#The Rest of the Chain: And we support you

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Day 6

Mask(s)

Soft and sweet with just a hint of melancholic because 1.I'm tired and probably need a nap father than coffee, 2.I actually managed to make a pretty good mocha and the Anchorage LOZ animatic came onto my playlist before writing this and it kind of influenced my mood, and 3. I'm saving the usual Majora's Mask flare of angst for another prompt because I was having way too much fun dissecting the tragedy of the Hero of Time before sleep deprivation snatched the idea away which is usually my sign to pass the heck out and save the second option for when I have more energy lol.

For the Warriors fans, also Warriors is a disaster of an older sibling but we adore and appreciate him for it in this household, as always can be implied romantic or platonic between him and reader.

You were all but pinned down to the ground, brought down more effectively and unable to find the strength to get up.

Well, not literally, there were no enemies nearby, the chaos at camp had long since died down and there wasn’t anything much to do now that night had fallen, the heavens deigning to put all of it’s glittering jewels on display.

Were it any other day you’d probably focus more on appreciating it in full, the fire was crackling merrily, you were safe and had a full stomach and even with the ever present threat of the Shadow possibly deciding to ambush you all while most of your guards were down, you had your boys with you and the crisp autumn petrichor was a balm on your soul, weary from the journey.

Maybe it would be fine to rest for a little while.

And then the small figure clinging to you flinched, burrowing closer and holding onto your tunic like a lifeline. And awareness came to you like a smack over the head with a log, your fingers gently carding through blond locks as you hum gently. Weighting options and just how quietly you could move without bothering the precious Sprite at your side.

You had guessed Time had been a sweet kid, and you still wanted to lodge a formal complaint with the gods for writing such cruel fate for him because the man couldn’t catch a break and you’re not the only one to take it personally. But he was killing you here, this is how you die, with an adorable but oh so heartbreakingly sad little boy having fallen asleep leaning against you after telling you all sorts of stories about his extensive mask collection.

(You don’t know wether you want to cry, scream or laugh, Mask was so, so young. It breaks your heart, just a little.

Really, the deities of Hyrule must adore tragedies. Bastards.)

Sighing, you decide to compromise, gently keeping the Kokiri boy right where he is, fast asleep and with barely any nightmares as you hum and card your fingers through the spun gold strands, you brush your fingers through the last masks he fell asleep mid through telling the story of how he’d acquired. If you were careful surely you’d be able to reach his pack on his side so he wouldn’t worry later.

A pair of brown boots invade your vision, Warriors crouches down. You think you spot a flash of surprise on his eyes as he spots Mask napping on you, and then fond amusement of a big brother you knew he directed often towards Wind, tone low, “Well would you look at that, out like a light. It’s a rare honor for him to trust anyone like this.”

You chuckle a bit, shaking your head, “I can tell, he’s a good kid. I’ve barely met him for a day and I’d already take on an army for him.”

“Welcome to my world.”, comes Warriors dry response, though you both knew he was a hundred percent serious, his own mask quickly falling away as he gently picked up the Deku Sprout Mask to put it back in the small sprite’s pouch, hiding it’s confused, fearful sadness from your gaze (and it’s an effort, not to twitch, as your rage towards Majora gained even more kindling to burn) as the soldier handled it with the due solemnity of being one of the few Mask would allow to even touch the masks without his immediate supervision, “... I never thought I’d see him again, as...”

“I know.” Your tone was quiet, as you carefully picked your choice of words.

If there’s one thing you knew about any Link, is that they’re all really good elder brother’s and that they are too hard on themselves. Warriors specially, Mask and Wind were his everything, there wouldn’t be words that could describe how gutted he was, after confirming his suspicions with you, regretting not saying anything against Mask joining the battle field back then, loathing himself for not convincing him or Lana into letting him stay in spite of his bad feeling that as soon as the young hero of time passed through that portal he was unlikely to ever meet him again.

... You settle for something simple, instead, reaching a hand to softly pat his head, taking care not to mess his hair too much, “You did good, Wars, it’s not your fault. Mask also knows you did your best.”

He still, sighing, the mask falling away as he guides your hand to his lips, quietly thankful (really, like big brother like little brother, your wonderful, silly, caring boys. You make a point to cheerfully bat away the butterflies in your stomach, ), “... Feels hard to believe that, some times. Thank you.”

You hum, after putting the Zora mask away, Warriors takes Mask’s other side, pulls you closer and breathes.

(Just in case, he lies to himself.)

You quietly listen to his stories about his little brother, and Warriors is content.

[sukunas-wife]

Sealed 2

1 3

“Year after year after year the hours pass and it never ends, I’ve been here for millennia is Ryomen even trying?” You sat down onto the pile of bones, skeletons supporting you the best they could. The Prison Realm had become your domain, you’d molded every bone and skeleton to do your work. Your elbow resting on the spine of skeleton your cheek pressing against your fist as you stared bored.

Looking down the pile of bones and skeletons holding up your throne that you had formed to match Sukuna’s you saw two Skeletons battling for your amusement. Sighing you slouched back in your throne, watching the two headed four armed skeleton using sharpened bones as spears, fighting a towering 6 armed Skelton. His arms like vices ready to grab and shove whatever into its gaping rib cage to crush it. “This needs more!” The two skeletons looked up at you, before the rumbling of the skeletal centaur could be heard, a centaur of bone, his torso with 4 arms, it held an extended spine as if it were a chain. Lower two arms ready to grab at anything, more specifically rip off the head and spine of its opponents.

“YES! THIS IS what we need!” You smacked the skeleton who stood near you on the back. His bones shaking as you leaned forward, you’d find out soon which of your creations was truly the strongest. “Let’s get this show started-“ it was quick blur of red and black before you were standing head tilted to the side as you stared irked at the man in front of you. “Do YOU KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID.”

“PLEASE FORGIVE ME! I BEG FOR MERCY I SPENT MUCH OF MY LIFE LOOKING FOR THIS TREASURE THATS BEEN hidden away heating the tales of how the sourcerer’s of old time had wrongly imprisoned a Diety of Fertility separating her from her son. I just come to beg and ask you give my wife your blessing to have a child were old in age but she’s always prayed and begged. I’ve run out of hope until i heard you tale, i beg and hoped you’d have mercy- Sit up” was all you said. The man went from groveling to sitting back on his heels. Sighing the conflict inside of you was great. You looked around tucking your arms into the sleeves of your worn Kimono. “Bring me your wife,” you looked up through the canopy of the trees you see the sun at mid day, “you have two sunsets and then I leave.” The man quickly bowed again at your feet thanking you before running off. You kicked the prison realm box “Damnit who won!” You snatched it up, the air was familiar, you started to look around. The reason it was so familiar was because it wasn’t to far from where you had been sealed. The skeletal remains of the sourcerers made you seethe. You found the remains of the man who sealed you grabbing his skull with your free hand making it look at you, “my child my husband,” you crushed it without fail, “you took it all from me and now everyone will pay.” Th tears falling down were hot. Dropping the remains you started your first technique “Reanimate.” A wave of purple radiated from you, hitting every border of the palace. Skeletal remains shaking and coming together to stand, “Get this place back into shape.” They started moving, you made your way inside the palace the inside help had been reanimated also, your ladies in waiting now remains, standing beside you as you enter “Find fabric I need new robes.” They rushed off and you made it to your old room, the massive bed your son had fallen off many times when he would try to sleep with you and his dad. The wardrobe filled with your husband’s old robes. The room was dusty and smelt humid, shoving the window open you tried not to cry, on the window sill was a talisman Sukuna had created for Yuji. Sniffling you turned your head, finding a small blanket and stuffed Tiger doll Yuji carried around that morning. A gift for his 2nd birthday that he loved and it showed on the tigers rugged appearance.

“My Yuji..” your faint whisper sounding so loud in the silence as you ran your fingers of the stuffed doll holding it close to your chest as you made your way around the room planning your moves. Your plans had always been to follow in similar steps to Sukuna. Except that you’d be known for good to balance out the evil perspective they had of your husband. First, fix your palace. Second, create miracles in the closest town or village to make profit and move into a bigger city to improve profits. Find wherever Sukuna had been sealed away, and break him free. Find Yuji and take him back from this cruel world.

❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️

It’s been over 100 more years and you’d grown accustomed to the changing in technology and times, passing the crowds into your shrine you smiled ruffling the heads of kids who smiled up at you, rubbing the plump bellies of pregnant women you passed and “blessing” the sick with instant health with simply laying a hand on them and smiling kindly.

Entering your shrine for the last time your Gentlemen in waiting was packing up what was left. The last thing left was the main room where your wide throne sat, you’d be leaving it being to your followers, the cushions you provided for your followers during your sessions. “Morí.” You called out and he came from the room he was in bowing and holding his hands out in front of him. “Yes Lady Y/n?”

“Morinozuka, we’re leaving tonight to Sendai City. The mark of my binding vow is burning more, but are you sure that’s where we need to go?”

“Yes Lady Y/n.” He spoke not looking up from his bow. You nodded, “then it’s final.”

❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️

“So this is the place?” You turned to Morí and he nodded. “It’s not as lavish but this is the closest we can get… Your excellency.. I strongly recommend you continue to hide your cursed energy until I suggest otherwise.” You nodded getting out of the car “Very well, I will.”

It was morning when you had arrived, standing in front of the door to the house you looked over an elder man was walking out of his house he looked over and you smiled at him and he had a very faint twitch of his lip. Until a man with pink hair came out, follows by a woman with black hair and you felt it. The pulse of cursed energy and instinctively you grabbed Mori by his robes and pulled him towards you, “That woman, she’s no woman that- is the carrier of your child.” You head snapped instantly to him, “The father of my child, that’s the sorcerer who knew Sukuna, and he is going to mother my child?” Your face showing your exact emotions Mori placing a hand over yours, “Lady Y/n, please recollect your thoughts. I can assure you he will NOT be mothering your child, and her husband will not be fathering him either.” Letting go of his robes you nodded. Looking over your shoulder you watched the couple get into a car the elder man scowling when they started to drive away.

Turning to look at you he tucked his arms behind his back walking over, “Good Morning I’m L/n Y/n.” You greeted bowing after you moved closer, he dismissed you with a wave of your hand. “Morning, Wasuke Itadori.” He cocked a brow and looked over at your house, “It’s been up for sale for a long time. Almost 3 years before someone has moved in.” You looked back at your house, “I moved in to get closer to work. I thought it was just a blessing for everything to line up so perfectly.”

He nodded, “Well, blessings only go so far here. My son’s wife is something I’d consider to be a curse.” You nodded, “oddly enough I wouldn’t disagree. I know a snake when I see one and from a brief glance I wouldn’t trust her at all.”

He nodded, “Have a good day moving in, if you need help my son and his wife will be returning soon. I’m sure either of them would be willing to help with any problems.”

“Have a good day Mr.Itadori.” You bowed your head slightly and you both went separate ways.

“Mori,” you sighed entering your house “count these days.”

[yzzart]

hii!! love your work and i appreciate you so much for writing for tom <3 i was wondering if you could write a tom blyth x reader for the interview the cast did of how well the know each other??

