain to explain but whereas I love how religious-fanatical he is, I ALSO hate it? He captivated me from the first invasion (as much as I didn't want to admit it), but also I read Crusade Insignia description and was like "ohhhhhh FUCK I reeeeally hate this guy already!!!" hfhghh I suppose, it is fair to be conflicted? He falls for the type of the characters you love in fiction but would dread to meet in real life!!

Favorite line:

"Queen Marika, behold! I have excised another. Another cancer to thy joy." This kind of made me uneasy XD How he is this pathetic and this scary at the same time?

brOTP:

I feel like he and Moonrithyll would be friends! ….that are constantly bickering with each other. XD Whereas he is very fixated on Messmer and aspires to be like him, with Moonrithyll it is similar with Rellana! Rellana believes that sky and fire should be together, after all, and Moonrithyll respects trolls as descendants of Fire Giants more than she does as just loyal friends to Carians.

But whereas things between Messmer and Rellana are very good and settled, Moonrithyll constantly lets the attitude of "pledging to the Erdtree was a cringe phase for us, at least thanks to Messmer we are soooo back baby 😎" slide. Before Queelign. *million skull emojis* But despite them often fighting, they are not enemies. In fact, maybe frienemies? They have long conversations (mostly about their leages lol) that they enjoy a lot, and they have fun... until one of them says something they really should agree to disagree on already. -_- Queelign doesn't because he is too petty to not remind everyone how he is the only one to "really" respect Marika, Moonrithyll doesn't because she is honest to a fault!

OTP:

I actually really like to think about him and Messmer? Help me??

^^^ Messmer and Rellana are canonically a thing, apparently, so it is somewhere in AU drawer... but still!! There are just... a lot of things between them.

^^^ Queelign is the only Fire Knight that seems to have been "spared" by Messmer's curse; he doesn't have red hair and trademark red cape! And I like to think this is deliberate. That Messmer cherishes his "innocence", seeing him as little naive version of self. He could not take that away from Queelign, nor ruin the hair color so golden, nor he wants Queelign's heart to break upon learning that true nature of Messmer's Flame comes from something existing as anathema to the Erdtree.. He never got to be a person so blinded with faith in Marika's love, but he can allow Queelign to be this...

At the same time, Messmer pities him sometimes. He sometimes feel bitter and hurt when Queelign goes on the rant about Marika's "boundless love" and "sure return someday" and wants to snap at Queelign. He has dark enjoyment pushing Queelign to think of dread of Marika's hatred and neglect and watch him break down and cry, as Messmer is almost dead inside nor he physically can have tears. He wants him to cry for them both. He also wants to comfort him. He is uncomfortable with Queelign wanting to be just like him. He also finds solace in it because Queelign gets to be a version that isn't cursed. He cherishes his naivete. He also sometimes wants to obstruct this little sunshine and curse him too but restrains himself. There are many conflicting feelings.

And yeah, it looks a bit one-sided, right? :p Messmer has such an internal conflict over Queelign, whereas the other just admires him and thinks being like him is epitome of a proper Marika's follower. But all Fire Knights know Messmer very well, and he is not an exception. Queelign is very insistent on Marika's holiness and perfection with anyone else, but when Messmer allows his suppressed hatred and knowing Marika will never embrace them again slide? Queelign argues for his sake and not hers. He genuinely hates to see him despair. The contrast between Queelign being very sensitive and Messmer becoming oddly cold for a fire wielder is also fun x)

They have a lot of tension between them most of the time, but deep down they both know. Messmer is not stingy with affectionate words for people he trusts and values, and Queelign is no more afraid to disagree with him than one would with a very moody friend. He can tell that he has special rights even compared with other Fire Knights despite not being given direct "communion" with his flame, and when Messmer tells him it is because he cherishes him the way he is, Queelign believes that.

nOTP:

Either I live under a rock or fandom is yet to invent ships for Queelign to BEGIN with. xD I legit don't know which ship for him would be bad? I'll know it when I see it, I suppose...?

Random headcanon:

He constantly fucks up cooking. Like, there is no way he doesn't ruin his meals. When it is not misinterpreting recipe or adding too much due to simple clumsiness, it is that he got distracted or lost in thoughts about Marika's grace. 🙄 Every time he is determined that he WILL focus and do it right, and every time he fails. When things are inedible, like, it is charcoal or looks dangerous, he resorts to making puppy eyes to other Fire Knight so they share their food with them gghkugg They are used to it! Hilde even used to cook a bit more dinner than she needed, fully expecting him to drop by!

