#anyway now i show drawings to her and shes like 'ooh this one is dressed decently!'

[fettiowi]

i will never live down my therapist saying i always draw characters with indecent clothing. funniest thing to me

[diegeticdivinity]

Snowdrop, Tulip and Violet for all of the Singularit+y members!

Corey is really interested in technology, she isn’t exactly an expert but she just likes to geek out about it, Zircon brings her to xir ship and points out what all the knobs and buttons do and she’s just like ‘:O’! She hates absolute silence, she calls it ‘dead air’, she needs something happening around her to function, preferably something interesting!

Sylvan likes when his art makes people smile, be it his music or his illustrations (he draws sometimes!). He’s had a bit of a rough life, his parents have been cast out from society for opposing the villainous government of this Earth and a lot of people still saw him as a social reject pre-Singulari+y for that reason, so all he’s ever wanted to do was play and sing for the other outcasts he grew up around and bring them joy, to which the rest of the band happily agree, so the reject towns get private concerts on the occasion! He hates being in the spotlight, however: he often stands out due to his gender-nonconformity which lead to some bad experiences in the center of attention in the past, and being center-stage still gives him really bad anxiety for that reason despite the fact that he’s now happy looking the way he does, long black hair, dresses and all. The rest of Singulari+y! respect this and allow him to perform slightly off to the side, so that he can be heard but never with the full focus of an audience on him.

Zircon loves physical affection, xe’s a really tactile person, xe’ll put xir hand on your shoulder and hug you often if you let xir, but xe does respect boundaries. Physical touch is seen as something very exciting and important among xir species, since they often travel alone and rarely get to do it to one another. Xe doesn’t like enclosed spaces, feeling ‘trapped’ makes xir really claustrophobic and nauseous, xir ship is mostly fine because xe’s familiar with it and it’s actually fairly spacious just for xir alone, but there’s a bit later on in the story where the villains briefly capture xir and trap xir in this glass tube for a bit, it’s super uncomfortable for xir, xe feels so relieved when Corey busts it open with a chair!

I’d show Corey an item of modern technology (Singulari+y!’s story takes place in 198X on an alternate version of Earth) just to see her excited reaction! I’d also like to go shopping with her, she has fantastic fashion sense, she’d love modern clothing (especially of various alt fashion movements!) it’d just be a really fun time for both of us!

I’d tell Sylvan about how things will turn out okay, on both his version of Earth and ours, because he’s overheard from his family what the government were doing and why they were resisting and is probably the most concerned about the state of Earth out of the group.

I’d infodump Zircon all about the funky human things that don’t really make much sense, possibly look up the histories of why we say and do certain things seemingly arbitrarily, xe’d be really eager about it and be glad to have a better understanding of humanity!

Ooh, these were tough, I’ve never done voiceclaims before, usually because I typically have a hyper-specific idea of what a character sounds like in my head and it becomes kinda frustrating when none of your ideas match but you also can’t really describe what would be different to make it match!

Anyway, Corey’s speaking voice is quite deep for an 18 year old girl, she usually speaks pretty slowly but the rate of her voice accelerates rapidly when she’s talking about her interests! I imagine she sounds something like the way YouTuber Yume’s Studio voices Marina from Splatoon, here’s an example of that!

Sylvan was a bit difficult to pinpoint and I still don’t have any examples in mind for how he talks, the way he sounds kinda has ‘older sibling’ vibes if you know what I mean, and he has an eeever so slight southern accent.

I’m done denying it, Zircon sounds like early 70s Bowie, but with the British-ness turned down a little in favor of the impossible to place accent I described that one time!

This was a lot of fun! Sorry it took so long, thank you so much for the ask!!

[elysiadjarin]

Day 3: Dacryphilia

Jesse Cromeans may be a ruthless killer, but at home with you? You’re the one in charge. And especially those days when you’re annoyed at how long he’s been gone and he comes back so desperate for your attention… well. You did so like to see him cry.

Day 3 of Kinktober has arrived! I actually think I discovered some things about myself writing this one, so y’all enjoy. 😂 Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content only. This one is a slasher x reader fic, so please beware of mentions of murder and assault as part of the territory, though nothing is explicitly mentioned. PinV unprotected sex, dacryphilia, desperation, cumplay.

Tags: Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) x reader, slasher x reader, yandere!reader, soft femdom, sub/dom themes

Paint Splatters over Canvas

It was rather funny, really.

You scrolled through your phone, ignoring the giant man standing in the doorway of the room staring at you. Jesse had always made a point of never touching you without your permission. A way for him to separate the meaningless victims of his murderous hobby with you, his wife, his everything. And while of course your relationship stayed perfectly strong, you well aware of his hobby and he well aware of your own tendencies… it did sometimes backfire on him in the best worst ways.

Like now. When you were annoyed with him because he’d been gone an entire day later than he’d promised, extra dark web cash be damned. A promise was a promise, and it wasn’t as though he’d needed the money. He did have a perfectly legal and highly successful business, after all. So shouldn’t you have come first?

You liked revenge cold, playing the long game; something you had in common with Jesse. And today, you certainly had plans put in place for said revenge. Which, for the time being, meant ignoring Jesse. You had plenty to occupy you, from communications for the business to just working on your own projects. Still, you’d made sure to be just nonchalant enough to let him know that it was all so… deliberate.

Jesse shuffled in the doorway, clearly wanting your attention but knowing better than to think any sort of demanding would get him anywhere. He’d learned the hard way that at home, his power over subordinates decidedly did not apply to you. When you didn’t give him any response, he hovered for a moment, clearly trying to decide on what to do next.

You knew how he would get after a mission. Needy. Wanting. Starved for attention and affection from you. Pent up for days, probably thinking about you every spare moment between takes.

With a hum, you typed out a message on your phone before standing and heading for the doorway. You briefly looked up to see him as you brushed past in the doorway. “Oh, hi, Jesse,” you said, giving him a brief, distracted smile. “I’m off to get ready for a meeting with a client.” You headed for the bedroom, already thinking about your next steps.

You could hear him following behind you, could almost feel the mounting despair as he started to realized what was happening. Why you had used his name instead of the usual love, darling. His shoulders hunched, and you could see his face twist as he clearly tried to think of what to do. He already knew that you’d have your revenge however you wanted: apologies would be expected but certainly wouldn’t get him any closer to mercy.

Walking into the bedroom, you headed straight for the bathroom to start preparing. Jesse still trailed along behind you like a forlorn, helpless puppy, and you swore you could almost hear him let out a small whine. Pausing for a moment in front of your vanity, you dialed your friend’s number and set it to speaker, putting it down on the countertop and sitting in front of the mirror.

You tied your hair up and reached for your cosmetics, beginning the process as the phone dialed. Your friend picked up quickly, already in on your plan thanks to your texting. She always approved of your payback plans.

Bestie! I thought you said you had to prepare for the meeting? I mean, yknow, not that I don’t like hearing from you. She cheerfully teased over the phone.

You smiled. “Well yeah, I just sat down to do my makeup. But I mean, we did say we were going to talk about the party for little Jacen this weekend, and what better time than now? You can help me pick out an outfit once I’m done,” you cajoled, noticing how Jesse sat on the edge of the jacuzzi bathtub, unabashedly staring at you. He always had loved watching you get ready for an event. Not that you minded.

Fair enough. Your best friend admitted readily. But seriously, you didn’t have to go all out for Jacen like this. She half scolded. It’s so much!

You laughed lightly, the creamy foundation smoothing across your skin. “Oh c’mon, he’s my adorable little nephew in all but name. He deserves to get spoiled by his doting Aunt, let me have my fun,” you wheedled, knowing she would cave.

She sighed over the receiver. I swear, girl, you could convince anyone into anything.

“Or maybe I’m just your weakness, Miss Mara,” you teased back. The soft brush in your fingers blended the contour onto your face, and you smiled as you glanced at the phone. “But anyway, did you manage to figure out what he might want for a birthday present? Or are we going with my original idea to let him loose in a mall?”

Oh, no, you are so not buying him everything he points at. I’d never get him to not be a spoiled brat if I let you.Mara snorted. I’ll text you what I figured out, he seems to be pretty fixated on it right now.

“Ugh, fineeee,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “But I’m going to at least get him that adorable motorized scooter I showed you before. He’s going to look so cute riding around in it.”

Fair enough I suppose. Better than the mall idea— wait, did you just get me to agree to something extravagant by threatening something so ridiculous—

“Anyway,” you interrupted blithely, “did you send out invitations to everyone?”

Yep, and I got back all the RSVPs. Speaking of which, I thought you said that you were meeting with the CEO of some business tonight? What’s that all about? I know you, you normally don’t like dealing with people.

You sighed. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag a little.” You pouted, reaching for the eyeshadow and liner. “Jesse was supposed to be back yesterday, but since he wasn’t I had to reschedule, and I promised to personally meet with the CEO in order to smooth over ruffled feathers. But besides that… I wanted to be there personally to see my best friend and her husband’s house finally paid off for their fifth anniversary.”

A pause. Then a screech that made you grin. You’re not serious! Babes, no, wait—

“No use protesting!” You said cheerfully, waving your brush. “It’s already been practically settled. Besides, you both need to start saving up for Jacen’s college funds. We did have the agreement that I’d open the doors to whatever college he wanted instead of just paying for it,” you reminded.

Ugh, I don’t know if I want to smack you or hug you, you sly little— Mara groaned. Wait till I tell Damien, he won’t know what hit him. She laughed. Thank you. You know how much it means to us. I won’t scold.

“Good.” You nodded. “And you know I’ll take care of you.”

She sighed. Never doubted it. So, how’s the process?

You hummed, pursing your lips as you finished the eyeshadow and grabbed the mascara. “About to do mascara, then all I have left is the lipstick. But shouldn’t I wait till we pick a dress before I actually pick a color?”

Probably. What’s the mood? You going for boss ass bitch, sultry Queen, or mysterious vampire lady? Amusement laced Mara’s voice.

“You’re not even in my house and yet you walked in and called me out to my face,” you said dryly, earning laughter. Jesse, you saw in the mirror, tilted his head with a small smile playing over his lips. He’d quietly observed the whole processes, eyes fixed on your face.

Only cause I love you. So, show me the closet, girl! Oh, show me your makeup first tho so we got reference.

You picked up the phone as you finished, turning on the camera so she could see your makeup sans the lipstick. She whistled, eyebrows wriggling teasingly as she grinned.

Oh, so mysterious vampire queen it is. She smirked. Closet. Though I do have the feeling that we’re going to be choosing a gorgeous red lipstick.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered, standing and heading for your closet. You heard Jesse stand and follow behind you, and stifled a smile. Flipping the camera, you started to flip through the racks of dresses. “Does that mean we’re leaning towards a black dress?”

Hmm, probably. Actually, how about one of your sleek black ones? The one with like, barely any frills and only a tiny bit of lace at the top. Off the shoulder. If you’re gonna try to assert dominance, probably drawing attention to your mouth and hands is the best way to go.

You tilted your head at the hangers, then nodded. “You’re right. Especially if I go for the red lipstick. I could also honestly use a glass of wine during that meeting,” you sighed.

Mara snickered. Blood in a wine glass? How stereotypical of you, madame.

“You hush, drama queen,” you said dryly, finding the dress she’d described and pulling it out.

Ooh, that’s the one! And I know you have that one crimson shade of lipstick that I always say looks vampiric.

You went back to the vanity and set the phone down, pretending to not notice that it showed Jesse standing in the doorway, clearly staring at you. You slid your shirt off, careful not to smudge any makeup, then slipped out of your pants and reached for the dress. Smoothing it over your front to get rid of any wrinkles, you sat back down and tilted the camera back to yourself, reaching for the lipstick.

“This one, right?” You waved it in front of your face.

Yep! That dress is stunning, by the way. Oh, and what are you doing with your hair?

“Ugh, I don’t really wanna bother too much with it, so I figured I’d go with the… messy, loose waves.” You shrugged, applying the lipstick.

Mara snorted. I think you mean, ‘sorry I’m late I was doing things’ while ignoring Jesse staggering behind you clearly radiating ‘I’m things’ energy.

You half-choked, laughing despite yourself. “Mara-! Seriously!”

She rolled her eyes at you. I’m just saying it like it is. But you go girlie, you look bomb. She laughed. Blow them all away. Be the boss bitch you are. A noise in the background interrupted her. Oop, that’s my cue. I gotta go, text me though okay?

“Will do, tell Damien and Jacen hi for me.” You smiled and hung up, finishing fluffing your hair. Standing, you grabbed the phone and headed for the door. “The meeting is in five minutes,” you remarked to Jesse as you passed him in the doorway. “If you want to join.”

You saw him type on his phone, the text to speech translator sounding a moment later. May I be there with you?

You flashed him a warm smile, as though you weren’t at all deliberately enacting revenge. “Of course! I’d love to have you there. Let’s go.” With a little hum, you headed towards the stairs.

Your phone pinged with a message. Girl, I swear he was drooling. You’re so mean sometimes. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

You suppressed a laugh, replying with one hand as your other slid down the bannister to guide you down the staircase. You know it. Mission so far successful. Wish me luck, I’m about to go into this meeting.

You looked up as you got to the bottom of the stairs, seeing an assistant waiting with the guest. The assistant bowed politely. “May I introduce Mr. Trace, CEO of Finley Bank.”

Giving the assistant a nod, you turned to Mr. Trace. “Greetings, Mr. Trace. Welcome! Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I do apologize for the delay,” you said, taking charge and sweeping towards the parlor.

He followed after automatically. “Of course, Mrs. Cromeans,” he answered, quickly recovering from his moment of bewilderment.

You motioned to a chair, sitting on the velvet couch across the coffee table. “Please, please, have a seat,” you said, keeping the easy smile on your face. “Can I get you a drink? Anything at all?”

He blinked, sitting down and setting his briefcase next to him. “Ah— thank you. I’d appreciate a scotch on the rocks if it’s available.”

“Of course,” you said easily, nodding to the maid standing nearby. “A red wine for me, please.” You smiled at Jesse as he sat next to you. “Your regular?” you asked sweetly. At his nod, you turned back to the maid. “And a glass of dry white.”

She bowed and went to go fetch the drinks.

“I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do, Mr. Trace,” you said smoothly, “so I’ll not take any more of your time than necessary. Of course, as I said, I’d like to discuss several things with you…”

Twenty minutes later found you leaning against the arm of the couch, feet propped up beside you as you swirled the last dregs of the red wine, tapping the glass with your fingernails. The CEO had long since emptied his scotch, and Jesse was on his second glass. His fingers kept clenching around the flute of his glass every time your feet brushed against his thigh.

“Of course,” Trace said with a nod, jotting down the final notes on the paperwork. “Easily managed. Are there any other details you would like to add or anything else to discuss?” He looked up at you.

Your tactics of firm politeness and the scotch seemed to have worked their charm, and you’d been able to rather easily dominate the flow of the interaction. Not to mention, Mara had been right about appearances clearly setting a tone. Trace seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact with either you or Jesse.

“Not at all, Mr. Trace,” you said, a pleased note in your voice. “I’m rather pleased at how everything has turned out. We do so value your business, you know.” You tilted the glass in your fingers. “Shall I sign the papers?”

“At your leisure.” He slid them across the table toward you.

You slowly uncurled yourself like a lazy feline, straightening yourself and leaning over to set the glass down on the table. Grasping the pen, you slowly signed your name on the papers, eyes glancing over the print to ascertain that everything was in order. Shuffling through the papers, you finally set the pen down.

Trace took them back, glancing through them before nodding. “Everything seems to be in order.” He slid them back into his briefcase. “Thank you as always for your business, Mrs. Cromeans, Mr. Cromeans.”

You nodded, and Jesse stood, setting his glass down. You rose as well, sliding your arm into the crook of his elbow as he automatically adjusted for you. “And thank you for your help, Mr. Trace,” you answered easily. “I do hope you have a productive rest of the day. Do be safe out there.”

He nodded as the assistant returned to escort him out. “Same to you.”

With a hum, you absently patted Jesse’s arm and let yours slide out of his grasp, drifting towards the stairs again. “Oh, I need to go tell Mara it’s all confirmed. Besides, this dress is only comfortable for so long,” you remarked, pulling out your phone again.

Guess who completely owns their house now? You texted Mara, smiling. And your tactics worked, I think dominance was asserted.

You waltzed into the bedroom, headed straight for the closet. “Jesse, are you hungry? I think the food I ordered should have arrived by now, it should be in front of the TV. Maybe pick a movie? I still have a few messages to send.”

You changed into a comfortable black babydoll nightdress, sighing in relief as the silk slid over your skin. It was far more comfortable, and you could feel yourself finally starting to relax after the pent-up tension of the meeting. You really did hate dealing with people, especially ones like the CEO.

Your phone buzzed as you went to go pick it back up. You are literally the best. Now go finish seducing Jesse while I go figure out how to make this news sexy.

Stifling a snort, you went to go wipe your makeup off and wash your face. You could hear the sounds of the TV starting in the bedroom, so you took one more glance in the mirror before heading out into the room, still tapping at your phone. You still had to finish some arrangements for Jacen’s birthday, after all, and your revenge was still percolating.

Jesse’s head turned as soon as you approached the couch in front of the TV. You ignored the way he froze, sliding onto the couch and tucking your feet under a soft blanket. Sending off another message, you set it beside you and reached forward to grab a tray, pulling it into your lap.

“I figured you might not want anything too heavy since you just got back, so I kinda just made a guess and ended up ordering too much…” You frowned at the myriad of food laid out over the table. “Sorry, Jesse… I don’t even know if this is what you want—“

The text to speech cut you off. The food is fine, thank you. I’m sorry for being late. I know I can only make excuses, but I am sorry. Can I make it up to you?

A frown touched your lips as you picked up your spoon, still not looking at him. Your fingernails tapped against the screen of your phone. “Jacen asked the other day if Uncle Jesse would be at his party. I told him I didn’t know, but I’d ask.”

He quickly typed. Of course, if he asked for me, I’ll be sure to be there. His fingers paused, then he slowly typed again, as though hesitating. I got you a present while I was gone.

You hummed, swallowing your food and picking your phone back up. “He’ll be happy to hear it. And thank you for the present.” You sent a message to tell Mara that Jacen’s wish had been granted.

Jesse practically fidgeted as he ate, the movie playing in the background. You could feel his eyes slide from the screen to you, could almost hear the wheels in his head frantically turning. The tension in every line of his body was obvious, his movements stilted and jerky. He practically twitched every time you so much as moved.

Finally, you set down the tray, grabbing a mint to refresh your mouth. Shifting to get more comfortable, you angled yourself towards him a little more. You snitched a piece of food from his plate, letting out a hum as you smiled down at Mara’s message. If possible, Jesse stiffened even more, his fingers clenching so hard around his spoon that it even bent a little in his grasp.

A crumb fell from your fingers onto the lace edge of your nightgown, and you let out a quiet noise of protest as you looked down. Your fingers brushed against the top of your breast, brushing off the crumb. Sticking your finger in your mouth, you typed out a message in response to another conversation. With a sigh, you looked up and glanced over Jesse’s shoulder to see the lamp on the table next to him. Night had fallen, and shadows fell over the room.

Stirring yourself, you sat up, setting your phone down for a moment. “Can I turn on the lamp? I don’t wanna get up for the lights,” you said, starting to lean across him. Almost thoughtlessly, you placed your hand on his thigh and put your weight on it, reaching over his body on your hands and knees to pull at the cord on the lamp. The light clicked on, just as a low keening sound came from Jesse.

Your head tilted at the sound, and you turned to look up at his face. It was your turn to freeze.

Jesse’s face had crumpled, his soft green eyes literally awash with tears. His hands were clenched at his sides, his chest heaving with hitching breaths as he struggled to control his expression. The tears welled in his eyes, and faint color had splashed across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Slowly, a smile crossed your lips as you stared up at his face. Leaning back, you tilted your head, licking your lips. “Oh, look at you,” you breathed. “You made all the little piggies cry, Jesse. But maybe it’s your turn, hmm?” Your eyes flickered down to the way his entire body trembled, every muscle taut and strained.

You moved, sliding your entire body into his lap to straddle his waist and face him. Crossing your arms under your chest, you stared into his face. “I don’t know… you broke your promise, though.” Your eyebrow raised at him, and he let out another hoarse whimper. Tears slid down his cheeks, his mouth opening for shuddering breaths.

He shook his head, lips trembling as he lifted one hand and signed. Sorry. Please. Sorry. His fingers spelled out your name.

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands. You leaned up, face drawing closer to his. “But I already accepted your apology, love,” you cooed, smiling. “You know what I think?” You slowly dragged your tongue across his tear tracks, your body flushing with heat at the taste of the bitter salt. “I think,” you murmured against his jaw, “that I like seeing you cry.”

Jesse’s breath hitched on a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks. It was fairly intoxicating, seeing the giant man completely fall apart under you, trapped between his desperation and his personal standards. When you slid forward, your body pressing flush against him, another sob wrenched from his gritted teeth.

You decided for the moment to have a bit of mercy. Reaching down, you grasped his wrists and lifted his hands to your waist. His fingers instantly clenched in the silk babydoll dress, shaking as he grabbed at your waist. His entire body lurched forwards towards you, eyes fixed on your face.

You hummed softly, brushing a kiss to his jaw. “Your eyes are so pretty when they’re filled with tears, Jesse,” you purred, drawing his face closer to you. Still, you refused to kiss him, instead trailing your lips down his jaw, down to his throat. You opened your mouth against his neck, savoring the taste of his skin and the soft scent of his cologne.

Jesse’s trembling fingers jerked against your waist, and he slumped into you. His hands slid over your waist to your lower back, his touch practically reverent as he squeezed. His breaths came quick and fast, breaking occasionally on a sob. Every time you suckled or moved your lips, every time your hands slid down his shoulders, he gasped and shuddered, more tears dripping down his cheeks.

You slid your hands down, starting to unbutton his shirt. Your tongue dragged across his neck, and you felt the bulge in his pants throb against your thigh. “Isn’t this punishment fair, darling?” you cooed. “I only ask for a few tears, hmm? A front row seat to your pretty eyes?”

His head jerked, even though it wrenched another tortured sob from him. Despite the contact, you could feel his frustration mounting.

You pulled back, looking up at him as you finished unbuttoning his shirt. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Your fingers slid across his bared chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “But isn’t this what you wanted? Me, paying attention to you?”

His gasps had turned ragged. His hips jerked, rutting up against your thigh. A strangled noise left his throat, his eyes squeezing shut. His grip on your waist threatened to leave fingerprints against your skin.

“No?” You bit your lip, raking your nails lightly against his chest. “Then what is it you want, hmm?”

His eyes flickered down to your lips, unconsciously licking his own. His fingers clenching, he pulled you down to grind against his cock, straining in his trousers. Pants fell from his mouth, and he kept glancing from your eyes to your lips.

You reached down, teasingly trailing your fingers down his chest and stomach. Unzipping his trousers, you looked up at his face and smiled as you traced one fingertip down the bulge in his underwear. His eyes fairly rolled back in his head, more tears streaming down his face afresh.

“Look at you, already such a mess,” you murmured, sliding your fingers into his underwear. The moment you wrapped a hand around his cock and slid up, you were rewarded with a guttural groan. He gritted his teeth, clearly struggling to stay still. With a soft laugh, you leaned up and brushed a kiss to his ear.

You tugged at his collar. “Why don’t you lie down for me?” you murmured.

He immediately complied, his hands still clamped around your waist as he turned and shifted up, lying down on the couch. He stared up at you, face still twisted in agony and desperation.

Lifting yourself a little, you tilted your head at him. “Take your pants off for me?”

He practically kicked his pants and underwear off in his haste. You guided one of his hands to the latch on the side of your own panties, giving him an amused smile and nod. His trembling fingers unlatched them, his chest heaving as he watched the black silk slide away from your skin. The moment you lowered back down onto him, his cock throbbed against you and his back arched.

Leaning forward, you hummed a pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Jesse, love,” you murmured. “Cry for me a little more?” You cupped his face in your hands, feeling your wetness coat his own length as you ground against his tip. But you deliberately kept shifting, not giving him any steady pressure.

