#like no one else really drinks moonshine

[dragon-chica]

other than my grandmother giving me her beer to finish when I was like six, the alcohol I got started on was always moonshine. my mom would drink apple pie moonshine and give me a little glass each time growing up. I'd be gotten those tiny jars of fancy flavored moonshines. to celebrate my 21st, big jar of moonshine. for all the wine and beer that goes through my family, I just randomly got assigned moonshine? what was that about

[undertheorangetree]

Like Real People Do

Summary- A recollection of happier times.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Female Reader. Reader is basically Lucy Gray. Alcohol consumption. Fingering. Handjob. Giggly drunkness. A little thigh riding. Blissful ignorance<3

Author's Note- This is a surprise part three to In the Woods Somewhere and Cherry Wine though it can probably be read as a stand alone. I really like writing this pairing and I wanted something softer for them so enjoy.

series masterlist

It’s hot.

Stiflingly so.

Though it had been hot all day- District Twelve had been suffering something of a heat wave for weeks now- it’s worse inside the Hob. So many bodies packed together, each one of them plied with white liquor and dancing until sweat drips from them like rain water off a roof, it’s no surprise that she had begun to sweat herself. She can feel her clothes sticking to her despite being relatively loose, clinging to the line of her spine and between her breasts, but she ignores it as she fights her way through the crowd.

Despite the coal miners and Peacekeepers that litter the floor, dancing with whatever girl they can get a yes from, she has her sights set on one man in particular, one who has plastered himself to the farthest wall. She stumbles along the way, having drunk a fair share of her own moonshine, but she manages to make it to Coryo and his group of friends regardless. Sejanus smiles when he sees her, greeting her kindly, and she grins as she half stumbles toward Coryo. Though it was not her intention, somehow she manages to trip her way into his lap, landing heavy on his thighs. Her clumsiness triggers loud laughter from his friends, something she joins in on as Coryo’s arms wrap tight around her waist, adjusting her weight so she can sit more comfortably on his lap. He really must be drunk if he’s allowing her to stay put rather than politely helping her up and such a public display of affection makes her heart swell.

She has been so disgustingly happy since his surprise arrival in Twelve, incandescently so. To have him so close, within reach, is enough to leave her near giddy. Though she knows it has come under less than ideal circumstances for him- his peacekeeping duties akin to exile- he has seemed happy enough whenever he has been with her. She keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something awful to happen just as it always has, but for three weeks there has been nothing but bliss. Though there have not been ample opportunities to see each other, there have been number enough for her to enjoy his company and all that had to offer, far more than they ever had in the Capitol, and nothing else could possibly make her happier.

She slings her arms around him, dragging her fingers lightly along the nape of his neck as she admires his pretty face. The line of his nose, his cheekbones, his pretty lips. Everything about him seems so impossibly perfect, so handsome and kind and all hers. For a moment, she just stares in awe of him as he chats with Sejanus, his thumb running a soothing line up her hip and under her shirt. That alone is enough to make her heart beat faster as she shifts in his lap, reveling in the feeling of his hand on her. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does- his warm fingers on her already sweaty skin- but she finds that there is nothing she likes more than that now.

Well. Almost nothing.

He leans forward to fetch his mason jar of moonshine, arm tightening around her waist as he does it, and she can feel the bulge of his cock beneath her as they move, already reacting to little more than her weight in his lap. Perhaps it’s just the drink, but she swears she feels his breathing speed up when she shifts her hips experimentally, nostrils flaring as he raises his glass to his lips. His eyes turn down to watch her carefully as he drinks, the challenge there clear, and that look alone is enough to make her want to press her thighs together.

Perhaps she should have more willpower, make him truly work for her attention, but she doesn’t see the point in that, not really. Why deny themselves what they really want?

Keeping his eye, she reaches out and takes the jar from him, raising it to her own lips to steal a swig. He watches her intently as she does it, so intense a part of her wants to shrink under his gaze, but she forces herself to sit tall, fighting her wince at the alcohol’s burn as she licks her lips, hands the glass back, and leans into his ear, arms wrapping tighter around his neck.

“Are you busy?” she whispers against the shell of it, attempting to sound as innocent as possible. She pulls back to watch his face as he looks to her, watches as his eyes, hazy and slow, meet her own. She has given nothing away, not really, but he’s so smart, her Coryo, and if the way the lust seems to cloud his eyes at her question is any indication, he knows exactly what she is asking for. Squeezing the back of his neck to encourage an answer, she fights a giggle at the near mechanical way he shakes his head and grins again. “Can I steal you away then?”

Read the rest here :)

[ghouljams]

Could we get Cowboy!Ghost getting drunk off his ass making a fool of himself and being overly affectionate, confessing his love to Goose, all in all just being a mess of a drunk pretty please?

Of course Maelstrom anything for you 💜 I have a cowboy!König in the works for you and more cowboy!Soap "corruption kink" Mactavish cooking.

Simon is absolutely smashed. It's his own fault really, you told him you'd drink him under the table and he hadn't believed you. He isn't used to moonshine, you really should've stopped him before he got to this point, but it was so fun watching him go shot for shot with you. You're pretty sloshed yourself, but he is just... it's cute, it's really really cute.

You're crouched in the grass between his knees, rubbing his thighs, trying to ground him just enough that he won't vomit all over the place. Although that might be a good thing, get some of the liquor out of his system. No, the way he was boasting about being able to hold his liquor makes you think he'd be upset if you let him throw up.

"God, you've gotta get off your knees princess, give a man ideas." He slurs and if you weren't already so smitten with this man you might fall a little harder.

"Alright, shut yer eyes though, don't want you trackin' me with the spins," you wait for him to finish his grumbling and follow your order before you stand. You make the executive(drunken) decision to straddle his lap and he thumps his head onto your chest as soon as you settle on his lap.

His arms circle your waist and you let him hug you close to cuddle. You try not to coo at him as you thread your fingers through his hair, but he's so sweet like this you can't help one little affection. He grumbles more in response.

"Nobody told me you were gonna be a cuddly drunk," you grin, fingers dipping under his mask to scratch the back of his neck lightly. You press your thumb behind his ear, easy pressure points to keep the nausea at bay.

"'M not," you mumbles against your chest, you bite your lip and try not to laugh, "'m jus' in love with you." You are very much not laughing at that. Your fingers still and you feel Simon nuzzle against you, searching for more attention.

"You love me?" You whisper, because you don't want the rest of the group to hear. Their fun dims in the background, your world narrowing to just you and the man in your arms.

Simon hums an affirmative, "Want you to marry me, have my stupid fat babies."

"Babies? Plural?" Your brain latches on to the only thing it can, there's a non-zero chance Simon has blacked out and this is not how youre going to get engaged, "What happened to not fit to parent?"

He tips his head back, resting his chin against your sternum, the stars reflected in those gorgeous brown eyes you love so much. "I could do it with you," he tells you, and your heart could burst at how soft and honest he sounds, "I'm better with you."

God actually maybe this is how you want to get engaged. You want to bottle this moment, this look in Simon's eye, and save it for the rest of your life. His head moves with the steady rise and fall of your breaths, he looks at you like he never wants anything else than what he has right now. Just you and him sitting under the stars, breathing together.

You kiss him and he tastes like the best moonshine you've ever had, like canned peaches and stale tobacco, like the rest of your life, like Simon. His lips move against yours slow and gentle, he can never believe that a girl like you is kissing a guy like him. He savors everything you give him and then some.

The way you look when you wake up, the way you stretch your arms over your head and groan when you think no one's watching, the way you make every allowance for him and never ask him for anything but him in return. Why wouldn't he love you? Why wouldn't he tell you, show you, every chance he got.

"I love you too," you tell him softly, and his chest clenches so tight he thinks he might be having a heart attack out of shear joy.

"I'll get you a ring," he promises, and you really hope he hasn't blacked out because he's going to be real embarrassed in the morning if he remembers this.

"If we're being proper about this you gotta ask Daddy for my hand," you tell him just to watch him pout and shove his face back into your chest.

"Maybe we elope."

[skbeaumont]

"I Remember Everything" | Joel x Reader

Part 2 of Play it Again, a new series where each story is a oneshot, but all are shaped around country songs.

Song: I Remember Everything, Zach Bryan ft. Kacey Musgraves Summary: Ten years after outbreak day, you and Joel try to find a way to forget. In the process he finds things to remember, too Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff if you squint, references to sex, alcohol and drugs, sex but not explicit, trauma, grief, just expect emotional damage basically Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: This ended up being both very angsty and quite sweet. Once again it was written with lyrics from the song pulled into the prose, so do listen as you read. If you've got any song recommendations for this series, let me know!

You were begging me to stay 'til the sun rose Strange words come on out Of a grown man's mouth when his mind's broke Pictures and passin' time You only smile like that when you're drinking I wish I didn't, but I do Remember every moment on the nights with you You're drinkin' everything to ease your mind But when the hell are you gonna ease mine?

The bar is crowded when you enter. Heaving with writhing bodies, hot in a way that has your shirt sticking to your back within moments of entering, a hazy, sharp tang in the back of your nose, a mix of moonshine and sweat.

Ten years today since outbreak day, and it seems everyone in the QZ is in here to forget.

Technically, there aren’t supposed to be any bars in the QZ, but as you squeeze between the crowds you spot two women you know to be FEDRA officers. It’s amazing what they’ll turn a blind eye to when it benefits them. One of the women looks pretty far gone already, leaning against the other with a placid, washed out grin on her face. The moonshine here is cheap, strong, and a poor imitation of anything that would have been served in a bar ten years ago.

You order two double whiskeys, watch the skinny youth behind the bar pour it out into a chipped mug, take it from him and hand over a creased, dog-eared ration card. A small price to pay for an evening of forgetting. You down the first double at the bar, then turn and push yourself on tiptoes to find an empty table, or a quiet corner to hole up in where you won’t be disturbed.

Instead, you find your gaze passing over a familiar figure at the back of the room. Joel’s recognisable even from behind – broader than anyone else in the room, the sloping lines of his shoulders pressing against the frayed seams of the denim shirt he’s wearing. It’s been a few months since you last saw him. You’re not sure where he’s been, maybe off on his smuggling runs; the two of you have never really kept a consistent line of conversation, your meetings generally consisting of a quick catch up and then a long, slow evening using each other to try to forget the hell of life in the QZ and your respective pasts. Unhealthy, probably, but it works for a few hours.

Joel turns where he’s stood and the dim lights in the bar illuminate the side of his face, the strong line of his jaw. He’s wearing a lopsided half-smile, leaning against a shelving unit filled with bottles, talking to a woman with dark hair. He’s clearly drunk: he only smiles like that when he’s drunk. It’s an impressive feat, considering how much you know he drinks on any normal day.

You’re still watching him, sipping your own drink, when he turns his head, eyes locking with yours. You don’t look away. The buzz of the whiskey is starting to sink through you, warm and familiar, and Joel’s eyes are just as intoxicating.

It’s always the same. There’s something about him that has you gravitating to him. It’s attraction, certainly, but it’s deeper than that. There’s so much about Joel you don’t know, so many unanswered questions and unexplained mysteries. But you know he’s like you. You know he’s lost people. You know he’s broken, and lonely, and so fucking angry that it scares him sometimes.

Joel watches you down the rest of your whiskey, eyes flicking to your lips as you lick a stray drop. He’s drunk, far drunker than he should be considering he has to be up at the crack of dawn in the morning for sewer duty.

He only got back into the QZ early this morning, spent rest of the day trying as best he could to get some sleep without resorting to rotgut whiskey to ease his mind. A lost cause, of course. He hasn’t slept without some kind of pill or booze in ten years. Eight hours in and he’d given it up as a bad job, downed a few bottles of home-brewed cider and headed to this hot, loud bar, hoping to distract himself from the date and all that its memory brings.

He hadn’t expected you to be here, and something uncomfortably like gladness settles in his chest as he watches you make your way towards him. All day he’s been on edge, wound up so tight he’s felt like something in him is going to snap, but the sight of you has it retreating, loosening his shoulders more than the piss-poor whiskey has.

He wonders for a moment what this thing you have – this relationship that isn’t a relationship, this love story that definitely isn’t a love story, just a way to forget for a while – would be like if the outbreak hadn’t happened. Would he sing you love songs, buy you flowers, take you to the beach and let your sand-covered hair blow into his face on the drive home?

Ten years since outbreak day, and he’s mostly wondering if you’ll help him forget in a way that the booze and pills he’s been knocking back since this afternoon haven’t managed to yet. Two whiskeys in, and you’re wondering if he’ll ease your mind like the liquor’s eased your tight muscles.

It’s this that carries you both out into the alley behind the bar, has him pressing you into the rough brick wall, hands roaming your body like you’re a route he’s trying to memorise so he can sneak back when the curfew falls. His mouth is hot on yours, his breath tinged with booze and counterfeit cigarettes.

It’s easy where it shouldn’t be; easy to let him lead you through the back streets to his apartment, easy to let yourself fall inside, easy to ignore the empty cider bottles that litter the apartment, the pill bags and loose cigarettes.

The sex is unrushed – it could be called romantic, if you were both other people, if it you weren’t both doing it to forget. The memories of ten years ago retreat for a while as he undresses you; the pain eases as he lays you back, slots himself between your legs and presses himself into you.

The movement of it is calming, familiar. Joel’s strong back under your hands, his muscles shifting and tensing as he thrusts into you, the harshness of his breath at your ear. He’s quiet, usually, hardly lets himself make a sound when he’s inside you, and then leaves before you’ve had chance say goodbye. Tonight, though, he doesn’t. When you’ve finished he rolls himself off of you and pulls you to his chest, wraps a strong arm around your waist and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I missed you,” he whispers into your hair, and the words are so strange that you freeze beneath him, twist back so that you can look at him, see the truth of it on his face.