Unpopular opinion:

Look, I do like jokes about his haircut, I am not humorless! AND I love this cursed image from Reddit proving "that he only looks bad because of his haircut":

( x ) gfhghgb but- I disagree with allowing it to brush an interesting character aside!! Jokes are fun, but making whole character a joke isn't 😔💔 He deserves his place amongst other "fanatics who simpmaxx" like Lautrec, Alfred and Leda, and should have many bitches same as THEM!!

Song I associate with them:

Ironically, not the depth of introspection I see him reaching any time soon.

Favorite picture of them:

I can't really find Queelign fanart, let alone chosing a favourite tbh.. Myself, I have like, four WIPs featuring him, but you know me, I finish like two drawings per year at BEST. Scarlet Rot Depression eaten away my artist poweeerrrr...

Thank you for asking!! Lmao I can't shut up about this man

[hyperraduo22]

‎ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ♡ ‎ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

┊ .˚ 🎙️ welcome to hyperraduo22 !!

the station that never stops tweaking ༘┊͙

__________________________________________

𓆩♡𓆪 ‘ About this blog ,

she/they 🩷💛🩵

beautician

blog recommended for 14+ (i curse and may discuss mature themes once in a while but i don’t post nsfw)

multi-fandom 🤝 dead poets society main

fanon / headcanon knox enjoyer (i’m just here for josh charles playing a pathetic lover boy character with coke zero brown eyes)

ultimate charlie apologist and danburry sibling endorser

OTHER MAIN FANDOMS : the outsiders, the breakfast club, house MD, the group chat, emergency intercom, black mirror, A24, life is strange

࿔₊• ‘ Masterlist / Stations ,

100.1 ____ dead poets society top posts

long list of random headcanons (part 1)

my dps roman empires

what are the context of these images?

the cast of dps when they grow their hair out

gale hansen the man you are… + edit of the entire cast

100.2 ____ dps blurbs and analyses

how i characterize knox overstreet

my personal take on the todd anderson hair color debate - brought to you by a beauty school student (part 1)

explanation and misconceptions of determining hair color via a hairstylist perspective - how the level system works and why we get into debates about hair color using the todd anderson example (part 2)

mini analysis: the admirably tragic reality behind dead poets society

mini analysis on mr. perry’s character

mini analysis: the mistaken portrayal of chet danburry

mini analysis: how stick and spencer stand out

blurb: the original dps and the importance of art in life

mini analysis: where the dead poets fall under welton’s social hierarchy

small detail blurb: what christian religion is practiced in welton academy

100.3 ____ other dps posts

the dynamic of dylan kussman

little love for background characters <3

ginny and chet = sinjin drowning coded hc

how knox overstreet would do your makeup hc (detailed thread)

the alpha princess gf and slightly fruity bf dynamic

102.1 ____ random (may contain multi-fandom crossover content)

rsl and matt dillon

000.0 ___ more stations coming soon!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[coquelicoq]

In talking about Chaucer (p. 74), I said that, in general, puns and verbal connections of sound were unimportant and not to be sought out; and now, you will say, I have been using them to explain cruces in Shakespeare. Alas, you have touched on a sore point; this is one of the less reputable aspects of our national poet. A quibble is to Shakespeare [Johnson could not but confess] what luminous vapours are to the traveller; he follows it at all adventures; it is sure to lead him out of his way and sure to engulf him in the mire. It has some malignant power over his mind.... A quibble was for him the fatal Cleopatra for whom he lost the world, and was content to lose it. Nor can I hold out against the Doctor, beyond saying that life ran very high in those days, and that he does not seem to have lost the world so completely after all. It shows lack of decision and will-power, a feminine pleasure in yielding to the mesmerism of language, in getting one's way, if at all, by deceit and flattery, for a poet to be so fearfully susceptible to puns. Many of us could wish the Bard had been more manly in his literary habits, and I am afraid the Sitwells are just as bad.

