#and his peach ofc

[non-un-topo]

Was thinking about periods that best suited them based on body type

[kuramirocket]

What is this book even talking about? Mario never offered to help Peach save the Mushroom Kingdom in the film. If anything he practically demanded that she help him find Luigi.

"Make fun of me all you want, but you are going to help me find my brother...please."

He added the last part, 'please,' when he saw her reaction and probably realized he should be more respectful to someone he was asking for help. Lol.

Mario only wanted to accompany Peach because she was going to try and stop Bowser who he was told is evil and likely already captured Luigi.

Mario's priority throughout the entire film was finding and rescuing Luigi. His brother was his number one motivator in everything and what kept him going and what made him fight Donkey Kong in the ring.

Don't get me wrong. Mario is nice and cares about others and he did help save the MK. He's not going to let people just be hurt, ofc, but again, his priority and thoughts were always towards Luigi from the start.

Anyways, just me reading a book geared towards very young audiences and being like 'actually no.' Lol

[queenofthepunks]

Peachy annoying Franco be like:

Context: Peachy has nothing else to do and she decides to bother Franco because she feels like it!🤣🤣🤣

[neriyon]

Glamtober - Day 14: Ranged

Lots of cool ranged glams to choose from, but ultimately decided to show off one of my older favorites~ Pretty sure I originally made this one for Yusui (that top hugs male au ra waists so nicely), but it looks very nice and in-character for Einn too.

Warg Jacket of Aiming

Augumented Torrent Armguards of Aiming (Rhotano Blue)

Hakama #55

Warg Shoes of Aiming

Astrild

Blue Triteleia Earring

You could also probably dye the gloves grey, but rhotano blue matches the little blue ribbon on the hem of the top

[candied-peach]

merry christmas! ♡

[image description: marker art of a christmas tree with a yellow star on top, silver tinsel, and a red and white mat around the bottom, there are ornaments with each side's color, the orange one is on the floor, there is also a white coffee cup with zzz printed on it, representing remy, and a pink and white candy cane in the coffee cup, representing emile.

on the right of the christmas tree is virgil sanders, he has green eyes and purple and brown hair, he's wearing a red and green striped cone-shaped hat, a gold crown earring, a pink choker with a light blue heart on it, an off-the-shoulder pink and black striped fuzzy sweater, purple tank top strap showing underneath it, and a pastel purple and pink plaid skirt, with yellow-star-patterned blue socks]

[darkclouds-rainsounds]

The above is a screenshot of one of tropes from Shadoo's section in the SPM TV Tropes page that caught my interest.

“Never mentioned to be killed...” Hm. If I go by my headcanon of how Dimentio fits into the story of the Pixl Uprising (i.e he's both the Magician's son and the surviving apprentice who defeated the Pixl Queen), then that would give another parallel of how Dimentio was once a hero who had a Pixl that could see the truth who stopped an antagonist who had the Dark Prognosticus who several thousand years later switched sides. And by another parallel, I mean it works perfectly alongside this.

The reason Shadoo exists (if they are the Pixl Queen) is because he couldn't go through with killing his sister; he cared for her too much and now here she is stuck at the bottom of the Flopside Pit of 100 Trials and wanting to exact revenge on the Ancients for sealing her away. Based on how Shadoo has a robotic text box and says that they were created by the Ancients, it can be presumed she forgot she was ever human. She forgot who she was.

Fast forward to the events of SPM and Dimentio's intended kill-shot for Count Bleck gets intercepted by Nastasia and knocks her unconscious in addition to injuring her. Either he had the power of that shot just enough to kill Bleck and no further and that's why Nastasia survived, because why waste precious energy? All he has to do is finish Count Bleck off who is already at death’s door thanks to the heroes.

Or Nastasia was just very fortunate to survive a full-powered blast. My money's on something like the former because Dimentio has well more than enough power to absolutely guarantee no one would survive an attack like that. (the average person who isn't a hero or built for combat— which Nastasia very much isn't— anyway.)

Then there's him saving O'Chunks and Mimi from what would have been certain death by teleporting them to Dimension D. We know they didn't end up in the same place as Peach and Bowser because neither they nor O'Chunks and Mimi make any mention of such. Pair that with the fact that the Void can't be seen from Dimension D and thus heavily implying that anyone inside it would survive the Void that would destroy everything else, and you're left with the only explanation of Dimentio having saved them. I do believe that Dimentio screwed up by not only "catching feelings" and he genuinely did care for the other minions deep down as much as he tries to deny that; and I have mentioned in a prior post about him putting all of the people who could have possibly done something about the Super Dimentio fusion in the same place.

If he hadn't cared as much as he did for them and just left them to their fates, he would have won. I feel that the reason why the floor came out under Bowser and O'Chunks is because of Dimentio— because why make a trap like that that is intended to kill any who don't make it out in time and then have it to where after a certain amount of time, it would give any of the heroes still inside who may somehow still be alive an escape and make a comeback? It makes no sense. And it's because of that, that Peach was able to survive by landing on top of Bowser.

Had he only teleported Bowser out and left O'Chunks, and teleported Peach while leaving Mimi, the minions wouldn't have been able to band together with Count Bleck and Tippi to recharge the Pure Hearts and destroy his invincibility. It was his inability to go through with killing them or just letting them die because he actually cared about them— cared too much— that caused his own undoing.

History literally repeats itself if one subscribes to believing Dimentio is both the Magician's son and the last surviving apprentice.

First Shadoo who may or may not be the Pixl Queen, was spared by her brother who couldn't bear to go through with killing her therefore causing future consequences for if she ever gets free. Then the minions— including Nastasia and Count Bleck who for the latter, Dimentio in his ever present wisdom decided to spare killing for later— with their love for each other that was allowed to continue existing all because he spared them for the time being, recharged the Pure Hearts and caused immediate consequences for himself and was the catalyst for his defeat.

In the first instance, he was on the “heroic” side. For the last he was on the “villainous” side.

[didderd]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!

DFKBN SO MANY

THANK YALL! ;^;

[enniewritesathing]

[wip]

love how Brian is peaking behind John

[camotherogue]

so guess who never got to drawing buchi sobs. It'll happen eventually guys I promise.ntomorrow. I got busy with other designs today and then my power fucked off IM SOBBING I REALLY DO WANT TO DRAW HIM I SWEAR

[keeps-ache]

there is no hype like having a fruit cup

[hyuniebinnie]

I NEED THE DWAEKKI TAMAGOTCHI SO BAD

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Eleven

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, Christian Horner, Lando being a complete simp.

Notes — Had some fun with some social media graphics in this chapter! Share all of your thoughts/feelings after the chapter, I love to hear your yapping!

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! — Peach x

Zak’s eyes were fixed on the monitors. Lando was mid-lap, sector times glowing green across the screen. The tension was high but familiar; the usual adrenaline hum of a qualifying session.

Then, from the corner of his vision, the main feed flickered to a live shot of the Red Bull garage.

And there she was.

Amelia.

She was in what had become her usual seat in the RedBull garage, laptop balanced on her legs, surrounded by telemetry screens and noise and movement; like she belonged there. Like she’d always belonged there.

Zak felt something hitch in his chest, but he pushed it down. He hadn’t seen her in person all weekend. Probably by her design.

Then, she looked up. Not at him. At the camera.

Grimaced. Waved, awkwardly. In a way that was just so Amelia. 

And then she held up a piece of paper.

“AND LANDO NORRIS’ GIRLFRIEND.”

It was on-screen for less than two seconds — just long enough to be undeniable.

Will, still tracking Lando’s data beside him, let out a low whistle. “Oh wow. Brave girl. Didn’t realise they’d made it official.”

Zak blinked at the screen.

The Sky Sports commentators were laughing. The F1 TV commentators sounded between shocked and amused. 

But Zak didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Lando’s car zipped through the final corner. Purple sector. P3 provisional. The garage cheered in his ear. Will was on Lando’s radio, mentioning something about the braking point into Turn 10.

Zak was still staring at the coverage screens.

Because no one had told him.

Not his daughter.

Not Lando.

And she looked… happy. God, she looked happy. Freer than he’d seen her in years.

But there was a tightness in Zak’s jaw now, a hollowness in his chest.

— 

The house was quiet, save for the gentle whir of the fan in the corner and the soft murmur of the F1 broadcast on the TV.