His eyes are dark in the half-light of the apartment, hazy with alcohol and something else, but they’re serious, his eyebrows furrowed, the creases that have started to deepen over the time you’ve known him lining his forehead.

Because the thing is, you make him forget. But when he’s with you he remembers, too. He remembers what happiness can feel like, the way that joy can take root in your chest and spread into something ethereal, something that Joel Miller doesn’t deserve to feel, hasn’t felt since the world ended ten years ago. He remembers every moment on the nights with you.

He wishes he didn't, but he does.

[sleepyrainart]

Little Bits of Valentine's.

A small series featuring little stories including either OP/JJk characters.

Summary: Receiving nudes from your boyfriend. Including: Mihawk, Zoro, Sanji, Luffy and Usopp.

Warning: Male Nudity.

Mihawk was wondering why he was even here. His drunk ….. acquaintance, hugging him around the shoulders. Leaning most of his weight on him. Since the red head was drunk and having trouble standing. Mumbling about some mundane thing. Mihawk would rather be anywhere else. But Shanks grip was surprisingly strong for someone who lost their wits two hours ago.

“You know, um, what was I saying?” Shanks asks as if he was paying any attention. The only saving grace was the rich red wine he was enjoying. Though the drunk had tried numerous times to get him to drink his moonshine. Mihawk didn't need a sensitive nose to know how foul the drink was, “I know why you won't drink.” Shanks whispers conspiratorially in his ear. A giant grin and evil look in his eyes.

“Oh,” Mihawk sighs and decides it's best to play along. “And why is that?”

“Cause, cause you're scared.” Shanks bursts out laughing, nearly toppling. Mihawk rolled his eyes, too dignified to respond. But Shanks continued to laugh, loudly. His crew joining in. Taking a large sip of wine as he felt his patience slip. “Drink.” Shanks says as he tries to push the bottle to Mihawk's lips. The less drunk man pushing it away.

“Drink.” He whines again, pouting. “Drink.” He repeats with a different inclination. Once again, his crew joins in, chanting out of unison. Another sigh and he finally takes the bottle. Taking a small sip. Everyone boos. It's not like he cares about their opinions. But he does want some peace. So he takes a larger gulp. The clear liquid burning all the way down his esophagus. Settling hot in his stomach.

“Happy?” He asks, and the smiling man shakes his head.

---------- Later ----------

It was late at night or early in the morning. His befogged mind could not decide. Struggling to open his hotel door. He finally gets it open with a victorious sneer. He closes it with his foot. It slams loudly, and he hopes that red-headed idiot hears it, and it hurts his dumb head. Oh, yes, he loves that idea.

So his befuddled mind slips to other things he loves, novels and wine on a stormy night. Tending to his garden and having wine afterwards. You, that's where his drunk mind sticks. You were so pretty it makes him blush. Not that he would ever admit that. He thinks as he stares at his reflection. A drunk thought pops into his mind.

Though it may have been planted by a red-headed idiot. He would be the one to take all the credit. Because it was a really good idea. His hand delves into his pocket. Pulling out his phone. He turns on his camera. Struggling with his delicate fly. Pulling his semi hard member out. It was at that moment his door swings open. The red-headed idiot mistaking it for his room. In his struggle to cover himself, his finger slips. Pressing multiple buttons.

---------- Morning ----------

You're surprised to see a text from Mihawk. He usually prefers to call. Opening it, you see a confusing, blurry image. A smear of red that you're pretty sure is his friend Shanks. But you really can't make out anything.

You were busy doing some menial task. Not really paying attention. Daydreaming about a well deserved vacation. Maybe somewhere tropical, hot sand and lapping waves. Fruity drinks on tap. Mouth watering as you're lost in thought.

A quiet ding, breaking you out of your daydream. You see a message from your boyfriend. Opening it, you sigh, you didn't ask for this. A picture of his half erect cock. You find his lower stomach more appealing, gleaming with sweat. His lower abdominal muscles shining. Sharp hip bone and tasty v. He was so strong it makes you blush.

Turning off your screen and getting back to work. There were twenty minutes until your break. Then, you could return the favour.

You're feeling down, a sad mood overcoming you. It had been an okay day, but you were lonely. Your boyfriend had been away all week. You both tried to make do with texts and calls. But it just wasn't the same.

You decided to ask for something, you've never asked for before. It was an impulsive thought and a quick text. Kinda pervy, and you kinda regret it. But it did take your mind off your bad mood.

Cause now you feel worse. Nerves gnawing at your stomach. He doesn't usually take this long to respond. Phone glued to your hand as you go about your chores. You wake the screen each time it darkens.

No response. You feel like crying, but maybe you're hungry. Deciding a bowl of cereal will have to do. You make it one-handed and struggling. Spilling some milk.

You lean on the counter. Mindlessly shoving spoonfuls into your mouth. Dry eyes still staring at your screen. The battery signalling it's low. So you have to charge it. Deciding to shower. Maybe the hot water will make you feel better.

Going through your lonely nighttime routine. You check your phone as soon as you're done. Still nothing. You almost cry, but you're tired. Going to bed earlier than usually wouldn't be too bad. At least not as bad as just waiting.

Lying awake under the covers, shifting again. Finding no position comfortable. You give up and stare at the ceiling. You don't know for how long but finally your phone dings.

Sanji had sent you a text and you're dreading opening it. Shutting your eyes as you press on it. Cracking one eye open before they fly open in shock. A full mirror selfie. Handsome face, grinning and a blushing. Hair weighed down by water, obviously fresh out of a shower.

Droplets of water contouring his muscles. Your eyes following their downward trajectory. Butterflies erupting in your belly. Looking over the sexy v and to his erection. Standing proud and crowned by golden pubes. Long, hard and thick. An ache between your legs. His mushroom tip flushed red and dripping pearls of pre-cum.

Sorry it took so long, darling. But I just knew it had to be perfect. His next text read with an obscene amount of hearts and kisses. Your heart aches, your boyfriend was so perfect. You should reciprocate.

Luffy tried.

Usopp misunderstood.

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

The Stronger Desires

So, starting off strong, we're doing the request for @cantchoosejust1 first, who lovingly requested a femme fatale reader.

Now, I haven't written anything like this, so hopefully you enjoy my spin on things.

Now, let's see exactly what happens with these two.

*Side note, I may have a poll later regarding a pfp change, just to see everyone's thoughts.*

Warnings: Cursing, canon like violence, sexual innuendos, perhaps even fluff, Female reader

The gif is unfortunately not mine, and Tumblr didn't wanna work with me, so it's from Pinterest.

Anywho

Arthur wished, truly, that he could explain exactly how he ended up in this spot, but honestly he'd be just as lost as whoever he was telling the story too.

The night had started off pretty good in all honesty. The gang had been celebrating, enjoying their success on the last job they'd managed to pull off, drinking, laughing, and causing problems for everyone else around them in the saloon.

The place had been lively. Hell, even Arthur had ACTUALLY been having fun.

The biggest smile on his face as he took a seat in the far corner to catch his breath from all the dancing and singing he'd been doing, which he was sure had made him look like an absolute fool.

He chuckles to himself as he quietly lights a cigarette and places it between his lips.

The Saint Denis saloon was...surprisingly more lively than what he'd expected it to be. Rich folks sure knew how to party properly.

Out of the corner of his eye he spots something, a brightly colored dress, not out of the norm for this place, but, for some reason, this one seemed...different.

He turned his head to look, and he was honestly surprised he managed to keep the cigarette in his mouth with the way it nearly fell open.

The woman wearing the dress was far prettier than the actual dress itself.

A gorgeous face, and absolutely wonderful hair as well.

The only part that didn't quite make much sense to him was the fact that you were all over a fat aristocrat. Balding with an awful mustache, but you seemed to be rather excited to stand next to him.

He couldn't quite understand it, how absolutely stunning you are, yet you're following a man like that around.

It boggled him.

The night continued, as they usually do, but now that he'd seen you, Arthur couldn't quite stop staring at you.

You were absolutely beautiful. You were...stunning, and it was damn near impossible for him to focus on much else.

It was hard not to when they man you were clinging too was a big as a house, and being followed around by at least four body guards.

What he was doing in a saloon he'd never know.

It's pretty late at night when things really start to get confusing for Arthur. It's about here that he'd be a little...confused when trying to retell the tale.

Due to the confusing nature of it all as well as all the apple pie moonshine in his system.

Things seem to be going smoothly, until all the sudden the entire saloon is screaming rather than singing.

Instinct takes over and Arthur's hand grabs the butt of his pistol before he realizes exactly what's going on.

The crowd quickly disperses, and it's then that Arthur realizes exactly what happened.

You, you're what happened.

There, on the floor is the aristocrat, though he's much less lively now that there's a bullet wound through his head.

How the hell he hadn't heard the shot he still didn't grasp.

The body guards all surround...you.

Arthur almost jumped up right then and there to defend you. He could take out all four of them in a matter of seconds, and he knew that, but right as he contemplates it he watches you pull a revolver out from under your dress.

The evening suddenly got much more interesting.

"Back off! Or I'll kill you too, that fat bastard had more money than he needed anyway, and if he'd put his hand up my skirt one more time he was gonna die in a much worse way, so be fucking GRATEFUL!"

Arthur nearly laughs out loud at the venom in your voice. It was...well it wasn't funny actually, it was more...attractive to him than anything.

For a moment you make eye contact with him, and it's a strange sensation, the way the two of you seem to talk with your eyes.

Arthur gives you a soft nod, a small smirk on his face and then he nods towards the saloon doors.

You give a nod in return and Arthur takes it as his que to leave discreetly.

It's only a moment later when you exit the saloon at a sprint, and Arthur holds his hand out for you to grab as he sits atop his horse, a black Shire.

You take his hand and he hoists you up easily, as if you weigh nothing at all.

The moment you're on his horse he takes off, the remaining guards rushing out of the saloon too.

It's only seconds after that, that the sound of the lawmen's whistles can be heard. One of the patrons must have reported the gunshot.

You hold onto Arthur for dear life, an arm around his torso and the other holding out your revolver.

"Nice to meet you mister! I take it you aren't exactly a friend of the government either?"

"No ma'am!"

Arthur laughs at the absurdity of it and keeps riding hard as the lawmen start to gather behind the two of you.

"Quick on your feet back there!"

He states, taking a turn down an alleyway that appeared to be just big enough.

"Thanks, you too, saw you reach for your gun!"

You chuckle to yourself.

"Don't exactly look the rich type. In fact, don't look like the Saint Denis type. I take it you might be in the uh...'bodyguard' business."

"If ya mean shootin' fools who deserve it, then yes, I am."

"Yeah, that's what I mean."

"Arthur Morgan."

"Y/N L/N."

"Nice to meet ya. Let's get the hell outta here."

Arthur did his best to do just that, out running the law as quickly as he could get his poor horse to go.

Finally after quite some time the two of you make it into the woods, just outside Saint Denis, the sound of the lawmen steadily fading.

You're nearly out of the woods, metaphorically of course, when a stump seems to have other ideas.

Arthur and you both go flying off the horse, and directly into the mud below.

It's dark as hell and Arthur has no clue exactly where he is, and you just barely do.

Both of you are covered in mud and Arthur's horse: Mayhem, is currently writhing on the ground attempting to right itself.

You sit up in the mud, scoffing and trying to wipe mud off your face as Arthur does the same.

"Christ Alive..."

Arthur groans, flicking his arm downwards, trying to get the mud off.

You do the same, looking at him with a look of disgust on your face, only for a moment, before you start laughing.

"Well, Mr. Morgan, how very kind of you to dump me in the mud like this."

"Well I didn't mean-"

You laugh and stand up, before you tear off your skirt, now soiled with mud, to reveal your pants underneath it.

"I needed to get that thing off anyway, I was about tired of it."

You reach your hand out, and Arthur takes it, a sort of sheepish grin on his face.

"Well, glad ya ain't too mad at me."

"Nah...you ain't crossed the line just yet cowboy."

Arthur laughs this time and pulls his hand away to run it over his stubble in an attempt to try and get the rest of the mud off.

"I'll be stinkin' for weeks with this stuff, even if I take a damn bath at the hotel."

He sighs and takes his hat off, wiping mud off the brim.

He looks up at you.

"So...Miss L/N...You...sure seem more than capable of takin' care of yourself...I assume you got somewhere you can hide out for a bit until the law gets off you?"

"Course I do."

You laugh and step closer. You take the hat from his hand and gently place it back on his head, pressing your hand to his chest in the process.

"All worried about me there, Mr. Morgan?"

"Worried? No. Curious? Yes."

You offer yet another chuckle and then step around him, letting your hand travel over his shoulder, gently taking it away as you step closer to his horse, and offer it an apple from your bag that had been hidden beneath your dress.

"Well Mr. Morgan...if you're so interested, I suppose you'll have to bump into me again sometime soon, won't you? After all you did save me back there...even if you threw me into the mud afterwards."

"Hey I said-"

"So defensive."

You tease and step back towards him, you flick his hat, making it tilt upwards slightly.

"Send me a letter sometime Mr. Morgan...I could use someone like you for some of my...endeavors. If you're willing that is."

"Depends...You ain't gonna make me dress up and sing the can can are you?"

"No, I wasn't but...now I might."

You laugh and look towards Saint Denis' in the distance.

"Well...Mr. Morgan, if you could do me a favor and drop me off near Rhodes...I think I'd be forever in your debt."

Before Arthur could really register it, that's exactly where he was, stopped in front of the Rhodes train station, holding something you'd given him as he watched you climb onto the train.

A heavy locket, sat in his palm, as well as a handkerchief you'd insisted on giving him, with your initials sewed into the corner of it.

You smile at him, and wave from your seat as the train pulls away, and something within Arthur tells him that it won't be the last time that he sees you.

He couldn't quite remember exactly how he'd managed to end up here. In all complete honesty, the only thing he really knew for certain was that you were....something, that was for sure. Spitfire and kick to you.

