#i love when he poses and laughs to his unit

[deadscell]

“you died” screen except it’s major ocelot coming to roll over your body to get his red beret back, as his unit laugh obnoxiously because he managed to ricochet the bullet underneath a rock at you.

[eufezco]

THE MUSE

Benedict needs to practice female form. Naked female form. And who better to help him than his lifelong friend?

Benedict x fem!reader (smut with plot, friends to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

Benedict didn't know how to ask you.

You had been friends for a long time, your families were practically one. Always so united, your mamas took walks every afternoon, gossiping about the ton and your fathers had been friends since childhood. You and Benedict were bound to meet.

You and he grew up together. You were friends with his siblings, you had held sleepovers with his sisters and won cricket matches against his brothers. Lady Violet Bridgerton loved you like a daughter and your mother loved Benedict like a son.

But your friendship with him had always been special.

When you were twelve, you ran away together to camp on the riverbank, just because Benedict wanted to draw the moon reflecting in the water at night. The following year, despite the scolding you received for your river adventure, you and Benedict sneaked onto private land just to pluck a few petals from the summer sunflowers to get him the perfect shade of yellow.

You and Benedict were very close. Of course, there had always been rumors about what kind of relationship you two had and that Lady Whistledown had only added more fuel to the fire writing about you two in her pamphlets. You and him never cared about that, and neither your families but it was true that you two have had to face some uncomfortable conversations with them about it.

That's why Benedict didn't know how to ask you. You had a lot of trust in each other, you had always supported his artistic vocation but perhaps this was too much.

—Oh, thank God you've come. I am in need of a model —. It was the first thing Benedict said to you when you entered his studio. The maid closed the door behind you, leaving you alone with him. Thank goodness the Bridgertons' service was very discreet, if anyone found out that you and him were alone in a room it would cause quite a scandal.

—Good evening to you too, Benedict.

—My apologies. Good evening —. He leaned to kiss your cheek.— I need a model —. He let you know one more time.

—How have you been? Very stressed from what I can tell —. You tried to have a normal conversation with him before you paid attention to what he required.

—Indeed.

You sighed. —Well, what is it? I thought we were going for a walk.

He nodded. —We can go outside later. But I need to get this done by tomorrow and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

—And...?

—I need practice female form.

You slowly nodded. You were aware that Benedict had been recently attending this art academy, you were happy that he was finally able to pursue his passion and you couldn't deny that within the characteristic desperation of the artists, he looked very attractive. Benedict's hair was a mess, his white shirt was half-open, his sleeves were rolled up. He would never have allowed himself be seen in society like that and you were grateful because otherwise he would have all the girls after him.

—And you want me to...?

—Pose for me.

You weren't quite sure how to do it but it seemed easy and fun. All the times he had drawn you, he had done it when you were distracted, reading, having tea with his sisters... The pencil moved effortlessly across the paper when he saw you laughing with Daphne or playing with the cards that Colin had brought back from his trip to Spain. He was already too embarrassed to admit each time he drew you and Anthony teased him by saying that if he didn't propose to you, he would show you his drawings, and Benedict's heart skipped a beat because he knew that his older brother was not known for being a joker.

Benedict still didn't know how he was going to ask you, maybe it was better to just let it out.

—And what shall I do? Just stand here? Like this? —You laughed and made a dramatic pose like the ones you saw in the paintings in the gallery you visited together.

—I need you to ...

Benedict swallowed nervously. He looked down at your dress and then directly into your eyes. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. You also looked at your dress to see if there was something wrong with it.

—Benedict I don't think I understand what you are trying to say—

—I need to practice naked female form.

Benedict immediately noticed your horrified face. He wanted to go back seconds ago when he hadn't even asked but if it wasn't you, who would it be? —I will not draw your face. No one will know it is you. It will be purely professional, I just need a few minutes.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and decided to trust him when he said that it would be for professional purposes only. The unfinished nude sketches that made your cheeks burn when you saw them as you entered his studio showed you that Benedict found no inspiration in the bodies of the academy models. After a nervous swallowing, you nodded and Benedict's face lit up. He hugged you but you didn't have time to hug him back because he quickly went to prepare the canvas.

—Is the door locked? —You asked him as you shed the little jacket that covered your shoulders along with your gloves. Benedict rushed off to lock it and before he returned to his position behind the canvas. You called his name and gulped, your hands failing in their attempts to unzip your own dress. —May I please get some help?

—Oh, yes, of course. My apologies.

Benedict stood behind you, his fingers brushing the skin on your back as he began to slowly unzip it until the dress slid down your body and fell at your feet. Benedict felt like he had to look away, as if in a few seconds you would not be completely exposed to his eyes. He offered you his hand to help you get up on a small pedestal that he had in his studio. Once you got rid of your underwear, you felt vulnerable but not as vulnerable as when Benedict ran his eyes over your body from his position and with the paintbrush already in his hand.

He let out all the air he had in his lungs, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Benedict could not deny that he had imagined it on many occasions, but reality far surpassed his imagination.

—What... What should I do, Benedict? —You hugged yourself.

—Put your arms down and stand like that. You look perfect, darling.

Your cheeks burned after that. You did as he said. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration as his eyes went from the canvas to you and back to the canvas. Benedict asked you to turn around and he squeezed his eyes tightly after seeing your bare ass. Purely professional, this was purely professional, he had to remind himself.

Benedict grabbed a wooden chair and walked over to you. Your heart skipped a beat once he was so close to your naked body and he felt the exact same. He placed the chair next to you and invited you to sit on it. He nodded slowly when you did, focusing on the new position of your body. Benedict went back behind the canvas and made a few sketches.

He cleared his throat. —Would it be possible if you... Could you spread your legs?

Your cheeks grew hot and you squeezed your thighs together.

The knot you had in your stomach got tighter and you felt your chest rise and fall slowly thanks to your deep breathing. You straightened your back in the chair and you did as Benedict asked. You felt the air of the room caressing you in that warm and wet area and he held his breath, his chest puffing out as your legs slowly opened for him.

—You are beautiful, darling. Do not be ashamed —. Every new inch he discovered of your body made you look more perfect in his eyes. It was as nice to see you as it was to paint you.

Your cheeks grew even hotter but this time it wasn't just your cheeks, your whole body was in flames starting with the area between your legs that was so exposed to his eyes.

—Could we try another position?

You nodded, relieved, you were sure it was painfully obvious the way you had gotten wet and you just hoped he was busy enough to not notice.

He dropped the paintbrush and got up from the stool on which he was sitting. Benedict felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter with each step he took closer to your naked body. You moved in the chair out of nervousness. Benedict leaned slightly over you. —May I? —He asked before touching your leg. His voice made you shiver, he was so close, you felt his hand brush against the skin of your thigh. You nodded and looked up at him while he repositioned your leg. Benedict's eyes meet yours, so helpless, his lifelong friend, was that innocence in your eyes, or was that...?

Lust.

Your hand grabbed the back of Benedict's head and pressed his lips against yours. His eyes widened in surprise but immediately after, his hands went to cup your cheeks as he fell to his knees in front of you. You opened your legs so he could place himself between them and be closer to you. The shameless hands of your friend traveled down your neck until they reached your breasts. You moaned against his mouth once he gave them a gentle squeeze, the soft palm of his hand brushing against your nipples.

Benedict left a trail of soft kisses from your cheeks to your collarbones and your breasts. He took one in his mouth as his hand played with the other, his tongue moving in circles around your nipple and sucking on it at the same time. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted to let out soft moans when Benedict's teeth brushed your sensitive nipple.

He let go with a pop sound and watched you gasp for air. Benedict placed his hands on the inside of your thighs and caressed your skin there before he slowly pushed them to open even further. His hands prepared you for him, his eyes asked for your permission. You nodded and Benedict flashed you a smile, that was all he needed. He peppered your thighs with kisses, taking small bites and kissing your sore skin afterwards. Your breathing deepened as his mouth got closer to where you needed him the most. He was so close he could smell you and oh Lord, his dick got hard as a rock at that moment.

You took a sharp breath when he licked from your entrance to your clit and savored your juices in his mouth. The image was completely sinful, his blue eyes were locked on you while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves, his hands forced your legs to stay open for him. Your head was thrown back, your mouth was open in a perfect "O" form, your fingers digging into his scalp. Once he noticed the desperation in the way your hips rolled against his mouth, two of his fingers entered you easily. You stifled a loud moan, throwing a hand over your mouth.

Benedict hummed, sending vibrations to your clit.

—Talk to me. How does this feel? —He required.

—So good. It feels... —You bit down your lower lip, his fingers sank deeper. —It feels like heaven.

He was satisfied with your answer.

Benedict fucked you with his fingers until you had to grab his wrist to get him to stop, it was too much. Your legs closed around his head but his lips were still attached to your clit and he didn't stop until he heard how your moans turned into whines and cries, not until he noticed how your back arched off the chair and your chest rose and fell uncontrolled thanks to your panting. Benedict didn't stop, not until he felt how your pussy was clenching so hard that almost pushed his fingers out of you and he heard you moan his name one last time as your grip on his hair tightened.

He gave you all the time you needed to catch your breath, kissing your legs and intertwining his fingers with yours while you came down from your high. Benedict's blue eyes were locked on you making every effort to later recall every single part of you.

—How are you feeling, darling? —Benedict stood on his feet and held your hands so that you would stand up as well. Before you could answer his question, you both realized how your legs were shaking and laughed. At the same time, you felt Benedict's grip on your hands grow stronger to keep you from falling.

Benedict leaned in and kissed your lips in the sweetest possible way. The tickling sensation in your body that you felt when you were naked in front of him had turned into a different kind of tickling, now focused on your stomach. It was so familiar, you had felt it so many times when you looked at him but now, with his lips on yours and his hands treating you with so much affection and care, it was different.

You could confirm that it was not only lust but also love.

You hummed against his lips. —Wait, did you finish your drawing?

Benedict shook his head. —But, please, do not worry about that. I will help you get dressed —. You frowned confused and he gave a quick kiss to your lips so, as he had told you, you would not worry. —I can finish later. There's no way I'm forgetting your body, my dear.

[currently-reading-a-book]

Faux Love, Real Hearts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer must pose as a couple for a mission. However, one question remains: why does he keep calling you 'love'?

Genre: smut

Warning: talking about a criminal case, making out, fake dating (let me know if I forgot something)

Word Count: 882 words

A/N: As always, any criticism is very welcome. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. English is not my first language. 

Anyway, enjoy :)

✧ 🎀 -------------------------------------------------------------- 🎀 ✧

You blushed yesterday, you blushed today and you most definitely will blush tomorrow. You simply will never get used to his soft voice whispering: “Sorry, love.” 

 As he calmly brushes past you. You will never get used to his rough hands brushing against your skin from time to time. You will never get used to his soft backrubs or his light kisses against your forehead. Perhaps it’s better this way. If you’re used to his permanent presence your heart would break into two when this mission ends. When all of this ends. Every day you’re hoping that the mission is continued another day, just to be with him. And for a certain time, it did work; until it didn’t anymore.

For more than a year, you have been working in the Behavioral Unit (BAU) department of the FBI. As an aspiring Agent, you are willing to do anything to save people. The team welcomed you warmly, always helping you where they could since you were the youngest member. You feel safe because you know they will always have your back. Yet nothing could have prepared you for your latest mission. The mission where you and Spencer had to fake a romantic relationship. Spencer was a good boyfriend; a fake one sadly.

This unsub is targeting young couples, so the team decided you and Spencer would be the best ones to fit his victimology. Quickly you move into a fake house that isn’t yours; drive a fake car and act like a fake couple deeply in love with each other.

“Are you ready to go to bed, darling?”, shouted Spencer down from your shared bedroom.

It was a comfortable room with a carpeted floor and a large king-size bed. Oh, how you loved this bed; nevertheless, nothing compares to sleeping beside Spencer. Your sleep quality improving enormously. Maybe Spencer has to do with it...

Without answering you went up, already in your pyjamas ready to get a good night’s sleep in. Today you search through lots of recordings in hopes of finding a lead in the case; Spencer of course helping you, but how could anybody read faster than Reid himself? You collapse onto the bed, feeling utterly exhausted. The slender nerdy boy, with his thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, is deeply engrossed in his book. Every now and then, he looks up from his reading, his bright eyes shining with a gentle smile that warms your heart.

“You must be absolutely tired, love.”

“God, yeah,” you laugh awkwardly. A strange silence surrounded them.

“Come here,” he opened his arms gesturing her to come closer. 

She found herself in a state of confusion, uncertain of what to do next. As she lay there, she couldn't help but feel drawn towards Reid's comforting presence. She knew that cuddling with him would be unprofessional, but his warm embrace felt like a safe haven that she longed to be in. The conflicting thoughts in her mind left her feeling torn and indecisive, so she stayed where she was.

Since she didn’t come closer, he decided to drew closer to her. His hot breath tickled her neck as he whispered against her ears sending shivers down her spine: "You know we have to act like a real couple, you want to catch this unsub, don’t you?”  

She gulped silently. Of course, she wanted to catch this motherfucker who’s been killing around D.C., however, all she could think right now was how close Spencer was and how his hot breath felt amazing against her neck. 

“Spencer…,” was the only thing she could whisper back.

His hands grip her waist lovingly, bringing her closer to him.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he murmured against her hair, kissing the top of her head softly.

Another gulp. Feeling hot all over her body, you tried to think a straight thought, but how can you think rationally when a hot FBI agent's body is nearly pressed against yours? Particularly Spencers hot body.

“Kiss me, Spencer.”

Without a second of hesitation, he crashed his lips against yours. Like a starved man, his kiss was impatient and rough, in contrast to the delicate touch of his hands all over your body. You could feel his warm big hands exploring every inch of your body. Oh, how good it felt.

“Fuck, I wanted to do this since day one,” he cursed against your lips before softly biting them. His tongue teased your lips, wanting to enter your mouth. Gently you open your lips and your and his tongue dance together. His soft lips moved their way down to your jaw, then your neck where they stayed for a bit, nibbling at your flesh. You reached for his curls, gripping them which he responded with a moan. 

“If I had to act like this stupid fake couple thing again I would absolutely, do it, just to taste your sweet lips, love.” He smiled against your neck.

“Wait,” you pushed him a bit away from you, “you don’t enjoy this fake dating?”

He took a deep breath. Panic started washing over you. Of course, he wouldn't like your back, what do you think? 

"No". His angelic voice brought you back from your negative thoughts: “I would like more if we were dating real.”

[ssa-dado]

0 - Symposium, definitely not Platonic love.

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader (I hope I tagged it correctly woops)

No use of Y/N!

Summary: Hotch, after seeing you reading a book on the jet, picks it up out of curiosity. Late-night texts with you evolve from work to teasing philosophical banter about love, deepening your connection. Through this dialogue, Hotch reflects on both philosophy and his feelings for you, as the conversation subtly flirts with deeper emotions.

Genre: fluff, sapiosexual fluff.

Warnings: Implied alcohol consumption ; Reader and Hotch being completely blind yet marvellously insightful ; Philosophical discussions, I tried my best to make them as user friendly as possible ; Sir kink if you squint, although it's not intended in that way at all ; The story is set around season 3/4 before the team found out about Strauss' drinking problem, I feel so bad anyways.

Word Count: 2.9k

Dado's Corner: be kind this is my first ever Hotch fic and overall first fic I've written in English (yes, I indeed am a real Italian stallion) so there might be some mistakes, bear with me.

next part - set when they first ever met.

Hotch sits on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows across his living room, the house is so quiet, he briefly interrupts his late night reading session as he swears he can almost hear Jack’s light breathing from across the house. Those sweet thoughts, mixed up with the muffled night traffic almost lullabies him to sleep while the weight of another long week at the BAU settles into his bones.

His eyes immediately gaze down to his hands, firming holding opened the slim book: Symposium by Plato—a book he wouldn’t normally pick up on his own. The corners of his mouth quickly turn up as he recalls how he’d seen you reading it on the jet a few cases ago, sitting cozily and crossing your legs alone in a seat in front of him, strategically shielded from the table seats occupied by playing the rest of the team, including himself, busingly playing cards.

Every now and then his gaze automatically lingered on your stillness, the only movements coming from the swift air you moved while turning the page or adjusting your pose to be more comfortable, this sight intoxicated him. Your focus was so intense you didn’t even flinch at Derek standing up from his seat and leaning forward, while his hands gravitated towards the doctor’s bare neck after the latter just killed him off the game because oblivious of yet another variation they all added so it would make it easier to beat Reid. An attempt that ended tragically.

In that abrupt mess - from JJ laughing at the ironic hilarity to Reid using the highest-pitched voice his vocal chords could ever produce to defend himself from Derek's accusation of cheating - Hotch only remembers how your statuesque figure slowly had revived itself again as you glanced up to make sure no harm was done to the doctor. You made eye contact with Hotch and and you immersed yourself back to the slim book as soon the Unit Chief signed you not to worry and that he would tackle the situation himself. In a matter of fractions of seconds all your surroundings had disappeared again.

As soon as the Unit Chief was back into his office, curiously reminiscing about your hypnotic serenity, he’d ordered a copy.

Now, as in the comfort of his living room slowly turns the pages, his phone vibrates with a message from you awakening him from his trance, immediately wonders why you would message him so late at night.

“Hotch, quick question: about the profile for the Winger case—should we revise the victimology section?"

…Of course, he almost started to hate how his role as Unit Chief always seemed to ruin his brief-lasting delusions.

He robotically types a response, a straightforward answer to your work-related question but as he presses send, his gaze lingers on the book in his hands. There’s somehow a temptation on his side to share the weird coincidence, to see how you might react.

"Good catch. I’ll review it tomorrow.” He writes.

“Wow that was quick, I didn’t expect you to still be up, did I interrupt your late night reading session?”

He quicky blushes, how could you know him so well?!

“You did. Don’t worry about it. By the way, I’m reading Symposium tonight." He blurts out

There’s a pause, and he can visualize your surprised reaction, how the sight of your smile would always warm his heart; almost immediately, his phone buzzes again.

"Wait, really, Symposium?!”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He wouldn’t smile so much if you were standing in front of him, thankfully, the shield of communicating through texts allowed him to put down his.

You continue. “Not to raise your expectations too much, but that’s my all-time favorite book, just so you know!"

He swears he can hear the intonation of your voice reading that text, visualizing how you would face your palms towards him and raise your shoulders, trying to keep that non-chalant expression of yours and not perk a soft smile to him.

Entitled by that fateful coincidence, Hotch feels brave enough to decide to tease you - just a little - hoping the text doesn't sound that much so out of character for him as much as it does in his head, although he shrugs, sending it before he starts overthinking it.

“Your all-time favorite? A book about love? I should’ve known."

He pauses, imagining you raising an eyebrow, maybe with that knowing smile you wear when he’s teasing you. And even though he’s playing it off as a joke, part of him can completely see how you, could actually have a natural flare for romance - even if you never openly admit it and always tried the best you could to suppress that side of yours.

He decides to blame it on the years spent at the BAU when it was just the two of you along with Rossi and Gideon; At how you were recruited as soon as you turned 21, while the youngest person you worked with on the team and could relate to the most was Hotch himself, even if he was late in his Jesus year.

He quickly remembers how you would always overwork yourself - you both still do nowadays, that's why you're having a conversation at past 2 AM - He could see how you were always trying to prove your worth more to yourself rather than to your co-workers or even to the sketchy police officers and detectives somehow still stuck in the 1400s.

