#peach!Marshall

[mythicalmagical-monkeyman]

Wukong: *staring at Macaque* Ma: ... Close your mouth. You're drooling Wukong: No, no I'm not

[gummyartstradingcards]

[itsabouttimex2]

Heavenly Refuge

(Made to pair with one of my Ne Zha bots!)

This is not where you belong. This is a paved land of gold and white, stark and sparkling. What little life there is that’s been allowed to grow is stifled, under thick restriction. Koi fish in opulent fountains. Peach trees in a rigid row. Sacred flowers in little silver pots. But there is no true freedom for these little living things- each one is under strict maintenance.

Like yourself, then.

So short a time ago had you been plucked from the mortal realm by a Celestial Prince, his appearance heralded by a blushing fire divine. The soft light raged high, and fervent footsteps beat against the fertile ground, and the air filled with the scent of… lotus.

Ne Zha, as you would come to know him.

Marshal of the Central Altar. Third Lotus Prince.

“Y/N! Get down from there!”

Sometimes you wondered if maybe it wasn’t a spear that the warrior wielded, but instead a stick with which to constantly jam up his own-

“Y/N!” He repeats, pink fire racing around him in anger. “I will not say it again! Come down from that peach tree this instant!”

No doubt that the stern prince wished to bestow upon you another lesson of manners and dignity, to teach you the way of the Celestial Realm. Perhaps this time it would be on the matter of properly conveying respect to the elder members of the Court. Perhaps he would lecture about the food that was or wasn’t acceptable to eat in a realm of Gods.

Peering down from the sacred tree reveals a sight you have become quite familiar with- your “guardian”, decked in crimson and pink and gold, fuming.

At this point, he seems ready to explode.

You slowly peer over the edge of the tree, shaking.

Ne Zha freezes.

There are hot tears spilling over your cheeks and down the smooth tree bark, drenching the sacred peaches on the branches beneath you. You’ve overgorged on fruit, cheeks stained with the sweet juice of the holy drupes. From the scent of several saccharine puddles of bile on the ground, you’ve vomited at least twice.

“By the Realms…”

The words are barely a mumble, caught under his breath, his pink fire dimming as he catches sight of the tears on your cheeks. He’s angry at you, yes. But… you look so miserable. The prince cannot help but be taken by a wave of concern for your wellbeing.

Sun Wukong had done this before, once. Eaten a near tree’s worth of sacred peaches and chaos an outright uproar in the Celestial Realm… but he had not been a child (not by the Celestial Realm’s standards, at least) and he had not been a trembling, vomiting mess.

“…Y/N. You will come down from that tree, and you will do so now.”

There’s a hollow look in your eyes, one he’s grown used to- it’s the same look you get when you “know” what’s waiting for you.

You’ve known harsh backhands and hanger strikes. You’ve known folded-over belts and crescent scars born of manicured keratin. You’ve known hot iron and water buckets.

But the Li family are not the guardians you knew. Teaching you this seemed to be going down the route of pulling teeth, unfortunately.

The Third Lotus Prince holds out his arms, and forces a trembling smile. It’s hard to bear a grin when what he wants; more than anything, is to bolt you by steel into place and never again risk you slipping away.

When you stand up and jump, it’s with far too much ease. The plummet comes almost naturally, like you’d been thinking on it for hours.

‘Are you used to risking your life’, Ne Zha wants to ask. But you won’t answer. He already knows that. ‘Do you like risking your life?’

It almost relieves him that you were sure to keep mum instead of answering. Because…

…because he’s scared (and certain) that you would say yes.

Ne Zha catches you with a measure of grace, your ragged form landing bridal style in his arms. And… Gods, you look even worse up close. Dark bags under your tear-swollen eyes, puffy patches of red around your cheeks, irritated by the cling of sticky juice and the bare-nail scraping of your trembling hands.

“…a-are you… are you m-mad…?”

“No,” he half-lies, patting your quivering back. “Let’s get you home.” Ne Zha shifts you to a more comfortable position, then tightens his hold. Anything to not look directly at your miserable, worn face. Gods, when was the last time you actually slept through the night?

“…Mis… M-Mister Jing…?” Is the trembling question on your lips, barely audible. “Are we going to your father?” is the little section left unspoken. Not that the prince wouldn’t understand.

Ne Zha is already walking along the path back to Li family’s palace.

“Yes, little witch. He’ll be…”

Gods, he was never any good at lying. Then, the last time the prince tried was centuries ago. His own condition at the time had been rather similar to yours, a little trembling mess of tears and bile. Ne Zha had sworn to his father with big wet eyes that he was most certainly not sick, just very excited to start training. It hadn’t worked for him then, obviously, and even now he can barely manage a somewhat believable:

“He’ll be, ah, pleased to see you unharmed.”

And on his way the prince goes.

On any other day, there would be chatter amongst the other deities, servants, and guards. Today, though, the only sound in the air is the click of Ne Zha’s boots against the paved way, punctured by your shaky breathing.

They don’t even have to enter the palace to find Li Jing- the man is waiting, stern and frowning, under an opulent ivory arch. His polished boot taps unhappily against the tile.

“Let me have them,” Li Jing says, tempering his voice to only mild unhappiness,” and then prepare their chambers- this time, add those “precautions” we previously discussed.”

He’s… working on his flaws. Slowly. Having your realm nearly dissolve in a fit of rumbling chaos struck Jing hard enough to inspire an honest attempt to improve himself.

So Li Jing was making slow strides to be kinder, and gentler, and Ne Zha was adjusting in turn be more open to the man his father was becoming.

And they had decided to expand their family with the newest addition to the Celestial Realm, a little witch who had strange powers and an unhappy past. Maybe, through “fixing” you, the improvement of their fractured family tree would come sooner.

“Yes, Father,” the prince obediently replies. He keeps his voice calm and neutral- though there is clearly worry bubbling under the surface. He carefully sets you into his father’s arms, then watches you for a moment to ensure that all is well. Then he bows to Li Jing, before preparing to take his leave.

“And, ah, son?”

“Yes, Father?” The prince asks, pausing. His back is turned, but Ne Zha tilts his head a fraction- listening to hear more from Li Jing.

“…good work."

Those two words send a chill through the prince’s blood. Praise was not entirely foreign to Ne Zha’s ears- but it was rare. Few and far between were the times when his father would compliment him. He’s silent for several long moments, letting the words sink in. It’s odd, the way they set his gut rolling like a stone in a river.

Finally, the prince swallows, and dips his head in reply.

“Thank you, Father.”

From here on, things would be better between them- even if your potential “betterment” was the vehicle they used to drag themselves across the finish line.

So be it.

[anjee0]

A Melody from the Heart

Chapter 4 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏ

Female!reader x Eminem (Feel free to put in your own oc insert as well)

Description - Y/n is struggling artist who decides to perform at an event hosted by MTV where a bunch of celebrities will be watching in person. Marshall is invited and is immediately captured by Y/n's beautiful voice. Now all he wants is for her to be on his next song.

Warnings - no warnings

Y/n watched as droplets of rain raced down the limo window and patted against it with soft thumps. She felt the warm heating of the car embracing her in a warm hug as she stared out at the private jet in front of her. Marshall would come out soon and take her in. The thought brought a wave of anxiousness over her. Her foot shook against the floor in a rhythmic pattern as she waited in anticipation.

A few moments later, the door of the plane opened as a set of stairs came out. Marshall appeared from above the stairs, looking at Y/n through the window. His face was stern and serious, sending a shiver of tension down her spine. Suddenly, a tall man in a suit opened the door and looked down at her.

“Mr Mathers would like you to board now.” The man said.

Y/n nodded nervously and gulped before making her way out of the car. She made her way to the plane and up the stairs as the man followed behind with her suitcases. Her fingers were trembling from the cold and her legs were shaking with agitation. 

“Y/n,” Marshall greeted. “How was the ride here?” he asked as he looked towards the limo.

“It was great.” Y/n responded timidly, her voice laced with jitters.

“Good. Let’s get in.” 

They both sat in seats opposite each other with a small table between them. Light jazz music played through the speakers, giving the plane an atmosphere that felt cozy. Even with the comfortable ambience, Y/n could still feel the nervousness lingering in the air. She fiddled with her fingers, which were sticky with sweat, in hopes it could calm her down.

“How are you feeling?” Marshall asked.

“Nervous. I don’t know what to expect.”

“Don’t be scared. Like I said, I totally understand why you’re feeling that, but you’ve nothing to worry about, okay?”

His words were a small pat on the back, giving some amount of relief to Y/n. It didn’t get rid of her anxiousness fully, but it helped her feel somewhat better. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Marshall nodded and kissed his teeth before looking out of the window. “We’ll take off in a few. Have you eaten yet?”

“Had breakfast.”

“What did you eat?”

“A slice of toast with butter.”

“Is that enough for you?”

“I think so.”

“If you ever get hungry, tell me. We have food.”

“How long’s the flight?”

“About an hour and a half.”

Y/n nodded and looked down at the floor. “I think I’ll be fine then. Thank you though.”

10 minutes passed before the pair were both told to fasten their seatbelts. It was Y/n’s first time on a plane, so she wasn’t sure what to expect. The plane shook as it drove across the runway, making her hands hold tightly onto the seat rests until the tips of her fingers turned pink. She noticed how relaxed Marshall looked as he stared out the window. After a few moments, the plane took off and was flying up. Y/n felt her stomach drop as her heart thumped loudly in her chest. A few seconds later, the plane felt steady again as her body relaxed in her seat.

“First time on a plane?” Marshall asked, averting his gaze to her.

“Yeah.” Y/n responded with a shaky voice.

“And lucky you, your first time gets to be on a private jet.” 

“Yeah. That’s great.”

A minute or two later, a lady in a beige turtleneck top and red blazer and pencil skirt appeared with a bright smile on her face. “Miss Y/l/n, Mr Mathers. Can I get you anything to drink perhaps? Or any snacks?”

“Hey Linda,” Marshall replied. “Can I get that white peach flavoured sparkling water please? You have those sandwiches too right?”

“Yes sir, we do. I’ll get you that right away. And for you ma’am?” Linda turned her head to Y/n and shot her a charming smile. 

Y/n felt her words being lodged up in her throat as she searched through her head for a response. Her eyes darted over to Marshall, a silent call for help.

“Do you want the same as me?” He asked.

Y/n felt a wash of relief from Marshall's save. “Sure, what's in the sandwiches?”

He listed the ingredients included in the sandwich and Y/n nodded, indicating that she would take it. 

A few minutes later, Linda came back with the two cans of sparkling water and sandwiches. She placed them down on the table carefully. “Enjoy.” She said before walking back to the back.

Y/n took a bite of the sandwich and was absolutely thrilled by the taste. It was cold, but had a burst of flavour to it too. It felt delightful on her mouth, something she never thought a sandwich could bring. 

“It's good, right?” Marshall asked.

“Yeah, really good.” Y/n replied.

“Try the sparkling water. Tastes just as great.”

Y/n cracked open the can, listening to the satisfying snap and sizzle. She took a sip and immediately fell in love. It was fizzy but it had a distinct sweet flavour that made it all the better.

“Yeah, this is really good.” Y/n said.

After they finished their food and drinks, Linda came back to take their rubbish. They both basked in the odd silence that hung in the air until Marshall decided to speak up.

“Forgot to tell you but Paul, my manager, found a good record label for you and a great manager. We're gonna meet her when we touch down. If you don't like her, we can always find you a new one.”

“Wow, thank you so much, that's great. What's my manager's name?”

“Cindy. She's a friend of Paul's and she's phenomenal. She'll get you shorted out in a matter of time.”

“That's great. Thanks again.”

“When did you decide you wanted to do music?”

“I think I was 4 or 5. I have a really faint memory of walking past this TV display outside a shop. I remember seeing a singer performing on stage, I just fell in love immediately.”

“That's nice. You know, I really believe that your songs deserve more attention. I've been playing your album ‘Lucid Dreams’ on repeat.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, kinda shocking, not my style of music. But the way you do it is just so unique. I love it.”

“Thank you. That's a lot to process…”

“I'm sure it is. Are there any other artists that inspired you?”

“Well, other than you, there were a few pop artists.”

“Like who?”

“Britney Spears,” Y/n paused for a moment before quietly saying: “Christina Aguilera…”

Marshall chuckled slightly at Y/n's cautious tone. “It's fine. The whole thing happened ages ago.”

“I remember my friends telling me I had to pick either you or her.”

“Oh really?” Marshall's lips curled into a small smirk. “And who did you choose?”

“I chose you.”