Tracy sat curled up on the sofa, feet tucked under her, a forgotten cup of tea cooling on the side table. She wasn’t one to watch every session, not unless Amelia was involved; which, lately, was more often than not. Still, it surprised her every time. Her little girl, in this world.

Then the camera panned to the Red Bull garage.

Tracy straightened.

There she was.

Amelia, hunched over her laptop, eyes sharp behind her glasses, entirely in her element. The graphic read “Amelia Brown, Engineering Intern.”

Tracy smiled, until she saw Amelia lift a piece of paper with bold, black writing.

“AND LANDO NORRIS’ GIRLFRIEND.”

There was a beat of silence in the room. Then Tracy let out a soft, surprised laugh, full of pride and amusement.

“She never was very good at sharing,” she murmured fondly, shaking her head.

And oh, didn’t she mean that. From toys to her spot on the sofa to the last slice of cake, if Amelia liked something, she claimed it.

Tracy smiled at the screen, at the quiet defiance in her daughter’s posture, the certainty in her eyes. “That’s my girl.”

— 

iMessage — 16:07pm

Max F. BRO WHAT JUST HAPPENED 😭😭

Lando ? what are you on about

Max F. GO TO THE MEDIA PEN RIGHT NOW YOU’VE BEEN HARD LAUNCHED

Lando what what are you yapping about mate

Max F. Amelia. Garage cam. “Engineering Intern” graphic. She held up a sign that said “AND LANDO NORRIS’ GIRLFRIEND” ON. LIVE. TELEVISION.

Lando ??????????????

Max F. BRO I SPAT OUT MY DRINK YOU COULD’VE WARNED ME YOU TWO WERE ACTUALLY TOGETHER I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST FLIRTY VIBES

Lando just saw the clip fucking hell

Max F. mate you’re smiling aren’t you

Lando yeah. a little. a lot. she’s unreal

Max F. unreal is one word for it 💀

Lando she’s so fucking cute Jesus. the handwritten sign? the little smile??

Max F. you’re in it man

Lando obviously.

Max F. she’s got guts. respect. also she might’ve just made F1 history first hard launch via broadcast overlay 💀

—

Subject: Media Broadcast Conduct – Spanish GP

From: media@redbullracing.com To: amelia.brown@redbullracing.com Date: August 18, 2020, 10:24 AM

Hi Amelia,

Hope you're well.

We wanted to quickly flag your appearance during the Spanish GP broadcast a few days ago — specifically the moment where you held up a handwritten sign referring to your relationship with Lando Norris.

While we understand this was done in good humour, we'd appreciate the chance to speak with you about the optics of team affiliations, personal relationships, and privacy within the paddock. As you know, the broadcast reaches a global audience, and we have to be mindful of how moments like this can be perceived externally and internally.

Please let us know when you’re free for a quick chat during the Belgium weekend.

Best regards, Red Bull Racing Media & Communications Team

—

Subject: Re: Media Broadcast Conduct – Spanish GP

From: amelia.brown@redbullracing.com To: media@redbullracing.com CC: adrian.newey@redbullracing.com Date: August 18, 2020, 11:22 AM

Hello,

I’m happy to discuss this further in Belgium, but just to clarify, I do only plan on having one boyfriend, so it’s not likely to happen again.

Regards, Amelia

—

iMessage — 11:24am

Amelia The PR team are being passive aggressive I think.

Lando Norris ??? You okay baby

Amelia Yes. It’s just via email.

Lando Norris Get the social media team on your side. Maybe Instagram?

Amelia I don’t like Instagram.

Lando Norris Give it a go, baby. You’re so pretty. The fans will love it.

Amelia Fine.

—

ameliabrown just posted . . .

ameliabrown My 1st Instagram Post 👍🏻

liked by redbullracing, landonorris, maxverstappen and 176,301 others

Tagged: redbullracing, landonorris

view all comments

landonorris look at my beautiful girl😍 ❤️ by ameliabrown

user9 im going to pass tf out

user62 i am seething with jealous right now

user22 SHES LIVING MY DREAM😫😫😫

user51 YOU ARE A FCKING QUEEN FOR THAT HARD LAUNCH. I WOULD HARD LAUNCH TF OUT OF LANDO NORRIS TOO

user6 my jaw DROPPED. she was nawt willing to hide her man

user18 anyone else concerned abt what redbull had to say abt it??😭😭

user51 @user18 BABY I COULDNT CARE LESS. I LOVE THEM

user7 that’s so real. like imagine lando norris being your bf, working for redbull racing, and your dad is the team boss for mclaren like ???? girl is hooked tf up

user18 @user7 don’t forget abt how much alonso has praised her in the past!!!!

redbullracing our favourite stem girlie!🤩

user93 you are my biggest inspiration! i want to study engineering and work in motorsport and seeing another woman succeed is so inspiring

ameliabrown Thank you.

maxverstappen A very nice front wing!

ameliabrown I agree 👍🏻

user18 how have you never posted on here before?!

ameliabrown I prefer twitter. I am not very good at taking photographs.

user18 agree to disagree. this is such a cute photo dump!

ameliabrown Thank you. I spent 4 hours rearranging the photos.

user7 oh my god. she has charmed me.

—

Amelia checked Twitter for the first time since the Grand Prix.

She hadn’t meant to avoid it; at least not forever. But between debriefs, logistics, travel plans, and Lando hijacking the vast majority of her spare time, social media hadn’t felt like a priority.

Now, curled up in a quiet corner of the hotel lobby with a half-drunk iced coffee and an overheating laptop, she opened the web app.

The notifications were overwhelming. Thousands of likes. Hundreds of retweets. Clips of the broadcast moment; her sitting in the Red Bull garage, holding up that very efficient sign, looping on repeat across fan accounts, meme pages, and even official F1 news outlets.

There were edits (some cute and some... a bit strange). Screenshots. Commentary. Debate.

And, of course, the most viral of the tweets.

She scrolled slowly.

She scrolled for a few more minutes. There was already a hashtag that was being attached to everything regarding them.

Amelia blinked once. Then twice.

“Oh,” she said out loud to absolutely no one. “Guess everyone knows he’s mine now.”

And with that, she closed Twitter, pushed her headphones over her ears, and returned to the CFD simulation.

—

Lando didn’t usually mind being a passenger.

In fact, outside of a race weekend, he liked not driving. Liked leaning his seat back, feet on the dash, sunglasses on, playlist humming. It was a break. A switch-off.

Except for right now. Because right now, he was gripping the door handle like it might save his life.

Amelia, completely calm beside him, was weaving through the hills somewhere outside Montmeló like she was auditioning for WRC. One hand on the wheel, the other tapping against her thigh in time with whatever Spanish radio station she’d insisted they listen to. She was humming, even.

“Amelia,” he said, as politely as humanly possible while his soul tried to climb out of his chest. “Baby. You… do know there’s a speed limit, right?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, eyes on the road. “I’m under it.”

He glanced at the dashboard. She was; just barely. But then again, it wasn’t the speed that was making his stomach lurch. It was the corners. The absolutely unapologetic and fearless way she took them.

“You brake after the turn,” he muttered under his breath, wincing as they zipped past a startled cyclist.

“What?” She frowned, eyes flickering his way. 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just—Jesus, okay, that goat came out of nowhere—”

“You’re being weird,” she said, completely deadpan. She straightened the car again, after having swerved around the stray farm animal. “You’ve gone all stiff. Are you having a panic attack?”

“No,” he said through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath. “Sorry. I just don’t understand how you have a driving license.”

Amelia shrugged. “I passed the test. Same one everyone has to take.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” 

“I used indicators. I drove under the speed limit. I checked my mirrors. Just drove normally.”

Lando gave a wild, incredulous laugh. “This is you driving normally?”

“Yes.” She said. 

“Amelia,” he exhaled, clutching the door handle again. “I like you. I do. I like you a lot. But I genuinely think you’re going to kill us both.”

She made a face, eyes still locked on the road, though she wanted to glance at him. “You’re being very dramatic about this. You’re a Formula 1 driver.”

“Exactly! I know what dangerous driving looks like. And this is it!”

Amelia rolled her eyes but eased off the gas slightly; for his sake, not because she agreed with his critiques. “Fine. You can drive next time. I don’t really enjoy it anyway. I have to focus on a million different things at once.”