He had always admired you for your intelligence and acute instincts, and so does your nowadays team, immediately entrusting you with the nickname of "Prehistoric Reid" only because because you had started working at the BAU back when they still didn't provide the jet so you all had to move using the trains. Even if you already have 9 years of experience in the field, yet you were the 2nd youngest - still no eidetic memory though - this desire to always prove yourself never fully went away. One day you were the youngest, the other they assume someone way more genius than you were so you can't stand out anymore for merely for your intelligence.

You finally respond: "Well, it’s more than just a book about love. It’s actually quite of a concrete example of Plato’s take on philosophy - the whole thing told through dialogues, like a discussion among friends. But I won’t bore you with all the technicalities"

Hotch chuckles softly, picturing you downplaying your passion, trying not to sound too academic. What you don’t know is that he could listen to you talk about philosophy for hours - especially tonight, about philosophy’s take on love, no less. He doesn’t dares to say that, though.

"I wouldn’t say you’re boring me. In fact, I’m starting to see the appeal. But really, all-time favorite?"

He leans back into the couch, waiting for your reply.

You told him back when you first met that your first ever degree was in philosophy, and now recalling that specific information he's been wondering why exactly a barely-reaching-100-pages-long book holds such a special place for you, out of all the others he’s seen you passionately read during the years. A part of him is genuinely curious, the other part is trying to stretch as much as possible this conversation with you.

"Absolutely. I mean, think about it: a bunch of people crashing at their friend's house, sitting around, getting drunk, each giving their take on love while they feast at a banquet." You continued. "It’s almost like when we’re at Rossi’s, except instead of love, we’re all talking about criminology and cases while stuffing ourselves with his Italo-American dishes".

An image of Rossi pouring wine wearing an ancient greek costume - fake long white beard included - while everyone at the table delves into some intricate discussion about a case flashes through his mind, Hotch immediately chuckles at the comparison. He's sure you've imagined the exact thing too and he can almost hear you suggest hosting a real Symposium next time, his profiling skills never fail him as soon his phone buzzes again.

"Imagine if we recreated the Symposium at Rossi’s. Each of us giving our take on love. I can almost hear Reid's speech delving into the psychology of affection and its variations throughout the various cultures"

Quick on his chubby fingers, after laughing at the scenario, he types the continuation "In stark opposite, Garcia would follow him and pull out her tarot cards and read each of our birth charts, telling us who we're most compatible with based on our stars alignements"

While waiting for you, he stands up and makes his way towards his home bar, reaching for the scotch bottle, swiftly filling up his glass, silently blessing Plato for making this the longest light-hearted conversation you haven’t had in years. You were both either too focused on your work or actively suppressing your romantic feelings and ignoring each other. After all this time he would almost forget how the two of you were first and foremost very good friends. As the liquid burns the back of his throat, his phone buzzes again.

"That's actually really fascinating yet so intimidating, what about Rossi though? Of course he's hosting all of us but I feel he would totally blurt out some old-scool stuff he only understands. I know I'm not the only one who doesn't get his references, but I really feel bad whenever I don't."

He almost chokes himself after your other reply

"So, big boss, have I convinced you with giving us the free week-end or should I extend the invite our lovely friend Strauss? I fear that after a few glasses of Rossi’s wine all that angst towards you might turn into some ol' sweet love. I would watch out if I were you, Unit Chief"

You loved poking fun at him using his rank; It all started a few years ago to jokingly shrug away the awkwardness caused from how the co-worker you always used to joke around, spend the nights together in the same room, sharing your theories about the unsub and building up the profile with suddenly turned into your superior. As much as you both didn't want to admit it, something in your relationship had shifted since this happened, not to mention to the fact that it's much more awkward to admit to your boss you've been having a crush on your him for almost 9 years rather than to your co-worker.

Now Hotch, encouraged by the slight booze, further teases you "And what do you think my take on love would be?"

This was the closest he could ever come to flirting with you, walking on that fine line and never pushing himself further. For Hotch, the gesture of basically asking you to profile him in a moment in which he was so vulnerable, breaking his golden rule of "never profile your coworkers" was the most romantic declaration of love he could ever think that of.

Your text brings him back down to Earth:

"Hmm, I imagine you’d give a thoughtful, analytical speech something with a lot of depth but surprisingly subtly humorous. You would wait for everyone to finish their own speech so you would be last, acknowledging all of us completely busted, only because you have self-control."

You feel the need to add something else, even if you know already he would read into it, at the way how you reserved a mere sentence to describe that scenario involving your teammates. On the contrary, you could write a whole book about him and all his hypothetical remarks, meticulously poiting out every small gesture or expression - or the lack of - of him. Since truth lies in the middle, you decide to dedicate him only another lengthy paragraph.

"You would start with something along the lines of ‘Love is a complex system of emotional responses influenced by myriad factors…’ as if you were delivering a profile, definitely using that same tone as well. You’d probably have us all analyzing every possible nuance and you enjoy watching us slobber, trying to quickly sober up to keep up with your impeccable remarks. Of course we would miserably fail at being analytical whatsoever, but you love whenever we make a fool out of ourselves."

He chuckles "You do know me too well"

He probably hints at the possibilty of having a weekend off with his next text "And since now you're making me think I might have to start prepare my speech about love, it wouldn't hurt to also include a few practical applications for the BAU team’s dynamics."

Ha. You wish he showed you what those practical applications consisted of. Hotch although interrupts even the possibility of recycling this genius quick witted remark with him, making sure to replace yourself with his archenemy section chief Erin Strauss, to not weird him out.

"Jokes apart, your take on love would be fascinating, I'm looking forward to hear it", he says.

"Only if you’re ready for philosophical debates after a few glasses of wine. Though, I’ll warn you - I take my Plato very seriously."

Hotch smiles at that, apparently he took his Plato quite seriously as well. What you're not aware at all is that the late-night session of Symposium you had interrupted wasn't his first.

"I’ll keep that in mind. But honestly, I’ve been finding parts of it… enlightening."

He had actually finished it for the first time less than a hour before you texted. What you actually interrupted was Hotch helplessly going back through certain passages that reminded him of you. He hypothesises your take on the subject of love, trying to gauge how you view it without revealing feelings he’s kept carefully hidden for a long time.

"Enlightening, huh? So you’ve gotten to the part where Socrates explains how love makes us better people?"

Hotch remembers that part well enough, but he hasn’t revealed just how deeply he’s been thinking about it - how, in his own quiet way, he’s been trying to connect those ideas to his life, and to you, so he chooses his next words carefully.

“Not yet." He lies, knowing that the part you appointed to would only come much later in the book "But I’m guessing you’ve got some thoughts on that?"

He imagines you smiling on the other end, maybe a little amused at how he’s obviously deflecting, although you don’t press him, but your next reply doesn't lack a subtle challenge.

"I do. But I think you'd find it pretty relevant, Hotch. Phaedrus talks about how lovers fight better together - how love gives them courage."

He quickly smirks and reminds himself how much he loves when you put him in the corner with the choice of your words, there was no way he could deflect that, since Phaedrus’s speech comes first, he couldn't say he hadn't read that yet.

Hotch's eyes flicker toward the book again, remembering Phaedrus’s discourse: the idea that love could make people fight harder, be stronger… it strikes a chord, reminding him of the strength he’s seen in you, in the unique way you both handle the intense challenges of your work when paired up together. He types, his words more deliberate now.

"Phaedrus might be onto something. Love as a motivator, as a way to push people to be better. What about you? Do you see it that way?"

There’s a slight pause before your next message, and he can almost sense your careful consideration, you’ve never been one to answer these kinds of questions lightly.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, love isn’t just about being close to someone, it’s about making each other better, pushing each other forward. But that is not easy at all. It takes patience, discipline… and maybe a bit of faith."

Hotch’s expression softens as he reads your words. He admires your thoughtfulness, your ability to cut straight to the heart of something that most people shy away from. He finds himself thinking about how true those words are, how they seem to apply not only to love, but to the way both of you approach life and work. He types slowly, his words carefully chosen.

"Patience, discipline, and faith. Sounds a lot like what we do every day, maybe we’re already living it."

As he sends the message, he sets the phone down beside him and glances at the book again. He’s aware of the irony - that for all the deflecting, all the jokes, he’s learning more about you through this conversation than he would have if he had simply asked.

The words of Plato, the discussions on love, seem to take on a new meaning - one that feels personal, one that makes him wonder if he’s been missing something between the lines all along.

"You know, this conversation feels a bit like Socratic dialogue. Just without the wine. Maybe I’m learning about love through you and Plato’s dialogues in a way Socrates might’ve appreciated."

He sends the message, a small smirk on his face. He knows how much you would appreciate the unexpected extra philosophical remark about Socrates even if he knows little to nothing about him apart from that his idea of love in Plato's book. To impress you he totally forgets how only just a few moments before he stated he hasn’t read his discourse yet. A few moments later, your reply comes through.

“No way! Aaron Hotchner now delves into the Socratic dialectics?!"

Now you smell the lie so to make sure you trick him with the next text "Well, maybe you should read something by Socrates next, he was quite the conversationalist, you would rely a lot to him, especially after all of this philosophical banter"

"Any recommendations?" He naively takes the bait

"That’s the thing, Unit Chief - Socrates didn’t write anything. He relied on his students to record his thoughts. It’s all oral and dialectical. The dialogues are his legacy, not written works, maybe that’s why it’s such a rich experience—like having an ongoing conversation with someone through the ages."

Hotch leans back, wishing these moments would linger forever, hoping the words you exchanged could be eternal just like those exchanged by the men he was reading about, now printed with black ink on the paper resting in his hands. He's surprised he doesn’t feel the tiredness of the week anymore or neither the need to sleep. Damn, he has so much energy he's sure he could run a whole marathon, but only if you’re out there watching him.

"Well, if our conversations end up like Plato’s dialogues, I think I’m in for a rewarding challenge. Just don’t make me drink too much wine before our next discussion."

"Unit Chief I thought you had self-control and didn't need to be babied like us mortals"

His phone buzzes with another message from you.

“Sorry if I ask, I’m curious - what got you interested in Symposium all of a sudden? I didn’t think philosophy was your usual reading material."

Hotch takes a moment to think, considering how to respond without revealing too much.

"You know, it’s funny. I saw you reading it a while back and it piqued my interest. I guess I wanted to see what you found so engaging about it. And honestly, I’m finding it pretty compelling - there’s a lot more depth to it than I expected."

His cheeks turn into a light shade of pink at your last response. "Unit Chief, do you believe you might need some professional insights on that speech you needed so urgently to write?"

"I definitely might need a hand - if I'm not wrong you do have a philosophy degree, don't you?"

Symposium might just become Aaron Hotchner's all-time-favourite book as well, after all.

[stevie-petey]

episode two: trick or treat, freak

 “Why do you only ever care about me when I’m some kicked fucking puppy?” Steve’s words are vicious, and you flinch at his tone. “You know that’s not true,” “It’s not?” He scoffs at you. “Then explain what happened this summer.” “I…” You can’t.  Steve sees your reluctance to say anything and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Some real fucking friend you were.”

Summary: you and nancy have a bonding session in the library (kinda hot tbh), billy gives jonathan and steve a common cause to unite on: Protect Y/N, you're a chauffeur to a very sad steve harrington, and dustin uses will's trauma to his advantage.

Rating: general, slight cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, slight sexual harassment (billy corners reader and is gross), cursing, alcohol

Words: 7.9k

Before you swing in: hello ! new chapter, we've arrived at halloween !! i finally get to have a fun authors note comment: i crashed my car lol. i'm fine tho and i hope yall enjoy and like what ive done and changed a bit with this episode. i had fun coming up with costume ideas for the reader, i think the character fits her well :) and before i go: i start school next week, so updates will def be coming a bit slower after this. anyways, happy reading !

-

The Henderson house is pure chaos morning of Halloween. 

Dustin is running around the house, screaming about how his costume has to be absolutely perfect and that if you don’t hurry up with the jack-o-lantern pancakes then he’s going to just leave without eating breakfast. Meanwhile your mother is running after him, straightening his suit and tidying his hair. 

“The pancakes are almost done, my god.” You flip the last pancake, but in your rush the jack-o-lantern’s smile turns into more of a grimace, but hey, food is food. You quickly set Dustin’s plate down on the table and practically shove him into the seat. 

“Eat.”

“But my proton blaster–”

“Is on the steps, I’ll grab it. Eat, I want pictures with you.” You kiss the top of your brother’s head and then run over to grab his costume’s prop. 

“I’m thirteen now, I don’t need my sister doting on me–” Dustin complains, but then his eyes land on the mini Reese’s Pieces you’ve decorated his pancakes with and quickly changes his tone. “Oh! Candies! Yummy!”

You laugh at him and bring his backpack over. The Ghostbusters matching costume idea that boys have planned for today makes you want to just sweep them all into your arms and kiss their tiny little faces. They may be getting older with crushes and angsty feelings, but they’re still the same nerdy little boys you met when you were twelve. 

Dustin wolfs down his pancakes and your mom prepares her camera. You woke up earlier than usual this morning specifically so that you could make Dustin’s annual Halloween pancakes and then take pictures of him with his costume on. As soon as he’s done eating, you and your mom whisk him towards the fireplace for pictures. 

“Oh, I want to see those pearls!” Your mother squeals as she takes a million pictures of Dustin. When he smiles, she loses her mind. “Yeah! Lovely, I love it!”

You’re just as ecstatic as your mom. “Who you gonna call Dustin?”

“Ghostbusters!” He sings along, holding up his proton blaster with an even wider smile on his face. 

It’s a happy morning. 

Dustin puts on a show as he poses for your mom, and you even join in for some. Sure, you aren’t in costume, but who knows how many more mornings like these you have left? Dustin is getting older, all the boys are, so you plan on cherishing these mornings for as long as possible. 

You and Dustin are giggling as you now stand back to back, him holding his blaster and you holding up finger guns, and your mom is taking multiple final pictures when Jonathan arrives. He knocks on the door before letting himself in. When he sees you and Dustin posing, he starts loudly belting the Ghostbusters song. 

“God, bee. At least let my coffee kick in before you subject me to your horrible singing.” You playfully groan, grabbing your own backpack and pancakes to eat on the road. 

Jonathan ignores your teasing and ruffles Dustin’s hair. “Nice costume, bud.”

Dustin, seemingly still holding a grudge against the guy after your conversation from last night, slaps his hand away and glares at him. “Don’t mess up the hair.”

Your brother proceeds to stare Jonathan down, gives him an “I’m watching you” gesture, and then walks out the front door without any further words. You, Jonathan, and your mom all stand in the living room in varying states of emotions. You’re trying not to laugh at your brother’s antics, your mom is happily looking at the photos she took, and Jonathan is standing there in complete confusion. 

“What was that about?” He asks you, slightly hurt by Dustin’s rebuff. 

“Shhh,” you hand him a plate of pancakes and then walk towards the front door. “Let’s get to school, bee.”

– 

At school, the mullet guy from yesterday finds you at your locker as soon as Jonathan has walked away. The two of you had been running behind schedule, so you’d told Jonathan to head to first period so at least he’d be on time while you tried to find your history textbook. 

As you’re digging through your locker, the mullet guy stalks up behind you. 

“I never got your name,” he says with a breathy voice, standing way too close behind you. 

You straighten your back, but don’t turn around. You know that if you do, the guy will only get a kick out of having your face close to his. “You never asked.”

“So there’s some sass to you underneath all that sweetness.” His breath hits the back of your neck and you shiver, but in a way that makes you feel dirty and unclean. 

“What do you want?” You ask the guy, your fingers wrapping around the textbook that you’ve finally found. If needed, you’re sure it’ll make a handy weapon. It’s only you and the guy in the hallway. Everyone else has holed up in class and you’re now regretting sending Jonathan away. You feel trapped, vulnerable, and you hate it. 

Mullet man chuckles deeply, his voice reverberating against your back. “Nothing yet. Just thought I’d introduce myself to such a pretty face.” 

You don’t say anything, your fingers only tighten around your textbook. If he gets any closer, you’ll swing. 

Though you can’t see him, you can feel his eyes flicker to your textbook and he lets out another cruel laugh. “Loosen up, sweetheart, I won’t hurt ya.” You don’t move, and he seems to get another kick out of this. “My name is Billy. Remember that for me, alright?”

Finally Billy steps away from you and you slowly release all the tension that’s built up within you. You still don’t turn around, he hasn’t left yet, but your hands are shaking a bit and you feel unsteady. 

“Would you do me a favor, Billy?” Your voice is steady, there’s no trace of the fear within you.

“I’m listening,” Billy is practically purring and you want to gag at how much his cockiness oozes around you. 

You turn, now finally facing him, and slam your textbook against Billy’s chest. “Learn some fucking personal space.” 

Billy’s only reaction is a smile, which only makes you more uncomfortable, but you refuse to show him this. Instead, you square your shoulders and walk towards your first class. You’ve dealt with assholes in the past; you’ve known Steve Harrington since you were twelve. But Billy is different. 

You’re not sure if you want to find out just how different he is from Steve. 

– 

Another small highlight of your school year so far has been your study sessions in the library with Nancy resuming. The two of you had drifted apart this summer, you just rarely ever saw the girl in between your hectic work schedule and her dates with Steve, but from the first day of junior she’s helped you with your math equations and you’ve helped her with her english essays. 

It’s a good trade off and you’ve enjoyed spending time with the girl. Unlike last year, Jonathan doesn’t join anymore. He can’t be too close with her now that she’s back with Steve. So, it’s just you and her for an hour every day during study hall. It’s nice, if you’re being honest.

Today though there’s something off with Nancy. 

She’s been tapping her pencil on the table for the last few minutes. Right before you can politely ask her to stop, the tip of the pencil snaps in half. She sighs. “Shit,” 

“There’s a sharpener over by the window,” you point towards the general direction. “Sharpen your pencil before these equations officially end my life.”

Nancy laughs, excusing herself and walks over to the sharpener. 

You focus back on your homework, the equations swimming around in your brain. It’s not that you’re necessarily bad at math, but you’re no whiz at it either. You get lost in the practice problems, erasing and re-erasing frequently, and you don’t realize just how long Nancy has been gone until she returns. She sits down, and you’re about to make a horrible joke about how stupid it is to find x, when you notice how shaken Nancy looks. 

“Woah, hey.” You set your pencil down and turn your attention to Nancy. “Are you okay? You look upset.” 

Nancy looks towards one of the library’s private study rooms and you see Steve’s retreating figure. You gather that something’s happened between them, but it confuses you because they’ve been nothing but lovey dovey ever since they got back together. What could possibly cause strife between them? 

“C’mon, you can talk to me. I’m known for my fantastic advice.” You probe again, and this time Nancy lets out a soft chuckle. 

“It’s… complicated.” 

“Take all the time you need. I’ve been stuck on question five for like, twenty minutes now. Any distractions are welcomed.” 

Now Nancy lets out a genuine laugh and you find yourself laughing as well. The storminess behind her eyes from earlier has lessened, she looks more relaxed now. Once she’s done laughing, she takes a deep breath and starts from the beginning. “Steve and I have been having dinner with Barb’s parents.”

When Barb’s name leaves Nancy’s lips, you feel your stomach twist with guilt. Had you known this would be about Barb, you wouldn’t have pestered Nancy so much into speaking. You know how much she misses her best friend still, no one blames her. 

“Well that sounds nice,” you try to comfort. “I’m sure they appreciate your company.”

Nancy bites her lip and looks away from you. “They wouldn’t if they knew Steve and I killed Barb.”

Shock washes over you. “Can I ask for some context?”

“Steve and I… When I forced Barb to come to his stupid party with me, we–we left her alone that night. By the pool…” Nancy’s voice cracks, and you grab her hand to encourage her to keep going. “We went upstairs to have sex, and Barb–she didn’t want me to leave her alone but I–I did and–”

You remember the photos Jonathan took last year, specifically the one where Barb had been sitting all by herself along the pool’s edge. Behind her had been a shadowy figure, a monster you soon would learn was from an alternate dimension with an intent to kill. 