Another broken whine came from him, and a few more tears slipped down his cheeks. Frustration scrunched his face, his neck mottled with red and flushing down to his shoulders and chest, making your white nail marks stand out. His hips jerked, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

“Is this what you want?” You pressed down against him again, feeling his cock slip against your wet folds teasingly.

His head jerked in a nod, almost violently. Tremors kept running through his arms, his body occasionally shuddering under you.

You leaned down and sucked his lower lip between yours. Your teeth nipped at his lip, and you finally slanted your mouth over his. Tears poured afresh down his cheeks as he desperately pulled at you, trying to get closer, kiss you more. You relented and let him, thumbs brushing against his jaw as you hummed softly into his frantic, pleading kisses. Without warning, you slipped your tongue between his lips, feeling his mouth part with alacrity. When you finally parted, his green eyes were glazed over with tears, hazily staring at you.

Then you smiled at him slyly. “I think you’ve deserved a little bit more,” you decided.

The moment you slid his tip into you, he choked. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling for breath. His entire body froze, humming taut under you and his eyes sightlessly staring up at the ceiling.

You observed his wrecked expression, licking your lips with satisfaction. Rarely did Jesse ever fully submit to you like this, usually a brat. But tonight, you had absolute and utter control, and you intended to milk every last ounce of satisfaction out of it. The memories would fuel you for years of his utterly ruined expression, tears slipping down his cheeks as he drooled uncontrollably.

“So pretty, darling,” you purred, licking the tears from his cheek. You gave him another kiss, letting his hands wander over your waist and up your front. “So good for me. Do you think you can handle more?”

His eyes widened, breath quickening. He glanced down, then shook his head jerkily. Then nodded. Then shook his head.

You tilted your head. “Hmmm.” A wicked grin crossed your lips. “No? Oh, but I think you can,” your said, just as you lifted yourself and fully sheathed him inside you.

Jesse sobbed. His mouth opened, tongue lolling as he gasped. Tears poured down his cheeks from the mingled pleasurable pain and relief. His cock throbbed inside you, and his hands grasped desperately at your thighs. His entire body started to shake, arching.

You barely gave him time to adjust before you were already bouncing on him, hands braced against the back of the couch. Laughter spilled from your lips, delighted and cruel, as his hands scrabbled against your thighs, raking across your skin. Moans kept being torn from his throat, your name framed on his lips.

As soon as you angled your hips and brought your fingers down to ring tight circles on your clit, you hissed in pleasure. You pulsed around his cock, earning another helpless sob and wave of tears. He just hit that one spot inside you perfectly, again and again, until you bit your lip and moaned his name as you came around him. Your body clenched down on him, even as you kept fucking yourself through your orgasm.

More laughter spilled from your lips. “Are you gonna cum for me, Jesse, my pretty darling?” you asked breathlessly, purposely moaning his name. “Gonna cum inside me?”

The only warning you got from Jesse was another sob and the gritting of his teeth. His hands flew to your hips, slamming you down on him one more time before holding you there with an iron grip. Gasps tore from his mouth, his eyes trying to blink away tears as he stared up at you.

You hummed, caressing his hands and arms as you bit your lip in satisfaction. He kept pouring into you, his hips jerking once in a while and wringing a whimper from him. Finally, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His lips parted under yours weakly, chest heaving under your hands.

“Thank you, Jesse,” you cooed sweetly between kisses. “You’re so good to me, make me feel so good.” Your mind fuzzed with the pleasure of both your high and the sight of his tears.

He pushed up against you, kissing you fervently. Though he didn’t say a word, you could feel his thoughts through his drugged, sloppy kiss.

You giggled, teasingly clenching down on him one more time and earning a jerk and grunt. “And I forgive you. But don’t do it again, okay?”

Jesse’s calculating look as he clearly weighed the consequences made you roll your eyes but laugh. Maybe this one would turn out to backfire against you, next time.

You decided it was worth it.

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter eighteen

Helloooo I almost posted this yesterday as a thank you gift and then I totally got caught up in schoolwork. Gotta love finals season am I right

Anywho, thank y’all so much for 1.7k followers <3 Here’s a long ass chapter that’s a good ol’ mix of fluff and angst xx.

Chapter Warnings: waking-up-together kinda fluff, no sexytimes but there are some ~suggestive~ comments of course, ANGST at the end (i’m so sorry), the end of this case is very near on the horizon

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Aaron wakes you when his first alarm goes off at 5a.m. It’s way too fucking early in your opinion, but you know he wants you to have time to go back to Emily and JJ’s room to get ready for the day.

Still, being woken by a kiss on your forehead is something you can see yourself getting used to. Not to mention using his chest as a pillow all night.

You tilt your head to capture his lips in a sweet kiss, not caring that the both of you probably have disgusting morning breath right now.

He pulls away first, nudging your nose with his before he rests his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. “Good morning, sweet girl.”

You can’t help the smile that splits your lips. “Good morning.” You close your eyes in your flustered state, burying your face down into his chest. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I want you to stay,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But we’ve got a job to do.”

“I know,” you sigh, opening your eyes to bring yourself back to reality. Then, you hook your arms around his neck, starting to grin. “Same thing tonight?”

He smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Depends on how much of a good girl you are today.”

“Ooh, a challenge,” you tease. “I dunno…I’m feeling pretty bratty this morning.”

You feel his arm tighten around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him in warning.

“I’m just teasing,” you murmur, propping your chin on his chest, giving him your best eyes.

But he isn’t fazed. “I know. I’m keeping track.”

So, naturally, you pout. “Fine.”

“Strike two.”

“I have a feeling this isn’t like baseball. Three strikes and I’m out?”

“Are you trying to find out?”

“Mm, maybe?” You grin, but, as always, the FBI Agent part of your brain comes back to life. “If we didn’t have to be downstairs soon, I’d say yes. But I probably should go get dressed.”

“Understood,” Aaron replies, a small grin on his lips too. “I suppose even as your boss, I can’t keep you here.”

“As my boss, we’re technically not even supposed to be in the same bed together,” you remind him with a snort, but seriousness comes over him. “What?”

“We still need to talk,” he says quietly. “Really talk about this, but right now I just want you to know...I don’t regret this. I want this. No matter the consequences.”

“Me too,” you whisper, fingernails gently scratching the base of his skull, your weak attempt at comfort. “Do you think there’ll be consequences?”

He sighs, and you rise and fall with his chest. “I don’t know.” He pauses. “If Strauss finds out somehow, maybe. I don’t know if keeping it from her until she inevitably finds out is better than telling her ourselves, but…”

“We’ll figure it out,” you assure him with a small smile. “But you wanna do this?”

Instead of answering you verbally, he pulls you closer for a soothing kiss, coaxing all your worries away.

“I want to do this,” he says, knowing you need to hear the words from his voice.

“Okay,” you murmur, taking a deep breath. “What do we do about the team?”

His eyebrows furrow. “What about them?”

You give him a tired look. “Come on. They know.”

“What?” He blurts, sitting up a little, taking you with him. “Rossi knows.”

“And Emily and JJ and Garcia,” you chuckle. “I didn’t even tell them. Emily saw us at dinner one night. JJ figured it out from the phone call a few days ago. Garcia just...knows.”

“What about Morgan and Reid?”

“Are you kidding me? Morgan knows. Have you seen how he irritates the shit out of me every day?”

“Exactly,” Aaron says. “He does it every day.”

“Have you noticed how he’s been doing it especially when you’re around?” You raise an eyebrow. “Come on, you’re our supervisor! I thought you were a better profiler than that!”

“We have a rule not to profile each other,” he says sternly, obviously a little butthurt that he didn’t see that everyone else knew.

“A rule that none of us stick to, by the way,” you laugh. “We just don’t voice it. But we do. Trust me.”

“I didn’t think you’d figured that out yet,” he admits.

“Eh,” you shrug. “It wasn’t hard. I caught myself profiling everyone. I figured I couldn’t be the only one who does it by accident.”

Aaron only smiles. He’s amazed by you every single day. Sometimes he wonders if you even know how intelligent you are. If you even know the full scope of your mind. Maybe you don’t, maybe no one does.

“But anyway,” you swerve back on track. “I feel like it should be unspoken, but just...no PDA, you know? It’s fine that they know because honestly I think they knew before we knew, but let’s not make it a big deal.”

“Agreed,” he nods. “We still need to be professional.”

“Exactly,” you breathe, glad to be on the same page.

His second alarm goes off, the one for 5:30, and you groan, dropping your forehead to his chest.

“Why does it have to be so early?” You mutter, your lips brushing against his skin as you speak. It sends a hot wave through him, one that causes him to promptly shift your body off of him. “What are you doing?”

“You need to go get dressed,” he says. “And if you stay here wrapped around me any longer, I won’t be able to let you leave.”

You grin. “Point taken.”

You roll off the mattress, fully aware that he’s looking at your ass, and at your entire body, marveling at the way you look in his shirt.

“Oh,” you say, doing a dramatic turn, watching his eyes very quickly move back to your face. “Do you have any boxers? I probably shouldn’t walk down the hall in just a shirt.”

He’s scrambling for a pair of his boxer briefs, the thought of anyone else seeing you just like this making his blood boil frighteningly fast.

“Thanks,” you smirk when he hands them to you. And you put them on in front of him, partly for a show and partly because the look he was giving you demanded it. “I’ll see you in an hour or so?”

He nods. “Try not to spend too much time gossiping.”

“Oh, please,” you shake your head. “They’re getting all the details.”

You’re out the door before he can even catch you, and you just know you’re going to get it later.

+++

Emily and JJ are on you as soon as you open the door, both of them dressed and ready, arms folded over their chests like Moms whose daughter stayed out too late last night.

In a way, that’s completely accurate.

“And where have you been?” JJ asks, fully entering her Mom persona.

“Uhm, a friend’s house?” You play along, trying to inch your way to the bathroom.

But Emily knows your move, and stands in front of the bathroom door. “Is this friend named Aaron?”

“...maybe.”

And the façade falls, because they both cheer, pulling you into a hug.

“Finally!” Emily screams.

“Finally, what?” You laugh. “The night before I was also in his room.”

“Oh, we know,” JJ assures you.

“Finally, you admit it,” Emily clarifies. “So...details?”

“So...we have to be downstairs soon and I need to get dressed,” you walk past them to your bag. After grabbing your clothes, you turn back around to find them still staring at you. “What?”

“You’re in his shirt,” JJ says, still smiling.

“And boxers,” you laugh, pulling the hem of his t-shirt up a little. “Guys, don’t make this a big thing.” You pause, heading toward the bathroom. “He was a little upset that I knew everyone knew, and he didn’t.”

“How did he not?” Emily scoffs. “He can be so dense.”

You shake your head, shutting the bathroom door to get dressed.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed and looking more presentable, Emily and JJ are finally getting ready, too. They still watch you like a pair of hawks stalking prey, though. You just hope they won’t make any comments later.

That’s wishful thinking and you know it. But hopefully the comments will be held in at least until you’re all on the jet, heading back to Virginia.

+++

When you walk out of the elevator with Emily and JJ, you find Hotch standing with Rossi, the former looking much more grave than you left him. And he’s on the phone.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, picking up the pace. You glance at Hotch, silently asking, and he nods. “There’s another body,” you fill in Emily and JJ, ignoring the strange look that Rossi gives you.

Once Hotch hangs up, he looks immediately at you. “There’s two bodies. Male and female.”

“What?” Emily blurts. “In the same location?”

He nods. “Same house.”

About this time, Morgan and Reid step out of the elevator, jogging over when they see the team’s faces.

“What’s going on?” Morgan asks.

“Two bodies this time, same house, male and female,” you explain briefly.

Hotch jumps in. “JJ: you, Reid, and Y/N head over to the precinct and get Garcia on the phone. Get her to find everything she can on these new victims.”

You nod, glad he’s not sending you to see anymore bloodied bodies. Just the thought has a chill running down your spine.

You don’t want to admit it, but it’s hard not to picture Trevor’s face. It’s hard not to feel the thrill of the possibility of revenge. But you know that’s only the irrational part of your brain. You know you wouldn’t really act on those thoughts.

But they’re still there.

+++

Back at the precinct, you’re dialing Garcia and stirring a cup of shitty coffee. When she picks up, she sounds about as frizzed as you feel.

“Good morning, my angel sent from Heaven,” she sings, sounding far too bright for seven in the morning. “What can I do you for?”

“Good morning,” you chuckle. “We’ve got two new victims.”

“Mm, I know,” she groans, and you begin to hear typing. “Morgan texted me their names, I was waiting for your call.”

“Yep, we just need you to work your magic, that’s all.”

“That I can do,” she replies, no doubt through a smile. “Speaking of magic…”

You already know where this is heading. “Seriously? Who told you?”

“JJ and Emily texted me,” Garcia admits. “But you know I was going to weasel it out of you eventually, anyway!”

“Yes, I know,” you roll your eyes, tossing the coffee stirrer and empty cream and sugar packets in the trash. “Listen, how about this: Once this case is over, we’ll all have a girl’s night at my place with a bunch of junk food and wine, and I’ll give all the details -- whatever they might be at that point.”

You can’t let yourself believe that you’ll still be together because who knows what could happen. Anything could happen. The universe has a bad habit of getting in the way of your love life.

“You know the way to my heart,” Garcia sighs dreamily. “It’s a date. Speaking of dates, it looks like our two victims were married.”

“Married?” You nearly yell. Talk about a plot twist. “And the guy brought our unsub home for a one-night stand?”

“Looks that way so far,” Garcia says with a grimace. “Caroline Merritt, 35, was the CEO of her own company and traveled a lot. It looks like she changed flights yesterday and landed around eleven p.m. She checked her car out of the airport parking lot at eleven forty-five.”

“Great, so she might’ve walked in on our unsub.” You rub your forehead from the stress. “What about the other victim?”

“Jasper Rhodes was 34 and a part-time worker at the local Walmart,” Garcia lists off. “They had been married for three years, but Caroline never changed her last name.”

“Don’t exactly blame her,” you remark. “Alright, which one had allegations?”

“I’m about to burst your bubble, babycakes. Neither of them.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Garcia echoes, just as solemn. “Caroline has a squeaky clean record, aside from one speeding ticket when she was seventeen for going forty-five in a school zone. Jasper also has a clean slate for a record, but he does have one DUI from when he was twenty-two. Nothing else since.”

“It’s been twelve years, so for all we know, he could be sober for a decade now,” you mutter. “Okay. Do they have any connection at all to our other victims? Please say yes.”

“Cross referencing as we speak,” Garcia says, typing furiously. “Almost done… Negative,” she sighs. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head. “Thank you for being such a wizard, as always.”

“It’s my specialty,” she quips. “So...do I get some details about you and Hotch now?”

“Goodbye Garcia…” You chuckle, ending the call before she can ask anything else.

You walk back into the conference room, shaking your head sadly at JJ who looks up with hopeful eyes.

“Garcia found virtually nothing. Caroline got a speeding ticket at seventeen, and Jasper a DUI at twenty-two. Nothing since. And no connection to any of our other victims,” you relay the information, ending it with a sip of your coffee.

“This unsub is good,” JJ says, exasperated. “How is she always three steps ahead of us?”

“She’s not, really,” Reid says, and you can feel something else coming on. “It’s like she knows we’re closing in on her, so she’s going after those who have no reported allegations. She’s not as far ahead as we think, but maybe that’s what she wants us to think.”

“Reid, dude, you’re sounding like a fortune cookie right now,” you laugh. “I get where you’re going with this. But unless they find some DNA at the crime scene, we’re back to square one again.”

“Maybe…” He trails away, getting up to look at the map.

Something is going on in his head, but you’re not sure what. He’ll tell you when he’s finished with it, you’re sure.

In your pocket, your phone starts buzzing. Thinking it’s Garcia, you pull it out and answer without looking, but Garcia’s voice isn’t what you hear on the other end.

“I’m heading back to the precinct,” Hotch says.

“O...kay,” you furrow your eyebrows, mouthing, ‘Hotch’ to JJ. “Why just you?”

“I need to show you something,” he says slowly, like he’s struggling to get the words out. “The unsub left a note.”

“What does it say?” You ask, wondering why it’s like pulling teeth to get him to speak.

“It’s addressed to you,” he finally says, and all the blood drains from your body. “It’s in an envelope and sealed. Your… Your name is on the front.”

You’re not sure what to make of that at all.

“Okay,” you say, your brain unable to really process it. “Okay, we’ll look at it when you get here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Aaron,” you whisper, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Don’t say that to me. You’re scaring me.” You pause. “What are you sorry for?”

“For this note,” he replies, voice quiet. “For this unsub targeting you, and now for scaring you.”

“What does the note say?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I didn’t open it.”

“Okay. Just...hurry, I guess.”

“I’m turning into the parking lot now.”

“Okay, see you in a sec,” you murmur, ending the call.

You look up from the phone to find both JJ and Reid staring at you, concern swimming deeply in their eyes. You don’t even have the energy to offer them a reassuring smile. Nothing about this is comfortable for you.

Why would the unsub leave a note addressed to you?

Hotch walks through the precinct doors a few moments later, a man on a mission as he walks directly to the conference room. You’re explaining to JJ and Reid about the note when he walks in, and you fall silent upon seeing him.

He hates that he even called you to warn you, but he had to do something. His mind was racing on the drive. He had to hear your voice, and he knew you were bound to ask why he was coming back on his own, what’s so urgent, so he knew he’d have to tell you.

But the fear in your eyes right now is something he never wants to see again. Ever.

“Where is it?” You say, your voice wavering.

Slowly, Hotch pulls the envelope out of his jacket pocket. It’s in a plastic bag, which is standard protocol for evidence, and you begin searching for a pair of gloves.

You find a pair and start to slip them on, grimacing at the way your hands shake, and using your peripheral vision to see that Aaron is watching you closely.

Once you’re gloved up, he hands you the plastic bag. It feels much heavier than it should.

Carefully, you pull out the envelope, swallowing down the nausea you’re feeling. As Hotch said, your name -- Agent Y/N L/N -- is scrawled on the front in messy handwriting. Fortunately, Reid can examine that, and this letter if it’s handwritten.

You break the seal on the envelope, flinching slightly, and ignoring that you did. But Aaron saw it.

You pull out the note and half of you cries in relief because it is handwritten, and the other half of you feels sheer terror because your business card is taped to the top left hand corner.

“Shit,” you cuss, closing your eyes.

“What?” Aaron asks, taking a step closer, lowering his head to meet your eye level.

“My business card,” you say, opening your eyes again, hating the way things look blurry for a moment. JJ and Reid are just fuzzy figures at the table when you look around the room. “It could’ve been anyone at the meetings. I handed my card to as many that would take it. There’s no way I’ll remember everyone, or even half of them, I mean, I ran out of cards, I had to go stand by Morgan because--”

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Aaron stops you, putting both hands on your arms. “Look at me, please.”

Slowly, the world comes back into focus and you meet his brown eyes, finding your peace there like you have so many other times before. You focus on the weight of his hands on your arms, grounding you, bringing you back.

“I know it’s difficult,” he says. “But you need to breathe.”

You nod, sucking in a deep breath a little too abruptly, not even realizing you had been taking shallow breaths in the first place.

“Good girl,” he whispers, so low that he’s almost mouthing it, careful not to let JJ or Reid hear. And it’s not sexual or sensual this time. It’s comforting. “Can you read the rest of it?”

You nod. “I can help you end your suffering. I can help you avenge. I can help you heal. It doesn’t have to be this way.” You pause, looking up from the note, looking between Hotch, JJ, and Reid. “What does that even mean?”

“Did you talk about your experience during the meetings?” Reid asks.

“A little bit, but I barely scratched the surface of it,” you admit. “And I didn’t mention any names. I might hate him, but...I’d never send a serial killer after him.”

“I know,” Hotch says. “We’re not accusing you of that,” he adds gently. “It’s clear our unsub feels a connection to you now. Something you said must’ve resonated deeply with her.”

“But all I said was that he was my fiancé and that I didn’t report him, so that still gets us nowhere. She’s still a ghost.”

“She’s not a ghost,” he says sternly. “We will find her. You’ve already seen her once.”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember seeing her, Hotch.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is she’s reaching out. Which means we’re close.”

“Not close enough,” you protest, tossing the letter back on the plastic bag on the table. “I need to take a walk.” You move toward the door, and he’s following you, so you add quietly, “Alone, please.”

Hotch nods, and watches you go, more worried than he’s ever been in his life.

+++

When Rossi, Emily, and Morgan return to the police precinct, they spot you sitting alone on a bench outside the front doors.

“I got this,” Morgan says, hopping out of the car and heading to you, gesturing for Rossi and Emily to head inside. They share a look and nod, disappearing into the precinct to leave Morgan alone with you.

You don’t even look up from your hands when you see Morgan coming over from your peripheral vision.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He asks, standing in front of you.

“I’m really not in the mood right now, Derek.”

“Too bad,” he shrugs, sitting next to you on the bench, stretching his arm out behind you. “What’s going on? You know I’m just gonna keep buggin’ you until you tell me.”

You snort. “I know.”

“So…” He pauses. “Tell me. It’ll save us both a whole lotta time. And it’ll save you a whole lotta stress, sittin’ there with all that in your head.”

You know he’s right. And you know he’s the only one who really gets it.

So, you tell him what’s wrong.

“The unsub left that note just for me. My card was taped to it, Morgan.”

“And?”

“What do you mean and? It means I laid eyes on her, maybe talked to her, handed her my fucking card, and I still didn’t know it was her.”

“We’re not superhuman, Y/N. We only see what they show us. She probably put on a mask while talking to you.”

“Well now she’s still out there--”

“Listen to me. I ran out of cards too, remember? We started using yours. I easily could’ve given her your card. Hell, I was there with you, I probably looked at her a dozen times, too. Are you gonna yell at me for not recognizing her?”

“No--”

“Then stop doing it to yourself, you hear me?”

“I just… She feels a connection to me. What does that say about me?”

“That you’re a relatable person,” Derek offers, causing you to glare at him. “Hey,” he raises a hand in surrender. “I’m just being logical. It doesn’t say anything about you. Because a serial killer’s view of you is not who you are. You are who you are.”

“Thanks for the fortune cookie.”

“Don’t get that tone with me, kid,” he replies tiredly. “You know you’re not really mad at me, so don’t take it out on me, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you rub your forehead. “I’m just…”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know that, but you still need to hear it,” he says. “And I’ll always be here to tell you, got that?”

You look over at him with a small smile. “Got it.”

He smiles too, glad to see you’re feeling better. He shoves your shoulder lightly, playfully. “Come on. Let’s get back in there.”

“Yeah,” you nod, standing up.

He walks ahead, but you stay still, wondering if you should even ask what you’re about to ask. But Derek notices your hesitation and turns back around, studying you.

“Spit it out,” he says, knowing there’s something.

“The unsub is trying to talk to me,” you say, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “So...what if we set up a trap.”

“What?” Morgan deadpans, raising his eyebrows, turning his body to completely face you.

“What if we--”

“Use you as bait?” Morgan finishes, incredulity coating his words.

You nod. “I wasn’t going to word it like that, but--”

He scoffs, looking more and more pissed off as the seconds go on. “Hell no. Are you outta your damn mind?”

“No, I’m not. I’m--”

“No,” he stops you, holding up his hand, pointing at you. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Don’t go there. We will find this unsub, and we will do it without you sacrificing yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be sacrificing myself!” You protest. “You guys would be there. You’d have my back.”

“We can’t predict everything this unsub will do, Y/N, you know that,” Morgan fires back. “And I’ll be damned if I let you throw yourself into danger like this. It’s not happening. You hear me?”

SIghing, you nod. “I hear you.”

“Have you even told Hotch about this?”

“No.”

“Good. Don’t,” Morgan replies. “You’ll just get a lecture and you and I both know you don’t need that right now.”

“I know.”

He pauses, shaking his head. He steps forward, wrapping you in a hug, eyes closing when he feels you burying your face in his neck. “I love you, kid,” he whispers. “And I know it’s hard, but you got this, we got this. And it’s gonna be okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod into his neck, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Next chapter

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Would you write some steamy make out session between fem!reader x a daughter of your choice? Maybe the daughter would sneak out of the castle or sneak reader in the castle into her bedroom. They can go all the way, I'd love a dominant top reader in this, but if you're not comfortable writing about that someone can interrupt them when reader is just about have their hand in the daughter's pants. Thank you in advance!