“Baby, from now on I’ll drive us everywhere,” he said, placing a hand over his heart like he was making a vow. “Just get me to dinner alive and I’ll buy you dessert.”

“I was getting dessert anyway,” she replied flatly. “I’ve been wanting to eat chocolate cake all day. With vanilla ice cream.”

He looked at her then, still half-terrified but entirely smitten. That warm, indulgent smile pulled at his mouth. “That sounds good, baby.”

“Yeah,” she said, eyes still forward, nodding a little. “It does.”

— 

Lando drove them back to the hotel. Amelia climbed into the passenger seat with the calm satisfaction of a girl with a belly full of chocolate cake and ice cream. She had her knees pulled up to the seat, leaning into Lando’s side as much as the seatbelt would allow.

His hand drifted to her thigh at the first red light they came across, thumb brushing back and forth, the occasional tight squeeze that made her smile.

“I like you like this. Fed and sleepy,” he murmured, head tilted just slightly toward her.

She made a quiet sound in reply, somewhere between a hum and a sigh, and leaned in closer. “I much prefer when you drive,” she told him. “It’s much more efficient. You don’t flinch at your own braking.”

He laughed. “That’s because I brake like a normal person.”

“You brake like a professional driver,” she corrected. “I’m just a normal driver.”

“Sure, babe. That’s what we’ll tell the insurance company.” He teased. 

She gave him a soft shove. 

“…I was thinking,” she started, slightly hesitantly. “Before we fly to Belgium, I want to go see Fernando. He texted again earlier. He- uh, I told him that I told you about him coming back to the grid next year. He was okay with it. Made fun of me for being a terrible secret keeper.” She flushed slightly.

Lando glanced at her, then back to the road. “He’s in Spain?” He asked. She nodded. Without hesitation, he asked, “you want me to take you?”

She blinked at him. “You’d want to?”

He nodded. “Yeah, baby, of course. I’d like to meet him properly. Not just in the paddock, like… really meet him. He’s important to you, and I mean, he’s Fernando Alonso. I grew up watching him race.”

A pause. Her voice was small but unguarded. “He was the first person who ever took me seriously. Let me have full access to his data, made sure his engineers listened to me. It was nice.”

Lando squeezed her leg. “Then I definitely want to meet him.”

She didn’t say anything else, but she reached across the console and tangled her fingers with his, settling their joined hands on her lap. Lando glanced over, just briefly, and smiled.

“I’m glad I didn’t die on the way to dinner,” he said, teasing.

“I wouldn’t risk killing you,” she replied, all logic and deadpan. “You pay for my food.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, eyes still firmly on the road. “Unbelievably romantic. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled. 

— 

Lando hovered just behind her, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, expression caught somewhere between polite interest and mild nerves. He was in Fernando Alonso’s house, after all. Not exactly neutral territory.

“Amelia, mi niña!” came the booming voice from across the space. Fernando appeared, all wide smile and familiar presence that made the hairs on Lando’s arms stand. “Finally! You keep me waiting too long.” The Spanish driver exclaimed. 

Amelia lit up, in that subtle way she did, just the slight lift of her eyebrows and the way she tilted forward a little as he pulled her into a tight hug. “You said Wednesday. It’s Wednesday.”

“So punctual, like a human calendar,” he teased, then pulled back and looked over her shoulder. His dark eyes zeroed in on Lando. “And this must be your boyfriend.”

Lando stepped forward, extending a hand. “Hey. Yeah, I’m Lando. It’s really nice to meet you, man—”

Fernando didn’t take the hand. He just stared for a moment. Then said, “As you know, I will be driving alongside you again next year. And I have taken a year off, so I may be… rusty. I would hate to be involved in any kind of racing accident with you, Norris.”

Lando stared at him. “Right.”

Amelia frowned. “Fernando. He’s been very nice to me.”

Fernando ignored her. “Do you like espresso?”

Lando nodded hesitantly. “I—I mean, yeah.”

“Good. Come. I will show you my sim rig and my data sheets, and then we’ll see if you are worth her time.”

Amelia made a small noise. “That wasn’t part of the plan—”

“Plans are for people without passion!” Fernando called over his shoulder as he marched off toward the far side of the large house. 

Lando shot Amelia a look, equal parts amused and alarmed. “Is he serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she said, already walking after him. “But don’t worry. He only makes people run laps around his karting track when he really doesn’t like them.”

“That’s… not actually reassuring!” Lando exclaimed. 

She glanced over her shoulder at him and shrugged. “You’ll be fine. He offered you espresso.”

—

The jet hummed. Amelia was curled sideways in one of the oversized brown leather seats, legs tucked under her, iPad balanced on her knees. Charles sat across from her, nodding along with increasing confusion as Amelia spoke at a pace that could only be described as alarming. She was scrolling through graphs like a woman possessed, pointing at coloured lines and spiking data curves with growing excitement.

“—and then, if you look at the delta between laps fourteen and twenty-two, there’s a consistent 0.04 offset in throttle trace on exit, which shouldn’t happen unless you’re compensating for aero loss, probably from floor damage, but the thing is, the slip ratio here doesn’t match the expected degradation arc, so I think your downforce coefficient might’ve been slightly off due to a micro-blister pattern. See? Look… here.”

She spun the laptop toward him, tapping the screen.

Charles blinked. He followed her finger. He saw… a line. Maybe two. Some colours. Lots of numbers.

He was usually pretty good at reading his own data, enough to hold a solid conversation with his race engineer during debriefing. But clearly, Amelia operated on an entirely different level. Her brain didn’t just read the telemetry; it devoured it, translated it, turned it into a second language he was definitely not fluent in.

“…Oui,” he said eventually, smile tight and unsure. “Yes. That’s… very interesting.”

She beamed, clearly thrilled that he understood.

He did not.

Not even a little bit.

Across the aisle, Max leaned his head back with an amused exhale. “Amelia, let Charles sleep before his brain combusts.”

She turned, brows furrowed in confusion. “He asked about his Sector 2 drop-off in FP3. I can’t tell him how to fix it, but I can explain what he did wrong.”

“A lot, apparently,” Charles muttered, rubbing his temples.

Max smirked at him, and then turned back to her. “Come talk to me instead. I know you’ve got a list of critiques to walk me through.”

Amelia perked up, snapping her laptop closed. “Oh, yes. I’ve been meaning to ask you about that late-braking overtake attempt into Turn 8 at Silverstone. You lost at least 0.2 from the correction alone. Also, your throttle mapping in low-speed corners is still slightly erratic, less so than last year, but it could be cleaner.”

Max nodded at her indulgently. “Very helpful. And from Spain?”

Amelia hopped up from her seat and moved to the one next to Max, angling her iPad toward him. 

Charles turned slowly to Lando, who was sprawled out, watching the whole exchange with a cheesy grin. His eyes were warm and utterly enamoured. 

“…Is she like that all of the time?” Charles asked. 

Lando nodded. “Yeah. Isn’t she great? Like a walking Google search engine.”

Charles just took a deep breath. “She frightens me a little.”

Lando nodded. “Me too.”

Amelia, oblivious to their conversation, was already pulling up a new graph on her screen and gesturing wildly at something. Max was squinting at the scene and nodding. 

The jet hummed steadily beneath them. Outside, clouds drifted lazily past. Inside, amid banter and baffled glances, was something warm. Familiar.

Lando leaned his head back, smiling softly, gaze remaining on her. 

He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of watching her. 

—

The paddock was still settling. Trucks being unloaded, media crews trailing cables, mechanics in Red Bull polos jogging back and forth with crates of components. Amelia was in the hospitality suite, sitting between Max and Jos at a back table, just going over some Spa telemetry from last year, when her phone rang.

Unknown number.

She hesitated. She hated answering the phone. She exchanged a look with Max, who gave her an encouraging nod, and then answered.

“Hello?” She cringed at the pitch of her voice. 

A clipped voice responded. “Miss Brown. This is Laura Marchand with the FIA’s Competitive Integrity Division. I need to inform you that we’ve received a formal inquiry regarding your involvement with cross-team data access. We’re conducting a preliminary review. You’ve been named directly.”