An unfair test.

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: do you, Rachel and Josh, really, know Tom?

word count: 1.990!

notes: anon, you don't know how much i enjoy writing these types of interviews and i love you for requesting this! — and i'm serious, I LOVE writing this!

"And today, we'll be competing against each other to see how well we know our friend Tom Blyth!" — You explained, crossing your legs and excited about what could happen.

"And I'm saying…" — Rachel raised a finger up, supporting it in a sign of pronouncement. — "I'm saying that I think it's unfair for Y/N to participate in this!" — She laughed, looking at you and, soon, wanting support from Josh; you took one of the small cards that Tom was holding, which was part of the game, and placed it on your face, holding it.

"I also think!" — Josh confessed. — "Is asking his girlfriend to answer questions about him cheating?" — He asked, jokingly, with his arms raised.

"Not in my world." — Tom mentioned, shrugging his shoulders, looking at the camera and pointing the small white cards towards it.

"Are you afraid of losing?" — Now it was your turn to tease, arching your eyebrows and running a hand through some strands of your hair and returning the small card to your boyfriend.

"Oh yeah?" —Rachel said; while, Tom's hand gently and knowingly held your and the camera captured and focused on the moment. - "Look at this!" — She exclaimed, surprised and Josh's laugh was followed by the camera.

"Alright, let's do it." — Tom continued with an excited tone, moving the pen, which will be used, and reading for quick seconds the question that was on one of the cards. — "First question…" — He placed the card with the name 'Vanity Fair' on his chest. — "…what is my biggest fear?"

Tom looked at you, with a funny look of complicity and as if he was saying "oh, you know the answer" and it was, impossible, to try or contain the laughter. — Receiving looks and attention from Rachel and Josh.

"She knows." — Josh stated, thinking about his possible answer or something that could come to a correct conclusion. — "She definitely knows." — Leaning on the chain, you touched his arm.

"It's kind of funny to look at you and be like, hm, let me guess." — Rachel leaned over, resting her fingers on her chin, indicating a thoughtful pose and appearance. — "Let me guess, you don't wanna die alone." — She laughed. — "Please, Y/N, give me a clue!" — Her head rested on your shoulder.

"Wait, i guess i'm not so sure about my answer." — Tom's eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened, dramatically, a little at your words. — "I just think! "— You bit your lip, poking his knee.

"I have a guess." — Rachel turned to her boyfriend, waiting for him to say something or even give the correct answer.

"I think, mine is probably a little bit more shallow, but i think i got a guess, too." — Tom laughed at Josh's comment.

"Mine's the opposite." — Rachel said. — "You have a fear of like open water." — She observed some reaction or at least a simple speck of something new on his face, trying to guess if she was correct, but, she found nothing. — "Okay, you don't."

"What, is that your guess?" — He asked, tilting his head, as if wanting confirmation and certainty, to Rachel.

"Yeah, that's my guess." — She shook her head.

"Okay, Josh?" — Tom asked.

"I was gonna say mountain lions." — He reflected, still not sure if he would really go ahead with this guess and loud, synchronized laughter erupted in the room.

"In what way is this more shallow?" — Your boyfriend questioned himself and looked for a justification, a meaning for that comment. — "I'm curious."

"That's very poetic, in certain words." — You raised his hand in defense.

"I thought you were gonna say something like conceptual." — He referred to Rachel's guess, which failed along the way, and tried to justify it.

"Are you sure about your guess, darling?" — Tom pointed the card, with the answer, at you and he couldn't hide, even biting his lip, the anxious smile and, really, hoping that you would say the right answer. — "Or will it be a concrete answer?"

"You're making me nervous, excuse me?" — Rachel and Josh laughed. — "Definitely snakes." — You replied confidently, looking at your boyfriend and then at the camera.

"Actually, ironically, and that's like my childhood fear…" — He waved his hand. — "…which i've already overcome." — Tom finally turned the little card over so that the answer was visible and being revealed. — "Snakes!"

"The purest irony, that's incredible." — Tom pointed at you, a sign of affirmation. — "And so funny at the same time."

"Yes!" — He turned the card over again.. — "I was afraid of snakes when i was a kid because i saw a lot of Indiana Jones, and i watched a lot." — A scenario of little Tom watching Indiana Jones played in his head, causing a smile to appear on his lips. — "And i feel like this fear transformed me, you know?"

"Because cool people can be afraid of snakes." — Rachel added.

"Because cool people are afraid of snakes." — Tom agreed.

"And the fact that on set, we had two snakes, and you had to act with them for one part, is impressive." — Tom once again placed his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly.

"But, i'm not afraid of them anymore." — Maybe, a little, but, he wouldn't say at that moment. — "I've had a lot of therapy, honey." — You laughed. — "That's my biggest childhood fear, like, it's the first thing that would come to my mind if you asked me that."

In the future, during the editing of the video, a scoreboard with your name, Rachel's and Josh's would appear at that moment and with each one's score. — And you would be ahead, even with your colleagues' comments about how unfair it seemed that you were winning. — Indeed.

"Next question!" — Tom warned, holding up another card. — "Who is my ideal dinner guest?" — He looked at you again as you thought of yet another answer or possible guess.

"Normally, i would say, but, anyway." — You shrugged, pretending to be thinking about something and got laughs in the room, including from the people who were working behind the cameras; Rachel rested her hand on your back, still laughing. — "This is difficult even for me."

"That's my first and foremost answer!" — Tom stuttered confidently, lifting the paper carefully so that the answer wasn't visible. — "But, let's consider a second option."

"I'm going to say Francis Lawrence…" — Rachel suggested, slowly, and focusing on the main camera in front of her. — "…director of The Hunger Games." — You laughed. — "And to be fair, we'd all have him as a special guest, and he's the best guest."

"He's a great dinner guest." — You mumbled. — "I think he could easily be my guess."

"Oh, mine too." — Rachel positioned herself. — “And i feel like you, that's your ideal, someone who can talk about wine and loves food.” — She paused, thinking about her words and acting as if she said something. — "Y/N could fit that description like a shame, now that i see it." — Her voice swore, and turning her head towards you .

"I was going to say that now!" — Josh said, crossing his arms. — "My guess, which i feel is terrible, is going to be Cyndi Lauper, you know." — He uncrossed his arms, resting one of them on his leg and Rachel hugged the other.

"Okay, okay." — Tom turns the paper to the camera. — "I think it would be David Bowie." — God, you would never get that right.

"I swear he didn't cross my mind for a second." — Your head shook in denial, and in disbelief.

"Me too, i wouldn't understand that." — Josh looked at one of the cameras and Rachel moved one of her hands, a little in disbelief and intrigued.

"What it is, i just think it would be really fun." — Tom tried to justify. — "Okay, so, we have no points for Rachel and Josh and…" — He acted out a movement like they were playing a drum. — "…one point for Y/N."

"We are terrible." — Rachel confessed to her boyfriend. — "Terrible."

“And i feel like she can get another point now.” — Tom read the question quickly, before looking at you, who furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"Really?" — You questioned, shook your leg and the british nodded.

"What's my go-to karaoke song?" — He read it and, in the same second, he started writing the answer and thousands of songs ran through his mind; one after the other.

The last karaoke night where you and Tom were present was recent; and, magically, incredible to the point of completing an album of photos and videos in your gallery. — However, it was clearly impossible to conclude what his favorite song was. — And it wasn't an exaggeration or anything like that.

"And you saying i was going to get this one right." — Your complaint passed through the ears of your boyfriend, who showed an incredulous expression.

"Our last karaoke night was, like, two weeks ago?" — Tom didn't remember, and he remembered few things. — "I think, i'm not sure."

"I'm not going to karaoke with you guys" — Rachel's soft voice introduced. — "And i need to start going." — She turned to Josh and you.

"I don't think you sing." — Josh looked up as he spoke.

"He actually sings." — You answered him. — "And he dedicates himself like no one else, a true spectacle."

“I will say it was definitely a punk rock thing.” — Josh's guess entered his mind, and he thought about agreeing with it. — "Something like."

"I would say that a chorus of a Spice Girls or Backsteet Boys song with your voice crossed my mind, but i don't want to consider it as a guess right now." — You placed your hand on your mouth, laughing at the fictional scenario.

"And i would say i don't know what to say." — Rachel murmured. — "Serious."

"I'll give you a hint, it's probably not what you'd expect." — Tom tried to help, but nothing came to her mind.

"I guess that didn't help, dear."

"Mambo number five…" — Josh suggested, speaking quietly, but sure of his guess.

"Josh's mambo number five, what's your guess?" — Blyth directed the small card towards you and Rachel, waiting for your response.

"Any of backsteet boys." — You didn't even specify any of the group's songs, and you wouldn't even have time to choose them; it was as if all their names had disappeared from your consciousness. — "Any one."

"I'm gonna say…" — Rachel thought.

"No, i'll change mine to All the small things." — At the last second, Josh changed his guess and you thought about changing but decided against it.

"All the small things, okay." — Tom pointed out.

"I'm going to say 'I miss you' by Blink 182." — Rachel said with certainty, as there weren't many options due to the lack of opportunities to attend singing nights.

"Wow, it's really the 2000s." — He separated some cards on his lap before turning to the question. — "The answer is, somewhat surprisingly…" — For the third time, Tom turns over the paper with the answer. — "Senhorita by Justin Timberlake."

The disbelieving and doubtful reactions and expressions on your faces were met by Tom's warm and loud laugh. — None of you expected that song. — And you don't remember him singing it.

Or, simply put, that memory was in the back of your mind.

"No chance, not possible." — You said intrigued, looking at your boyfriend and shaking your head in denial, for the second time.

"I don't remember you singing that." — Josh also tried to remember or have some memory with the mentioned song but nothing happened, he didn't remember either. — "Serious."

"We sing!" — Tom insinuated, pointing at you and Josh, who looked at each other and still don't remember the moment; that is if it really existed and he sang that song. — "Because Y/N mentioned Backsteet boys, we can put at least half a point." — Therefore, your name would have a new punctuation, even though it was small and not very valid. — "And she continues ahead!"

"Oh, i give up." — Rachel and Josh spoke at the same time, holding their hands up and laughing loudly.

[rynwritesreid]

I am obsessed w Ryan Gosling wearing a necklace with his wife’s initials on it to the Barbie Premiere!!!! Can we see Spencer doing the same thing, maybe to the office or a team dinner ? 😍

A/N: this is such a cute idea, and if I am being honest this is defo something early to mid season Spencer would have done. Thank you for the request:)

Summary: it’s basically as requested. I have added in some detail about other women flirting with him and that’s why he decides to wear it, but he does still wear it to the office.

Content: fluff. Fem!reader. Other people flirt with Spencer, but he doesn’t reciprocate.

Masterlist| requests are open| navigation

Spencer was aware he got attention from other women; he knew he was attractive. He never flirted back, or really gave anyone else the time of day and he was very open with the fact he was in a very committed relationship with you. You were also not prone to jealousy, you didn’t really like other people trying to flirt with Spencer, but you understood he was an attractive and very intelligent man. 