“You think Barb died because you left her alone to go have sex with Steve.” You finish for Nancy, her tears rendering her unable to say more. 

She nods, looking away again as more tears stream down her face. You feel horrible for her, knowing first hand just how cruelly guilt can eat away at someone. Jonathan doesn’t know this, but you still think you’re the reason Will disappeared last year. You were the one who left him alone that night. If you had been there, if you had dropped him off at the Byers’ doorstep, you’re sure that he would’ve never ended up facing the horrors that he did. 

As for Nancy, you understand everything she’s feeling and more. It isn’t fair how one simple choice, one moment of selfishness, can lead to such tragedy and pain. 

Cautiously, you ask Nancy a question. “Does Steve know about the guilt you feel?” 

“He knows, but he doesn’t understand.” Nancy’s voice laces with grief and bitterness. “He found me by the pencil sharpener. There was this girl, she looked so much like Barb and I just… I zoned out. I was stuck there, thinking about her, when he found me.” 

“Did he notice you were upset?”

“Of course he noticed. He’s Steve, I could shed a single tear and he’d be all over me like I’m some baby.” Nancy scoffs, which makes you frown. You’re not sure what’s so wrong with that, having someone so attuned to your emotions because they love you that deeply. 

You push aside your thoughts, however. “What happened, then?”

“We went into a study room and I snapped.” Nancy’s close to tears again. “I just… I want to tell Barb’s parents what really happened. They’re selling their house, Y/N. They’re selling their own home to afford this private detective who promised them he’d find out what happened to her. What–what kind of person would I be if I let my best friend’s parents go bankrupt for being worried about their only child?”

“Nancy…”

“And Steve, he just… He told me it was a bad idea, that–that our families could get hurt and all that bullshit, but what am I supposed to do? I’m trying to figure something out, to fix this, and Steve just wants to go to some stupid party and pretend everything is okay?” Nancy is almost shouting now, and you nervously look around to make sure you're not disturbing anyone. It’s still a library, after all.

Nancy takes a few seconds to collect herself, to steady her breathing and control her anger. You let her take all the time she needs, and when she seems calm enough, you speak. “I understand where you’re coming from and why you’re upset. What happened to Barb is despicable, but… Well, I also agree with Steve.” 

“Y/N–”

“No, okay. Listen for a second,” you pause, trying to figure out exactly how to say what you’re thinking. “I think Steve means well, he doesn’t have a malicious bone in that silly body. The Halloween party can be a good thing for you if you let it, a way to destress. You have to move on, you have to allow yourself to move on.”

Nancy tries to argue some more but you continue. “I understand your guilt better than anyone else, I was the one who lost Will that night. But we all signed those contracts, Nancy. If we told anyone what really happened to Barb… It wouldn’t be fair to everyone who gets hurt, all our family members, because we broke a legal oath. You understand that, right?”

“I understand, but it’s not fucking fair.” Nancy’s eyes have a determination in them that startles you. You’ve always known that she was fierce, but seeing the edge in her eyes almost scares you. She’s angry, more than you’ve ever seen her before. 

You sigh. “I know, I wish I could do more, but…”

Nancy nods, understanding that there’s not much else you guys can do. You hate to let her down like this, you know she needs to hear something else, to feel supported, but you don’t know what else to tell her. 

Steve’s right in his own way, and so is Nancy. 

“Can you at least come to the party tonight?” Nancy softly pleads. “It’s just, I’ll feel more comfortable with you there, like I’m less crazy… I mean, that is if you even want to come and–”

“Of course I’ll come, Nance.” You don’t even hesitate to promise her this, nor do you realize that you’ve just called her “Nance”. It slipped from your tongue naturally, as if solidifying your friendship with the girl. You hate parties and loud crowds, but if Nancy needs you there by her side, to hold her hand and remind her of how brave she is, then you’ll happily do so. 

Nancy sinks into her seat, relieved. “Thank you, I owe you one.”

“I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

Nancy throws a piece of paper at you and you dodge it, throwing your pencil at her in retaliation. The two of you break out into a fit of giggles until the librarian eventually snaps at you guys and reminds you to be quiet. 

You reluctantly get back to work, and as you’re writing down more complex equations, you notice that there’s still a far off look in Nancy’s eyes. You know that she’s still thinking about Barb, the guilt eating away at her, and you know that the topic is far from settled.

–  

Halloween is in full swing the second Jonathan drops you off at home from school. There’s already kids milling around up and down your block in an assortment of costumes, all squealing with joy as they collect their candy. 

“Meet you in two hours?” You ask Jonathan as you unbuckle your seatbelt. 

“Yeah, but remember that I’m not wearing a costume.”

“C’mon, bee! It’s Halloween, where’s your holiday spirit?”

Jonathan groans. “Nag at me all you want, I’m not dressing up. I will, however, offer to be your arm candy.” 

“That’s the spirit!” You kiss Jonathan’s cheek and run out of the car and straight into your house. You have two hours to wrap up goodie bags for the neighborhood kids and then get dressed in your costume. It’ll be a tight schedule, but luckily you’re off of work tonight. 

It takes you about an hour to assort all your gift bags, separating the boys’ bags from the local kids’ bags, and before you know it you’ve successfully hand packaged goodie bags for an entire army. Once you’re done, you run to your room and throw on your costume. The dress slips over your head and settles gently over you.

You stand in front of your mirror and smile. 

It’s perfect. 

You’re going as Princess Buttercup tonight for Halloween. You read the Princess Bride around the end of summer and quickly fell in love with Buttercup. You’re not sure if you fell in love with the character because you read the book right after pushing Steve away, or because you saw yourself in Buttercup, but you came to adore her. 

Buttercup may have been a bit ditzy, but she loved with everything within her, and with such a passion, that you couldn’t help but admire her. It was her love for others that ultimately drove the story further, and you think there’s something beautiful about that. 

The red dress fits perfectly around you and you grab the gold chain that will serve as your belt. Once you’ve secured it around yourself, you place Buttercup’s golden circlet around your head. The costume had been pricier than you would’ve preferred, but as you stand in front of the mirror, you truly do feel like a princess. 

Your bee necklace, a wonderful gift from Jonathan, catches light from your window and you smile, bringing your fingers up to the pendant. It’s the only jewelry you need.

“Y/N! Are you almost done? Will radioed that they’d be here soon.” Dustin pounds on your door. 

You fling the door open. “I’m done, I just need to put on some makeup.”

Your brother makes a face as he walks into your room and plops himself down onto the beanbag. “You own makeup?”

“Yes, dear brother. I’d wear it more often if I had the time, but between herding you around and my school assignments, I can’t.” You dig through your makeup bag, opting for just mascara and a shimmery pearl eyeshadow. You’ll put on your lipstick in the car to save some time. 

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Jonathan, does it?”

You roll your eyes at Dustin. “No, believe it or not I can choose to do things without the influence of others.”

“Hmm, alright. Hurry up though, Mike had this awesome plan to hit up every house with the big candy bars and–”

“Dustin!” You throw a pillow at the boy, shutting him up. “Shush so I can focus.”

He grumbles but remains silent, now watching as you put your makeup on. It’s been a while since you’ve last worn any, so you’re slower than usual. Just as you’re finishing up your mascara, a car honks outside. 

Dustin runs out the room and you quickly grab your lipstick and follow after him. You’re wearing your mother’s mary janes again and they pinch your feet as you run, but whatever. You feel pretty tonight, you’re somebody else for now, a princess free from any burdens and stress. 

Jonathan is standing outside his car, waiting for you, and when you see him you practically fling yourself in his arms. “You dressed as Westley!”

He spins you around a bit, his plastic sword hitting against his leg. “You wanted me to wear a costume, right?”

You nod, inspecting his costume with glee. He looks amazing, dressed in Westley’s iconic all black attire, his sword by his side, and a mask tied loosely around his neck. To anyone else, Jonathan would look like a regular guy with an affinity for black, but to you, he was dressed as your knight in shining armor. 

He’s the Westley to your Princess Buttercup. 

Jonathan kisses your knuckles. “Well then, as you wish.”

His words are smooth velvet against your skin, they warm you as the late October air encases you. As you wish, words that became their own I love you within the book. A promise, similar to the one Jonathan made you last year in the passenger seat of his car, pinkies intertwined. 

Something stirs within you, seeing Jonathan’s proud smirk on his face because he’s once again managed to surprise you, and the feeling is sickly sweet like syrup. It runs through you slowly, covering every inch of you, and you bask in it.

For now, he’s still yours. 

“Can we go now? You guys are gross.” Dustin calls from the car, annoyed. 

You and Jonathan spring apart in embarrassment. He laughs, rubs the back of his neck, and tells you, “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Why thank you,” you curtsy. “You look rather dashing yourself, good sir.”

“I wasn’t kidding. You look… you’re beautiful.” The sincerity in Jonathan’s voice cuts through you, it cuts through everything between you, and you can only smile. 

“Thanks, bee.” You try to keep your voice playful, light and airy as always. “Now, open my door like the brave hero you’re dressed as.” 

Jonathan opens your door with a bow, causing you to laugh. You’re sitting in the backseat with Dustin, Will is in the passenger seat, and once you’ve buckled up, Will spins around in his seat to talk to you as Jonathan starts the car.

“Do you think it’s lame that you and Jonathan trick-or-treat with us?

You blink. “What did I miss?”

“I think it’s kinda lame,” Dustin voices next to you, but he lets out a pained squeak after you’ve elbowed his ribs. 

Jonathan turns onto the main road and scoffs at the boys. “You think we’re lame?”

“No, but…” Will sinks into his seat, and you watch as he begins to fiddle with the strap of his bag. He’s nervous. “It’s not like Nancy’s coming to watch over Mike, you know?”

Jonathan’s silent, and you catch his eye in the rear view mirror. You know what he’s thinking: Will has been having even more problems in school, he’s sick of being babied, and yet here you guys are, babying him. 

You sigh. “Look, Will. We like trick-or-treating with you guys, we don’t go are your babysitters. We go because it’s fun and I get to enjoy free candy as a sixteen year old.” 

Will looks out the window and doesn’t acknowledge what you’ve said. You sigh again, knowing that nothing will appease him. He’s only allowed you to see a small portion of how much he’s struggled this year, but you can see his foundations crumbling. 

How is he expected to adapt if you and everyone around him refuse to let him do so?

You catch Jonathan’s eye again in the rear view mirror and he seems to be thinking the same thing. 

Mike and Lucas run out the Wheeler’s house as soon as you guys park in the driveway. Dustin immediately bolts out the door to greet them, obviously uncomfortable with all the tension, leaving you and Jonathan with Will.

Jonathan looks at you one last time and you nod your head in encouragement. He has to do this, he has to let Will grow on his own. 

“Hey, listen.” Jonathan says, stopping Will from leaving. “If I let you go on your own, you promise to stay in the neighborhood?”

Will’s face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, totally.”

“And be back at Mike’s by 9:00.”

“9:30?”

You reach over and pat Will’s back. “Now you’re pushin’ it, buddy.”

“What Y/N said. Be back by 9:00.” Jonathan instructs, but there’s a fond smile on his face. “Deal?”

“Deal!”

The brothers shake on it and you watch them with a smile. Jonathan hands Will one of Bob’s cameras and makes a poor Dracula joke and you love these boys so much. You wave goodbye to Will as he quickly gets out of the car and runs over to his friends. There’s a new skip in his step, he’s happier than you’ve seen him in a while.

“Alright,” you crawl over the passenger seat and plop yourself in rather ungracefully. “I’d say that went well.”

“We made the right choice, right?”

“I hope so.”

Jonathan sighs and watches the kids, who have now started hitting each other with their candy bags. You flip down the windscreen and use the small mirror in it to apply your lipstick. When Jonathan sees what you’re doing, he does a double take.

“Wait, are you putting on lipstick?”

“Mhm,” you knit your brows together, focused. “We’re going to a party.”

“We are?”

“Nancy begged me to come, and we just left the boys to go trick-or-treating on their own, so what else are we supposed to do tonight?”

“Nancy begged you to come–”

You finish your lipstick and flick Jonathan’s nose to shut him up. “Stop asking so many questions and just start the car, doofus.”

– 

The Halloween party is in full swing by the time you and Jonathan arrive. There’s a bunch of drunk teens in an array of costumes, ranging from classic heroes to dumb movie references, and the music is so loud you could hear it while you were still five blocks away. 

Jonathan parks the car and looks around wearily. “Are we really doing this?”

“Unfortunately I hate disappointing people, so yeah. We are.”

“One day your people pleasing needs will get you in trouble.”

“I will stab you with your plastic sword.”

“So sweet to me,” Jonathan quips, which you roll your eyes at. 

As you’re walking to the front door, you hear a crowd chanting Billy’s name. You freeze, knowing it could only be that awful mullet guy from earlier, and quickly shove Jonathan inside the house. 

“Who’s Billy?” He asks, confused.

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, let’s try to find Nancy–”

“Nice costume.” A girl dressed in goth attire interrupts you, her eyes only on Jonathan. 

Oh great. Another girl interested in Jonathan. 

Jonathan looks between you and the girl. “Huh?” 

“Nice costume. Going as a goth with a sword?”

“Actually,” you step in front of Jonathan now, forcing the girl to acknowledge your presence. “We’re matching. He’s Westley, I’m Princess Buttercup. Do you like it?”

The goth girl rolls her eyes. “Yeah, totally.” She steps past you and faces Jonathan again. “I’m Samantha.”

Jonathan is again looking between you and the girl, this time with even more fear and confusion on his face, and you almost want to laugh at him in pity. He’s never had a girl so blatantly hit on him, it’s almost hilarious if you ignore the fact that you’re in love with him. 

You leave Jonathan to handle the situation himself, scanning the room for Nancy. When you finally spot her, your heart sinks. She’s dancing with Steve, who looks fucking criminally good in his costume. You’re not sure who he’s dressed as, but he puts his Raybans in his mouth and smirks at Nancy and suddenly you understand why so many girls whisper in the halls about his lips. 

Nancy looks even better, her white blouse accentuating her beauty even more. She’s dancing with her arms around Steve and now you suddenly really want a drink. Seems like they’ve made up, then. 

Right as you’re about to pull Jonathan away from that Samantha girl and call it quits for the night, defeated and pride wounded, you see Steve and Nancy begin to argue over by the punchbowl.

Shit. 

You head towards them, shoving past hoards of people who seem to refuse to move. Nancy sees you approaching and only seems to become more upset. Her movement is unsteady, her eyes droopy and glossed over, and even before you walk up to her you know she’s heavily drunk. She’s in a tug of war with Steve and a cup. It’s clear he’s trying to cut off her alcohol intake.

“Hey, Nancy is everything okay–” Your words are cut off as punch splashes all over her white blouse.

Everyone around the couple gasps, and you wince at all the attention. Everyone stares between you, Steve, and Nancy. You quickly find some napkins and begin blotting at her blouse, trying to get as much of the punch out of it, but she drunkenly bats you away. 

“Don’t need help,” she slurs, but you shush her. 

“I got it, why don’t we go get some water?”

Steve steps in front of you now, aware of the fact that everyone is still staring, and says his first words to you in months. “She’s my girlfriend, I’ll take care of her. Just… just go, Y/N.” 

He dismisses you with a wave and you feel hurt wash over you. He hadn’t even spared you a single glance, he just treated you like some annoying fly in his way. You watch, defeated, as Steve guides Nancy to a room and you’re left alone at a party you hadn’t even wanted to go to in the first place. 

How fun. 

You crumble up one of the napkins in your hand and will away your anger. You don’t deserve to feel angry at Steve’s actions, you’re the one who was so dismissive of him in the first place. He’s just following along, doing what you’ve forced him to do. 

As you’re lost in thought, Billy corners you in the kitchen.

“We meet again, sweetheart.” His breath reeks of alcohol and you cringe, the smell burning your nose. 

“Didn’t I tell you to learn some goddamn personal space?” 

Billy laughs dryly, stepping forward every time you take a step back. Too late, you realize what he’s doing. Before you can stop it, he has your back pressed against a nearby wall. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

You look around, but everyone who had been in the kitchen earlier seems to have left or are far too drunk to realize what’s happening. Billy is peering over you and every part of you wants to run away, to cower. You’ve never been able to handle aggressive men well, no matter how much of a front you put on around Lonnie, you always trembled when he was near. 

Billy is no different, and he sees your unease. “Aw, is the princess nervous?”

“I’m surprised Max taught you what a princess looks like.”

At the mention of Max’s name, Billy’s cocky grin slips. Confusion masks his face now, making him appear more human than obnoxiously handsome. “So you know my little sister?”

You try to shove past him, but Billy plants his feet down and places both arms against the wall, trapping you. He’s surrounded you, he wants a reaction out of you. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to steady your heartbeat and appear indifferent. 

“I have my ways,” you shrug, but your heartbeat still pounds rapidly. 

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Pretty and intelligent. Why, look at you. I’m impressed, and yet I still don’t know your name.”

You try again to move, but Billy leans his head down and brings his lips to your ear to whisper, “I’ll beg for it, if you want me to.”

“Get off–” He’s too close. He’s too fucking close and his lips against your ear makes you want to throw up, you don’t like this and you feel so fucking pathetic being cornered by such an egotistical asshole. 

“Tell me your name, and I’ll go.” There’s a smile in Billy’s voice, you can hear it without even having to look, and it enrages you. You fucking hate men like him. 

“Just get the fuck off of me–” You’ve closed your eyes now as you shove harshly against his chest.

Suddenly there’s a thud, a loud “oomph”, and a collective gasp from onlookers at the party. Your hands meet the air, there’s now no one there to push against. Slowly, open your eyes. There, standing in front of you, is Steve holding a very angry Jonathan back while Billy is on the ground.

Jonathan yanks his arm free from Steve and stands over Billy, who is laying on the ground with yet another unnerving smile on his face. Your friend shakes his fist out, which you now see is red, Billy’s face showcases a matching mark. “She told you to get off of her.” 

A silence falls over the crowd.

Billy slowly stands up, wipes himself off, and then takes a bow. “Not bad, loner boy.”

Jonathan tries to step closer to him, but Steve grabs his shirt and shakes his head. “He’s not worth it, man.” 

“And what do you know about worth, Harrington?” Billy chuckles, now practically in Steve’s face. “Where’s that little girlfriend of yours? You should go ask her what she thinks you’re worth.” 

Steve’s face hardens, but you can see dried tears in his eyes. Seeing him about to crumble, you step between the boys. “Enough.”

They look at you, but you ignore them and then wave to the crowd of people still watching. “Show’s over! Go back to drinking away your sorry fucking lives.”

Jonathan pulls you close to him. “Bug, are you okay? Did he hurt you? We need to go home, I’ll bake you brownies and we can just–”

Jonathan’s concerned rambling is enough to make you smile, albeit faintly. “I’m fine, bee.”

Billy observes the interaction, he notices how Steve’s eyes flicker between your interlocked hands with Jonathan and the way your hair frames your pretty face. He sees it all, and he understands exactly what’s happening here. 

“Oh, Harrington.” Billy can’t wait to see what happens next. “You’re fucked.”

Steve watches as Billy leaves, confused by his words but too tired to think much of them. He’s had the worst fucking night of his life. His girlfriend just told him she doesn’t love him, then he came outside to see Billy pressing himself against you like some fucking creep. He hadn’t even gotten to help you, Jonathan had beaten him to it. All Steve could do was hold the guy back afterwards. 