Amelia’s brain blanked. “What? What are you talking about—”

“This isn’t a disciplinary action, but I’m obligated to inform you that the inquiry has been escalated internally.”

Click.

Silence.

Amelia slowly lowered the phone.

Jos didn’t speak, but Max immediately caught her expression. “Who was that?”

“Somebody named Laura… she— she works for the FIA.” Her voice came out small. “Someone filed a report about me. A— sporting integrity, data.” She was fumbling with her words. Her hands were shaking. “They said it’s been escalated.”

Max’s jaw locked. Jos leaned forward, eyes narrowed into sharp slits.

“Who would do that?” Max asked sharply. “That’s—bullshit.”

Jos didn’t ask who. He already knew.

He gave Amelia a steady, quiet look. “Did Christian try to talk to you about this kind of thing? Insinuate this being a concern of his?”

She nodded once, tight.

Max swore under his breath, hands flexing on the table.

Jos sat back for a moment, thinking. Then, without raising his voice, he said, “You need to go.”

Amelia blinked. “Go?”

“To get your father,” Jos said. “And Norris.”

Her eyes widened and panic thickened her throat. “Why? What does my dad have to do with—?”

“Amelia.” Jos’s tone was gentle, but absolute. “Listen to me, yes? Go and get them. Bring them back here.”

She hesitated. Her stomach was clenched.

“Why?” she asked again, quieter, more nervous. 

Jos didn’t smile, but his voice softened. “Because we’re going to work this out. Together.”

Max stood. “I’ll stay here with my dad. Go, Amelia.”

Amelia didn’t move for a second. Then she stood, slowly, shakily, and walked out the back of the hospitality unit, her feet carrying her in an all too familiar direction.

The calm before the storm had passed.

Now the clouds were rolling in.

NEXT CHAPTER

[lululocomo]

The new past AU: The attack

CW: blood (not very visible)

Finally sharing this art✨ the shiny stuffs are magical/celestial spearheads, don't question too much how this work or how this could cause fire, it just did-

Writing of the scene under the cut! Enjoy!! (angst with a happy ending ofc)

It was a peaceful and calm day on Flower Fruit Mountain, and today, MK was with his dad and the pilgrims.

Macaque was taking his usual stroll in the peach orchard, appreciating this beautiful corner of his home.  when this uneasy feeling slowly crawled under his skin. He could feel it, something was about to happen.Wanting to know the source of this feeling, he used his enhanced hearing. But even with it, he wasn’t able to pinpoint the exact origin of the disturbance; only that it was coming from the celestial realm.

The next moments all happened so fast: focusing all his attention toward the sky high above, Macaque never expected the sound of commotion coming from his very home. 

How was this possible?? He was convinced the problem is with the celestials, there is no way the mountain was the target- oh - oh no- now everything made sense.”Heaven is attacking”.

How could this happen?? How could the Six Eared Macaque not hear an incoming attack?! He’s supposed to protect this place! This couldn’t be real, this was a nightmare, and he can’t wake up. 

He rushed to the source of commotion, hearing only screams and noises that will forever haunt him, forgetting his shadow power in his panic.

Finally leaving the forest and at the border of the clearing, his heart sank with the scene his eye lay upon:

The mountain is covered in flames, the village is destroyed, and monkeys are escaping the chaos the best they could.

With a shaky breath, Macaque looks around, he needs to find the author of this monstrosity, and make them regret their actions.That’s when he looked up: there he was “Erlang Shen”, attacking his beloved home. 

Macaque was ready to jump at his throat, but Erlang summoned another round of his celestial spears, aiming what was left of the village. Rage clouded his mind, but before he could unleash his wrath, he got distracted by a noise: a small chirp ; barely audible even with his hearing.Then he saw: in the middle of the celestial aims, a cub, curled up in a ball, so small that Erlang mustn't have seen her. And if Macaque doesn’t do something, the spear will kill her. So, without thinking twice, Macaque jumps to protect the cub, not caring about getting hurt. Ignoring the throbbing pain coming from his shoulder, he look down at the cub, relieved to see they are unharmed.He turns his head toward the attacker, baring his teeth and glaring at him with eyes filled with rage.

Erlang high in the sky, stopped his attack upon noticing Macaque.He open his mouth and start talking to him:

 “Consider this a warning, do not even try to go against heaven ever again”.

 “What’s the meaning of this- this unjustified violence Erlang?!EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” 

Erlang, look down, no visible emotion on his face “ I have nothing against you, Six eared Macaque, I was only doing what I was ordered to do.”

“Ordered?? What, are we seen as a threat to receive this kind of destruction?? Does the stupid Journey mean nothing to you Celestials?!”

Erlang paused, then answered with a more serious look : “The heaven knows of your child. From what was seen when he’s in company of the pilgrims, he’s not a threat for Heaven” 

macaque: “... then why this horrible warning?”

 Erlang sighted; “ Li Jing was the one who ordered me to do it. Your kid may behave well now, but to ensure any of you don’t do anything against the celestial realm in the futur, he saw deems that a warning had to take place”

Macaque, whispering between his teeth “ what a load of crap..”

Erlang: “If this cub still behaves until the end of the journey, Heaven will officially leave him alone and not do anything to your little family. Now if you excuse me, I need to report back. Goodbye Six ears Macaque, and sorry.”

The celestials left as fast as he arrived. 

Macaque, still shocked by what happened, looked around him, still holding close the cub in his arm. So much was lost, not all monkeys managed to escape in time. The small cub, after being paralyzed by fear this whole time, starts to cry and sob uncontrollably, chirping for her parents. 

The shadow monkey, wanting to help this lost kid, asks her where the last place she saw them: with her small shaky paw, she points to the right. But when he looked in this direction, the only thing he could see was what used to be a house, devoured by flame. Using his enhanced hearing all around,his ears only met the sound of fire and things burning. There was no sign of life, everyone who’s alive was already far from here, and there is no way parents would leave without their cub.

 It could only mean one thing, and Macaque hates everything about it: the poor kid lost both her parents in this stupid attack from Heaven.

Macaque’s mind started to become hazy from the blood loss, but he had to check the house for the cub's parents, he wanted to believe they were somehow still alive. But it was too late, the house completely collapsed and it was only an inferno of flames now. 

His legs gave in, all hopes for possible survivors are now gone; the cub and his heartbeat are the only things he can hear right now. 

He doesn't know what to do, he is here, alone with the cub, doing his best to calm her down, surrounded by flames. Using his shadow power was not an option, he’s too unstable right now and it might put the kid in danger. 

His vision is slowly fading, and the only things he can see in the distance is… Xiaotian? What's he doing here? And is that… Wukong? Why are they both on the Mountain..? Shouldn’t they be on the journey..?

They both rush to his side in a panic:

 “BABA! OH GOD WHAT HAPPEN HERE–” MK shouted in panic, “YOU’RE HURT! AND VERY BADLY TOO!! Dad what do we do??”

 “Xiaotian.. don’t worry it’s okay-”

 “ MOON!” Wukong immediately crouches down to look at his face and injuries “WHO DARE DO THAT!? TELL ME AND I WILL KILL THEM-” he said with a voice filled with venom, ready to unleash his power to whoever did that.

“Sun.. please don’t.. it will only cause more problems… “Macaque said while caressing his lover face, “just please can you check if this cub’s parents are alive? she told me they were over there-” 

Wukong calms down and looks in said direction, using his golden vision to find who they are looking for. But as expected, no lifeforce could be detected. Macaque looked at Wukong, waiting for an answer, which Wukong gave by simply shaking his head.

 “...I see.” Macaque takes a deep breath, wincing from the pain “.. Why.. are you both here?”

MK answered with a shaky voice: “I- I felt that something happened to you. It was as if my shadow power was screaming to me to get to you. So that’s what I did” 

“What’s important is that we are here! But no more talking!” Wukong interrupts, lifting Macaque and laying him down on his nimbus, “We need to treat your injuries first! Let’s get to our house, it should be fine being behind the waterfall-” 

“Wait, what about the kid?! we can’t just leave her here!”MK ask.

“Of course we bring her too! Come on MK, I thought you were smarter than this” Wukong lightly chuckles “also she is firmly gripping Mihou, I doubt she will easily let go”

Macaque let out a weak laugh, relieved to have his family around him.