Spencer though, he had become to hate it. He didn’t understand why people didn’t care he loved you, that he was in a relationship with you, and only wanted you. He, being the ever-intelligent man he is, had come up with a solution.

“Hey, I have something to show you.” Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled out a medium sized box. “Before you get too excited, this isn’t a ring. It’s a necklace with your initials on it.” 

“Are you going to wear that?” you asked with a smile, feeling a warm flutter in your chest as you looked at the delicate necklace in Spencer's hand. The silver chain glinted under the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the window, and the initials intertwined beautifully, a testament to your bond.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. I want everyone to know who my heart belongs too.” 

And with a tender smile, Spencer carefully fastened the necklace around his neck, the cool metal resting against his warm skin. As it settled into place, he stood up and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a tight embrace. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, steady and sure.

"I love you," Spencer whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "And I want the whole world to know that you're mine."

*

The next day, Spencer turned up to work wearing the necklace. JJ was the first to notice, her eyes scanning the necklace, wondering why he had suddenly started wearing jewellery.

"What's that, Spence?" JJ asked, tilting her head in curiosity. Spencer smiled, his eyes lighting up as he adjusted the necklace instinctively.

"It's for Y/N," he replied proudly, his voice tinged with a newfound sense of determination. "I want everyone to know that she's the one I love."

JJ's gaze softened as she took in his words, understanding the significance of the gesture. She nodded approvingly, a small smile playing on her lips.

"That's sweet, Spencer," JJ said, her tone genuine. "I'm happy for you both."

Derek had overheard what JJ had said to Spencer, and while he also did think it was cute and he would never tell a man that wearing any jewellery wasn’t masculine, he still wanted to tease Spencer a little. 

"Hey Pretty Boy, since when did you become a fashion icon?" Derek teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he sauntered over to Spencer's desk. Spencer rolled his eyes good-naturedly, used to Derek's playful banter.

“Oh, you think I’m a fashion icon because this, Derek?” Spencer grinned, a playful glint in his eye as he adjusted the necklace once more. "Well, let's just say I'm setting a new trend."

Derek chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Alright, Reid, if you say so. Just don't let Garcia catch you. She might think you're stealing her accessory game."

Spencer laughed at the thought of Garcia's reaction, imagining her excitement at seeing him embrace a new fashion statement. It felt good to have his friends' support and light-hearted teasing about his gesture towards you.

No one else seemed to care, Garcia had done a squeal of excitement when she saw the necklace and realised the initials were yours. But other than that, no one seemed to fuss over it.

*

Though he had noticed that he friends and colleagues didn’t seem to care about his necklace anymore, he had noticed how other women would interact with him. They seemed to glare at the two initials dangling around his neck and back off.

Spencer found himself almost amused by the reaction of the women who used to flirt with him. Their glares held a mix of disappointment and frustration, as if his simple act of wearing a necklace had somehow dashed their hopes. He couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at their reactions, knowing that he was making it clear to everyone where his heart truly belonged.

~join my taglist~

~taglist~

@purplepistachi0 @iluvreid @nomajdetective @drspencieee@ms-ks-world@evvy96 @oliviah-25 @starkid024 @emalyntgtgfhvgg@krokietino @julllliiia @xohoneybun @spencerreidwifeee@pleasantwitchgarden @Theillestvillian3@bitchassbecky691 @piperb400@queermaxwooo @gemofthenight @cham9ions @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @Catsareawesomek@anna-belle-xd@drreidsfavwhxre@Oureternalbond@beth-gallagher22 @firstunmannedflyingdeskset @waywardhunter95 @r-3dlips @k3nzxx @keiva1000 @peppersapro @just-a-harmless-patato @miss.daianaa@spenxerslut @skulliecadaver-blog @svnfully @reidsgirlhottie @bluepuppethidinginafilingcabinet @lover-of-books-and-tea @indigosamsblog

[rztaros]

: infinite

synopsis. despite the fact you two were meant to be at practice on time, clarisse just can't stop kissing you. pairing. clarisse la rue x fem!r genre. fluff wc. 370 now playing. nonsense by sabrina carpenter . . . 💿 notes. 💬 lowercase intended + flirty clarisse (clearing my drafts out rn)

how to help the palestinians. brands to boycott support the people of palestine w/ shams akel moveon petition to pres. biden donate esims to gaza click to help palestine masterlist donations, petitions, campaigns, && upcoming protests staying silent or staying "neutral" in this ongoing genocide is just as bad as standing with the oppressor.

"clar, we have to go," you'd mutter for the tenth time, attempting to push away from clarisse's loving grip. for the past few minutes, the daughter of ares kept you on her lap, pressing kisses against your lips repeatedly.

she'd hum against your lips, pressing her lips against yours once more, shaking her head slightly. clarisse would maneuver you around, pulling you closer, as her hands would rest on your hips.

"i'm serious, la rue," you'd grumble, though the wide, radiant smile would shatter the sense of frustration you supposedly held.

"not yet, pretty girl."

and for the next few minutes, the continuous pushing and pulling wouldn't stop, as you would inevitably give in to the curly-haired girl's antics every couple attempts. you thought it was practically impossible to not indulge when clarisse's flawlessly velvety lips were against yours, and her hands guiding your head and body against hers in harmony.

of course, you'd continue kissing her, waiting for the right moment to push away. once she pulled back—just slightly to adjust her position— you'd use it to your advantage, trying to separate from the curly-haired girl.

"okay— okay, that's enough, clar," you'd chuckle, your hand on her cheek, caressing it gently.

before you could fully escape from her touch, her grasp would be right back on you, pulling you back onto her lap, and eliciting a squeal from you.

"c'mon, i'm sure practice can wait," she'd whisper into your ear, sending a chain of shivers through your body. "plus, a few minutes more shouldn't bother anyone."

followed by clarisse shooting a shit-eating grin that had you melting on the spot, you'd roll your eyes, giving into your temptations. you'd dive right back into kissing her again, your guys' lips in perfect sync against one another.

by the time those few extra minutes clarisse insisted on were up, the corners of your mouth would quirk downward, as you'd wish you two had more time. though, clarisse wouldn't care, insisting once more that she just needs a couple of minutes, and that's all.

of course, you take her proposal, your lips meeting hers again. and in that moment, all you could feel was clarisse and the world, both infinitely yours.

i don't want no one else (don't want)

baby, i'm in too deep (too deep)

[carlosbaldellou]

The kind and the furious

When humanity was welcomen in the stars, nobody knew what to expect of these deathworlders. Their world looked stunning. Full of life. Well, mostly. They had serene places, fruit trees neatly arranged. Sure, the tectonic activity was on the high end of the spectrum, but perfectly livable. But then, you noticed the animals. The arms race of evolution. Predators that evolved to avoid other predators. Hervibores with toxines so potent as to wipe out the largest predator animal in the galaxy. Predators that somehow evolved to resist those toxins and other ludicrous natural defenses. It was... madness, to most of the galaxy.

Humanity spread far and wide. They had looked into the dark abyss of space for a long time, and now that they could roam trough it, they went everywhere. Small human settlements started to pop up everywhere. The races were cautious, but this new species seemed like a good neighbour. So they welcomed them, still unsure as to how to clasify them.

Untill a disaster happened. A huge chain explosion in a residential area. Buildings collapsed and fire roared. The emergency response teams were overwhelmed. But they, with time, managed to quench the fire and control the situation.

And then, the humans came. With their personal vehicles. From neighbouring cities. From far away cities. They started to clean the rubble, even if it was not their duty. They helped the victims. Looked for survivors. Cared for them. Healed them. Sure, kindness and help from your own species was expected to a degree, but from another species? It was unheard of. You cared for your own. But humans were different. They were kind to everyone. They helped as they could. Preparing meals. Setting up tents. Moving rubble... And every time a survivor was found, they cheered with enthusiasm.

The galaxy at large looked at them. And humanity was labeled as the kindest species in the falactic collective.

That is, until it was found what had happened. While moving rubble, some metallic carcass was found. One that was traced to an explosive from a species outside the galactic empire. Tensions rose. War broke out a couple years ago.

Humans joined the war. Everyone thought they were kind. Everyone tought they would provide support.

Everyone was wrong.

When humans started fighting, they showed why they were the dominant species of their world. Sure, they did not have vicious claws. Sure, they did not have venoms. Sure, they were not armoured. But they were smart. They were cunning. They had planned for stellar warfare before we found them. They already had devised strategies. Simple, brutal strategies.

Humanity grabbed the biggest asteroid they could find, strapped some rockets to it and launched it straight to the enemy positions. Their fleet, guarding behind it. Using it as cover. When tvey were found out, they jumped to defend that asteroid. They were a small group agains an entire planet. Nobody tought the humans could win.

Everyone was wrong.

Humans fought with all their cunning and might. They fought with ferocity and ruthlessness. Disabling thrusters and energy systems first. Then leaving the poor enemy ships to die. They were no longer a threat. The asteroid advanced and got into descent orbit. Impact was inevitable. And the humans left. They had done their job. A quarter of the world was wiped from the initial blast. The rest of the planet was uninhabitable, and would be for a long time.

Humans fought. Their strategies evolving. Changing to counter their enemies as they started to be prepared. Always a step beyond. Always with a new warfare solution. Orbital bombardment with titanium rods, cloaking technogy never seen before, new ship designs seemingly every day.

Humans fought. Captive humans found ways to escape prison and sabotage the enemy from within. Wounded humans went to fight again while still recovering. Their savagery in limit situations scared allies and enemies alike.

The war ended with the enemy surrendering completely. Mostly thanks to the humans. Peace was signed. And then, the humans sent aid to the defeated enemy. Cargo ships full of medicine and food started arriving. Human troopers helping with the reconstruction efforts.

Humans, like their homeworld, were a race of extremes. Capable of the biggest acts of kindness the galaxy had ever seen, but also the most furious and savage acts when it was necessary.

------

Hope you all like it. It's my first story of this kind

[hyunsvngs]

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐢𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 - modern royalty au!lee felix x female reader

wc: 10.4k

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: idiots in love (AND THEY FINALLY ADMITTED IT!), no use of y/n, sickeningly sweet pet names (again), felix is really in love and also horny as fuck, mc is thinking about sex 24/7, mentions of nausea but no vomiting, smut warnings under the cut!

synopsis: you and your best friend completed the main objective of your royal lives - your arranged marriage. you’ve both finally confessed your love to each other, and it seems that nothing can go wrong… until the public’s opinion of you becomes clear.

a/n: THE FINAL PART OF FAIRY FLOWERS. I PROMISE YOU THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING AND IS REALLY CUTE AND SMUTTY AND FLUFFY. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SUPPORTING THIS SERIES AND I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS PART AS MUCH AS THE OTHERS :D

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: oral (m&f receiving), d/s dynamics (both fulfil both roles at some point, but never anything too heavy), INTENSE BREEDING KINK, panty sniffing but they’re still on, pet names in bed, unprotected sex, creampies, slight degradation (he calls mc stupid in bed), squirting

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“How long?”