I picked Bela, cuz I've already got some nsfw with the other two planned. Not gonna lie, this had me, like, screaming in the middle of the night because I'm incredibly easily flustered, and whooooo boy this is what the folks would call "horny". Anyway, I tried, hopefully it's good. If not, please forgive me, I haven't written nsfw in ages (can you believe I used to write this stuff with a straight face?). PS: the reader probably isn't as dominant as you were going for? I just, idk, personally exude bottom energy (even as an ace) and struggle a lil with that sort of thing. If I understand terms correctly (and I do not), the reader might count as a 'service top'. What does that even mean. I'm probably not correct. Just. Just read the thing and see if it's any good, leave me to my awkward flailing.

Under read-more for horny, obvs. Also because this is, like, 1.5k words, which belongs under a read-more. Oh, also not beta read? I could not willingly make someone read this and edit it.

Sweet Talkin' (Alt: the fic that killed j)

“Are you sure we won’t get caught?” You asked, butterflies in your stomach, equal parts nervous and excited. This date had taken weeks of planning. Every last detail was covered, from location to timing to where a certain noble would be, backed up by maidens and begrudging sisters alike. At the end of the day, you really shouldn’t be nervous. But considering just how special this was supposed to be… well, you couldn’t help your anxiety. Evidently your girlfriend feels much the same, as her reassuring smile was hardly as confident as it normally was.

“We’ve gone over this a thousand times, darling, we know it’s going to work out fine,” Bela Dimitrescu replied, before pulling you in for a quick kiss. The two of you stay in each other’s arms for a moment, gently resting your foreheads together. “It will be fine, it has to be. If my mother found out-”

“She won’t,” you interjected, quickly, trying to do for her what she had done for you. “You said it yourself, we’ve double and triple checked. As long as we finish up before dinner, as planned, your sisters will keep her distracted. Admittedly I’m still not sure how you managed to convince them to help.”

“The threat of mutually assured destruction,” Bela replied, as if it was obvious. Something about the way she was always so fast to respond, usually with something clever, made your heart skip a beat. Ooh, and the confidence she radiated? Even better. “Besides, I’ve covered for the two of them a dozen times or more, I think they owe me one. Now, let’s just enjoy this time we have together, alright?” Then she takes both of your hands in her own, giving them a soft squeeze, while looking at you lovingly.

“Is it getting a little warm in here, or is it just me?” You asked, blushing, almost overwhelmed by the heat shared between the two of you. There’s a slight lump in your throat, but you push it down as fast as you can. After all, this was exactly what the two of you had wanted, and you happened to have a little ‘surprise’ in mind. Now seemed like the perfect chance to act. “Maybe we should do something about it, hmm? Don’t want me overheating during our date, now do we?” Well, it wasn’t your smoothest moment, for sure. But you were used to Bela taking the lead in these sorts of situations. This was simply your turn to have some fun, finally show that you didn’t always need to be told what to do (not that you minded, at least not when it was Bela giving you commands).

“Oh? Do elaborate, darling, I’d love to hear what you’re suggesting,” she replied, soft smile betraying her mirth. For a second you see her gaze drift from your eyes to your lips, and you have a feeling you know exactly what she’s thinking about. Seizing the moment, you wrap an arm around her waist, then pull her in for a kiss. Soon enough you two are pressed against each other, eager in your movements, hearts racing in sync. Slowly but surely you move your hand, edging it down her back, then a little further… Bela gasps as you gently grab her ass, not having expected you to be the first to make such a move. A few moments later you have to break for air, chests heaving, but you don’t let go of her entirely.

“Less clothes, for starters. And since your skin isn’t, hmm, quite as warm as mine… I was thinking I could use that to my advantage. If your thighs need a little warming, we could kill two birds with one stone,” you said, practically purring, voice lower than usual. A blush soon rises up Bela’s cheeks as she considers your offer. It doesn’t take her long to smirk, satisfied, one hand going to cup your cheek.

“Right now, there is nothing I would love more,” she murmured. It’s all the encouragement you need to act. Without hesitation you tuck an arm behind her legs, sweeping her up and onto the desk in one smooth motion. It’s a good thing she cleaned up for our date, you think, as you position your body between her thighs. For now you focus your lips on her neck, leaving a trail of kisses along it. Meanwhile your hands find themselves on the fabric of her dress, slowly sliding it upwards, revealing more of her soft skin, ready and waiting for your touch. She lets out a quiet moan as you work, using one hand to hold your head close to her. “You’re rather eager today, dear. Worried we won’t have time for you to get a turn?” Bela asked, in between sharp breaths, teasing as ever.

Instead of replying, you just run your tongue over a particularly sensitive spot on her neck (one you’ve taken advantage of many, many times), unable to stop yourself from smiling when it draws another, louder, moan from her lips. Savoring the feeling, you give her the softest lovebite you can manage. Then you finally get the hem of her dress up to her thighs, allowing you all the access you need, and you pull back to look her in the eyes.

“The only thing I’m worried about is how loud you’re about to be. I wouldn’t want to scar the other maidens,” you said, grinning. Part of you remembers that Daniela and her girlfriend had already handed out plenty of mental scars. The rest of you, however, is content to focus on your girlfriend. So you give her one last quick peck on the lips. Seconds later you’re on your knees, looking up to admire the view. You can’t help but release a low breath at the sight. It takes you a moment to recover, blushing heavily, before you get back to work. Reaching up you take the edge of her underwear in your hands, tugging it away. Bela shifts as you do, trying to make it easier for you, and before long you’ve removed it entirely and tossed the garment over your shoulder. Normally you’d be neater, but when the two of you had all the time in the world… why bother?

Even with one hell of a prize right there, you don’t go straight for her cunt. You place a kiss against her inner thigh, then another one, taking your sweet time. It’s driving Bela crazy, and she’s squirming in place. Picking up the pace just a bit, you add in a couple nibbles, slowly climbing up her thighs, hands ensuring they stayed parted. Right as you move in for more, her fingers tangle in your hair, urging you closer, closer. On one hand you want to tease her, payback for a dozen times she’s done this exact thing to you. On the other hand… your lips can’t help themselves. You’re kissing her clit, loving the way she gasps in response, switching to using your tongue, quick licks one after another. Now her fingers are curling in your hair, pulling ever so slightly.

“Babe,” Bela gasped, struggling to keep herself from bucking too hard, free hand clenching the desk as hard as she could. Eager to please her further, you work faster, tongue rolling over her wet folds, then focusing on her clit, cycling the motions, even as she moves herself against you. You swear you can almost hear her heart racing- but it’s just your own beating in your ears, nearly drowned out by the sound of her pleasure. Every sound urges you onward, rewarding every lick or kiss with a surge of pride. You were the reason she was gasping, calling your name, shaking ever the slightest. Soon, well, soon you’ll be the reason why she was cumming. “Oh fuck,” she said, tensing up for a split second, one last lick sending her over the edge. The way she tugs on your hair hurts, but you know it’s more out of reflex than anything else.

“Mmm,” you hummed, pressing a couple soft kisses to Bela’s inner thighs, letting her come down from her high without having to worry about overstimulation (at least not yet). Then you’re rising back to your feet, glad to stretch out a little. “Ready for round two?” You asked, teasing, though a hundred percent ready if she did agree. To your surprise… she nods, eagerly, sending you a familiar smirk. “Well, I’d better get to work, then.” With that said you move closer, grinning just as wide as your girlfriend, beyond glad that you had plenty of time to do whatever you wanted with each other… because the two of you were going to need every minute.

[nexility-sims]

What stories (on simblr or otherwise) have inspired yours?

ooh ! me, seeing this ask and immediately forgetting every book i’ve ever read or movie i’ve ever seen—! i’m so sorry, but i’m a wordy bitch who foams at the mouth anytime anyone asks me anything about my story. i got carried away, but ... y’all can keep scrolling adshkfldsff

okay, i’ve said before that the direct inspiration to make a simblr story came from @historicalsimslife​​ and @thegrimalldis​​. i can’t remember how i found either of them, but they each showed me respectively that 1) simblr storytelling was a thing, and 2) royal stories can be way more compelling than irl royals would lead you to believe, lmao. so, i decided to give storytelling a go, and eventually i also wanted to try the royal setting, based on reading alyssa’s work. i do believe that that @warwickroyals​​ motivated me to embrace being critical of monarchy as a concept and to also embrace ... how to say this ... i guess those grittier, dysfunctional plot lines that take more care to do well. ayanna makes it seem effortless tho ??? hmph. oh, and my original inspiration for the bancrofts whose legacy feeds into this story is ... the vanderbilts. :^)

in terms of my story itself, beyond the premise ... i draw inspiration from life stories ! rowena is heavily inspired by alice roosevelt and barbara hutton. marginally, also wallis simpson. alfonso is kind of an archetype i write often, but i can’t put my finger on where the inspiration for that type originally came from. why is macbeth coming to mind. rip. macbeth is a general influence for me, as a person, who thinks of stories. he also gives off Hot Man™ vibes, maybe on account of the sword-swinging and anguish. anyway......

beatriz is inspired partially by everything i wanted from daenerys targaryen and didn’t get ! i feel like songs have actually formed her in large part, too: a chunk of halsey’s album, if i can’t have love, i want power; lorde’s “yellow flicker beat,” valerie broussard’s “a little wicked,” and more recently, florence + the machine’s “king.” there’s a little bit of wednesday addams mixed in, too, probably. with both her and zuriñe, i am fully indulging my love for women who are Bad™ and don’t apologize for it. i’ve always been captivated by ostensible villains with whom you’re made to sympathize, both as a storytelling challenge and as a type of character. matriarch made of steel. heart of coal. selfishness that dresses up as selflessness. let her have power. she earned it. 

anyway, my ever-present inspiration for “romance that interests me personally,” generally, comes from layla and majnun on one hand—i will cry a thousand tears just reading quotes from it, smh—and catherynne valente’s deathless on the other. i guess that translates to “we are fucked, in every sense” and “we’re all suffering, beautifully and endlessly.”

i’ve had a dramatic, dysfunctional life myself, so .... honestly, i think i gravitate toward stories that let me explore that and give me control over it. i suspect it’s why i used to prefer films that didn’t have happy endings (somehow, the pandemic changed my media consumption habits, so now i binge watch shows i’ve seen a dozen times instead of seeking out whatever depressing drama netflix recommends). it’s probably why i like villains who aren’t one-dimensional evil but who hurt people they love for reasons they can’t fully explain. i disagree with the idea that “evil” is boring just because it’s more mundane than we like to think, but i do believe writing goodness—especially the mundane kind—is also incredibly difficult because it’s just as complex as badness. i’m off topic. rip 2x. 

i love world-building, and i don’t see enough stories—especially in this corner of simblr—that are ... not so “western,” so reflective of the colonial world, i guess? i live here in my real life, i study it for a living, let me go elsewhere !!!!!  i don’t expect that of anyone, to be clear, but ... as an ~indigenous person~, i just wanted to explore a place where the worldviews and beliefs are anti- or decolonial, or maybe simply were never colonized at all. it’s hard to do that, but it excites me as much as the character development i discussed above. i can’t say i’m doing it well or whatever, but i try to think of this aspiration as the guiding light or motivation for my choices. 

to the nuts and bolts, when i decided to write this story, i was learning about the history of modern mexico—specifically, the porfiriato and the revolution—so that influenced the setting. i have some mixed feelings about the latin american inspiration since i’m not latina myself, but ... i guess i hope it’s both fictional enough to not seem exploitative and appropriately respectful when i borrow things directly, like names. it’s why i try to keep the naming conventions for people and places internally consistent, for example. if i use indigenous words, there’s from a particular set of places. in essence, the choice comes from a place of admiration and solidarity, which i say w/ deep sincerity. there’s also my interest in medieval iberia with its portuguese and spanish cultures as well as the islamic influences of the period. that’s totally more for aesthetics and naming, tho, but i do take inspiration for the political drama from “modernization” struggles in mexican history. 

so, uh, in summary, let’s say i was inspired by what black panther was trying to do with wakanda but in the western hemisphere LMAO 

[evanpeterssource]

Evan Peters and Billie Lourd Discuss the Art of Dying Onscreen

BILLIE LOURD: Let me set the scene for you: I’m sitting outside my house in my never-washed car, because that’s the only silent place in my home, and it’s not even in my home. I have a wireless breast pump with me, so if you hear a weird sound, that’s what that is.

PETERS: I’m in my bedroom, currently in my PJs. I worked a night shoot last night and am doing a night shoot again tonight. So, I’m drinking coffee and trying to wake up and get back into it.\

LOURD: I know how that goes. My hands are on my temples for you. Okay, Ev, I’m fucking obsessed with Mare of Easttown. I do not watch any shows because if I ever have free time, it’s usually spent napping or just lying in a silent room. But I failed all my nap times with watching this show. You’re a fucking genius.

PETERS: Thanks Billie. I appreciate it.

LOURD: Tell me the story of how it all came to be.

PETERS: They sent me the script and it said that Kate Winslet was going to be the lead, and that it was an HBO crime drama. So I was like, dude, I’ve got to really work on this one. I did the self-tape thing, so it was super awkward and weird.

LOURD: It was a self-tape? Wow.

PETERS: Yeah, I sent that in, and then the director and writer and showrunner were like, “You want to have some lunch?” And I was like, “They’re going to tell me to redo the tape, I know it.” And then they offered me the part, thankfully.

LOURD: That’s when you know you’re a really good actor, is when you get a part off a self-tape. I’ve never done that.

PETERS: Oh come on, you’re a great actress. You can do that single-tear thing.

LOURD: I do have a single-tear thing!

PETERS: That’s incredibly hard to do.

LOURD: Only when there’s a promise of bratwurst at Krafty’s will I do a single tear. What was the scene that you had to tape?

PETERS: The earlier scenes, where I’m coming in and meeting Mare and she just does not want me there at all.

LOURD: I was going to say, if you had to do that drunk scene, or the breakdown scene, that would be a nightmare. Did you know you were going to die? How did that make you feel? I’m a therapist now.

PETERS: It was a little stressful trying to navigate that. You had a finite amount of time to cram in all this stuff. Because you knew how it was going to go, and you wanted it to have an interesting arc, but… poor Zabes.

LOURD: Dude, it was fucking devastating. Zabel is so sweet, and you’re like, “No, he was on such a fucking upswing!” You’ve gotten shot in the head a couple of times now, which is pretty rare for an actor.

PETERS: Yeah, he’s got to work on that quick draw. But it was a cool scene to shoot. We kind of stretched out time and it was like The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, where it was a stare-down, and you’re like, “God, this feels like a really long time to be staring at people.” But Craig, the director, was like, “We’ll edit it. It’ll look good.” And nowadays, everything’s CGI, so back in the day they probably would have used blanks to help with that, but it was just a click. Or the other actor going, “Bang!” and all of a sudden you would have to get shot in the head. And you’re like, “What are we, 12, playing with guns?” It was such an awesome set that they built. They found this property that was like an abandoned bar, with a house on the back. And then set dressing came in and made it that amazing, creepy, disheveled, messed-up house that it was. So it was really cool to be in there and feel like, “Oh my God, we got the guy.”

LOURD: It’s amazing to watch you piece it together and look at each other and hear the pipe banging. It’s so suspenseful. We’ve got to talk about Kate. Can I call her Kate? Should I call her Kate Winslet? She’s so fucking magical. What was that like working with her.

PETERS: I was pretty terrified and nervous and stressed out before meeting her. I’m such a huge fan, and she’s one of the best actresses of all time. But she was so warm and down-to-earth and immediately disarming. What’s really cool is that she’s very collaborative. I thought she was going to be like, “Nope, I’m right. You’re all wrong.” You know, because she’s brilliant. But she was very open to new ideas and exploring things. I found that really reassuring, and surprising, since she’s set at such a high caliber.

LOURD: That’s so cool to hear. I feel like every actor’s dream is to get to work with her. Did you stay in your accents all the time? I always wonder that when people do accents.

PETERS: I was in it the whole time. I’m not good enough of an actor to be able to pop in and out of it. Somebody on set said there are different levels. There’s the learning it, there’s the “I have to stay in it,” and then there’s, “I’m so good that I can pop in and out of it.” Kate was that. She was incredibly English throughout the whole thing. Like [in British accent], “Oh, hi, Zabes. How are you doing babes? You good? Everything good? Okay, great.” And then she’d be like [in Philadelphia accent], “Let’s go get a hoagie. Let’s go down to the shore and check out the store.” I was just like, oh my god. How do you do that?

LOURD: That is so trippy. I don’t think I could do that.

PETERS: No, I could not do that. She’s really impressive that way.

LOURD: What was your favorite scene to do with Kate? I have to stop calling her that. Lady Winslet?

PETERS: There were so many. The bar scene was pretty awesome because it was so improvised.

LOURD: Oh, really?

PETERS: Yeah, it was just kind of fun to be at a bar with Lady Winslet.

LOURD: That’s my dream.

PETERS: But there was another scene that I really liked too: When I first got in the car, and I’m like, “Hey, are we carpooling?” And she’s like, “Ugh, this fucking guy.” And then I get in the car and she slams on the gas and I almost smoke my head. I thought that was really fun because it was one of the earlier scenes that we shot, and it set the tone for how much Mare was annoyed at Zabel being there.

LOURD: How did you do the bar scene? Are you allowed to get drunk?

PETERS: No, you can’t get drunk unfortunately. But I would say I’ve done a ton of research over the years. You know, at a couple of your birthday parties.

LOURD: Would you rather do a death scene or a killing scene?

PETERS: Oh, that’s a hard question. It really depends on how you’re killing or dying. Dying is such a challenge, as an actor.

LOURD: I don’t like dying.

PETERS: It’s so hard. It’s like, how do you do it? And does this look believable? Can they see me breathing? It really depends on how you’re getting killed as well. There’s so many questions and so many ifs.

LOURD: Killing me in American Horror Story was such a laugh. I hope they put in parentheses, “She said sarcastically.”

PETERS: Yeah, that was a pretty horrific day.

LOURD: That was a rough one. I’ve watched it back and I can definitely see myself breathing. And the eyes are so hard, like to actually keep your eyes open. I feel like I’ve made the decision to close my eyes. Do you do open-eye or closed-eye deaths?

PETERS: I like to do a little halfsies—a little open, a little closed.

LOURD: I like it. Split the difference. Have you been on the streets since Zabel died? Do people come up and hug you and thank god that you’re actually alive?

PETERS: No. I’ve gotten some text messages that were like, “Sorry, man. You’ve got to work on that quick-draw.” I’m super stoked that people like the show.

LOURD: It’s one of those shows that’s now part of the zeitgeist. Even my baby loves it. How long did it take to shoot?

PETERS: Gosh, we started in October 2019, and then I was supposed to be done at the beginning of March 2020. I had about two or three weeks left. Then the pandemic hit and they punted it to September. I was like, “Oh man, I’ve got to keep learning this accent for six months.”

LOURD: And not eat all the double doubles in sight. You had to keep that accent and keep that bod.

PETERS: Yeah, it was a challenge.

LOURD: What do you think would have happened with Mare and Zabel if Zabel didn’t die? It’s a real thinker.

PETERS: Ooh, that is a real thinker. I think they would have gone on a few more dates and then Mare probably would’ve realized that Zabel’s not the one. Zabel would have been devastated again.

LOURD: I think they could have had a shotgun wedding in Vegas and lived happily ever after. It could have been great.

PETERS: I like that for Zabel. That sounds good.

LOURD: Do you think you would have moved to Easttown or would he have gone back?

PETERS: I think he definitely would have had to move out of his mom’s place. For sure that would have been step number one.

LOURD: Were you sad when he died or did you think that this was the perfect ending for him?

PETERS: I thought it was an interesting ending to the character. He kind of came in, and then it was so shocking, but that’s the way death is in real life. You’re never really expecting it, and then it happens.

LOURD: It’s amazing you got to know the whole arc of the character before you played him.

PETERS: Yeah, it’s rare to get all the episodes beforehand. You make a choice in episode two and then you get to episode seven and you’re like, “Oh wait, that was totally wrong, what I did in episode two… Can we go back and reshoot that?” And they’re like, “No.”

LOURD: Did knowing the ending affect how you played him? He was so lovable anyway, but did knowing he was going to die make you play him even more lovably, if that’s a word?

PETERS: Yeah, that did play into it. There was talk about making him a little bit more arrogant and cocky. But I thought, when he dies, it’d be more tragic if he wasn’t that. So we tried to make him a little bit bumbling and not as good of a detective and really trying. We wanted it to be as shocking and sad as we could.

LOURD: Did you do any actor-y stuff? Like, a cologne you wore? Or did you wear a special hat?

PETERS: That’s so funny. I wish I wore a special hat to work every day , like an old-school 1940s detective hat. I did always have my coffee mug. There was a little bit of a Zabel-mug thing going on. And there were rituals. I would write in the mornings and try to get into it, stuff like that. But god, I wish I wore a hat.

LOURD: We should incorporate that into our future careers, to make sure we have a hat for every role we play. And then you could have a case at your house of all the hats you wore.

PETERS: That’s so goddamn funny.

LOURD: People are going to be like, “Billie Lourd is a psychopath.”

PETERS: Oh, you know what I did do? I wore a cross. You can’t see it, but when he died, I wanted you to see the cross on his neck. He’s got this weird thing with religion where he was raised religious, but then being in the line of work that he’s in and seeing all this death and awfulness, you start to question that. And then his mom is very religious. So I wanted him to be, underneath it all, a little bit religious and hopeful and needing the protection of god when he went out into the field.

LOURD: That’s way better than a hat.

[fickleminder]

the years start coming and they don’t stop coming

In which Lilith’s return distorts her brothers’ perception of time.

Part 2 here

You’ve never seen the demon prince look so embarrassed.

“I can call for —”

“No, it’s okay. They deserve this.”

But you don’t, goes unspoken. You can see the pity in his eyes, feel the palpable disappointment in the air. Even Simeon and Luke make sure to hug you extra tight before stepping through the portal to the Celestial Realm, and Solomon promises to check up on you after you’ve returned home.

Thanking Lord Diavolo and Barbatos for their hospitality, you turn towards the final demon in the council room and put on the biggest grin your breaking heart can muster. “Hey, c’mere.”

Satan doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around you. It’s almost like he’s trying to make up for his brothers’ absence, the way he crushes you to his chest and cradles the back of your head.

You can’t find it in yourself to blame them. As far as miracles go, this is a pretty big one. Lilith coming back to life is an unprecedented event, one not even Barbatos had seen coming. Nobody has any answers either. She’s definitely not a demon, not an angel, not human; just an immortal who knocked on the front door of the House of Lamentation three days ago.

Her brothers haven’t left her alone since. You’re happy for them, you really are, but a bitter part of you can’t help but wish her return had waited until after the exchange program ended. At least Lucifer had the courtesy to pull you aside and thank you on his family’s behalf (though you’re quite certain you had nothing to do with your ancestor’s sudden revival), in addition to making a pact with you as a token of his gratitude.

With that, you could have summoned all of them to send you off just as effectively as Lord Diavolo giving the order, but it won’t be the same and you know it. Your only saving grace is Satan, the one brother who’d kept his head and anchored you in the sea of loneliness you’d been set adrift in over the last few days.

“I’m gonna miss you, cat boy.”

“I miss you already,” Satan laughs softly, pulling back with a warm smile. “I’ll stay in touch, I promise.”

You squeeze his arms affectionately and glance past his shoulders at the closed doors. There’s the smallest shred of hope in you that thinks the others will come bursting through any moment now, scrambling for one final chance to see you. You give yourself five seconds, silently counting down to a pipe dream, before pressing a kiss to Satan’s cheek and releasing him.

“It might not seem like it now, but the Devildom will always be here for you,” Lord Diavolo says as the world around you fades to white. “Farewell.”

.

.

.

“Did you lose track of time at the library again? You missed dinner last night LOL.”

“Levi, be nice!”

Satan only hums quietly in response. He can’t be bothered to correct the assumption; it’s a convenient excuse for when his brothers actually notice he’s missing anyway.