__________

Oof okay so I ended up writing more than I anticipated (also if there is any error please ignore them lmao) sdfdsf

BUT FINALLY!! THE MEIHUA LORE!!

Don’t worry Macaque recovered pretty quickly and Wukong and MK take good care of him during his recovery✨ I have brain more stuff for what happen next, but it will be in another post✨

Masterpost

[kitten4sannie]

dolce and gabbana

pairing: san x guest! reader (fem)

genre: pure smut with a tiddlywink of plot

summary: san can’t seem to get you off his mind after sitting next to you during the latest D&G showcase, so he has no choice but to get you on his dick instead.

w.c: 3.3k

warnings: some alcohol use, subby until he’s not! san, dommy mommy who folds instantly when san asserts himself! reader, both reader and san mutually go after one another despite knowing one of them is MARRIED (hoes will be hoes what can i say <3), reader’s husband is a dick ofc, misogyny (from said husband), cheating, seduction, exhibitionism, mommy/daddy kink….. (i’m weak okay,,), teasing, mainly!! praise and pet names, one instance of false praise, [ the following happens inside a crowded room of ppl and possiblyy in front of reader’s husband: groping, fingering, kissing, dry humping, one neck bite, san cums untouched, ] ITS BIG BTW AND CURVED……, oral (giving/receiving), squirting, one singular pussy slap, san puts reader into a mating press on her husband’s side of the bed just for funsies, manhandling, size kink, breeding kink, creampies (sannie cums a lotttt)

a/n: as a pudding since day 1 i am in absolute shambles thanks for asking <3 and YES im very aware i posted yesterday but the fic demons cannot be silenced!!! and just fyi i’m sure san was very grateful and absolutely brimming with excitement to be at the show!! the way i wrote him here does not reflect his actual feelings towards anything,, its just a silly fic and i wrote what i wanted lol. also i wish i could tell you how many times “dolce and gabbana that’s on my titties~” played in my head while i typed this out 😭😭 (also i did not proofread this whatsoever so forgive me if there are errors) but anyways, i hope you enjoy :33

song recs: la romana by bad bunny, rover + peaches + nothing on me by kai, planet goddamn by mac miller

San knew eyes would be on him. Why wouldn’t they be? He was dressed to the nines, his hair slicked back to showcase his alluring, feline-like eyes, his sharp, angular features that could give someone a fatal cut if they looked for too long, and most importantly, he was all decked out in a sleek black custom-made top that perfectly adorned his broad shoulders and chest, one that even cinched securely around his impossibly tiny waist. Of course it did. It had been custom fit and made just for his body. Even the tailor had jokingly mentioned that Michelangelo himself must’ve sculpted him to perfection in the heavens before San was born, but San wasn’t laughing. He perfected his body through his own sheer willpower and determination alone, to be the best that he could be for his own self — and if people just so happened to drool over the results of his hard work, then that was simply a perk.

Holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the many camera flashes, he continued to make his way down the walkway, offering many of the starstruck guests a courteous, though charming smile, wondering if their wandering gazes were due to his breathtaking ensemble or what was sitting just below it. The thought tickled him. It continued to amuse him throughout the afternoon, taking picture after picture with eager guests and wealthy tycoons alike, quite pleased with himself when neither man nor woman could seem to control themselves around him, their eyes always drifting downwards to look San up and down like he were next up in an auction, their mouths pressed to their champagne flutes in an effort to quell the thirst they felt, their free hands lingering just a little too long on the small of his back when they bid farewell to him.

San relished the fact that these poor starving individuals could never get a taste of him, no matter how incredibly rich or influential they were. None of them would get a bite of the forbidden fruit without permission from God.

It was then that the show started, various eye-catching models sashaying their way across the aisle to showcase the latest D&G collection, all displaying their own unique set of features and charm. All flawless and angelic in their own right, but they were almost predictable in that way — like mannequins made solely for the rich and beautiful to gawk at. San couldn’t help but look past them, only focusing on the expensive, tailor made clothes that were framing their perfect bodies. And after a while, he almost seemed to grow bored. Of what, exactly? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the sheer gaudiness of it all, the lack of self awareness for things that really mattered in the modern world, and the almost nauseating amount of figurative autofellatio the beautiful people around him seemed to be fond of doing. San would’ve pondered it more when somebody near him gently patted his thigh, causing him to look down at the small manicured hand, the diamond ring around your finger glinting in the light like a warning sign.

“Are you bored like I am?” you whispered softly into his ear from beside him, giving him a quaint smile when he turned his head to face you.

San blushed, leaning slightly in your direction. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, don’t worry. None of these drones will be able to notice.” You motioned your head to the crowd around you, their phones in hand, all whispering to each other about how revolutionary the new collection was, despite it looking eerily similar to the fall one from the year before. “You could whip your cock out and no one would bat an eye.”

“Oh?” San studied your flirtatious smile, then looked down just to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him. Yep, the ring was still there — and it probably cost more than a year’s worth of rent. Delighted by your forwardness, San took it upon himself to tease you, reaching down to slowly unbutton his slim-fitted pants. “Well, if that’s the case…”

Your cheeks turning bright red, you reached downwards to shield his crotch from view, looking up at him with wide eyes, your faces now impossibly close. “I-i was fucking with you! Don’t actually take out your dick…”

San’s sharpened eyes flitted from your gaze to your cherry red lips, letting go of his zipper to gently take your hand in his, pressing it firmly down onto his thigh. “Yet…?” he challenged huskily, wondering if you were like all the others and would yank your hand back, scoff in disgust, and pretend as if it had never happened. It was then that San felt you squeeze your warm hand into the meat of his thigh, your fingers just barely pressing into the inseam of his pants.

“You can be a good boy and wait till the after party, can’t you?” you asked in a lower, sultrier tone, pressing your lips to his cheek to leave your mark on him, your hand moving further up his thigh, only pulling away when you felt something hard press into your palm. Smiling sweetly, you leaned in again, this time allowing your lips to brush over his. “Good things come to those who wait.”

And just like that, you turned forward to focus on the models all gathering onto the stage at once along with the designers, clapping along with the rest of the crowd when they all took a bow. You blew a kiss to one of the designers who caught it and pretended to put it in his pocket.

Still breathless from your short encounter, San nudged your thigh with his own, biting into his lip and tasting the sweetness of your lipstick. You nudged him back, glancing at him through the corner of yours eyes, licking at your own lips, like a predator would before pouncing on their prey.

San couldn’t believe he had finally met someone like you. There was a serpent in his garden — and he couldn’t wait for it to swallow him up.

-

The after party was predictable as always — strangers binge drinking and snorting powder off of your previously pristine marble tabletops, others telling embellished stories about their latest trip to their private islands, to various vague acquaintances doing god knows what in your many empty guest rooms. All of that chaos saught to entice you, and you could not, for the life of you, care about what your husband was currently cackling over with his close friends, instead focusing on the crackling wood sitting inside the fireplace you were all huddled near. When you inevitably ran out of champagne, you patted your husband’s leg so that he could remove his arm from your waist.

He looked down at you with indifference. “What is it?”

“I need more champagne, honey. I’m going to get some.”

Your husband’s face scrunched up. “Haven’t you had enough? If you drink any more, you’re going to lose your nice figure.” He looked to his friends for validation who all simply nodded along in agreement.

Your husband’s chauvinistic comments didn’t bother you anymore, just his persistent presence in your life. He was like a mosquito that was always trying to drain you, one that you could never seem to swat away. Well, nothing a little dick couldn’t fix. “That’s funny, because I seem to recall the tailor coming in this morning for an emergency visit to alter a certain suit,” you mentioned, this time pushing your husband’s arm away from you, surveying his now quiet friends with an unbothered look, before wandering off, not registering the insecurity driven ramblings that your husband was sending your way.

Once you made your way into the crowded loft, you searched your surroundings for what you were looking for, humming at the sight of the pretty boy from earlier sitting on the large plush couch in the corner, his cheeks flushed red, haphazardly holding onto a half-empty champagne flute, his attention on one of the models that had walked for your husband’s collection a few hours earlier. He was even more handsome now that you could study his captivating details, your eyes drifting over his bulky frame, from his large arms and shoulders, to his delicate waist, and down to his spread thighs, zeroing in on what was between them, knowing that the beautiful stranger was blessed in more ways than one based off what you had felt earlier.