Now Jonathan is holding your hands and whispering comforting words to you and you’re dressed in Steve’s favorite color, your lips an even prettier red, you’re wearing a goddamn tiara on your head like the princess you truly are, and Steve’s had just about enough of tonight. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.” Steve tells you tiredly. He then turns to Jonathan. “Uh, Nance and I sorta… Can you just, give her a ride home? She doesn’t…”

Steve’s words catch in his throat and you grab his hand before you can stop yourself. “He’ll take her, won’t you, Jonathan?”

Jonathan stumbles over his words. “Sure, uh. Yeah, I can do that… What about you, though?”

You think about your conversation with Nancy earlier, how she seemed so upset with Steve, and how not even ten minutes ago they’d been fighting over by the punchbowl. There’s a hurt between them, one you think may be too big to patch up with just one conversation, but Jonathan doesn’t know all of this. 

“I’ll drive Steve home.”

Both boys stare at you like you’re insane, and honestly? You can’t blame them. 

You haven’t spoken to Steve in months, and Jonathan knows this better than anyone. 

“Y/N,” Steve lowers his voice. “I haven’t had anything to drink, there’s no need–”

“Too bad. I’m taking you home. Jonathan, go find Nancy and make sure she gets back okay.”

Jonathan and Steve try to argue, but you yank Steve’s hand and make him come with you. It’s long past time the two of you had a talk, anyways.

– 

When you exit the house, the weight of everything that’s just happened catches up to you. Your skin still feels raw, Billy’s presence lingering on you. Steve’s hand is warm in yours, but he isn’t holding on the way you secretly hoped he would. Jonathan’s confused and concerned eyes remain in the back of your mind, the image of him standing alone in the party makes you feel guilty. 

But you have to do this. You’re tired of being a coward.

Steve is silent as he guides you to his car. He’s parked pretty far, which you hadn’t been expecting. “What, do you not get a special parking spot as King Steve?”

He ignores your attempt at a joke and instead drops your hand. 

Okay. You deserved that. 

When you get to his car, Steve throws you the keys and silently gets into the passenger seat. You inhale, willing this to end well, and get in the driver’s seat. You start the car and the engine warms your fingertips. 

You start to drive. 

Steve is looking out the window, and you’ve never seen him appear so small. He’s closed into himself, his shoulders are hunched and his carefree smile from earlier is gone. 

“Not to make this awkward, but I kinda don’t know where you live.” You break the silence.

“Make a left up here.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened tonight–”

“Why do you only ever care about me when I’m some kicked fucking puppy?”

Steve’s words are vicious, and you flinch at his tone. “You know that’s not true,”

“It’s not?” He scoffs at you. “Then explain what happened this summer.”

“I…” You can’t. 

Steve sees your reluctance to say anything and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Some real fucking friend you were.”

You take a shaky breath. You knew this would be hard, but it still hurts more than you thought it would’ve. While you can’t tell Steve everything, you can offer him a half truth. It’s all you can afford, and it isn’t nearly half of what he deserves, but it’s all you can do. “I got scared.”

Your confession causes Steve to turn to you. “Scared?”

“Yeah, scared.”

“Gee, Y/N. That really explains a ton.”

You’re losing him again, so you offer him more. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really am. It’s just… I got scared, I’ve never been good at letting people in. I know it doesn’t excuse my actions, and you didn’t deserve any of it, but you just… You scared me.”

Steve is silent again, only mumbling a quiet, “Turn right after this light.”

“Look,” you push down your fear, you need him to hear you. “You came crashing into my life in such a violent way, and it became the best goddamn thing that happened to me. There you were, spending every day at my job just to talk to me. You asked me questions about myself and noticed things no one else had before and I just… I couldn’t do it.”

You look over at Steve and soften your voice, putting every ounce of your guilt and sincerity into your words. “I missed you.”

“Missed?” There’s something in Steve’s voice that you can’t quite decipher, it’s almost too delicate to examine. 

“Miss. I miss you,” you correct, and it takes everything within you not to confess more. To tell him you miss how his eyes turn a warm toffee in the late afternoon light, that you miss his obsession with his mom’s banana bread and that you have a recipe at home that you never got to make for him. You almost tell him that even though you pulled yourself away, you can’t seem to separate him from you. He’s everywhere. 

But what you can’t tell Steve, what would break you if he ever found out, is that you’ve come to love how he’s everywhere.

Steve is silent, and you swallow down your tears. It wasn’t enough, but at least you tried. 

As you turn into his driveway, Steve finally speaks. “All my life, all I’ve ever wanted was for people to like me.”

“Steve…”

“And every time I think someone finally likes me, I’m wrong. They leave me. I mean, you left me without a fucking word, Nancy lied about loving me, and my bullshit friends at school have replaced me with Billy.” 

Nancy lied about loving him?

Steve looks down at his hands, his eyelashes are wet with fresh tears. “I don’t know what I keep doing wrong.” 

You throw yourself across the car’s console and wrap yourself around the boy. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Steve places one arm around you, then slowly he places his other, and for the first time in months you’re finally back in his arms. He’s surrounded in you again, and he never, ever wants to let you go. 

“You won’t leave me again?”

Steve asks this so softly, as if too scared to bring the words into the light and risk them scaring you away. You tighten your arms around him and bury your nose into his neck, his cologne making your brain dizzy. “Never. 

And it’s enough for now. 

The pieces settle between you and Steve. Something clicks into place and you know that he feels it, too. He tightens his own arms around you, draws small circles against your back, and you stay like that for what feels like hours. 

Eventually the two of you break apart and head into his house. He offers you something warm to drink, but you decline. It’s late, you should be heading home soon. You ask Steve where his phone is and then call Jonathan, telling him to come get you from Steve’s.

Jonathan doesn’t ask any questions, his own voice sounding off on the phone. You know that tomorrow you’ll have to explain to him what happened with Steve, and he’ll have to explain what’s happened with Nancy. But tonight, you both settle on ignoring the topic for now. 

Steve waits with you downstairs for Jonathan. 

“If we’re going to be friends again, then I demand my nickname.” 

You look up at the boy and laugh. “What if I told you I still haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Can you at least give me a hint?” Steve bats his eyelashes at you and you shove him away with another laugh.

“Hm,” you think for a moment, reveling in the simplicity between you two again. “It’s lovely. That’s all I can say.”

Steve makes a face. “Lovely? That’s all I get?”

“Mhm.” You poke his face. “For now, please just trust that I’ll stay.”

Steve looks away for a moment, and you admire his lovely side profile, before he finally seems to settle on his thoughts. “Fine, but I expect some type of baked good every day from here on out.”

“Deal.” You raise your pinky and offer it to Steve, who smiles and shakes his head, but wraps his own pinky around yours.

Steve’s eyes are still red, from exhaustion and heartbreak, and yours are probably no better. You know there’s so much the two of you have to face tomorrow morning, to talk about and deal with. Nancy, Jonathan, Billy. But for now, Steve’s pinky is around yours and you couldn’t ask for a better end to your night. 

It’s a start.

It’s all you could’ve asked for. 

Jonathan arrives later and waits in the car, seeming to sense that you want some privacy as you say goodbye to Steve. 

“That’s my ride.” You nudge him. “Oh, don’t think I forgot about the Nancy thing. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.”

“What–”

“We’re friends again and I nag all my friends about their emotions. You were spared last year, but this year? Buckle up, buddy.”

Steve lets out a tired laugh. “Do I have to sign another contract?”

“Nah, you just have to trust me.”

“I do.” He says, no ounce of hesitation. 

You squeeze his hand. “Then that’s all I need. Goodnight, Steve. Get some rest.”

Steve nods and watches as you walk towards Jonathan’s car. He stays outside for a while, long after the car has faded in the distance. The cold air makes him shiver, but after everything that’s happened tonight, he welcomes it. His mind is spinning, he’s not sure if he feels more heartbreak or relief, but he decides he doesn’t care. 

For now, he’s content. 

Now that he has you in his life again, no matter what happens between him and Nancy, he knows he’ll get through it with you holding his hand. 

– 

The drive home is quiet. Both you and Jonathan seem to be lost in your own thoughts. When you get to your house, you simply tell your friend, “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about it all tomorrow,”

Jonathan nods, his eyes as tired as yours. “Tomorrow.”

You walk inside your house and notice all the lights off. You’re home later than you originally planned, your mom must be asleep already. You kick off your shoes and sigh tiredly. Tonight has exhausted you. 

However, you feel bad about skipping out on the boys, so you walk towards Dustin’s room and quietly knock on the door to apologize. After a few knocks, Dustin cracks his door open. “Yes?”

“Hey, just wanted to ask how tonight…” You notice Dustin’s stance, how he seems to almost be trying to block your view of something. “Is everything alright?”

Your brother quickly repositions himself. “Fine! Nothin’ to see here!”

He’s definitely acting suspicious. 

“Open the door, show me what’s inside.”

You go to shove your way in, but Dustin scrambles and ends up shouting, “Will had another episode tonight!

“What?” You freeze. 

Dustin lets out a breath of relief. He knew using Will’s episode would be a good distraction from what he has in his room. “Will, he had another episode. He’s fine, though… Just thought you should know.”

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Actually,” Dustin lets out a yawn. “I’m kinda tired. Ya know, trick-or-treating is hard work. Can we just call it a night and talk about it tomorrow?”

“I mean, I guess?” Your list of things you need to talk about tomorrow keeps growing. 

“Sweet! Goodnight, Y/N!” And with that, Dustin slams his door in your face. He presses his back pressed against his door as he steadies his heartbeat. That was close, too close. After a couple seconds, he walks over to his turtle’s tank and greets Dart again. “Sorry buddy, had to get Y/N away. She’d freak if she found out about you.”

Dart lets out a small screech in response. 

“Wonder how long I can keep this from her.”

Meanwhile, you stand in the hall for a moment, completely bewildered as to what’s just happened. It feels like you missed a few important details. There’s something happening, but you have no idea what.

You go to your room and make a plan. Tomorrow, you’ll order a code blue with Dustin and demand information. For now, all you can do is get ready for bed and hope that whatever he’s hiding, it isn’t as monumental as El had been. 

Tonight, you go to bed thinking of Nancy and Steve, worried about them both.

-

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[puck-luck]

the adventurous one | dawson mercer

warnings: outdoor/public sex, unprotected sex, references to oral (f!receiving) at a later date, dirty talk, praise pairing: dawson mercer x fem!reader request: "Okay hear me out but Dawson seems like such a nature lover and hiking guy. So could I request something where he and reader go on a hike by a river or something because Dawson wanted to show her but she doesn’t want to hike anymore (lazy girls unite) so she stops him for a “water break” and slowly she manages to get him to have sex right there. Completely public but also private? Please?" ABSOLUTELY! wc: 2000

“Daws, slow down,” you call, watching the distance between your boyfriend and yourself increase with each step. 

Dawson had invited you to go on a hike with him this afternoon in place of his normal workout. You had said yes because you love your boyfriend, but you were both all too well aware that he was a little more physically fit than you, being, oh, an athlete and all.

You had held out as long as you could before asking for a break, but you’re nearing a creek and it’s a pretty sight, so maybe Dawson will let it slide.

You sit down on a stone and dig through your backpack for your water bottle, gulping down the still icy-water. Dawson has turned around and is making his way back to you now, plopping down on another rock near you and stretching his legs out. 

“Tired already, baby?” Dawson asks, rubbing his shins and grinning at you.

You glare at him, bothered by his teasing. You take another gulp of your water, then shove the bottle back into your bag. “Not tired, just hot.”

“You always are,” Dawson says with a nod. He stands, then grabs your hands and pulls you to your feet. “Ready to move along?”

You groan, pursing your lips and looking up at him with a furrowed brow. Dawson mistakes your displeasure for a similar pose that you do when you’re asking for a kiss, so he leans down to peck your lips. He takes your hand and goes to pull you along, but you stay in place.

“What if I proposed an alternate workout?” You ask. “Instead of finishing this hike.”

Dawson chuckles a little, coming to stand in front of you. He ducks his head a bit and raises his eyebrow comically, like he’s listening intently to the idea that hasn’t even fully formed in your head yet.

You walk your fingers over his chest, teasing him. 

“It involves cardio,” you say, trailing off. You let your hand slide up his neck and into his hair sensually, then you smile at him. “Your favorite kind of cardio.”

Dawson laughs, twisting the end of your ponytail with his index finger. “How about we finish this hike and then, when we get home, I’ll treat you to some of that cardio?”

“Or,” you drawl, “You could fuck me right here and then we could go home?”

Dawson looks around. “Right here?” He asks. “In– on the trail?”

You shrug, batting your eyelashes coyly at the boy. “Why not?” You ask. “Aren’t you supposed to be the adventurer here? Why am I the one suggesting this?”

He’s got a silly look on his face, seeming suspended in time as he processes what you’re saying, and you want to poke his cheek to wipe the expression off his face. Instead, you push his hair back and scrunch your nose while he thinks, peppering a series of kisses over his cheeks and the corner of his lip.

“You’re dangerous, huh?” Dawson finally says. “And you hate hiking that bad?”

“Well, I only really said yes because I wanted to spend time with my cute boyfriend,” you say. “And since I’ve thought of a better idea than hiking, I want to spend time with my cute boyfriend that way.”

Dawson sucks his teeth, then his tongue pokes through the hole in his mouth. You can tell he’s relenting, even a little excited by the idea. He pushes you backwards, walking you off the side of the trail just far enough that you can still see the pathway, but no one can see you in the trees unless they’re looking.

“Right here?” Dawson asks, biting his lower lip and sliding his hands over your waist, underneath your shirt. “Right now?” He untucks his lip and kisses you, then lathers his lips down your neck. 

“Yes, please,” you reply, pulling off his shirt and getting your hands on his sweaty chest. 

Dawson tucks the shirt into his backpack before returning to you, then pulls your shorts down your legs and tucks them away. 

You’re half naked against a tree, feeling much more vulnerable than you ever have been, and you feel very glad that Dawson isn’t moving to take your shirt off. Yes, you suggested this, but it was really a ploy to get out of hiking. You’re not normally this adventurous, true to your word that Dawson is supposed to be the adventurous one, but the thought of being in public does send a little thrill up your spine… in addition to the thrill from the litany of kisses that Dawson continues to leave along your exposed neck, shoulders, and chest. 

“Give it to me, Daws,” you whisper, pulling him up to your lips. He uses one hand to push his shorts down just enough that he can draw his cock out and wrap his fist around it. 

He pets his cock through your folds as he strokes himself to full hardness, letting the tip of his dick poke at your clit and stimulate you to the point that you’re dripping for him. The spongy head of his member leaks against you and helps spread your slick. He pitches his hips forward once he’s satisfied that you’re both completely ready.

“Have you been keeping secrets from me?” Dawson teases quietly. “I didn’t realize you love me so much that you would let me take care of you in front of everyone.”

“There’s no one here,” you reply, just as his tip breaches your hole and you let out a sigh. 

“But you would, wouldn’t you?” Dawson says. “If I wanted to fuck you somewhere way more public, you’d let me, yeah?”

He continues to push inside you with little strokes, teasing you as he draws in and out. He’s filling you, but he keeps sliding out with slow pumps. He’s waiting for you to answer, but he’s not stopping his movements. It feels far too good for you to do anything but moan, so Dawson continues to talk. 

“Maybe for another time,” Dawson muses. “For now, how about I make you come and then we can head home and I’ll give you another one?”

“Yeah,” you agree, clutching at Dawson’s muscles.

He hikes your leg over his hip and drills forward, covering you with his own body. His thrusts are short and pointed, hitting your back wall and causing your mouth to drop open in pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of your tight walls around him.

You squeeze him as you near your peak, only intensified by the breeze rustling through the trees that reminds you that you’re in public and anyone could walk by. You wrap your arms around him, forearms sticking to his skin. One of your hands grip the waves of his hair tightly, tugging slightly with each thrust. 

“C’mon, babe,” Dawson murmurs. “Come on my cock and I’ll clean you up when we get home.”

He speeds up his thrusts, reaching his hand up your loose shirt to squeeze one of your tits. He pinches your nipple and tugs a bit, leaving you whimpering beneath him.

“I can feel you getting closer,” Dawson continues in a whisper, his voice filling your ear like a physical caress. “I want to feel you fall apart.” He sucks your neck, nipping at your earlobe. 

You arch up into him, his cock shifting inside you to hit your g-spot. You reach down and rub circles over your clit with your middle finger, your head tipping back and getting caught on the bark of the tree. 

“That’s it,” he encourages, sucking at the edge of your jaw. “Atta girl.”

Your moans grow high pitched and Dawson covers your lips with his own to make sure no one can hear you, even though you haven’t heard anyone else walk along the path since before you thought to entice him.

You come over his cock, clenching down on him as your body is riddled with shocks and waves of bliss. 

Dawson slows as you come, watching your expression change with the feelings that overcome you. 

When you recover, he’s back to sliding in and out of you, stimulating his cock just enough to stay hard but not enough to threaten his own orgasm if you want to stop. 

“What are you doing?” You groan, frowning and tugging his hair. “Go, Dawsy.”

“Go?” He questions. “Y’sure?”

“Want you to come too,” you reassure him, locking your leg around his waist and lifting the other to join it. Now, he’s pressing you against the tree to keep you in place and he’s reaching a deeper spot inside of you. You’re wrapped around him like an octopus and you’re grinning at each other.

“Okay, baby,” he agrees, starting to move again.

“Don’t hold back,” you instruct, and he laughs.

“Okay, no holding back,” Dawson says, then shushes you with a little peck. “You asked for it.”

He lunges into action, thrusting forward with a determination that leaves you reeling, especially after you just experienced such a strong orgasm. 

He’s quick and hard. He pushes you against the tree and it hurts a little bit, but not enough to make you ask him to stop. You want him to come, come inside you, give you something to clean up later when you get home and he puts his head between your legs. 

The thought of that draws you away from the bark that’s rubbing against your bare backside, turning the discomfort into intense pleasure as you resume your soft circles over your clit. 

Dawson is grunting in your ear, kissing you, holding you tightly and praising you as much as he can before going breathless. His hips are stuttering, bucking against you in an uncoordinated way that signals his impending orgasm. 

“Fill me up, Dawson,” you goad, scratching over his back with your nails, marking him up. You’ll look down at those marks when he eats you out at home and moan louder, making the same kind of noises that Dawson is making now as he crests over.

“Baby,” he moans as his seed starts to spill inside of you, filling you and warming you. He pumps his hips, letting his orgasm run its course. Little noises and pants leave his mouth, lips brushing against your own. “Yeah,” he murmurs, repeating the word as he comes back to himself and the pleasure dissolves. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you agree, rolling your hips a few times, then tapping his shoulder. “Okay. Get out. Time to go home.”

“But I like it so much in here,” Dawson teases, sounding faux-pained just to get on your nerves. He always does this, especially when you guys risk a quickie before you need to be somewhere or meet someone. 

“Mmm, well, maybe you can come back later,” you assure him as he slides out of you and tucks himself away. 

He uses his shirt to wipe between your legs before pulling your shorts up your legs, redressing you and kissing your stomach before coming back up to your lips. “Love you.”

“Love you,” you reply.

He takes your hand and starts to lead you back to the trail, walking down the part of the path you’ve already taken back to the car. “You really didn’t like hiking with me?” He asks. “So much that you’d risk getting a tick– which I’m going to check you for later, by the way– just to convince me to go home?”

“I wanted to work out with my cute boyfriend,” you remind him, swinging your hands between you. “This type of work out is much more fun than walking up a big ol’ hill.”