Felix hummed, brushing his fingers through your hair. He’d been trying to plait some daisies that he’d picked from the meadow into the locks, but he’d given up halfway through. “Forever.”

You sniffed. You’d been crying for what felt like hours, since Felix had confessed to you and taken you back to your room to lay down. You’d since wrapped up warm in pajamas again and were taking the day to yourselves. You both had a lot to process, after all. “Me too, Pixie.”

You could almost feel Felix vibrating with excitement. “I’m sorry, but I have to say - we are both really fucking dumb, sugarplum.”

You giggled, nodding against his chest where you were laying. 

“I was so over the moon when you agreed to marry me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it hadn't been you. I just didn’t know how to tell you, I was so scared of ruining the friendship and what we had, and then… you gave me that book,” he finished. He’d said it all in one breath, and he was now almost panting. “I knew then. Or, I thought I knew. I decided I’d risk it anyway and confess, and I had this whole elaborate thing planned. But then you left!”

You groaned, moving to lay so you were looking up at him on his chest. “You can kind of blame Chan for that. He told me you’d read the book, and then you denied it, so then I thought… I thought you’d read it, and then decided I was a freak or something and didn’t want to say anything to me about it.”

Felix shook his head, smiling softly. “I think it’s one of the bravest things you’ve ever done. I was so proud of you when I had finally processed everything, sugarplum.”

You grinned back, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his lips. You loved that you could just fucking do that now, and it was normal. 

“Do you wanna hear the confession? Like, what I had planned?”

“Um, do I? Of fucking course! Tell me, tell me!” You shrieked. You positioned yourself so that your leg was swung over his thighs, fingers dancing up his hoodie to rest on his abs in a moment of non-sexual intimacy. Your Prince still shuddered anyway. 

He took a deep breath. “Okay, so. I was going to take you to our meadow at sunset, and I was going to already have a daisy chain made for you. I had plans to put some little lanterns around on a picnic blanket and have some fruit there for us to pick at and eat. I was going to tell you that there was one quote that really stuck with me in the book, when Knightley says ‘if I loved you less-‘“

“‘I might be able to talk about it more.’ It’s my favorite quote. Cliche, because it is the most famous, but it’s just beautiful, isn’t it?” Felix hummed in agreement. You started to trace circles on his soft, tanned skin. 

“It’s my favorite too. It reminded me of you. If I had loved you less, I wouldn’t be so scared about risking everything, and I could’ve told you. I could’ve told you that I love you, and everything would’ve been so much easier,” Felix confessed. Your heart felt like it was about to burst with love. You’d compared you and Felix to Emma and Mr. Knightley, and Felix had done the exact same. “Anyway, I really thought about that, and I made you a daisy chain. It’s probably wilted now, but I was going to give it to you. The wedding ring means we’re married, yeah, but a daisy chain is just so us, isn’t it? That’s more of a show of love to me.”

“Not sure I would’ve understood your confession from just a daisy chain and a quote, Pixie, but sure-“

“I’m not done!” Felix yelled. You chuckled, motioning for him to continue. He sighed, looking deep into your eyes. “Anyway, I was going to say all of that, and then I was going to kiss you, like super romantically. Then, I would tell you that I loved you and that I always have loved you, sugarplum. I know it’s simple, but-“

You surged forward, pressing your lips to his. Felix let out a small squeak in surprise, but quickly took it in his stride, using his left hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

You couldn’t be happier. You’d finally got him - and you didn’t feel selfish at all.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“I’m so… fucking… pissed.” Felix was panting at the door to your bedroom. Your shared bedroom, may you add. You wanted to twirl your hair and kick your feet every time you remembered it. You slept together here, amongst… other things. Looking up from your book, you blinked at him. Reading Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time hadn’t been boring at all to you - there was always something in you that made you obsess over Mr. Darcy. He was the dream, seriously. Well, the fictional dream. Your dreams coming to life existed in the form of your best friend, now husband, all small frame and bleached hair of him.

He was out of breath, sweating, immediately stripping his shirt off to throw it on the floor. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Why was he so disheveled? “Lixie… did you run here?” 

“Yes,” He whined, throwing himself on top of you on the couch. You’d lit the fireplace in the room and perched on the couch in your most comfortable clothes for the day. You’d had nothing else to do, no duties. Being a Princess now meant you had so much to do all the time, so it was a welcomed change by you to be able to just lounge around comfortably in an oversized shirt and underwear, nothing else. He laid on top of you, disturbing the peace, but his limbs splayed everywhere on top of your body was also welcomed by you. “I’m so mad, I just had to run!”

“Okay,” You hummed, slotting the bookmark into your book and shutting it, putting it on the floor. You tried to stay calm, hoping that your energy would rub off on your husband and calm down the temper that he was in. Felix grabbed your hand and put it in his hair, and you dutifully started scratching. It had become so comfortable to be in a relationship with him, to be married to him for real - there were no other changes, except for the fact that you now had sex - a lot - and slept in the same bed every night. You could even kiss him without shame, which was another fact that you had yet to process. “Do you wanna tell me why you’re so pissed off then, or…?”

He mumbled something incoherently into your chest, making your ears perk. What? Seriously, he was so frustrating - just speak up! You chided yourself. He was in a bad mood, over whatever it was, and it’s totally not his fault that he’s feeling a little nonverbal about it.

“Sorry, what? I can’t hear you, Pixie.”

Felix raised his head slightly, turning to face the flickering fireplace but staying rested on your chest. The fireplace lit up his features, highlighting high cheekbones and pouty lips with a defined cupid’s bow. He got more beautiful every time you saw him, especially with his exposed tan skin at that moment - the flames from the fireplace made him look warm toned, like the sweet cup of coffee you like to help yourself to in the morning. Energising and tempting. You wondered, rather inconsiderately, if you could jump his bones after he’d vented to you. You still had your legs crossed from the moment he entered the room, back pressed up against the armrest and legs obscured with a thick, fluffy blanket. He hadn’t even noticed you were clad in only an oversized bed t-shirt with your underwear underneath, your legs and the blanket covering the exposure.

“It’ll make you sad, I think. I’d hate to make you sad, sugarplum,” He whispered, almost solemnly. You hummed again. Maybe it would make you sad, but if it would make your Prince feel better, you wanted to know. You voiced this statement and he sighed almost immediately. “Okay. People are getting a bit unhappy with the royal family. You’re not really a noble, and people have been… considering you the servant’s daughter, I guess. I dunno. People have also clued in to our marriage being arranged, even though we’re denying it completely, so… They’re angry. Yeah, they’re fucking pissed, sugarplum.”

The rage hit you at once. You shut your eyes. They’re angry? You’re fucking angry. How dare they speak down on you like that? You’ve had years of etiquette training, the same fucking education as their prized Prince. You knew him better than anyone else. You wanted to scream. It had made you frustrated at Felix, when it wasn’t his fault at all. 

The heat of the fireplace was now lighting your own fire, deep inside your heart that made you want to lash out against anyone that wasn’t Felix. You knew Felix, knew he would’ve done everything to stand up for you. You weren’t doubtful of that in the slightest. He’d wrap you up in cotton wool even if there was only one person saying you were slightly annoying.

Felix sat up, waving his hand in front of your face. “Hello? You didn’t say anything. Are you upset…? Oh God, you’re sad, I’m so sorry-“

“Lix, shut up,” You blurted. He looked at you with the signature deer in the headlights look. You sighed. “Sorry, baby. I’m pissed off, not upset, and I’m not pissed off with you. I’m pissed off with them.”

Felix looked relieved, nodding and falling down against your chest again. “It’s so not fair, right?! They don't get to decide. We gotta show them, show them you’re exactly the right person.”

“Does it matter what they think, realistically?”

“Um, yes,” Felix scoffed. “Remember that one film we watched where they tried to overthrow the government?”

“Pixie, please tell me you’re not talking about The Hunger Games. This isn’t even a government?”

“I totally am referring to that, yeah! It’s like… you’re Katniss, sugarplum. I’m Peeta, right, except way better looking, no offence to him, and I’m a Prince. Everyone loves me, and you’re Katniss. You’re super cool, and sexy, and smart - but then the public just thinks you're evil. The public is… President Snow! Oh my God, this totally makes sense,” He was out of breath at the end, eyes wide.

You held back a laugh. “This is the strangest metaphor you’ve come up with to date, baby.”

“It makes sense though. Okay, no,” Felix shook his head. “I’m being really dramatic.”

“Well, yeah-“

“Shu’up!” He whined, thrashing around on top of you. “Okay, I know I am being dramatic! But, I just want them to love you. I want them to see what I see, you know? You’re perfect.”

His voice was quiet, heartfelt. You let a small laugh come out then, kissing his head. You had to subdue the tension, make a joke in order to make him relax a little. “I hope the public don’t all wanna fuck me, Lix.”

Felix was immediately upright, reaching down to tickle you punishingly. It was your turn to thrash around, trying to kick him, trying to do anything - you hated when he tickled you, but to be honest, you had been winding him up by trying to lighten the mood. It had been your whole goal, really, and you hadn’t thought of the consequences.

He eventually fell back on the couch, his back up against the armrest opposite the one you’d been leaning on. He threw his legs, still clad in dress trousers, over yours. Felix huffed a deep breath, and you were still panting, letting out random giggles reminiscent of the ones you’d emitted when he was tickling you. “You’re right.”

“Huh?” You heaved a loud, obnoxious breath out, still smiling. “Right about what?”

Felix smiled, that silly smile he does when he’s about to make a stupid statement. “I do wanna fuck you. All the time, actually. You drive me fucking crazy, sugarplum.”

You raised an eyebrow. You were going to wipe that stupid smile off of his face. You’d felt way more confident, comfortable in your own skin since you and Felix had confessed to each other and he’d wholly struggled to keep his hands off of you, even in public. You kicked the blanket off of your legs, exposing the exposed skin, and Felix’s face dropped. He stared at your legs, bare and with soft skin from the lotion you used when you showered, and his eyes widened when you spread your legs. Your core was clad with just a pair of white expensive lace underwear - some way overpriced brand that Chan’s wife had recommended to you - and you could see Felix’s gaze drop to the space between your legs. An immediate blush rose to his cheeks, crimson settling underneath the fawn freckles scattered around olive skin.

“You’ve- I… You’ve just been… like that? This whole- this whole fucking time? Baby, sugarplum, my Queen…” He was immediately moving, face moving to settle between your legs and presumably nose at the soft lace. You gripped his soft hair softly, pulling his head back and making him let out a groan before he could even meet the fabric with his button nose. “B-Baby?”

“What are you doing, Lix? You can’t just accost your wife like that,” You scoffed. His eyes were soft, looking up at you. It was new, you two playing like this - honestly, you’d only just become confident enough to key into some of your more innate desires. You loved the teasing, the push and pull, whether it was you or your Prince on the receiving end.