Without hesitation, you slowly made your way across the room, your stiletto heels digging into the fur carpet below with each concentrated step, licking your red lips when the model placed one of her hands on San’s thighs and squeezed it, his suddenly submissive expression causing more knots to form within your core. You were going to make him yours.

San could barely hear the pretty model’s words over the loud music and the many overlapping voices inside the loft, not knowing what to say when she moved closer to him, clearly going in for the kill. It was then that someone stood over him, their heel nudging into his loafer. He looked up, his once hazy eyes opening wide at the sight of you standing above him with a bottle of champagne in one hand, your other hand already cradling his face. “M-miss…there you are…”

“Here I am,” you purred, running your fingers along his jaw, satisfied with the fact that your lipstick print was still visible on his tan skin.

Just about spilling the rest of his bubbly onto his lap, San gulped, slowly spreading his thighs open wider and patting one of them, giving you a silent invitation to take things further.

Humming, you lowered yourself into his lap, your plush thighs and ass pressing snuggly against his lower half. “Look at you,” you cooed softly into San’s ear, not caring to give the now fuming model any attention, lowering the cold champagne bottle in between your bodies, chuckling at the soft whimper he let out when it pressed into the exposed sections of his skin. “You’re such a good boy, saving a seat for Mommy like this. Aren’t you, baby?”

San’s throat went dry. He must’ve done something truly benevolent in a past life to deserve this. “Y-yes, I am, s-so good for you…”

“Then, be good and open your mouth,” you purred, lifting the almost empty bottle and pouring some into your mouth. San’s jaw slowly dropped, not knowing that he was already beginning to drool. You didn’t mind, clutching the sides of his heated face and pressing your parted lips onto his, transferring the sparkling alcohol to him, but not without running your tongue over his.

San brought his hands up near the sides of your ass, his fingers trembling, not knowing if he was allowed to touch you, whimpering into your mouth when you sucked the alcohol off of his tongue.

“You can touch, baby.” You reached for his wrists and brought his hands underneath the hem of your short dress, gasping when he squeezed the softness of your ass in between his ringed fingers and began to slowly guide your hips, your clothed cunt rubbing back and forth over his stiffening cock. “Mm, someone’s eager, hm? You’re a naughty one, making the main designer’s wife grind on your cock like this in front of everyone.”

“It’s…Mommy’s fault…” San murmured near your ear, rolling his own hips up into yours, making you feel every inch of his trapped throbbing cock each time he ground himself into you, biting into his lip at the sound of your breathless moans, swearing he saw your grimacing husband from over your shoulder.

“My fault, huh? Mommy should make up for it, shouldn’t she?” you sighed back onto his heated skin, pressing kiss after kiss onto his collarbones, dragging your tongue along the constellation of freckles he had on his neck, making him shudder underneath you.

“Uh-huh…” San moaned out, your hand suddenly squeezing into and sliding back and forth over his erection, your thumb repeatedly rubbing over the pronounced tip, knowing he was staining his expensive pants with sticky pre-cum. “F-fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that…”

“So sensitive, baby, you’re so cute…but you’re not the only one, you know? Look what you did to Mommy~” You gave his balls a gentle squeeze just to hear him whimper, before letting go, instead reaching for his hand again and leading it between your legs, moving your soaked panties to the side just in time for San to fill you up with two thick fingers.

“You’re so wet…” San groaned, unable to keep himself from adding another digit inside your slick hole, beginning to pump them in and out of you, allowing the both of you to listen to the obscene squelching sounds your cunt made each time he finger-fucked you. Something switched inside of San when you began to whine and whimper, and fuck yourself back on his fingers, your eyebrows screwed upwards, begging him for more with your teary, half-closed eyes. “So fucking wet just for me, huh? Hey, Miss, did you know your husband is standing just across the room? Think he’s hard knowing I just got his pretty little wife wetter than she’s been in her entire life?”

“B-baby, don’t tease me like that,” you whispered, not wanting the control you had over him to slip out of your grasp, grabbing onto his shoulders, accidentally causing pieces of his solid outfit to fall off and land onto the leather couch.

“It’s San, Miss, but you can call me Sannie if you wanna be a good girl for me,” he chuckled, shoving his fingers into you up to the knuckles, rolling your clit around underneath his heavy thumb. “And, I’m not teasing you, my love, he’s really watching us, and he looks like he wants to kill me.”

Just as you looked behind you to catch your husband’s displeased gaze, San began to ram his soaked digits into your spasming cunt, feeling his lips, tongue, and teeth on your neck. “O-oh my god, Sannie, oh, fuckkkk…”

Just as your warm arousal began to pour out onto his fingers and lap, San bit down into the area where your neck and collarbone connected, letting out a few stunted groans, his hips jolting up into yours, coating the insides of his designer pants with white.

“Did you just…?” you began, before San stuffed his fingers into your mouth, growing quiet and sucking your arousal off of them. He pulled them out with a pop, but you didn’t even get the chance to continue your question because you were suddenly being lifted up into the air, strong hands clutching your thighs, your legs hooked around San’s waist.

Your defeated, emasculated husband was just a blur when San carried you through the crowded room and up the stairs, not stopping until he got to the largest room at the end of the expansive hallway.

“Which side does your husband sleep on?” San asked, once he stood at the foot of the kingsized bed.

“On the right. Why do you–O-oh,” you gasped as he quickly laid you out on the right side of the bed and lifted your dress up, forcefully spreading your thighs open so that he could bury his face in your cunt, repeatedly lapping at your slit and clit over your soaked panties until he couldn’t take it, reaching up to tear your panties off with ease. “Sannie, baby boy, what’s gotten into you?”

San looked up at you with dark, dilated eyes, reaching up to his broad body to rip off the rest of his outfit, his solid muscles flexing as he closed his fingers around your waist, yanking you lower so that your cunt was closer to his face, looking like he was about to eat you alive. “Daddy’s hungry,” he simply replied, diving back into your cunt to lick and slurp up your juices, tonguing your hole just to feel you clench around him, his nose nudging your clit as he ate you out like a starved man.

Sooner or later, you began to shudder and pant, tugging at the ends of San’s sweaty hair, your thighs pressing into the sides of his head until he forcefully held them down, quickly moving his head up and down as he dragged his tongue roughly over your throbbing clit, his focused eyes never leaving yours. “S-sannie, I’m really, fuck– I’m gonna cum…!”

“Cum for Daddy,” he demanded gruffly, stuffing three fingers into your cunt and pounding them into your g-spot, lifting your ass up with his other hand so that he could catch the stream of arousal that suddenly squirted out of you, some of it inevitably soaking into the satin sheets below you. San licked your juices from his lips, going down to give your puffy cunt one last lick to savor your taste, before standing up from the bed and unbuckling his pants.

“Y-you….Did you get possessed by a demon?” you asked half-jokingly, unable to keep your thighs from trembling, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist.

His cock now directly near your face, San smiled devilishly down at you, his dimples appearing. He lazily ran a closed hand along his curved, dripping length. “And if I did? You’d still let me fuck you, wouldn’t you? Because Mommy’s a good little slut, huh?”

“What do you think?” you mused, just before running your tongue along the underside of San’s heavy cock up to the salty tip, a pleased chuckle vibrating from your throat.

“Yeah, get it wet for me…” he mumbled absentmindedly, pushing his fingers through your hair to move it out of the way. San pressed his thighs tightly against the side of the bed, thrusting shallowly into your mouth, watching fondly as you sucked and licked the beads of pre-cum that leaked from the slit.

Just when San began getting worked up, you pulled yourself off of him and sat up to rid yourself of your useless, disheveled dress. Hearing a distinct groan of approval, you reached up for the handsome stranger, licking the saltiness from your lips. “Now, you come here and show Mommy just how much Daddy wants her.”

“Yeah? I’ll show you…” San wasted no time climbing back onto the bed and folding you up into a mating press, leaning back to send a few wads of spit onto your cunt, smacking his hand against the wetness for good measure, before he plunged himself deep inside you. “In fact, I’ll make sure you never forget, baby.”

You just about screamed, not ready for San’s unusual size and shape, the curve of his cock rubbing deliciously along your tightening walls each time he pounded himself into you. “S–ann–ie…! It’s so big, fuck– so good!”