“I’ll convince you one day,” Dawson teases good-naturedly. “But you know, I won’t complain if you want to do this again.” He flashes you a wink and a big smile, a little skip to his walk that you match all the way to the car.

note: i'm still at work! this is andy from the past! i hope you guys enjoyed this fic and i can't wait to come back and be more active in a couple of weeks <3

[d-criss-news]

See an exclusive first look at Darren Criss’ return to Broadway in Maybe Happy Ending

The "Glee" actor stars as a Helperbot named Oliver, opposite Helen J. Shen making their Broadway debut as Claire.

There’s nothing new about an awkward meet-cute turning into a love story… But what if that love story is between two robots?

That’s the question posed by Maybe Happy Ending, a new musical coming to Broadway this fall, starring Emmy-winning Glee and The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story actor Darren Criss. The show also marks the Broadway debut of Helen J. Shen (The Lonely Few) and Dez Duron (The Voice). Featuring a book by Will Aronson and Hue Park, with music by Aronson and lyrics by Park, Maybe Happy Ending is helmed by Tony Award winner Michael Arden (Parade, Once on This Island), with scenic design by Dane Laffrey (A Christmas Carol).

Ahead of its debut, Entertainment Weekly has your exclusive first listen to the show, with a music video of Criss and Chen’s emotional duet, "When You’re in Love.”

Darren Criss and Helen J. Shen in "Maybe Happy Ending". MAYBE HAPPY ENDING THE MUSICAL/YOUTUBE

The musical — a big hit in its native South Korea, winning six 2016 Korean Musical Awards and the Richard Rodgers Production Award for the English-language version — made its American debut at Atlanta’s Alliance theater in 2019. Now the show is coming to the Great White Way with Criss and Shen as Oliver and Claire, two outcast HelperBots whose initial awkward encounter evolves into an unexpected relationship.

“There's a real pathos that kind of snuck up on me with these two,” Criss told EW of the HelperBot romance. “You think, 'Oh, cute, like androids falling in love, that sounds sweet.' But there's a lot more to that when you start to examine what it is to not only love something or someone, but the inexorable, unavoidable back end of love, which is loss.” Oliver is living the simple life of an outdated HelperBot when the story begins, tending to plants and listening to jazz in his one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of Seoul. Then Claire comes by to borrow a charger, and changes everything. The video finds the HelperBots united by emotion, yet far apart as they process the swirling feelings of being in love for the first time. “When you’re in love, you’re never satisfied,” they lament. “The thing you want is always out of reach.”

By the end, they’re piecing together both the joys and painful realities of their newfound feelings. They sing, “Now I’m hoping that you feel all the things I feel / Wishing that you want me to sit beside you /Wanting now to learn all the things you are / Waiting for a chance to invite you in my heart.” If the prospect of seeing two bots find love isn’t enticing enough, Criss jokes that empathizing with the characters will at least give audiences a leg up in the AI apocalypse. “If there's any incentive to come see the show — other than a wonderful theatrical experience with a lot of beautiful universal themes and all that great stuff and fantastic music, and hopefully good performances — if not that, it's at least to soften the punishment and wrath of the AI takeover,” he laughed. Maybe Happy Ending begins previews at the Belasco Theatre on Wednesday, September 18. Tickets will go on sale to the general public beginning on Thursday, June 6 at 10AM.

Watch the "When You're In Love" music video above and read more of Criss' thoughts on the HelperBot romance below.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: Can you start by telling me a little bit about Oliver and what's at the core of this character for you? Well, I'll tell you what, this is the first time I'm ever really doing any kind of talking about a show that I haven't had much familiarity with yet. And I'm not saying that to avoid talking about it so much as to highlight the unique nature of my involvement in this show because, at least if we're talking about the theater, specifically Broadway Theater, every show that I've ever done came with something of a legacy and was a show that I would have been very familiar with, and I think audiences at large, for the most part would've had a history with it.

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying was my Broadway debut, massively popular, classic Broadway show, people knew it. Second one was, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, I grew up as a teenager loving that show. And then the revival of American Buffalo, that's now a standard contemporary American classic and studied that in drama school and yada yada yada. So when talking about the show, I had a really good handle because the show had lived with me for most of my life. [Maybe Happy Ending] is a brand new show, which is wildly exciting. But I have yet to figure out that answer. I can tell you what his core is on paper, which is that Oliver is a Helperbot, something like a hundred years in the future where our technology helpers — in the way that we have our Alexas, and our Siris, and our digital systems, and our smart assistants — have evolved into more humanoid representations. He is a Model 3 in the world of Model 5's and is very much outdated, and kind of running the last of his powered up life in the world that we're watching him and coming to grips with the things that left him behind.

We got a little taste of it in the music video, but what do you think it is about the Oliver and Claire relationship that people will respond to? Or what did you respond to? There's nothing like being able to look at ourselves by looking through the eyes of things that aren't us. I find the most I'm ever moved about the human experience comes from animated films where you have non-human characters trying to figure out human emotions. It's a really great way for audiences to subconsciously look at their own experience objectively. It's funny that it takes inhuman characters to examine humanity in a way that feels somehow accessible. If you see yourself up there, it maybe hits too close to home. But you might think about it a little differently if you're suddenly looking at things through the objective lens of a true outsider — be it a cartoon fox or a mermaid wanting to be human.

So having said that, this is a story about two HelperBots, two robots “falling in love." Of course, they're not human, so they can't physically, literally intimately actually fall in love, but they have to sort of figure out what that means by way of how they've experienced human beings themselves, by cues they've gotten from their own owners and from the world around them. And when you start examining things like love, things like loss through the eyes of non-humanoid things that are trying to computationally analyze and synthesize those things, you sort of start to look at them in a different way. There are many things about the show — the premise was very interesting, and I think the design is exquisite, it's a wonderful theatrical experience. Getting to work with a longtime friend, Michael Arden is such a joy, and there's so many things about that that make this appealing to me. And of course the music is fun, and it's cute, and funny, and charming. But there's a real pathos that kind of snuck up on me with these two. You think, 'Oh, cute, like androids falling in love, that sounds sweet.' But there's a lot more to that when you start to examine what it is to not only love something or someone, but the inexorable, unavoidable back end of love, which is loss. And how do we deal with that? How and why do human beings willingly enter this contract if we know that on the other side of it, there is something that will hurt and that can hurt because love does come with loss, whether it's loss of self, loss of wholeness.

And this show really shows a really beautiful balance of these beings trying to suss out thousands of years of human meditation — of all the hundred thousand songs and poems and stories that have tried to help us understand this balance of love and loss, and the highs and the lows of it are pretty profound. er. In “When You’re In Love” there's the sentiment that being in love is the loneliest you can be. Is that something that you immediately connected with, or was that surprising?

I think that song's very interesting because it's them putting the pieces together. Many lines in the song that talk about how being loved does just constantly leave you with a sense of longing. Which I think goes back into the main thesis, which is love in many ways is loss. They kind of coexist in this yin-yang. It's just one's much more fun and more accessible to talk about, but they kind of come hand in hand. Again, the systematic exploration of all of the ones and zeros of what love is — it's a lot of ones, but it is also a lot of zeros, and one of those things is being lonely and the feeling of not being whole without a certain thing. Which I think is a really good connector to what this show talks about, which is the function of the things in our life that we lose. It is funny that we are getting closer and closer to the realities of what this show presents and suggests. The idea that Siri could be a person in a hundred years isn't absurd, it's not a crazy idea. Even talking about things like robots or artificial intelligence, it's an immediate thing that is part of the cultural fabric and a continual discussion about how and where and why it's going to be part of our life.

But even without talking about those sort of more sci-fi leaning things, technology is in many ways, like people in our life. I mean, people treat their phones like babies. We have attachments to our phones and the way that we need them in our lives and the way we care for them and the reliance we have on them. And the idea of shelf life and things being outdated, we're pretty comfortable with. It's more comprehensible with tech and objects. But it's funny that we have this cognitive dissonance between that and the idea of things being outdated and out of its prime is harder to grasp and a harder pill to swallow with people, and it's a harder journey to go on with people. But what happens when our objects become closer in likeness and experience to people? How are we going to wrap our brains around that and how will they wrap their brains or their programming around that? And how will they feel? Will they feel at all? How will they feel about their impermanence as it relates to ours and vice versa? So there's a lot of really, really nice questions being asked in this show.

Are you finding that it's changing your relationship to Siri and Alexa and your technology? As of now, absolutely not. Well, maybe in the future. Maybe. I'll bite my tongue… In a few years, who knows? She's listening. I'll be nice to you Siri, I promise. As long as you're nice to me when you decide to take over the planet. Well, after you've played a Helperbot, you've got an in. Hopefully that'll soften the AI takeover, they'll let us loose. If there's any incentive to come see the show — other than a wonderful theatrical experience with a lot of beautiful universal themes and all that great stuff and fantastic music, and hopefully good performances — if not that, it's at least to soften the punishment and wrath of the AI takeover. This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

[insanityclause]

Tom Hiddleston was given a royal assignment on Thursday evening. An ambassador for the Prince's Trust, the Loki actor, 43, attended the charity's Invest in Futures event, where he relayed a poignant message written by King Charles. 

"I really am so pleased that The Trust's work continues to go from strength to strength, having, in recent years, expanded from its mission in the United Kingdom to now supporting young people in twenty-three countries," read Tom. 

"Celebrating the global impact of this work is an achievement which, I must confess, I could not have dreamed of back in 1976 when I started The Trust, using, at that time, my Royal Navy severance pay when I left the Service to help disadvantaged young people achieve their full potential.

"I am thrilled to say that it has now worked with over one million young people, helping them to start careers, launch businesses and re-engage with education. I am enormously inspired by the determination and commitment of young people, one of whom you will hear from later. They are changemakers; they will shape the world's future and we must support them to realise their dreams."

A momentous occasion for the Prince's Trust, the annual Invest in Futures gala is the charity's principal fundraising event, and this year it was held at The Peninsula London in Belgravia. While King Charles has historically attended the annual event, this year, his letter proved extremely powerful, conveying the importance of the charity's work.  

A star-studded affair, Tom was accompanied by his fiancée Zawe Ashton for the festivities. Posing for photos together, the loved-up couple held hands and stared into each other's eyes. HELLO! even spotted lady in red Zawe telling Tom how "gorgeous" he looked in his tux. 

Rounding out the guest list, Prince's Trust ambassadors Joseph Fiennes, Jeremy Irons, Naomie Harris, Major Tim Peake, Luke Evans and Myleene Klass were also in attendance. 

Meanwhile, musical duo Rod Stewart and Jools Holland provided the entertainment, performing songs from their newly launched album Swing Fever, before handing the baton to DJ Cuppy.

It's been a royally busy week for A-lister Tom. Just 24 hours before the letter reading, the actor had been photographed meeting with Queen Camilla at Buckingham Palace. Attending a reception for the BBC's 500 Words Finalists on Wednesday, Tom appeared engrossed in conversation, enjoying a laugh or two with Camilla, and music star Olivia Dean.

[vixentheplanet]

heartbeat

“everything about you is speeding up my heartbeat.”

shuri x black!reader | 18+

Summary: You live a privileged life of luxury as the heiress of Esme Hotel. The majority of your time was spent partying and drinking all over the world. One night, at your father's request, you find yourself at a charity event where you meet the Queen of Wakanda. Your friendship was instant, but the love was unexpected.

Love was not a feeling you were familiar with, but as time passed, you realized you were in love with Shuri. Shuri meant too much to you to risk losing her by telling her this, but you weren't doing a good job of dealing with your new emotions.

word count: 5.4k

themes: heiress reader, falling in love because love is beautiful

warnings: excessive drinking, some drug use (y/n is a rich party girl having the time of her life), and insecurities.

hi- my first post lmaoooooooo i was going to add versace on the floor to this at the end BUT i can’t find the document 😩🫨

Life is a funny thing. 

If somebody had told you six months ago you would be meeting the love of your life, you probably would have laughed in their face. As the heiress to Esmé Hotel’s, a global luxury hotel and resort business, you weren’t interested in settling down because, in this life, it was hard to find genuine connections with people. Of course, you didn’t have a hard time making friends. People clung to you everywhere you went. That was your life, money, glamor, parties, and disingenuous people. For you, it wasn’t that bad.

Love was the last thing on your mind, but again life is funny. 

Tonight you returned to New York City from Ibiza; it was your best friend's birthday, and one day wasn't enough to celebrate her. You and a group of "friends" flew out to the Balearic island and spent a week fueled by drugs and alcohol with little sleep and many bad decisions, but you couldn't remember them to regret them. The fun ended when your father called to say he was sending the private jet to take you back to New York. 

Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries, was hosting a charity event in the ballroom of one of the Esme Hotels, and your father asked you to attend in his place because he couldn't. The company was auctioning an all-inclusive trip to any Esme resort in the United States. Usually, your brother would fill in for him, but they were both in Monaco on business, leaving you as the only option.

You opted for a piece from the Zuhair Murad Couture 2023 collection, a stunning pink sequined midi dress paired with a matching floor-length scarf. Your pink Giuseppe Zanotti Iride crystal sandals went perfectly with the dress. When walking the red carpet, you smiled and posed, trying to make it not appear as you’d rather be anywhere but here. You got through without any problems, and as soon as you entered the ballroom, you went straight to the bar. Was there anything else you were supposed to do? Mingle? Network? You didn't need any of that and intended to leave after making arrangements with the auction winner.

Of course, the staff knew exactly who you were upon your arrival, and the bartender quickly came over. “Marco, the usual, please.” Within seconds a French martini was in front of you. “Thank you, I’ll need another one in about five minutes.” You say, sipping the martini and scanning the crowd. 

There were many people here, some of whom you recognized as reputable business professionals in their respective industries, some celebrities, and government officials. Most were just nameless faces. If they weren’t in the tabloids or someone your father had introduced you to, there was no way of you knowing them. 

Suddenly, a man in an awful powdered blue suit approaches you and leans on the bar. "Hello, sweetheart. I'm surprised to see you here. Where is dear old dad?” 

This man, whoever he is, was a stranger to you, but he clearly knows you. As much as you wanted to tell him to fuck off, you were here to represent Esme in place of your father and didn't want to make a PR nightmare or accidentally upset a valued shareholder.

You flash your perfect fake smile before replying, “My father couldn’t make it. He’s stuck in Monaco overseeing the construction site for a new hotel.” 

“So I guess you’re being auctioned off?” He jokes. He's too preoccupied with the drinks to see the look of utter disgust on your face.

“Excuse me?” You say, completely appalled. If this person is someone your father knew and trusted, he would never dare to treat you so rudely and endanger the future of their business relationship.

This asshole has the nerve to seem surprised that you didn't appreciate his compliment. “Oh, come on. I’d pay top dollar to hit that.” He makes a humorous sound, and before you can react, someone else chimes in.

“That’s rather disrespectful, don’t you think?” In front of you is a figure you've only seen on television while news commentators discussed whether the world needed access to vibranium. You may have changed the channel repeatedly, but forgetting such a striking face was difficult. The Queen of Wakanda was stunning in a sparkling black jumpsuit, accompanied by two Dora Milaje warriors who stared down the man who had insulted you.

Who would have guessed Queen Shuri would be coming to your rescue? “You see a beautiful woman and lose your manners?” Her expression is fierce, and her gaze is harsh. Unable to answer her questions, the stranger stood there with eyes so wide you thought they could pop out of his head.

You smirk, taking a sip of your martini. Not so talkative now, asshole.

Her next words were a demand, not a request. “Apologize.” 

He turns to face you, and you can’t help but smirk with satisfaction, waiting. “I-I- I’m sorry,” the man stutters and is smart enough to walk away quickly.  

Once the man is out of view, Queen Shuri focuses on you. You place your drink on the bar and try to think of the proper way to greet royalty. You definitely can’t bow in this dress. You settle on a slight curtsy. “Thank you, I would bow, but this dress is too tight.” You explain. 

The Queen laughed and flashed a smile at you, "There is no need to bow, and I must say it is a very exquisite dress." 

You feel your cheeks warm. That must be the alcohol. “Finally, a normal complement,” you say playfully in light of the incident that had just transpired. “The jumpsuit is gorgeous. I’m Y/N Esmé,” you say, holding your hand out. 

She takes your hand in a firm grip and shakes. “You wouldn’t happen to have any relation to the golden Esmé hanging outside the venue?” She questions, raising an eyebrow. 

“That would be correct. Just the Heiress, nothing too exciting.” 

“Nothing too exciting,” She mocks. “An heiress and great sense of humor.” 

You prepare to respond when Pepper appears, looking a little frazzled, most likely running around to greet and show her face to guests. “Hi, Y/N. Thank you so much for coming.” She gives you a quick hug. 

“Do you mind if I steal the Queen away?” She asks. It was a question, but it was just for pleasantries. 

A little, you thought, but responded, “Not at all. It was a pleasure to meet you.” You tell Shuri, and she nods. “You as well,” and like that, she leaves as quickly as she had come, and tonight just got a little more interesting.

During the auction, you bid on a gold Steinway & Sons grand piano and paid $150,000. You thought it would look good in the lobby, and the money would go to a good cause. It turns out that you weren't the only one who felt generous. To your surprise, the top bidder for the vacation at an Esme Resort was the Queen of Wakanda herself, who bid $500,000. It was relatively high, given that the prize was only worth half the amount.

Later, you track down Shuri to find out where you should deliver the information for the trip. "That will not be necessary. I don't usually travel for pleasure." She explains, leaving you perplexed as to why she paid such a high price for a vacation she did not intend to take.

Your eyebrows raise. “Why did you bid on a vacation you have no interest in taking?” 

“It’s for charity. Besides, Money is no object.” 

Charming. You appreciated the way this woman was endearing and bold. Nothing like the dull, self-absorbed people you knew. An idea came to mind. “Follow me,” You say, bringing Shuri to the bar again. 

You lean over once you reach the hightop, getting the bartender's attention. 

“Marco, a pen, please.” The man behind the bar responds quickly, "Absolutely, madame," before scurrying to fulfill your request. He returned with a gold pen, the one given to the guest, and you grabbed a napkin writing down the digits of your number. 

“Here,” you said, holding the napkin out to Shuri. The Dora Milaje member accompanying her eyed it with suspicion. A business card would have been more appropriate, but the only card you carried was black with no spending limit. This napkin was the next best thing, “If you’re ever in New York and need a place to stay or a friend, text me.” 

That was the start of a meaningful friendship. Six months had passed since the Stark Industries event, and you and Shuri became inseparable. You spent time together whenever she was in New York, sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for a few days. You took her to several restaurants, art studios, and museums. The Dora Milaje was just a little behind, but it felt like it was only you two in the universe. If Shuri visited for a lengthy period of time, she'd book rooms at the Esmé and frequently find her way onto your couch, where you forced her to watch almost every reality TV show known to man. She had a lot of catching up to do.

Those moments were when you were genuinely alone and often held deeper conversations in the safety of your living room and each other's company. She told you about her father's death, her brother's death, and the tragedy that took her lone surviving family member. All of this led to her bearing the weight of the crown and becoming Wakanda's defender. You recall hearing the events on the news, and a small irrational part of you feels guilty you couldn't be there for Shuri, even though you didn't know each other at the time.

You tell her about your upbringing. How your father was never present, preoccupied with working for his father and one day taking over the family legacy. Your mother had been a free spirit who had turned into a stay-at-home mom; she had your brother and then you seven years later. Having suffered from postpartum depression in addition to a long-standing sense of being trapped and ignored, she simply left.

Your Family was a difficult topic for you; life wasn't all sparkle and glamor. Since losing a loved one caused you so much distress, you realized you probably suffered from abandonment issues. The "friends" you'd gained stuck with you because they benefited from being affiliated with you. You knew those people didn't care about you as a person, and you were okay with it because it prevented anyone from getting close to you.

It was something you never opened up to anyone about because, truth be told, you never formed a connection deep enough with someone to open up the way you did with Shuri.