William Empson, 7 Types of Ambiguity, ch 2 pp 100-101

i'm sorry this is so fucking funny. that pathetic loser shakespeare who loved puns so much it cost him everything, except of course his status as the most famous, most read, most immortal english-language author of all time. but everything else, he lost and it's all because of how weak he was to resist a pun :/ pouring one out for my sad little girly man who could have had it all if only he was better at writing, the thing he is the most famous guy in the world for.

even empson, who disagrees with johnson that shakespeare "lost the world", is like, too bad our favorite poet is susceptible to the thing that made him famous :/ really tragic that the guy whose wordplay we've been talking about for 300 years likes wordplay :///

also i can't get over writing a book about the types of ambiguity and NOT INCLUDING PUNS?? sorry but puns are ambiguous! that's where their juice comes from! imagine liking ambiguity so much you write a book about it but never mention puns except to dunk on them. imagine being a POET and POETRY CRITIC who looks down on sound-based ambiguity! could not be me!!

[snoopysfriendwoodstock]

what's ur full ttpd song ranking and why?

omg… this will be long lol

1. who’s afraid of little old me? - taylor has tried “female rage” a couple times now and it always falls flat bc she has to be the victor/mastermind of all of it. mad woman & vigilante shit just kinda suck! FINALLY in this song she sort of admits defeat? i find it really interesting to hear her reflecting on her career & her own view of herself and the public perception of her without her feeling the need to throw a “but i’m okay! and actually i’m winning!” in at the end. also the vocals and theatrics are soooo good i just love it <3

2. the smallest man who ever lived - that ENDING. this takes me back to some very classic taylor songs, especially the dear john bridge or last kiss bridge and as a speak now girl i can’t get enough.

3. the prophecy - both people who love this song and people who hate it reduce it down to “she’s sad she doesn’t have a boyfriend” but imo this song perfectly captures the ACHE of being someone who just always has a little ribbon of loneliness running through them. it’s that dark middle of the night place you can’t let yourself go to. and it’s PERFECT.

4. so high school - i don’t have a lot to say here but this is the song she’s talking abt when she says she’s putting narcotics in them. i love it so much. do that impression you did of your dad again ❤️

5. but daddy i love him - i love her delusional ass! also the “i’m having his baby” line is soooo funny sorry!

6. guilty as sin? - there’s a reason this one’s a fan favorite! it’s just soooo good. there’s nothing wrong with a sexy song.

7. so long, london - “i’m just mad as hell cause i loved this place” is such a taylor line. so simply devastating. i think she got away from just very simply stating her emotions/feelings in her newer albums but this song has soooo many lines that go back to that form of writing that she’s so good at. “stopped trying to make him laugh” is another one that really hits.

8. loml - this hits my favorite genre of taylor swift song that is just so sad it’s almost like oh my god you have to stop… what a valiant roar! what a bland goodbye!

9. the black dog - ik i’m kind of a broken record at this point but “i just don’t understand how you don’t miss me” is SOOOO taylor. very early taylor! and i love the idea of taylor swift having someone’s location on her phone. she is sooo pathetic she’s just like me!

10. the bolter - songs used to be STORIES!

11. the alchemy - i can’t explain it. it just scratches my brain really well. i love how it soundssss

12. fresh out the slammer - i LOVE the chorus on this one. and i love when it slows down at the end and gets kinda weird.

13. clara bow - i LOVE this song. i love how haunting it is i love “you look like taylor swift” i love how pessimistic it is as an album closer. it feels like folklore again w/ hoax as the last song. she said we are NOT in change/long live/begin again/clean/new years day/daylight hours anymore we have LOST hope. in fact it’s super interesting compared to change/long live that are all optimistic about the industry/making a name for herself bc now she’s realized there were other taylor swifts before and there will be other taylor swifts later.

14. how did it end? - another just absolute fucking banger of a sad song. the commentary on fame/the public/her fanbase hits.

15. i hate it here - unfortunately this song is sooooo me it’s not even funny.

16. i can do it with a broken heart - who is this “nobody” that doesn’t know she’s miserable? i love this song it’s so funny. “i cry a lot but i am so productive” is a lyric that was necessary for society

17. my boy only breaks his favorite toys - this song grew on me SO much. it’s so pathetic i love it.

18. florida!!! - this song rocks so hard. i think taylor & florence’s voices compliment each other so much

19. the albatross - i love her voice on this one. she’s here to destroy you!!!

20. the tortured poets department - i love this one i’m sorry. i love the sound i love that it feels like she’s trying something new i love how cringe and desperate it is. also lucy dacus mention!

21. peter - i wish i understood this song the way a lot of people do but it’s simply not my favorite! i do love the way she keeps repeating “you said you were gonna grow up then you were gonna come find me” in the chorus. don’t listen to this & never grow up back to back. it’s not funny.