“Oh, you did?”

“I knew you for longer. I preferred your stuff anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, spent ages trying to memorise your songs.”

“Did you ever get around to it?”

“I knew all of your first four albums by heart.”

“Wow, well look at you!”

“Played them on repeat. Every single day, every single second. Even in school during lessons.”

“During lessons? Not even I would do that, and I'm a dropout.”

“So am I.”

Marshall raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in slight surprise. “Huh, you don't seem like the type.”

“So do you.”

Time ticked by and soon enough, they had landed in Detroit. The landing was slightly bumpy and shook the plane, automatically making Y/n grip the armrests again. She smiled awkwardly at Marshall, pretending that she wasn't scared to death from the landing. She quickly received a slow nod from him before he exhaled and got up.

They both left the plane, and were immediately greeted with the cold and chilly air of Detroit. Y/n shivered from the shuddering atmosphere. She followed Marshall into a limo and breathed in the warm ambience of the car as she got in.

“Cindy will be here soon. We're just waiting for her.” Marshall said.

“Okay, yeah, thanks.” Y/n replied.

They waited in silence for a few minutes before a faint knock on the window echoed through the limo. Marshall opened the door, being greeted by Cindy. 

“Hey everyone. Hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long.” She said as she got in.

“You're just on time.” Marshall replied.

“That's lovely.” She said as she fixed up her hair. “So, you're Y/n, yes?” She took out her hand for Y/n to shake.

Y/n gave her a firm handshake, silently wishing that Cindy wouldn't notice how sweaty her hand was. “That's me.”

“Well, I'll be your manager. I've heard a lot about you, and let me just say, you are very talented. I can't wait to work with you.”

“Thank you so much. I can't wait to work with you too.” Y/n replied as she felt the nervousness spill through the cracks of her voice.

“Well, we're gonna drop Cindy off at her place then we'll head to mine.” Marshall said.

The car ride to Cindy's place was vibrant, with her asking questions to Y/n to get to know her better. Her smile was contagious and her energy was buzzing with optimism and enthusiasm. Y/n tried her best to answer each one with a decent answer, but each time she felt like she had just said something stupid. 

“Well, this is me.” Cindy said and the limo stopped in front of a large white mansion. “We'll meet tomorrow to discuss and arrange some important things. Hope you enjoy it here.” She said as she stepped out of the car.

Y/n nodded and smiled at Cindy before awkwardly waving her off. She subtly glanced over to Marshall whose gaze was already fixed on her. 

“You like her?” He asked.

“She's nice. I like her.” Y/n replied.

He gave a brief nod before the both of them reverted back to silence. The only sounds were the faint cars driving past and the soft pitter patter of the rain. 

When they eventually reached Marshall's mansion, Y/n was completely awestruck as she climbed out the limo and examined the exterior of the house. It looked elegant, classy and it was unbelievably large. 

“Wow…” Y/n admired in complete awe. “I mean, I've seen pictures but this is just phenomenal.”

“Thank you. I've had it for quite a while now.” Marshall replied. “Well, come on in.”

The inside was just as extravagant as the outside. It was too minimalistic and it wasn't over the top either. The interior looked cosy and calm, giving a tranquil atmosphere.

“It's just as beautiful inside.” 

“Thank you. Let me show you my studio.”

Marshall brought Y/n upstairs to a small hallway. It was different from the rest of the house, it felt more enclosed and professional. When she entered, she immediately fell in love. She'd never seen such an authentic studio like Marshalls in person before. The walls were made of wood and soundproof blocks. There were also posters of his albums hung up. 

Y/n's eyes fell over the control board, as she examined every button on it. Her gaze moved to the recording booth, she couldn't believe she'd be doing her recording in there for the next few months.

“This looks phenomenal. When do we start?” Y/n asked as she turned to look at Marshall.

“Well, I'll let you get settled in for a few days. Then we can get down to business.”

“Oh yeah. That sounds good.” Y/n replied, fighting the urge to not reply with a lyric from his song Business.

“You alright?”

“I'm great.”

A moment of silence hung in the air before a notification went off from Marshall's phone. He took it out and realised someone was outside his door.

“Oh, I forgot, my assistant Grace was coming over to drop some papers. Come with me, you can meet her.” He said.

Y/n agreed and followed Marshall down back to the front door. The door opened to a professional young lady, not too far for Y/n's age. She had a slicked back bun, sharp eyeliner and bold red lipstick. 

“Your papers, Marshall.” She said, her voice slightly toned with flirtation.

“Thank you, Grace.”

Her eyes moved behind Marshall to Y/n. She narrowed her eyes as he lips curled into a subtle smirk.

“Is this uh, Y/n?” She asked.

“That's me. Nice to meet you.” Y/n replied nervously.

“Hm, Marshall can I talk to you?” 

Before he could even reply, Grace had already dragged him outside and slammed the door in Y/n's face. The loud slam echoed through the house as Y/n stood in front of the door, basking in the now silent house. 

“What was that about?” Marshall asked.

“I have a bad feeling about her.” Grace said.

Y/n swallowed the small lump forming at the back of her throat. She could still hear their muffled voices from the other side. 

“What makes you say that?” Marshall asked.

“She's a random girl from a live TV event. You can't trust her.”

Y/n felt her stomach drop as she heard Grace's cold words. What if Marshall agreed with her and would cut Y/n off? What if he then started to see Y/n as untrustworthy and get rid of her. She waited patiently for his answer as sweat trickled down her forehead.

“Listen, I understand why you think that but I have a great feeling about this. I know this isn't like me, but I want you to trust me, okay? This is a good idea.”

Y/n let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding as she felt a sense of relief wash over her. She felt a growing spread of fond warmth in her heart as she heard those words. Her lips formed a smile, letting a small chuckle escape her lips.

“Do you want to join us for lunch?” Marshall asked.

“I'm alright. Thank you though. I'll see you around?” Grace said before she started away.

As Marshall opened the front door again, Y/n acted like she didn't hear anything as she tried to keep her composer. “Everything okay?” She asked.

“Everything's fine. Want to head down to Mum's Spaghetti? We can get some lunch and talk.” Marshall offered.

“Sounds good.” Y/n said, feeling a flower of happiness blooming in her heart.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Wonder what the stone royals reaction to Shadowpeach is, specifically, the extremely rocky relationship Macaque and Wukong have and how the two can't go two seconds without bickering, yet would immediately drop everything to protect the others the moment any danger appears. They don't have the context of Macaque being a redeemed villain or how those two had a nasty breakup and only just recently reconciled the Noodle Gang has

They are delighted but concerned???

You see; Prince Shihou and Prince Liu'er have had a "hey, a love match arranged marriage would be cool"-situation going on for a long time. Something that they've have been aware of since cubhood.

BUT they had a little falling out with that whole "Brotherhood" business and some foot-in-mouth comments by each other;

Actual version of their "under the mountain"-breakup:

Wukong: "WOW. And I thought I fumbled!" Shihou, face in hands: "Can we please change the subject?" Macaque, remembering the Scroll: "In your defence, peaches, I had been a little unreasonable." Wukong: "Aw, thanks plums. Only took you 2000 years." Macaque: "Would you have preferred never?" Wukong: "I would have preferred it before we nearly killed each other!" Wukong & Macaque: (*new heated argument about the past ensues!*) Shihou: "Um... are they ok? Should we call somebody or...?" MK, unconcerned: "Oh yeah, they're ok. This is how they lead up to flirting." Wukong & Macaque: (*argument quickly turns into frustrated yelling and crying, ending with a passionate hug and kissing*) Shihou: "Wow. You were not lying." MK: "Unfortunately. So many training sessions cut short..."

Ultimately the alternate stone royal family are happy that their elder son still managed to find his soulmate despite fate trying to pull them apart at every turn.... but they aren't entirely used to all the cat-fighitng.

The Stalwarts: (*have been Shihou's and Liu'er's friends since childhood.*) Marshal Ma: "Nah. This is totally in character." General Beng: "Only difference is that Liu'er isn't wearing a dress." Marshal Liu: "And has his adult fur." General Ba: "It's so silky! Like the night sky!"

[dear-slim]

pumpkin spice - m.m

Warnings: Smut, 18+, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), spicy spicy sex 🤭, multiple orgasms, hot hot hot, voyeurism

Pairing: Eminem x fem!reader

A/N - spoky 🎃👻 (yes, I’ve quite literally copy and pasted this from my main blog, don’t come at me, Idc. This is set in the modern day but with 2000s eminem coz I can’t be bothered to change the plot, sorry not sorry.

also if it says ‘lando/lan’ anyways, it’s meant to be em, I literally copy and pasted it from my other blog smh

 “A couple’s outfit would be cute,” you said, scrolling through your Pinterest feed, a few cute outfits of Mario and Princess Peach, as well as Disney themed ones. “I wasn’t exactly intending to go for ‘cute’,” Em said, sitting beside you.

He was in some random black hoodie of his, the hood pulled over his curls as he watched you scroll on your laptop. “Then what?” you gave him a huff, your lip pushed out in a pout. “I was thinking something along the lines of hot,” he mused with a shrug, taking a sip of his pumpkin spice latte.

“Men should apologise to women for saying this is bad,” Em hummed, lifting the cup to your lips as you took a sip. “I agree,” you said, letting him take control of the keyboard, holding the warm cup in your hands as he searched for an outfit. “Call it cliche, but I’d look hot as the Joker,”.

“…I’m gonna call it cliche,”.

But finally, after a whole week of him persuading you not to dress up as Jasmine and Aladdin, you settled on being the Harley Quinn to his Joker. The Halloween party was fire, some friends dressed in outfits, ranging from extreme to merely some makeup.

Em himself had scrunched his hair with green dye that he could wash out the next day, face smeared with white paint, his lips stained with red colour, in the classic joker suit. And fucking hell, he looked really hot.

“What are you doing??” you hissed as you felt his hand on your waist, guiding you away from the dim, purplish-blue lights, his face illuminated with streaks of pink light shedding on his perfect features. “You look so hot,” he mumbled, taking in your shirt and little skirt.

“So do you,” you said, your boots clicking as he pulled you into the bathroom, shutting the door. “We’re not doing a bathroom fuck,” you huffed as he rolled his eyes. “I never said I was planning on it,” he pointed out as you let out an amused giggle.

“Your body language implied it. Heavily,” you said with a scrunch of your nose as he gave your sides teasing squeeze. “My body language says just you fucking wait til we go home,” he hissed into your ear, the sudden shift between playing and lust evident as your breath hitched.

Yet, before a word could be spoken, he left. God, Marshall Mathers was nothing short of a little damn tease. And he knew it so fucking well, sometimes you just wanted to…you didn’t even know. But thanks to him, you couldn’t party and jump anymore, your thighs squeezed together with heat.

“Em,” you said, reluctantly grabbing your boyfriend’s wrist as he turned to you, one of his hands clasping a red plastic cup, “can we go now?”. He cocked his head, a smirk threatening to jump to his features. “Home?” he said, voice almost mocking.

“Oh but baby,” he said, the pet name almost tantalising and hitting straight to your core, “I’m not done partying,”. This little shit!? “Em,” you hissed, a little annoyed at his teasing as he mimicked your half-pout. He pulled you close to him, your hips swaying in time with the music as he held your hips…or rather, your thighs.

He knew fully one his hands were almost under your skirt, as he dragged his fingers down to toy with your wet core, your panties warm with your heat, legs throbbing and desperate. “Em, we’re in public,” you said, eyes wide as he circled your clit through your panties.

“I know that,” he said, rolling his eyes, “just wanna feel how wet my girl is,”. You whined, trying your hardest not to grind down on his hand as he clucked his tongue. “Needy thing,” he said, “go to the bathroom,”. At his words, your eyes lit up, was he gonna give you what you wanted?

Nope.

Marshall Mathers, the man that he is. “Hey baby,” he said, digging his hands into his pockets as he walked in. You had positioned yourself sitting on the sink already, ready for him…your eyes travelling over his costume and how good his hair looked, scrunched in the green dye, a smirk on his handsome face.

“Got a little thing for you,” he thrusted a small device into your hands as you whined again. “Enjoy!” he called into the door before leaving. Little shit. You huffed, lifting one leg onto the sink and sliding the toy inside of you, a small moan on your lips. It didn’t make up the size of Em, but it’d work.

“Where’s the..?” you trailed off, frowning as you searched for the remote. Only for a sharp pulse to shoot into your core, your eyes rolling as you clung to the sink, the toy vibrating against your core. “You good, girl?” some other girl walked in, raising a brow to you as you nodded.