You're not sure when these feelings blossomed into love, but it hit you one day while you sat in the Esmé's empty Luxury Cinema. When you mentioned your favorite movie to Shuri, she said she'd never seen it, so you dragged her to the hotel's theater. Your living room's flatscreen wasn't big enough for a first-time movie experience. As Shuri watched Shrek, the two of you enjoyed an assortment of concession snacks.

Even though it was your favorite, it was difficult to concentrate on the film with Shuri's infectious laughter next to you. Shuri's laugh unexpectedly became your favorite sound in the world. She laughed at the TV every time someone said something witty. She chuckled at your jokes, even if they weren't particularly amusing. Always full of positive energy. 

In her company, you felt safe and valued. You couldn't stop thinking about her when you were apart, which was regrettably a lot. The time until you could see her again was something you counted down in minutes or perhaps even seconds when she left.

You were awed by every aspect of her. Her brilliance, heroism, strength, and bravery. It was that moment when her eyes lit up as she watched Lord Farquaad interrogate the Gingerbread man when you realize you love her.

Shuri was in town for a UN meeting on Thursday night; ordinarily, she'd let you know when she'd be in town so you could plan something together, but she didn't. You got a text an hour ago wondering whether you'd be home because Shuri was planning on dropping by before returning to Wakanda. It hurt a little to know she was here but didn't inform you. Did she start to get bored with your company? 

You cut those thoughts out before texting back. You'd be home waiting. 

She made it to your penthouse and was currently lounging on your couch watching a rerun of Real Housewives. Shuri pretended she didn't like the show, but you both knew it was her favorite way to spend quality time together.

Unlike the other instances, it was quiet and tense, but you knew it was your fault. Even though Shuri decided to come over, you couldn't figure out why she wouldn't tell you she was in town. You video-chatted and texted frequently, but you only had so much time together in person. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” You asked. The question sat heavy in your mind, so you finally decided to ask. 

“Is that why you’re being all grumpy?” She accused, poking you with a socked toe. 

You reached over to swat her foot, “Don’t call me grumpy. You should have told me.” You hated how needy you sounded.

“I got so caught up in my lab I honestly forgot about it,” Shuri admits. “It was very last minute. Also, I figured you wouldn’t be here.”

Your sensible thinking takes over, and you can only say "Oh" as you realize how silly you are behaving. It made you feel a little ashamed for some reason. Even though this was your home, you were never there. 

There had been enough late hours and shared stories for you two to know enough about one other's lifestyles. Shuri had been thrown into the role of Queen at such a young age and held immense responsibilities. On the other hand, you are a well-known socialite whose late-night antics frequently trend on social media. That way of life wasn't as appealing as it once was. Knowing what Shuri went through and her bravery and resilience made you want to be better than you were.

That's why you've been attempting to reconnect with your father nowadays. As you grew older, your father realized how careless he had been during your childhood and constantly made attempts to connect, which you rejected. 

“Actually, I was in Monaco with my dad.” The construction of the Esmé resort in Monaco was going well, and your father had asked if you wanted to visit the site. In the past, you would say no you probably would’ve been busy, but your free time had opened up a lot more since you weren’t going out too often. It didn’t attract you as much anymore. 

“That’s wonderful, Y/N.” she was genuinely happy to hear that, knowing how strained the relationship was with your dad. 

“Yeah, it was nice, but I need another vacation.” You groan, throwing your head back on the edge of the sofa. 

“You could always come to Wakanda,” Shuri says casually, just like your head snaps. “I would love to show you my nation. I trust you.” She adds. 

“Stop joking,” you say, trying to laugh it off and pretend those words don’t have your brain removing all the knowledge you’ve accumulated in your years on earth to ensure you never forget this moment. 

Shuri doesn’t know how much her words affect you. You’re in love with her but could never tell her that. It wouldn’t work. For once in your life, you were the one in lack. Truthfully you had nothing to offer. You hated it. 

“Y/N,” She calls out to you, but you’re not listening. The television remote has become more interesting than this conversation as you try to bring your focus away from the woman of your dreams sitting suddenly too close for you to breathe. 

Shuri sits up slightly and reaches for the remote, stealing your attention from her. Sometimes, she seemed to have forgotten her strength. Instead of taking the remote from your grasp, you find yourself being tugged forward. The unexpected shock throws you off balance and causes you to tumble sideways. Shuri reacts immediately, pulling you back with one hand and securing the other around your waist to keep you upright.

That’s how you end up on her lap, looking down at her as she says, “I trust you,” again—staring directly into your eyes so you can see the honesty swimming through hers. Your heartbeat quickens as you struggle to comprehend what has just occurred. She holds you close, your hair falling in her face, and you laugh because that’s what you do best when things are too much.

You move the hair out of your face so you can see her clearly, “Shuri-” The sentence gets caught in your throat. While the romantic feelings were there, the sexual ones were there too. There have been too many occasions when you've woken up from a vivid dream and found it hard to believe her hands hadn't been coaxing some of the most intimate sounds out of you.

The way she looked under you. 

Your resolve was breaking.  

Her eyes flicker down and then back up. Your delusional mind starts to take over, imagining what it would be like to have her lips on yours. You wanted that so bad, if only you dared to lean down. There was stopping you from crossing that line, and it was dangerous. 

As if sensing you were going to fail its test, the universe takes mercy on you. 

Shuri’s kimono beads begin to ring, interrupting the moment between the two of you. You quickly move from off her, the skin on your face feeling warm as you take in the fact that you just had Shuri right underneath you, her hands holding tightly to keep you stable. You tried to move your thoughts elsewhere, not letting them get too carried away. 

A holographic depiction of General Ayo appeared. “Panther, we’re prepared to head back to Wakanda.”

Panther. Why was that so sexy? 

The Wakandan Queen is a little out of it, blinking a few times as she takes in the message. “Enkosi Ayo, I’ll be out soon.” Ayo salutes, and the hologram disappears. Wakanda’s technological advances always leave you amazed. 

Shuri looks apologetic. “I’m sorry, I must go.” She stands up and moves to retrieve her jacket from the coat closet. You needed distance from each other to prevent any uneasiness from developing.

“Better hurry, don’t keep Ayo waiting. She'll know it was my fault.” You tried to lighten the tension from the moment you’d just shared. 

“Ah, please, Ayo adores you.” She puts on her jacket and shoes before turning to you. “Don’t watch any more Real Housewives without me. I want to pick up where we left off once I return.” She says. You have to stop yourself from saying you can pick up exactly where you left off now, not talking about the show. 

“You got it,” You tell her as you both step into the foyer. It's always difficult to say goodbye to Shuri because all you can think about while she's gone is how much you miss her. For a split second, you think she'll say something else. She'd hold you close and tell you she's staying if you had your way.

Shuri's gaze lingers on you for a second, and you swear it's quiet enough for her to hear the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat. “Goodnight, Y/N.” She hugs you, and just like that, Shuri’s gone. 

You were in a daze from the event that transpired minutes ago. Your cheeks were still hot, and you felt as if you were suffocating. Your anxiety kicked in as you were left alone in such an empty space. 

Although you had never experienced love before, you did not doubt that you were head over heels for Shuri. She cared for you on a human level and treated you as such. You couldn't think about anyone else but Shuri. You recognize your vulnerability, but it's hard to be apart from the one you love, even if they don't realize it. But, keeping your emotions in check was becoming increasingly difficult, and today proved that.

You were used to people wanting something from you when they came into your life. To go on lavish vacations on your dime, to be seen with you, and to improve their reputation. It didn't disturb you that you were surrounded by those who did nothing but take from you because, well, they were still there. Being alone has never worked for you.

You groaned dramatically, throwing yourself onto your bed. There was no doubt in your mind it would never work out. Shuri was too sophisticated and well-established, and yes, you were an heiress, but what did that mean to the Queen of the most advanced nation on Earth? Nothing. 

It was all so overwhelming. Something had to give; you needed to find a way to get these thoughts out of your head before they jeopardized your friendship with Shuri. You took out your phone and contacted a couple of your friends to ask if they had plans for tonight, and your friend Amaya texted you the information about an event starting at ten o'clock at one of her mothers' VIP clubs. Hanging out with Amaya was always fun and guaranteed a night of dancing, drinking, and getting high. You didn't want to feel anything, so you’d do whatever to numb your thoughts.

Deciding on an outfit was tricky, but you eventually decide to go with the green Attico Magnolia sequined mesh midi dress, pairing it with crystal sliver Rene Caovilla sandals. An SUV awaited you outside the hotel, and you were on your way. The night flew by, and as soon as you found Amaya, she handed you three shots and half a pill, and you shoved it down your throat. That was all you could recall distinctly as the night progressed; after seven drinks, you lost track and swallowed the other popper. You had a lot of fun on the dance floor but left when the talk became too suggestive. Why would you go home with someone other than Shuri? You need another drink.

The drinking and dancing cycle continued until 3 a.m. when your feet ached, and you needed to get into bed. The SUV returned you to the hotel, and security ensured you arrived securely at your penthouse.

You were back on your own, without a sense of direction, but you did know one thing: you missed Shuri. You want to see her, kiss her, and adore her. You reached for your phone and dialed her number without thinking. You placed your phone on the bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for her to speak, but she never did.

I’ll leave a voicemail.

With the chemicals disrupting your mental state, you allow your emotions to take over completely. "Shuri, you are the most incredible person I've ever met... and I'll never meet somebody half as beautiful as you." Your words are slurred but honest.

“I need you to come back right now. I love you. I can’t not love you. I can’t lie, I can’t pretend, and I don’t want to. I love you. You’re all I want so much it hurts.” That is the last thing that left your lips before you inevitably drifted into sleep. 

When you woke up, the pounding in your brain was merciless. You have no idea how you got into your bed while still fully dressed down to your shoes. Fortunately, there was an Excedrin and a water bottle on the bedside table, thanks to your security guard. You take the pill with water before changing your clothing and preparing for a day of movies and takeout. There was no way you were getting out of this bed today.

You enter your walk-in closet, pull off your dress, and change into a ridiculous I LOVE NY tank top that Shuri had given you as a joke. You didn't bother putting on bottoms, it was your home, and you could go around in your underwear if you wanted to. You entered the bathroom through a door that connected to the closet.

Using the claw clip that was lying around, you clipped your hair. You brushed your teeth and reached for your face wash. The corded phone in your bedroom rings as you turn for the sink, the sound loud and piercing. Groaning, you return to the bedroom, assuming it's someone from the front desk.

Nothing could have prepared you for the appearance of a figure inside your room. Your brain recognizes the person before you as you open your mouth to scream. You believed you were hallucinating for a split second. 

“Jesus fuck, Shuri! What the hell!” You scream, grasping your chest, relieved you weren't abducted, but your heart is pounding.

The phone was still ringing. You moved past Shuri to answer it. Startled, hungover, and annoyed, what a morning you thought. 

“What?” You yell into the receiver, instantly regretting your tone as the person on the other line stutters out, “Madam Esmé, you have a guest coming up. I apologize we could not reach you on your personal cellular device.” 

The visitor must have been Shuri. Why had she returned? You looked at her curiously, trying to figure out what was happening. Last night you sent her off back to Wakanda; not even 24 hours went by, and she’s back leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and jaw tight. “Uh, sorry. I see that, thank you.” You hang up the phone and turn to Shuri, but keep your distance. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but you scared the shit out of me. Why are you back so soon?” 

“You.” Your body tensed at her tone. 

“Me?” 

“You weren’t answering your phone. I called you multiple times. Do you know how worried I was?” Your heart sinks. Did something happen? Had she needed you, and you weren’t there? You couldn’t even remember where your phone was. 

"Oh my God, I'm such an idiot, Shuri. I must have left my phone." This isn't the first time you've misplaced your phone after a night out. You felt slightly embarrassed about being questioned about your whereabouts last night while wearing only your underwear. Even more, you felt horrible that you worried Shuri so much that she had to travel here to check on you. 

Shuri’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “Y/N, what do you remember from last night?” She asks, changing the subject, even though you were clearly a little discombobulated. 

“Well,” you rub your temples while trying to recount the events. “I went out to a club in Manhattan, lots of shots, a few pills, and everything else doesn’t matter. I'm home.” Blacking out didn't bother you as long as you weren’t hurt or dead. 

The room was silent. “You called me.” 

The words make your blood run cold, “Oh,” is all you can say. What could have been important enough for you to drunk dial Shuri? 

“Oh.” You repeated as the hazy memories returned. With Shuri in front of you, attempting to restore your recollection of last night, the puzzle pieces begin to fall into place.

I need you to come back right now. 

I love you.

I can’t not love you.

Ironic. You went out for temporary release from your feelings for Shuri and instead ended up confessing. If it weren't for the weight of the situation, you probably would have laughed. 

Thoughts race through your mind as you struggle to find a way to make this right. Denial was the best option. “Whatever…” you start but trail off to find your words. “Whatever it is I said, just forget it. It wasn't me talking. I shouldn’t have drank so much.” 

Shuri shook her head as soon as the words left your mouth, “Don’t insult my intelligence.” She says, narrowing her eyes. “That doesn’t make your words any less true.” 

“I want you to look me in my eyes and tell me, sober.”

“I would have told you if I was sober.” You snapped back. You don’t know why you were upset, but you felt like an idiot. The vulnerability was a nasty feeling, your heart was laid bare, and moments from being broken, you felt the need to defend yourself.

“Why?” Shuri asks with so much sincerity it breaks your heart. 

“Why?” You repeat back. “Because, you’re so good, too good even. I’m used to knowing what I bring to the table for people, money, fame, and popularity. You don’t need any of that. You don’t care for any of that. What could I possibly have to offer you?” Tears blurred your vision and collected at your lashes.

Shuri pushes from the wall, her eyes filled with fire as she approaches you. "Stop doing that." Her order stops you from speaking as she carefully lifts her tattooed hand to your face, forcing you to look at her. "You have this awful habit of shutting down and shutting me out or speaking negatively about yourself."

She continues. “There’s so much depth to you, yet you hold yourself back from what you deserve.” 

Your heart flutters. That is the reason you adore her. She was a steadying presence, reminding you of your worth and letting you know that the world only sees a fragment of who you are. You allowed her in because you always knew you were safe in her care.

You felt secure enough to begin speaking about what you'd been holding back for so long. It wasn't a secret any longer. Shuri knew you loved her and deserved better than a drunken late-night phone call.

Fuck it. 

“I love you,” you confess. “You make me feel so cared for and protected and safe. I don’t know how to handle this. It's all new to me. You don’t have to feel the same way, but.”

You sigh to catch your breath. “I love you. And I don’t want to lose you.” 

Her thumb moves to caress the side of your face. “I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t feel the same way.”

“As soon as I heard those drunken words of the woman I love telling me she’s in love with me, I returned to her as fast as possible. I needed to see her beautiful face light up when I told her she’s everything to me.”

The relief you feel hearing those words brings more tears to your eyes. “You love me?” 

Shuri brought her free hand to your waist, embracing you as she whispered, “So much, angel.”

You stare at her, overwhelmed by the adoration you find behind those beautiful brown eyes. She loves you. She loves you and came from Wakanda to confess. 

Before your brain can process what's happening, you rush forward, putting your lips to Shuri's. It’s just a soft press at first. You melted into Shuri because you could now – relief swimming through your veins as you nipped at her bottom lip. 

All you can think is how right it feels to kiss her, to be in her arms. Cliché enough, this is what life is all about. Love, being loved, being in love. Letting go and diving into it, you feel weightless. 

The kiss grows intense as Shuri leans in further. When she kisses you, it's like she's starving. Shuri pressed her way back in, kissing you with a desire that pulled the oxygen from your lungs. You're so desperate that you moan against Shuri's lips as she opens her mouth and passionately kisses you back.

“I had all my meetings pushed back. Unless there's an imminent danger, I’m all yours,” Shuri informs you. You like the sound of that. Shuri lifts you instinctively as you wrap your arms around her neck. You lock your ankles around her waist, gathering her closer and closer, wrapped up in each other. 

You pulled your lips apart to move lower, leaving a trail of kisses from her jawline down to the tattoo on the side of her neck. "Good, 'cause everything I want to do involves you in that bed." You motion to the bed beside you.

As you fall into satin sheets, you cling to her and won't let go. Now that she's yours, nothing could ever come between the two of you.

[carelessflower]

Trouble was firing down the Lightwood's door, an old submission turned more bitter than the poison the matriarch and her husband had gladly lapped from Morgenstern's palm.

Common folks and nobles alike shook in fear, as the Mad King was back, devilish spawns sprinting with their father's every step. The combined force of Idris's houses had only managed to push him down, not out, never out. With a daughter whose hands draw golden and spirit was more fiery than her hair, and her terrifyingly blond brother, who would wipe the blood of those Morgenstern cheekbones with a smile.

Valentine was still alive. He called for the throne.

Of course, Valentine's insanity had not faded away, but neither had his wits, The Mad Ruler - always three steps prepared. The political landscape of Idris had shifted over the decades he spent in the dark carving ladder from people's flesh. The Clave never gave back their trust in the Lightwood. Valentine could regain fortune for his victory, and punishment for his betrayal.

Maryse the Unmercy tensed when a letter with familiar signs came down her sparrow, commanding words capable of drawing expressions few had seen her displayed. Though burnt, the sentiment stayed.

Maxell Lightwood could stay, for he posed the perfect future pawn in Valentine's army. Lady Isabelle would become Valentine's dear Clarissa's Lady-in-waiting, her hands in marriage awaiting whatever house Valentine deemed suitable to sway over.

And when the gentle spray of she spring came, along her the first bloom of Moon Magnolia, Sir Jonathan Herondale would sweep on his horse, and renounce his love for Valentine's daughter. A family united, at last.

The firstborn, oh how Valentine looked to meet the Lightwood's grace, his son's soon-to-be bed warmer. The most useful hostage in the family. Breaking him would be the perfect jewel on the Morgenstern's crown.

Time spinned. The wheel went on.

Day of tourney returned. Words spread faster than wind, a foreign blade drawn. Prince Magnus Bane was never known to back down from a challenge.

The commoners laughed and cheered, bets in taverns went one thousand, one million. They all heard the tales, and Sir Herondale had run into his tough match. Magic ran through Edom's veins, and as one of The Eldest Curses, Prince Magnus's power rivaled most of his royal peers.

The competition would be unpredictable, many claimed. But some only cared about who would the winner dedicate his history to. Whether the blessed magnolia crown of love and beauty would rest on Morgenstern's flaming curls or the intricate blonde braid of Bane's newest amour.

To say this year's round was the most anticipated in centuries would not be a stretch by any means.

Everyone at the joust recalled the moment of their bated breath, as the Great Destruction knocked their prideful heron off his horse. Sharp as Bane's laughter when he took off his helmet, not letting anyone get in his way- reaching for where noble houses were posing in observance.

His eyes flitted over to the right, where the lady Isabelle abode with her family.

Oh— of course. Others whispered. The one true jewel of Alicante. Lady of the Roses.

What a quaint couple would they make. Most knew Maryse was anticipating her frosty rage.

It didn't matter.

For blue petals bloomed in between Sir Alexander Lightwood's raven locks.

okay so this malec x GoT inspired idea has been haunting me all night I need to get it out of my system may pick up later when I'm feeling lucky 🤭

tag list: @magnus-the-maqnificent @literallytypogod @ukisteria @hoezier-than-thou @sociallyineptbibliophile @queenlilith43 @khaleesiofalicante @wandererbyheart @raziyekroos @onetimetwotimesthreetimess @alexandergideonslightwood @andrwminward @noah-herondale-lightwood @elettralightwood @dustandducks @deliciousdetectivestranger @delightfullyterrible @letsgofortacos @kita-no @thelightofthebane @secrettryst @pocketoffeels @cityofdownwardspirals @stupidfuckindinosaur @i-have-not-slept @rinadragomir @potato-jem @kasper-tag @cam-ryt @banesapothecary

[ncrdyboyz]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ꒰ ७.*´. ꒱ . . . VARSITY AT THE 2024 MET GALA !