“Lemme eat you out, yeah? Yeah? Please, sugarplum?” He huffed, his tongue peeking out to lick over his bottom lip. Felix’s eyes were darting around, landing on you, on the fireplace, on your covered pussy. Your folds had already started to slick up with your Prince looking so vulnerable, his dark doe eyes panicked and weak. “I know you like it when I do. You love my lips, I know you do. Let me eat you out, and then I’ll… I’ll…” He was trailing off.

You smiled softly, encouraging him. “And then you’ll what, Pixie?”

Felix let out a deep groan, rasping out straight from his chest, your fingers still tight around the soft strands of sandy hair. His roots had started growing out, chestnut brown hair adding to the mix of blonde shades. You loved his blonde mullet, but a part of you missed Felix with his long, dark hair too. “I’ll fill you up. Make you a mommy, yeah? Everyone will know you’re perfect then, if we make an heir… can I? Can I cream in that sweet pussy after you ride my face, sugarplum? Will you let me?”

Your chest heaved, your breathing coming out in thick pants like a fucking dog. Your pussy felt like it was going to drip all over the couch and leave a stain that would be extremely hard to explain to the maids. You managed to nod, a small, overly timid nod that was completely the opposite of how you’d been speaking and acting. Lithe fingers dropped from the strands of hair, and Felix’s face was immediately between your legs.

“Can’t believe this… this sweet pussy was almost fucking out, this whole time, and I’ve been- fucking going on, I’ve been ranting, and I could’ve been tasting you, oh my God,” Felix whined, deep breaths flooding over your clothed core. You moaned, saccharinely sweet. The feeling of the warm flames from the fireplace had made you feel relaxed and toasty, but now you were warm for a different reason. The arousal was building deep in your tummy as Felix nuzzled his nose against your folds, inhaling deeply at the smell of your pussy. The scent of your wetness flooded his senses. It was primal, desperate, and he was whining again when he licked a wide stripe over the fabric, sodden with your arousal. “Mm, yeah. Nice and sweet for me, sugarplum. Always so nice and sweet for me.”

“Taste it then. Properly, Pixie,” You demanded. Unperturbed, he nodded in agreement, sighing with another deep breath when his fingers hooked into the underwear to pull them down your legs. To be honest, they were a sorry excuse for underwear, barely covering anything. You just liked the way the soft, thin lace felt against your skin, and clearly Felix liked them too. When your pussy was exposed to the warm air, Felix was immediately moaning out loudly, face diving into your folds. He ate you without abandon, shoving his tongue between your folds to lick you up of all of your arousal, nose buried in the softness that met him there. 

Felix pressed open mouth kisses against your clit, swirling his tongue around the small bundle of nerves. You felt his thumb reach up to pull your pussy back, exposing your clit from underneath the hood to the warm air of the room. He was immediately latched onto it, sucking hard, and you whined loudly. Your orgasm was already building steadily, a white hot heat twisting in your gut at the way he was making out with your cunt filthily. He was smearing his spit everywhere, licking it up and making you flood his mouth messily with your juices.

“Oh God, I’m already- fuck- ‘m already getting close, Pixie, Lix, Lix, Felix, please-“ He nodded against your folds, pulling back to spit messily on your clit and smear it around with his fingers. He used two fingers on the same hand to press at your hole, entering you seamlessly and making you thrash around at the feeling of being full. His fingers were short but God did they feel good when he had you like this, spread out, pliant for him with only a few commands to make your Prince please you just right.

You held his head close to you, making him moan at the feeling of being commanded to make you cum. His fingers pistoned steadily in and out, and you hoped vaguely that it was in preparation for his cock to enter you - not that you needed any preparation with the way his lips were sliding around your pussy messily. You found yourself bouncing back onto his fingers, letting out whines and whimpers when he sucked your clit just right.

All of a sudden, like a sudden crescendo, your orgasm hit you. It hit in what felt like a burning, ecstatic full hour in which you thought you may ascend to the high heavens, dripping hole clenching around your Prince’s fingers tightly as you came. Your jaw dropped in a loud moan, one hand pushing Felix’s head further into you - although it was impossible - and the other digging into the armrest behind you in lieu of letting out the passion you felt. You thrashed, whining out as your orgasm went on, and on, until you were left a panting mess on the couch, sweat slicked back sliding around where your shirt had ridden up in your flurry of movement.

Felix pulled away when your hand on his head went slack, licking his lips. Despite his efforts to clean them up, his lips were still covered in a sheen from your juices and looked plush and ruined. His cheeks blushed, forehead just slightly sweaty. With a quick movement, he was kissing you, flicking his tongue against the seam of your mouth so it parts to allow his tongue inside, you letting out a little sigh once your tongues meet. 

He kept kissing you, a filthy exchange of tongues and spit over and over again, building the arousal back up in your gut like the formation of an avalanche. You could taste your orgasm on his lips, making you moan, stifled by his mouth. By the time your lips separate, he’s looking at you expectantly with flushed cheeks and you’re out of breath, staring back at him.

“You gonna pump me full, Lixie?” You whispered, your low tone making him scrunch his eyes shut and nod feverishly. He was unbuttoning his trousers with one hand, pushing them down lithe legs and throwing them on the floor. Just as quick as he’d rid himself of the offending fabrics, he was laying back on the couch in the position he had been prior to eating your pussy, erection straining heavily in his boxers. It looked painfully hard, a small patch of precum staining the black fabric even darker. 

“Ride me. Fuck, please, please, sugarplum. Ride me, please, all yours,” He was babbling, shifting up onto his forearms, and you managed to pull your t-shirt off on the way to straddling him. His hips were slender between the ample flesh of your thighs, and you felt powerful above him as he looked up at you, blonde strands staticy and splayed against the armrest. 

You teasingly ground into his bulge, staring down at him all the while, trying to prevent your eyes from rolling back into your head at the feeling. The fabric of his boxers was the perfect friction against your overstimulated clit, and his hands instantly went into your hips at the movement, gasping out. His hips thrusted up into you and jolted you slightly on his lap. 

“Want it inside, Pixie?” You heaved out a deep breath, making him nod. He’d started to babble again, little incoherent deep sentences. You ignored what he was saying, pulling down his boxers just enough to allow his length to emerge, red and leaking. “Oh, look at that. You look desperate.”

“I- I am,” Felix nodded determinedly. “Need your pussy, my Queen. God, please, just- oh my God-“

He was effectively silenced by you sinking down onto his length, wet hole embracing him in one slick slide. You let out a soft moan, rocking slightly to try and get your hole to accommodate the thickness that had breached you. He looked debauched, lips still wet and hands clutching your hips tightly as he let out deep moans and whimpers. 

You started to bounce once your pussy felt like it was burning with need, letting his thick cock fill you up over and over. The slaps of skin and wetness briefly made you feel embarrassed, but you ignored it, focusing on the blissful expression on Felix’s face.

“That’s-That’s so… so good, shit,” He panted, trying to let you take control and keep his hips still. It was difficult, that much you could see by the jilting of his hips every now and again. You leaned back on your hands, gripping his thighs for purchase as you rolled over his length at a steady pace. His eyes were lit up by the fire, images of flames in the whites of his eyes reflecting the deep need burning inside of him.

You were quickly losing all sense of rationality, hips faltering over him a few times as you struggled to keep your pace. “Feels- so fucking good, Lix, I-I-“ 

Your Prince shifted upright, nose just barely brushing against yours and the angle changing inside of you. Just a little more that way, you thought, and- there, that’s it, shit. You gasped when he brushed your g-spot, bouncing you slowly on his cock to just let his cockhead rest on that spot inside of you. Your eyes fluttered shut, hands moving to grip his shoulders tightly.

“It’s okay, sugarplum, I-I got you. That nice and deep, yeah? Yeah? Am I hitting it?” He mused, and you nodded eagerly, trying not to writhe around on top of him. “Think it’ll take?” You opened your eyes confusedly.

“T-Think what’ll take..?” 

“Me breeding you, sugarplum. Is the cock so good you’ve gone all stupid on me?” You moaned out at his choice of words, statements from your deepest desire making your hole clench nice and tight around him. He simply smiled fondly at you, letting his warm staccato breaths fan over your face. You felt yourself getting wetter as he started to lean back with you in his arms, keeping that same angle with his hips. “C’mere. Lay flat.”

You were confused again, but you trusted him, so you let him hold onto your waist tightly and shift you onto his front. You felt the ridges of his abdominal muscles press against your tummy, making you try to grind your clit up to gain stimulation from them. He simply cooed at you, soothing you with warm circles drawn on the small of your back before he was thrusting up into you frantically.

You were sure you’d screamed. It was so overwhelming like this, so deep, so thick, so full - you were contemplating if you could cum just from his cockhead bullying into your g-spot. It quickly became apparent to you after a few especially punishing thrusts that yes, you could.

Moving to start chasing your orgasm for the second time, you ground down against him, rendering him speechless as he gazed down at you. He still had you pinned to his chest with a firm grip, and with another shift of his hips he was fucking you at a frantic pace, matching the grinding you were giving him.

“Oh, Lix- Lix, I- I think I’ll-“

Felix nodded in the crook of your neck, watching your asscheeks bounce on his thighs as he took you hard, over and over. He was slurring into your skin. “I’m gettin’- getting fucking- so close, so close-“

“Keep- like that, like that, deep, deep! I’ll- oh my God, oh my God, oh my-“

Stars burst behind your eyelids and you screwed them shut tight, body shuddering in his tight hold as you came around his cock. You registered something wetter, a gush of fluids exploding from you in your orgasm, but you just continued to grind against him, clenching tight. 

Felix believed he had died in that moment. “Oh- Oh my God, it’s so wet- so, so, fuck, you squirted, you squirted, I’m-“ Felix was biting his lip hard, almost causing blood to form where his teeth pressed into the thicker section of skin. You kissed his cheek in a daze, eyes half lidded as you let him use your dripping cunt for his pleasure. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna fill you up, yeah, yeah, sugarplum- fucking squirted, so wet, so fuckin’ wet and tight just for me-“

His jaw dropped in a silent moan at the same second his hips halted mid-thrust. You saw his eyes fluttering, rolling back into his head just as he released inside of you with thick, hot spurts. You aided him in that moment, soft grinds to coax out the rest of his cum inside of you. He pinched your hips harshly when he was done, causing you to squeak and stop moving, gazing up at him. You knew you had heart eyes in that moment - he’d made you squirt, for fuck’s sake.

A beat passed, his cock softening inside of you. His eyes were still shut as he tried to catch his breath, hands falling to smooth up and down your thighs. You felt the puddle when you spoke. “I didn’t even know I could do that.”

Felix sighed. “Please do that all the time, sugarplum.”

After getting cleaned up, Felix had put out the fire and taken you to bed where he’d pulled the blanket over you. You felt sated, muscles relaxed as you stretched out your legs on the soft mattress. He sidled in next to you, throwing his arm over your middle and pecking your cheek cutely. 

“I love you, sugarplum. We’ll work on a game plan tomorrow, yeah?”

You hummed, eyes already feeling heavy. “Yeah. Love you too, Pixie.”

You felt content, pulling the blanket up to your chin and fluttering your eyes shut peacefully.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You and Felix had a plan.