The irony of Levi calling him out isn’t lost on him. While the otaku is still obsessed with his games and shows, he’s no longer as shut-in as he used to be, venturing outside the comforts of his sanctuary more often. Satan has passed by the common room on many occasions to find him and Lilith gaming or binging anime together, and the content expression on Levi’s face proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that the void from his Henry’s departure has long been filled.

“Oh, but speaking of,” Lilith sets her cutlery down and smiles shyly at the fourth-born, “I haven’t had the chance to explore the libraries here yet. If it’s not too much trouble, can you show me around and recommend a few books?”

Shrugging non-committedly, Satan continues with his meal, not once looking her in the eye.

.

.

.

You’ve always wondered how someone with the Avatar of Lust for a brother can have such terrible fashion sense. It should be impossible to go wrong with dressing for a funeral, but you guess life (along with a certain eyesore of a tie) just loves to disappoint you. Still, you’re too glad to have Satan with you right now to care.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Anytime.”

You lean into the demon’s side as he holds an umbrella over both of you. Your eyes are drawn to the flowers he’d placed on your mother’s grave, the only splash of color against the dull tombstone. For the longest time, all you can process is the pitter-patter of the afternoon rain on the plastic wrap of the bouquet, and the comforting weight of Satan’s arm across your shoulders.

“She was in a lot of pain,” you admit after a while, your voice slightly hoarse. “The doctors had to sedate her. She went in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” Satan fidgets awkwardly, not quite sure what to say. He’s no stranger to death, but the loss of someone dear is unfamiliar to him. “Perhaps Simeon can find out if —”

“No, no it’s fine. I just — I need to —”

The umbrella is forgotten as Satan catches you, lowering you gently to the ground when your knees give way. You cling to him desperately, and it’s all he can do to draw you close as you start to wail.

.

.

.

Satan barely makes it three steps into the house before getting pounced on.

“How was it? Where did you go? Ooh you lucky demon, I want to hear all the details!”

“Oi, oi! What are you babbling on about?”

“Don’t act coy with me! Lilith saw you at the florist’s yesterday with the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers!”

“Yesterday? But —”

“How come you never told me someone caught your eye? I would have dolled you up, lent you some of my clothes —” Asmo gasps dramatically. “You didn’t wear that horrid jacket to your date, did you?”

Wrestling a hand free, Satan musses his younger brother’s hair. “None of your business,” he growls, walking away with a smirk when Asmo immediately releases him to fix his appearance. “Who do you take me for, anyway?”

“Aww come on, just give me a hint! Do I know them? Is it someone from RAD? Ooh, did you meet them at the library or —”

Ducking into the safety of his room, Satan shuts the door in Asmo’s face.

.

.

.

“Thank fuck. Who picked your outfit this time?”

“Barbatos. And shut up.”

You grab Satan’s arm with a laugh and lead him towards your table, politely introducing him as ‘Stan from work’ to any relatives who ask about the handsome young man accompanying you. Satan’s usual mask is in place, but there’s no mistaking the gleam of wonder in his eyes as he takes in his surroundings.

“Finally,” you sigh, sinking into your seat and grinning sheepishly at the blond. “Sorry about them. It’s just that they’ve never seen me with anyone, so they’re really curious about you.”

“Well, I’m glad you invited me along. I’ve never been to a wedding before.” The romantic in Satan is openly basking in the ambience of the reception. “You mentioned that your niece had gotten married?”

“Technically my first cousin once removed, but yeah.”

“And you’ve not been seeing anyone?”

“You would have been the first to know if I have,” you tease, nudging him playfully. “Apparently a lot of people are put off by the way I dress. Too modest, they say.”

But not without good reason. The pact marks on your body may be slightly faded from disuse, but they’re still discernable if stared at hard enough: Lucifer’s at the back of your neck; Mammon’s over your heart; Levi’s curled around your right calf; Satan’s circling your left arm; Asmo’s dangerously close to tramp stamp territory; Beel’s just under your navel; and Belphie’s on your ribs at the side you like to sleep on.

Passing them off as tattoos without attracting the wrong kind of attention is a little tricky, so you’d rather take a page from Solomon’s book and cover them up. Being called a prude is easier than dealing with cultists.

(It also helps you to keep your mind off of them, because some wounds continue to hurt even after they heal, so there’s that.)

Sensing the drop in your mood, Satan clears his throat to get your attention. It’s only then that you realize there’s music playing in the background, and couples moving from their tables to the floor.

Your companion stands up and offers you his hand, this time with a genuine smile on his face. “May I have this dance?”

.

.

.

Lucifer’s tone books no room for argument. “This will be a family event, so I expect your attendance. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little escapades over the past few months.”

“Tch.”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Whatever. I’ll be there.”

Satan has to resist the urge to hurl his hardcover at the back of Lucifer’s head when he takes his leave. That’s no way to treat a book, after all.

Beel’s Fangol team has an upcoming match and it’ll be Lilith’s first time watching him play. She’s been hyped up for weeks, so it comes as no surprise that Lucifer would use the opportunity to turn it into a family outing. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

Gone is the stuffy first-born who can spend days in his office if left unchecked. Lucifer is still as strict as ever, still fulfills his duties to Lord Diavolo diligently, but it’s like he’s managed to master balancing work and play overnight. He makes more time for his siblings now, even if it’s to dole out punishments for their endless shenanigans, punishments that vary in severity depending on how cutely Lilith pleads on their behalf.

Lucifer has always doted on her, and she has him wrapped around her little finger. Belphie has even gone as far as corrupting her into pranking him, and she need only bat her eyelashes to get off scot-free.

Lilith was the catalyst for the Fall, her descendent the glue that brought her siblings back together, and her return the final piece in making their family whole again.

But you were family too, Satan thinks sourly, pulling out his D.D.D. to mark the date in his calendar.

.

.

.

When you invite Satan over to your apartment for tea, he never expected to be introduced to your new housemate: a handsome fellow with chestnut brown hair, sharp jade eyes, a runner’s body, and the softest-looking toe beans he has ever seen in his immortal life.

“Satan, meet Satan!” You hold out the tabby towards him with a shit-eating grin.

Both demon and cat blink owlishly at each other. The blond doesn’t know whether to feel endeared by the feline sharing his name or insulted that you would replace him so easily, but all it takes is a single bop on the nose with a curious paw for him to melt.

Satan the tabby, who normally prefers to scale your shelves and nap between your books, spends the entire day a purring puddle in Satan the demon’s arms, shamelessly relishing in pets and massages to the extent that at some point, you have a very real fear they might just end up absconding back to the Devildom together. Thankfully, some kibble and freshly baked treats help you separate the two for a while, at least long enough for you to get some decent conversation in.

You brew a pot of Earl Grey with the beautifully crafted tea set Barbatos gifted you when you had first moved in, and serve the scones you made earlier in the morning using the baking tools blessed by Luke during your housewarming. You don’t know if the little angel had actually imbued them with Celestial magic, but everything you cook somehow always lifts your spirits when consumed.

Satan has to catch himself in the middle of regaling you with Mammon’s latest half-baked scheme. The wistful look on your face is new; you’re usually eager to hear what his brothers have been up to, but something feels off today. He pours you more tea, slides another scone onto your plate, and waits.

“…Are they happy?” You ask after a while.

The demon knows better than to lie, even if it’s to spare you from the truth he suspects you’re already aware of. “Yes,” he admits grudgingly.

“I’m glad.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

.

.

.

Lilith stands outside his room, holding a tray of tea and cakes.

“Hey, um, may I come in?” Her smile is both hopeful and uncertain. It’s a gamble, ambushing the fourth-born when he obviously has no interest in her. At best, he’ll make up an excuse to turn her away or just ignore her completely; at worst, well… she doesn’t really want to think about that. To her visible relief, he opens the door wider and steps aside.

Satan clears a space for her to set the tray down. There’s the briefest moment of hesitation before he drags your favorite armchair over and offers her a seat as well. He looks guarded but not openly hostile, a promising sign so far.

“You’ve been in and out of the house lately, so I haven’t had the chance to catch you. I thought we might sit down and talk,” Lilith says, pouring two cups of the hot beverage as she chooses her next words carefully. “The others told me about how you were born, but I understand that you are your own person. I’d like to get to know that person.”

A part of Satan is acutely aware of their one-sided relationship; he is familiar with her through Lucifer, but she has never met him. It makes sense for her to be curious about him, though Satan isn’t so sure he wants to return the favor. She reminds him too much of you in the way she prepares her tea, how she sits on your chair, her shy lopsided smile —

But she’s not you, and you’re not her, Satan has to remind himself lest he commits the same mistake his brothers nearly did after your lineage had been revealed. Now in a convoluted turn of events, it’s you who’s gone and Lilith here, and there’s no reason why he can’t give her a chance and treat her like the sister she could be to him.

It’s what you would have wanted.

Lilith tries not to let her shoulders slump too much when Satan quietly stands up and heads towards his door. She’s prepared to pack up and leave until she spots him grabbing several books from a nearby shelf.

“Have you ever read Mid-Fall Murders?” He asks, handing her a hardcover with a shy smile of his own.

.

.

.

“What’s it like?”

Satan’s grip on your hand tightens. “I don’t actually know,” he confesses, shuffling closer so that your shoulder and arm are pressed against his. It’s a strange sight, the two of you lying side by side on your bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.”

You’ve never heard a single word hold so much promise, but you have no reason to doubt the demon’s sincerity. Satan wouldn’t take pity on you just because you’re —

A light knock on the door, and in pokes Simeon’s head. “Ah, little lamb! I’m glad we made it in time.”

“Not so little anymore, Simeon.” You laugh softly, greeting Luke and Solomon as they trail in behind him. Satan brushes his lips over your forehead before getting up to receive your guests.

The day is as ordinary as it can be. You talk and catch up with your friends, trading stories and laughter over cups of tea that neither grow cold nor go empty. When the session turns into a mini book club gathering halfway through, Luke helpfully retrieves the debated titles from the massive shelf in the living room. He takes a while to find them; you’ve accumulated plenty of works over the years: recommendations by Satan, literature published under Simeon’s pseudonym, and handwritten tomes from Solomon to keep you in touch with your magic. The shelf is practically jam-packed with books, the only exception being a corner on the topmost tier, housing a little space that’s empty save for a worn green collar with a rusted bell.

Come sundown the five of you are still neck-deep in discussion, but as with all good things, the get together eventually reaches an end.

“Thanks everyone, it’s been fun,” you say, reclining back in your bed as Satan wordlessly cleans up. You squeeze his hand when he returns to your side and bid the others goodbye. “Hopefully I’ll see you guys soon?”

“About that…” Solomon clears his throat, wearing the smug look that usually accompanies a trick being pulled out of his sleeve, but this time it’s tinged more with excitement than mischief. “Simeon has a little present for you first.”

The guileless smile on the angel’s face betrays nothing as he steps forward and reaches into a small pouch at his hip. “Solomon, Diavolo and I have a theory. Now, keep in mind that this is all very experimental, but if it works, you’ll have more options to choose from, should you so wish.”

And then he brings out a ring.

.

.

.

“Are you, uh, are you okay?”

“Not in the mood, Mammon.”

“Oi, I’m trying to be nice here! Who do you think covered for your sorry ass when you came back past curfew the other day, huh?”

“What the hell do you want?”

“You may think you’re all stealthy and shit, but your eyes were pretty red that night. I thought you were at a book club meeting. Did something happen?”

“None of your business.”

“Argh, fine then! This is the last time I try to be a good big brother.”

“…Mammon?”

“?”

“...”

“...”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh, what are you — you can’t just say that and then run off! Get back here!”

.

.

.

“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”

Lilith’s countdown echoes along the deserted hallway, prompting Beel to nudge the deadweight on his back. “Belphie, go get your own hiding place.”

“Mmngh… zzz…”

“Come on, or she’ll win this round with a two for one. Again.”

“…Just dump me somewhere she won’t find me then.”

A tall order, especially since Lilith can easily track them down by listening out for Beel’s stomach and/or Belphie’s snores. Still, the sixth-born lumbers through the house as quietly as he can, doing a one-eighty whenever he hears Lilith’s cheerful hums coming from the opposite direction. Technically they can avoid being caught if they keep moving, but that would be cheating. They hid in the attic previously so that’s a no go, their room’s too obvious, the kitchen too tempting, the common room too exposed…

Maybe Levi’s room? The otaku had sound-proofed his walls to avoid distractions from the outside world when he’s gaming, so it’s an ideal location to hide. He can stash Belphie in the bathtub and run interference until time’s up.

Backtracking, Beel breaks into a light jog towards the other wing, keeping his ears open for their seeker. It’s only because of his heightened senses that he’s able to pick up the faintest traces of magic on one of the walls, causing him to pause in his steps.

“Hmm? Why’d you stop?” Slightly more awake now, Belphie rubs his eyes and slides off his twin, who’s studying the blank space intently. “What’s wrong, Beel?”

“There’s something here, something…”

“It’s just a wall —”

“No, don’t you feel it? I know you weren’t around then, but it’s the same glamor as that time Luke went missing and we —”

Beel goes white. He whispers a name, a name not spoken in the house for years, and a door flickers into view. One hand grabs Belphie’s in a death grip as the other twists the knob and pushes the door open, revealing an old yet familiar room.

The place is devoid of life. Most of the furniture are covered by sheets, resting under thick layers of dust. In the middle sits a tree, sagging with age and soft with rot. Sunken footprints mark the demons’ furtive venture into decrepit memory, and the creaking of floorboards with every step only tethers the growing nightmare closer to reality.

A photo frame crashes to the ground.

.

.

.

They deserve this.

Satan feels it the moment the spell concealing your room was broken. It had been his way of protecting your memory, ensuring that your sanctuary would only be accessible to those who made the effort to remember you. He cast it about a year after you had left the Devildom, after he realized that leaving your door in plain sight wasn’t doing you any favors.

Hidden away in an alcove at the back of the garden, curled up with a blanket and a thermos of hot tea, Satan slides a bookmark between the pages of his latest novel and leans his head back, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

Even this far away from the house, he can hear the cacophony of screams and shouts, objects being flung and shattered into pieces, a muted bang suggesting that a wall has just collapsed. The fallout comes as no surprise; waking up after living the past hundred years or so in a daze will do that to a person – or in this case, demons.

Although the sounds of fighting call to the rage bubbling within him, the vindictive thoughts of his brothers getting their just desserts cool it to a simmer. He knows he’ll have to face them eventually, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

“Meow?”

Emerald eyes blink open. There’s a faint rustle from the nearby bushes as a tiny Calico wanders out of the foliage, peering around the garden curiously. Upon spotting the blond demon, it perks up and makes a beeline for him.

“Hm? You’re not Callie. Are you new here, little one?” His mood considerably improved, Satan extends a hand towards the kitten. It skips the finger sniffing step and goes straight to headbutting his palm, begging for attention.

“You’re an affectionate one, aren’t you?” Satan caves immediately and scritches away with a delighted chuckle. He examines the markings on its tri-colored fur, wanting to recognize the friendly feline if it comes back in the future. The Calico is mostly white with patches of brown and black splashed over the back of its neck, near the base of its tail, just under the side of its ribs, and several other spots that seem to collectively resemble a familiar pattern…

Satan’s hand stills. He whispers your name, trembling with hope, and the kitten practically leaps into his arms, nuzzling his chin with a happy purr.

[mnemosyne-musing]

Right person, wrong time (River/11)

The Doctor opens the TARDIS door and peers around him expectantly before frowning. How strange. He appears to be inside a very ordinary block of flats. He steps outside and looks around more closely. He sniffs the air. Earth. No. Not Earth. Something that was trying to simulate Earth but not quite.

He can’t hear anything in particular. There’s a buzz of conversation that he can hear coming from further down the hall but no shouts of distress or screams for help. He wanders up to the nearest door, peering closely at the small intercom before pressing the button.

He’s not quite sure what or who he expects to answer the door. But what he certainly isn’t expecting to see is a slightly grumpy looking River Song.

“River?”

“You’re late,” she announces, one hand on her hip as she stands in front of him in the doorway.

“Late?” he repeats indignantly, staring at her in amazement, “What do you mean, late?”

She rolls her eyes and turns to head back inside, clearly expecting him to follow. “You said you’d be here half an hour ago.”

“Did I?” he mumbles to himself as he steps inside, closing the door behind him. He follows her curiously as she wanders back into a small living room with a cosy kitchenette at the far end. It’s certainly not Stormcage. It feels like an Earth colony from around the 50thcentury, the tech on display is evidence enough of that. However, there are also books and texts scattered around the living room. There’s also some piles of clean laundry and a stray pair of River’s heels in the corner. There’s some artwork on the walls and a few pictures on one of the shelves.

In fact, the whole place has an almost studenty feel to it which really doesn’t make much sense at all. His gaze returns to River and he finally takes in what she’s wearing. Not the particularly revealing pair of figure-hugging shorts, which his mind certainly clocks and plans to return to contemplating very soon. No, what draws his attention now is the baggy, sweatshirt that comes almost down to the hem of said rather-short shorts. The one that says ‘Luna University’ in big red letters across the front.

“You’re a student!” he blurts out as River frowns at him, “Here! On Luna!”

“Of course I am,” she looks as confused as he feels, “Where else would I be?”

“And you live here!” he gestures wildly around him.

“Yes, you helped me move in here from those awful undergrad digs, remember,” she frowns at him as he turns back to look at her, “Why are you acting so strangely all of a sudden?” she asks, looking more closely at him, “Did you eat one of those weird peach things again?”

“Peach, what? No!” he gapes at her as he desperately tries to process what’s happening.

A look of realisation dawns on her face before turning, rather terrifyingly, to one of glee. “Oh! You’re not late. You’re young!”

He splutters at that. “No! I’m not young. You’re young!” And she is young. Now that he knows, he can see that she looks a few years younger than when he’d last seen her. He can’t quite tell exactly how old she is, he’s not brilliant at telling human ages after all, but she certainly doesn’t look like a young student to him.

Her eyes rake up and down him before returning to his face. “Do you even know who I am yet?”

“Of course I do,” he lies as she lifts one eyebrow in surprise, “You’re River Song. Chief purveyor of trouble in half the universe.”

River lets out what could only be described as a squeal of delight. “Oh my god, you don’t know yet!”

“Well, how do you know who I am?” he retorts with a huff.

“It doesn’t work like that,” she scoffs with a toss of her head, “I’ve always known who you are,” he opens his mouth to protest but she simply fixes him with an absolutely wicked look and shakes her head, “Sorry, Doctor, spoilers!”

He glares at her but she simply leans forward and grins at him, her eyes wide with excitement. “I’ve never seen you this young before. And I have been waiting so long to say that to you!”

He can’t think of anything to say to that so he settles for shooting a final glare at her and then turning away to leaf idly through some of the books on the table.

“Why are you here anyway?” River asks curiously, watching as he drops a large archaeology textbook back down with a look of disgust.

The Doctor shrugs. “Dunno. Wasn’t aiming for here,” he picks up a scroll of parchment and brings it up to his face, sniffing it tentatively, “Amy and Rory are on their honeymoon. Thought I’d pop over to the waterfalls on Epsilon IV. Ended up here instead.”

She moves over and plucks the scroll of parchment out of his hands before he can subtly lick it. “Oh,” she turns around to put the scroll out of his reach, “So you didn’t mean to come here?”

He still doesn’t know River that well but he can tell that she’s trying to sound casual and unconcerned. It doesn’t fool him though and the tension in the set of her shoulders is a giveaway even though he can’t see her face. He hesitates for a moment. There’s a part of him that’s longing to run back to the safety of the TARDIS. Away from this terrifyingly young River Song and the way she looks at him.

However, there’s a note of uncertainty in her voice that he’s never heard from her before and it’s that that makes him pluck up his courage and ask her. “You said I was late? Late for what?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she says dismissively, too quickly almost, “Just a drinks thing in the archaeology department.”

“What kind of drinks thing?” he presses, watching her as she fidgets with a glass on the counter and avoids his gaze.

She shakes her head. “It’s just this drinks reception for new doctoral students and their, umm, their partners,” she says, rushing over the last bit very quickly, her eyes darting up to his to gauge his reaction and then away again, “But, it’s fine,” she continues breezily, “We can do something else. Or you can go if you want. Or-“

River trails off, her feigned nonchalance undermined as she still fidgets with the glass in front of her. He takes a deep breath and straightens his jacket lapels.

“You’re trying to steer me away from a party, River Song!” he exclaims, “I never thought I’d see the day!”

“Are you sure?” she looks up at him and if he wasn’t convinced before then the grateful look she shoots at him now is certainly enough to reassure him.

He claps his hands enthusiastically. “Of course! Lead the way!” he falters suddenly, his eyes falling to the rather scandalously short hem of her shorts, “Are you- are you going to go like that?” he asks, his voice coming out an octave or so higher than he had anticipated.

“Why? What’s wrong with this?” she asks, her face a picture of innocence but for the smirk playing around her lips.

He gulps and gestures vaguely at her legs. “Maybe something a bit less- I mean, more. Definitely more fabric.”

“Ooh, so strict for one so young!” she outright smirks at him before turning around and wandering across the room into where he assumes is her bedroom. If the extra sway in her hips accentuates her arse in those shorts then he definitely definitely doesn’t pay particular attention to it as she leaves the room.

Several hours later they are in one of the quieter bars on Luna, away from the student crowds. River had indeed changed outfit and is now wearing a rather fetching dark red cocktail dress. They are sat side by side at the bar, perched on high stools. A future version of him has clearly been here before as the barman handed him a menu for the milkshakes instead of the cocktail menu as soon as they sat down. So, here he is, sat enjoying a triple chocolate milkshake while a very young River sips her gin martini and brushes her knee against his from time to time.

The archaeology drinks party had been- Well, he still hesitates to use the word fun where archaeology is involved although he’s rapidly coming to the realisation that anything involving River Song could probably be fun. He glances covertly at her over the top of his milkshake. She’s humming along absent-mindedly to song that’s playing in the background. He recognises it as an old 20th century jazz song.

This younger River Song is definitely different to the one he knows. He’s only met her a couple of times in this body; the adventure in the Byzantium and then all that business with the Pandorica and the universe collapsing and restarting. She’s still the same flirty, confident, charming woman he knows but there’s an openness, he hesitates to call it a vulnerability, about her this young that he hasn’t seen before.

He’s suddenly gripped by a feeling of regret and self-loathing that it wasn’t the version of him she knows that showed up today. That she had to make do with an early version that barely knows her instead.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, as River turns towards him questioningly, “I’m sorry I’m not your- that I’m not the right person, the right me, the one that-, that knows you.”

She stares at him for a moment, gazing at his face searchingly before a soft smile curls her lips. “You’re always the right person, Doctor,” she says and he feels a warmth blooming through his chest at her words, “Even if your timing’s a bit off occasionally,” she adds with a grin as she leans in to steal a sip of his milkshake.

He feigns a gasp of outrage and swipes the glass back from her but, as they sit and gently bicker about the best flavour milkshake, the thought crosses his mind that maybe his timing isn’t actually that bad after all.

[saltymiraculer]

Ceremonial Kisses (Part 1 of 3)

Part 2

So I decided to try my hand at the “Marinette, the princess of China” trope and see how I did! Tell me what you think?

Also, the first chapter is going to be fluffy, the second chapter’ll have a sprinkling of salt, and the third chapter will be a mix of piles and piles of salt and some fluff. Be warned!

.

“I’ve got a big, big, big announcement for you today, class!“ Bustier chirped, clapping her hands to get their attention. “China’s princess will be coronated in a week and a half, the day she turns 18, as many of you know, and one class from the school will be selected to travel to China and watch the ceremony. Guess which class it was?“

“Uhhh…Mme. Mendeleiev’s!“

“Ooh, M. D’Argencourt’s? They’ve wanted that trip for weeks!“

“No, class, it’s ours! In three days, we’ll board the plane to Asia and have a few days to sightsee and explore, then attend the coronation on the second-to-last day!“

“Wow! Why our class?“ Kim asked.

Marinette knew exactly why. Marc had told her that the entire school was sick of Lila’s lies and wanted to enjoy the coronation without her butting in in the middle of the assembly to tell a ‘story’ about herself.

But she couldn’t just say that.