“Y-Yeah,” you breathed, forcing a smile to your face, “just had too much to drink is’all,” you said, words slurring a bit. The girls gave you a bit of a weird look as you left but you didn’t care, far too caught up in the fact that Em had the damn remote and was teasing the unholy fuck out of you.

“Em,” you whined, hands gripping onto his shoulders as he swayed your body, and you desperately tried to keep your face natural. “Too much f’you?” he smirked, “this isn’t what you wanted?”. God, did he always have to be a tease. “Shame, don’t wanna go trick or treating now, do you?”.

“Em, I swear to god, I’ll-,” you growled, only to be cut off by your own yelp as you buried your face into his neck, feeling the sharp intensity of the vibrator as he turned it up. “What you’re gonna do is you’re gonna shut your little mouth for now,” he said, “and you can open it when I want you to suck my dick,”.

“You’re not in the place to argue with me,” he added more firmly as you huffed but kept your mouth closed. You’d be damned than to go a Halloween night without his cock to ravage you. “Wanna nail you so bad,” he said, voice dropping to a huskier level, “but you’re gonna earn it by being quiet,”.

You nodded, body shuddering with need but said nothing, as he went back to swaying on the spot, taking a sip from his red cup. “This isn’t mine,” he said, his voice quiet in your ear, putting the cup down and taking another. “Em, please,” you whined, your legs quivering, “can we go home?”.

He rolled his eyes once again, his hand holding onto your forearm to support you as you squeezed your thighs together, the feeling of the toy against your sensitive skin sending your body in little shock waves. He clicked his tongue but took you out anyways, walking to the car.

“Can’t believe you made me leave the party,” he said with a sigh, which was very much fake. Both of you knew he’d rather be nailing you right now. You huffed, a pout on your lips, which only turned to a shriek as he turned the vibrator to the maximum. “Em! Don’t d-do it that h-high!” you tried to fumble for the remote, which he held out of your reach.

“I’m g-gonna c-cum before we’re e-even home!” you tried to argue as he thrust the remote into the backseat somewhere. “Good,” he said, “I need you all wet f’me when we’re home, I don’t have time to finger you,”. Admittedly, it was a hot idea, but all you could focus on was the moans of pleasure as your orgasm flooded through.

The psycho Joker costume really did fit him, then. You managed to stumble inside as he smirked, lifting you up easily, tossing the vibrator into some corner, as he dropped you on the bed, your body bouncing. It was evident you were a little exhausted, but nowhere near tired enough for you not to get on your hands and knees immediately.

“Well will you look at that,” he mused, “someone’s needy,”. But, instead of his tip pressing to your clit, your back arched and you moaned as his tongue came in contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves, replaced by his nose as he licked through your folds, his nose rubbing at your clit.

“Em, oh my-,” you cut yourself off with a moan as your body threatened to collapse, only stopped by his wrapping an arm round your waist to steady you as he pushed himself further between your folds, his tongue licking further through your sensitive skin, circling your entrance as he pushed inside of you.

You gasped again, subconsciously pushing yourself closer to him, his tongue swirling round inside of you collecting your juices as his lips coated in the stuff, his hand reaching for undo the top of your outfit. Sure, maybe this wasn’t a ghostface sort of thing, but it was alright, wasn’t it?

A gasp of half indignance and a whine left your lips as he moved away from you, straightening up. “Em,” you whispered, maybe he would give you what you wanted? He turned a blind eye to it, ignoring you as he watched a spider climb over the wall. “Em!” you whined again.

There was no way on Halloween night that he was going to leave you with your fingers, right? “Beg for it,” he said simply, another huff leaving your lips, “without the attitude,” he pinched your chin between his fingers harshly as you nodded. “Em,” you whined, your voice trying to convince.

“Can you go down on me? Please?” you begged as he hummed. “Could do,” he said with a shrug, making you more and more frustrated. “Em!” you started again, “please, I need you so bad, feel how wet I am,” you traced his finger through your folds. That was enough for him.

“Sit on my face,” he said, your eyes widening. You’d never done that before, but you needed him so mad, no matter what form he came in as he laid on the bed, his hands holding your thighs as you lowered down.

“All the way,” he tutted, pulling on your thighs as your clit made contact with his nose, his tongue pushed deep inside of you, reaching for the spot that made you scream his name, your hands bunching in his hair, your nails digging into his neck.

You knew he was okay with it, his eyes shimmering from beneath you as his lips moved under your folds, his tongue sliding in and out of you, as you slowly moved your hips. “That’s it,” he cooed, his voice deep and muffled beneath you as he coaxed you to ride his face, his nose buried in your clit.

You could feel yet another orgasm building inside of your stomach, quicker this time, almost like the last one had prompted off a domino effect, your eyes rolling as Em gave you full control, his tongue out, your core dripping with need and want. His hands reached up to your with your tits, slowly cupping them, teasing at the nipples with his thumbs as you moaned.

“Oh fuck, Em, right there,” you gasped, finding that point that made your toes curl, your eyes rolling back at the feeling. You looked over your shoulder, the growing bulge in his pants growing by the second as you turned around, reaching your hand under his belt, taking his heavy, thick cock in your palm.

His gasp went straight to your core, your hips grinding down, his nose and lips coated in your juices, slick and easy to move across him as you spread the precum leaking for, his tip across his length, tracing the vein along the underside of his cock with your free hand, all whilst moving across his face.

Your thighs squeezed round his head, your clit throbbing as your orgasm pushed through, your body limp and weak, hand movement across his rock-hard cock slowing down and becoming sloppier and sloppier. He sat up, holding you on his lap as you pumped his cock, moving your core along his bare thighs. God how needy could you be?

You’d teased him earlier, now he’d get his payback. You watched with narrowed eyes as he licked his fingers, your juices collected on his lips as he cleaned it off with his tongue. “I’m not here to just please you,” he said, moving his hips as if to say ‘I have needs too’. You might’ve sounded selfish, but you were desperate.

With a huff, you moved onto your knees, opening your mouth as he tutted. “Really? That’s all? You know that won’t fit,” he said, pushing your lips apart further. You gasped as he slid into your mouth, his cock heavy on your tongue, pushing your lips apart as he felt the bulge in your cheek.

His tip was pressed against the back of your throat, almost as if was letting you adjust - and just when you felt like your mouth was gonna explode, he pulled out, your small coughs and splutters filling the air. He pushed your head further, your small gagging sound against his thigh vibrating through his body. Tears began to form in your eyes from how hard he was pushing you, his cheeks flushed red with pleasure.

“Are you a slut, Y/N?” he asked, pulling you off of him as you gasped for air, the air smelling like sex, your eyes hazy and filled with slight tears from the strain as you nodded. “Yes,” you said, you didn’t need him to tell you to use your words as he hummed again. He was less rough, instead, bobbing your head up and down on the tip only, guiding your small hand to the base and pushing it up and down.

You gagged again, pushing more of him into your mouth. There was something about the way he gasped and his eyes rolled at your bold move...he turned his head to look down, your thighs squeezing together as he pushed them apart, eyes running over your wet folds once more.

Your back arched as he toyed around with your folds once more, circling your entrance with his thumb as you continued to bob your head, almost copying his movements on his cock. You whined as he pushed his longest finger into you, slowly pumping as your head fell a little onto his knee.

His other hand tangled in your hair, pushing you further down on his cock, a bulge forming in your throat as he fingered you, your cunt clenching round his digits. “Need my cock in you, do you?” he asked, to which you nodded, lips never leaving his cock. “Of course you do,” he scoffed, pulling you off of him by your hair.

You whined as he did so, your lips almost reaching to put him back on your tongue, the feeling of his heavy, thick cock against your tongue sending pulses into your core, but you weren’t complaining as he turned you round, pushing you over the bed, your ass against his cock as he groaned, pulling you back.

“Please, I need you,” you gasped, your hands balling into fists into the sheets as he hummed, reaching one hand round the front of you toy with your clit, your head falling into the mattress as he slid his cock inside of you, the pad of his thumb flicking over your slick bundle of nerves.

“Fuckin’ tight, aren’t you?” he groaned, your cunt clenching round his thigh member, the vein along the bottom throbbing against your entrance before he started moving, pulling all the way back so his head was hanging inside of you, before he plunged back inside of you, another moan on his lips.

“So full,” Em groaned into your ear, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he pulled one of your arms behind your back, holding it there as you dragged at the bedsheets, his hips moving slowly, each thrust picking up pace, as he moved his other hand out of your hair to squeeze at the flesh of your ass.

“Fuck, my favourite treat,” Em gasped, his voice hoarse and rough as he held you close to him, his chest pressing to your back, the scent of sweat and the sheen of his sweat on his skin evident in the air as you moaned, your cheeks flushed red, hair messy and disheveled.

“Daddy’s little monster, yeah?” Em groaned, picking up the shirt he’d thrust onto the side when he’d tore it from your body, thrusting it onto the bed in front of you as your pussy strangled at his cock, your hips moving to try and take all of him, earning yourself a sharp smack on the back of you ass.

A strangled moan left your lips at the feeling as he scowled, one hand wrapping round your throat as he pulled all the way out. You whined again, the sound muffled from Em’s hand as your cunt clenched round air, and you could practically feel the amused smirk playing on his lip.

Without warning, he pushed himself back into you again, pulling a loud shriek out of you, his thick length hitting resistance immediately. He muffled your moan let again, his fingers digging into your lips as he heard the doorbell suddenly. “The fuck-?” he asked, pulling out of you as you whined.

“Em,” you said, tugging at his hand as he stood up. “You can’t be that pathetic,” he said, very much nearly in disbelief that you couldn’t wait for his cock. “Fucking wait, and don’t you dare touch yourself,”. The doorbell went off again, the childish sound of ‘trick or treat’ ringing through the house as Em groaned.

“Behave,” he said, pulling his outfit back up properly and rushing down the stairs with the bowl of candy. You couldn’t help it, you needed to feel something, as you buried two fingers deep into your heat, not even making up half the side of his thick girth as you fucked yourself on your fingers.

“You little fucking-,” you gasped as Em glared at you, your fingers freezing deep inside your cunt, eyes wide. “Em, I-,” you were cut off as his hand reached to your hair, pushing you back onto the bed. “I don’t care,” he snapped harshly as you opened your mouth to speak.

A shriek left your lips as he plunged his cock once more into your cunt, welcomed with a wave of your juices. You were dizzy, breathless as he kept filling up your pussy with short, harsh strokes. Heavy grunts and growls accompanied the wet sounds of your sloppy holes getting fucked as he worked himself into a frenzy, your moans turning to squeaks.

His hips were moving to fast, ploughing in and out of you, you were sure you’d have bruises, and the ability to walk would be nothing but a damn myth to you. “You’re a fucking whore, Y/N,” Em growled into your ear as you whined. “I’m not a-,” you started.

“Shut the fuck up!” he snapped, landing a harsh smack onto your ass as you shrieked again. “Just shut up and take my cock,” he said, his chest heaving as his thrusts became sloppier, your cunt clenching round him as your orgasm hit, your body spasming with need, from what felt like your hundredth orgasm that night.

You’d lost count at that point anyways, as you shook, your arms shaking and hands clawing at the bedsheets as Em tightened his grip round your neck, his seed spilling into you, dripping out of your tight cunt, his cock hanging inside of you before he pulled out, a moan on your lips as he pushed his own cum back inside of you.

“Happy Halloween, baby,”.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemicrofic March challenge.

Five, Nine, Nine, Two

March Prompt: Pin | Word Count: 388 | Rating: G | CW: None | Tags: Established Relationship, Banter, Long-Term Relationship, Older Steddie, Still Together, But Still Pushing Each Other's Buttons

"What do you mean you don't remember your PIN? You created it!" Steve yells, and Eddie just keeps moving in front of the computer. Pacing. Fretting. Worrying his hands. 

"First off, I didn't pick it. They just gave it to me and I'm expected to remember it? It's, like, eight letters. Maybe some numbers. I don't know. I'm too old for this," Eddie rambles, staring at the computer screen. Like he can will it back to the forefront of his memory.

He doesn't remember. Can't. It's just gone, vaporized.

"You didn't write it down?" Steve snaps, digging around the cluttered desk, scattering a handful of crumpled Post-Its across the keyboard. "None of these are it?!"

"You told me to stop doing that, so I did!" Eddie argues back. Because Steve had forced him to stop writing down his passwords and PINs months ago, and now, well, this is what they have to show for it.

Eddie hums under his breath, trying to remember if he made up a little song about it or not. He does that sometimes. It helps.