It echoed your previous plan, but made a smile come to your face when you realised this was one you had made together. You were going to make up a whole schedule, activities you could do simply such as donating to charity - which you’d already been doing, who has the need for that much money realistically? But this act of good needed to be continued - and the plan that had taken place a few days after you’d created it. 

Chan’s wife’s family was coming to visit. Being royals from a different kingdom, the whole town was celebrating and wanting to show off how amazing the town was to impress the other royal family. After all, they were part of your own royal family now, something that had greatly satisfied the public. Chan’s wife’s younger sister, a five-year-old Princess, was your main focus. Not only did you want to meet her anyway, Chan’s wife had decided it would be a great idea for you to go to the fruit orchard near the palace and pick some fruit together, the three of you.

You’d initially been apprehensive, given that Felix wouldn’t be present and you could be extremely fucking awkward when he wasn’t. But, she’d wanted to help, and she was favoured by the public too. It couldn’t help to have her in your company. That, and she’d become somewhat of a friend to you since the wedding. It felt weird to have real friends that weren’t Felix’s friends. It was something you were learning to embrace, and you tried not to overthink the actions you did after the outings.

You stood outside Chan and his wife’s chambers, next door to yours and Felix’s. It made you briefly recognise that you were very thankful that Felix hadn’t been next door to his mother, given what took place between the two of you on the regular. Chan wasn’t much of a better option though, with his teasing quips and boyish smile. You’d dressed nicely for the day, in a simple mid-length dress that was dark navy and long-sleeved, in case you got fruit juices on it. Felix had tried to jump your bones - for some unknown reason, the dress was probably the most conservative you’d ever worn - before you’d left but you’d managed to push past him with a teasing smile and a promise for ‘later’. 

Chan’s wife bustled out of the room, a small child in her arms who was wiggling around impatiently. The Princess, you assumed, with her chubby cheeks and big round eyes. Her features echoed her elder sister, but in a more youthful, innocent way. She was in a little pink dress, a white cardigan slung over her small shoulders. You grimaced internally at the thought of fruit smearing over the light fabrics.

“Hi! This is my sister, Nari. She’s a little quiet, but-”

“Hello,” The little girl spoke, waving at you with a chubby hand. “We’re getting fruits today.”

You giggled, waving back at the little girl. “Yeah, we’re gonna go get fruit, all of us. Are you excited, Nari?”

Chan’s wife blinked at the younger girl. “Well, she’s normally quiet, but clearly not today.”

You found the little girl trailing next to you on the way to the orchards, her small hand wrapped around yours. She insisted on not being next to her sister, and you honestly felt like the shiny new toy to play with for the child - but you were fine with it. She was really cute, and it made you wish you’d had some siblings of your own growing up. You didn’t even notice the public taking pictures of you on their phones, too engrossed with the little girl telling you about her recent adventure all the way to get here.

“It took two whole sleeps to get here! Did you know that?”

Chan’s wife looked at you, shaking her head fondly at the younger. “It wouldn’t have taken two whole sleeps, sweetie, but our mother said you insisted on napping in the car. Twice,” She turned to you. “It takes a few hours. At most.”

You nodded, trying to hold back a laugh, but the little girl carried on telling her story as if her sister hadn’t corrected her. You eventually arrived at the fruit orchards, somewhere you hadn’t been an awful lot. It was lined with peach trees, given that they were in season, and your mouth watered. You loved peaches. So did Felix, actually, and you made a mental note to grab yourself an overflowing wicker basket of the sweet fruit to share later on. 

Speaking of wicker baskets, your new friend had brought three, holding them in her hands dutifully. You assumed one was for her and Chan, one for you - and Felix, now - and one for Nari. 

Nari was still chirping happily alongside you about some other story, you weren’t sure which. She was definitely still in the hyperactive phase of childhood, bouncing from one story to another and telling you random facts from a completely different one. You found yourself nodding along still, letting out ‘ooh, really?’ at what seemed like the right time. Nari was satisfied, her smile growing wider the more that you contributed to her tall tales. 

Once you actually got set up, baskets in hands, Nari had run off to the other end of the orchard to grab some peaches off of a much lower tree, where she could just about reach on her tip-toes. You smiled, rather fondly. She really was cute. Just the sight of her in her smart little shoes and dress made you wish again that you had a sibling - or even a child of your own. It must be so beautiful to be able to spend time like this with a young mind. 

Chan’s wife shook her head, laughing when you started to make your way down to Nari. “You can leave her there to tire herself out. We can still see her,” She smiled at you. You nodded, still sparing Nari a glance. “I wanted to chat with you, anyway.”

Your chest tightened, mind racing. What could it be? Had she heard something from you and Felix last night?

“Nothing bad, sweetie. Don’t panic,” She admonished, watching your eyes widen. You turned away, starting to pick peaches from the trees and still sparing Nari a glance every now and again to make sure she was okay. She wasn’t more than six feet away from you, really, but you still felt a duty of care over the little girl. “So, I’m sure you’ve been wondering why my family’s visiting.”

You started to fill the basket, humming. She’d followed you, her slender hand, nails perfectly polished appearing in front of you to start grabbing the ripe fruit. “You mean it’s not for our incredibly famous peach orchard?”

She gave you a rewarding laugh. “Unfortunately, no. It’s being announced soon. That Chan’s abdicating,” Your hand halted on one of the round peaches. “I thought you should know, since you’re technically the most important person involved. No one really knows yet, but it’s coming, in a week or so. It means the coronation will also be quite soon.”

You blinked. The most important person involved? She sure thought highly of you. The greenery of the tree leaves had started to look jarring against the light pink of the peaches. “Ah.” You said, rather intelligently.

“Yeah, ah,” She chirped. She’d filled up her basket rather quickly, and had started to continue to fill yours while you just stared at the fruit. You were grateful, but the entire situation had you feeling slightly cornered, as if there were ulterior motives to you meeting. “The abdication will be announced, then the coronation will be announced pretty much a few days after, and then me and Chan will move back to my kingdom. For me to become Queen.”

“Are you nervous?” You blurted.

She let out another comforting laugh, nodding. “I’m really fucking nervous, to be honest. It’s something Chan has always encouraged me to do, though. He seems more than ready to leave Felix in charge of the throne of the kingdom. He thinks it’ll be in capable hands.”

You found yourself agreeing. That wasn’t something you could deny. “Felix loves this kingdom. He loves his people, and they really love him.” You sounded resentful at the end, and your friend picked up on it, elbowing you softly.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up,” She chided you. “People have been taking so many pictures since we got here. They’re going to love you, sweetie. It just takes a bit of warming up. You know, maybe you could get knocked up or something, since it doesn’t sound to me like you’ve been struggling in that department-”

You squeaked, slamming your hand over her mouth in a flurry of movement. Being confident in the bedroom and being able to embrace that elsewhere was a difficult task to complete. Chan’s wife simply chortled behind your palm while your jaw was dropped at her choice of language, so common and straight up crude for a soon-to-be Queen. You couldn’t say much, actually. If anyone heard the language you and their beloved Prince used they’d probably have a heart attack and exile you both. Do people still exile? You realised you had to brush up on your modern royal knowledge, and you also realised you were still holding your hand over the woman’s mouth. Promptly dropping it, you scowled playfully.

“Okay. I guess I kinda had wondered if you’d heard us.”

“Oh, don’t get me started. I always wonder if you hear me and Chan when we-”

“Look, look! I got peaches,” Nari suddenly appeared next to you, barely carrying the basket that was only a quarter full. You almost laughed at the way the little girl had interrupted you, but instead leaned down to ruffle her hair. 

“Awesome, Nari. Shall we head back? We can wash them and then you can eat some, yeah?”

Nari nodded eagerly, eyes wide. Chan’s wife pinched her chubby cheek fondly, and all three of you set off home.

After having a very fun, satisfying day, you hoped the public would see you differently.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Today was the day. It would be announced that Chan was abdicating. You’d helped Felix dye his hair a dark brown the night before, because apparently he needed a brand new hair colour when it’s announced that he’d be the new heir to the throne. 

You stood in the mirror the morning of the announcement, brushing sweaty palms down your loose, pastel blue dress. It was off-shoulder, a mid-length dress with a conservative a-line that you’d paired with some small black kitten heels. To be honest, you kind of thought that you looked as if you were going to an office job, but when Felix had placed his chin on your shoulder he’d insisted you looked ravishing. You thought he had to say that, or you wouldn’t be the one fucking him every night.

You’d arrived hand in hand to the main hall, smiling fakely at the cheers of the nobles and the selective part of the public that had arrived at the announcement. They didn’t even like you, so why the fuck were they cheering? You tried to push that thought to the back of your head, listening to the clicking of your heels as you and Felix both arrived on the stage, taking your seats off to the side. No one knew what this announcement was for, apart from the royal family and their staff. Not that that mattered anyhow - people were already bouncing off of the walls with excitement at Felix’s new hair colour. He’d given an award-winning Prince-like smile as he walked down the hall.

The hall was decorated accordingly, the kingdom’s designated colour splashed everywhere in the form of balloon garlands and ribbons. There were some splashes of violet, the colour of Chan’s wife’s kingdom. It was meant to be a happy announcement, judging by the way it had been promoted and decorated. It probably would be happy, with Felix’s popularity.

Speaking of Felix, his thumb stroked circles onto your hand. He turned to you and mouthed ‘you’ll be okay’, full lips forming over the words subtly. You believed him, because you believed everything your Prince said.

Chan took to the stand, a podium standing solely in the middle with a mic for him to speak into. Felix and Chan’s mother stood aside of him, crown structured on her head perfectly. Chan’s wife stood on the other side, giving the crowd an effortless, perfect wave. You wished you could be like her.

“Hello, everyone,” Chan spoke into the mic, giving a pearly white smile. “I’ve decided to be the one to give the announcement today. I hope that’s alright with you all?”

The crowd applauded, because of course they did. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, and instead gave a small clap yourself. Felix looked proud of you.

“I’m going to get to the point rather quickly, so that we can get to the festivities even quicker,” Chan giggled. A few murmurs and laughs were heard from the crowd in lieu of a response. “I’m sure it is common knowledge by now that my mother, your Queen, intends to abdicate in order to give me the title of King, before she gets older. I want to thank you all for the warm welcome you’ve given me in regards to this.”

Chan’s wife was rubbing soothing circles at the small of Chan’s back, over the intricately designed suit he was wearing. He was still giving his best smile, mouth formed as if it was the only thing he ever did - grin boyishly.

“I want to announce though, that I intend to also abdicate, too,” He spoke, and the crowd went quiet. “My wife belongs to her kingdom, and I’m nothing but a feminist. I want the best for my love, and as such, I wish for her to be the Queen of her own kingdom, rather than my Queen Consort. I hope you can understand and respect my decision.”

Another few murmurs were heard, a few people nodding solemnly. Felix got up right on cue, going to replace the Queen’s position on Chan’s side. It was time. You stayed in your seat. You thought you could remember that this is where you were meant to stay, until it was time to promote and smile in the festivities afterwards.