“Aww, poor baby’s never had a big cock stretching out her pretty pussy before, huh?” San cooed into your ear, pulling all the way out, just to slam himself back in, hitting your g-spot dead on, making you cry out deliriously. “You’ll never be able to go back to your husband after this. You’re gonna be begging for me to take care of you from now on….” San pressed his lips against yours, sucking on your tongue as you moaned out for him. “Want you to cum for me again, baby…Squirt on my cock, okay?”

“S-Sannie, it’s too much,” you whined out, dragging your nails down his broad back, your toes curling just as San punched your next orgasm out of you when his curved cock once again came in contact with your g-spot.

As you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure, San licked your tears away, gently pressing his lips into your cheek and jaw, shushing you. “Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s here for you.” He clutched you close, holding still inside you, as his cock began to twitch. “Here it comes, princess, just for you.” A hot, creamy stream of cum began to shoot out into you, completely drenching your insides with his load.

You could hardly speak at this point in time, solely concentrated on the pleasure that still had a hold on your sore body and the warmth that was filling you up to the brim, suddenly realizing that your husband really wasn’t going to be happy with you. “Y-you shouldn’t have…nnnngh….”

San continued to roll his hips into you, his eyelids fluttering, groans spilling from his throat, your cunt still milking his pulsing cock for all it had, which was a lot, to say the least. Once there was nothing left to give you, San leaned down, pressing one last kiss to your lips, not caring that you had left your lipstick all over him. “Can I ask you something, baby?”

“Y-yes, San?”

San smiled, his glossy brown eyes glistening in the light. “When you have my baby, will you have the heart to tell your poor husband that it’s actually mine?”

Panting heavily and trying to process what the handsome stranger just said, you finally came to the realization that you let someone who didn’t even know your name possibly impregnate you. Well, at least you had something to talk about over breakfast with your husband, rather than hear him go on and on about his latest collection.

“I’m not sure about that one…”

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Hm?”

“Should I name our baby Dolce or Gabbana?”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[silenzahra]

I'm so late, but oh my God, I've enjoyed this SO MUCH 🥲🥲🥲

It makes so much sense that poor Peach feels so traumatized after being kidnapped over and over again! And also so guilty because of everything the brothers go through to save her, especially Mario 🥲🥲 Poor girl OMG, that nightmare was terrifying and I just wish I could hug her right now 😭🫂

And oh my, the way Mario takes care of her afterwards?? So tender and gentle and sweet??? 😭😭😭 Gosh, he loves her SO MUCH, and I love how he even makes her giggle a bit at the end 🥹🥹 He's such a gentleman and always knows ho to comfort his princess ❤️🩷

This was a wonderful read and your writing is so good! Thanks a lot for the tag 💖💖

"Please don't let me be alone...”

(TW: Panic attacks, mentions of kidnappings, and Burn injury.

Sorry to all the Bowser lovers, but this is just for my AU. My princess peach has a very bad relationship with him. Oh, and I'm writing Peach with trauma for this story, so sorry, Peach lovers. (I’m a Peach lover myself.) Anyways, it’s heavy on the angst but has a happy ending.

In a realm bathed in eternal sunshine, Princess Peach lay on a soft, golden blanket, her hand reaching towards the brilliant blue sky. The clouds above her lazily shifted into whimsical shapes playful creatures, a Yoshi surrounded by eggs that made her laugh with pure joy. Around her, the land was filled with life, and her beloved toads played happily, weaving crowns of vibrant flowers. Their laughter was like music, echoing through the meadows.Toadette, her cheeks flushed with excitement, bounded over to Peach, holding up a flower crown for her. The little toad’s eyes sparkled with joy. Peach smiled, giggling as she lowered her head to let the tiny one crown her.

“What a beautiful crown... Thank you, my little sweet,” Peach said, pressing a soft kiss to Toadette’s forehead. The toad beamed, her blush deepening as she scampered off to join the others in their playful game. Peach’s heart swelled with happiness, her smile brighter than the sun above.

But suddenly, a flash of red caught her eye. A familiar red cap Mario’s cap. She reached out to touch it, her fingers brushing the soft fabric. She could smell the sweet scent of mango on it, a scent she had come to associate with him. A soft blush spread across her cheeks as she held it close, feeling the warmth of his presence. Her fingers traced the stitching of the M, and for a moment, she allowed herself to close her eyes, feeling the soft fabric against her chest, a sense of peace settling in her heart.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Mario walking away, his figure disappearing into the depths of Mushroom Forest. The path ahead was obscured by towering tree mushrooms, their thick trunks rising like giants.

“Mario! Mario!” Peach called, holding his cap tightly in one hand, the other lifting her ballgown as she hurried after him. With each step, she got closer, but he always seemed to move farther away. The soft, green grass beneath her heels gave way to a growing sense of unease. The air around her shifted, a strange, acrid smell starting to fill her nose. As she ran, the sky above her darkened, the once cheerful blue now streaked with deep reds and oranges. Smoke began to swirl around her, and the world seemed to tilt, spinning into something unfamiliar.

Peach’s breath quickened, her heart racing as she tried to catch up. The air turned thick and choking, the smoke blinding her, and the sweet scent of the forest gave way to a burning sting in her lungs. Panic gripped her chest. She stumbled over a root, falling hard to the ground. Her ankle was ensnared by a thick vine, her hair tangled with grass and petals. The flower crown she had been so proud of, was now wilting, the flowers decaying in her hair.

Her breath was ragged, her body trembling as distant screams reached her ears. She lifted her head and saw the impossible a nightmarish vision unfolding before her eyes. Her kingdom, once peaceful and serene, was now engulfed in flames. The toads, her people, were trapped in cages, their cries of fear and anguish cutting through the air. The sky had turned a fiery red, the clouds now swirling in ominous, black masses.

Her heart ached. No... not her people! Not her kingdom!

She rushed forward, her dress flying behind her, her hands reaching for the cages. She grasped the cold metal bars with all her might, her voice breaking as she cried out, “NO! Let them go! Let them go!”

But her hands burned as the metal grew unbearably hot, the flames of destruction licking at her skin. She could feel the heat searing through her palms, her flesh blistering, but still, she gripped the bars, unwilling to let go. Toadette’s tear-streaked face pressed against her hand, desperately begging for her to save them. Peach’s vision blurred with tears, her heart thundering in her chest as she held on, enduring the pain, unable to stop the inevitable.

The cage began to rise, pulling the toads higher and higher, and Peach’s strength began to fail her. Her grip loosened, her hands shaking violently. The pain was unbearable, her nerves fried by the heat. With a final, heart-wrenching scream, she fell backward, her body crashing to the ground. The wind howled as Mario’s cap was tossed from her grasp, tumbling away just beyond her reach. Desperation clawed at her heart. She tried to run, to reach for it, but her hands burned, useless could not obey. Her body betrayed her as she stumbled and fell into a cage of her own, the bars slamming shut with a deafening clang.

Tears streamed down her face as she lay on the cold floor of the cage, her body broken and her spirit shattered. She lifted her head, her hair falling around her face like a veil, and looked down at her hands. The burns had faded, but now, there were white gloves on her hands, and the familiar feeling of her wedding dress, white as snow, clung to her. A white veil hung loosely from her head, the fabric rippling in the still, smoky air. She was no longer the carefree princess in the fields. She was a prisoner of a nightmare.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she gazed into the darkness around her. There, standing in the shadow, was Bowser. His eyes glowed like burning embers, his jagged teeth gleaming as he stepped closer. His monstrous size loomed over her, a terrifying presence that made her feel small and insignificant.

“You’re finally mine… my Koopa Queen,” Bowser’s voice rumbled, a cruel grin twisting his face.

Peach recoiled, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She shook her head, the words stuck in her throat. She wanted to scream for Mario, for help, but no sound came.

“Mario... H-he…” she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

Bowser’s laugh echoed in the air, and he spat out the charred remains of Mario’s cap, the tattered fabric, and the blackened bones of her love landing before her. Peach’s eyes widened in horror as she looked at the remains. Her body trembled as she reached for them, cradling the bones against her chest. Tears fell from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks, mingling with the ashes and soot. Her fingers brushed the cold, brittle bones, and her heart shattered.