"Stop singing under your breath and think!" Steve snaps, and Eddie waves his hands around his head, trying to get Steve to be quiet so he can concentrate.

"I am thinking!" Eddie yells, and then starts mumbling, singing under his breath, "Pineapple peach, dog frog, five-"

"Nine, nine, two…" Steve sings along with him, clearly annoyed, drawing out that two like it has seventeen letters instead of three. "You sang that stupid nonsense song all last week. I don't want it stuck in my head again, stop it!"

Eddie stops. Looks at Steve, "That's my password."

He taps the keyboard slowly, one hunt-and-pecked key at a time: PPDF5992.

And sure enough, they're in.

Steve kisses Eddie on the side of the head, then sits down, guiding the mouse cursor to the little applications message box that's lit up in the corner, indicating there's a response waiting.

"It's there," Steve says, mouse still hovering.

"Well, click it!" Eddie demands, putting both his hands on Steve's shoulders, squeezing, urging him on.

Steve clicks it.

Accepted.

Eddie shakes Steve's shoulders in excitement. They passed the home visit. The shelter is giving them a cat. And not just any cat, the most perfect cat Eddie has ever seen in his whole life.

I don't know why this was the first thing that came to mind, but it's definitely inspired by Marshall from How I Met Your Mother and his singing nonsense to remember his bar exam password.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! ❤️

[sunlightmurdock]

AETERNA | One

PROLOGUE | MASTERLIST

SYNOPSIS: TROUBLE COMES TO TOWN.

WARNINGS: smoking; the fic takes place in the 70s and so 70s era things will happen; smoking weed; mentions of sw as a joke; this fic has mature themes and is intended for adults, minors pls dni. spooky stuff. word count: 6312.

The summer in Atwood, Georgia, began as all summers in Atwood always had. Slow. Creeping in through the remaining breezes, blooms and spring showers. Fitting itself into the days so unsuspectingly. It never feels like it’s really summer until the sweat is already beading down your back and the girls’ skirts are an inch shorter than they were a year before.

There’s a spot around the back of Creekside Pines Retirement Village, covered by the shade of those namesake pines, where the girls who work there go to smoke. The Pines has been around longer than any of the residents currently in it; the Church started it decades ago and they made sure to keep it going.

Tucked under the shade of those thick, green pine trees, the branches provide a respite from the approaching early summer sun and also from your dirtbag boss, Conrad Wheelan.

Olive and you, you and Olive. Since Conrad hired you last September, the two of you have become quite the dynamic duo. Candy-striped partners in crime, experts at avoiding old guy sponge bath time. Smokers of cheap, gas station cigarettes. Gossipers of a truly impressive standard.

You’re sitting on opposite sides of the brick walls that bracket the stairs to the back door, your foot beside her hip and hers beside yours, your knees bent and a Marlboro between your index and middle.

“But anyway, I think she’s just jealous. He broke up with her for a reason.” Her face is veiled for a moment by tendrils of swirling cigarette smoke before the midday sun beams once again on her freckled face. She’s talking about a boy she has been fooling around with. He’s older, and he called off his engagement two months ago.

His ex really has it out for Olive. She’s a pretty little nurse at the local hospital. Her daddy went after the poor guy with a gun when the engagement broke. The ex went after Olive in the middle of Herb’s Wholefoods, shoved her right into the display of tinned peaches. But hey, your Mom got six dented tins for the price of one. Silver linings and all that jazz.

Your break was over twenty minutes ago, but the AC is broken and you’ve spent the morning choking on the smell of Eau de Old Lady — the smell of magnolias in bloom and Marlboros on fire are a much welcome change in pace.

Besides, your best friend is in crisis. She’s got a bruise the size of a not-tinned, regular ol’ peach in the middle of her back, a shattered ego, and apparently a new step-kid on the way.

“So, what’s he going to do about it?” You ask her, your face towards the sun, cigarette ash on the wall beside you.

“The baby? — I don’t know. She didn’t even want the kid until he told her he was leaving, now she’s suddenly Mother Theresa.” Olive says with a wistful sigh. Her older boyfriend got that girl in trouble and ran for the hills, but apparently he treats Olive like a princess. Your mother says she’s trouble, but you like her.

Girls like Olive will always pick the wrong kind of man. It’s that kind of No Man’s Land where human nature and fate come to make out — and that’s not Olive’s fault — she’s just at their will; like a puppet. Or a hamster on a wheel.

“You know, I think you’d make a pretty boss step-mommy.” You tell her, cocking your head the way that you do when you know you’re dancing right along her nerve endings. A smile creeps across your coral- glossed lips, revealing the coral-glossed ring they have left around the butt of the cigarette.

“Oh, bite me. You know I’d rather swap places with Hughie Marshall than get stuck raising her kid.” Olive scoffs out, flicking at the cigarette with a red painted nail and bending her bruised knees. That’s quite a thing to say around here.

You didn’t know Hughie, before. Not really. His dad was the principal of your high school, but you knew him after Hughie was already back.

Apparently before his accident, Hughie was a real stud. All-American with dark hair and a bright future. Then he stepped on a landmine in Cambodia; he wasn’t even supposed to be there by the official military statement. But he was.

He doesn’t leave the house anymore. His brain’s all mashed together and he’s got a metal plate in the left side of his head. One arm and no right foot, but worse than that — no jaw. Folks say it was taken clean off in the blast. They sent him out to California for a whole bunch of surgeries, but he still looks like a guy who has been pieced back together.

But Olive’s only kidding about wanting to be in his place. No one wants to be in Hughie’s place, especially not Hughie.

Her joke isn’t the kind of thing that needs to be laughed at, your polite exhale of amusement mixes with the soft rustle of leaves, a fleeting moment of rebellion against Dictator Wheelan and his reign of terror. Each smoky exhale carries whispers of things that would make your mothers shiver, but such is the way for two girls on the cusp of freedom.

In this hidden sanctuary, on the cusp of the woods, the two of you are a united front against the elderly residents of The Pines. Rather than the bell that signaled the end of your freedom in your school days, nowadays it’s the sound of heavy leather shoes on the linoleum that signal the end of your stolen respite.

“Shit.”

“Shit.” The two of you agree, stubbing out your cigarettes and leaping up from the walls, throwing the butts into the mess of fallen foliage at the side of the building.

And at once, Conrad swings open the fire escape door and finds the two of you standing there in your candy-striped aprons, white stockings and pristinely white shoes. Like butter wouldn’t fucking melt.

He’s a towering man, maybe six foot five in his prime, but he hunches a bit from his constant slouching at his desk. He was a red- head once, but now his hair has thinned to the point of scarcity, and he’s usually got a razor rash on his neck from shaving a bit too hastily in the mornings. He knows damn well that the two of you were out here slacking.

“Ladies,” He tries, his smile tight-lipped and half frozen, like a salesman who couldn’t quite make himself look human enough to get the job. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Halbert and Mrs. Knight could use some help in the dining room.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Wheelan.” Olive hits him back with a smile that comes much more naturally, and a cool shrug of her shoulders. She’s a real girl-next-door type. It’s why the wrong kind of guy likes her so much. You’re halfway certain that her killer smile and her long legs are the only reason that Conrad hasn’t fired her yet.

“Yes, sir.” You follow suit.

He allows the both of you to dip around him and just like that, you’re locked back in with the living dead. Old folks who seem just as confused as you about how they’re still hanging on. Oh, that’s mean, really — they aren’t so bad. They’re nice to you. You listen to them.

“I like it when you wear your hair like that,” Mrs. Knight tells you, sitting back uncomfortably. Her green eyes study you, her fingers curled around a shivering china teacup. “Much better than when it's down.”

You’ve learned by now that most of the compliments in this place come with a backhand. Your chin propped up on your palm, you answer her with an amused smile.

“Maybe you could do my hair like yours one day, June,” You suggest, stacking together the remnants of her lunch so that it’ll be easier to porter back to the kitchen. She used to own her own salon down on Mayfair Lane, your mother got her first haircut from June Knight. You shoot a look across the room at Arnie Knight, who is watching you care for his wife. “Teach me how to land a guy like Arnie.”

“Oh, honey — you know my Arnie’s one of a kind.” She giggles. Your mouth twists back into a grin. He sure is. He stormed the beaches in Normandy and still found it in himself to father seven kids once he made it back. In his day, Arnie sounds like he was a stud.

There aren’t too many studs left in Atwood these days. Those boys are either wandering hallowed halls, meat-heads that will be here forever or settled six feet under. Anyone more than four years older than you is either a war hero, or they’re like Hughie Marshall.

The ones that still wake up in Cole County aren’t the kind of boys you’ll be sharing your golden years with, anyway. No, you’ve got much bigger plans for your retirement.

Napa Valley, a sprawling house with burnt orange tile overlooking a vineyard withthat your silver-fox husband who tends to you while you enjoy the fruits of his labour and spend your afternoons tipsy, waiting for the party to start that evening. Far, far from the shade of the trees that line Marsh’s Creek, beside Creekside Pines Retirement Village.

That’s one day, though. For today, the excitement stretches as far as letting Billy Cline pick you up in his true blue 1965 Chevy short bed pickup. Just like most of the guys your age that are in this town, you’ve known Billy for a long time. Your mother still thinks of him as the sweet little boy with blonde curls and overalls.

He still wears overalls, but his blonde curls are now straighter, slicked back with a generous helping of pomade. He came right from work, the auto shop in town, to pick you up.

You change shamelessly in the passenger seat of his truck as he speeds along the old road out towards the Cole County airport, shoving your uniform into your bag and wriggling into the clothing you had smuggled past your mother.

“I’m not driving you home wearing that,” Billy chortles, eyes wide and already shaking his head as you pull the knitted halter neck over your chest, your lips pursed in concentration as you fasten the tie behind your neck. “I’ll stop at the Post Office and you can walk from there.”

Exhaling and kicking the bag into the footwell, you tug open the glovebox and start to root for the sunglasses you left in here last time.

“What? You don’t dig the orange?”

You know full well that Billy’s concerns about your outfit don’t start or end with the burnt orange color of your hot pants. He scoffs loudly beside you to agree as your fingers stumble across the little plastic baggie at the back of his glovebox.

“I don’t dig that your old man threatened to slash my tires last time he saw me rollin’ with you.”

That makes you laugh. You pluck the green from the glovebox and melt back into the blue suede seats Billy had spent all of last summer fixing up.

“Fred wouldn’t hurt you.” Your father talks a big talk sometimes, maybe that’s where you can get it from, but he likes Billy and he’s not the kind of father that spends his time worrying about which boy you’re messing around with. “Might trick you into doing some yard work for him, though.”

Straight, empty road for miles ahead, Bill turns his head and looks at the bag caught between your index and middle fingers, dangling toward him like the forbidden fruit itself.

“Great, so I’ll take you home high as a kite and dressed like a hooker and he’ll invite me to water his gardenias.” He hums, reaching out and snatching the bag from you. He still has every intention of lighting up, but he knows there’s a pothole about a mile ahead and the last time he let you roll up along this road wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Come on, Bill — now,” Your white canvas sneakers are still discarded in the footwell, you kick your bare feet up onto the dash. “That’s no way to talk to your best chance at ever getting laid, is it?”

There’s a fondness in the way he rolls those steely-blue eyes at you. There’s no real destination at the end of this long, empty stretch of road. There are one of four possible spots for the two of you to pick from.

Just far enough from Conrad Wheelan, and your father’s gardenias, and the Cole County sheriff's department for the two of you to crawl into the bed of the truck, light up and wait for time to pass.

It’s no way to spend summer, really. But this is the last May that your afternoons will look like this. Next May, you’ll be thinking about Olive and Billy from the Paramount Pictures backlot. Maybe Warner Brothers, you’re not in a position to be too picky.

As a kid, you had sworn that you would pack your things and head for the hills the day that you turned eighteen. Things hadn’t worked out quite that way, but now, you’ll be sitting in the Malibu sunshine before you turn twenty-three.

“Who the fuck is that?”

You drop the bag onto the bench and follow Billy’s eyes towards the rearviewrear view mirror, fully prepared to see your Uncle Paul’s police cruiser coming up behind you. Instead, you’re met with the picture of a very small heavy hauler. Cherry-red, coming over the hill like hell on wheels. It’s illegal to drive that fast, even out here. Especially in something that big.

The house that you pass on the left has two young kids who live there, and the Whistler family let those kids play in that unfenced yard all day long. A big, red truck coming along this country road that fast… bye, bye Whistler family.