“You know, I actually know the princess,“ Lila said, immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “But her identity is being kept a secret for now. That’s how we landed the trip!“

“Wow, Lila!“

“That’s amazing!“

“So cool of you.“

“They know that’s stupid, right?“ Alya stage-whispered, earning a glare from Lila’s new puppy–more commonly known as Kim. She shrugged. “I’m just tellin’ the truth!“

Alya, who was now her only other supporter next to Nino (and technically Adrien, but she’d discuss that later–it was very complicated), had decided to Google Lila’s name during a sleepover and found…some rather incriminating Facebook posts.

After that, she was 100% team Marinette and an amazing friend, along with Nino, who had decided that he needed a theme song. No one knew why.

But they loved him anyways!

So while Bustier was rattling off facts about Chinese emperors and kings and queens, Nino was showing them his latest idea to expose Lila.

“Okay,“ he started. “First, we go to China. Then we do our sightseeing and shit, and then. I did some research, and we can ask the princess questions if we’re with a national news channel. Alya’s blog counts. For real, we can talk to the princess of China. And we ask her if she knows Lila.“

“Brilliant plan, Nino. I wonder how the princess will react to a few teenagers in the middle of a crowd of famous people.“

Nino frowned. “The princess is only, like, 17. She’ll probably notice us, Als.”

“Oh, that reminds me, your birthday’s on the same day as the coronation, Marinette! Weird, isn’t it? That you and the princess have the same birthday?“ Alya asked, pulling out her phone and swiping through something.

“Huh, yeah. You’re right. Maybe we can invite her to my birthday party?“

“Ooh, the wiki page says she likes custard buns, and I’m not sure how they know that,“ Nino chuckled. “but make sure to stock up on those.“

“Noted,“ Marinette said drily as Bustier turned to them with a condemning look on her face. “Alya! I hope what you’re doing on that phone relates to the lesson!“

“China’s princess’s identity is being kept a secret because the last two were sent death threats, dangerous items, highly innapropriate items, and several other things that prompted them to not reveal the princess until it was necessary.“

“C-correct, Alya. Good job.“

“Nice!“ Marinette mouthed, high-fiving Alya, who flipped her phone around to reveal a website about the princess.

                                                           -🌸-

The final bell rang as several of the students cheered. One school day until the trip over, three more to go. Alya swung her bag over her shoulder and bumped Marinette’s elbow. “We goin’ to your place to hang out?”

“Yeah, my dad’s out anyways and mom closed the bakery for the afternoon. let’s go!“ Alya took Nino’s hand and walked the short distance to Marinette’s house. They entered and immediately felt something off.

Ah, there it was.

Sabine was leaning over the counter with a cup of very strong-smelling peppermint tea beside her. She was rubbing her temples and muttering to herself in rapid Mandarin.

“Maman? Are you alright?“ Marinette asked worriedly. Alya and Nino stood by the door–they had only seen her like this once before, when her cousin had been run over and killed.

“Yes, dear, everything’s okay, it’s just–there’s something I need to tell you.“

“Oh, no, did something happen to someone?“

“No, no, everyone’s just fine. I can’t not tell you without there being serious problems.“

“So what is it? What’s so important you had to close the bakery?“

“You’re the princess. China’s princess. The one nobody knows about.“

“I’m what?!“ Marinette screeched, grabbing at her hair. “I’m the heir to the throne of the most populated country in the world, and you waited until a week before the coronation to tell me?!“

“Holy shit.“ Alya and Nino said simultaneously. Sabine stared at them, likely just realizing they were there.

“Oh. They know now, too. Perfect, that’s just what we need, a reporter knowing who–“

“Maman! Alya wouldn’t tell a soul, I know she wouldn’t.“

Sabine turned to Alya. “I’m sorry, dear, I’m just stressed. With that trip to China in a few days and all that, we’ll have to close down the bakery for about a week.”

“And we never close down the bakery.“ Marinette finished, putting a steady hand on her mom’s shoulder. “But I know just the person to run it while we’re gone.“

As she was about to say who exactly would run the bakery, Nino backed into the door, wide-eyed.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. My best friend…holy shit.“

“Nino, I know this is a lot, but we’ll have to stay calm,“ Alya said, grabbing his hand. “So we don’t spill her secret. That’s top priority, all right? Don’t–tell–anyone.“

Nino sighed. “Sorry, babe. This…“ he turned to Marinette. “Do you have any cookies?“

Marinette grinned and led them into the kitchen. “Of course! Chocolate chunk or raspberry frosted?“

“Raspberry, all the way!“

“There’s the Nino I know!“

After a quick cookie interval, Marinette pushed her plate away and sighed. “Anyone up for an impromptu sleepover? You all left a bunch of your clothes here the last few times.”

“Marinette. If you know us, you will know our answers.“ Alya said solemnly.

“Hell yeah. Wanna go choose which terrible rom-com to watch this time?“

They ended up settling on The Kissing Booth, one of Marinette’s personal favorites (”To lighten the tension, you know?” Alya had said. “Although the tension in here probably weighs the same as an obese hippopotamus at this point.”) and made a bowl of caramel popcorn, with a tiny bag of sea-salt Skinny Pop for Nino.

“Sugar on popcorn is a crime, man. I ain’t touching that.“

“You’ve tried it once, Nino.“

“Yes, and I hated it. Is there anything else to be said?“

So they spent the next two hours in a blanket fort that was made almost entirely of throw pillows laughing over Elle and Noah and Lee being idiots, with a few highlights such as the iconic “Ninth grade skirt, eleventh grade body” scene, where Alya snorted and said “You know, Lila’s skipped so much school, might as well be ninth grade brain, eleventh grade work.”

“Too true,“ Nino agreed. “The other day, she called Chloe’s mom Aurora Bourgeois. That was a pretty major mess-up.”

“Shhh! Let’s just watch the movie!“ Marinette said, effectively quieting them down.

They watched the rest in silence with the usual laughs., ending up falling asleep halfway through the second movie, snuggled up on their respective couches. Marinette mother shook them awake the next morning, telling them to take showers and eat breakfast and get dressed and for god’s sake, Marinette, finish your homework.

“Crap, crap, crapcrapcrap! Nino, we’re going to be late if we don’t get ready fast!“ Alya shouted as Marinette ran up the stairs to change. “Can I use your shower, M?“

“Sure!“ was the muffled reply.

After about 10 minutes of running around and shoving waffles in their mouths, they grabbed their bags and ran off to school.

They burst through the door in the nick of time, the bell ringing just as they plunked down their things.

Bustier wasn’t there five minutes into the class, so they started talking.

“Marinette, you have to listen to Nino’s latest track, it’s–“ Just as she was about to describe Nino’s latest track, a bouncy-ball the size of a walrus snashed through the wall, nearly taking off Kim’s head.

There was a cackle from outside. “I am Gradack! You will all feel the same sorrow that I did!“

                                                          -🌸-

The fight was over relatively fast, and everything was calmed down and restored before their next class. Turns out Chat Noir didn’t show, so Marinette had to ask Alya for assistance.

In hindsight, she probably should have picked a better place to transform.

“Tikki, spots on!“ After she transformed, she was about to go to Fu to get one of the Miraculous, when she heard a strangled gasp.

“…shit.“

“My best friend is the princess of goddamn China and Ladybug? What the fuck?! Who are you? How did I not know? When did–“

“Alya, I know the feeling, but you can’t tell anyone. Got it?“

“Nino?“

“Well,“ Marinette paused to think. “Yeah, I guess. I trust him enough. Now, take this and transform!“ she tossed Alya the hexagonal box, and after a quick transformation, they ran off to defeat the saddened graduate of an akuma.

As she said, it was an easy fight.

They comforted the victim with four minutes (each) to spare, then ran back to the locker rooms to transform back.

                                                   Time Skip!

It was the morning of the flight to China, and she was ecstatic. Of course, she had to get up at 3:45 in the morning, but it was worth it–the flight took off at six in the morning, of course.

She could see the logic of wanting to arrive at 12:00, but she would’ve much preferred a red-eye.

Then she wouldn’t have had to stay up all night reading, because no way in hell would she just wake up at 3:45 in the morning.

The alarm would’ve had to go off for hours.

But back to the morning, she poured herself a sasquatch-sized mug of coffee, with about a gallon of cream and enough sugar to put an entire city of diabetics into shock, she started getting dressed.

Trudging around and haphazardly pulling out shirts, she finally decided on a simple red-and-orange flannel, a white t-shirt, and a pair of cropped jeans.

The she downed the rest of her coffee with an apathetic “Bottoms up!” and slapped her cheeks.

She grapped her suitcase and walked outside to where her mother was typing away on a laptop in the pitch-black night.

“Mom, why are you up?“

“Because I have to drive you to the airport, that’s why. And no alarm would be able to wake me up at 3 in the morning.“

“Preach. I’m ready to go, so can we get in the car now?“

After driving to the airport and saying goodbye to her mom, she walked into the airport and immediately saw the group of sleepy teens (and a certain disheveled teacher) leaning on their suitcases, trying not to fall asleep.

Nino and Marinette were already there, their eyelids drooping. The only person who looked properly awake was Sabrina, who was–inevitably–holding a saucer out to Chloé, who was sipping from a teacup.

Alya rolled her eyes and walked over to Marinette and Nino. “Who’re we missing?”

“Kim and Rose. They’re carpooling, so they should be here any minute.“

Just as Marinette had said, a few seconds later, Rose and Kim walked into the airport. Kim was still wearing pajama pants.

                                           Another Time Skip!

“Marinette.“ Alya groaned, shaking Marinette’s shoulders. “Marinette, wake up, we’re here.“

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open. “No. Five more minutes.”

“Everyone else is already off the plane!“

“Shit. Let’s go!“ Marinette said, jumping up, grabbing her purse (which she had recently learned concealed a kwami) and scrambling out the door.

Alya picked up the mini-backpack she now carried (which held Trixx, cookies, and some grape jelly) and followed her out the door.

Almost as soon as they stepped off the plane, they heard a loud wail.

“Great. She’s back on her bullshit.“

“I just can’t believe she would steal that, Lila! It’s so unlike her!“

“M-maybe, but there’s p-proof! Look!“

“Oh, great, what did we do this time?“ Alya asked exasperatedly. They watched as Lila held out the remains of–from what they could see from a meter away–a sketch of an orange mermaid gown with a black lace collar, ripped into quarters and laid out on the ground.

Marinette gasped beside her.

“That’s your dress, isn’t it?“

A small tear made its way down Marinette’s face. “It was going to be for you,” she said softly.

Alya threw her arms around Marinette and rubbed her shoulders. “It’s okay, sweetie. Once you’re princess, we’ll sue her for all she’s worth.”

Marinette detached herself from Alya and wiped her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Alya.”

                                                         -🌸-

Nino stormed up to where Alya and Marinette were standing with a furious expression on his face.

“That fox,“ he seethed. “that bitchy little fox of a liar stole your drawing.“

Marinette chuckled wetly. “Yeah, we know.“

“Are you okay? I know how important they are to you.“

“I’m fine, Nino, and o–who the hell are you?“ A man in an oddly formal suit was standing next to her, holding out a small red envelope.

Marinette plucked the envelope from his fingers, opened it, and read the contents. She looked up and nodded at the suit-wearing guy.

“Good. In that case, Miss Dupain-Cheng, I’m going to need you to come with me.“ Alya and Nino immediately stepped in front of her in a protective shield.

“She’s not in trouble, is she?“

The strange man looked surprisingly amused. “Not at all–but you might want to come with us, too. You as well, headphone-boy.”

Nino put a hand on his chest and gasped in offense.

“Nino. He’s going to drive us to the palace. You’re coming, too, ya doof!“ Nino made a noise of realization and followed them out to where a black limousine was waiting.

They climbed in and drove off.

About five minutes into the drive, he moved his foot to the side, accidentally kicking a black box.

Just as he was preparing his final goodbyes, it sprung open, and inside was a junk food lover’s heaven.

“Dude.“

[emospritelet]

Heatstroke - chapter 20

Last time, Gold and Lacey danced :)

Words: 2,331

[AO3]

-

The music kept playing. The Nolans breezed past them, moving in step with each other as though they’d been dance partners all their lives. David Nolan winked at Gold again, and Lacey bit her lip to hide a grin at the long-suffering expression it caused. She was beginning to feel more relaxed, which considering she was pressed up against the man she had a crush on was something of an achievement in her mind. Gold’s grip was firm on her waist, his hand warm in hers.

“What made you want to be a journalist?” he asked, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Guess I’m a nosy bitch.”

Gold burst out laughing, head rolling back and she felt a lurch in her belly.

“People are interesting,” she said then. “Their lives, why they do what they do. I mean there’s unearthing scandals and exposing corrupt public figures, and that’s all good, but sometimes it’s nice to just document humans doing human stuff, you know?”

He pursed his lips, nodding slowly.

“I think I understand that,” he said. “What do you do when you’re not working?”

Lacey pulled a face.

“I probably spend way too much time drinking in bars,” she said. “But I guess you’re only young once, right?”

“I vaguely remember,” he said, in a very dry tone, and she clicked her tongue.

“Come on, you’re not old.”

“Tell that to my aching bones.”

Lacey stepped back immediately, looking him over.

“Oh, are you hurting?” she asked anxiously. “We can sit down, if you want.”

Gold shook his head, pulling her close again.

“I’m joking,” he said, turning her in a slow circle. “A little, anyway. I’m in no more pain than usual.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They fell silent for a moment, and Lacey smiled as she saw Astrid and Leroy waltz past. Leroy, it turned out, was a surprisingly good dancer.

“How did you injure your leg?” she asked, and Gold looked surprised.

“You don’t want to save that deeply personal question for Sunday?”

“Thought about it,” she confessed. “But it seemed appropriate to ask now.”

He nodded, his gaze somewhere over her shoulder, as though he was wondering whether to answer.

“I’m afraid it’s nothing remotely newsworthy,” he said. “Merely a motorcycle, an icy road, and bad luck. Or good luck, depending on your point of view. I suppose I was fortunate that a ruined ankle was the worst I had to suffer. Physically, anyway.”

That comment made her curiosity grow, but she filed it away for the moment.

“Besides,” he added. “We were talking about you. Other than drinking with Miss Lucas, what are your interests?”

“You expecting me to admit to book-binding or basket-weaving, or something?”

Gold showed his teeth.

“I find I never know what to expect with you, Miss French.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint,” she said. “I work, I drink, I eat and I read. Pretty much it.”

“I’m almost certain that’s not true.”

“How did we get fixated on me, anyway?” she demanded. “How about you answer a few questions?”

A tiny grin twisted his mouth.

“I agreed to,” he said, his eyes glinting. “On Sunday. Tonight I want to hear about you.”

Lacey let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, I run,” she said, and grinned at him. “The scenery around this town can be very interesting at times, you know?”

Gold gave her a very level look, as though unsure whether she was teasing him or not.

“I’m even worse a runner than I am a dancer,” he said, and she chuckled.

“You’re doing fine, but I take your point. I guess yoga might be more your thing. That’s another thing I like to do. Part of my morning routine.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you,” he said, and closed his eyes, looking pained. “I - I don’t mean I’ve been watching you, I’ve just - seen you in the garden, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I like it out in the open air,” she said. “I’ve even done it in the rain.”

A tiny grin appeared on his face, and his eyebrows flicked upwards.

“Sounds - invigorating,” he remarked.

“You can always come over and join in, if you like,” she suggested.

“Me?”

“Sure, why not?”

Gold looked down very pointedly before meeting her eyes again.

“Because I’m possibly the least flexible person in Storybrooke.”

“Then you’re the one that needs it the most,” she countered, and swatted his shoulder with her free hand, making him blink in surprise. “Come on! It would be good for you! The more you do it, the better it gets.”

Gold’s eyebrows twitched, and that twisted little smile appeared again.

“True of so many things in life, I find,” he murmured, and Lacey smirked.

“Practice makes perfect.”

“Indeed it does.”

His voice had gone low and throaty, his grip tightening a little, and she could feel her heart thump, her breath quickening a little. She licked her lips, her eyes on his mouth. He was almost close enough to kiss.

“Oh, Mr Gold, there you are!”

A familiar and unwelcome voice cut through the tension between them, and Gold jerked his head upwards, mouth flattening. Lacey wanted to growl as Zelena West strode up to them, in a long green strapless dress with a thigh split, white teeth bared in a grin. Gold’s face had taken on an oddly closed expression, his eyes losing their light.

“I’m so delighted you could make it!” went on Zelena. “And dancing with Miss French! I always knew you were a charitable person!”

She smirked as she said it, which made Lacey bristle, before turning her attention back to Gold.

“I certainly hope you don’t intend to make this your last dance,” she said. “The night’s young, after all. Perhaps I can tempt you later.”

“I think one dance is really my limit,” said Gold coolly. “Thank you for your effusive welcome, Miss West. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Miss French and I were having a private conversation.”

Zelena let out a tinkling little laugh that made Lacey want to throw something over her.

“Ooh, be careful!” she said, in a sing-song voice. “Miss French might seem as though she’s just making conversation, and the next thing she’ll be poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong and getting you to confess to all manner of things.”

“That would suggest she’s very good at her job,” said Gold, as Lacey opened her mouth indignantly. “However, other than attempting to school me on the merits of yoga, she’s been going easy on me. I detect no burning desire to get me to spill my darkest secrets this evening.”

“Wait for Sunday,” muttered Lacey, and his mouth twitched as though he was trying not to grin. Zelena rolled her eyes.

“Well, I insist on speaking to you later,” she said. “I doubt Miss French can hold your attention for long.”

She sauntered off, leaving Lacey staring after her in outrage.

“Miss West appears not to care for you too much,” said Gold mildly.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

Lacey was still scowling after her, but his hand was warm on her waist as he pulled her back towards him. She caught the scent of his cologne, feeling his fingers splay out across the small of her back and then slide together as he tugged her close.

“She’s a woman of poor taste,” he murmured.

His body was very warm, and Lacey was feeling a little breathless. She licked her lips.

“She seems to like you well enough,” she said, and he chuckled deeply.

“That only proves my point.”

The music slowed to a stop, and for a moment they stood there in silence before Gold smiled a little awkwardly and stepped back, releasing her.

“See?” she said. “You can dance.”

“With you to hold me up, perhaps.”

“Details, details…”

Gold grinned at that, and Lacey felt her heart clench again. The music started up, a livelier tune, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You want to go again?”

“I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead,” he said, in a dry tone. “Drink?”

“Please.” She grinned at him. “I can see David and Mary Margaret are calling it quits, too. I think I’ll go get to know them a little better.”

Gold gave her a slanted grin and bowed his head before turning on his heel and heading in the direction of one of the wait staff. Lacey watched him go, fully aware that she probably had, in Ruby’s words, ‘big pulsing cartoon hearts’ in her eyes.

-

The evening continued to go well. David and Mary Margaret were every bit as nice as they had seemed, and David seemed to be the only person in Storybrooke that Gold didn’t mind being teased by, however gentle the teasing might have been. Lacey was reluctant to pull herself away from Gold, but she was technically working, so she made sure to talk to plenty of other guests. She caught his eye on her a few times, and he glanced away whenever she turned to face him, causing David to nudge him with a grin and say something that made Gold close his eyes and sigh. It made Lacey bite back her own grin, and she wandered back over to watch the prize draw with Gold and the Nolans. The champagne was going to her head.

Once the prize draw was done—the top prize of a three-course dinner with champagne being won by Leroy—Zelena walked onto the stage to take the microphone as the applause was dying down. Beside her, Lacey felt Gold stiffen, as though he was apprehensive. As though he was waiting for something. She recalled Sidney saying that he thought the evening was about more than charity work, and across the room she saw him watching Zelena intently. Zelena bared her teeth in a wide smile, flicking back her reddish curls.

“Thank you all for coming and for making this event the incredible success it’s been,” she said, her voice carrying. “I think we can all agree that the food has been first class, so thanks to Granny’s Diner for providing it.”

Applause rang around the room, and Lacey joined in.

“Tonight’s event has been the work of months,” Zelena went on, “but seeing the smiles on all your faces and knowing that all the money raised tonight is going to such a good cause - well, it just fills my heart with joy!”

Mary Margaret shared a smile with David, and Lacey eyed Gold, who was staring at the stage with narrow-eyed suspicion.

“I have to confess,” said Zelena, “that I have another reason to speak to you tonight.”

Gold made a tiny noise in the back of his throat, as though he was confirming something to himself. Lacey found her curiosity growing, and edged closer to him. Zelena had begun to pace slowly back and forth across the stage.

“Storybrooke has opened its heart to me ever since I came here,” she went on. “We’re a close community. A community based on good old-fashioned values. Friendship, and family. Neighbourliness. I can’t tell you what a relief it was to move here from New York and find a town so - so steeped in wonderful local traditions. So eager to welcome a stranger who felt that she had lost her way.”

She bowed her head a little, as though overcome by emotion. Lacey snorted quietly, but flattened her mouth as Zelena looked up again.

“You see, I’ve always wanted a life of service, a life of - of giving,” she said. “It’s why I’ve done so much for charities in the past. It’s why I’ve been organising these events since I came to Storybrooke. And yet - I feel that I could give more.”

She paused, shaking back her hair as she gazed around the room.

“I like to think that in my own, small way, I’ve helped this town through difficult times,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart with a self-deprecating smile. “And that’s why, after much soul-searching, I’ve made the decision to try to serve the town I’ve come to love so dearly in the best way I can.”

Another pause. Lacey had to admit that she had a talent for holding an audience’s attention. Zelena smiled, eyes widening with a hopeful expression.

“I have decided,” she said. “To run for Mayor of Storybrooke.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the audience, and a scattering of applause that rippled around the room. Lacey glanced at Gold, whose eyes had narrowed further, his mouth set in a grim line. Her eyes flicked to Regina Mills, who was looking shocked, lips parted and eyes wide. Her wife grasped her hand, leaning to whisper something in her ear, and Regina started before nodding and whispering something in return.

“I trust that I can count on the support of the many friends I’ve made since this town opened its heart to me,” said Zelena, in honeyed tones. “I have every faith that Storybrooke will prove to me once again that wishing for something hard enough can make dreams come true.”

She seemed to glance in Regina’s direction, but then smiled broadly.

“Thank you all,” she said. “Enjoy the rest of the night!”

More applause, and Zelena sauntered off stage as the music started up again.

“Well,” said Mary Margaret. “That’s - unexpected.”

“What’s the deal with the Mayoral elections?” asked Lacey.

“Regina’s run unopposed for the past few years at least,” said David.

“No one else wanted the job?”

“Pretty much.”

“Regina’s been Mayor as long as I can remember,” said Mary Margaret, looking puzzled. “Surely no one’s going to vote for Zelena over her?”

“Depends what she’s offering,” said Gold, in a grim tone. “Or what she can use to bring Regina down.”

He said that last in an undertone, and glanced at Lacey as he did so. She could feel curiosity surge in her. His eyes flicked away almost immediately, but she nodded to herself. He knows something. And I’m gonna find out what.

[ecto-american]

Prom Season

Phic Phight Oneshot for Rikaleeta and ghostgothgeek: As Prom draws nearer, Danny finds that he has competition in asking Sam to prom. Danny/Sam

Read on AO3 and FFN

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"Dude, you're staring again," Tucker nudged him. Danny blinked, snapping out of his daze, and he stood up straight, tapping his fingers anxiously on the counter.

"Sorry, dude, it's just. What the hell would Dale want with Sam?" he scowled.

The jock was standing near Sam, the two chatting idly by Sam's favorite part of the comics store, the vinyl section. Sam was smiling, nodding and agreeing with whatever Dale was talking to her about.

"Dale's been eying Valerie lately, maybe he's asking Sam about her?" Tucker suggested. He smiled politely at a customer who came into his line, promptly beginning to check them out. "Even so, why do you care? Sammy's a big girl."

"Prom season's coming up, somebody might ask her," Danny argued lightly.

"And why's that matter?" Tucker asked. In no time at all, the customer had paid and left, and the two were left standing in the mostly empty comics store.

"Dude, you know guys!" Danny grumbled, throwing his hands up as if it was obvious. "They only want one thing, especially after prom! You should know. Don't you and Star plan on finally doing it after prom?"

"Probably, but mostly because we've already been doing it," Tucker shrugged. Danny choked on nothing.

"Wait, what? How come you didn't tell me!?" Danny asked. Tucker opened his mouth to reply, only to jerk his head to Sam.