“Therefore, I wish to announce that my younger brother, Prince Felix, will be the heir to the throne. His coronation will take place in a few days. I understand this is fast for you all, but I hope you can accept the change with open arms. Thank you for everything you have done for me and my family.” His speech ended with a nod, and there was silence over the whole hall. You waited anxiously with bated breath.

Then, the whole crowd stood up to clap. You cringed slightly at the corniness of it all, but a royal family always had people feeling as though they were in a film. Everyone was cheering, applauding and laughing, happy that the young Prince who had done so much for them would be taking to the throne. Felix simply smiled, nodding and saying little ‘thank you’s in different directions to the crowd. He clapped his hands together triumphantly when Chan moved away, letting Felix take to the mic.

The crowd immediately went quiet, watching him expectantly. They still stood however, dressed in all their finery and looking a damn sight more comfortable in it than you thought you did. “Wow, thank you all for the praise,” He spoke, deep voice rasping over the speakers. You tried to ignore the way your stomach twisted at his deep tone. Now was not the time. “I want to thank you also for the support you’ve given towards my wife, soon to be the Queen Consort.” He motioned to you.

Oh, no. He was lying to their faces and there’s no chance in Hell they would deny it, is there? He was basically forcing their approval, forcing them to admit they liked you, all because you’d shown slight sadness at finding out they didn’t think you were worthy. He was doing it to make them praise you, make them appreciate you. It was kind of…

No, okay, it was really fucking sexy. Seriously, you groaned internally, do you ever stop thinking about sex?

“I appreciate it may have been difficult to understand when we got married. She’s not from a royal background like me, but she is of great poise and elegance. I personally can’t think of anyone better for my Queen Consort, and I’m sure you all agree,” You looked out at the crowd at his words, giving a soft wave. Surprisingly, you saw people start to nod and smile at you. Did your outing the other day work? Or did Felix’s speech just demand respect for you? Either way, you were pleased. 

You planned to show Felix just how pleased you were.

Later on, in the festivities, you even found the same noble from the night of your engagement party coming over to speak to you. He stood in front of you again, salt and pepper beard trimmed neatly. You blanched. He’d cornered you last time and you’d panicked. You’d have to do better this time. You stood with a plate of cheeses and fruit in your hand, having been picking at the selection since Felix abandoned you to go and speak to someone regarding his plans for foreign alliances.

“Oh, hello,” You bowed, rather gracefully if you did say so yourself. He bowed in return, smiling brightly. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Indeed, I am,” He responded. You looked out to the crowd of people eating and drinking wine. Where the fuck was Felix when you needed him, for Christ’s sake? “I do hope to apologise to you, however. I admit we all had our hesitations about you becoming Queen Consort, if the rumours of Chris’ abdication were to be true.”

“Oh. Wow. Yes, I understand.” You were feeling timid, cheeks blushing in embarrassment. You bit on a small block of cheese just to have something to do while he stared you down.

“I wish to apologise for that, Princess. We were very quick to judge. You’ve since shown such elegance, on the outing with the two foreign Princesses. It was lovely to see you enjoying it in such a sophisticated manner,” He praised you. You blushed even harder, grabbing another tiny piece of cheese from the plate held in your hand to chew on. You were going to stink of cheese if you didn’t stop eating out of awkwardness, you thought. “That, and it’s very impressive that you continue to be by the Prince’s side.”

Wow. This guy was actually being so nice. He hadn’t even dropped any bomb questions on you like before, maybe-

“Any plans for heirs soon, may I ask?” There it was. You choked on your piece of cheese, covering your mouth and trying to cough it down. God, please go down, you thought, you can’t fucking risk spitting cheese out on this guy. Weirdly, the guy simply laughed, a bellowing laugh that echoed around the hall but didn’t cause anyone to jolt in surprise. “I do love asking questions like that, I am sorry. I’ll leave you to continue with your night.”

You managed to swallow the piece of cheese. You waved at him a bit too late, as he’d already started to walk away laughing, but you still shouted out after him. “Lovely to speak to you!” Oh, God. Could you get any more fucking awkward?

You both arrived back to your room late, the sun already down and the moonlight glowing through the curtains. Felix immediately stripped off to his boxers, grumbling about the suit being tight and too ‘constrictive’. You giggled, kicking your heels off and joining him on the bed when he sprawled out on it, arms splayed wide.

You laid your head on his chest, still in your dress that you’d shucked up to your hips with your movement onto the comfortable bed. You just couldn’t be bothered to get changed yet, worn out from the big day. He’d pulled the canopy down on the four posters around the bed before you’d left, and the sheer fabric obscured you slightly from the rest of the room. “Did so well today, Pixie.”

“Mm, yeah?” His chest vibrated with the deep timbre of his voice, his arm curling around you to hold you tighter. “I’m glad. I really tried to do well, sugarplum. They like you now.”

You scoffed out a laugh. “Only because you told them to, baby.”

“Hey, absolutely not. Peachgate worked a charm,” Felix mused. You’d had so much fun devouring all of the peaches afterwards, and your kisses had tasted of the sweet juice for hours later. 

You blushed at the thought of your kisses with each other, normally wet and filthy. Oh, yeah. You almost forgot you’d been planning on showing him just how well he’d done.

“Lixie?”

“Yeah, sugarplum?”

“You really did so well today,” You shifted, still laying on your side but starting to kiss his neck. His head rolled to the side to give you better access, him immediately understanding what you intended to do. “Wanna show you, yeah? I wanna show you how good you are, Pixie.”

Felix groaned when you bit slightly into his collarbone, fingers winding to push your hair out of your face so he could see you. “You gonna let me have that sweet pussy?”

“Hmm, maybe later,” You mused, fingers moving to brush against the waistband of his underwear. His jaw went slack instantly at the contact. “Gonna suck this cock first. Want to worship you, is that okay?”

Felix nodded, his breath coming out heavy now. “Of course, sugarplum. You’re gonna let me cream that pretty mouth, yeah?”

Oh. You stifled a moan, nodding frantically in response. Then, you said something that would mortify you in any other situation, but you had a feeling it would break Felix’s brain. “Absolutely, my King.”

Felix’s eyes widened. With a swift movement, he was grabbing your waist, kissing you chastely as if he was apologising for what he was about to do. He pushed you down between his legs by his shoulder, your face positioned just slightly above his boxers. His cock was already starting to fatten with arousal, thickness pressing against the fabric and rendering it sheer like the canopy surrounding you. 

“You better get my cock in that mouth now or so help me God.”

You blinked up at him in surprise. It took a moment before you realised what you had intended to do, and your fingers were dragging down his boxers, revealing the cock you were so well-acquainted with. This time, your eyes focused on the full, heavy balls underneath his shaft too. You wanted them in your mouth.

Leaning forward, you ran your tongue over his leaking cockhead before curling your fingers around the base of his length. Felix let out a shuddering breath, encouraging you to continue. With a swift movement, you sunk your head down to engulf the amount of his length that you could manage without choking, using your hand to pump the rest.

“O-Oh, yeah. That’s good,” Felix hummed, spreading his legs wider for you to have greater access to him. You continued to bob your head, tongue swirling around the underside of his shaft up to his cockhead. You swallowed down any precum that accumulated in the slit. Ensuring the blowjob got wet and messy with spit, you pulled off to pump his shaft, slick with the remnants of your mouth. In a brief moment of confidence, you lowered your head and then you were sucking his balls into your mouth.

He jolted sharply, almost kicking you. He let out a high, broken moan, letting you swirl your tongue around his balls and suck sharply. “Ah- ah, that’s filthy, fuck- yeah, yeah, sugarplum, shit, that’s it. Dirty girl.”

You moaned against his skin, letting his balls slide out of your mouth with a pop and returning to suckle on his cockhead. He let one hand go down to your head, pushing your hair back off of your face so he could see you, and you gazed up at him with wide eyes. 

“D-Don’t stop looking at me like that, sugarplum,” Felix slurred out, grabbing you softly by the hair to pull you off of his cock. “Fuck, can I…? Hhnnng- can you- can you open your mouth, stick your tongue out, please? Fuck, always thought about this, shit.”

You felt yourself burst with happiness at those words - that he’d always imagined this, before you followed his instructions. You opened your mouth and let your tongue loll out obediently. Before you could process why he’d asked you to do this for him, he was gripping his length and slapping the cockhead against your tongue. You could feel humiliation pooling inside of you, but it was overwhelmed by intense arousal.

Felix started to jerk his cock in front of your face, his small hand making it look so thick. He was frantic, jerking at his shaft intensely while he looked at you, grunting every so often when his cockhead managed to hit your tongue again. It was so filthy.

“That- oh, oh, yeah, that’s it- fuck- gonna, gonna-“ He let out another high, broken sound as ropes of white cum started to cover your tongue. You were quick to wrap your lips back around his tip, suckling and milking his balls of the rest of the cum he had to give you. Eventually, he fell back boneless, his eyes hazy. “Oh my God.”

You giggled, licking your lips clean. Weirdly enough, you felt so content that you’d worshipped his cock so well that you didn’t feel the need for your own orgasm, sidling up to him in bed. “Good?”

“Good?” Felix scoffed, turning to look at you. Once he looked at you he giggled cutely, leaning to nuzzle his nose against yours. He pulled you in closer before he spoke. “Fucking amazing, sugarplum. You blew my fucking mind.”

“You blow mine everyday, Pixie.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You were a Queen Consort. Officially, in full blown fucking writing. Black and white. Plain as day, your name, followed by the title of Queen Consort in swirly, intricate writing. Shit was getting serious. You were the Queen Consort, and the love of your life was the King.

The coronation had gone well. It was a process you’d honestly zoned out a little for, beneath all of the finery and decorations draped around the palace. There’d been a horse and carriage, or something. You weren’t sure. You honestly weren’t as involved as you’d presumed. 

You had stood in front of the kingdom, however - it was being broadcasted on TV also for the people who couldn’t attend - when they’d announced your brand new title. Your mother had bawled. The Queen herself had actually also sobbed. Everyone in the crowd had even cheered, so they really did like you now.

You thought of your journey, from a scarred-knees type of kid in your long white socks who followed Felix around intently to where you were now. Some days, you still felt like a fraud - this had all happened in a few months. You’d gone from believing your love was unrequited, never to be returned to being married to the only man you’d ever love. You even got to fuck him every night, so that was a bonus.

You’d held a bouquet of baby’s breath at the coronation on Felix’s request. Blinking down at it while people cheered, you felt weirdly content. You’d do your best to serve the country, even if you still felt like the same young girl with an unrequited love for her best friend. 

When his dainty hand was placed upon the small of your back and a small kiss was pressed to your forehead, wholly real and unfalse despite the fact that you were in front of so many people, you shook that thought out of your head. You were there, present and a different person to what you’d previously been.

It had taken a while to get here, but one thing you were absolutely sure of: you’d been in love with Lee Felix for as long as you could remember, and he loved you back unconditionally.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Epilogue

You stared at the offending object in front of you. Was it offending, really? Hadn’t you both wanted this, even beneath the whole dirty talk facade of it all?