“Fuckin’ maniacs.” Billy mutters, frowning and shaking his head. It almost makes you smile. William Cline, slipping back into the weepy little boy he had once been, a stickler for the rules back then. But you don’t have time to smile.

Your knees push up onto the suede, your palm flattening against the back window, sticking to the glass with a squeak as you slide it open. That cherry red truck is a lot clearer without the filter of dust and dirt between you, and a lot less small now that it’s getting closer.

“Probably late for a delivery or something. It’s gonna try to pass you.” You realise, resting your arms over the back of the bench. Billy almost forgets why that’s important as he glances across at the way those burnt orange shorts flex around your ass.

He swallows, checks the rear-view mirror and remembers the sharp bend coming up. There aren’t any signs and it kind of comes out of nowhere, and if this jerk tries to overtake him on it, his truck is going to wind up in a ditch.

He eases his foot onto the break and considers just stopping all together, biting the inside of his cheek. Out of towners. The truck grows bigger and bigger, the engine rumbling like a growl, until it’s close enough that you can see the man behind the wheel. His hair is longish and feathery, jet-black and his face is half covered by a pair of green lensed sunglasses.

By his side is a kid, already looking at you. She has long blonde hair tied back in two braids, and a strange look on her face. Like she is excited to see you. She sits forwards in her seat and cocks her head sharply to the side, her eyes tracking you as the truck whizzes by. The sharp motion makes you pull back swiftly from the window.

Her head twists to follow until she’s out of your view and you’re blinking at the painted trailer being hauled by the truck. Maverick’s Cabinet of Mysteries. A circus. Red and white stripes and a big, shining yellow font.

“Did you see that kid?” The words spill from your lips as you brace one hand against the dashboard, watching the rest of the truck whizzes by, trying to blink that awful, jerky, movement of her neck from your mind.

“What? — No, I saw that jackass almost take my side view mirror with him.” Billy huffs out angrily, putting his foot back on the gas the second that giant trailer is past him.

It’s not the only one. Right behind the first, is another truck that appears identical. You don’t get a look at the driver, just the red and white stripes and Maverick’s Cabinet of Mysteries in that shiny red and gold font.

“Who even goes to the frickin’ circus anymore?” Billy’s care for his truck spills out in bitterness as he steadies the wheel and watches the second truck be succeeded by a third. All three of them, red and gold and white death traps, growling as they speed along the road ahead of you.

The cold feeling from the first truck has passed by, now you’re at the mercy of the sun being at its highest point, casting out heat like a blanket, warming the cab of the truck like a greenhouse.

Twisting in your seat, your lips twitch as you find that the three cargo trucks aren’t unaccompanied. Behind them is a string of vehicles, lead by a pretty far-out Chevy camper with rad burnt orange racer stripes along the side.

You look back at Billy over your shoulder. “We could.”

It’s not like there is much else to do around this place. Beats the regular Friday tune of heading down to the Empire movie theatre by Lane Street and sipping at a sugary, fizzing coke while watching a Western.

As the camper draws closer, your gaze locks on to the two people sitting in the front. A dark haired woman, her lips red and round, sucking on a lollipop with her bare feet kicked up onto the dash. Her sunglasses hide her eyes, but you know she’s looking at you.

It’s almost at the speed limit, not quite at the same terrifying speed as the trucks ahead but still warranting a ticket. In the driver’s seat is a real stone fox, broad and tanned with sunkissed brown caramel-curls and a real Burt-Reynolds-in-100-Rifles kind of moustache.

They’re driving with the windows down, cooled by the breeze in their hair like they aren’t icy enough already. Her sunglasses are round and plastic-framed, with orange lenses. So cool— so California. And him too.

Even with his more standard gold-framed caravans, his barely buttoned blue short sleeve and the equally caramel coloured dusting of chest hair spilling out, he looks like a movie star.

You’re barely aware of Billy crushing your idea beside you. “Me? — Nah. Sorry, sister, no way — lame, lame, lame.”

Doesn’t matter, you’ll be going with or without him if Mr. Movie Star is going to be there.

His white camper with the orange stripes gets close enough for you to realise that it’s not just her looking at you, he is too. It’s a little narcissistic to assume that it’s for any reason other than the way you’re already staring at them, but the thought of the two of them liking what they see — thinking maybe you could look like them — makes your coral lips stretch.

Up close, you can hear the blaring sound of their radio. A guitar riff that you remember from somewhere deep in the back of your mind, something you know you’ve heard many times before but just can’t place.

You follow them, magnetized by the draw of their eyes, planting a palm right between Billy's greased overall thighs and leaning across the bench to keep staring through the rolled-down driver’s side window.

The raven-haired woman pushes the lollipop into the hollow of her cheek and tells him something. You can’t hear it over the sound of their radio blaring out. He responds with a just-can’t-help-it kind of grinning chuckle, turning his head to look across at you.

The door was open, and the wind appeared.

The candles blew, and then disappeared.

The curtains flew, and then he appeared.

Sayin’ “Don’t be afraid.”

On all fours, looking at him like he’s the new guy at the zoo.

Come on, baby (and she had no fear).

And she ran to him (then they started to fly).

They looked backward and said goodbye (she had become like they are).

Heat gathered across your skin, that knitted late summer sunset coloured halter stretched tight across your chest, scandalous by the standards of Atwood — downright foxy if you ventured further west.

Your hair has been freed from the tidy updo that Conrad Wheelan prefers it to be in while you’re working, but not quite tamed after that. Wild and free, as the wind whips through it.

As if to try to contain your grin, you sink your teeth into the coral of your bottom lip, beaming at him anyway. Then, you lift the hand that isn’t settled between Billy’s thighs, and wiggle your fingers at him in greeting.

“What the hell are you doin’? — I can’t even see the road!” Billy complains.

Mr. Movie Star couldn’t have heard him, but he shoots a look at the complaining driver anyway. Then, his attention is yours again. Still smiling that amused smile, he lifts a tanned arm from its perch against the open window ledge, and throws up a loose peace sign across the stretch of road between you. His passenger laughs around her lollipop.

”Sayin’ hello. It’s polite.” You tell him back.

Between his obnoxious music, the wind whipping between the cars, and the equally polite indoor voice you had spoken in, there’s no way that Mr. Movie Star could have possibly heard you. He laughs like he had.

With that, the camper passes by. It takes the song and the blaring guitar with it, the rhythmic picking carrying across the flat stretches of road. It’s got tinted windows all around the sides and back. A real pussy wagon, you bet. Mr. Movie Star has probably seen a lot of action in the back of that van. Queue the wistful sigh from you. If you could just stop from grinning.

“Get off. C’mon, put your seatbelt on or something.”

“He was really something, don’t ya think?” You say, still grinning dumbly as you retreat back to the designated passenger’s spot, tracking the camper along the old stretch of Airport Road.

“Yeah, yeah — mellow out before you ruin my seats.” Billy grumbles, frowning at his side-view mirror. Six more vehicles to go; none of them drive quite as wild as those first couple of big trucks.

“How long d’you think they’re in town for?” You prop one elbow against the side of the door and plant your chin atop your palm, staring after the camper as you kick your feet across Billy’s lap. “You think it’s like an all- summer deal or just a couple of weekends?”

Billy shoots a steely look across the cab.

Sure, he was kind of a weedy kid. Small for his age, with a mom who was rarely more than a stone’s throw away. He’s not bad looking. Stick thin with a long, straight nose but pretty blue eyes. There’s usually motor oil in his blonde hair these days.

Either way, he hadn’t always exactly been the pick of the litter but with the war and stuff, he’s not such a bad option these days.

And still, you’ve had him benched in the friend zone since freshman year. Both of you know that it’ll just take an especially dry season for you to finally do him, and you are good company, he likes having you around.

He doesn’t like the douchebag with the ‘stache moving in on the closest thing he has to a girlfriend.

“They might stop by The Pines — you know, like those folks from the fair did, that one time.” you’re really talking to yourself at this point.

Billy looks across, unimpressed as he’s overtaken by a 1959 Ford F-100, painted a faded shade of light green.

Three people are crammed into the cab, and as it slips in front of you, you find that the bed of the truck is also occupied.

Two girls and one hell of a guy. He’s sitting with his back to the cab, shirtless and golden all over with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a hand of cards held to his chest.

The two girls are wearing little tanks and coloured hot pants, conferring with each other while he watches, cool as ice.

He’s grinning, a smooth talker even when you can’t hear what he’s saying. It’s not money that he’s talking those poor girls out of either, that’s why one of them proudly has his t-shirt balled up in her lap.

“Mrs. Cavendish would have a cow if—“ your rambling trails and your smile spreads as Golden Boy looks up from his poker game and finds you watching. “Whoa. Where are they finding these dudes?”

“Probably jail,” Billy mumbles, begrudging the topless wonder in the back of the truck. “Or a register of some kind, if you catch my drift.”

Golden Boy’s lips stretch thin around his hand-rolled cigarette, his grin dimpling his cheeks. Totally jiving with the way you’re staring at him, stretching his already broad shoulders like a peacock would with its feathers.

He’s a sandy kind of blonde and maybe even more of a movie-star looker than his buddy had been.

He tips his chin and graces you with a nod of acknowledgement. Then, he looks down at the hand of cards and closes his lips around the cigarette, inhaling deeply.

With a cool shrug, he cocks an eyebrow and seems to dare his two lady companions to put their money where their mouths are.

Billy glances down at the bag of green still on the bench between the two of you, practically starting a mental countdown until the two of you are out by the Falls, high as kites. Far from tanned, muscled carnie folk.

The trucks and cars pass by and head for the horizon, and Billy’s blue Chevy hugs the curves of winding country roads all the way out past Route Thirteen. Past Airport Road, there’s no sign of your two new objects of affection — given the heat of the late afternoon, you’re starting to wonder if all of them were a mirage or something.

That’s what the boys who come back from war tell you they saw out there. Apparitions in the jungle, like ghosts, but nice. Tommy Holdman says he thought he had died out there, laying flat on his back after he lost his leg, and all he could see was miles and miles of coastline. A perfect, pretty beach. His own idea of heaven.

Yours, apparently, is something far different.

The Falls isn’t really a waterfall. It’s maybe a ten- foot slow incline in the river bend. It’s shitty enough to not draw too many visitors, unlike the much more popular swimming spot out where the old quarry is. That place would be packed on an afternoon like this.

Your spot is on the far end of the county, nestled a while back off the road but not too far into the woods. It’s a spot to cool off without having to commit to really swimming, and it’s the only spot you know where the fuzz wouldn’t come poking around at the smell of skunk.

No one comes out here, not even the cops.

The afternoon is all yours, right through into the evening. It didn’t take Billy long to get over his mood, he’s grinning when he drops you off, right by your front door.

There’s no way he would make you walk all the way from the Post Office, not really. Everyone’s heard those stories of girls going missing in small towns like this, and through all of her faults, Betty Cline had raised a pretty stand-up young man.

“See ya Tuesday, I’ll call you!” You wave to him as you jog up the front steps onto the porch of your parents’ home.

He waves back from the driver’s side of his truck, and drives home to his mother’s roast chicken the same way he always does. She still packs his lunches too.

Fred looks up from Hawaii Five-O, in all of its multicoloured, static-fuzz glory as the screen door rattles to an abrupt shut. He flinches as the heavier, wood front door slams behind it.

“Look at that, she is alive.” He calls from the living room, for your ears more than anyone else’s.

“Hi, Papa Bear. You worrying about me again?” You coo, kicking your shoes off by the door and strolling across the hardwood, bracing yourself on the doorframe as you swing widely into the parlour, where Fred sits in his recliner, staring at his prized possession — the color TV set he bought after the new year.

“Worryin’ about you is like worryin’ the fox might hurt itself on its way out of the coop.”

You don’t much mind the image of yourself, the sly fox, prowling around town and making all of those chicken-shit boys cry for help. Your mouth almost twitches at the thought as you plonk yourself down on the carpeted floor and turn your attention towards Steve McGarrett saving the day.

Clearly at some point after you have nestled onto the carpet with your back to him, Fred clocks the outfit you have wandered home in.

“Now, where’d the hell did you even buy somethin’ like that?” You can hear the wrinkled frown on his aging face. He’s only in his fifties now, but with deep wrinkles and freckles from years working outside.

“Church-sale, I think.” You answer back, wondering if your mother is still up. She goes to bed early on weeknights so that she can be up early for her work at the grocery store in the mornings.

Fred lost his sense of smell when he worked in the mines in his late teens — he couldn’t tell the difference if you smelled like Mary-Jane or magnolias.