Dale had left the store seemingly, and Sam was already at the counter, clutching a new vinyl. Danny chuckled.

"This is why we can't visit Tucker at work, you'll always end up with something," he teased her. She rolled her eyes.

"But Tucker works here now, so he'll be sweet and let me use his employee discount?" she half-asked hopefully, staring at Tucker with a bright smile. He sighed, and he entered his employee discount code as he rang her up. "Thank you!"

"Anytime," he assured her. He handed her her bag. "So did Dale ask you to prom?" Sam snorted in amusement.

"Oh hell no," she replied. "He wanted to know if anybody had asked Valerie, and if I thought his plan to ask her would go over well."

Tucker sent Danny a sideways "I told you so" smirk, and Danny made an annoyed grumble.

"Either way, you ready to drag me to Hot Topic?" Danny asked.

"Only every day," Sam said. She turned to Tucker. "You close tonight, right? Do you want us to swing by and take you home?" Tucker shook his head no.

"Nah, it's okay!" he assured her. "I have my uncle's old car now, remember?" Sam lit up a bit.

"Oh yeah! Well, just drive careful!"

Tucker waved her off with a grin.

"Don't worry about me. You two lovebirds have fun," he teased. "But not too much fun."

Danny could feel his cheeks burn. A glance at Sam, and he could see her own face flushing some. However, she rolled her eyes and jokingly flipped Tucker off, getting one in response as they walked out and into the mall.

"Do you want me to carry your bag?" Danny offered, holding his hand out.

"Sure!" Sam agreed, and she handed it over. "Have you thought about the piercing? I'll buy you one if you're going for it."

"Eh, I'm still trying to figure out how badly my mom would flip if she saw that I got my nose pierced, and if it'd be worth it lecture," Danny shrugged.

"You should totally do it, then deflect it by coming out as Danny Phantom," she joked. Danny snorted. "Come on, we could match!" Sam had gotten her left nostril pierced almost a year ago, currently occupied by a tiny black skull, as well as four total piercings per ear. As expected, her mom nearly lost it over the nose charm. She poked his nose. "You could get a little white ghost charm." He couldn't help but smile.

"Now you're tempting me to risk it," he admitted.

He gestured to the Hot Topic, and Sam went inside first, him right behind her. She went right for the piercings display, looking. After a moment, she tapped on the case, looking over her shoulder for Danny.

"See? Right there, you could get that cute little silver ghost," she told him. Danny peeked over her shoulder. She pointed at another charm, one in the shape of a laptop. "Oh! And Tucker could get that one! We could all kinda match!"

"Pretty sure Tucker's mom would actually kill him if he came home with another piercing," Danny replied. Sam had already convinced Tucker of getting his ears pierced, and his mom was Very Unhappy about it. "Just like my mom would kill me if I came home with a nose piercing."

"You're already half dead though," Sam pointed out. Danny gave a half shrug and smile.

"Got me there. Alright, I'll get it," he said. Sam grinned widely, going to the counter to immediately ask for an employee to retrieve it.

They only browsed a bit more before they finally left. No sooner were they out the door…

"Sam!" a familiar voice called out excitedly. The not-lovebirds glanced over to see Paulina and Elliot coming up to them, Paulina a few steps ahead as she excitedly half-jogged over to Sam. Elliot was carrying two Starbucks cups, taking his time following. Paulina threw her arms around Sam, hugging her tightly, the goth only giving a half smile and lightly patting her back. "If I knew you were coming to the mall, I would have invited you to get your nails done with us! Look, Elliot and I match!"

Paulina pulled away to show off white nails with pink details.

"Oh they look nice!" Sam complimented. "It's okay though. Coming today was kinda a last minute thing." Or rather, they decided to hang out here after catching the Box Ghost, who was making himself home in one of the new stores that hadn't quite opened yet.

"You got me Starbucks?" Danny joked as Elliot finally came close enough to properly hear him. Elliot rolled his eyes. "How sweet."

"If you wanna give me the four dollars it costs, sure," he joked back. He handed Paulina the clear pink drink, and she took a long sip from it. Danny noticed that he did kinda match her, with black nails and matching details, only in a pastel blue.

"What are you guys up to?" Paulina asked. "We were just about to see if Macy's had any cute prom dresses out yet." The mentioning of prom made Danny's stomach feel a bit weirdly queasy.

"We're gonna go get Danny's nose pierced!" Sam replied, pointing to his nose. Danny snapped out of the feeling.

"Wait, what? We're doing that today?" he asked. Sam grinned.

"You're eighteen, they'll let you!" she replied. She reached into the Hot Topic bag to pull out the piercing. "I gotta make you put it on before you change your mind." Oh, a bit too late already.

"Ooh, that's a lot more interesting than prom dresses!" Elliot mused. "I can drive us." He put his free hand to his ear. "I've been thinking about getting another piercing anyway." Paulina hummed thoughtfully.

"Spike should be working today, so I might see if he has my new tattoo design ready," Sam mused.

Another thing that her mom, if she were to ever find out, would flip out over. Sam already had two that her family were oblivious to. Danny knew that she had a spider on a web on her ribcage; he had held her hand while she got that one done (and nearly ended up with a broken hand). The other was a black and deep purple rose and vine on her thigh, which he had only seen right after she had gotten it. Jazz, out of everybody, had gone with her to get it, and even came back with a tattoo herself. Though Jazz, like a nerd, had opted for a book tattoo. Danny had never seen it before outside of the photo Jazz took of it, but knew that it was on her ribcage and something Spike gave her as an anniversary present.

"I guess that settles it!" Elliot grinned. "Let's go to the tattoo and piercing shop!"

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After somehow surviving Elliot's crappy little car, only somewhat affectionately called "the shitbox", they were huddled in the waiting room area of the shop. Paulina, already filling out the usual safety and health and consent forms, was standing and staring at the wall of previous art done.

"You gonna get a tattoo instead?" Elliot teased her as he handed the receptionist his own filled paperwork. Paulina shot him a smile, but still slapped his shoulder.

"Papa would kill me," she insisted.

"So? Get it where nobody will see," Elliot replied. Paulina playfully slapped him again.

Danny rolled his eyes, continuing to fill out his form as he drafted all the excuses he'd have to give his mom when she inevitably chewed his ass out when he got home. Whelp, he was already bound to be grounded sooner or later cause of the ghosts. Might as well spice up the grounding reasoning once in a while.

Sam appeared from the back, clutching a piece of paper up. Spike was behind her. Sam made a beeline for Danny.

"Dude, look at how nice it is!" she told him, holding it out for him to see. Danny glanced up. It was a skull with flowers growing out of it.

"Oh, that's sick," he commented.

"I know, right?" Sam grinned. Danny smiled, returning his attention to the paperwork.

"So you wanna get that this Saturday?" Spike spoke up.

"Uh, Danny are you free Saturday?" Sam asked. Danny glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow.

"After today I'll probably be grounded," he joked, signing his name for the last time on the forms. Sam chuckled.

"True," she replied. "Hmm, ah whatever. I can tough it out." Danny quickly looked up again as it suddenly hit him why he needed to be free. Sam had already turned to Spike. "Yeah, let's go for Saturday."

"Oh, if you want somebody around, I can come," Elliot popped up.

"That'd be awesome!" Sam grinned. "This one's going on my back, so it's supposed to hurt."

"Well, you can break my hand, I don't care," Elliot assured her. Danny's chest squeezed a bit as he felt a hot flash hit him.

"No it's okay, I can just sneak out!" he said immediately. Sam glanced at him.

"Nah, it's okay. I don't wanna get you into anymore trouble," she assured him.

"I don't care," Danny quickly blurted out. Spike chuckled.

"Man, Mrs. Fenton's scary when she's pissed, your best bet is to just obey her," Spike told him. He nodded at Danny. "Did Jazz tell you about how she nearly got into a fistfight at the bridal shop a few days ago?"

"No?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"Basically when Jazz went in for her dress fitting, she had apparently gained a little bit of stress weight since the last fitting, cause she's been driving herself insane over grad school applications," Spike explained. Danny nodded understandingly. "and the lady fitting her dress kind of gushed over it cause she thought Jazz got pregnant. It made her cry, and man. Mrs. Fenton went off on her, and apparently nearly began throwing hands with the manager."

"Oh man, poor Jazz," Sam said somberly. Danny couldn't agree more as he gave a low short whistle at the audacity. Between graduating early, grad school applications, and getting married, he had never seen Jazz look so stressed out. "Why don't you guys push the wedding back a bit?"

"She'll get more money from FASFA and scholarships, plus better housing, if we get married sooner, and she doesn't wanna just elope and have a party later," Spike shook his head a bit. "But uh, either way though, I got some numbing cream for ya Sam if you're worried about pain." Spike shot Danny a reassuring smile and a wink. He felt a little better. Sam sighed with relief.

"Please," she confessed. "It's not too bad when Danny's here, but if I'm alone I know I'm going to get a little anxious."

"Aw come on, I'm not reassuring?" Elliot teased. To Danny's relief, Sam also playfully slapped Elliot on his shoulder.

"Are you kidding me? You'd probably actually ruin my tattoo by making me laugh the entire time," she told him. Danny's heart squeezed again, and he got up to silently hand the receptionist the forms.

"I think I might get a tattoo," Paulina finally spoke up. Elliot's interest was immediately piqued.

"Oh?" he asked. Paulina nodded, pointing to a tattoo on the wall, a pretty collection of flowers.

"This is sooo pretty, I think I'd get something like this," she said. Sam glanced at it.

"That'd be like, what? Four hundred-ish dollars, Spike?" she guessed. Spike glanced at the reference photo and nodded.

"Yeah, give or take," he replied. Paulina made a face.

"Maybe one day in the future," she decided. "I need money for a prom dress." Sam waved a hand.

"Prom dresses are temporary, tattoos are forever!" she told her. Paulina made a noise of disinterest, and Sam shrugged.

"Danny, did you wanna go first?" the receptionist asked as she glanced at the three stacks of piercing requests.

Danny coughed a bit nervously. He glanced at Sam, and he nodded.

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"Thanks again, Spike!" Sam beamed. Spike smiled fondly at her, offering her a hug. She gladly accepted it.

"Anything for my favorite future sister-in-law," he teased. Sam's face instantly burned. Danny scoffed as he lightly touched his new piercing anxiously.

"Sam isn't related to us, dude," he told Spike. Spike gave him a weird look, then shook his head.

"You're lucky you know how to do math, man," he told him. "Also let me know if Mrs. Fenton kills you." Danny gave a nod.

"Don't worry, you'd be invited to the funeral," he joked. Spike chuckled. "Also I give you permission to tattoo my corpse before they put me down."

"Sick," Spike grinned. "I'll give you some of those lil blob ghosts the float around."

Elliot and Paulina were chatting a mile a minute outside the shop. When the not-lovebirds came out, Paulina immediately pushed her hair behind her ear to show off her new helix piercings. Danny could already see Elliot's singular orbital piercing.

"Look! I feel so punk!" Paulina gushed. Sam snorted in amusement.

"Girl, I'm gonna have to get you into a lot more black and leather before you're anywhere near punk," she teased. Paulina giggled.

"Maybe some leather pants," she mused. She shrugged. "Anywho! Elliot and I were gonna go look at the prom dresses! Wanna tag along?"

"Yeah, sounds fun!" Danny agreed.

"Yeah! I still need to get mine," Sam agreed. "I really want your opinion on a dress anyway," she said to Paulina. "Cause you know I'm going to customize mine no matter what I get."

"Yeah, I might ask you to do the same to mine, like help me tailor something if needed," Paulina mused. "I need my dress to be absolutely perfect. But we need to make another Starbucks run."

"Really?" Elliot raised an eyebrow at her. "Boo, this is your third trip today." Paulina pouted cutely at him. He playfully chuckled. "Alright, alright. I kinda want another iced coffee anyway."

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"So, has Elliot talked to you about it yet?" Paulina asked, taking a long sip of her drink as they waited near the door to the popular coffee chain. Danny made a confused "hm?" noise as he took a sip of his own. "That he wanted to ask Sam to prom?"

Danny's heart stopped, and he instantly returned his attention back to the pair of goths. They were customizing their Starbucks drink at the counter, smiling happily and chatting casually about something he couldn't heart.

God, of course! Fuck, he was so focused on every other dude that he forgot that Elliot wasn't gay. God damn it, and Sam would potentially actually say yes to him too.

"Uh. Um. I-uh." Danny coughed into his elbow as he tried to think of some way to respond that sounded normal. "No, he, um. Hasn't said anything to me yet." Nice response, Fenton.

"Oh, well, be prepared I guess," Paulina replied, taking a sip of her fancy-looking pink drink in the clear plastic cup.

Danny took a huge gulp of his coffee as he tried to process it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He needed to think of how to reply to Elliot if the guy were to actually confront him or talk to him about it. His gut twisted. How was he supposed to reply? Elliot didn't deserve to go out with his Sam. What the fuck was that moron thinking? They were just friends.

"You guys ready?" Elliot glanced over his shoulder at them.

"Yup!" Paulina chirped. Elliot walked over with them, Sam quickly behind.

"You got your hourly Starbucks?" Elliot teased her.

"Mhm!" she hummed.

"You almost need to start working at Starbucks," Elliot told her.

"But then I'd just spend the whole paycheck on Starbucks," Paulina playfully protested.

"Fair, fair," Elliot hummed.

They exited, and they all piled into Elliot's car. Danny and Sam in the back, Paulina in her normal position in the passenger's seat.

"Do you know what kind of dress you're looking for?" Paulina asked as Elliot pulled out of the parking lot. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, definitely something black or purple," she said. "I'm really into long dresses lately, so probably a long dress, but I dunno! Short dresses are cute too."

"Oh short dresses are sooo in right now," Paulina agreed. "I want a short dress! Definitely pink, I want a really cute pastel pink maybe? But any shade of pink, I think it looks best on me."

"Hmm, yeah but greens look really good on you too," Elliot spoke up. "Like pastel and light greens?"

"They do but it's prom so I really want something pink," Paulina replied.

"Hmm, I think I look good in purple and black," Sam mused. "What do I look good in Danny?"

"Purple, black, red, and green, but like? An ecto green if that makes sense?" Danny said. Sam thought about it.

"Yeah, I really do like ecto green," she agreed. She shot him a sly smile. "Reminds me of Danny Phantom. And well. Ya know. I think he's really cute." Danny flushed, shyly smiling back.

"Ugh he's sooo cute," Paulina gushed. "His eyes are the most beautiful shade of green I've ever seen. Elliot, why are your eyes so dark." Elliot chuckled.

"Cause both of my parents have dark green eyes," he replied. Paulina huffed.

"I think that was rude of you. You should have bright green eyes like the ghost boy," she said.

"Yeah, it's pretty rude," Elliot agreed. "I'll fix that tomorrow."

"Do you actually think Danny Phantom's cute?" Danny asked Sam. She smiled, giving a half-shrug.

"Absolutely one of the cutest guys I've ever seen," she confirmed.

Danny took a long drink of his coffee, hoping that chugging some of it would help explain why his cheeks were beginning to burn.

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"Oh, this is sooo your color!"

"Oh my god! I love it! Do they have it in my size?"

"Hmm, um, lemme see...yeah! They do! Here!"

"Ugh I cannot wait to try it on! Oh! Oh look! Look at these sleeves, it's like a princess dress! I'm going to grab one to try it on."

"Ooo, that's going to look so good on you. Hm, I think I might try on that one too, cause it comes in dark purple and those sleeves kinda look witchy...Danny what do you think?"

Danny snapped out of his zoning out to look at Sam. The goth was holding up a short dress with long, flowy sleeves. It was a mid-dark purple and plain, though he had no doubt that Sam would likely customize it to her liking. She did that a lot with clothes.

"Yeah, looks good," he said neutrally.

"Oh, that'll look so good with your bat heels!" Elliot pipped up. Danny nearly forgot that the dude was sitting with him on what was dubbed the boyfriend bench near the dressing rooms. "Especially if you wear a corset over the midsection. Like if you found a purple version of that red one you have, with the black lace over it."

"Oo, that would potentially look so cute," Sam mused. She put the dress over her arm on top of two others. "I'm gonna go try these on."

"Oh, I should too," Paulina mused. Unlike Sam, her arms were overflowing with four, five? Danny counted at least ten different potential dresses if he went by the different looking fabrics alone.

"Yeah, you need to narrow some down," Sam told her.

"They're all just so pretty!" Paulina complained. "I wanna wear them all!"

"Well, let's just eliminate some," she suggested.

The girls went off to the dressing room, and Danny leaned back against the boyfriend bench. He pulled his phone out, and he replied to a message from Tucker and another from his mom. Man, was he not ready to face her later.

"So, Sam huh."

Danny glanced at Elliot.

"Uh, yeah. She's great," Danny replied shortly.

"She is, she is," he agreed with a slight hum. Elliot shifted to rest his elbows on his knees. "Ya know I was thinking about asking her to prom." Danny felt a lump stick in his throat.

"Really?" was all he could think to reply.

"Yeah!" Elliot smiled. "I mean, yeah. I wasn't the best dudes four years ago, but I feel a lot better about myself, ya know? I think I finally know who I am now, and I still really like Sam. She's funny, smart, really pretty. Love hanging out with her. Kinda wondering if she feels the same, and if she'd be down to go with me. What do you think?"

Danny bit his tongue to avoid an unnecessarily harsh reply, but he did get anger. How dare he. After all the lies he told Sam, and the way he lied and manipulated her. Sam deserved better than that.

"I um. I don't think you should go for it," Danny said hesitantly. Elliot raised a curious eyebrow.

"Why, did she tell you something?" he asked. "Or did somebody else ask her?"

"Um. Well, not exactly," he hesitated. Danny bit his lower lip. "I mean, I know she likes you. As a friend!" he quickly added. "But uh, I dunno man. Just don't think it's a good idea."

"What do you mean, is somebody else going to ask her?" Elliot asked.

"Why does it matter?" Danny nearly snapped. "You asked me what I thought, and I said it."

Elliot snickered in amusement, rolling his eyes. It only served to irritate Danny even more. Foreign phony. God, why did they even hang out with Elliot? Paulina and Elliot made sense, cause they were both huge prep kids and did cheerleading and soccer respectively, making them both jocks. But why did he have to hang out with Elliot. Well, because Sam and Paulina were friends now, and that meant that Danny also had to be friends with Paulina's friends. Of fucking course.

"What's so funny?" he demanded to know.

"I think I get why," Elliot smirked.

"What do you mean?" Danny questioned. Elliot just shook his head. Danny opened his mouth to question again.

"Hey! Whatcha think?"

Danny shut his mouth as Paulina bounce out in her first dress option. It was a bright pink dress that came to her knees, the skirt incredibly puffy and reminding Danny of a ballerina tutu, with inch wide straps.

"Oh, it looks so good on you boo," Elliot cooed to her. Paulina beamed, twirreling. "But that may also just be you, you look fabulous in everything." Paulina put her hands over her chest.

"Thank you," she gushed. "Can you take my photo? I wanna compare all the dresses I wear."

"Of course," Elliot agreed, pulling his phone out. He snapped a photo of her.

"Oh Sam!" Paulina squealed.

Danny noticed the goth coming out in a fully black dress that also came only to her knees, with a much slimmer skirt and short sleeves. It looked fairly plain, but man. Sam still made it look great. Danny was glad he was sitting, because he knew he was weak kneed.

Sam was smiling brightly, giving Paulina a light wave.

"I take it you like it?" Sam questioned, doing a quick turn around.

"Girl you always look so good in black," Paulina praised.

"She's sooo right," Elliot agreed. "It just looks so good on you, no matter what. Just." Elliot made a chef kiss motion. Sam flushed a light pink, and Danny glared at him. Dude, shut up. "No wonder you're goth. You were just made for black."

"I dunno, I think you're exaggerating," she replied. Sam glanced down at her outfit. "I mean, it's fairly simple. What do you think, Danny?"

Danny swallowed hard.

"Oh uh, I think it looks great!" he said, smiling brightly. Sam returned it. "I mean like. It's kinda? Plain but I know you'd make it something great. You always do." Sam hummed.

"Mm yeah. It's pretty plain, but I dunno if I wanna put in the amount of work it'd take to make this dress really poppin'," she mused. "I'm gonna go try another one on."

The two girls went back to the dressing room, and Danny could hear their lighthearted conversation. Soon as they turned the corner, he spoke up.

"What do you mean?" Danny demanded to know. Elliot snorted.

"Bro, just admit that you like her, and that you don't want me to take her to prom," he said.

"Where on earth would you get that idea!?" Danny scowled. Elliot rolled his eyes.

"Dude, you've been crazy about her since like, what? Ninth grade at the earliest? Paulina says you two have been making googly eyes at each other since like third grade," he said. Danny felt his cheeks flush. It had not been since the third grade. Had it?

"It's not like that," he insisted. "I just, you know. Really love and worry about her, she's my best friend."

"Best friends don't get worked up like this, this much, over a mutual friend asking them out."

Danny just glared at Elliot before rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. He took a deep breath, exhaling hard.

"How's it look?" Sam's voice asked. Danny glanced up, and his heart just absolutely flipped.

She looked amazing. Beautiful. Stunning. Like a plant goddess, a model, an angel. He felt like there wasn't a flaw to be found, and he had never seen somebody look more enchanting. Her dress made her look even more divine, emphasising and showing off the best parts of her. The purple matching her eyes, the dress fitting her absolutely perfect as it flowed almost to the floor and the strapless feature making her hair flow smoothly over her shoulders. This dress was perfect for her.

But none of those descriptors came out. Instead all he could do is nervously swallow, tongue tied as he felt his cheeks burn up. He struggled to pick just one of those adjectives, and his brain settled for just saying nothing at all and simply staring at her instead.

"Oh, you just look so lovely!" Elliot spoke up. He stood up, going over to walk around her. "It fits you perfect, like it hugs your hips just right and really shows off your-"

"Pretty!" Danny suddenly half-yelled. The group looked at him oddly, and he felt his face flush harder. "It makes you look pretty!"

"Thank you," Sam replied, pausing a bit as she raised an eyebrow at him.

"...Uh, yeah. Um, yes!" Elliot clasped his hands together. "Just stunning. I love this purple on you, it's such a beautiful color. This dress specifically was made for you."

"Dude, chill," Danny grumbled. Sam gave him a Look, and he flinched.

"Danny, can I talk to you for a moment?" Sam asked through gritted teeth.

He had no opportunity to respond, as she grabbed his arm, painfully hard owwie, and began to drag him away, towards another boyfriend bench near a jewelry display counter and out of earshot.

"What's going on?" Sam demanded to know. She finally let go of his arm, and he huffed for a moment. Instead of responding, he put his hands behind his head, pacing back and forth. She quickly grew impatient. "Well? Say something!"

"Elliot wants to ask you to prom!" he blurted out, letting his hands fall. Sam blinked.

"He does?" she asked, sounding clearly surprised and...not angry. Sam smiled a little. "Really?"

"Oh don't tell me you're gonna actually take that foreign phony up on the offer!" Danny snapped. Sam instantly glared at him, crossing her arms.

"Elliot's our friend, dude," Sam reminded him. "Why do you care?"

"B-b-because!" Danny's arms were moving wildly as he talked. "He lied to you for months, and you're just going to ignore all that!"

"That was years ago, and he apologized," she said. "He's more than made up for it. And he's a super sweet guy. I like him."

"You like him!?" Danny nearly shouted. Sam slapped his upper shoulder with the back of her hand.

"Calm down and lower your voice," she told him. "And well, yeah. As a friend. Maybe I kinda like him more than that too."

"What the fuck, Sam!?" Danny, in fact, did not lower his voice. He dry-heaved for a few seconds, briefly making Sam start to watch him worriedly. Finally, he took a deep breath, and he returned to a normal inside voice. "What does he have that I don't?"

She went from worried to a blank stare.

"Apparently liking me enough to say or do something, especially when I've dropped so many hints or made moves myself," she replied. She brushed past him and left, returning to their friends.

Danny found himself taking a seat on the bench as he tried to collect his thoughts and the wide range of emotions that accompanied them. He put his head in his hands, rubbing his face. God he was so fucking stupid.