He'd see you again. he'd make sure of it.

Okay, so, like I said, this is slightly different than what I write, not by much, but it is a little different, so I hope it was good, and I hope that you enjoyed it! As always, I'm always happy to rewrite something if it doesn't hit the spot just right!

[mwolf0epsilon]

A Disgraced Trooper's Last Resort

Corrie moonshine has the kind of punch that can knock your teeth out. It's bootlegged with whatever they can find that won't outright kill them if it settles in their stomach, but definitely strong enough that it would sooner be considered outright gutrot than an actual FDA approved drink.

Not something your run of the mill liquor license or health insurance would cover.

Not that Fox really concerns himself with either of those things as he takes a swig from his lucky flask. To him a drink is a drink, especially when he feels like he needs it most. And he did need that extra push of liquid courage tonight more than he ever had before.

To put it simply, he was between a rock and a hard place. Relations between the GAR and the Guard were at an all time low. And, despite his Corries saying otherwise, it was all his fault.

He'd stumbled and made some terribly misguided mistakes. Grasped at tantalising straws that he'd hoped would be his and his men's salvation, only to fail time and time again. Burying himself and his troopers deeper and deeper in a grave that had been prepared for them since arrival. Eagerly applauded by the man who'd made them all his fools and jesters.

He'd botched Commander Tano's capture and then shot a brother dead. And not just any brother either. He'd shot one of Rex's boys. The only surviving one that he'd claimed from the defunct Rishi Moon outpost.

The heat was on high and everyone he loved and cared for was suffering terribly for it.

From his commanders to the shiniest of shinies. All because he couldn't win against Palpatine. He was in too deep and had no allies that could get him and his men back out of this deep dark pit. At least not any allies that had any real power.

Fox was playing a game that he simply couldn't win. But maybe he didn't have to...

Taking another swig of the flask, Fox contemplated the only logical conclusion he'd reached in the last couple of months, as he'd noticed just how much things had deteriorated. Contemplated this rather outlandish plan of his that was very much a last desperate call to set things right.

It all came back to flimsywork and the world of bureaucracy. Things he hated but was much too intimately familiar with. He'd submitted the performance report a month ago before settling for another round of the waiting game. Detailed what needed to be scrutinised, and omitted what most definitely didn't. His idea was a little out there but not unheard of, especially with the observations he'd dutifully jotted down to back up his decision.

And then there was the matter of tempting the Chancellor with something he couldn't quite resist, which he thought he'd done so beautifully. If he was good at anything besides suffering through logistics and political nonsense, it was nicely baiting a trap of his own.

As soon as Fox made his next move, a few things would change. Hopefully for the better. Not that his men would understand. At least not at first... But it had to be done. He'd made the assessments and he had certainly done his homework. As soon as the report was called in for review to pick his successor, they would very easily concede to his wishes.

Due to the current losses and supposed number of decomms, there were simply not enough skilled guardsmen for it to justify promoting their most veteran commanding officers. Thorn would be barred the position of marshal commander due to both his position as head of the prison force, and his constant requisitioning for escort missions. So would Stone, who was far too proficient in his senatorial guard duties to be pulled aside as a glorified secretary to the Chancellor. And Thire would need to take time off to train a replacement officer to guide the patrolsmen due to having the best knowledge of Coruscant's layout, making him the most effective patrol co-ordinator they had ever had.

And time was not something anyone could spare on Triple Zero.

And, with no one else nearly as experienced or simply far too important in their current positions, that left only one option should the position of marshal commander ever open up: Requisition a trooper just as skilled as Fox himself from another battalion.

Which is exactly what he'd done when he'd submitted the report. Should he be incapacitated or destroyed, command of the Guard would fall to the only person he trusted to be capable of leading them. Or, in Fox's true motivation, that had the actual power to put an end to Palpatine's sick little games.

And the best part? No one would call into question his choice on the matter. He'd waited more than enough after he'd submitted the report for it to register as valid on record, even after he did what he was about to do.

Which is why, as Fox finished emptying his flask as he stood on the very roof of the Senate building, he couldn't help but smile. Smile and wish Cody the best of luck. The bastard was going to need it, especially when Fox knew Palpatine would rejoice at taking something, anything, from General Kenobi who he seemed to so greatly despise.

The neon lights and smell of chemicals and pollution greeted the disgraced marshal commander as he stood at the very edge of the roof. Ready to make a spectacle of this. Ready to set his own twisted little game into motion. Palpatine had won the first few rounds, but he would not be able to best Cody. Not with the reputation he had, nor the esteem he'd earned. Which was exactly what Fox was counting on.

And, as he flung himself forward towards his inglorious demise, he hoped against all hope that Cody's fondness for his general was a mutual thing and not once-sided. If just so his little brothers in the Guard could finally have a chance.

He was, quite literally, taking a leap of faith.

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

I'm so glad I found your account! You guys are very talented <33

I know canonically Mortdecai isn't, uh, amazing with kids but what if a Marigold members daughter started hanging around the building (like Ivy did when she was younger) and she reminded Mortdecai of one of his sisters (Esthers moodiness or Roses cheeriness)? I'd love some headcanons about the scenario^^

I wasn't going to write this until later but I absolutely had to jump ahead of schedule and write this because it nagged at my mind almost all week. You even started an AU for the other mods and I, anon. This little idea is so tasty and adfghfgferhrj

You are the biggest brain and I hope you don't mind that me and Iphiko (and maybe even Rory!) had a little taste of this drink ourselves first. Different bottle, don't worry, we haven't touched any of what's in your hand right now

Also thank you so much for your kind words! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying these things (as if the inbox flooding wasn't proof enough), it makes us Lackadaisy Moonshiners so happy and gives me an excuse to keep writing. You're all awesome!

At first, it almost stings. He still remembers Ivy, after all; her wandering around following Viktor or whoever caught her eye whenever she could. It was cute. Adorable, even.

But Mordecai seems to be the target of this little beast's attention. And no amount of waving her off, gently pushing her away with his foot or annoyed threats will get her to pick someone else.

The Savoys are enamored with the little bugger. Serafine started calling her "Bébé Couteau" (Baby Knife) after being allowed to teach her some knife tricks (why Asa let them put a knife in the hands of a kitten, Mordecai will never know) and Nico picked up the habit of startling the little girl by picking her up and spinning with her...Which slowly evolved into throwing her across the bloody bar into Serafine's arms after an accident that resulted in the kitten getting yeeted by a distracted Nico (apparently she loved it (and to Serafine's credit, she ran like Hell to catch her); so it's not exactly safe but it's okay??)

Several speakeasy attendees mistake her to be Mordecai's kitten since she's always hanging around him (and especially so if she's a Tuxedo cat). It probably doesn't help that he loudly objects to the twins throwing the kitten back and forth like a football and has even ripped her out of their arms once or twice

They also (correctly) assume that he calls the shots when it comes to her. If she's making trouble or is heading somewhere that she shouldn't be, someone has to work up the courage to tell that ferocious shadow of Asa's. It's him, the queen cat that looks like she's constantly considering stabbing you or the heartthrob at the bar vicious son of a bitch who always looks like he knows that he's better than you

It's an unspoken rule between the three that Mordecai's word is law when it comes to the kitten. He hates this and is sure that they just use this as another excuse to tease him.

Asa scares the Hell out of the poor little thing. He tried greeting her once and she burst into tears and ran to Mordecai so he could protect her. The twins thought this was hysterical: the kitten adores the ground Mordecai walks on, laughs at Serafine's threats and thinks Nico throwing her at a soft target as hard as he can is the bee's knees; but Asa Sweet-the big fat cat with the softest features out of all of them-scares the living daylights out of her.

Mordecai thinks the kitten has a good judge of character sometimes. If it wasn't for her love of the chaotic duo he'd say that out loud

They brought the kitten along to a "meeting" once when she were sick with a fever. She cried when Mordecai left the car and Serafine refused to leave until she was comforted or at least sleeping, so (after some arguing and sweet-talking) Mordecai went back for her. When he didn't leave the vehicle for a few minutes, the Savoys went on without him.

They came back to find him reading a book, the kitten snuggled up against his side and sound asleep tucked under his coat and arm. The soft look in Morde's eye told Nico that maybe this wasn't the time to be teasing him.

This didn't stop Serafine. Mordecai hasn't heard the end of that event. (Asa also gave him some Hell for leaving the twins to do the dirty work, but Serafine and Nico shut him down pretty quickly-they found whatever crate he wanted, no witnesses are around to tell the tale, the job was done just fine and the kitten needed him more than they did. Shut up, Mr. Sweet.)

Whoever's daughter the kitten is, they'd better learn to deal with Mordecai becoming her guardian angel of death. If she doesn't have a parent and just wandered in somehow, she's gonna end up with something better: an aunt that'll teach her to kill and how to stay strong, an uncle that'll toss her around like a hot potato and teach her to be fearless and another uncle that'll pretend to not care for her until someone looks at her the wrong way.

Mordecai, Serafine and Nico. Probably the worst-fitting cats to be any kind of parental figures, yet ones that will guard a mutually-adopted kitten until their final breaths-whether they'll admit to it or not.

[skzsauce01]

Over the Moonshine

Synopsis: Although you enjoy dancing during your outings to 44th House, you are far more interested in one of the bartenders working there. Your siblings will never let you live it down, but their teasing is a small price to pay if you can spend time with Chan. 1920s/Prohibition AU.

Warning: alcohol

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: f!reader x bartender!Bang Chan

Other Notable Characters: Yeji and Hyunjin as your siblings

Prohibition was meant to be a boon for the country, but it has been more of a nuisance than anything. Father has the doctor coming to the house nearly every week to write him prescriptions of whiskey, and Mother awaits new shipments of grape bricks from California to turn into wine. Lest one think that only your parents defying the law, your brother knows runners for rum, and you and your sister have successfully made moonshine multiple times.

Really, if you think about it, it’s the government’s fault for foolishly believing they could force temperance onto its citizens. Prohibition. What a seductive word. It practically encouraged misconduct.

As you step out of the car, the autumn chill sending shivers down your spine, a familiar thrill envelops you. Speakeasies are nothing new, and though this is your fifth time visiting 44th House, you feel as if lightning is coursing through your blood. Inside your beaded bag hides a sample of your latest moonshine batch. Yeji has secured her own silver flask to her garter for her to sip on throughout the night, but you intend to share your portion with someone special.

“I should have worn my cape,” Yeji says as she links her arm through yours. The beads of her dress clack against yours, and her fur stole tickles your bare arms. “You were smart.”

“You’ll dance and drink the cold away,” you assure her, eliciting a laugh from her. “Hyunjin, what’s taking you so long? Your hair’s fine.”

He gives his reflection one last check in Yeji’s compact mirror before handing it back to her. You were deliberate with your appearance tonight as well, yet you itch to tease him for his vanity. The temptation grows even stronger when he pauses his walk down the pavement to adjust his tie.

“The wind mussed everything up on the drive,” he complains. 

“Should’ve taken the coupe like I suggested,” Yeji replies. She glances over at you, and a familiar mischievous expression crosses her face. “Unless you’re trying to impress someone with the Rolls Royce? Finally got a girl, have you?”

Before Hyunjin can retort, you archly add, “Who’s the lucky lady? Should we start planning the wedding, or will you break her heart like you did with the last one? She still calls the house, you know.”

“You’re both awful.”

While you and Yeji titter over your brother’s missteps in love, he knocks on the front door of the building. Above the golden “44TH STREET ANTIQUES,” the small window at eye level slides open. A set of dark brown eyes peer out, and a disembodied voice asks what they can assist you with. Changbin, you realize, which means that someone else is working the bar in his place, most likely Chan.

“I’m looking for a silver pocket watch engraved with the name ‘Paris Singer,’” Hyunjin says. 

The door unlocks and swings open, revealing the interior of an antique shop. Mahogany dressers and wing chairs line the walls of the establishment, and silver tea sets sit behind locked cabinets. Though the items themselves are pristine, the faint smell of dust hints at the amount of history the shop holds. Whatever many secrets these pieces hold, the only secret you wish to uncover is hidden behind a silk screen printed with birds: the staircase leading to where the true 44th House is. With only flickering light fixtures for guidance, you descend.

“Excited to see your beau, Miss Railroad Heiress?” Hyunjin says. The jazz music grows increasingly loud as you near the basement. “You think he’ll give me the good gin if I ask him nicely this time?”

How Chan managed to pick you out amongst the crowd is still a mystery to you, especially since you were nowhere near Hyunjin and Yeji at the time. The Hwang sibling trio is instantly recognizable together but separate? Just ordinary, albeit beautiful, faces.

“He’s not my beau.” Yet. “And how do you even know about that name?”

Yeji hops down the last step with grace, landing onto the stone floor with a satisfying clack. “Because we’re not deaf, Miss Railroad Heiress. Now come back with something good for us, please and thank you.” 

She smiles innocently at your exasperation, takes your arm, and guides you to the final door. When Hyunjin pushes it open, the whole world erupts with jazz and laughter, bringing an instant grin to your face. Men in pastel striped shirts and women in gold embroidered dresses swing and sway together, arms and legs snapping back and forth. The live band and flapper girls on stage encourage onlookers to join the rest of the party.

As expected, Yeji and Hyunjin forget about teasing you in favor of the dance floor. Meanwhile, you stick to the sides, weaving between the tables to make your way to the bar. A tipsy woman runs her hand through your fur cape and compliments you, and another woman trills with glee when she notices the number of beads you have on your person. 

A man drinking with his friends calls, “Find me for a dance later!”

“Oh, I will!” you shout back. You blow him a kiss, to the amusement of the table, before disappearing into the crowds once more.