“You were with that kid from the auto shop again?” Fred puffs on cigarettes like a chimney. It turns the white ceilings brown occasionally, but your Mom has always been ready with a tin of cloud-coloured paint to fix that.

“Uh-huh. You know Billy.”

“Yeah.” He decides. There are worse boys you could be running around with than that teary-eyed fella.

“Saw a bunch of vans out by Airport Road today. Setting up a circus somewhere near here.” You tell him absently, both of you watching the television set as you pick at the carpet.

“Heard somethin’ about that. Gus O’Malley’s renting his south pasture out for something like that, I think.”

“I was thinking I could maybe borrow the car Saturday. Take Georgie.”

Georgie is an accident; an anniversary celebration turned rambunctious fifth grader with a knack for messing with your stuff while you’re at work. But he’s a cute kid, you’ll give him that. The little booger is fun to be around sometimes.

With Georgie around, there’s something to do other than head out of town and drink or smoke or spend the money that’s supposed to get you to California. If you take Georgie, Fred usually sponsors the trip.

“This Saturday?”

“Yeah. Figured they’d be running by then.” You lean your palms back into the rug, worn velvet under them. It doesn’t bother you that Fred barely turns his head from the television — before that, it had been the sports highlights in the paper.

“If you’re going to get him all hopped up on sugar, do me a favor and drop him off at Grandma’s on the way back.” Fred chortles, mostly to himself, as he brings a half-warm Budweiser to his mouth.

You smile at that, remembering the days Fred threatened to do the same to you. You grab at the knee of his faded blue jeans to push yourself up from the ground.

“Thought I might drop him off by the interstate, set him free. Like God intended.” You tell the house, headed for the hallway with the end goal being your bedroom on the second floor of the humble blue craftsman.

“I-59, not I-75. Can’t have him finding his way home.” Fred calls as you take the first step out onto the stairs, your fingers trailing your work bag, discarded onto the chipped wooden post that ends the railing.

“Now where in God’s name did you find those shorts?” Oh, she’s awake. Your mother’s voice is behind you, and if you had to guess you would imagine that her head is poking around the doorway into the kitchen and gawking at your fashion choices. She is.

“You went out wearing those?”

You stand, frozen on the stairs for a second, stuck in a moment of consideration. Fred’s pretending not to hear all this, he prefers not to get involved. Joan’s not so forgiving.

Turning around will mean a certain lecture.

“Gotta be up early, I won’t wear ‘em again.” You decide, hastening up the stairs before she can call you on your lie. Your bare feet hit the landing and slip a bit on the loose runner your dad swears he’s going to remember to buy underlay for one of these days.

As you steady, the door to your right creeks open and Georgie stumbles out of his cowboy-covered bedroom, rubbing uncaringly at his eye socket.

“Hey.” He yawns, heading for the bathroom, his hand-me-down pyjamas hanging down over the tops of his feet as he shuffles for the bathroom.

“Hey. Wanna do something with me Saturday?” You ask him, already headed for your own room. He stops and turns his head, eyes no longer heavy with sleep but wide open with curiosity.

“Yeah. What?”

“It’s a surprise.” You decide, twisting the handle and letting the door creak open wide as muscle-memory guides your hand to the lightswitch and illuminates your bedroom. It’s not really a surprise, but he won’t go back to bed if you tell him now. “Night, Georgie.”

“Goodnight!” He calls back, closing the bathroom door almost all the way. The light bulb’s still out and he’s still scared of the dark.

You close your bedroom door, shutting all of them out and immediately reaching for the ties of your halter top. They fall loose and you shimmy out of the fabric, then the shorts.

Flowered paper on the walls, hardwood floors, this room is filled with the remnants of the little girl you once were in here. The shag rug and the Janis Joplin print above the bed are evidence of the newer, cooler woman who now occupies the space. The two of you coexist in this little space just fine most days.

Next comes the quest for a shirt to sleep in — sleeping in the nude doesn’t work when you have a Mom like Joan. She means well, you’re grateful for her. She’s the first person you’ll thank when you get your first award. Even though she still comes in without knocking.

Shirt acquired, you hear Georgie’s door click shut down the hallway as you scan the room for the book you discarded last night.

The window in your room faces miles of fields. In the far distance, you’ve never really noticed that you can see the O’Malley farm. Well, kind of. Ahead of that, there’s a small dusting of forest that hinders your view.

Your search for the book comes to a brief stop as you turn towards the open window and look out over the view. More specifically, of the red and white glint of weatherproof canvas that comes to a sharp point, dazzled with lightbulbs.

“Did you see what your daughter came home in?” Joan asks, shaking her head from her seat at the sewing machine. It whirs impolitely over the conversation, seeing blue thread through the hole in the knee of Georgie’s blue jeans.

“Sure did.” Fred drops his beer into the trash with a clang and rolls his shoulders back. He turns towards her, already expecting the worried frown he sees.

“People’ll talk.”

“Let ‘em,” Fred shrugs. He considers another Budweiser, but knows he’s got to be up early to get to the factory in the morning. “She’s a smart girl, she’s not out causing any trouble.”

Joan stops the machine and hums in consideration.

“Besides, I’m sure it’s a right of passage — wearing stuff that makes your folks’ blood pressure go crazy.”

She smiles, pushing up from the chair. Her socks pad across the green and yellow linoleum until she reaches her husband, her head tucking into the crook of his neck.

“You’re right. But I don’t like those shorts.” Joan decides as her husband takes her into his arms, smoky smelling and familiar.

Behind them, the morning’s paper sits discarded with only the sports section disrupted. Printed in an appropriately black ink, is the freckled face of Audrey Weiss. Her large-round glasses are still sitting on the bridge of her nose, her shoulders are angled and she’s beaming, looking front and centre. Above her portrait, the word MISSING is in the same shade of mourning-appropriate black ink.

That was a school photo. It’s old, her bangs have grown out already. Her round glasses are all torn up now, shattered and mangled — about 200 yards from her broken body, which is yet to be discovered in an empty stretch of red-dirt land off of a highway in southern Arizona.

NEXT CHAPTER

TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT

tags: tags: @sunflowercharlie13 @spinning-away @eloquentdreamer @a-reader-and-a-writer @breezyweazybeezy @mel119g @blaircharlotte @hersuitisbanana @aragorn-02 @one-sweet-gubler @chrysalismuh @xzyzycxdd @atarmychick007 @ximehs @ah9242 @gleefulleve @nnatel @topherwrites @princesskreator @seitmai @d0main-expansion @yepyeahuhhuh @cherrycola27 @ohtobeleah @roosterbruiser

[autism-autobot]

I want to see more of Wukong interacting with the general public of heaven and surprising them more and more with how wrong they were in their assumptions of his character. Like I can imagine the plumhill boys and/or peach madens wanting to hang out with him again and setting up a picnic in one of the public gardens just to run into some nasty noble or smth. I like to think that besides the Havoc itself, the peach madens were actually pretty cool with their little monkey boy, bonus points if they called him baby brother or considered him One Of The Girls(tm) since if I remember correctly the jade emperor had no sons therefore the peach madens had no brothers but then one day this funky, clever little monkey dude was given the same job as them with a fancy title and they're like "Aw this ones ours now🍑❤️🧡💛💚💙💜" wukong is just so "Please like and adopt me, idk what I'm doing" coded even if he is competent and self sustaining, he's just so cute, look at his little face!

- @fruit-fight 💜

"How can anyone hate him? He's just a little guy!" - A Peach Maden

"Well, you see, he *lore dumps about Wukong*" - Celestial Soldier

"AND???!!!" - Other Peach Maden

To them, he is very much one of the girls. Wukong is very happy they still feel that way about him.

~~~

Nezha brought Wukong to a café in the Celestial Realm one gentle morning. Sun Wukong had been slowly getting more used to using mobility devices in public. They were chatting while Wukong sat in the rollator anxious about his surroundings. He hadn't made many public appearances at this point and was concerned with how the other celestials who noticed him felt about his presence, especially in his current condition.

An elderly woman entered the café with who appeared to be a descendant of hers and just... stared at Wukong. Deer in the headlights kind of look. The young man only took a quick glance before turning to his elder.

"Grandmother, there's no line."

"Whatever is Nezha doing with that thing?"

"Grandmother, he's a monkey, not a thing. And I'm certain the Marshall has a good reason for the company."

"Hmm.... I'll go ask him."

"WAIT, GRANDMA NO!!!"

Wukong ducked his head and awaited the inevitable. Nezha noticed and scooted into a more protective position next to him.

'Grandma' bombarded Nezha with a million different questions about Wukong. Nezha answered her patiently, not wanting any trouble. Her grandson looked embarrassed.

Luckily, the grandmother seemed content with Nezha's answers and walked away when finished. The grandson apologized profusely for his grandmother's behavior.

Twentyish minutes later, the grandmother returned and placed a cookie in front of Wukong and pinched his cheek.

"Now, you keep being a good boy and get well soon. Alright, dear?"

"Yes, ma'am. I will."

~~~

Nezha had dropped Wukong off at the Demon Bull Family's place while he went to another boring meeting. As usual, he eavesdroped on the other celestials while he waited for things to get started.

The rumors were different than normal.

"Did you hear that The Monkey King is sick? The poor thing!"

"Wukong's living with Nezha now? How sick is that guy? Do you think he'll be okay?"

"You should have seen him in the market the other day, all cozy with his blanket holding onto Nezha! Oh, he's the cutest!"

"I was planning on dropping off some medicine at Nezha's place for Wukong if you wanna come with."

"Gods, I hope that The Monkey King feels better soon. Even my children have been praying for him."

Nezha smiled. These weren't the tones his dearest friend was usually spoken about with. It was a nice change. If only Wukong had heard it himself.

Masterpost

[vodika-vibes]

Hello hello! Congrats on your 650 followers! I saw you had requests open so here I come bc I love how your mind thinks 😌

Commander Fox, Regency AU (or similar to Bridgeton kinda vibes)

But a more will they/wont they type of thing (Happy ending tho, maybe bit of angst??) but similar to Bridgerton where they have ‘the season’ or the courting season.

I just feel that foxy boy had great Duke Hastings vibes and I’d love to see how you run with this idea!

Our Unending Dream

Summary: You like to think you’re a little more reasonable than some (most) of your peers. You’ve never been one for flights of fancy or prone to the vapors. People don’t get under your skin because you don’t allow them to. With one, very notable, exception.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 977

Prompt: Regency Era

Warnings: None

Tagging: @bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @Mira-Loves-Star-Wars @tiredbi-peach @dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023 @Kimiheartblade @padawancat97 @falconfeather23435 @etod

@bb8-99 @kiss-anon @continous-mistakes

A/N: So, full disclosure, I've never watched Bridgerton so I was kind of making it up as I go. In any event, I hope you like it! It's also shorter than the other, and I'm sorry for that.

Click HERE to join my taglist!

When your aunt informed you that she was throwing a Salon for you and your cousin, you thought it would be for your cousin’s birthday celebration. A young lady doesn’t turn 21 every day, after all.

And stars know that your poor cousin deserves to have people paying attention to her, at least for one day.

It was, as it happens, a rather foolish assumption.

“I think Mother is trying to kill me,” Your cousin whispers to you an hour after the Salon starts and she’s able to extract herself from the group of well-wishers who have been hovering around her since the party started.

“I think she’s trying to marry you off.” You counter as you take a sip of your fruity drink, “Or have you not noticed that all of your shadows are noble men?”

She shoots you a look, “This Salon is for both of us. Why don’t you have any suitors?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard? I’m unmarryable.”

“According to whom!?” Your cousin demands, offended on your behalf.

“Myself.”

She shoots you another look, “Some day, cousin of mine, you’re going to fall in love with a man and I’m going to laugh myself sick.”

“Well, then. In deference to your health, I shall simply have to join a convent.”

She elbows you roughly, “Darling, you can’t drink wine at a convent.”

“The things I do for family,” You muse dramatically.

She laughs, which has the misfortune of drawing the attention of her suitors once more, and she hides her sour face behind her fan, “Back to the trenches I go.” She says with a sigh before she sweeps away, her voluminous pink dress swirling around her feet.

You smother your laughter with ease and lift your wine glass back to your lips to take another sip. If nothing else, watching your cousin try and fend off her suitors will be amusing.

It’s not as if anyone is interested in you, after all.

Though, despite what you said to your cousin, there is one man who you wouldn’t mind paying attention to you. Tragically, he’s both not here and is not an acceptable partner for you…according to your Father and his wife.

Tragic.

Heartbreaking, even.