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"And it's just! Why him! Why Elliot?" Danny continued to vent after spilling the whole story. Jazz gave a small hum of acknowledgement as she finished writing another name out on the envelope. She set it aside for Danny. "I've liked Sam for so long, and I thought she liked me too."

"You're an idiot," Jazz immediately concluded. Danny glared at her as he folded another wedding invite, slipping it into an already addressed envelope before putting the sticker on the back to keep it sealed shut, and a stamp on the other side. Both were sitting on the floor of the apartment she shared with Spike, with each sibling on the opposite side of the coffee table, with Jazz resting her back against the couch and Danny sitting within reaching distance of their TV.

"Hey!" he protested. Jazz gave him a Look, grabbing another envelope.

"I mean it. She does like you, and she has for a while," she told him. She began to write out another address. "You just always never responded. You pushed her off in favor of another girl or because of some weird commitment issue that you seem to have going on. So be honest with me, and yourself. What's the problem?"

Danny silently folded two more invites, repeating the process of putting them in addressed envelopes and putting the sticker and stamp on.

"...I'm scared," he finally admitted.

"What of?" Jazz asked, not looking up from her activity. Danny had to really think. He casually tossed the finished wedding invite into the 'finished' basket.

"I guess just...it not working out. What if it doesn't work out? What if it drives us apart, and we lose each other?"

"You won't know that until you try," Jazz replied.

"She might also reject me, cause of the same mentality. What if she still likes Elliot more, and-"

"Danny," Jazz interrupted. She finally looked up from writing. "You will never know what the future will and won't hold. Just talk to her, and let her be part of the choice rather than blowing it all off due to fear."

He thought about it, and he gave a small sigh.

"Yeah...I think she's kinda pissed that I haven't been letting her be part of the choice anyway," he mused. He glanced at the pile of envelopes next to her. "How many invites do you have left?"

Jazz checked her list.

"Least a hundred more to go," she sighed.

"What the fuck, you have like no friends! Who are these people!?" Danny cried out. Jazz glared at him, reaching behind her to grab a pillow to hit him with.

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Knock knock knock.

Danny floated awkwardly outside of her window. She didn't answer, but he could tell that she was there. Her light was clearly on, and he could hear her music playing.

Knock knock knock.

"Sam?" he called out. "Sam, can we please talk?" He knocked some more.

The longest minute of his life passed before he heard the music turn off. The curtains opened, and Sam was on the other side, staring incredibly annoyed at him. She gestured for him to come inside, and he did. His feet landed on the floor, and she reshut the curtains.

"What do you want?" she snapped. Danny exhaled deeply.

"Sam…" He took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry about how I've been acting. I've just been…"

"Stupid?" she suggested.

"Yeah. But more importantly. I." He paused. "I've been honestly such a huge coward. Still kinda am, actually. Like…" He swallowed nervously, glancing at the ground. "I've been too afraid to bring it up or to really even talk to you about it."

Sam cocked her head to the side. She took a few steps back, sitting down on her bed and patting the spot next to it.

"Talk to me," she encouraged. Danny plopped down next to her, turning human as he did so.

"I want to be with you," he said bluntly. "But just...I get so caught up in all these what-ifs. What if it doesn't work out? What if you get tired of me? What if you eventually realize that it sucks being with somebody who has to cancel dates or who ditches you because I have to stop Skulker or Technus or Ember? What if you get hurt because of me? What if…" he trailed off, not even wanting to get into deeper thoughts.

"I wish you had told me this sooner," Sam spoke softly. "We could have talked about it." Danny sighed.

"I know, I know. I just." He rubbed the palms of his hands up and down his thighs as he tried to provide some kind of a rational answer. "I'm afraid. Even now. I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," Sam reassured him. She put her hand on top of one of his, and he stopped. "You're one of my best friends, and I love you so much."

"...I love you too," he confessed. He turned his wrist, moving to intertwine their fingers together. "I can't imagine a future without you being there in some way. And I just...I guess I've always been worried about you not wanting to be there anymore."

"I'll always want to be there," she smiled. She leaned in, lightly pecking his cheek. He sighed deeply in relief. "Even if we tried, and we found that it didn't work, that doesn't mean we can't still be friends after. But we'll never really know unless...you know. We tried."

"So, I guess that means that um...you'd be interested in maybe going to prom with me?" he asked.

"Of course, ya dingus." She lightly tapped his new nose ring. "So. How much trouble are you in with your mom?" Danny flinched.

"Man, let's just say I'm surprised she didn't fully kill me."

[hettiesworld]

Name of fic: I Recommend a Daddy

Pairing: Sugar daddy!Chris x OFC (Addison)

Plot summary: When Addison runs out of money and is about to lose her house, her friends Auora and Sydney recommend to her a sugar daddy. Of course, there is one thing that is different to the other sugar daddy companies; there is a romantic relationship available.

Warnings: Foul language, sexual themes.

Author’s note: This is part of @donutloverxo Sugary 4k Challenge. Of course, it is not part of my Chris x Addison series fic, “Best Thing I Ever Had”, just to be clear. My OCs are not famous, neither are the celebrities in this.

Word count: 1641 words.

“Rory! Sydney! Need your help quick!” Addison called out to her friends whilst running from her spare bedroom to her own, her handbag in one hand and her purse in the other.

“What is it Addy?” Sydney asked her, trying to braid Aurora’s hair.

“I have no money! I am gonna lose my house --” She started to freak out, breathing heavily. Just like the talkative person that she was. Until Auora stood up from her sitting position.

She placed her hands on Addison’s shoulders.

“Addy. Calm down, it’s okay, just do what we did. Get a sugar daddy.” “A sugar daddy?” “Yeah.” Sydney added on, also standing up, phone in hand. “Have a look. This is my sugar daddy.”

The picture on Sydney’s phone was of a 50 year old man. She could tell by the wrinkles on his face. Addison cringed at how old he was.

“And this is mine.” Aurora beamed as she picked up her phone, showing Addison her one. He looked, at least, 30-something years old.

“How old is he?” She asked Auora. “51. And he is Syd’s brother!” Aurora exclaimed. “What? How is he one? I have met him loads of time and it looked like… no offence, but he looked like he didn’t have a lot of money.” Addison explained.

“Meh. Something about a relative having a lot of money and I didn’t get anything. So I got Jeremy to help me.” Sydney replied. “But I don’t mind if my brother didn’t help me, I got to meet --” “--Yes, you got to meet Jeremy, we know. But that doesn’t mean you get to kiss him or something…” Addison interrupted Sydney.

She out her handbag on the bedside table and sighed, collapsing onto the comfortable water bed.

“Actually…”

Addison sat up and was shocked at what Auora was going to say.

“Wait… you’re in a relationship with them?” Addison exclaimed, putting on a confused face.

Both Sydney and Auora shrugged their shoulders, basically saying that they were.

“It’s kinda complicated. It’s a polyamorous relationship. He can date other girls. That’s the business of the sugar daddy company they are part of.” Sydney explained.

Addison thought to herself, ‘Does she need a sugar daddy? She was losing her house and she didn’t have a lot of money…’ Sydney already had Addison’s laptop up, with the sugar daddy website on it, flashing in her blue eyes.

“Go on. Pick one!” Sydney encouraged, placing the laptop in her lap.

Addison sighed and looked over the website. She repeatedly denied every single one she looked at until she found a 39-year old man picture on there. Let’s just say, Addison was definitely interested in him. His name was Chris and he was from Boston, Massachusetts. 

“Ooh… He looks interesting and hot! Go on, message him!” Aurora said to her, instantly clicking on the messaging app within the website. “Rory! Why did you do that?” Addison condemned Aurora. “Look! He messaged you!” Sydney added.

Mr. Evans: Hello Addison. Are you interested in my offer of being your sugar daddy?

“Reply Addy, reply!” Sydney and Auora both exclaimed at her.

“Okay, okay. Just leave me alone. Let me message him.”

Addison: Hello, Mr Evans. I guess I am interested in your offer. Mr. Evans: Please call me Chris. Now, tell me. Why are you coming to this website? Addison: I am going to lose my job and my friends suggested this website. It could help me with my financial problems. Mr. Evans: I will gladly help with your money issues. We should meet up, but if you’re living far away, we should meet via webcam. Addison: I would like that.  Mr. Evans: Just give me your Skype details and I will contact you soon.

Sydney and Auora screamed with glee as Chris accepted the offer. Addison sighed at them before giving Chris her details.

“Now we wait.”

It was a few days afterwards and Addison was alone, in her bedroom. She was waiting for Chris to call her via Skype. Then, it happened.

“Hello?”

Addison looked up from her phone, as she was playing Candy Crush Saga.

 “Oh my… I am so sorry! I didn’t know you called me!” She yelped, making Chris laugh from the call.

“It’s alright. I’m guessing you’re Addison then?” He asked her.

“Yep. Sorry I was playing Candy Crush. And please, call me Addy. My friends call me that.” “Got it. What level are you on?” Questioned Chris, titling his head and then sipping a beer. “I’m on… level 182.” “That is cool. I’m on level 543.” “What? How?!” “Practice.”

They both laughed.

“Anyways… You have financial problems?” He then asked her, having a notebook and pen in his hands. “Yeah I do. A few days ago, I had no money in my bank account. I’m getting evicted soon cause I can’t pay my rent…” Addison rambled on as Chris nodded understandably, writing down what she was saying. “I am so sorry. Well, if you accept my offer, then you will be able to live at my place, accompanied with me and my dog, I will be able to pay everything off. All you need to do is give me company. Do some chores around the house, that sort of stuff.” He explained.

Addison thought for a while.

“I do need money. Okay, I accept.” “Great! You can start in 2 days. Just come to my address in Massachusetts and we will do the contract and important stuff. Get packed and I’ll see you then, okay?” “Okay! Thank you so much Chris!” She hung up.

2 days later, she flew from London to Boston, Massachusetts in the USA.

It was a city of wide avenues and small places to sit and eat, to relax as folk went about their day. There were the sky towers in the centre, what was once thousands of homes now took up less ground space than an old shopping mall. The rest was parks and wild spaces, a chance to walk among nature or enjoy the trails on bicycles or horseback. Yet perhaps Addison’s favourite thing was the river that flowed through the centre, crossing the bridges, pausing just to look at the view I saw every day and loved all the more.

She arrived outside a white-ish house, just outside the city.

There stood a tall man, about 6’ 0”, with short brown hair and bright blue eyes. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, 2 buttons undone. He also wore brown shorts and white sneakers. “Addy! You came!” Chris smiled and welcomed her with open arms. She stood out of the fancy car. She was wearing a pretty flowery dress with matching blue shoes with wedged heels. Bright red sunglasses, her blonde hair flowing in the cool wind. In her hand, a beautiful leather handbag.

Addison pranced over to Chris, trying not to fall over in her shoes.

“Chris! It is a pleasure to meet you.” Her London accent was clear as day as she gave him the usual posh greeting; an air kiss on each cheek. “You too. How was your flight?” He asked her, being a true gentleman and bowing, kissing the back of her hand. “It was luxurious!” Addison smiled at him, blushing at the gesture he gave her. “Please! Let me give you a tour!”

The house Chris lived in looked quite expensive. She was surprised that he had a drawing-room (or a living room to you guys). The drawing room had a snug and huggy feel to it. The dining room, which was next to it,  was Chris’s in-home cafe, one where all the chefs and wait staff cooked for a living.

Upstairs, the bedroom she was staying in was just tidy enough to show that she cared about the space and just messy enough to show that she was able to let her creativity roam free. It was her goldilocks zone, perfect for how she was, especially for an inspiring storyteller like her. The en-suite next to it was a place of washing, of nurturing our sanity with the sensation of warm water and aromatic soaps. For the body must feel loved and cared for, for then it feeds back these messages to the brain and begins to set up a positive cycle of wellness.

After the tour, Chris let his personal servant takes Addison’s luggage to her bedroom as they stood in the massive hallway.

“Please make yourself at home. You are staying here. Any questions?” He asked her. “No. Not that I can think of.” “Good. Let’s meet in the drawing-room to discuss the contract.”

They both walked into the drawing-room and sat next to each other, with a big pile of papers, which is basically the whole contract. It was halfway through the signing.“Okay… time for section 5, which is relationships and sex.” Addison choked as he said that. “S-sex?” She faltered, coughing as her drink went the wrong way down her throat.

“Yes… you okay?” Chris helped her by patting her back. Apparently, that doesn’t help at all but Chris didn’t know that then.

She hummed in response as she put down her drink, leaning back as if it never happened.

“You alright now?” “Yep. Carry on.” “Okay… Now, are you fine with us being in a polyamorous relationship or do you want a ‘just friends’ relationship?” Chris asked, reading off the paper. Addison pondered to herself.

“Can I think upon it? I don’t want to be in a relationship without any romantic interest in each other…” She mumbled. “Yeah, of course. It would be cool to go on a date to see if we do have a spark.” He suggested, placing the contract down back onto the table. “I like that idea.” Addison smiled at him, blushing.

[queenofallhobos]

An Unexpected Visitor

A/N: This is meant to be a one shot, but there is a chance I will write more of Willa’s story eventually… maybe… I dunno

  Summary: Willa has worked for the TVA for a long time, over the course of her tenure she has met many Loki’s, each unique in their own way. A meeting with a new Loki goes awry when an old face pops by.

  Working for the TVA was with out a doubt, the dullest job you could ever have, at least the work I performed in the library which was essentially keeping the files in order. Occasionally I would be called away from my refiling or alphabetizing to set up the training videos for some new recruit which was very rare and something I looked forward to just to break up the monotony.

               Today was exciting for a few different reasons; Casey had come to tell me about some variant who had gotten loose and threatened to turn him into a fish (I think he must have been confused about what the threat actually was since magic didn’t exist inside the TVA but oh well…) and then he told me how that same variant had been recruited by Mobius to help track down the Loki variant causing so much trouble. I had met a few Loki variants in my time here, one of whom still loved to come and harass me out of the blue and was the only other variant who had managed to evade capture for so long.

               I was left once again to the silence and repetition of checking that the files were in order before placing them back where they go, Casey having gotten bored of my lack of response and going to get lunch, when the soothing voice of everyones favorite agent reached my ears.

               “-a few videos, nothing too extreme but you have to know all of this if before you go out in the field. Willa, just the woman I was looking for.” Mobius said throwing his arms up and offering me a wide smile.

               “Another one Mobius? Are you sure it’s safe?” I asked appraising the Loki variant hovering just behind the silver haired agent. He was tall, and damn was he good looking! I could just imagine the muscles he had hiding under his TVA jumpsuit and bit my lip as I did just that.

               “See something you like darling” He smirked leaning toward me.

               “Be nice-“ Mobius began but I cut him off. “Actually yes, yes I do. You already know you’re hot stuff so don’t try to act like you don’t see me eye fucking you.”

               His smirk widened at my blunt response and he let out a chuckle that gave me goose bumps. “Damn Mobius, this one is just all brooding angst and sex appeal isn’t he?” I asked looking the seasoned agent in the eye, sharing a smile

               “Met many of me, have you?” Loki asked standing up straight and showing me his full height. ‘Damn I’d climb you like a tree.’ I thought.

               “A few, you are definitely the most handsome version I’ve had the pleasure to meet though.” His expression didn’t falter but I could tell my honesty surprised him. “Not as dangerous or cruel as the others I hope?”

               “Nah, he’s a puppy.” Mobius cut in, then continued as Loki shot him a look of outrage. “Anyway Will we need the training videos for our boy here.”

               “A puppy?! I beg your pardon-“ Loki spat.

               “I thought gods didn’t beg.” Mobius said with a smug grin.

               Rolling my eyes I turned intending to gather the requested videos when a chill ran up my spine, the smile falling from my face. I spun nervously checking all around us catching the attention of the squabbling men. “I think we have a visitor…” I mumbled.

               “You mean, him?” Mobius whispered now joining me in my surveillance.

               Nodding then nearly jumping a foot into the air when I felt someone rest their head by mine. “Him who? Should I be jealous?” Loki whispered in my ear, chuckling at me reaction.

               “Another Loki, the most dangerous and powerful variant the TVA has come across to date.” I replied drawing a scoff from the Loki beside me.

               “Now you know I don’t go by that name my scrumptious little cupcake.” I found myself a few feet away wearing a short dress and ridiculously high heels, being dipped back by Him.

               “Q. You’re looking well.” I sighed trying to extract myself from his embrace. Not that it did me any good, the trickster just spun me around and held me with my back to his chest and began to sway to whatever music was playing in his head.

               “This is a Loki?” The Loki next to Mobius asked incredulous. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

               “Ooh, another me. How exciting!” Q said reappearing suddenly next to Loki and circling him, inspecting the shorter man. “He looks nice, but tell me Willa do you think he could ever be as powerful as me?” He pouted once more appearing at my side as Loki swung his fist at him.

               “Now hang on a moment, why is it he is able to use his powers here and I can’t?” Loki asked glowering at Mobius.

               “Because, my lesser self, I am not just a Loki.”

               “He’s a Q. Now both of you calm your man titties, Loki put the file box down there is no throwing things in the library. Especially since I’d be the one to pick it up.” I huffed crossing my arms self consciously over my chest. I wanted to ask Q to change me back into my clothes but knew the jerk would only enjoy making me uncomfortable and torture me longer if I brought it up.

               “Oh, but you wouldn’t Willa.” Q cooed twirling a bit of my hair in his fingers.

               “What do that mean?” Mobius asked stepping toward us, holding out his hand for me. I took a step in his direction but soon found myself behind Loki and Mobius, still beside Q.

               He had also thankfully changed me out of the skin tight dress and into some sort of black and red jump suit, putting himself into a matching one. “It’s strange with out the beard…” He muttered stroking a finger down my cheek. “No matter, to answer your question my fine mustachioed friend Willa will be coming with me.”

               My heart leapt to my throat and I once more tried to get back to Mobius. “You’re nuts, I’m staying right here Q!” I shouted when he simply grabbed my arm and pulled me back, slinging his own arm across my shoulders to keep me in place.

               “I’m afraid not. You will be joining me to a place no person has gone before.” He giggled waving his fingers at the other men.

The floor seemed to fall out from under me and had it not been for Q I would have found myself on my ass when it suddenly reappeared. Gasping I took in my surroundings. It reminded me of home, all sleek and modern compared to the TVA, but the real eye catcher was the large window to my left. At first I thought it was just nighttime wherever we were, and it might have been, but upon closer inspection I saw that wherever we were was not stationary.

“Are we in space?!”

[rosesnink]

Your Most Ardent Admirer

Author’s Notes 

*This new series I had baking for a very long time took me a lot of research and writer’s block for nearly a year, but here it is! 

*This series will treat some sensible themes, such as traumas of the WWI, the misogyny, war itself, etc, so this series will be rated +13 for your sakes. 

*All the characters belong to Pixelberry, I only own my OC, June Dante, no one else. 

Summary: Ernest Sinclaire finds himself a widower, lonely and hopeless, until he meets this dashing singer that has intrigued him from minute one... 

TW: Heavy kissing, adultery 

Rating: PG-13 

Word Count: 2310 

*Click in the image for better quality!!

London, UK, 1928

The night had fallen in the Guilty Pleasures as Ernest Sinclaire scans the cabaret’s crowd. They’re all laughing, drinking and kissing. Everyone lives their lives as he mourns. He catches Bartholomew Chamber’s shape, with a hand awfully down on a man’s waist. He’s laughing, flirting shamelessly with that man as the other ladies giggle to themselves. Donna Bowman seems to see him and whispers something to Felicity Holloway. He goes toward the bar as he avoids all he can the blonde woman. He finds himself dodging some dancing ladies and waitresses in revealing clothes to catch his eye. But he ignores them all.

He finds a glass of expensive vodka and gulps it as he observes his photo with his now dead wife: Roselyn D’Oleur, a beautiful and delicate French girl who caught his attention when he was just 19. They dated over a year before he proposed to her. She accepted between ‘oohs’ and giggles. They lived happy and had a great dynamic in everything… or that’s what he thought. Then, reality hit him. She’d ask him for money all the time to go shopping and fetch drinks that never came to her since she disappeared all night. Both families pressured them to settle down and start conceiving children, but Roselyn started coming very late at home and that connection was… lost.

One day, after talking late about businesses with Vincent Foredale, he saw Roselyn in a hotel room that had the window open. She was naked and drinking expensive wine. He thought, under his hot collar that it was just ladies’ fun…   Until he saw him. The man who had been a role model was there, also naked, taking his own wife in a hotel with the window open. He thought it must be a joke. A nightmare. But fifteen minutes later they were at it again, and he couldn’t stand it. He awaited her until she came home at 6 a.m., her hair a mess and hickeys all over her neck and her dress half zipped.

“How long, Roselyn?” He asked, looking at her with sour pain. “Please, no more lies. I saw you both there. I saw everything.”

She sighed as she played with what seemed like the room’s key “Two years. Ernest, I am so sorry- It was a mistake!”

“You know it’s not true. Is it a mistake that you flirted with him with my ring on your finger, let him touch you, allow him to connect with you for who knows how often and without daring to look to my eyes and tell me the truth? That’s not a mistake, Roselyn. You let it happen and made me look like a fool in front of everyone. I just- What did I do wrong?”

She took a heavy breath “It’s not you, Ernest. You’re a fantastic husband, but- the thing is- I don’t love you. I only wanted your money, Ernest. Not all of us can afford being romantic.”

Those words came to him like a stab on his chest. He felt fooled, hurt and humiliated. This was all about money and reputation. Never love.

“Just- Get out, Roselyn. I need to think. Alone” She reached for him, but he jerked back “Don’t do it. Just… Go.”

The days passed as he processed everything and thought how he’d look at the people once he saw what they probably saw for a while ago. He felt so… he couldn’t even name it.

The days passed until, at midnight, he heard a loud banging at the door. Whoever it was, it was screeching his name and insisting on him to open the door. And he obliged.

Who else than Roselyn was there, crying and grabbing her stomach? He rushed her inside and helped her calm down and talk to him. She cried out in his shoulder that she was pregnant. Pregnant of Tristan Richards. And that she told him, but he repudiated her for a rather young woman who seemed as a payed prostitute.

Her family disowned her, the father wouldn’t talk to her and she was now a fornicator with no feelings.

Even if his reasoning told him to do the same, it was against his nature. His ethics, how he was raised. He took her in, helped her through pregnancy and never left her side.

But things got complicated in childbirth. She lost a lot of blood, she was in pain and very weak. She was too young to bear it. She died, but the child would survive.

She was breathing heavily, holding the babe tight. She looked at him and muttered “Percival… his name is Percival… take care of him…please. It’s-it’s not his fault. Don’t make him pay for my sins,”

He took her hand and kissed it “I will. Little Percival will have everything he needs. I promise.”

She smiled at him weakly and kissed his hand in return as she looked at the crying newborn “Mon bebe… J’et aime.” And with that, she was gone.

And now, back at the present, he awaited his company as his fingers drummed the table. There he was. Renard D’Oleur, Roselyn’s brother. He saluted him and asked “Where’s my nephew?”

“He is outside with the nanny. We’re biding our goodbyes. Will he be alright?”

“I assure you, he will.” He patted his back “If that’s everything…”

“Wait, one more thing. May I… call him monthly? To check on him?”

Renard sighed as he grimaced “He is just one year old and I wouldn’t have to force him compromise with something like that. I’m so sorry, I wish I could do more.”

“Just keep him safe. It’s all I ask of you,”

“He will. We’ll tell him who was his mother.”

And with that, he left with the bundle of joy in his arms, a part of him broken. He turned on his heels to look at him again and commented.

“Anyways, June Dante is giving a show in here today. Chick’s know how to sing and give a show. Relax and let her bewitch you.”

He sighed as he chugged his vodka and shook his head. Last thing he needed was now a show.

He was about to pay the bartender when a feminine voice started singing, her melodical, mermaid-alike voice seemed to caress his skin and he turned on his left, where the singer, who had a short, blonde hair and an elegant flapper dress, red lipstick and elegant high-heeled boots that made her mildly bare legs and dress draw him to her. She smiled as she dropped sensually her fur coat and started singing the chorus

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend

No man can compete against them

I like to wear them without the pressure of being called Mrs.