VARSITY sent members DIAZ and KAZ to the 2024 Met Gala, and both definitely understood the assignment when it came to the theme!

Diaz showed up dressed in OCEAN ROYALE, a fairly new brand started by S3ABORN3's Min Jooha and Acid Flower's Reyna Jang, both who are Kpop idols under the same company as VARSITY. As well as fellow member Kaz, he was seen exiting the limousine, only to turn around and offer his hand to none other than Jooha himself, whom he had revealed to be dating since 2023. His outfit was designed by Reyna, his childhood friend and main rapper and producer of famous Kpop girl group Acid Flower.

Kaz, meanwhile, was dressed in the Spanish brand LOEWE, wearing a piece that was custom designed just for him. He noted in an interview that he chose the final design because it reminded him of his small home in Japan, as well as his boyfriend, Niraiin Erin of S3ABORN3, whose relationship had been revealed in 2020.

"It was really nice to pick and choose which outfit to wear because they were all so nice. Ultimately, I chose this one because it reminded me of home and all the good memories I had there with my boyfriend Erin. The pond near my house had lots of lotus flowers and he loves lotus flowers. . . so yeah. Love you, Erin!" he laughed, blowing a kiss at the camera before quickly moving on.

However, even with all the fun and glam, there were paparazzi who seemed to not like Diaz and Jooha's relationship; when they stepped out together in their matching outfits, some were heard muttering homophobic and racist comments towards them. Kaz, the better English speaker between the Starborn group, made sure to let Diaz know, who in turn led them right past the paparazzi and not giving them any more chances to take their pictures. The leader was visibly angry, with a grinding jaw and raised eyebrow as he walked right past the group of paparazzi. Many Smarties were outraged by the behavior and called them out for being homophobic and racist, demanding that an apology be made for the disrespect.

For the afterparty, both men decided on some sort of loosely fitting clothes: Diaz dressed in GIVENCHY in a v-neck top and cropped blazer and loose pants, and Kaz in a loose shirt and pants from GUCCI. Both were seen having a good time at the party and talking to various attendees.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ꒰ ७.*´. ꒱ . . . VIRAL MOMENTS !

Diaz was asked if his outfit was to celebrate Cinco de Mayo due to its slight similarity to Mexican style embroidery, causing him to look confused before answering with, "We don't celebrate that shit unless we're from Puebla or the United States. Why would I do that?"

Kaz was seen looking uninterested for most of the event and afterparty, more focused on his phone texting his boyfriend than socializing — but he did end up talking to a few attendees, and was spotted chatting it up with Cléo and Felix of Stray Kids.

Diaz was seen acting as a gentleman so often with his boyfriend Jooha that even non fans of VARSITY were asking about the 'hot guy who revived chivalry.'

Diaz and Grayson of TWILIGHT were spotted together, politely greeting each other before being asked to pose together for a photo — which resulted in a funny moment where the two struggled on picking a good pose, eventually landing with them simply standing side by side, making a heart with their hands.

Kaz and Diaz were spotted later at the party talking with The Boyz's Thomas, both smiling happily as they posed several times for photos together. Diaz was seen exchanging numbers with him and teaching him Spanish, which made Kaz laugh.

Kaz was seen walking around with a lollipop in his mouth and several in his hand, offering one to each person he spoke with. When asked about the lollipops, he simply responded with, "Don't worry about it," before offering one to Emma Chamberlain and Anna Wintour themselves. It earned him the nickname 'Kazu-pop' by Smarties and 'Mr. Lollipop' by the locals.

ib: @anqelblccm + @f1rstime ily besties !!

JOOHA can be found in @s3aborn3

GRAYSON can be found in @f1rstime

CLÉO can be found in @hausofanya

THOMAS can be found in @hwangyozz

[chouettecrivaine]

yes i paid attention to the poll results this fic is just becoming an absolute UNIT so it took a while. anyway here is the preview for the current wip, as promised!

genshin impact // lyney x reader // gender neutral reader // Capucine is a fic-specific OC think of her as a mentor figure or something to your character milf alert

The audience's cheers suddenly died down, excited whispers taking their place. Everybody seemed to know what was going on, so Lyney didn't bother to explain as he fiddled with the machine for a moment. In the lull, you leaned over to ask Capucine what was going on.

"I think that's a number generator," She answered, sounding thrilled and nervous all at once. "He's going to pick a volunteer!"

Lyney straightened his posture and struck a practiced pose, gesturing to the machine with one hand. He began to rouse the crowd, teasingly dropping a few hints of what might make him inclined to pick a standout individual himself. After a brief moment, Lynette pressed the button without his permission, allowing him to make a good-spirited remark about how straightforward she was. 

The three numbers spun in a blur, eventually rolling to a stop at different times. The first slot stopped first, showing a large zero.

"Oh! A volunteer from the ground floor it is, then!" People up in the balconies groaned in disappointment. Lyney offered comforting words as the last number rolled to a stop, showing a nine. An aisle seat.

By the time Lyney finally looked back at the machine, the entire number was displayed. He laughed and pointed out into the crowd, drawing imaginary swirls in the air before finally resting his hand while pointing right at you.

If he could see your face in the crowd, he didn't appear phased at all that it was you - but he also didn't look like he planned it. You were too busy shrinking under the stares of everybody else to observe him under much scrutiny. A part of you wanted to decline, but the moment you opened your mouth to do so, the entire auditorium burst into cheers, encouraging you to make your way to the stage. If you tried to say no, your voice would be drowned out for sure.

With no other option, you sighed and stood out of your seat. Capucine gave you two encouraging thumbs up when you looked back, which made you feel a little more confident. Squaring your shoulders, you made your way down the carpeted aisle. Lyney beckoned you ever closer, his smiling widening when you reached the stairs leading up to him.

As soon as you were up the final step, Lynette stepped behind you and ushered you to the middle of the stage without truly touching you. Removing his hat, Lyney bowed deeply and grinned playfully at you. He looked like he was about to say something to you, but a sudden movement in your peripheral vision drew your attention from him as a large box was lowered to the stage. The gilded frame held sparkling maroon panels on each side, catching the light as it came lower and lower before finally resting just above the stage.

“With such a lovely volunteer, this next trick should be a piece of cake.” Lynette breezed behind you as Lyney talked, opening the front panel and revealing a cozy interior with stars dangling from the ceiling and metallic paper decorations in the back. You stared at the swaying decorations from over your shoulder, wary, almost like you expected something to jump out at you.

Lynette placed a hand on your shoulder blade, startling you enough to make you jolt. Her lips barely moved as she whispered to you, “Don’t worry, we’ve recently maxed out security on our audience-centered acts.”

From the corner of your eye, you gave her your most pointed yet subtle glare. Was there something you should have been worried about? You supposed Capucine hadn’t been far off when she accused you of living under a rock. Keeping up with the news wasn’t your highest priority, yet you could tell you were missing something. Lynette kept her cool front, though, and gave an imperceptible nod towards the audience, signaling you to look ahead. The stage lights washed out most of the crowd, save for the faded images of the very front row. Their cheers hadn’t relented, the noise so overpowering you could barely focus on the fact that they were all staring straight at you. 

“Now-” Lyney announced, taking a step to flank your other side. You hadn’t realized he was walking around the box and showing the audience that the box was solid on all sides. “Our newest assistant will step into this box and, at your word, disappear!”

A noise of awe brushed over the crowd. Lyney turned a cheeky smile your way, offering a hand and asking, “Shall we?”

Not knowing what else to do, you turned and grabbed his hand, allowing him to lead you to the box and keep it steady while assisting your step up. All the while, he murmured his instructions softly.

“Don’t be surprised if you feel a little jostling. The box will be lifted off the ground - but not by much! I won’t let anything happen to you,” He explained, leaning his top half into the box after you. “The door will open once when you’re in the air. Once you close it, just make sure your whole body is behind the tape line on the ground. Okay?”

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you glanced around the box without moving your head so the crowd wouldn’t get suspicious. The hardest part would be closing the door, but you’d been assured twice that they wouldn’t let you get injured. You could take being lifted a few feet off the ground with ease. 

When you nodded, Lyney grinned widely. “I knew you were a star. Oh, and we’re trusting you to keep our secret. I’m sure you’ll help us out, right?”

He winked and twirled around before you could answer, addressing the crowd once again with a lengthy preamble. While he kept their attention, Lynette closed the door of the box, sealing you into the darkness with a firm click. Immediately, the noise from outside became muffled, blocked by the solid door. The soundproofing alone boosted your trust in the stability of the contraption. A few moments passed and you stood absolutely still, not wanting to shake the box and distract from Lyney’s crowd work. You heard him call something out and the answering roar of the audience, then the box shook for a moment before you began your ascent.

Unsure, you braced yourself with your palms flat against the sides of the box, focusing on your even breathing. While you weren’t panicked yet, you knew how easy it would be for your threads to unravel if anything went wrong. The rising motion of the box was smooth, safe for the initial jostling, and you had a surprising amount of room with which to orient yourself. Though you had been told that you wouldn’t be held too high, the slow progress made the ride feel eternal. Eventually, you were shaken slightly once more when the box halted. You could feel yourself gently swaying above the stage and took a cautious step back, just in case.

Then, as you were warned, the door swung open wide. You lifted an arm to shield yourself from the bright lights, giving yourself a moment to adjust. One step forward proved that the box was more stable than you thought. Gaining a little more confidence, you took two more steps to the edge of the opening, gripped the side of the frame, and reached for the door handle. The audience was clapping politely for your ‘bravery,’ and you swore for a moment that you hear Capucine above everybody else. As you swung the door shut, you paused for a brief second when you locked eyes with Lyney. He gave you a thumbs up, and you nodded back before shutting the door.

Once again in the secluded darkness, you stepped back until you were pressed against the wall. With the dim light filtering in through the cracks of the door, you saw the strip of tape that you were supposed to stand behind. As the crowd began counting down, you were left to wait.

From the top of the box, a thin panel began slowly falling, the lowering controlled by some gears you could barely hear turning in the wall beside you. The walls were double layered, you realized, to hold the mechanisms - that explained how well they filtered out the noise. The panel landed softly on the floor, and you knew then that the same metallic stars were pasted to the other side, blocking you from view…and giving you the illusion that you’d disappeared.

The only indication that the door had opened was the sudden increase in volume from outside, filled with what you imagined were shocked gasps and conspiratorial whispers. The moment simmered for as long as Lyney held it, allowing their disbelief to be cleared and their astonishment to grow. The audience was eating everything he was feeding them - you didn’t even have to see them to tell. You could hear it in their voices, feel it in the air as plainly as you could feel the clothes on your body. When the spotlight was on him, Lyney was in complete control, from the shows to his image to the people watching on.

Finally, the box was lowered once again and the panel lifted itself up. You stepped into the middle of the box, right where you were before the trick truly started. When the door opened again, the world was flooded in a prickling white light while the crowd shrieked and applauded. The noise washed over you like a wave, all at once before fading into the background. You had preemptively covered your eyes to shield them from the light until a shadow blocked most of it for you. Blinking, you lowered your arm when realized it was Lyney standing in the doorway, haloed in the golden spotlight and holding his hand out to you.

“See? Told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” He said, smiling softly. You felt something lurch in your chest and wished you could blame it on the box settling. Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his, certain that the careful way he curled his fingers around yours was deliberate and soft. Magic and excitement may not have been your usual scene, but you let Lyney pull you into the spotlight anyway for all the theater to see.

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

The Clone Wars 2x10 ‘The Deserter’ Reaction

aka the Rex Chest Episode

The way Grievous says ‘Kenobiiiii’ will never fail to make me laugh

“Any sign of Grievous?” the gesture that goes with this is just, oh Rex

Jesse? Is that Jesse? 

That little smirk from Rex. He knows that Obi-Wan wants first dibs on fighting his frenemy

Cody: “Rex is a smart man.” Obi-Wan: “Indeed. Always thinking on his feet.” Rex: *immediately gets shot*

Also the little glances they exchange during this

Oof that’s gotta hurt. Sniper shot straight to the plastoid covered chest. Poor Rex lying there like a busted pretzel.

Kix, was that you?

I’m guessing the yellow clone is Crys? Why is he yellow instead of 212th gold?

Why does Obi-Wan say “We’ve picked up the scent.” straight down the barrel of the camera? What is this 4th wall break?

Hello Kix!

Jesse got the braincell today. Also Kix’s decidedly confused “Sir” to Jesse was adorable. Wookieepedia lists Jesse as a Lieutenant and with Rex down I’m assuming that means he’s in charge now.

Why are the Twi'lek’s french?

Jesse saying ma’am is sending me

Well Suu is a certified badass. Absolutely no messing with her. 

REX CHEST?!

AND REX WHUMP?!!

Omg his chest and neck and that jaw and those arms and he hurts so prettily and omg I am unwell and cannot be saved help me

I’m guessing the other clone with the tattoo over his left eye is Hardcase? Hi Hardcase! Is he the one with ADHD? I love him already.

Rex flopping around like a fish out of water lmao

Oof that is a nasty bruise on his back. Also his back. And shoulders. And arms. Omg.

Kix telling Rex he outranks him lmao

Rex thighs?! Rex are you wearing nothing but your lower blacks?! That look decidedly grey but anyway. Also, where is the clone bulge? We were robbed.

“You look like my daddy.” FORESHADOWING CLAXON

The way that Kix and Hardcase looked at Rex like, “is this yours?”

There was so much in that “Mmmm” from Suu lol she is so unimpressed

Jesse being told he’s in command while holding a platter of fruit and nodding like a butler at Rex CACKLING

Rex, where are your nipples? Do clones not have nipples? What did the Kaminoans have against nipples? Did we seriously not get clone nipples? Were animated male nipples too much for Lucasfilm and Cartoon Network in the year of our lord 2010? Why are your nipples just slightly darker vague blotches Rex?

Omg Obi-Wan you completely and utterly over the top dramatic bitch (affectionate). Look at him all backlight by the moon looking all dark and mysterious as he hunts down his favourite arch nemesis. 

REX ARMS

Jesus H Christ. My God. Just look at them. Holy fuck. SIR

Also this bit with the farm animal waking him up was hilarious. His wide eyed look of alarm when it was snuffling and licking his face, poor Rex.

Also, Rex Hands? They’re so big. And his fingers are so long. Oh my. Oh no. My brain has already run away with itself.

I may have paused it at the wrong moment but his forearms look hilariously weedy in comparison with the absolute bulging units that are his biceps. 

I know this is supposed to be faux sinister and spooky but do all clones have such lovely beautiful long fingers?

Rex’s spidey senses activated

Cut? Sir? Daddy? Hello? Are all clones just a bulging mass of ripped muscle?

And here we have our philosophical argument for the episode

“Then our children and their children will be forced to live under an evil I can’t well imagine.” Oh no. Oh, Rex. If only you knew.

That was one awkward conversation to have at the family dinner table

Cut was at the Battle of Geonosis? Hmmm I wonder what batch that makes him and how old he is. Especially if Cody wasn’t at the Battle of Geonosis, which we found out in a previous episode. 

Another awkward conversation to have while your kids and wife are just sitting there watching?

Obi-Wan, you are such an overly dramatic bitch. It is hilarious. I love it. A giant Force leap off a tank with multiple somersaults ending in a superhero pose? Really? Also, that poor clone that basically fell out of the exploded tank and was dangling off a bit of it at the end.

Did that clone just shoot an incoming missile out of the air?!

Kids playing outside by themselves? This can only go well. I didn’t realise it at the time but episode 1x2 “Cut and Run” of The Bad Batch did exactly the same thing.

Oop that’s gone well. 

Well Cut clearly hasn’t lost any of his skills from being a clone

Protective Dad Mode Engaged

Also, why is Protective Dad Mode always so damn hot. Hunter does the exact same thing.

Jesse, Hardcase and Kix just absolutely dismantling droids on their speeders

“Always something.” lmao

Cut punching the commando droid and immediately regretting it

So Rex is still just as deadly even with the use of only one arm. 

Poor Rex getting strangled by a commando droid after falling through the floor. Also Cut shooting the droid that was choking Rex was a decidedly badass moment. Thought it did remind me of when Cody basically did the same thing for Crosshair in episode 2x3 ‘The Solitary Clone’ of TBB.

Grievous, did you just try to use a tactical dramatic cape drop on the master of dramatic cape drops himself?

Lol Obi-Wan’s little reach for Grievous. Nooooo come back and fight meeeeee.

Obi-Wan is so pissed that he didn’t get to capture his favourite arch nemesis. He’s having a little sulk. Cody is probably so tired of this shit.

That’s growth right there. Character development time for Rex.

Naw look at Rex riding off into the sunset. Cowboy Rex anyone?

[zapreportsblog]

Felix Volturi x Tall Cheetah shapeshifter Reader

This is after the battle to see if Renesmee is an immortal child or not.

The Volturi kings send Felix, Demetri and the twins to do a check up on The Cullens. Felix meets his mate during this checkup. She is really tall like 6 ft 2, has several tattoos and He was not expecting that. She has long black hair and tan skin. She also has martial arts and does boxing. She also plays piano and can sing. He does not find out she can shapeshift until they go back to the castle where Caius- his dramatic ass thinks the reader is wolf shapeshifter because she does smell human. He insults her but she just laughs not affected and shapeshift into a cheetah, walks over to him and demands head scratches.

I feel like Felix sometimes is insecure because of his height because he towers over everyone. He needs some love.

Feel free to change anything.

Good morning 🌞 let’s get this show on the road

❝unexpected bond❞

✭ pairing : felix volturi x reader

✭ fandom : twilight x reader

✭ summary : (y/n) is the mate of felix and he finds this out by paying the cullens a visit

✭ authors note : I got bacon cooking

✭ twilight masterlist

The aftermath of the tense standoff with the Volturi left the Cullen family both relieved and apprehensive. The fate of their half-mortal, half-vampire daughter, Renesmee, had hung in the balance. Aro's cold, calculating eyes had searched for signs of an immortal child, while Edward and Bella stood on edge, defending their unique family.

Weeks had passed since that encounter, and the Cullens had settled back into their tranquil existence in the lush forests of Forks. The peace, however, was punctuated by the unexpected arrival of four Volturi guards: Felix, Demetri, and the formidable twins, Alec and Jane.

Esme greeted them with a cautious smile, an attempt at diplomacy to mask the tension that always lingered when the Volturi were concerned. Carlisle, as always, maintained an air of calm professionalism, ready to cooperate in whatever manner necessary. The Cullen clan, a united front, gathered in the spacious living room to face the impending scrutiny.

Alec's sharp gaze swept over the room, his gift already on display, a quiet but potent reminder of the danger he posed. Jane's small frame stood beside him, her lips curled in a faint, knowing smile, her power too well-known to the Cullens to be underestimated.

Demetri, always the mediator, offered a polite nod to the Cullens before his eyes landed on Renesmee, who peered curiously from behind Bella. It was Felix, however, who stepped forward with a mixture of wariness and intrigue.

Standing at an imposing 6 feet 2 inches, Felix's presence was undeniable. His chiseled features and deep-set eyes gave him a rugged charm that belied his lethal nature. His gaze, however, was momentarily diverted from the task at hand when it fell upon you.

You were a surprise, a friend of the Cullens visiting during this critical juncture. Your tall, statuesque form stood out even in the supernatural crowd. Your arms bore an intricate tapestry of tattoos, each telling a story only you could decipher. Felix, who had expected a mere mortal, was taken aback by the intensity of your aura.