You glance away from your cousin as someone comes to a stop near you, and a flash of red and white catches your attention. A very specific pattern of red and white.

Marshal Commander Fox is standing next to you, still dressed in his armor, with a small grin playing on his handsome face. 

“Commander! I wasn’t aware that you had been invited,” You say as you focus your attention on him.

“I was not.” He admits with a shrug, “Technically, I’m crashing the party.”

“Shame on you.”

“Yes, yes. I’m an awful man, I know.” His small grin grows wider at his words, “What can I say, all of the lovely ladies dressed in their finest? I simply had to see for myself.”

You shoot him a slightly amused look, “Funny.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I might believe you if you were looking at anyone else.”

He laughs, “Well, you are the loveliest lady here.” Fox replies with a flirty grin.

“Thank you,”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do. You always do.”

Fox releases a sigh, “You’re turning me down again, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t want you to run afoul of my father.” You remind him, “He could ruin you.” And that’s the problem, isn’t it? No matter how much you like Fox, no matter how much you might love him, your Father would ruin him.

And you can’t let that happen.

A heavy sigh falls from his lips, and you chance a glance at his face. He looks unhappy, and your heart clenches painfully. You put that look on his face. This is your fault.

Fox’s gaze locks with yours, and a slow smile crosses his face, “Run away with me.”

“...I beg your pardon?”

“My whole unit is being transferred, we’re moving to the other side of the country. Come with me.” Gently, he takes your free hand and lightly runs his calloused fingers across the palm of your hand, making you shiver. 

“Fox—”

“I can’t give you the life you grew up with,” He interrupts, “There’s no glitz or glamour. You won’t be able to throw these types of garden parties, and you’ll probably have to get a job.” Fox lists, “It’s not going to be easy, even I know that. But no real relationship is.”

You open your mouth to say something, but he continues in a rush, as if afraid of what you might say before he can make his full argument.

“And I know you, beautiful. You’ve always hated this kind of stuff. You hate the frilly dresses, the complicated hair-dos, and the jewelry that costs as much as a house.” Fox speaks quickly, his gaze searching your face, “You always complain about how bored you are, how shallow your peers are, how you can’t talk to anyone because all they want to talk about are their social lives—”

“Fox,” You interrupt him buy reaching up and pressing a finger against his lips.

He trails off and looks down at you. A look os anxious anticipation on his face.

You favor him with a soft smile, “Do you think I could get hired at the local library?”

Fox looks surprised for a moment, “Wait…does that mean—?”

“Nothing would make me happier than to go with you,” You whisper to him.

He squeezes your hand, “Then we’d better run before your parents catch us,” Fox replies with a wide grin, “Thorn is already ordained, and Thire promised to be our witness.”And you giggle as you allow him to sneak you out of the party. Your life is going to be harder now, you know. But it’s worth it. He is worth it.

[lolahauri]

✎ Introduction ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Requests are always open, and you can send as many as you want, as detailed as you want! I just get to them whenever i can/feel like it.

Anon's: 🌹-🕯️-🍁-❤️-🎴-

Other Accounts: @lolas-favfics @lolamultifandom @lolahaurisfw @chowderpop @lolaloa777

AO3: Here

BlueSky: Here

Get To Know Me: Here

Boundaries: Flirting, nicknames, tmi, spam are all okay.😛Just don't copy or repost my stuff. Translations or taking inspo is fine w cred. <3

-> MASTERLIST <- -> EVENT MASTERLIST <-

DNI: MAP, ZOO, Pro-Para, Pro-Ana, TERF, Zionist, Bigots, Minors!!!, Discourse Blogs. ❤️🖤🤍💚

Things I Won't Write: ❌

Sex Crimes of Any Kind, Super Violent/Xtreme Kinks, Inflation, Feederism, Abuse, Puke, Shit, DDLG, Age Play, Raceplay, Wound Fucking, Gore, Vore, Misgendering/Detrans, CBT, Sounding, Fisting, Gunplay, Drugging, Stepcest etc...

First Person POV.

Things I Will Write: ✔️

Genderbent Characters, Mild Yandere, Daddy/Mommy Kink, Cheating, Mild BDSM, CNC, Dubcon, Monsters, Hybrids, Sex Pollen, Legal Age Gap, Power Imbalance (Prof/Student, Boss/Employee), Feet, Armpits, Piss, Breeding, Mild Blood/Knifeplay, Cock Warming, Dry Humping, Voyeur, Public Sex, Orgy, 3somes, Sex Toys, Overstim, Edging, etc... etc... :P

Trans Reader, Tall/Short Reader, Chubby/Curvy/Fat/Buff Reader, Other Specific Characteristics. ✔️

Ch x Ch / Ch x Reader / Ch x OC / OC x Reader / Poly Ships of any kind.

F/F, M/M, F/M, GN/F, GN/M, Poly Ships of any kind.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the list of fandoms and characters i'm familiar with and will happily take requests on!

Adventure Time/Fiona & Cake: PB, Marceline, Marshall Lee, Winter King, Candy Queen, Simon, Ice King, Fiona.

Attack On Titan: Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, Levi, Hanji, Annie, Historia, Reiner, Erwin, Ymir. 

Avatar: Jake, Neytiri.

Batman Begins Trilogy: Batman, Catwoman, Bane, Joker, Scarecrow.

Beauty & The Beast: Belle, Beast/Adam, Gaston.

Bee & Puppycat: Bee, Deckard, Cass, Toast.

BigBang Theory: Raj, Leonard, Penny, Amy.

Black Dynamite: Honeybee, Black Dynamite.

BNA: Michiru, Shirou.

Bob’s Burgers: Bob, Linda.

Breaking Bad: Jesse, Skylar.

Call of Duty: Konig, Ghost, Mace, Keegan, Krueger, Valeria, Farah.

Creepypasta: Jeff, Jane, Ben, Toby, EJ, LJ, Slenderman, Splendorman, Clockwork, Kate, Masky, Hoodie,

Desperate Housewives: Bree, Gabi, Edie, Lynette, Carlos, John.

Dirty Dancing: Johnny, Baby.

Earth Girls Are Easy: Mac, Zeebo, Wiploc, Valerie.

Elemental: Wade, Ember.

Encanto: Isabela, Bruno, Dolores, Julieta.

FNAF Movie: Vanessa, Mike, William/Steve.

Frozen: Elsa, Anna, Kristoff.

Futurama: Leela, Fry, Amy, Bender.

Good Pizza, Great Pizza: Alicante, Octavia, Dr. Keh, Nasir, Flash, Cicero, Kimmy Slice, Dr. Price.

Grandma's Boy: J.P, Samantha.

Gravity Falls: Ford, Stan, Soos, Melody, Giffany, Bill.

Jane The Virgin: Jane, Michael, Petra, Luisa, Rose, Rogelio, Xiomara.

Jurassic Park (1993): Ian Malcolm, Ellie Sattler.

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna, Toji, Shoko, Geto, Yaga Masamichi, Utahime, Uraume.

King of the Hill: Hank, Peggy, Luane, Nancy, Dale, Khan, Min, John Redcorn.

Lisa Frankenstein: Lisa, Creature, Taffy.

Little Mermaid (2022): Ariel, Eric.

MHA: Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa, Shigaraki.

Miller's Girl: Cairo, Johnathon.

Moon Knight: Moon System, Layla, Khonshu.

Mulan: Mulan, Li Shang.

National Treasure: Benjamin, Riley.

Nintendo: Link, Zelda, Peach, Daisy, Rosalina, Luigi, Bowser, Waluigi.

Norbit: Rasputia, Norbit.

Princess & The Frog: Tiana, Lottie, Naveen, Shadow Man.

Ratatouille: Colette, Linguini. 

Regular Show: Mordecai, Margret, Eileen, CJ, Benson.

Resident Evil: Karl Heisenberg, Carlos Oiliveria, Lady Dimitrescu.

Rick and Morty: Rick, Jerry, Beth, Doofus Rick.

Riverdale: FP Jones, Hiram.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World: Kim, Ramona, Gideon, Wallace.

Scream 5: Amber, Tara, Sam.

Serial Mom: Chip, Beverly.

Silverado: Slick, Rae, Mal, Paden.

Shallow Hal: Rosemary, Hal.

Shameless: Lip, Fiona, Kev, V.

SheRa (2018): All Adults.

Sherlock (2010): Sherlock, John Watson.

Slashers & DBD: Brahms, Ghostface, Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Pyramid Head, The Spirit, Huntress, Trapper, Wraith, Trickster, Pearl, Jennifer Check, Stu Matcher, Billy Loomis, Tiffany Valentine, Patrick Bateman, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, Eric Draven, The Artist, Amanda Young.

Spiderverse: Miguel, Jessica Drew.

Spongebob: Dennis, Man Ray.

Squid Games: Gi-Hun, Sae-Byeok, Ali, Sang Woo.

Steven Universe: Garnet, Amethyst, Peridot, Lapis, Jasper, Blue Diamond, Rose, Greg.

Stardew Valley: All Adult Humans (Except George & Evelyn)

Stranger Things: Robin, Billy Eddie, Chrissy, Hopper.

Supernatural: Sam, Dean, Castiel.

Super Store: Amy, Jonah, Dina, Garrett, Cheyenne.

Tangled: Flynn, Rapunzel, Mother Gothell.

The Batman (2022): Batman, Riddler.

The Breakfast Club: John Bender, Allison Reynolds.

The Nanny: C.C, Fran, Maxwell.

Total Drama Island: S1 Contestants, Chris, Chef, Blainley.

Triple Frontier: Frankie, Santiago.

Turning Red: Ming Lee, Jin Lee.

Twilight: Edward, Carlisle, Alice, Charlie.

YOU: Beck, Joe, Peach, Love.

Young Sheldon: Mary, Connie.

~

Abel Morales (A Most Violent Year)

Astarion (Baulder’s Gate 3)

Babbo Natale (Violent Night)

Barbie (Barbie 2023)

Basil Stitt (Lightning Face)

Beverly Goldberg (The Goldbergs)

Bruce (Beyond Therapy)

Charles Ingalls (Little House on the Praire)

Charlie Dompler (Smiling Friends)

Chel (Road to El Dorado)

Dale Kobble (Longlegs)

Dan Conner (Rosanne)

David Levinson (Independence Day)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Doug Remer (Baseketball)

Duke Leto Atreides (Dune)

Fezzik (Princess Bride)

Francine (American Dad)

Fujimoto (Ponyo)

Georgia Miller (Ginny & Georgia)

Jack Harrison (Translyvania 6-5000)

Jackson Rippner (Red Eye)

Jon Arbuckle (Garfield 2024)

John Doe (John Doe Game)

Jonathan Levy (Scenes from a Marriage)

John Wick (John Wick 4)

King Baldwin (Kingdom of Heaven)

Kitten (Breakfast on Pluto)

Laurent LeClaire (In Secret)

Linda Gunderson (Rio)

Llewyn Davis (Inside Lleywn Davis)

Master Chief (Halo)

Mike (5lbs of Pressure)

Moe Doodle (Doodle Bops)

Nani Palekai (Lilo & Stitch)

Nathan Bateman (Ex Machina)

Outcome-3 (The Bourne Legacy)

Orestes (Agora)

Paul Blart (Paul Blart: Mall Cop)

Paul Cable (Last Stand at Saber River)

Peggy Bundy (Married With Children)

Peter Mitchell (3 Men & A Baby)

Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

Prince John (Robin Hood 2010)

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd (Top Gun: Maverick)

Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Shiv (Pu-239)

Stanley Ipkiss (The Mask)

Star-Lord (Guardians of the Galaxy)

Summer Field (Time Cut)

Tate Langdon (AHS: Murder House)

The Janitor (Willy’s Wonderland)

Thomas Magnum (Magnum, P.I 1980)

William Tell (The Card Counter)

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

Omg can i get more komodo dragon!reader holding the komodo dragon that was found on track that one time? Like reader and the komodo just stop and stare at each other when the dragon runs past the merc garage, then next thing anyone knows reader is holding a suddenly docile 200lb komodo dragon like its a baby and everyone on track except for charles and oscar are Concerned ™️.

Really oscar and charles just want babies now.