The world around her seemed to close in, suffocating her. Bowser’s laughter echoed in her ears, cruel and mocking, as her own sobs drowned out any hope of escape. Her body was on fire with grief, her soul consumed by the crushing weight of loss.

“No... No… NOOO! MARIO!!” She screamed.

━━━━━━◇❖◇━━━━━━━━━━◇❖◇━━━━━━━

Peach jerked awake, her heart racing as if it had been ripped from her chest. She sat up violently, gasping for air, her body slick with sweat. Her disheveled hair clung to her face, and her eyes were swollen and teary, her skin flushed from the panic that gripped her. Her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, and her chest felt tight like it was caving in on itself. The sound of her breathing echoed in her ears, growing louder and harder to ignore. Each breath felt as though it could be her last, and the rawness of her voice barely broke through her shaky sobs.

Her hands shook uncontrollably as they gripped the sheets, her pink nightgown sticking to her damp skin. She could feel the tears running down her face, but there was nothing she could do to stop them. Her nose was stuffy, clogged from her panicked sobs, and the air seemed to grow heavier by the second. Her entire body was a tense, shuddering mess, struggling to hold it together. Her bangs hung in front of her eyes, a veil that only intensified her feeling of disorientation.

Her breaths became more frantic, her chest rising and falling with each strained inhale, the air too thick to breathe in fully. She curled into herself, wrapping her trembling body in the blankets, trying to find comfort, though her heart still pounded against her ribcage like a drum. She couldn't make the sobs stop each one a broken plea for help, a sound that felt so foreign in her own throat.

Her eyes turned toward the balcony as the curtains fluttered softly in the breeze, the moonlight spilling in like a cool, distant reminder that the world was still spinning, even if her own had stopped. The rhythmic flow of the curtains was the only thing that seemed steady in the chaos of her mind. She shut her eyes tightly, willing herself to calm down. She just needed to breathe, to hold herself together, to make it through the night.

Please, not right now, she begged silently. Please, just let it stop...

Suddenly, a soft, familiar voice broke through the noise in her mind.

“Principessa...?”

Her heart nearly stopped at the sound. Her body went stiff, the sobs catching in her throat as her gaze snapped toward the source of the voice. Mario. It was Mario.

Her breath hitched, and she coughed violently, swallowing back the bile rising in her throat. She was trembling so badly now, but somehow, hearing his voice was both the worst and the best thing she could have hoped for. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to push down the wave of nausea that followed. Slowly, she lifted her head from the covers, still struggling to find her bearings.

“M... Mario… is that… you?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, cracking as she tried to wipe away the remnants of her tears with the sleeve of her nightgown. She sniffled, her voice hoarse, and her chest tight with the weight of everything that had just happened.

Mario immediately recognized the unease in her behavior how her body was still shaking, how she was trying to pull herself together but struggling. His heart clenched with concern as he took a step closer, his gaze softening as he saw the tears still staining her cheeks, her nose red and stuffy. He could feel her discomfort, the distance between them, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her. So, he paused, standing a few steps away, letting her take the lead when she was ready.

“Principessa, are you okay?” His voice was gentle, and careful, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile calm. He gave her the space she needed, not wanting to make things worse. Instead, he went to work, preparing a warm cup of chamomile tea and grabbing a box of tissues. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could think of to help.

For what felt like an eternity, Peach sat there, trying to calm her breathing, to bring herself back from the edge. Her heart still beat erratically in her chest, but she focused on the simple task of breathing in and out, slow and steady, as the minutes passed. After what seemed like ages, she finally looked at him, her eyes red-rimmed, her cheeks streaked with the remnants of her tears. The tightness in her chest had lessened, and her breaths had become less desperate, though the exhaustion was still heavy in her bones.

She didn’t have to say anything; Mario could see the relief in her eyes, even as they remained soft with lingering pain. He handed her the warm tea and a tissue, his presence a calm that began to steady the storm inside her.

Peach took the tea from him with trembling hands, offering him a weak but grateful smile. She sipped slowly, the warmth of the drink soothing her raw throat, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt a faint sense of peace settle over her. She wasn’t alone. Mario was here. And for now, that was enough.

“...Having the same nightmares again?”

Mario’s voice was gentle, as he settled into his seat, allowing Peach the space she needed. He watched as she quietly blew on her tea before taking a small sip, the warmth grounding her. It always took a while, minutes of silence, deep breaths, the occasional fidgeting but eventually, the fear would fade just enough for her to speak.

She finally looked at him.Her tired, baggy eyes told him everything before she even opened her mouth. Her thick lashes, damp from earlier tears, trembled as she blinked. The exhaustion, the lingering remnants of a panic attack iit was all there, written on her delicate features.

“...Yes,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I know I should be over it. You always save me… I shouldn’t still be having these… stupid nightmares.”

Her grip on the teacup tightened, her fingers trembling slightly. She frowned, scrunching up her nose in frustration at herself.

Mario reached out, his warm hand rubbing gentle circles on her shoulder. The touch startled her out of her self-loathing, grounding her in the present. His brown eyes, filled with concern, shimmered under the soft light.

“These nightmares aren’t stupid,” He reassured her, his voice steady, certain. “You suffered, Peach. Just because you weren’t physically hurt doesn’t mean what you went through wasn’t real. Trauma doesn’t have to leave scars to be painful… Bowser hurt you.”

His voice darkened slightly at the mention of that name. There was no mistaking the quiet resentment there.

Peach bit her lip.

“But he hurt you and Luigi worse than me…” Her voice wavered, heavy with emotion. “All I do is get kidnapped. You have to fight your way to me. You get burned, frozen, drowned you go through so much… all because of me.”

The weight of guilt pressed into her chest, making her curl into herself, hugging the empty teacup like it could somehow protect her from the shame clawing at her heart.

And then, warmth.

Mario wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, his chin resting against her shoulder. Peach sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden contact, but then she melted into him. She clung to him, burying her face in his hair, the scent of mango wrapping around her like a lullaby.

Mario made everything feel lighter.He made everything feel safer.They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, until a soft growl broke the silence.

Peach blinked, realizing it was her own stomach that had betrayed her. Mario pulled back slightly, a knowing smile playing at his lips. But as soon as he moved, she instinctively tightened her arms around him, reluctant to let go.

He chuckled, cheeks dusting pink, but he didn’t pull away.

“I should make you something to eat,” He murmured.

“Please don't leave me alone…”

It was barely audible, but the way she gripped his hands so tight, as if he might disappear made his heart ache. Her blue eyes shimmered with unspoken fear, the fear of waking up alone, of being taken away, of losing him.Mario squeezed her hands gently, a quiet promise in the way his fingers brushed over hers.

“I would never… Mio caro.”His voice was warm, like the first rays of sunrise after a storm.

Peach’s lips trembled, but this time, it wasn’t from sadness it was from the small, delicate smile that began to form. Mario held her hand with such care, as if she were something precious, something irreplaceable. Slowly, he began to walk backward, still holding onto her, their eyes locked. Peach found herself smiling more and more, her heart fluttering in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

Then—THUD!

Mario bumped into the door.Peach giggled, and Mario, a little flustered, laughed with her. The sound was soft, sweet, and full of something unspoken yet deeply felt.

And at that moment, Peach knew.

No matter how many nightmares came, no matter how heavy the past weighed on her, she would always have this

HIM ❤️

And that made everything feel just a little bit lighter.

@keylovesstuff @bberetd @peaches2217 @silenzahra

[kyri45]

Okay how can I put this...

It may be wired but that panel with Mac holding peach or (that's a plum not sure) its like he remembered THAT TIME WHEN HE WAS HOLDING BABY MK!! AND THAT'S JUST THE CUTEST THING EVER!!!

I dunno maybe it doesn't make sense but I can't get over it

Can't wait to see the new baby!!

And here this is %100 Mk as soon as he knows he'll be a big brother

Mk: Guys Look Look I Made A Play Room For The Baby!! You Think The Baby Will Like it??

I Went To Every Single Toys In The City!! Maybe I Should Get More What You Think?!??

Macaque :T-That's kind of you it..l-looks great..! ofc the baby will like it!! but uh..that's more than enough kid!!

Wukong : Oh wow..uh k-kid isn't too early for all of t-this

*whispering* uhh ..mac I thought we told him we're having a baby not opening a kindergarten here..

His little peach hehe. He s imagining another little baby MK