Even from a distance, you spy Chan chatting up a patron as he pours him a drink. Minho is on the other end of the bar, showing off his skills with a tin shaker. Neither of them have a jacket on, only a black vest, so they must be exceptionally busy. Saturday evenings always are. Well, that has never stopped you from flirting with Chan before. You’d rather dance with him rather than a stranger, but a dance is a dance, no matter who it’s with. 

After Chan finishes someone else’s cocktail, you take their place, prop your arms on the wooden counter, and flash him a coy smile. “Hey, bartender. Can I get two bee’s knees and two of something made with this?”  

You pull out your flask of moonshine and slide it across the bar. Your initials are monogrammed on the front in curling letters, and your heart jumps when he brushes his thumb over the grooves. “You can give it a try if you like. Made it myself.”

“Did you really, Miss Railroad Heiress? You didn’t strike me as the sort to mess with a distiller,” he remarks. Nevertheless, he unscrews the top and takes a sip. “Not half bad. Be better in a ward eight though. Two, you said?”

“Yes. One of them’s for you.”

His arm hangs in mid-air, the bottle of lemon juice forgotten. “For me? How come?”

“I brought my moonshine because I wanted you to have a taste, so why not? Besides, you just said it would taste better in a ward eight. Let’s put it to the test.”

He laughs and starts again. You watch him pour and mix with fascination, and a childish delight washes over you when he drops two maraschino cherries into one of the glasses. You’ve asked for at least one cherry in every one of your cocktails at the 44th House. Changbin rarely obliges if the recipe book doesn’t call for it, but Chan never forgets.

He hands you back your flask and taps his glass against yours. “Here’s to you, Miss Moonshine.” 

The drink is perfect—sweet with a hint of lemon. You pluck out a cherry floating at the top, pull off the stem, and thoughtfully chew on the fruit. “Is that my new name?”

“There are two Miss Railroad Heiresses running around, after all. I need some way to tell them apart.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that Yeji also knows her way around a distiller. But as far as you know, Chan has never spoken to Yeji before and likely never will since she sends you to the bar in her stead, so your skin tingles with fire as you hear the words “Miss Moonshine” roll off his tongue. It’s just as alluring as “prohibition.” Maybe it’s the whiskey talking.

(It’s definitely not.)

“Let me get your other drinks,” he says. Then he leans in conspiratorially close, his eyes glimmering under the honey-colored lights. “Stay until closing? I’ll do my best to sneak a dance with you.”

Before you can reply, a man in a herringbone suit saunters up to the counter and asks for a Chicago fizz. He glances over at you with practiced nonchalance, and you realize that it’s the same person who you blew a kiss to. He’s quite handsome up close, even if his airs are rehearsed. 

“Hello again,” he greets. His smile is dangerous, reminiscent of a serpentine path you drove on once in the countryside. “Are you free, by any chance? If I remember right, you promised me a dance.”

Chan has reverted to being a bartender, measuring syrup with a careful eye while eavesdropping on the conversation occurring in front of him. You’re a flirt but only with Chan; he has nothing to worry about. Unfortunately, he can’t read minds, so he sets down two bee’s knees in question: Will you stay until closing?

You consider pretending that the music is loud enough to drown out the stranger’s voice, but he seems to be the persistent sort. Reluctantly, you pop the remaining cherry in your mouth and tug the stem out from between your teeth. “What was your name again?”

“Seungmin.”

“One dance,” you agree. “But before and after that, I’m busy until the night ends. Thank you again, Mister Bartender.”

Chan relaxes and nods in acknowledgement. While Seungmin waits for his Chicago fizz, you take the drinks and roam around the speakeasy, looking for Yeji and Hyunjin. The room has grown more crowded, and a thin layer of perspiration graces your back. You press one of the sweating glasses to your cheek as you scan the groups that have formed. Yeji was the smart one, not you. 

You eventually find Hyunjin surrounded by a gaggle of women. His hair and button-down are more disheveled than they were after the drive, yet he doesn’t seem to care a whit now that he has admirers. He may deny it, but he thrives off of attention.

“Whose heart are you breaking tonight?” you ask as you slink up to the table. With two out of the trio present, a few of the more timid ladies make way for you. “Should I prepare apology flowers in the morning? And where’s Yeji?”

To his credit, he doesn’t blush at your comments. He’s more enamored by the cocktails in your hand. “Somewhere. What are these?”

“Gin. I still have some of my whiskey, if you want. We’re staying until they close tonight, by the way.”

After being subjected to tasting your previous moonshine experiments, he no longer enjoys whiskey, so he accepts the gin. “Sure. Did your friend make this?”

A wave of giggles courses through Hyunjin’s flock, and an image of your name in the society papers appears behind your eyelids. If you are to land in the papers again, it will be of your own volition, not Hyunjin’s mouth. “Any one who can make a good drink is a friend of mine. I’ll call the florist later.”

Before he can retaliate, you scurry off to find Yeji who is “somewhere.” After mistaking a woman with a similar stole for her and dodging a gallery of swinging limbs, you spy her in the middle of the floor, doing the Charleston while spectators observe her. With a blood orange drink in hand, Seungmin is among them, watching Yeji with curiosity. When she finally spots you, she dances her way over to you, onlookers cheering her on, and snatches the refreshment from your hand.

“Send Chan my thanks,” she says in between breaths. She leans against your shoulder and tries to pass off her stole to you. “Please? You’re not doing anything.”

As if he can sense your exasperation, Seungmin emerges from the sea of people and extends his arm out to you. “How about it?” 

You shoot your sister a pointed look. “I’d love to.”

You’re not as nimble as Yeji or as limber as Hyunjin—few people are—but your footwork is on par with theirs after years of practicing with them, and your passion makes up for the rest of your lacking skills. Seungmin is a decent partner, in spite of his attempts to chat with you throughout. 

“You sure you’re not free later?” he asks after the song ends. Flushed with exertion, he loosens his tie. “Not even for a drink? I’ll buy.”

“I can buy my own, thank you.”

You say your goodbyes to Seungmin and collapse against Yeji, who has sweet-talked a departing party into giving up their table for her. As she helps you shrug off your cape, you open your bag for your flask. The whiskey pleasantly stings as it goes down.

“Have you given up on Chan already? Your new guy is a looker, but I like Chan more.”

You explain to her the details of your arrangement, fully anticipating her to tease you throughout.  And she does. The wedding invitations will read “Miss Railroad Heiress and Mister Bartender,” and the wedding itself will take place at 44th House in honor of your first meeting. As she continues, you shut your eyes and do your best to concentrate on the surrounding conversations. You don’t care about the latest stove innovation, but it’s far less maddening than Yeji. 

In the midst of it all, having missed the company of his sisters, Hyunjin joins the table. No one trails after him, no one comes up to drag him away, which would have been favorable. What a disappointment; no hearts will be broken tonight. Worst of all, he, too, gives you grief for being enamored by Chan.

“Should I let you drive the car home, so you can impress him?” he says, earning a sigh from you. “Now that I think about it, you did insist on taking the convertible.”

“And you took an awful long time fixing your hair before we left!” adds Yeji. “Really, you and Hyunjin are more alike than you think.”

“Hey!”

How else will you pass the time if not for your bothersome brother and sister? You let Hyunjin argue for you and permit your eyes to wander to where Chan is still working. Dozens of patrons surround the bar, so you can only catch glimpses of him through the gaps between heads. You doubt he saw it, but what did he think of you and Seungmin? While some people get easily jealous, others recognize that sometimes fun is fun, no ulterior motives.

After enduring another five minutes of Hyunjin and Yeji’s bickering, you decide it’s time for a change of scenery.

“What do you want to drink?” 

“Mojito, extra lime. Make sure he knows about the Rolls Royce.”

“And don’t forget to tell him the wedding date. Jack Rose for me.”

The crowd hasn’t thinned out in the short time it took for you to arrive, so you patiently wait by studying Chan’s bartending skills. How long has he done this for? From handling a large bottle of vodka to garnishing drinks with mint leaves, all of his motions are deft. During the fifth cocktail, he notices your presence out of the corner of his eye and begins adding flairs to his process—a little twirl of the stick, an extra tall pour. When it’s finally your turn, he leans against the counter and meets you halfway. His eyes flicker with golden light.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he says before you can get out a word. “Miss Moonshine, can I be the next to dance the Charleston with you? I promise I’m a better dancer than the last guy.”

Astonished, you blurt out, “You saw it!”

“Of course I did.” Almost sheepishly, he adds, “You’re all I see.”

Your skin prickles as if you’re standing outside in the cold, but your cheeks are aflame. “The speakeasy doesn’t need you?”

“Minho’s got it handled. Come on now.”

You highly doubt Minho can man the bar by himself, but you nonetheless take Chan’s hand and lead him to the center of the building. You hear Yeji’s giggles and Hyunjin’s smug remarks as you pass by, but your annoyance is soon drowned out by the merriment of the other patrons. Soles slap against the floor in quick succession, and you nearly lose an eye to a flying string of pearls. 

Chan places his other hand on your arm. “You’re pretty good, but do you think you can keep up with me?”

His teasing rouses you further, so you put more energy into your steps. A little more bounce and a little more snap, just as he did when he was mixing drinks. The people surrounding you slowly inch away when you grow more excited, and you gladly use all of the space around. 

“Show-off,” Chan laughs when you momentarily let go of his hands to perform a series of kicks. 

You finish with a flourish and playfully bow when he starts clapping.  “It’s what I do best. How long do I have you for?”

“Not that long,” he admits, taking your hands again, “but come back tomorrow? I’m off then, so you’ll have me all to yourself.”

He winks, leaving you in a stupor as he guides you back to Yeji and Hyunjin. This is not how it’s supposed to be; you’re the one who does the flustering around here. You’re certain you have a silly smile on your face because as soon as he leaves, Yeji pounces for answers.

“What happened?” she questions. “Did he kiss you?”

“More like she kissed him,” Hyunjin drawls as he snaps his fingers in front of your eyes. “Have you died or what?”

You push his hand away, glaring at him when he pretends to have been injured. “No one kissed anyone. Just a dance. Geez, it’s like you two are trying to get me in trouble. Let’s go before someone actually hears you.”

Hyunjin grabs your cape for you, not in a gesture of kindness, but so he can toss it at you and laugh as you struggle to catch it. “You could’ve at least gotten us our drinks before you decided he wasn’t worth it. Where are we heading now? Bellamy’s?”

“I’d rather go home,” you answer.

Yeji links one arm through yours and the other through her brother’s, effectively creating a human fence that others have to walk around. “So you can sleep and dream of him?”

“One day,” you declare, “you’ll get a crush, and I will never let you breathe again without mentioning their name. Hyunjin will join in, and you’ll get a taste of your own medicine.”

As expected, the drive home is riddled with poor jokes and pointless retellings of the night. It is the same when you head back to 44th House the following night. You’d rather Yeji and Hyunjin not be in the establishment at all, but reassurance is always welcome, even if it does come with a side dish of pestering.

Minho is the gatekeeper this time, and he regards you with some contempt for last night’s endeavor. Your half-hearted apology is responded with a grunt and a reluctant opening of the door. 

You inhale the scent of the antique store, run a finger across the back of a velvet chair for luck. Your whole body hums with energy as you descend, and the trumpet horns on the other side of the walls only increase the tension. Why are you nervous? You have no reason to be.

At the bottom of the steps, you say with gravity, “Both of you, stay away from me tonight.” 

Then you run into the crowd before they can follow. As the uproar rings in your ears, you scan the interior as you cut across the room, wincing when the overzealous tuba player blasts a note in your direction. Someone spills part of their drink onto the tops of your heels, and though you feel the liquid seeping between your toes, your main concern is finding Chan. You pause whenever you see a man in a black vest. Would he wear a similar outfit to his uniform on his night off? Likely, no, but you have no other basis for his attire.

“You’re here! Finally.”

You turn around to see Chan that has found you first. His grin shines like a crescent moon against his dark pinstriped suit, but there is nothing sinister about his expression.

“How do you do it?” you ask, slipping your arm through his. His face colors with a faint shade of pink. “You always seem to know where I am.”

“To be honest, I’ve been watching the door all night. Should we get something to drink first?”

As it turns out, you are correct to tell your siblings to stay far away from you because after sharing some potent moonshine, you kiss Chan by the bar. Everyone in the vicinity witnesses it, so you’re bound to end up in the papers tomorrow, but you don’t care. It’s Yeji and Hyunjin’s fault for putting the thought into your head. Most importantly though, this is the happiest you’ve been.

Prohibition. What a lovely era.

[crying-wolves]

hi!! why stress when you can be in a fictional world??

so i kept seeing my ex this week 🫣 after not seeing them for a year 🥴 and im over her but it’s like first gay love you know? that shit fucks you up!!!

i kept thinking about abby and how i wish i could text her 😭😭 like babe come pick me up PLEASE

so yeah maybe something around that?? i think we all need some abby comfort

You usually weren’t known for making mistakes.

Seriously, as overconfident and precise as it sounds, you were always the smart one. Level-headed in a way that pissed your friends off when all they wanted to do was go a little feral. Experiment. Let whatever happens, happen.

Yeah, you didn’t buy into that whole “let the universe make your choices for you” moonshine. Didn’t appeal to you in the slightest.

So why, oh, why are you spending your Friday night standing outside of a crumbling sports bar, rubbing at those tears that threaten to fall from your eyes onto the ground below you?

You guess the universe pushes and pushes until it finally has its way with you in the end.

Your fingers had dialed practically everyone of your four roommates in the past 10 minutes that you’ve been standing out in the balmy summer air, but, of fucking course, each call went straight to voice mail every single time.

Figures! The one time you decide to do something out of your comfort zone and everything starts spinning off its axis immediately.

The idea of calling an Uber flits across the back of your mind, but you really don’t want to spend anymore money tonight, having already handed your card over to the bartender enough times that you were thoroughly buzzed and feeling that if you checked your bank account right now, all of those vodka sodas would come racing back up your throat. Hard pass.