You caught his gaze, your own eyes holding a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Meeting the guards of the Volturi was nothing short of unsettling, but it seemed that fate had other plans. As Felix's eyes locked onto yours, something shifted within him. A connection sparked, a pull that neither of you could ignore.

"Ah, the Cullens are never ones to disappoint with their company," Aro's voice cut through the silence, bringing Felix's attention back to the situation at hand. The Volturi king's gaze shifted from you to the rest of the family, his interest piqued by the unexpected dynamics that seemed to be unfolding.

As the examination continued, Felix's thoughts wandered back to you. There was an unspoken understanding, a recognition of something profound. Despite the circumstances, he found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn't anticipated. And in the heart of a tense moment, amidst immortal beings and fragile alliances, a bond was forming that would forever alter the course of both your lives.

Days turned into weeks, and the connection between Felix and you deepened in the most unexpected of ways. While the Volturi guards remained stationed in the area, Felix found himself drawn to your presence like a moth to a flame. From his vantage point, he observed you with a mix of fascination and intrigue.

He learned that you possessed an aura of strength that transcended your physical appearance. The Cullens had mentioned that you were proficient in martial arts, a detail that intrigued Felix immensely. He often watched from a distance as you practiced your forms, your movements precise and controlled. The way you carried yourself spoke of discipline and determination, qualities he couldn't help but admire.

On weekends, he noted, you would disappear for a few hours, only to return with a subtle glow of satisfaction. A conversation overheard revealed that you indulged in boxing lessons, a fact that amused Felix. The contrast between your ethereal appearance and your fierce pursuits was nothing short of captivating.

But it was during a quiet evening at the Cullens' home that Felix discovered yet another layer of your complexity. Unnoticed by everyone, he observed you seated at the grand piano in the living room. As your fingers danced across the keys, a melody emerged, one that resonated deep within him. The haunting notes held a mixture of sadness and longing, a reflection of the immortal existence he had come to accept.

But it wasn't just your instrumental prowess that held Felix's attention. To his surprise, you began to sing, your voice a clear and melodious accompaniment to the piano's melancholic tune. The combination was nothing short of enchanting, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away.

As you sang, Felix's thoughts were drawn back to the bond that had formed between you. He recognized that there was more to you than met the eye, a complexity that mirrored his own existence. The pull he felt was inexplicable, a connection that defied reason. It was a bond that transcended words and logic, one that left him both bewildered and oddly comforted.

In the days that followed, Felix found himself drawn to your presence even more. He would steal moments to watch you, to absorb the essence of who you were. He marveled at the way you navigated your interactions with the Cullens, your genuine friendship evident in the way you interacted with them.

Despite his guarded nature, Felix felt a growing desire to know you better. He longed to understand the intricacies of your mind, the stories behind your tattoos, and the experiences that had shaped you into the person you were. It was a longing that both excited and terrified him, a vulnerability he had never anticipated feeling.

And so, as the days turned into nights, Felix found himself walking a delicate path, teetering on the edge of a newfound connection that had the power to change his eternal existence in ways he could never have foreseen.

The passage of time had done little to quell the ever-present tension between the Cullens and the Volturi. The familiar chill ran down their spines as the Volturi kings, Aro, Caius, and Marcus, along with their guards, descended upon the Cullens' tranquil abode once more.

As the Volturi leaders entered the Cullens' living room, their piercing eyes took in every detail. Aro's keen interest scanned the faces before him, Marcus's distant gaze seemed to penetrate the very souls of those present, and Caius's disdainful sneer barely concealed his contempt.

Caius, always the most outspoken and critical of the three kings, couldn't help but fixate on you as he surveyed the room. There was something different about your scent, something that didn't quite align with the familiar fragrance of humans. His lip curled in a silent snarl as his suspicions grew.

"Ah, the Cullens have expanded their company since our last visit," Caius drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. "A wolf shapeshifter, perhaps? It seems our hosts have chosen rather exotic companions."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as his words hung in the air. However, instead of appearing offended or intimidated, you let out a musical laugh, the sound ringing with genuine amusement.

"Oh, mister, how your imagination runs wild," you replied, your tone light and teasing. "I'm not a wolf shapeshifter. But I do have a little secret."

As you spoke, you felt a thrill of excitement ripple through you. The moment had come to reveal a side of yourself that had remained hidden until now. With a subtle shift, your form shimmered, and before the astonished eyes of the Volturi, you transformed into a sleek and powerful cheetah.

The room erupted in shocked gasps and murmurs as the cheetah prowled forward, your eyes holding a mixture of confidence and challenge. In an audacious move, you approached Caius, who seemed momentarily taken aback by the transformation.

"Seems you've made a miscalculation, dear Caius," you purred, your voice taking on an unexpected and exotic resonance. "I'm no ordinary companion. And I demand some respect... and head scratches."

With a surprising mix of amusement and disbelief, Caius hesitantly extended his hand to scratch the cheetah's head. The gesture seemed almost absurd given the circumstances, yet there was an undeniable camaraderie between you and the normally rigid Volturi king.

The room was filled with a strange mixture of tension and astonishment, with even the usually composed Felix appearing surprised by your transformation. His eyes held a mixture of wonder and understanding, as if he were finally realizing the depth of your uniqueness.

As the encounter unfolded, it became clear that you were a force to be reckoned with, a blend of strength and enigma that defied expectations. And in that moment, a silent understanding passed between you and Felix—a recognition of the bond that went beyond the boundaries of the supernatural world they inhabited.

[tigers-eyes-26]

Koopacabana

In the middle of Hell’s Kitchen in New York City was a kitschy Latin theme night Club called the Koopacabana. It was small but popular with the locals. It had a bar and a stage and sufficient seating. When money was good, they could invite artist and dance troupes, but with hard times they had a 6-man band and one dancer. But it was enough to fill the seats every night.

She danced in the spotlight while the big band played behind her. The orange and yellow fringe layered mini dress making each move more dynamic. The large feathers in her hair twitched with each of her moves. Across the club at the bar, the green vested bartender stared at the auburn-haired dancer. His blue eyes under dark eyebrows tracked her movements. Under his neat mustache a dopey smile lived. He had been absentmindedly wiping the same spot of the bar for a moment now. A bar patron yelled him out of his stupor, and he rushed to fulfill the order. Daisy’s stage smile widened at the scene. No matter how many times he had seen her dance he was still mesmerized by her.

As the song finished up, she struck her pose. Breathing hard and sweat trickled from her hairline. She smiled at the applauding room and gave a bow. Lifting her head she caught the blue eyes of the bartender again. She gave him a sly wink as she walked off the stage. The band started up again to fill the space with music. She swiftly made her way through the crowded room to the bar.

“Hey, sweetie!” She put her elbows on the bar to admire him.

“Heyo, mia amore.” Luigi wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Daisy beamed at her Italian boyfriend. She loved the way he spoke it was like a little song. She also loved his wild wavy curly hair which, at the moment, was straining against the hair gel he put in to be “presentable” at work. She reached over to muss up his hair, but he playfully batted her hand “Hey! Do you know how long it took me to do my hair tonight?" He put his hands up in annoyance. She giggled at his exaggeration. When she laughed the feathers shook. Luigi flicked one of them. “How-a long did it take you…to…keep-ah…Feather?” he grasped at the air for the missing English. Daisy swished her head back and forth to demonstrate how well they stayed. He chuckled at the movement. “Di effetto!”

Their sunshine was interrupted by the smell of rotten garlic. Wario, the club's owner, stomped over. “How many times do I have tah tell you?! If you aren’t dancing, you stay in the back! People pay for a glimpse of you if they see you just hanging out at the bar it breaks the illusion!” The two lovers rolled their eyes. They had heard this spiel many many times. Wario just shooed the dancer away and sat down heavily on a bar stool.

“I don’t get what she sees in you, cugino.” He sighed while signaling for a drink.

Luigi silently worked on his cousin/boss’s preferred drink. Wario was his only family that he had in New York; heck he was the only family Luigi had in the United States! Luigi had been accepted into a college where he could study engineering. This was his first time away from home and family. Originally the plan was to come with his twin, Mario. Even though Mario was clever, and resourceful, his grades didn’t make the cut. Wario, after being chewed out over the phone by their great-aunt, had offered Luigi a job and a dusty old apartment above the club. He held his ‘kindess’ over Luigi’s head many times. Luigi handed the drink over to Wario.

“A skinny intellectual pushover.” Wario grumbled.

Again, Luigi just silently rolled his eyes and went back to working.

Daisy made her way backstage to a room that was more of a hallway with a door, vanity, and a closet. She sat down at her vanity with a huff. As soon as she saved up enough money, she would be outta here. She hoped she could convince Luigi to go with her.

She wished to see him out from under his cousin’s thumb. Luigi hardly saw any of his bartending money. Wario had said he had taken out the “rent” from his paycheck, but Daisy knew that the old tiny apartment wasn’t worth it. Any money that Luigi did see, that wasn’t going to food, was saved up for a chance to bring his twin brother over to America.

Luigi was smart enough to have scholarships, so his schooling was paid for. But a place to stay in the city was hard to come by. Daisy had invited him to come stay with her in her studio apartment, He refused saying he didn’t want to take up her space. She was saving up for something a little bigger and try to invite Luigi again. Then maybe Wario wouldn’t take the “rent” out of his paycheck.

Daisy thought about their future goals together as she fixed her makeup. There was a little commotion in the front of the Club. She could hear Wario loudly welcome someone. Curiously she made her way to the stage and peaked out from behind the side curtain. She let out a disgusted grunt.

A tall skinny man in a purple pinstripe suit, and a purple fedora and a pompous big brown fur coat sashayed in with Wario at his side. It was Waluigi. He was an unsavory friend of Wario. Waluigi took off his coat and threw it over a server who was immediately drowned in the fury beast but took it to the coat closet anyway. Wario personally escorted Waluigi to the front row of the stage to a circular booth just for him.

Daisy gave a sneer and popped her head back behind the curtain. He was the most pompous fool she had ever seen. He would always come in the gaudiest apparel, sit right up front, and would cheer the loudest after her dances. She would ignore him every time.

She checked the time it was almost time for her next dance. She stretched a little preparing for her upcoming performance. The lone stage tech noticed her behind the curtain. He was a mysterious short bald man, that always wore strange sunglasses even in the dark backstage. “You’re a little early.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Is it wrong to be prepared?” She huffed. “I suppose not…” He scuttled away to check on whatever it was he worked on. She continued to stretch and go over some of the steps of her next dance.

The band had just finished up a set of ambient music and took a little pause. The beginnings of a Cha-Cha song started. She took her position, putting on her stage and the curtain snapped open. She shook her shoulders to the beat and took quick steps of the Cha-Cha. She tried to lose herself in the performance, but she couldn't ignore the leers that Waluigi was giving her. She finished off her dance with a little less pizzazz than she would have liked. She bowed, Waluigi gave a standing ovation and produced a single red rose. He stretched up to hand it to her. Internally Daisy was rolling her eyes. But she needed to put out a gracias appearances for the rest of the club patrons. Her plan was to swipe up the rose then retreat backstage to throw it away. She bent down to take the rose quickly, but Waluigi was even quicker. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the stage. She screamed in surprise. Waluigi caught her. “How nice of you to drop in.” She struggled against him. “Let me Go!”

“Hey, I’m only-“He was cut off by the sound of glass shattering.

All heads whipped to see Luigi jumping over the bar with the meanest face anyone has ever seen on the mild-mannered bartender.

Waluigi out of panic dropped Daisy and reached to grab a chair from a nearby table. He threw the chair at the rushing attacker. Luigi swatted the chair away mid-air and continued to upper cut the taller man. Waluigi was on the floor holding his face in pain. Luigi picked up the purple dandy by the lapels. A shot rang out. Daisy screamed. Luigi thudded to the floor. Daisy saw their future and the future of his whole family continue to leak out onto the floor. The next moments were a rush of lights and cops and questions.

Waluigi got off on self-defense and skipped town as soon as he could. Wario was found out to be using the club to launder money. The Koopacabana was closed. Daisy got a new job at a flower shop. A couple of years later the Koopacabana reopened under new management. It was turned into a modern nightclub.

~~~~~~

On one particularly lonely day Daisy dressed up in an orange and yellow fringe mini dress and put feathers in her hair and marched down to the nightclub. The set up was about the same. The decorations were flashier and now there was space for the attendees to dance. She beelined it straight to the bar. She was planning on drinking her sorrows away.

“Daisy?” She recognized the accent, but the voice was different. She looked and what she saw made her break. There at the bar was Luigi’s twin brother. Their hair was the same, they had the same eyebrows, same nose, the same eyes. She wept uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry! If I had only gotten him away from this place sooner!” The rest of her words dissolved into incoherent sobs. Mario swept her up and guided her to the door. “It’s okay, cognata.” He tried to sooth her with his words. “It isn’t your fault.” Mario waved down a taxi.

He wasn’t sure where she lived, so he took her to where he was staying. As he walked through the door with the inconsolable woman, he called out. “Mia amor!” a tall blonde woman took Daisy’s other side as they directed her to the washroom. The blonde cleaned Daisy’s face and cooled her down while Mario cooked something that smelled heavenly.

Daisy took some deep breaths. She looked at the blonde woman for the first time. The woman took that to introduce herself. “I’m Peach, I am Mario’s wife.” She had a proper British accent. Daisy shook her head to show she understood but didn’t introduce herself. “I will grab you some comfortable clothes you can take a shower, the towel hanging up there is clean. You can use any of the toiletries.” She left for a minute and reappeared with a T-shirt and some silk pajama pants. “Here these should fit you. After you are done, we have dinner ready.” Then Peach disappeared again.

After the shower she felt better. They all ate together in silence. Daisy tried not to look at Mario in fear that it would bring on new tears. After dinner Peach sat Daisy down on a couch. “Daisy, as soon as Mario could he wanted to find you. We have been here for a full year looking for you.” “Why?” Daisy’s voice cracked. “You w-are the only woman for Luigi.” Daisy squeezed her eyes shut. She started as a whisper and got louder. “He died because of me. You should hate me! He is DEAD because of ME!” She dug her nails into the pajama pants. Peach put her hands over Daisy’s. “He died protecting you, Daisy. Because Luigi loved you! And because Luigi loved you, we love you. We wanted to meet you. The only woman that made Luigi happy.”

Daisy felt someone sit on her other side and a large warm hand was laid on her back. “Cognata, we don’t blame you. We are here to help you. We are famigila.” Daisy finally looked at Mario for the first time since the club. His eyes were kind like Luigi’s, His face sincere like Luigi’s. She took a deep breath and shook her head again signaling that she understood. She took a few more deep breaths. She looked at Mario one more time and asked “Cognata?” “Oh!” He chuckled, “It means sister.” More tears fell but she excepted a hug from these two strangers who had become her new family. A blessing left from Luigi.

**********

Authors notes: A cousin of mine sang Copacabana for karaoke. The story is really sad for a fun song. I wanted to put Daisy and Luigi in the story. But I wanted to make it a little more of a sweeter ending than the song has. Sorry if there are grammatical or spelling errors, please point them out to me. I edit it myself and I miss things all the time.

[bleach-your-panties]

Sincember Event❄️❄️

Rating: Smut🍡

**Jean was the 2nd place poll winner with 23.3% of the vote!**

Christmas has always been your favorite holiday, ever since you were a little girl.

When it came time for you to leave for college, you feared that you wouldn't be able to continue participating in your traditional family holiday activities since you'd be going to college out of the country, let alone out of state.

That was when your long-term boyfriend, Jean, suggested that the two of you make the long journey back to your hometown in the United States for the holidays this year.

When he made the suggestion, you were a bit hesitant since plane tickets from Germany to the U.S. are quite expensive, but he told you not to worry about the cost.

—-

Your family members get along extremely well with Jean upon their first meeting.

He's charismatic, funny, polite, and just an overall joy to be around; especially a hit with your aunties and older female cousins.

You even had to check a couple of them (more than once) when you caught them trying to down talk you and up play themselves in fruitless efforts to try and get Jean to look their way.

That would never work, of course, because this man is irrevocably, undeniably in love with you.

After the commencement of dinner, most of the guests broke off into separate groups, classified by either age or interests. 

Many of your older family members were still seated in the kitchen, sharing old stories and downing a large pitcher of spiked eggnog. 

They may fuss and disagree over a lot of things, but alcohol seems to be the one mediator that will keep everyone from choking each other out. 

A few of your cousins’ girlfriends pulled you away, probably so they could ask you about Jean while the oldheads got drunk in the kitchen and gossiped about their children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews.

—-

“Hey, Y/N! Your boy in there to’ up! Big boy can’t handle his liquor too well!” One of your male cousins laughed as he stepped out onto the back porch. Immediately, you sprung up out of your chair and sprinted through the back door into the house to get to Jean.

You know as well as Jean that he cannot handle his liquor, and, more likely than not, your male cousins had been goading him into drinking above his tolerance.

“Elijah! Y’all just sat here and let him drink all of this!?!” You fussed as your eyes scanned over all of the empty decorative pint glasses.

“Aye, that’s a grown ass man. What was I ‘posed to do, tell him no? He was just having fun!”

Jean was a mess: slumped against the kitchen bar stool and giggling, barely hanging on to the countertop. 

“At least help me get him upstairs so he can lie down. Ain’t this some shit…”

So Elijah helped you get Jean into one of the spare bedrooms. 

—-

His long body flopped unceremoniously onto the quilt laid out on top of the bedspread. You glanced at the door once to make sure that it was locked before turning your disgruntled expression onto your inebriated boyfriend.

Jean was really fucked up; he had a dopey smile spread across his lips that, you couldn't deny, did make him look undeniably cute and handsome.

“Mmm, baby you look so sexy in your Christmas outfit. Want you so bad right now..”

Those sneaky fingers edged along the covers, crawling up to rest on the curve of your covered ass.

“Jean, we can’t fuck in my relatives’ house! Everybody will hear us! You're already loud enough when you're not drunk.” You hissed between your teeth. 

“Please, baby.  I promise I'll be quiet. I'll be a good boy, just please. Please please, fuck me, Mommy, please!” 

Normally you wouldn't have played into his hands during a situation like this, but his desperate begging made a switch turn on in your brain that couldn't be turned off even if you wanted to.

Before you knew it, your fingers were unbuttoning your cardigan and unlatching your bra while Jean smiled up at you drunkenly and tugged your leggings down your thighs.  

“O-oh fuck..” 

Jean’s wet, throbbing dick slapped against your pussy lips as he tried (and failed) to get it into your hole. 

“Here, baby. Let me help you.” Very gently, you took hold of his thick cock and began guiding it between your folds.

As soon as Jean got inside you, he came.

“What the fuck did they put in that eggnog? An aphrodisiac?” You couldn’t believe your fucking eyes right now.

“Fuck, your hands feel so good on me baby, couldn’t control myself. Please let me get inside you, again. Wanna make you feel good, too~”

—-

“F~uuuck, pussy clenching me so fucking good..!” Jean slurred, hazel eyes rolled to the back of his head while he caged you beneath his much larger body.

“Shit, you cumming again, baby?” 

That question became a rhetorical one once you felt his hot speed spurting out of his dick and filling you to the brim once again. Your pussy lips were puffy and swollen from Jean’s overenthusiastic thrusting.

You were going to have to find a way to sneak that quilt up out of here and have it dry cleaned.

“Mmmm-shit. So good~ Need more. Can we go again, please Mommy?” He breathed against the side of your face. Breath sickly sweet, just like eggnog mixed with rum and peppermint vodka.

----

ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ🫶🏽