Making my skin glowing

If I could choose a marriage over this stone of pure blessing

I’d choose elegance over a tying knot

And do not dare to say men are better than these blessed stone

Because ‘tis the glow that will never overshadow moi

His eyes were glued on her, her charming and seductive smile, how her hands and hips moved in a killing, slow way and her eyes connected with his, sending a cold shiver over his spine, his heart racing fast. The song was reaching the end, and there was a moment where she rolled over his seat and caressed his cheek in a ticklish, sensual way, making him shiver and blush furiously. She ended her spectacle dancing in a very revealing way, feeling hot under his collar, his eyes never wandering off hers. Everyone clapped and threw her flowers, money and even personal belongings followed by “I love you’s, marry me and other rather scandalizing ways as she laughed seductively, her voice like velvet in his ear and waved goodbye.

Renard was right, that woman made a most dignifying spectacle, making him want more of her. He drank the rest of his vodka and wandered how a stranger would possibly land her beautiful hazel eyes on him, a simple, modest man. A man tapped his shoulder and whispered to accompany him. He followed the rather intimidating man and trespassed Richards, who was trying to get the singer’s attention.

“Oh, come on! Him of all people?! He’s but a boring widower! You deserve better, June!”

“Miss June awaits you. Be a gentleman,” The man scowled before kicking out Richards at the head of the horde of people.

When he took in the image of June in a fine silk white robe and her hair flawlessly falling on the edges of her jaw and with a rather extended V over her chest and revealing her ankles and part of her flawlessly shaved legs, his heart raced and his pulse quicken as he tried to assimilate that the beauty of June Dante called him. She turned around, her smile perfect and white and her lips still red and her face glowing and heard her regular voice, he felt like speaking with an envoy of the angels.

“So you’re the dashing gentleman! Oh, how rude of me, here, have a drink, darling!” She handed him an elegant flute of fruity white wine and rushed him to a very comfortable sofa and sat in a way that she was leaning on him and her knees were at a 90 angle and her manicured feet were barely seen and her perfectly made nails got close to him.

“What’s your name, handsome?” She traced a shivering line on his hand vein.

“Sinclaire. Ernest Sinclaire” He answered, trying not to shudder.

“Ernest Sinclaire… Hmm, I like your name, Ernest,” She purred as he tried to control the dizziness in his head and how her middle and index finger were tracing his hand and his heart was racing fast like a hummingbird.

“I- Thank you, Miss—,”

“June. Just call me June. We’re in confidence, dear Ernest,”

He had to admit, his name in her lips was like being kissed and caressed of Venus’s touch.

“What brings you to my show tonight, handsome?”

He swallowed as she played with the corners of her dress and answered “I’m a regular since—since my wife’s passing. I just closed some business with her brother”

Her face fell as her hand traced the length of his arm and caressed his jaw “Oh, dear, I am so sorry to hear that such a dashing and intriguing man is alone in this gray town.” She pouted.

“I—That’s much appreciated, Miss—Ahem, June.”

“Come, love, allow me to ease the pain,” She placed his head on her chest, making his skin crawl and his heart was about to get out of his chest as he felt her heartbeats and how she caressed his hair, playing with his curls.

He didn’t know if it was the vodka or some strange substance in the champagne, but he felt so good…

“Thank you, June. You’re a kind woman.”

“Oh, I am not just known for my singing skills, dear Ernest,”.  

“I never doubted that, June.”

“How long?” She asked of all sudden.

“I’m sorry?” He asked back, confused.

“How long has your wife been dead?”

He didn’t understand why she asked that but he answered anyways “Like, for a year. Why?”

She didn’t answer. She just grabbed his face and kissed him fervently, all the tension in the ambiance now down. He was at first startled by the sudden action of the woman, but then he kissed her back, returning her fervent kisses and grabbing gently her waist and back, bringing her closer to him. She moaned softly as she grabbed his hair and the back of his neck, laying down the sofa, allowing him to be atop her. Their tongues battled for dominance before she panted, leaving him some liberties and a hand traveled to her lower back, bringing her body closer to her, which she answered by arching towards him. He moaned in pure bliss and delight, not believing such a beauty would be allowing him take such liberties with her. She grabbed his shirt and tried to tug it off, but then he realized one thing: he was quite tipsy, kissing a dashing stranger and in a backstage no less. He broke the kiss and sat again as he gulped, wiping off her lipstick all over his mouth. She looked at him confused and panting, her lips red and itchy of the kissing.

“Why’d you stop? Is something wrong? I thought you liked me!”

He studied carefully his words before placing a hand in her.

“June, you’re a breathtaking, beautiful, interesting and witty woman, but we just met and I’m still grieving my wife. It’s—It’s not the moment. I am not ready for jump out for some new romantic adventure. You deserve so much better, June.”

She nodded as she fished something of her purse and said “It’s alright. I understand. I shall apologize for dragging you to this, it was wrong of me,” She handed him a few cards “My residences in Madrid, the outskirts of London, Paris, New York and Berlin if you want to pen me, either as a friend or whatever you’d like, I’ll be at your disposal despite the distance.”

He grabbed those cards and nodded “That’s kind of you, June. I’ll treasure them,”

She kissed his cheek and sighed “It was memorable to meet you, Ernest. I hope we can see each other again,”

“Me, too,”

With that, he left. All the feelings rushed him inside: he felt happiness, guilt, longing… He shook his head. He just met this woman! Love at first sight was but an old wives’ tale. And he was still grieving Roselyn, he couldn’t just do that so easily. Maybe he couldn’t afford a lover, but it never hurt having a friend who could listen to you and make your day brighter.

Right?

[cobaltusami]

Tropical Vacation pt 8

Well, this isn't the fic I was planning to release next, but oh well-- I was feeling It.

Hey hi hello dolls! It's been a long ass time since I've updated this series, and unfortunately there aren't many tickles in this part, but there Is a ton of fluff! either the next part or the part after will be chock full of tickles! (Or both)

I hope It's alright!

Characters In this part: All of DR1 girls excluding Junko and Mukuro, All of the DR2 girls. Lee!Chihiro

Word count: 3429

All previous parts, as well as my other fics, can be found here!: Masterlist

Hina kicked at the sand absentmindedly as she gazed longingly out at the water. “Man, I really missed seeing the ocean but…” She crossed her arms and made a face. “What good Is it If I can’t swim in it!? I’m like a fish, If I don’t swim In water I’ll die!!”

Sakura smiled amusedly at her best friend. She can be so dramatic sometimes… “Hina, they said It was safe to swim In…”

“Yeah but Monokuma didn’t give me any of my swimsuits…” She mumbled dejectedly, kicking a rock into the water.

Yeah, they didn’t exactly get the chance to pack their stuff or even ask Monokuma for specific things from their rooms. Aside from the morning announcements he hasn’t even shown up-- not that anyone besides Byakuya was complaining.

“Ugh!! That’s It!” Hina ripped off her red jacket and tossed it to Sakura. “Hold my jacket, I’m going In!”

The Martial artist fumbled the piece of clothing, caught off guard by the swimmers sudden outburst. She quickly grabbed the brunette’s arm to stop her. “W-Wait! Instead of doing that… Why don’t we just go find the store and see If it carries swimsuits?” She suggested.

As usual Sakura was the voice of reason amongst the chaotic gays.

Hina paused, thinking it over. “Okay… That sounds good In theory, But what if they don’t carry them?”

“Then I’m sure they’ll carry donuts… we’ll get some to cheer you up then ask Usami if she knows where the swimsuits are.”

Aoi giggled as she took her jacket back from the tall girl and tied it around her waist. “I like the way you think!” She grinned. “Let’s go!”

“Alright, Let’s just ask Nekomaru where the store Is.”

They both looked to Neko, who had stuck around to keep an eye on Mondo.

“No need! I can show you where it is if you want.” Mahiru volunteered, suddenly behind the two.

Hina squeaked as they both quickly turned to face the Photographer.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you both.” The red head apologized with a sympathetic smile.

“Geez Mahiru!” Hina giggled, placing her hand over her still racing heart. “You got me good!”

“Are you sure? We don’t want to trouble you.”

Mahiru nodded with a smile. “I’m sure. Actually, I was coming to find you two. Apparently Usami has something to tell us girls...”

The two tensed. It’s not a motive, Is it?

“What do you think It is?” Hina asked as she started walking with Sakura and Mahiru.

“I’m honestly not sure. Normally she gathers all of us, not just the girls.” Mahiru responded.

As they crossed over the bridge to the second island, the girls of both classes came into view. Even Toko, surprisingly.

“Hey Toko!” Hina waved her hand at the writer. “Glad to see you out of your room!” she smiled as she turned to face her.

“W-Where Ha-Have you two b-b-been?!”

“We were checking out the beach.” Aoi answered. “Sorry, did we worry you?”

“D-Don’t b-be ridiculous! Why w-w-would I worry a-about you m-m-meatheads?!” she blushed.

Hina smiled and wrapped her arms around the awkward girl’s shoulders in a hug. “Aww, You WERE worried about us!”

“S-Shut up!” Toko blushed even more, batting the brunette away.

Soon enough, Usami appeared out of nowhere. Much like they were used to Monokuma doing. “Love love! Hello everyone!” She greeted the group cheerfully. “I hope you are all getting along okay!”

“We’re doing fine, Usami.” Chiaki smiled, patting Chihiro on the shoulder. She had brought them along and wanted to include them In on whatever Usami had planned.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Usami replied. “As some of you may know, I no longer have my magic stick…”

“Magic stick?” Sakura repeated quietly, confused.

“It’s a long story.” Mahiru whispered back.

“But It appears that Monokuma must have one of his own. Because there’s some new buildings on this island!” Usami explained, surprised. “One of such buildings, Is a women’s clothing boutique. Which is why I asked you all here.”

Sonia’s face brightened. “Really?? Wow! That Is wonderful!”

“I thought I should tell you all first before I told the boys.” Usami giggled. “I thought It might be a nice chance to bond with the other class’s girls.”

“And enby.” Chiaki and Mahiru both said at the same time. Chihiro smiled at the two girls In response.

“Right! I’m sorry, I’ll remember that for next time!” Usami apologized. “Anyway! There’s also a spa on the Island! So enjoy yourselves!”

She disappeared from sight, leaving the group to talk amongst themselves.

“This has to be a trick of some kind.” Kyoko said thoughtfully. “A motive, Maybe?”

“Yeah, I am not trusting It either.” Peko agreed.

“It’s gotta be a motive, It’s been too peaceful!” Hina chimed in.

“What If Monokuma put ‘Saw’ movie level traps in the clothing?” Ibuki theorized. “And the moment we put on the clothes-- SQUISH! BLEH! Off with our heads!”

Mahiru cringed at the gory sounds Ibuki tried to make, sighing softly. “I doubt he would have time to do that. But It’s definitely suspicious…”

“And why only things for girls?” Akane thought aloud. “It seems like a trap.”

“I think we should check It out regardless.” Celeste smiled. “I think a spa trip sounds lovely, perhaps even worth the risk.”

“I GOT IT!” Hina yelled in realization, all attention now on her. “WHAT IF MONOKUMA PUT SHARKS IN THE SPA?!”

“This again…? H-Hina I doubt there Is enough water for sharks in the spa.” Sakura sighed. She loved this girl, but sometimes she could be a bit… out there.

“She might actually be onto something.” Kyoko surprisingly agreed with her wild theory after a moment of thinking.

“H-H-How wo-would that e-even be possible?” Toko stammered in disbelief.

“Maybe not specifically sharks, but that would be the least suspecting place to put something dangerous.” The detective calmly theorized. “It may be too dangerous to check out without more muscle power.”

“Why do we need more muscle power? Sakura, Peko an’ I can handle it!” Akane grinned.

“No offense to you three, but there is strength in numbers.” Kyoko responded, to which Sakura and Peko nodded in agreement. “But there are less places to hide dangerous traps In a boutique, So I think we should be okay to check that out.”

“And then we get the boys to go with us to the spa?” Peko asked for clarification.

“Yes. I think that would be wise.”

So with the group in agreement (except for Toko, who immediately went back to her room), the girls and enby headed to the boutique to investigate.

After some time looking around for clues or traps, they were shocked to find it was literally just a normal clothing store… or so It seemed.

“That’s strange.” Kyoko said, surprised as she inspected a piece of clothing.

“What? Did you find something?” Chiaki asked, yawning as she approached the detective.

“It’s… just clothes.”

“You mean, These are actually safe?” Sayaka asked curiously, poking her head around the corner to look at the two girls.

“It appears so… I’d still check before you try anything on but--”

She was already back around the corner with Ibuki. “Oh my gosh, Ibuki! With some leggings this would look so cute on you!”

Sonia giggled. “I agree!”

Ibuki looked at the frilly mini dress held up against her body in pure disgust. “Eugh! Ibuki doesn’t do this style anymore, It makes Ibuki feel restricted.”

“Okay, maybe not this dress then…” Sayaka put it back and looked around for another one. “We should match for our concert though.”

While the three looked through the costume dresses, Chihiro was on the other side of the store looking at all the cute casual dresses. They felt a little self conscious looking at them.

“Hi, Chihiro.” Mahiru greeted, approaching the small programmer with her girlfriend in tow. “Are you alright?”

Chihiro jumped in surprise, immediately letting go of the dress they were looking at. “O-Oh! Hi Mahiru… Hiyoko.” They greeted the two girls shyly.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you!” Mahiru apologized with a small smile. “I was just coming over to look for a new sun dress.”

Chihiro nodded, absentmindedly going back to looking at the dress they found as Mahiru began shuffling the articles of clothing on the rack.

The red head stole a few glances over at Chihiro, noticing their hesitancy. “Are you okay?”

Hiyoko tilted her head curiously as she too looked up from the dresses.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine! S-Sorry… am I distracting you?”

The two ultimates exchanged glances before looking back at the small enby. “Of course not… I’m just concerned about you.”

“O-Oh… there’s no reason to be concerned, I’m okay… really.” Chihiro put on the best smile they could, but Mahiru, who constantly photographed smiling people, immediately knew it was forced.

Hiyoko’s eyes scanned the clothing rack in front of Chihiro until she noticed a disturbed article of clothing, she walked over and plucked it from the rack. “This Is a cute dress.” She commented, drawing both Mahiru and Chihiro’s attention.

Hiyoko looked at the Programmer and smiled. “You should try It on.”

Mahiru had to do a double take, had someone replaced her fiery imp of a girlfriend with someone sweet???

Chihiro blushed brightly. “Um… I-I could never pull that off…”

“Sure you could.” Mahiru smiled, following Hiyoko’s lead.

“I-I don’t know…”

“Chihiro!” Sonia bounced over brightly. “You would look adorable in that!”

“Maybe If we found a sweater to go with it you’d feel better.” Chiaki smiled.

“Ooh! And some accessories!” Sayaka joined in.

Chihiro had a bad feeling about this…

“R-Really girls, I-Its okay! I was heading over to look at skirts anyways!” They tried backing away, but the girls weren’t letting them off the hook that easily.

Meanwhile, Hina found the swimsuits much to her excitement. They were pretty cute too! Some of them were plain, others had skirts to them, pretty patterns, bikinis, one pieces… you name it, they had it.

Hina picked up a red tropical flower patterned bikini with a skirt. “Check this out Sakura, It’s so cute! And It’s my size!” she squealed happily.

The martial artist stopped what she was doing and looked over at her best friend with an amused smile. “It looks nice.”

After another moment of searching she produced a similar bikini and showed It to Sakura again.

“That kind of looks like the last one.”

“Mhm! Except It’s white with red and pink flowers! What do you think?”

“It’s… pretty?”

“Good, Because It’s your size.” Hina grinned impishly.

Sakura paused. “Hina… I don’t do bikinis.”

“Why not?”

Sakura immediately got flashbacks. She recalled when she had first started gaining muscle and went to the beach with her friends, she had gotten stared at and made fun of. She was made so uncomfortable that she just went home.

“...Reasons.”

Hina pouted. She knew that was code for something serious. “Fine, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable… I’ll keep looking.”

“Thank you for respecting my--”

They were interrupted by Chihiro shrieking, they looked at each other in alarm and bolted in the direction of the sound. Upon rounding the corner they found Chihiro wrapped up in Sayaka’s arms while Chiaki and Mahiru tickled them.

Sakura sighed in relief upon seeing it was just something harmless.

Hina grinned. “You good Chihiro?” She couldn’t help but tease them.

“Hehehehelp mehehe!” They squealed as Chiaki squeezed their sides.

“Why are you all ganging up on Chihiro?” Sakura asked, feeling some pity for the smol programming bean.

“Why not?” Hina retorted. “Chihiro’s too cute not to tickle!”

“Hinahaha you’re not hehehelping!” They blushed even more.

“Oh sorry~ I’ll help you now.” Hina smiled innocently, approaching the trapped enby. The swimmer fluttered her fingers against their belly, drawing even more squeals of laughter. “There, do you feel helped now?” she giggled.

“Hahahahahaha! That’s nohohohot whahahat I meheheheant!” They whined.

“Chihiro started crying because they did not feel they could pull off this dress.” Sonia explained gently, holding the dress up. “So the others are trying to cheer them up.”

Sakura frowned. She understood where Chihiro was coming from, but literally Chihiro would look so fucking cute in that dress. It was a white ruffle sundress with a light yellow ribbon sash.

It was bewildering that Chihiro didn’t think they could pull it off…

Sakura scanned around until her eyes fell on a light yellow sweater with short sleeves, she picked it up and walked back over to the giggling programmer.

The girls stopped tickling and looked at the piece of clothing in the tall girl's hands. Chihiro slid to the floor in a heap of lingering giggles and soft gasps.

The white haired girl sat down next to them. “Chihiro, I understand how you feel. You feel like everyone Is going to be staring at you and judging you.”

They nodded meekly, staring at the floor.

“And maybe people have done that to you before…” She paused as Chihiro nodded again. “But you’re among your friends here, and we aren’t judging you In the slightest.”

“Yeah, Sakura’s right.” Chiaki agreed, sitting down too. The other girls followed suit. “We would never judge you.”

“We all have things we are self conscious about, Chihiro.” Sonia smiled kindly at the enby. “I am self conscious about my skin.”

“R-Really…? But you’re so pretty…” Chihiro looked at her.

“Thank you, but so are you.” Sonia pinched Chihiro’s cheek gently. “I burn in the sunlight, The kids I went to school with used to call me ‘Princess lobster’. So I try to avoid exposing myself to the sun.”

Chihiro blushed at the compliment and looked back down.

“I’m super self conscious about my weight.” Hina spoke up next. “I’m always weighing myself. I used to get teased for how many sweets I eat, my friends told me I was going to end up alone because no one would be able to look at me.”

“Hina, You’re gorgeous. You don’t have to worry about your weight!” Chihiro frowned.

“I used to get made fun of because I had braces when I was younger.” Sayaka shared. “They said I’d never be a singer because the metal in my braces would mess with the recording equipment.”

“Do I even need to say what I’m self conscious about?” Hiyoko sulked, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m short.”

Mahiru put her hand on Hiyoko’s shoulder. “You’ll hit a growth spurt someday.” She teased. “People called me a boy growing up.”

“I-I-I’ve al-always been s-s-s-super c-c-clumsy. People h-h-have always ma-made fun o-of me for It.” Mikan said softly.

“Of course they have, You’re a walking pile of pig barf!” Hiyoko snapped.

“Aah! I’m sorry!” Mikan cried.

Mahiru shoved her hand over Hiyoko’s mouth and pulled her into her lap to keep her contained. She sighed. Welp, so much for her being kind…

“People I went to school with used to accuse me of stuffing my bra, and constantly harassed me because of my home life.” Akane said quietly.

“I was feared, I was told I had monster eyes. Most kids avoided me.” Peko chimed In.

Kyoko looked down at her gloved hands then back up at Chihiro. “I think my insecurity should be obvious…”

“I got made fun of for loving video games. And I’ve got some pudge.” Chiaki poked her stomach.

After a moment of silence the girls looked at Sakura, who gave a hesitant sigh. “Do I need to say It?”

“Yes.” All except for Chihiro said in unison.

Sakura sighed again. “I get called ogre. People call me a freak or abomination. When I started bulking up, people told me that I looked better before and I lost a lot of friends because they were embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“Remind me to smack Hiro and Hifumi when I see them next.” Hina said quietly.

“Hiro doesn’t mean any harm by It.” she waved her off.

Hearing their friends being open about their insecurities made them feel a little better about opening up.

“Um…” Chihiro kept staring at the floor. “Kids I went to school with knew me when I Identified as a boy… and the first day I went to school in a dress, I got beat up and made fun of. Since then, I’ve been afraid to wear dresses… N-Not that skirts are much different… I’m just kind of traumatized by them.”

“Chihiro, You are adorable and beautiful.” Hina smiled warmly.

“Trust me, If anyone comes near you to beat you up or make fun of you… they’ll have a lot of people to get through first.” Chiaki added.

“You are one of a kind, don’t let people like that ruin something for you.” Sakura said gently.

Hina side eyed her, receiving a quiet; ‘shut up’ In response.

Chihiro sniffled, wiping their eyes. “Th-Thanks guys…”

“If you don’t want to try on the dress, We respect your comfort zone. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Mahiru put a hand on their shoulder reassuringly.

They looked at the dress In Sonia’s lap, then back up at the girls. “No… I… I want to try It on.”

“Are you sure?” Sonia asked.

They nodded, more sure this time. “You’re right. I need to learn not to take things to heart so much. Everyone has something they don’t like about themselves, even the people who picked on you.”

“That’s exactly right.” Kyoko nodded with a faint smile.

Chihiro took the dress from Sonia and stood up, they were about to head to the dressing room but they were stopped by Sakura, who handed them the matching sweater she found for the dress.

The enby gave her a smile before taking the article of clothing and retreating to the closed room with a new pep in their step.

A few minutes passed by, and something had occurred to Mahiru. “Wait a minute, Ibuki? You never said what you were made fun of for.”

Ibuki looked up at the red head, previously she had been drawing shapes on the floor with her finger waiting for Chihiro to come out. “Oh, Ibuki didn’t?”

“No, You didn’t.” Chiaki confirmed, eyeing the musician.

“Welllll…” Ibuki looked away sheepishly.

“Were you not bullied?” Sonia asked.

“N-No. Ibuki was bullied.” She sighed. “Ibuki was made fun of for the way she talks In the third person. Also the way she dressed.”

“I think It’s… endearing.” Sayaka smiled.

“Ibuki didn’t mention It because Ibuki didn’t want to be reassured or complimented.” She smiled shyly, tapping her index fingers together. “Ibuki doesn’t know how to take compliments…”

“I understand that.” Sakura responded.

Hina, again, side eyed her best friend. “I will hype you up and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Nothing huh?” She didn’t even bother looking at Hina, she blindly squeezed at the swimmer’s side, making her squeak and giggle as she twitched away.

“Come to think of it…” Kyoko hummed, glancing over at Celeste. “You didn’t say anything either.”

“That Is because there Is nothing I was made fun of for.” Celeste smiled, closing her eyes as she did.

Hmm… doubtful.

Chiaki looked at the wall clock. “Chihiro’s been In there a while… I think someone should go check on them.”

Before anyone else could volunteer, surprisingly, Hiyoko was on her feet. “I’ll do it.” with that she disappeared into the back room as well.

Mahiru blinked in surprise. “Should I go with her?”

No one got the chance to answer before Hiyoko came back out, Chihiro In tow.

The Traditional dancer stepped aside so the girls could see Chihiro, they were absolutely radiating happiness. “S-Sorry, I kind of froze up… How do I look?”

“Ohmigosh, Chi you look so cute!!” Hina squealed.

“That dress looks like It was made for you, You look so pretty!” Sonia beamed, stars practically in her eyes.

The Programmer giggled and twirled around in the dress happily.

The other girls quickly got over their surprise and flooded Chihiro with compliments. (even Kyoko and Celeste complimented them, shockingly.)

The rest of the boutique visit hit different for the group, they felt a lot lighter and closer than before.

Sayaka and Ibuki had decided to just coordinate colors, that way they could both wear something they wanted to wear.

Hina and Sakura found a few swimsuits they liked.

Chihiro got a bunch of different dresses and had a mini fashion show with Hiyoko, Mahiru, and Chiaki.

Right then.

Time to go find the boys and check out the spa...