It isn’t until you scroll through your contacts for the fifth consecutive time and land right back at the top, however, that you stop to consider what may be the most obvious answer of the night: Abby Anderson. Fuckin’ duh.

Abby “Permanent Designated Driver” Anderson. The girl who has decidedly quit drinking altogether after deciding that she really wants to take her whole softball career seriously. Abby Anderson who is always, always wide awake into the deep recesses of the night, cramming for her 8am or putting in a few last minute hours at the gym.

Abby Anderson, sweet, sweet, Abby, somehow bestowed with the patience of a saint and the subtlety of a freight train, who will definitely pick you up, but won’t hesitate to ask what you’re doing at this ratty old place at 2:30 in the morning.

It’s probably a lot better than practically dragging your way home, so, why not?

You dial the number and she picks up within 3 rings, a little out of breath. You guess she took on the weight room, tonight.

“Yeah?”

Your body stiffens. Fuck! How well do you actually know Abby? You’ve barhopped with her and some other friends in the past, but most of those nights were spent casually sipping at a bottle of soda while you listen to everyone else converse and socialize. When was the last time you actually spoke to her?

“Is this one of those county cop calls that keeps going around campus, cause I’m not signing your fuckin’ petition—“

“No, no!” You blurt out, a little surprised at yourself. “It’s just— I mean, it’s just…me?”

Abby says your name inquisitively through the phone, sounding as startled as you are. “Hey…is everything alright?”

You scan your surroundings as if they’ll give you the answer that you’re looking for, and shrug like she can see you. Could be worse, you guess?

“Are you busyyy tonight?” You slur a little, and she seems concerned at the sound.

“No, I’m, uh, free? Are you in—“

“Could you, maybeee, give me a ride home?”

You think you can hear a ‘pause sound’ moving through her head, or maybe you’re just a bit more drunk than you thought.

“Yeah! Yeah, totally, just…are you off-campus, or—?”

“Mmhmm! I’llsendyouthelocation, byeee!”

You click the end call button and stare st the black screen. Since when did you get so frazzled over talking to her? She sounds the same as she usually does, right? Choosing not to think about it too much, the location is sent her way and, judging by the distance, she should be there in 20 minutes.

She’s there in 15. You hear her before you can actually make out the vehicle in the distance. It’s late. The roads are empty. You didn’t give her much context, so, you don’t exactly blame her for hurrying.

But her car pulls up in front of you like a heavy metal chariot, and you get a little anxious about stepping into the passenger’s seat in your sheer black dress and platform heels.

Neither of you say anything for the first minute and you’re rather grateful. Your insides feel like poorly melted snow, and you’re not sure if it’s the way that Abby’s gripping the steering wheel or the fact that she keeps glancing over at you through the side window. You see your legs shift against the leather seats, but your mind is elsewhere.

“Did you, uh, get to the bar alone?” She begins, tapping her thick fingers against the wheel, sounding like she’s trying to broach something, but you don’t know what it is yet.

You squint down at your phone screen to check the time again. Right. The evening started way earlier than you remembered.

“Nope. Came here on a blind date.”

Abby tries not to react like that shocks her, but she doesn’t quite make the mark.

“You went—! Oh! Right! ‘course! Makes sense…”

Silence, again. The kind that’s unbearable in situations like these. You roll down the window for some fresh air, but it makes the both of you sweat even more.

“Did it…go well?”

You purse your lips together and shake your head. “Nope. She was kind of a dick.”

Abby lets out a breathy chuckle at your answer and you decide to keep going.

“She wasn’t really that into me. Kept chatting up the waitress and interrupting me whenever I spoke. Said she had to leave early to pick up her little brother from his friend’s house, but she said she was an only child when I asked earlier, so…”

“Damn…that’s—that’s rough…”

“Yeah…”

What is with the both of you and pained silences? Seems to be something in the air tonight.

Abby clears her throat while you’re silently moping at the memories, and when you get to a red light, she turns to take you in.

“If it makes you feel any better, the last date I went on snuck out of the back door before dessert.”

You gasp, dramatically, and she rolls her eyes in the same manner.

“No fuckin’ way! You’re tellin’ meee that someone would actually pass up a chance to go on a date with you?” The utter disbelief that you stare up at her with makes her cheeks go pink, and she can’t help but feel a little satisfied with herself. She smiles, a little bitterly.

“Not as much of a catch as you think I am, babe.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Oh, I hardly believe that, Ms. Anderson.”

If there’s one thing you can thank the alcohol for, besides getting you in Abby’s car in the first place, it’s the extra push it gives you to go for the things you actually want.

“You know, Abigail, if you’re into it, we could, maybe, do a repeat performance of our shitty dates with each other, and make them…not shitty? How’s that sound?”

You feel the smile before you see it on her face. It’s like she can bring the warmth of the sun into any space she occupies.

“Well…” she starts “As long as you promise to at least tell me before you sneak out the back, then, we got ourselves a deal.”

You’re giddy with all that light she brings. And, you think, briefly, that sure, maybe you don’t usually make these kinds of mistakes, but at least this one scored you a date with THE Abby Anderson.

So, maybe, possibly, the universe could very well be onto something.

[mystic-hyuck]

hii! if requests are open could i get a minho(tmr) and reader where she hated him and gets drunk and is really clingy with him??(just admiring his hands, sitting on his lap, whining when she doesnt get attention) and hes just confused yet smirking while everyone teases them?? the next day she doesnt remember and is confused why everyones teasing her and she asks minho why?? and its really cute and embarrassing? Thanks 💕

a/n - omg omg omg I'm so sorry this took me way longer than intended to answer but I love this request so much thank you! I hope this is what you wanted <3

requests are definitely open and I'll try to be as quick as I can when it comes to answering them! I write for a LOT of fandoms so feel free to suggest any you like and I'll let you know whether I can write it for you or not! enjoy and have a wonderful day :))

a drunk mind speaks a sober heart (minho x fem!reader)

w/c - 1933

notes - y/n's a clingy drunk and minho isn't expecting her pent up affection, good old enemies to lovers

warnings - mentions of headaches, drinking and alcohol, hangovers and acting drunk haha but nothing too bad at all

Y/N had always hated Minho. There was no real reason behind it, but whenever they were near each other there always seemed to be tension between them. He had always seemed standoffish and condescending to her, and she'd always seemed needy and selfish to him. Both of them knew that there was no real basis to form these assumptions off of, and it was perhaps jealously causing them to be in denial of their attraction to one another, but they were both too petty and stubborn to choose to see their hatred for each other in another light.

The Gladers were throwing their own version of a party this night, gathered around a roaring bonfire to celebrate the arrival of the newest Greenie. Gally had brought out his most recent batch of moonshine and Y/N was grateful as she arrived, having worked a bit later than usual in the gardens. She grabbed the nearest flask, taking a seat next to Newt, one of her close friends and the number 1 Minho and Y/N shipper.

Before she could comprehend what she was doing, Y/N had downed probably one too many drinks. Her mind was fuzzy, but she enjoyed the pleasant feeling, a welcome break from her stressful week. She found herself walking over to her sworn enemy, who watched her cautiously and confused.

"Move over Minho," she whined, gently shoving him to the side. He moved over, allowing her room to sit beside him. He had never seen someone this drunk off of Gally's concoction before, and he had never seen Y/N act so disheveled. He smirked, watching as she rubbed her eyes, before reaching for Minho's own flask of moonshine.

He was quick to pull it out of her grasp, setting it on the floor beside him. Her hand landed on his instead of the flask, and she scowled at him, not moving her hand away.

"I was going to have some of that," she pouted, and Minho ignored the flutter in his chest at her actions.

His smirk slowly spread into a grin. "I don't think you need anymore of that tonight, princess."

The heat rose to Y/N's cheeks immediately at the pet name. She bowed her head towards the ground, trying to hide her blush. Minho laughed at her antics.

"You have nice hands," he heard Y/N say quietly after a moment of silence, grasping his hand that he had forgotten was still touching hers. "They're rough, but that just shows how hard you work." She giggled softly as she turned his hand around in hers, and Minho swore his heart melted on the spot.

"God, how much of that did you actually drink? You never act like this around me, princess."

She giggled again, a little louder this time. "Stop calling me that!" She protested, although her grin contradicted her words.

He looked up at the other Gladers and noticed Newt watching the both of them, smirking. He drew his hand away from hers slowly, still a little confused and convinced Y/N was thinking he was somebody else. Her face slowly morphed into a frown.

"Minhooo," she drew out, reaching across him for his hand again.

Nope, she definitely didn't think he was someone else. So why was she acting like this?

He laughed, stretching his arm away from her as far as he could. She reached across him to grab his arm and pull it back towards her.

"That wasn't nice." Now satisfied she had his hand in hers, she interlocked her fingers with his, surprising him slightly as she scooted closer to where he was sitting.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Minho now choosing to ignore the confusing looks and teasing smirks from the other Gladers at the unlikely pair.

After a while Y/N began to yawn, her eyes fighting to stay open. Before long Minho felt her lean her head against his shoulder, and the butterflies had definitely made their way to his stomach as he watched her. Why was he feeling like this about her?

"I think you should go to sleep now, princess." He said to her quietly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he looked down at her.

"Mm, but I'm comfy here and I don't want to walk," she replied, as she swung her legs to rest on top of his, her head resting against his chest. She was basically sitting on his lap, and Minho was slightly less surprised by the random show of affection at this point, and laughed softly as he gently tapped her calf.

"Come on, you're tired and I don't want to have to carry you out of here."

She giggled. "But you're so strong."

He sighed, hooking his arms under her knees and the small of her back. "You're lucky I'm feeling nice tonight."

He carried her away from the fire into the homestead building, setting her down gently on top of her bed.

"You know, you're pretty cute," her eyes were half closed and her words were slurred slightly, but still intelligible.

He laughed, sitting down beside her on the bed as he tried to coax her under the blanket. He knew she was going to have one hell of a hangover the next morning, and the more sleep she could get the better she'd feel. "You're pretty cute too."

"I wish you didn't hate me sometimes. Because I think I like you a lot." She beamed at him, placing a hand on his cheek. The action left him frozen for a moment in shock, warmth rising to his cheeks.

She leaned towards him, and his racing heart was all he could focus on. He hadn't realised the effect she'd had on him this whole time, from the moment they'd met. He hadn't realised until this moment how much he really wanted to kiss her, wanted to close the gap between them and press his lips to hers.

But he couldn't. She was drunk, and hadn't had an outlet for her affection in a long time. He was just conveniently there in the moment, and it would be more than wrong to take advantage of her current state.

He tilted his head up to press an affectionate kiss on her forehead, standing up and pulling the blanket over her as she laid on her bed, sleep finally taking over. He smiled softly at the sight, cursing himself in his mind for not noticing just how lively she was in the past. He could've taken the time to get to know her, to be on the receiving end of her charming personality and endearment all the time rather than when just when she was drunk. He had never regretted anything more in his life, swearing to himself he would begin to act kinder towards her in hopes to salvage what could at least be a proper friendship between them.

"I think I like you a lot too."

~

Y/N woke up to an intense throbbing feeling in her forehead and a sick feeling settling in her stomach. The Homestead was fairly empty, except for a few sleepy stragglers. She figured after the big night prior everyone would take it fairly easy for the day.

And it certainly must have been a big night, as she could barely pull together any coherent memories of exactly what happened.

She squinted as she stepped outside, the sky clear and showing no mercy as the sunlight blinded her almost instantly.

She sat by the remains of the fire from the night before, nibbling at as much of her breakfast she could stomach. Newt approached her, his own breakfast in hand as he sat beside her.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," he greeted with a smug smirk. "Where's your Prince Charming, Princess?" He asked in a mocking tone, and the nickname sounded awfully too familiar.

"What are you going on about, Newt?"

His grin widened. "Maybe you should ask Minho."

Her heart dropped.

"You never act like this around me, Princess."

She was mortified as she began to remember snippets of the night before. Alcohol had never sat very well in her system, and it didn't take much to bring out a different side of her.

Newt just chuckled as she watched her expression turn from annoyed to terrified. "Don't worry Y/N, Minho didn't look like he minded."

She just glared at him as he stood to leave, clapping her shoulder as he spoke.

What on earth had she done? And to Minho too? Although she spent most of everyday trying to convince herself just how much she hated him, she couldn't help but feel attracted to him at the same time. She was just praying that she hadn't been too open about her hidden feelings.

~

Minho approached her as she cradled her head in her hands, trying to suppress both her headache and her anxiety about what she might've said.

"Hey."

Her heart dropped. He was the last person she wanted to see, even without the ruthless teasing of the other Gladers leaving you confused and horrified of what could possible have happened the night before.

"Uh, hi." She gave him a small smile as he sat down beside her. He looked at her almost cautiously, wondering how much of the last night she actually remembered.

She noticed his lingering stare, the stress of everything becoming too much. She just needed to get the embarrassing part out of the way as soon as she could.

"Ok, I can't stand this anymore, how bad was it?"

Minho directed his gaze at the ground, a small smile appearing on his face. "Um, I wasn't expecting it?"

She felt her cheeks heat up from shame and guilt at his reply. "I don't remember exactly what happened, but I'm so sorry for whatever I did Minho."

"No, no! Please don't apologise, you did nothing wrong. If anything, I like the clingy side of you."

"Clingy?!" she exclaimed, and Minho chuckled. She covered her face with her hands and groaned. Minho moved a bit closer, turning to face her as he gently pried her hands from her face, taking them in his. His affection confused her, but she can't say the contact disappointed her.

"You know, they say drunken words are sober thoughts," he spoke, and she laughed.

"Well, I have absolutely no idea what I said so you're going to have to elaborate a bit."