22. down bad - hated this one at first but it has REALLY grown on me. i love the alien abduction metaphor! “i might just die it would make no difference” is like come on girl get up

23. i look in people’s windows - love this one, don’t listen to it much. but never skip when it’s on. her voice is gorgeous and i loveee the writing on it

24. the manuscript - again, i don’t choose to put this one on much but holy shiiiitttt… now she eats kids cereal? and can only sleep if it’s in her mother’s bed?

25. cassandra - i love the idea of this and it has some great lyrics but i feel like she didn’t quite get it off the ground? i love the bridge. it’s like ALMOST there. cassandra is my favorite mythological figure so maybe i just had really high expectations.

26. imgonnagetyouback - this will for sure rise in the rankings soon bc i’m finally getting it. it’s so fun, just not as good as a lot of the anthology tracks.

27. fortnight - i don’t love this one, but the chorus is really catchy. & post malone’s verse is the best part, that gets stuck in my head all the time.

28. thanK you aIMee - god this song is so funny. “everybody knows my mother is a saintly woman but she used to say she wished that you were dead!” i’m just kinda sick of these kind of songs from her if that makes sense?

29. chloe or sam or sophia or marcus - i’m waiting for this one to click!!! i’m sure it will & there’s parts i REALLY like but i skip it every single time

30. robin - i’m sorry it’s a skip from me. it’s beautiful but i’m never ever wanting to hear it. it’s sweet! but not for me

31. i can fix him (no really i can) - idk the rhythm and tempo of this song doesn’t work for me. it sucks bc her voice is so sexy on this one & i love the pathetic aspect but i always skip. it’s not as bad as my least favorite on other albums tho <3

[eddiesversion]

steddie as 'the tortured poets department' songs #1

so, i had some ideas while listening to ttpd... some songs just screamed steddie so i wrote some short stories! forgive any mistakes, it's 6am and i still haven't slept because my brain wouldn't stop working. hope someone likes it! ♡

eddie grew up in hawkins; he only knows conservatism. father, mother, children, church on sundays, perfect family and shit. theoretically. he knows better. as an closet homossexual but active in hawkins' hidden community, he has seen some things, he knows things, and probably done a thing here and there but this is another level. wanting steve harrington, longing for steve harrington, loving steve harrington is another level.

you would think that being accused of murder, chased by an entire town, hunted by a psychopath from another dimension and be almost eaten by bats would be the most difficult challenge of a young man's but the reality is that nothing is more challenging than steve harrington and his damn tight shorts that he (fortunately) only wears at home when the party gathers at the harringtons' rich, private pool. it takes everything in eddie not to fly into those firm thighs and perfect ass of his friend (it's still surreal to refer to 'king steve' as a friend even months later... for several reasons) or to kiss all the freckles on his back. he's not religious but he prays every time he looks at steve to make it through another day without slipping up and confessing how much he loves every mole, every freckle, and how he would mark steve on each one of them to show those fuckers in this godforsaken town that no one would ever have the privilege of having this angel again because steve is his and eddie is completely, literally, 100% indisputably his forever and ever.

sometimes they flirt. i mean, he thinks they do. if steve isn't dodging his touches (and eddie touches him A LOT), laughing at eddie's -not always so good- jokes even when they're not high, or returning a flirting back as a joke, sometimes accompanied by pink cheeks or eye contact until steve looks away, is an indicator. if he doesn't overthink, he can really believe that these moments are real outside his head, in the real world. he can believe that when steve lays his head on his shoulder while they smoke in comfortable silence after a day of work and they just want to rest, or after they wake up from a nightmare and meet because they find comfort in each other and don't need to speak a word about it or when steve looks at his chest a little too much while applying sunscreen on pool afternoons, that steve wants him as much as he wants steve.

when eddie lays his head on the pillow, he knows how horrible it was to spend another day letting himself believe he'd have a chance with steve. the voices of the townspeople screaming in his head that it's obvious the town's freak would be queer and have a crush on hawkins' sweetheart with the most catholic upbringing possible, with a house, a perfect wife and children waiting for him in the future. could he be more pathetic? sometimes he touch himself despite this.

he comes thinking about the taste of steve's lips

the flavor that his neck's skin must have

the sounds he would make (and he has to admit that he pays a lot of attention to every little noise steve makes)

the twin scars they both have

how 'i love you' would sound in his voice

many nights he sleeps crying but this time the monster is scarier than any monster from the upside down. it's love.