–🍑

i. oh my god peaches. this is brilliant. this is so long i got carried away sorry 😭

singapore is always an interesting race. the heat and humidity—even with the race held at night—made the street circuit a consistent challenge for the drivers. crashes, tussles, and rain are anticipated parts of the grand prix every year.

what isn't expected is a massive lizard on track.

nobody wants to get close enough to it to do anything. the marshals try to shepherd it towards a crate or something so they can release it somewhere safe. they end up accidentally making it run into the pit lane and causing even more chaos. you're not paying much attention to any of it. the race has been red flagged, which singapore often is, but given that there's no wet weather or incidents that have taken out other drivers (yet), you need to go over your driver's strategy and pick out any weak spots.

then you lock eyes with the lizard as it scurries past the mercedes garage. it freezes. it hasn't tried to hurt anyone. it even seems pretty wary of humans. but your eyes catch and the lizard clearly recognizes your reptilian features. the eyes, the claws, the forked tongue ... and it darts towards you. even though you looked mostly like a human, you were the closest the lizard (your instincts said it was a water monitor, but you didn't have anything to back it up), and there was safety in numbers. even for solitary animals.

you're not totally sure what makes you do it. one moment, you're watching the lizard sit at your feet and the next you're holding it belly-up like it's a baby. you're big and strong enough to hold the creature in one arm. once the lizard realizes that you're clearly at home with the humans, it relaxes and is perfectly content to just watch the scenes of the paddock from your arm.

everyone is keeping their distance from the lizard and, by extension, you. it doesn't bother you. your hybrid species are typically solitary, after all. there are mutterings about whether it was a good idea to allow a hybrid of such a dangerous species to work in formula one. you don't care about them. you're good at your job, your driver likes you, and your team likes you because you make them money.

and then there's charles and oscar.

nobody understands what a bunny hybrid and a cat hybrid—even a black cat hybrid like oscar—see in a komodo dragon hybrid like yourself. they must see something, though, because there's rarely a moment where they're able to be in your presence and aren't. charles trails after oscar happily as the two of them wander over to the mercedes pit wall. both of them hesitate when they see the lizard and how it licks its lips. but the prospect of being able to talk to you is enticing enough for them to ignore their survival instincts.

as they get closer, the lizard is staring intently at charles and his bunny ears. he's a little too excited to see you. charles bounces over to you and the lizard snaps forward, almost getting close to biting charles when you yank it back and hiss harshly.

"my bunny."

immediately, the lizard shrinks back into your arms and you don't think much more of it. but it's all oscar and charles can think about. your bunny. yours. god, they liked the sound of that. by the time the animal control people show up, it's too late to restart the race. your driver gets a decent result from their moves in the (short) race. which means you're already in a good mood when charles and oscar drag you back to one of their hotel rooms.

it's not the first time this has happened. they've come to you a few times before, but they've never been this desperate before.

before you know it, you've got a very needy bunny!charles and very reluctantly horny black cat!oscar on your hands, both of them begging to give you as many babies as you want.

[trashboyo3891]

Joseph:here my family the deputies that tried to arrest me

John:Oh my god IT'S A WOMEN WITH TATTOOS-

Faith:Oh my god I get to show him my bliss flowers:333

Jacob seeing Pratt:I'mma marry this man and name him peaches

John, Joseph, and faith and Whitehorse and The Marshall: did we hear this shit correctly????

Pratt:Uhh help-

Jacob:nah that man is perfecely safe with me:)

[lolahaurisfw]

✎ Introduction ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Reqs are always open like usual too, and you can request as much as you want and as detailed as you want! i just get to things when i can/want to.

Anon's: None Yet

Other Accounts: @lolas-favfics @lolamultifandom @lolahauri @chowderpop 🔞

AO3: Here

BlueSky: Here

-> MASTERLIST <-

DNI: Map, Zoo, Pro-Para, Pro-Ana, TERF, Zionist, Bigots, Discourse Blogs. Block me if you don't agree. ❤️🖤🤍💚

What I Won't Write:

Smut. (Go to my other blog)

What I'm Willing To Write:

Reader Who Is: Tall, Short, Fat, Chubby, Curvy, Buff. Trans/NB.

Reader Who Has: Depression, Anxiety, DPDR, ADD.

Fluff, angst, platonic, hurt/comfort.

HC's, one shots, short multi-chapter fics, imagines/drabbles.

Canon-friendly, AU's, Canon Divergence, Out of Character.

Ch x Ch / Ch x Reader / Ch x OC / Poly Ships of any kind.

F/F, M/M, F/M, GN/F, GN/M, Poly Ships of any kind.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the list of fandoms and characters i'm familiar with and will happily take requests on!

Adventure Time/Fiona & Cake: PB, Marceline, Marshall Lee, Winter King, Candy Queen, Simon, Ice King, Fiona.

Attack On Titan: Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, Levi, Hanji, Annie, Historia, Reiner, Erwin, Ymir. 

Avatar: Jake, Neytiri.

Batman Begins Trilogy: Batman, Catwoman, Bane, Joker, Scarecrow.

Beauty & The Beast: Belle, Beast/Adam, Gaston.

Bee & Puppycat: Bee, Deckard, Cass, Toast.

BigBang Theory: Raj, Leonard, Penny, Amy.

Bistro Huddy: All Staff Members.

Black Dynamite: Honeybee, Black Dynamite.

BNA: Michiru, Shirou.

Bob’s Burgers: Bob, Linda.

Breaking Bad: Jesse, Skylar.

Call of Duty: Konig, Ghost, Mace, Keegan, Krueger, Valeria, Farah.

Creepypasta: Jeff, Jane, Ben, Toby, EJ, LJ, Slenderman, Splendorman, Clockwork, Kate, Masky, Hoodie,

Desperate Housewives: Bree, Gabi, Edie, Lynette, Carlos, John.

Dirty Dancing: Johnny, Baby.

Earth Girls Are Easy: Mac, Zeebo, Wiploc, Valerie.

Elemental: Wade, Ember.

Encanto: Isabela, Bruno, Dolores, Julieta.

FNAF Movie: Vanessa, Mike, William/Steve.

Frozen: Elsa, Anna, Kristoff.

Futurama: Leela, Fry, Amy, Bender.

Good Pizza, Great Pizza: Alicante, Octavia, Dr. Keh, Nasir, Flash, Cicero, Kimmy Slice, Dr. Price.

Grandma's Boy: J.P, Samantha.

Gravity Falls: Ford, Stan, Soos, Melody, Giffany, Bill.

Jane The Virgin: Jane, Michael, Petra, Luisa, Rose, Rogelio, Xiomara.

Jurassic Park (1993): Ian Malcolm, Ellie Sattler.

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna, Toji, Shoko, Geto, Yaga Masamichi, Utahime, Uraume.

King of the Hill: Hank, Peggy, Luane, Nancy, Dale, Khan, Min, John Redcorn.

Life Is Strange (2015): Maxine, Chloe.

Lisa Frankenstein: Lisa, Creature, Taffy.

Little Mermaid (2022): Ariel, Eric.

MHA: Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa, Shigaraki.

Miller's Girl: Cairo, Johnathon.

Moon Knight: Moon System, Layla, Khonshu.

Mulan: Mulan, Li Shang.

National Treasure: Benjamin, Riley.

Nintendo: Link, Zelda, Peach, Daisy, Rosalina, Luigi, Bowser, Waluigi.

Norbit: Rasputia, Norbit.

Princess & The Frog: Tiana, Lottie, Naveen, Shadow Man.

Ratatouille: Colette, Linguini. 

Regular Show: Mordecai, Margret, Eileen, CJ, Benson.

Resident Evil: Karl Heisenberg, Carlos Oiliveria, Lady Dimitrescu.

Rick and Morty: Rick, Jerry, Beth, Doofus Rick.

Riverdale: FP Jones, Hiram.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World: Kim, Ramona, Gideon, Wallace.

Scream 5: Amber, Tara, Sam.

Serial Mom: Chip, Beverly.

Silverado: Slick, Rae, Mal, Paden.

Shallow Hal: Rosemary, Hal.

Shameless: Lip, Fiona, Kev, V.

SheRa (2018): All Adults.

Sherlock (2010): Sherlock, John Watson.

Slashers & DBD: Brahms, Ghostface, Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Pyramid Head, The Spirit, Huntress, Trapper, Wraith, Trickster, Pearl, Jennifer Check, Stu Matcher, Billy Loomis, Tiffany Valentine, Patrick Batmeman, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, Eric Draven, The Artist, Amanda Young.

Spiderverse: Miguel, Jessica Drew.

Spongebob: Dennis, Man Ray.

Squid Games: Gi-Hun, Sae-Byeok, Ali, Sang Woo.

Stardew Valley: All Adult Humans (Except George & Evelyn)

Steven Universe: Garnet, Amethyst, Peridot, Lapis, Jasper, Blue Diamond, Rose, Greg.

Stranger Things: Robin, Billy Eddie, Chrissy, Hopper.

Supernatural: Sam, Dean, Castiel.

Super Store: Amy, Jonah, Dina, Garrett, Cheyenne.

Tangled: Flynn, Rapunzel, Mother Gothell.

The Batman (2022): Batman, Riddler.

The Breakfast Club: John Bender, Allison Reynolds.

The Nanny: C.C, Fran, Maxwell.

Total Drama Island: S1 Contestants, Chris, Chef, Blainley.

Triple Frontier: Frankie, Santiago.

Turning Red: Ming Lee, Jin Lee.

Twilight: Edward, Carlisle, Alice, Charlie.

YOU: Beck, Joe, Peach, Love.

Young Sheldon: Mary, Connie.

~

Abel Morales (A Most Violent Year)

Astarion (Baulder’s Gate 3)

Babbo Natale (Violent Night)

Barbie (Barbie 2023)

Basil Stitt (Lightning Face)

Beverly Goldberg (The Goldbergs)

Bruce (Beyond Therapy)

Charles Ingalls (Little House on the Praire)

Charlie Dompler (Smiling Friends)

Chel (Road to El Dorado)

Dale Kobble (Longlegs)

Dan Conner (Rosanne)

David Levinson (Independence Day)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Doug Remer (Baseketball)

Duke Leto Atreides (Dune)

Fezzik (Princess Bride)

Francine (American Dad)

Fujimoto (Ponyo)

Georgia Miller (Ginny & Georgia)

Jack Harrison (Translyvania 6-5000)

Jackson Rippner (Red Eye)

Jon Arbuckle (Garfield 2024)

John Doe (John Doe Game)

Jonathan Levy (Scenes from a Marriage)

John Wick (John Wick 4)

King Baldwin (Kingdom of Heaven)

Kitten (Breakfast on Pluto)

Laurent LeClaire (In Secret)

Linda Gunderson (Rio)

Llewyn Davis (Inside Lleywn Davis)

Master Chief (Halo)

Mike (5lbs of Pressure)

Moe Doodle (Doodle Bops)

Nani Palekai (Lilo & Stitch)

Nathan Bateman (Ex Machina)

Outcome-3 (The Bourne Legacy)

Orestes (Agora)

Paul Blart (Paul Blart: Mall Cop)

Paul Cable (Last Stand at Saber River)

Peggy Bundy (Married With Children)

Peter Mitchell (3 Men & A Baby)

Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

Prince John (Robin Hood 2010)

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd (Top Gun: Maverick)

Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Shiv (Pu-239)

Stanley Ipkiss (The Mask)

Star-Lord (Guardians of the Galaxy)

Summer Field (Time Cut)

Tate Langdon (AHS: Murder House)

The Janitor (Willy’s Wonderland)

Thomas Magnum (Magnum, P.I 1980)

William Tell (The Card Counter)

[azuneekun]

Have you ever thought of what voice actors SDV bachelor/Bachelorettes would have? What about your farmer?

STARDEW VOICE ACTORS

Bachelors:

• Shane - Bojack Horseman. Bojack Horseman. (Will Arnet)

• Sebastian - Marshall lee. Adventure Time. (Donald Grover)

• Harvey - Joel Miller. The Last of Us. (Pedro Pascal)

• Elliott - Alucard. Castlevania. (James Callis)

• Sam - Prompto Argentum. Square Enix's Final Fantasy. (Robbie Daymond)

• Alex - Duncan. Total Drama Island. (Drew Nelson)

Bachelorettes:

• Haley - Regina George. Mean Girls. (Rachel Mcaddams)

• Maru - Sapphire. Steven Universe. (Erica Ruttrell)

• Penny - Miss Honey. Matilda. (Embeth Davidtz)

• Abigail - Kaitlin Ka. The Quarry. (Brenda Song)

• Leah - Megara. Hercules. (Susan Egan)

• Emily - Lola Bunny. The looney Tunes Show. (Kristen Wiig)

Farmers:

• Peaches - Belle. Beauty and the Beast. (Blanca Suárez)

• Apple- Haruka. Sailor Moon Eng. Dub. (Sarah Lafleur)

• Blueberry - Tiana. Princess and the Frog. (Anika Noni Rose)