He smiled. "Y/N, I- uh, I really like you. I don't know why I've acted so coldly towards you this whole time but please trust me when I say it's one of my biggest regrets. You're so smart and funny and hard-working, and I wish I hadn't just kept telling myself the only thing I felt for you was hate. I hope you'll give me a second chance to make it up to you."

She smiled up at him, touched and surprised by his sudden confession, all embarrassment from before having disappeared. With a spur of confidence she leaned towards him, pressing her lips against his for a moment. He was shocked for a second, before collecting himself and moving his hand to cradle the back of her head and the other moving to her cheek, leaning deeper into the kiss. They pulled away after a few moments, short of breath as she leant her forehead against his.

"I'll give you all the chances you need. But you're going to need to tell me exactly what I did last night so the embarrassment doesn't eat me alive."

a/n - thank you so much for requesting! requests are open as always and thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!

[sun-roach]

Coruscant guards headcanons:

General headcanon:

They are an elite corps

They have to be the best of the best

They have to take care of Palpatine, senators, rioters, fugitives, bounty hunters, public safety, the prison, ghouls and other monsters in the lower levels, help out the GAR

The command line has a group chat that has very questionable content

They are understaffed

Rys:

(I don’t remember much of him, only that Yoda told him to get inspiration from his other brother’s)

Doesn’t like people

Keeps mostly to himself

Overcoming some trust issues

Doesn’t like to ask for help

Jek is his best friend and batchmate

Can’t drink

Sometimes clumsy

Jek:

(Like with Rys I don’t really remember him. I think Yoda told him to rely more on his brain instead of his weapon)

Straight forward/ blunt

Growing confidence

Loves his Z-6 rotary cannon

Explosions yay

Has never eaten a waffle

Doesn’t like massiffs

Sergeant Hound:

The actual baby

Loves animals

Has space tock and spacetagram for Grizzer

Very affectionate and caring

Can also be very strict and controlling

Protective af

Will show everyone his precious babies (the massiffs)

Patient af

Has dog snacks in his pockets. Always.

Cute laugh

Always proud when he makes someone else laugh

Offers pet therapy

Has a good nose

Sometimes very goofy

Lieutenant Thire:

The baby of the command line

Actually older than Fox and younger than Thorn

Tired

Tries to be more optimistic

Loves sleep

Very organized

Lawful good

Soft

Short hair cause it’s easier to handle unlike his life

Can sleep anywhere like a cat

Careful in everything he does

Yet gets injured very often

Shares a room with Stone, Thorn and Hound (they could have had their own rooms but they prefer to share)

Commander Stone:

Younger than Fox, older than Hound

Likes to be alone

Makes his own moonshine

Weird af humor no one understands

Doesn’t like to show his emotions

Actually dislikes caf but is forced to drink it

Makes holos whenever he is not on coruscant and sends them into the corrie group chat

A good photograph

Likes rock and metal

Commander Thorn:

Older than Fox

A menace to everyone

Likes to fool around but will be serious if needed

Big heavy guns cause big dick energy

Loves sarcasm and irony

Funny depressed

A Thor fanboy

dyed his hair blond and grew it a bit out

Smart but likes to act dumb smt

Makes the worst caf

Good friend

loves to drink

Probably a taylor swift fan

Commander Fox:

Marshal commander

Was in a batch with Wolffe, Cody, Rex, Ponds, Bly

Wolffe is his older twin

Tired depressed

Insomnia

Refuses or has no time to sleep until he gets sedated

Gifted kid burnout

A good soldier

Dark humor

Sly and smart

Thinks outside the box to get the best results

Thorn's caf destroyed his taste buds

Protective af

Loves his vode sm

Hard shell, soft core

Force sensitive without knowing

Blackouts

Vode killer

Knows everything about Coruscant and could walk blindly trough it

Tormented/ scarred soul

Has his own room for various reasons

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My corrie ocs:

Corrie chief medic Patcher:

He is Ori'vod™️

Was in a batch with Neyo, Bacara and Gree

Loves blue milk

Will patch up anyone and anything

Russian cursive handwriting no one can read

Scars everywhere (literally)

Has several medics under his wing

Lost one eye (it got replaced by a cybernetic one) and dyed the other red

Intimidating af

Trust issues

Will break your bones if it means u heal faster

Protective af

The only one allowed to give Fox medical treatments

Does therapy sessions for his brothers

Can’t smile

Stitch:

Rainbow squads actual baby

Anxious medic

Curious

His face is full of stitches

Soft and gentle

Can appear very calm despite being not

Loves flowers

Out grew his hair a bit

Likes studying

Caring

Smt very tired of his squad (he loves them)

Tea > caf

Sticker:

Rainbow squads baby

Always optimistic and positive

Adventurous

Has no sense of orientation

Loves tooka and shows ppl random tooka holos

ARC

Very smart but also very naive

Can’t sit still

Loves to tinker and engineer or invent stuff

Laid back

Risk blind

Clingy and sticks to people

Cuyan:

Lost his former battalion, went into jail and ended up joining the corries

Pessimistic

Trust issues

Half of his body is burnt

Depressed

Doesn’t know how to show affection

Would rather eat a hamster than admit that he loves his new squad

Sees no point in anything but will live for his squad

Can’t taste anything unless it’s very very extremely spicy or sour or sweet

Redd:

Loves red

A thief

Will steal not only your heart

Sniper

ARC

Flirtatious

Loyal af

Got tortured

Lowkey has an alcohol problem

Looks always good

Good eyes

Easy going

Loves to mess around and break some rules

Tattoos on one of his leg

Tongue piercing

Sergeant Strife:

Loves astronomy

Has a solar system tattooed on his back

K’oyacyi tatt under his eye

Loves harmony

Will solve any problem with his fists

Has a secret boyfriend which is not really a secret

Likes to sew and crochet for all the corries

The only one who can cook a little

Buir of his squad

Has a beard

Serves directly under Thorn

[mr-voorhees-husband]

Hi hi ok I'm not the same anon, just someone else whos slightly too infatuated with Mr. Cobblepot, especially from BTAS. If you're still taking requests, can I get something with him? Dealer's choice, or I'm sure I can come up with a prompt. Thanks so much!

Yelllo! I actually wrote this a while back but I don’t believe I ever published it, so, have this gem!

Warnings: none really, minor alcohol mention, it’s a Christmas party with the rogues

Info: Btas!Oswald Cobblepot x GN(masc leaning)!reader (no gender is explicitly mentioned, but it is slightly implied in like one sentence)

“So, [Name].”

“So, Edward.” you replied, continuing to pour mugs of warm Apple Cider Moonshine. Glancing up for a fleeting moment, you were surprised to see the two green themed heros leaning on the counter, Ivy with her signature smirk, and Riddler smiling like the Cheshire cat. With a sigh, you lowered the pitcher and raised an eyebrow.

“What do you think about Pengy? Think he’s cute?” Isley purred, fully leaning against the counter and walking her fingers up your chest to boop your nose. For a lesbian, she tended to flirt with men plenty, it just seemed to be in her nature, you suppose (pun not intended).

“You know how I feel, Ivy.” you shook your head, lips unwillingly smiling at the mention of the bird-based villain. “He's sweet, cute, unbelievably polite.” Another sigh, this one an odd mix of listful and discouraged. “And way, way, out of my league.”

“Mhmhm.” Edward hummed, waving his hand dismissively at the idea. “Yes- but would you kiss him?”

“No, Edward, I wouldn't,” you drawled on sarcastically as you started to fill the last two mugs, “of course I would! I’d do it in a heartbeat. But he doesn't like me like that, Eddie.”

They shared a look, before slinking out of the kitchen without another word. You sighed, shaking your head as you poured the last mug. “Bane! Mind leadin’ me a hand in here?”

Once everyone had gotten their drinks, some with alcoholic hot cocoa, others with your Apple Cider Moonshine, and Freeze with his eggnog, the festivities had officially started. Edward had a Christmas based trivia game, Harley and Ivy with karaoke, along with several various board games and movies in the background. It was going.. amazing, surprisingly. Jervis and Jonathan hadn't fought once, Harley didn't do a single prank, and Bane didn't break anything by accident.

The night was going great, and now it was time for presents.

“Mine first!” Harley chirped, jumping up before anyone else could. “Or- Emmett's first, technically, but it's from me!” She downright leaped over Jon and Freeze to reach the tree, grabbing a small black box with a red ribbon keeping it closed. Rushing back to the group, she dropped it on your lap with a beaming smile.

“I’m.. Very worried about this.” you murmured, taking a nervous glance at Oswald who was beside you. After everyone else took their seats before him, he was forced to sit next to you, which you far from minded. “This.. This better not be a glitter bomb Harls, because if it is-”

“Just open it!”

“Okay-! Okay.” you sighed, Harley backing away which made your eyebrows raise. “Ozzie, if I go down, will you go down with me?” your words were joking, but nonetheless the less Oswald took them to heart.

“Of course, my dear owl, if you are coated in glitter, I will be too.” He grinned, scooting closer so the box was between you both. One more glance at Harley, and you tugged off the ribbon.

There was a flash of white, before something leaped from the box like a jack-in-the-box, the ‘jack’ now a couple inches above your head, between you and Oswald. you blinked, a bit bewildered, turning to glare at the clown. “Really?” It wasn't angry, more so just confused and a bit annoyed. “Better than last year's glitter bomb…”

“Look up.” Harley giggled, pointing to the jack. Oswald and you did it at the same time, and your eyes widened at the round, tear shaped leaves, and white berries.

Mistletoe.

You both looked at eachother, eyes wide and face steadying turning more red.

“Well?” Ed called from the beanbag he was sharing with Harley, grinning, “what are you waiting for?”

“Oh- I- Oswald, you don't-”

“Dear if you don't want to kiss-”

Silence, both of you staring as realization seemed to kick in. You both wanted to kiss each other, but simply just.. thought the other one didn't. That by itself was a revelation, but right now you had seven of your shared friends watching with bated breaths. you knew better than to keep them waiting, too.

In one swift movement, you ducked down and pressed your lips to Oswald’s. He squawked in surprise, but just as your companions started to cheer, he was kissing back with his hands cupping your hips. Oh, both of you were inexperienced, and the kiss was awkward, but you didn't care and neither did Oz.

You pulled away, face red both from everyone’s collective cheering that their plan had worked and from the kiss, and smiled.

“Merry Christmas, Ozzie.”

[ofstoriesandstardust]

so long, daisy may (lt. bradley “rooster” bradshaw)

a/n: anti-hero belongs to rebel but so does you’re on your own kid and i won’t change my mind. @struggling-with-delia​ has been here for every step and evolution of this piece and i’m truly posting this for her because i honestly never thought this would see the light of day. i am going to hide under a rock until further notice bye. 

summary: It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero. 

originally inspired by taylor swift’s “anti-hero” and “you’re own your own, kid”

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | same mistakes-verse | same mistakes-verse timeline

warnings: nightmares, blood, swearing, jealousy, insecurity, alcohol, brief brief brief reference to an ED if you squint, we were introduced to Petals in the my tears ricochet piece and there was popular demand for me to bring her back, i took some stylistic risks with this one, and it’s that this has no point of resolve and a very abrupt ending, if you hate this don’t tell me because i’ll cry

word count: 3,325

Picking up Bob’s wrist where his watch sits, you glance at the time, rolling your eyes. He looks down at your curiously, sipping his drink. 

The last thing you expected to be the topic of conversation tonight was her. You’d made the mistake of leaning over to your best friend’s phone, being nosy about what he was looking at on Instagram. There’d been a picture of your old teammate, Moonshine, as she’d taken a leave trip to New York City after the Green Vipers short trip to Miramar. 

It’s how you learned she’d been at Top Gun with your best friend the first time around, and subsequently your boyfriend. And apparently most everyone else too. 

The group had now been trading stories of their experiences will her, all glowing. It’d been at least a half hour of this, and you slowly felt like you were losing your grip on your sanity, what with the whiplash Coyote was giving you. He’d been there, watched her follow everyone else and treat you like shit, so where did he get off talking like this?

“Take it you’re not a fan?” Hangman smirks as he raises an eyebrow at you. You shake your head, running a hand through your hair. 

“Not in the slightest.” 

“Really?” Phoenix asks, leaning up against the pool table. 

“Why?” Your boyfriend asks incredulously and you glance at him, shrugging. 

“Just... didn’t have a good experience with her.” 

You didn’t talk much about how awful everyone on the team had been. They knew you didn’t like your old squadron but you were unwilling to detail just how badly they treated you. 

“Gonna need more reason than that, babe.” 

You turn to him. “Well, why do you like her so much?” 

He looks away. “You know... she’s a good pilot. Funny. Life of the party.”

“Pretty too.” Hangman comments, looking between you and Rooster. 

You glance at him. “What? Why do I get the feeling I’m missing something?” Coyote nudges Hangman, shaking his head. Phoenix coughs awkwardly, looking up at the ceiling. “What?” Your boyfriend shifts, setting his drink down next to the pool table, game long forgotten. 

“We... hooked up once or twice when we were at Top Gun the first time.” 

Oh. 

He carefully watches you, waiting for a reaction, but you don’t have one to give him, trying to not squirm from the slimy feeling slithering up your spine. 

“But that’s not why I like her. She’s cool, really good pilot. I don’t know, you don’t meet pilots as genuine and level-headed as her. She’s just.. she’s really... I don’t know, she’s cool.” 

There’s a prickling sensation, something you want to recognize as jealousy. 

You pick up your drink, knocking the rest down your throat. You swallow and set the glass down with a little bit more force than necessary. The noise the movement makes echoes in the silence of the group. “If she’s so cool, you should go date her instead.” 

You pull yourself from your boyfriend’s arm, slipping off the bar stool and moving away from the pool table. 

“Oh Rebel, c’mon, I didn’t mean it like that.” He calls after you but you ignore him in favor leaving the bar. Crossing your arms, you take a deep breath as you walk towards your car. 

Only a month or so in, and despite the years you’d known him, you wouldn’t call your relationship with Bradley anything short of new. 

At times, it felt like no place had ever felt more right than being next to him. At times, it seemed like everything had happened to lead you to be right here, right now. 

Other times though, it felt like one misstep would take you hurling back to the years of animosity. One misspoken word, one argument, would fracture the happy family and fragile peace, leaving your hands littered with glass as you did what you did best. 

Hurt them first, right?

As gross as the two of you were (Fanboy’s words), always so blatantly in love with each other, you were still unsure about if you belonged here. Belonged here, belonged with them, belonged with him. 

It had little to do with Moonshine as a person. You did have to admit, that when her head wasn’t up Ghost and Shadow’s ass, when she wasn’t constantly seeking the approval from others, she was cool. She was funny, was genuine. If she could get away from her “follow the leader” mentality, the two of you probably could’ve been great friends. 

But... You hadn’t been around for Top Gun with this crew. Most of them had known each other since then, and hell a few of them went all the way back to flight school. You were just as new as Bob and it still sometimes felt like you were fighting to earn your place here. 

You still weren’t sure you were cut out for this team, for what the Navy expected from you all. You still weren’t sure that one day you’d be turning around and heading straight back to the Green Vipers. The only two ties you had to this group were your best friend and your boyfriend and if they changed their minds about you... well, you weren’t a fool to think these people would still be friends with you. 

It had little to do with Moonshine as a person. It was what she represented. If she was so great... well, maybe she belonged in your place instead. 

You certainly didn’t disagree. 

- 

You sit at the bar, head propped up on your hand as you watch Rooster clap Bob on the back. He’s startled by the movement, dropping a few peanuts, but smiles the toothy grin at him nonetheless. 

You’d retreated to the bar twenty minutes ago under the pretense of getting more beers and it doesn’t seem like anyone had noticed your disappearance from the group. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t shown up tonight.

Why had you shown up tonight? 

Penny’s making polite conversation with you as you sit there, and you thank your lucky stars she doesn’t comment on the fact that you are clearly uninvested in the discussion. Looking back to the group, you make eye contact with Rooster and you immediately look away. 

“Someone’s coming to talk.” She whispers and someone is as the bodies of Rooster and Hangman appear on either side of you. Your boyfriend sighs, settling down in the seat next to you, arm moving to settle on your back. You ignore him, continuing to sip on your drink. 

“You’re mad at me.” He says as Hangman orders different drinks from Penny. 

You swallow as Penny eyes the two of you, handing the beers over to Hangman. “I’m not mad.” You finally settle on. 

“Course she’s mad Rooster, it’s not cool to bring up a girl you used to bang in front of your current girlfriend.” 

“You instigated that Bagman, so shut up.” You say, taking another sip of your drink. 

Hangman raises his hands in surrendering, retreating the the pool table. Rooster nudges you, nodding his head back to the group. “C’mon, come play.” 

You shake your head, swallowing the last of your drink. “’M good.” 

“Honey, I’m sorry I brought her up. Know it must not feel good to hear about that.” 

“Quite frankly, I don’t care that you hooked up with her.” 

He nods slowly. “Okay... then why are you mad?” 

“I told you, I’m not mad.” 

He sighs, leaning his head up against your shoulder. “Honey, please just talk to me so we can fix this.” 

“I’m not mad; do you want me to create feelings that aren’t there?” You ask, feeling yourself starting to get defensive. 

“You’re jealous.” 

And he’s not wrong, not entirely, because you had been for a moment, but only before the insecurity had set in. 

You shake your head. “Not jealous.” 

“Well, you’re something because you’re been sitting over here for half an hour talking to Penny and you’ve barely talked to me all day.” 

“How do you know I’m not having an engaging, intellectually stimulating conversation with Penny?” He gives you a look that has your defenses rising up even faster. “Would you just drop it?”

“Are we gonna be good if I do?” 

You stand up from your seat, turning towards the pool table. “Yeah, we’re fine.” 

He groans. “That does not sound like we’re fine.” He calls, catching the attention of Fanboy. You slip in between him and Payback. “Rebel-”

“I said, I’m not mad and we’re fine. We’re dropping it.” He watches you for a moment, assessing if that’s really what he wants to do, but must decide from continuing the conversation, deflating down into a stray bar stool. You turn, grabbing your keys and jacket that had originally been thrown over the railing near the pool table as the team watches you. “I’m going home.” You say to no one in particular. No one protests or follows you as you make your way out of the bar, and it takes everything you to not let that sting as you walk to your car. 

-

Shutting the locker door, you shoulder your bag and slip your phone into you back pocket. 

“Hey, you coming to the Hard Deck tonight?” 

You turn to see Halo sitting on the bench, looking back to you. Phoenix turns at the comment, wet hair from her shower falling over her shoulder. Tentatively, you grip the straps of your bag and shake your head. “Nah, I’ve got a friend in town. Going out to dinner to catch up with her.” Phoenix raises an eyebrow but says nothing. “What?” You ask, turning towards her. 

Most days, you weren’t sure if you and Phoenix would ever be friends. Maybe the two of you could be amicable, friendly even, a few years down the road. Still, she’d grown on you and you had hoped you had grown on her but... it was tough. 

You knew she kept you at arms length, that much was obvious. Knew she was still Rooster’s best friend, didn’t trust you to take care of him, to not break his heart. She didn’t trust you and damn if that didn’t sting. 

Phoenix shakes her head. “Nothing, you just... don’t seem to be doing a lot of spending time with us lately.” 

You sigh, shifting your bag. “That’s not true, you guys were at my house on Saturday.” 

“Okay, let me rephrase: you don’t seem to be wanting to spending a lot of time with us lately.” 

“That’s especially not true, considering game night was my idea.” 

She eyes you for a moment and then glances back to Halo before dropping down to the bench. “Does this have anything to do with the Moonshine thing-” You huff, readjusting your grip again as you move your eyes to the ceiling “-from last week, because truly Bradshaw didn’t mean it-” 

“-like that. Yeah, I got it Phoenix, thanks. Look, I really gotta go-” She sighs, cutting you off. “What?”

Once more, she shakes her head, rubbing her fingers over her temples. “Nothing. Have fun with your friend.” 

You nod slowly, feeling your throat dry. “K, well, I’ll- see you all tomorrow then.” You wave, bidding them goodbye, as your back turns and head for the door. You blink back the tears threatening to fight their way over as you walk towards the parking lot. 

That couldn’t even be considered a fight, barely a disagreement between teammates. Still, you wanted her to like you so bad-

There was a sickening feeling of deja vu crashing over you. 

You never learned. 

-

The laughter ringing out made your soul feel lighter than it had in weeks as you sit across from your friend in some Mexican restaurant Google had recommended. She smiled at you as you looked down to your phone, seeing a text from Bradley, telling you that he missed you and wished you were there. 

“Lover boy?” You nodded as you lock the device and slip it back into the bag, returning your attention to your friend. 

“I wish you were staying longer than a night.”

She sighs. “Wish I could too, but I’m out on deployment for six months at 8 am sharp tomorrow.” 

A silence falls over the table as you fiddle with your fork, avoiding her eye. “Can I ask you a question?”

She hums an affirmative. 

“You went to Top Gun with them all, right?” She nods. 

“A few of them, yeah. Why?” You sigh, leaning back in your chair as she reaches across the table for another chip. “Uh-oh, is this the part of the night where you’re honest with me and tell me there’s trouble in paradise?” 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “What did you think of Phoenix?”

“Of Phoenix?” She asks, pausing as she raises an eyebrow. You nod. “I liked her. Very intelligent, very clever. Good pilot. Earned everything she’s gotten. Why?”

You shrug. “I just don’t think she likes me very much.”

“I doubt that. She sticks to the other female pilots. There aren’t many of us. And even if she doesn’t, what does that matter?” 

“She’s Bradley’s best friend and I don’t- I don’t know.” You mumble, cheeks going red. 

“What’s really going on? C’mon, out with it.” 

You sigh. “Um, last week Moonshine-” Petals makes a noise in her throat, rolling her eyes. “-got brought up and I found out she and Rooster hooked up a few times at Top Gun.” 

“Thought he had standards.” 

You shoot her a look. “And I just- I’ve sort felt like I’ve been on the wrong foot, with this whole team since I got here, and I just- I don’t think I belong here P. Maybe she belongs here instead.” 

“Belong with this team or with him?”

You groan, reaching up to rub your eyes. “Both, maybe? I don’t know.” 

She eyes you as you fall silent. The silence grows as she waits for you to continue but no words find their way to the surface. The waitress comes over, asking if you want dessert. She looks to you as you down the last of your margarita. 

“I don’t know about you, but I kind of want one of everything.” 

You laugh as the alcohol warms you. “One of both? Sure, why not.” 

You didn’t acknowledge the little voice in your head screaming at you that you didn’t need one of both, let one of any dessert, because you didn’t do that anymore-

Petals closes the menu, smiling at the waitress. “Can we also have another round of margaritas? Thank you so much.” The waitress walks off and Petals turns to you. “Why do you feel out of place?” 

“I just- I don't feel like I’m good enough to be here. And I don’t know, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop with him, to fuck things up like I always do-”

“First of all, no you don’t. He is equally, if not more, responsible for your falling out. Second of all, and I’m sorry to be so frank with you, but the idea that you are not good enough to be with this team, or don’t belong with this team, is bullshit.” She puts her elbows up on the table, clasping her hands together. “If the Navy wanted Moonshine on this team, wanted Moonshine called back for that mission, they would’ve called back Moonshine and Coyote. But they didn’t. They called you back because the Navy wanted you. Bradshaw doesn’t want Moonshine, he wants you.” 

You look at her, struggling to allow her words to ring true. 

You deserved to be here. 

You were good enough. 

He wanted you. 

“I just-”

“Rebel, he loves you. Loves you more than I’ve seen another person love someone. Even back then, I knew. I know now. He loves you so honestly, so openly. He’d bleed open if it meant you’d accept his heart. Why can’t you trust him with yours?”

You make a noncommittal shrug, avoiding her eyes. “I don’t know... things are good right now, I’ll admit it. But they’re delicate. If I fuck it up, I lose everything.” 

She raises an eyebrow. “This isn’t just about Bradshaw is it?” You shake your head and she sighs. “Okay, here’s what I know. I’ve had my issues with Bradshaw. We’ve talked about it.” You nod. “Hangman’s an ass and I can’t stand him.”

“Yeah, fair. valid. I don’t like him either.”

“And for however much I like Phoenix, I know she’s still loyal to Bradshaw.” 

You nod, bottom lip catching in your teeth. “Yeah.” 

“But I know Coyote to be good people, but I also know you know that too.”

You duck your head. “Of course I know it P. They’re all good people, I think Hangman might even have a heart in there somewhere.”

“But?” She prompts. 

“But I know that I have a reputation. And you know, how do I... how do I ask them to keep taking hits because of it? How long can they put up with me before they get tired of it? I mean, you know it, it’s got to be exhausting defending me all the time, to have to have my back, to carry the brunt of my shit.” 

“What reputation do you think I’ve got exactly?” She asks sharply, eyes narrowing.

“For being a rule-breaker. For-”

She waves a hand, cutting you off before you can even finish. “You earned your callsign. And if anything, you’ve earned a reputation because you’re a good pilot. For being a good friend, for always having your wingman’s back. I know you think you’re asking a lot of these people but you’re not. You’re not asking a lot of them to be there, to be your friend. What you fail to see is that they want to be your friend. Bradshaw doesn’t want to be with anyone but you. And I consider myself damn lucky to call you my close friend.”

She settles back in her chair, eyeing you as the dessert arrives at the table. There’s silence as she continues to stare at you, even as you reach for one of the plates, ignoring her. 

Finally, she sighs. “You heard from your Mom lately?” 

You pause, eyes snapping up to hers at the sudden change in topic. “No and I don’t care to. Why the fuck are you bringing her up?”

She shrugs, leaning over the table to take the plate you’re holding from you. “Don’t let her dictate your life. You’re not on your own anymore.” 

-

The white of your dress was stained, blood seeping through the material, turning the creamy color to one that made your stomach turn. You wiped your hands against it, leaving streaks of blood behind, but never able to fully get them to become clean. 

You swallow, getting frustrated as you try so hard to rid yourself of the stain, of your mistakes. 

You had sworn your wouldn’t do this again.

“I knew you’d break his heart in the end.”

It’s Phoenix’s voice.

Your head shoots up, searching for her, begging for her to forgive you for hurting him first. 

You didn’t mean to-

The only one who’s there in this room of white though, is a figure you never thought you’d see again. 

“Mom?” 

She smiles softly at you. “It happened, didn’t it, honey?” 

“I tried, I promise, but now-” You look down again to your hands, realizing how red they are. Red with his blood. It had been his heart you’d broken. “I’m sorry, so sorry-” 

“Oh, honey, don’t you know?” You shake your head, eyes searching hers. “They never cared in the first place. All the bridges burned.” 

You swallow, fighting to stand to your feet. “No, they like me, they’re my friends-”

She lets out a laugh that sends cold straight through you, echoing and ringing out for miles through the space. 

[puddle-nerd]

Menace (Part 1)

Summary: Jake’s tail likes to get him into trouble because it has a mind of its own. (Jake x Reader)

Part 2

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Prompt 4 (Spanking) for my submission for LunasKinktober2023

Na’vi Translation: Olo’eyktan — clan leader Paskalin — honey (term of endearment) Unilpay – alcoholic drink like moonshine (non-canon) Story Tags: No use of y/n, Female Reader, Spanking, Friends to Lovers, Neytiri Married Tsu’tey because we don't do cheating in this house, Brief Mention of Past Cheating by Someone Else, Miscommunication, Mild Dub-Con-ish if you squint, Use of “baby girl” and “good girl”, Proper communication, color system, Fingering, Idiots, They’re both idiots! Idiots in Love

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Jake Sully was an unabashed flirt. Jake Sully was an absolute menace. He had been a bit of a menace when he’d been human and wheelchair bound but after the final transfer through the eye of Eywa? Honestly, it had more than likely been an issue probably even before then but he’d only been in his Avat for a handful of hours before he’d been away learning how to be one of The People. The issue had been and still was that his tail always seemed to have a mind of its own.

You could tell a lot about what a Na’vi or an Avatar was thinking or feeling by learning the movements their tails and the way Jake’s twitched around you (although with those expressive ears, those lasciviously teasing smiles, and the tone he delivered certain words and phrases…); he was without a doubt an unrepentantly horrible flirt. He’d been that way back on Earth, too. Tommy, because you’d met the younger Sully first through university and induction into the Avatar program and he’d eventually introduced you to his older twin after the incident in Venezuela that left Jake in a chair, had quickly become embarrassed beyond belief whenever Jake turned his flirty behavior your way. And you shouldn’t have fed into him. You really shouldn’t have but if your ex hadn’t cheated… well Jake’s flirting had made the sting of your ex two-timing you for your uni class enemy all the more bearable.

And now, being only one of thirteen women and one of thirty-five remaining humans staying on Pandora after the near destruction of HomeTree, his flirty behavior was still welcome, most of the time, because he was the only one showing interest in you it seemed.

Most of the scientists were more focusing all of their attention upon the flora, the fauna, The People than making romantic gestures towards others, though there had been a few new relationships crop up. The techs and the pilots usually stuck more together, while the scientists devoted themselves more to their work than to fornicating with each other. Accidentally finding Trudy straddling Norm’s lap of all things one day had been a laugh around the labs for a solid month but the two of them surprisingly worked well together. And they had been the ones who had taken charge of raising Paz Socorro’s orphaned baby whom they had decided to use his middle name ‘Ethan’ instead of what the birth certificate labeled his first name as: Miles. The last Miles that had been on Pandora – well, Neytiri had killed the bastard and with good cause, too. You all just wished you knew who Ethan’s father had been as that space had been left blank.

One of Pandora’s great mysteries, you supposed.

“Jake, get control of your tail or I’m gonna cut it off!”

Menace.

You had been trying to structure the DNA strands of one of the flowers that Mo’at had once told you was great for healing until Jake’s tail had knocked over a glass tray of tubes behind you, wagging away like an overexcited puppy. At least he had the decency to look sheepish at the dirty look you shot him. “Sorry, Paskalin,” he called out, backing away from the mess. His Avatar body was too large now to successfully grab a human-sized broom and sweep up the shards leaving you to do it. You went to crouch over the pile you’d made a few minutes later only to feel that menace of a tail swat your backside. You looked up but he was studiously looking away from you, the corner of his mouth curled up.

“Go bother Neytiri or something,” you snapped, taking the pan of dirt and now useless glass and carrying it to the closest bin.

Jake’s good mood plummeted. He grumbled low in the back of his throat like a displeased feline. Your words had been a low blow, honestly, and you’re not sure why you’d chosen that to say to him. After the death of her father and her intended had been made Olo’eyktan, Neytiri and Tsu’tey had gone ahead with their official mating after most of the Sky People had been chased off planet despite her having been seemingly interested in Jake before. There had been a huge ceremony a week ago, Jake had begrudgingly recalled to you as you had not been invited. Lots of paints and new necklaces and intricately designed loincloths woven together specifically for their union. And he’d been introduced to the moonshine-like drink The People referred to as unilpay.

You tried not to shiver at the memories of that night. A drunken Jake had stumbled his huge blue body through your bedroom door at the witching hour after Neytiri and Tsu’tey’s wedding ceremony and nearly scared the absolute shit out of you. In vindictive retribution, you recalled he’d ended up knocking his large head against both your doorframe and your ceiling light fixture, mumbling incoherently in a broken hybrid of the Na’vi language and English before slumping heavily over your bed, nearly squishing you in the process. And that damn tail of his had wrapped itself possessively around your upper thigh, the dark tuft flicking lazily against the very thinly covered juncture of your thighs. At least you had had panties on to begin with. Not having expected Jake’s sudden appearance, you had taken care of your own needs earlier that night and hadn’t thought to air out your room. You (later that night) had also had a pretty fantastic dream that Jake had woken you in the middle of the night and fingered you to completion with two of his large, blue fingers, stretching you wider than your ex could have dreamed.

When Jake had woken that next morning, he had buried his head into the crook of your neck, moaning about how good you smelled, hand digging into the softness of your belly. His tail had tightened around your leg and flicked against the front of your panties some more until you pinched the tip of his ear so you could escape and avoid how aroused he had been making you. The Avatar had quickly let you go after that, letting you escape with an unreadable frown upon his features. He’d been swinging by the lab nearly daily after that and making even more of a menace of himself every time.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you said, seeing the unhappy look upon his face at the sting your words had caused.

“S’fine,” he mumbled, looking anywhere but you. “I’m gonna head out now.” He hardly ever cut his time short like this but you understood he was smarting at basically getting reminded that he’d been dumped and was now dealing with your shitty attitude and he needed to, metaphorically, lick his wounds. He turned to head out of the lab and his menace of a tail got in the final words, swatting your backside once more, this time a little harder, the sting in your backside causing your quim to tingle.

“Menace!” You called after his retreating back.

Shit.

You were going to need a cold shower.

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Jake hadn’t come back for two days, which was unusual, but not unheard of. So, again, you hadn’t expected to see him so late that night and had been enjoying the solitary of your private bunk, lights off, headphones in, naked and sweating upon your rumpled bed as you watched the pornographic video upon your tablet, fingers stuffed up into your dripping pussy.

The acting was as terrible as any fuck film usually was but what made it one of your favorites was the fact that, if you squinted, the main male and female characters kinda looked like you and a human Jake with his Na’vi size since the male pornstar was so much bigger than the female he was spanking away. It was a kink of yours, wanting to feel that burn of a hand striking your plush, naked bottom until the skin was red and raw, his other hand pressed firmly between your shoulder blades. (You hated it when the male grabbed their co-star’s hair in a tight fist and yanked their head back painfully. How was that supposed to be pleasurable? It always looked like he was about to rip chunks out of her scalp or snap her spine.) Then, with a sore bottom, when the female pornstar either got fingered to completion or fucked, ohhh, the orgasm that ripped through you was always a satisfying one.

Again… you hadn’t expected Jake to show up.

Legs spread wide, two fingers deep with your thumb circling your hardened clit, the sudden blue hand lifting your tablet from where you had it propped up to watch your fuck film caused you to shriek — and not in pleasure.

The sharp brightness of the video on Jake’s sapphire colored face was… weird. His eyes glowed with the light refracting out of them, much like a feline on Earth. You yanked your earbuds from your ear, the sound of skin slapping together fading from your hearing. You scrambled back, trying to locate your bedsheet to preserve whatever modesty you might have had left, screeching, “What the fuck, Jake?!” Your heart was galloping away in your breast, and you could feel the stickiness of your arousal on your one hand clutching the cotton to your chin. You could also feel it seep out of you as your cunt clenched on nothing, seeing him standing there.

“Well damn, baby girl,” the Avatar chuckled huskily. “If this is what you’re into, I could accommodate you. Unless you’re still embarrassed from the other night?” Golden eyes flashed as he turned towards you, a challenging brow raised.

Trying to restabilize yourself, you demanded, “What are you talking about, you menace?”

He smirked, hearing the familiar nickname. “The night I came by and got you off,” he replied, as if reminding you of something you should totally know about. You stared at him blankly. The grin began to fade. “After Neytiri’s wedding…?” You gaped at him. “Come on,” he groaned. “Don’t be embarrassed, baby girl.” Your cunt clenched again, hearing him call you that. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since I met you and I came by a week or so ago and I got you off and we fell asleep and then you ran away the next morning even though I could smell you getting hot for me again.”

He thought…

Oh… that changed things. Maybe…

“Jake… I…” you floundered, still. It had been a dream though… right? He hadn’t actually gotten you off, right? You had felt a bit more stretched out and sated that usual but that was because of the wet dream… right?

A considering look crossed his features. “I could take your choice away…” Your eyes bugged slightly as you stared up at him, still gaping away like an idiot or a fish or an idiot fish, heart kicking up speed in your chest, body trembling. A whole body shiver traveled through you. Jake scented the air and his golden gaze darkened, a predatory smirk crossing his features. “You like that, baby girl,” he stated. “You just got hotter for it. I can smell it. C’mere. Let D—let’s play.”

Jake suddenly yanked your top bedsheet away from you, uncovering your body and taking in your nudity eagerly. “Jake!” You protested but even to your own ears, it felt weak. He just smirked and grabbed your ankle, yanking you towards him. Oh, fuck. That had to be one of the hottest moves on the planet and the heat in your lower belly kicked back up. His nose wriggled and you hadn’t thought he could look even more smug. Before you could make sense of it all, Jake scooped you up, sat down on the end of your bed and then deposited your naked body across his bare thighs. You let out an ‘omph’ as you felt something else firm and hot digging into your hanging breasts and it took a second to realize; he’d taken his loincloth off. He was as naked as you were.

Looking down, you couldn’t see Jake’s cock but if you were judging off by what you felt, he was hung. And aroused.

You whimpered slightly.

“I gotcha, baby girl,” Jake assured you, one of his hands trailing his fingertips down your spine to the swell of your ass before dipping into the copious amounts of slick you had naturally produced. “Fuck, baby, bet I could get at least one finger in here no problem.” There was amusement and wonder in the ex-Marine’s voice. “But let me spank you, first. You like that, yeah?” You swallowed, nodding, bracing yourself on his thigh. “Use your words.”

You nodded again, saying, “Y–yeah, I… I like… getting s–spanked. Just… don’t pull my hair…?” Your voice trailed off.

“No hair pulling,” Jake repeated back. “Want me to brace your back instead, baby girl?”

You nodded, adding, “Yes, please,” before he could remind you.

“Good girl,” the Avatar grinned. “Color system work for you?” You verbally agreed. He prompted, “What’s your color, baby?”

“Green, definitely green,” you admitted, embarrassed at being displayed so but you couldn’t deny your arousal and you were both consenting adults.

Jake experimentally dropped his hand against your backside. It didn’t feel like much. “Like this, baby girl?”

You decided to be a brat and retorted, “A toddler could hit harder, Jake.” The next slap was much more appealing and you let out a quiet ‘oooph’. “Much better, Sully.” You peeked up at him to see him shooting you an eye roll. He spanked you again, earning another quiet moan. Then again and again and again. “Oh fuck,” you moaned, writhing over his knees as the sting in your ass and upper part of your thighs built enticingly with each strike. You nearly screamed when his next blow landed on your engorged cunt, nails biting into his thigh. He held you down harder and struck you there again, your squirming rubbing over the length of his hard cock. “Fuck, don’t stop, Jake. Don’t stop.”

A couple of more spanks to your ass, your upper thighs and your pussy and you felt the coil in your body preparing to spring. “Gonna cum?” Jake hissed through clenched teeth, delivering two more spanks. “Be a good girl and cum for me. Cum for daddy!”

The Avatar smacked your pussy directly eight more times, fingers spreading the sting between your cunt and your clit, before you did as you were told with a wail, slick flowing steadily all over his hand. He chuckled darkly, sinking his index finger into your fluttering walls and stroking a spot inside that prolonged the bliss and had you sobbing as you writhed over his knees, cumming harder than you can ever recall cumming before in your life. He eased you through it and when you started to calm, slid you up and off his legs, readjusting you to lie against his chest.

“You good, baby?” Jake asked softly. “Not gonna fall asleep on me again, are you?”

You hummed. “Not yet,” you admitted. You propped your head up onto your hand, bending your arm at the elbow. “Thank you for taking care of me, daddy.” Jake rubbed a hand over his face in embarrassment. “Hey, hey, I was just teasing,” you said softly, sitting up. “I have a spanking kink. You have a daddy kink. It’s cool. I’ll call you daddy if you spank me like that some more.”

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 04 October 2023 Word Count: 2,590

AO3

@pandoraslxna, @eyweveng

[relax-and-read-on]

Primarch headcanons; preferred alcoholic beverages.

Primarch, booze editions

Alpharius Omegon: Four Loko mixed in monster energy drink with extra shooter of whatever poison is around them.

Magnus: Sangria, that he make himself. It legitimately has no right being this good, and this strong.

Lorgar: drink Araq like water, everyone find it disgusting.

Mortarion: make his own moonshine that turn other people blind.

Horus: Budweiser. Insist that it's "not that bad". Everyone is judging him.

Angron: used to make his own prison moonshine with the other slaves, does not drink nowadays due to the nails.

Fulgrim: love fancy fruity cocktails, and will kill for more long island ice tea.

Konrad: Does not like alcohol, but Fulgrim keep giving him the tastiest, most sugar packed starbuck order possible with extra vodka shot in it.

Perturabo: red wine. Will bitch about everything else

Sanguinius: Blood. Fermented Blood. Tequila, strong enough to have the preserved insect in it.

Vulkan: anything with fire on it!!! He like presentation more than taste.

Ferrus: straight vodka, and call it brain oil.

Roboute: he actually really like his aromatic wines!! Drop herbs and shit in it!!!

Rogal: Apple cider! And it's super tasty too, inwit has some frost apple that make some delicious stuff. He like his apple juice.

Corvus: microbrew snob. Love trying new independant beer, but has a tendancy to turn her nose up at more traditional ones

Jaghatai: Airag, or fermented, alcoholic horse milk. Everyone is horrified until they taste it and have to admit that it's kinda like tasty eggnog.

Lion: Will say champagne/sparkling wine, but is not much of a drinker.

Leman: Mead, and fucking strong one. That said, he is actually very appreciative of any and all kind of booze!