The pregnancy test felt like it was taunting you, two blue lines clear as day. What the actual fuck? It made sense, really, you mused, finger tapping your chin comically as you thought. You’d been feeling nauseous, yeah. You’d missed your period, and maybe your tummy was feeling a little bloated and swollen. All the signs of a baby, really. 

Okay, yeah. It made perfect sense. You were fucking pregnant. 

When the door to your room shut, you panicked. You’d been in the ensuite staring at the test for so long that you’d completely forgotten that Felix was due home at any point now. You didn’t know what the fuck to do, and in your brief panic, you wrapped the pregnancy test up in toilet roll and attempted to flush the test down the toilet. Not your brightest moment, you’ll admit.

Especially when the toilet water started rising, and your heart started beating extremely quickly.

A knock on the door made you exclaim in surprise, pressing your back against the bathroom door as if the lock wouldn’t stop him from coming in. You had to have that extra barricade. You looked down at your tummy, hand smoothing over your skin. There was a whole fucking baby in there. Okay, no, it probably wasn’t a baby yet. It was just a bunch of cells chilling in your womb with no care in the world, if a bunch of cells could even think and contemplate life. 

“Sugarplum? Are you in there?” 

Your eyes widened. Oh, no. “U-Um, yeah. Welcome back Lixie. You can’t come in.” 

You heard a giggle from the other side of the door. “Why not? I’ve seen you pee before-“

You blushed, still staring at the toilet. The test floated in the water menacingly. You wanted to punch it, and then yourself. “Um. I’m not peeing, I’m in the shower.”

“Oh. Okay, I can’t hear it, but I’ll just… I’ll go then. See you when you’re done, sugarplum,” Felix was still chirping happily. You grimaced. He needed to know. 

“Wait.” You turned around, taking a deep breath. You could practically feel his presence on the other side of the door, as if you were psychic. He was waiting patiently. You reached up, sliding the lock open and opening the door just a crack. He stared at you, eyes wide and gazing at your appearance. You most definitely weren’t in the shower, and were standing there awkwardly, fully clothed and cheeks red. He thought you looked absolutely radiant. 

You thought he did, too. He’d been horseback riding by the looks of it, probably with Chan as he was visiting. He was still clad in tight trousers, boots taken off but a tight suit jacket still zipped up around his lithe frame. 

“I got somethin’ to show you, so. Come in.”

Felix looked confused. You didn’t blame him. You opened the door wider and yanked him into the lavish ensuite. He stood there with his eyes closed and lips pursed, trembling as if he was very close to laughing at your expense. You pointed at the toilet, trying hard not to be bothered at his amusement.

“Look.”

You knew this would appear insane to anyone else, but Felix’s eyes opened anyway, staring at the toilet. The pregnancy test still floated there, bobbing like an apple in a tub of water on Halloween. 

“I tried to flush it. I dunno why. Panicked.”

“Is that-? Sugarplum…?” He was speechless. Oh God. You nodded anyway, clutching onto his arm as if you were scared he’d run. “That’s a pregnancy test?”

You nodded again. 

He took a deep breath. “And it’s…? It’s in the toilet. Why is it in the toilet, sugarplum?”

“Um. I flushed it, because it’s positive, and I panicked when you got back,” You blushed. You were so fucking stupid sometimes. “I’m pregnant. Didn’t know how to tell you, so… I’m just telling you.”

Felix blinked. “Isn’t it kinda menacing right now? It’s just staring at us.”

You gasped. “That is exactly what I thought, isn’t it so fucking creepy? It’s like a knife or something. Sinister.”

It seemed that in that moment, the reality of the situation hit Felix, and he turned to you, looking at your belly with wide eyes. He looked up at you. Then yet again, he looked at your belly. 

Then, he let out a blood-curdling yell, picking you up and swinging you around the room. You screamed in surprise, clenching onto his shoulders.

“You’re pregnant! Shit! You’re pregnant, oh my God! We’re gonna have a little mini me running around,” Felix was still yelling as he ran with you in his arms back to the room. He looked as if he was going to throw you onto the bed for a cuddle, but instead, he chose to place you down delicately after having a moment to think. He was smiling from ear to ear, moving to his knees to deliver a sweet peck to your tummy. “Little baby in there. Mini me. Or mini you. Little fucking bean.”

“It’s just a bunch of cells right now, Lix,” You giggled when he kept kissing your belly. “It’s not a living thing.”

“No, but it will be my baby. I’m gonna wait on you hand and foot, not gonna be allowed to do anything for nine months. Y’hear me, sugarplum?” You nodded in response. He started muttering in disbelief. “Fuckin’ pregnant. No wonder you’ve been looking so radiant, sugarplum. I’ve been wanting to fuck you senseless every day!” 

You gasped at his words, and again when he was quickly looming over you to give you your own kisses. 

You moaned when he started kissing your neck. “‘M gonna fuck you senseless, sugarplum. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you more, Pixie, my King.”

END.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

taglist: @moasworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @queenofthegardengnomes @boomfrogg @hoeinthehouse @msaddictions @sunnyhonie @hizliyuruyen @jyu037 @jouoy @drhsthl @seungincore @jellylver @veedoesntknaur @meloncremesoda @k-poplv @livieloo914 @fekixfmp @fawnpeaks @minnielvr @imastraykidsfan @hanjisung2023 @hoelynecujoh @kyrviu @sxgeofprohets @everydreams-penumbra @chaneomma @kkissreol @phtogravi @secretjj @princelingperfect @personawthai @dirah-h @straykids5star @luvhyux @chuuswifereal @stg110 @cookiesandmilfx @number1seungminstan @skzswife @starsandrqindrops @poody1608 @cutiespaghetti @hwa-0403 @i8rsie @kpopsstuffs @everyonehatesshani @han8ul @velentine143 @vixensss @cuddlehye @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @angeldhd @comicnerd557 @leeknowfz @imwithurmother @hrtsformin @maknae00 @teaholic @ficrecnctskz @tasteskz-sworld @ilychee08 @thehomotron8000 @romynochill

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 7

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: depictions of killing/death, a blood oath, oral sex f receiving, fingering, edging, dirty talk, p in v, no protection, breeding/pregnancy kink, creampie kind of

A/N: I hear wedding bells🎉 This took me a hot second to write up and edit, but it's also a little bit longer than I usually post. I hope you enjoy💕

Sleep evades you. The day of your wedding slips in uninvited, a wash of sunlight to chase away the shadows from your room. The bed is empty. Feyd-Rautha hasn’t returned or, at least, hasn’t visited you since.

You convince yourself that you don’t care.

But still your thoughts stray traitorously to him — where he is, what he’s doing, what he’s thinking and if it’s of you.

You stare out at the Grand Arena. It’s more or less attached to the Harkonnen fortress and, to your understanding, typically reserved for political rallies. It’s the only place large enough to host a wedding where the entire planet is invited, though, plus the added benefits of its close proximity.

A platform has been erected and already citizens are filing into their stadium-style seats despite the early hour. They will wait all day to sit front row at the marriage between House Atreides and House Harkonnen. A historic event, you realize with detached clarity. To be remembered for generations to come.

This does nothing to quell your roiling stomach.

You turn at the sound of your bedroom doors opening, hope lifting stupidly in your chest. Because it is not Feyd-Rautha who enters, but Lady Jessica.

She looks more radiant than ever, though you suspect this partially has to do with the time apart that you’ve spent.

“Mother?”

Perhaps your lack of rest has warped your vision.

Jessica smiles softly, confirming both your deepest fear and most shameful want. “Daughter.”

For the first time in your life, you run to her. She embraces you, cradling your face into her neck. She smells like home and the memory of Caladan has you blinking back tears. “Why are you here?”

“Did you really think we would miss your wedding?” Jessica brushes your hair back. “They are treating you well? You haven’t responded to any of our correspondences.”

“They are treating me well,” you tell her. You can’t help but think of Feyd-Rautha’s lips on your skin, between your legs, but quickly dismiss it. “And I haven’t received any correspondences.”

“Mm, as I suspected. Your father thought that you might be too busy to write but I knew better.”

“He’s here, too?”

“Of course.” Your mother presses something cold and metallic into your palm, curls your fingers around it. “I wanted to give you this.”

You frown. After closer inspection, you realize that it’s a necklace. Simple, elegant, with a thin silver chain and delicate pendant. “What is this?”

“I wore it when I first met your father. Although we are not married, our relationship has obviously grown past that of an arranged partnership. I can only hope you find similar happiness.” She pauses then, examining you. “I know you are aware that your birth was…orchestrated. But that does not change our love for you. You are our greatest treasure, Y/N.”

Your mood falters, slipping from between your fingers and shattering on the ground like glass. “This is a fertility necklace.”

“Yes,” Jessica says, dipping her chin.

You have the overwhelming sense to grind the necklace under your heel. The tears in your eyes now belong there for an entirely different reason.

“I thought you came here today to support me but instead you’re just carrying out your Bene Gesserit schemes,” you hiss. A dry laugh rattles in your throat. “I’m such a fool! You don’t care for me. You only care about what I can provide. My whole life, everything has been for them. Everything.”

Jessica’s jaw clenches. “That’s not true.”

Aggravated, you spin on her, teeth bared. “Then tell me you came here today of your volition.”

Jessica holds your gaze but does not reply.

“I knew it,” you all but snarl at her.

“I thought these past few months would’ve opened your eyes to your potential, the importance of your duty,” Jessica snarls back, matching your viciousness. “But still you are blind to the truth. You blatantly refuse to accept a plan that has been in effect for centuries. Ten thousand years of deliberate planning and you act as if you are here as punishment. You are living proof of the Bene Gesserit’s power, Y/N.”

Chest heaving, you shutter your raging emotions. “Leave me.”

“That’s no way to speak to your mother.”

“I speak to you not as a daughter,” you retort, “but as the na-Baroness of House Harkonnen. And seeing that you are nothing but a concubine to the Duke, I demand that you leave.”

You know that with The Voice, Jessica could force you to bend to her will, to do any inexplicable amount of things. But she does not. She stands there, wavering, before striding back from which she came from without another word.

You hide the fertility necklace in the pot of a synthetic plant, and no one is the wiser when they come to prepare you. For the servants this is a joyous occasion and you do not want to dampen their enthusiasm. You mask your growing unease, laughing and joking with the girls as they recreate you into the image of na-Baroness.

“You look stunning,” Asha tells you privately. There’s quite some time before the ceremony starts, and she’s pulled you into a quiet corner of the room. “The na-Baron isn’t going to know what to do with himself.”

Oh, you very much doubt that. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Your wedding dress is a subtle combination of both Atreides and Harkonnen culture, a blend of elegance and functionality.

The dress itself is made from a lightweight, flexible material that mimics the look of metallic plates. Featuring overlapping panels that creates a segmented, scale-like effect, the bodice gives the illusion of Harkonnen armor. But the skirt, full and flowing, is entirely Atreides — layers of fabric cascading to the floor. Small, metallic accents line the hem that shimmer with your every step.

And, completing the look, a headpiece that forms a sort of M over your forehead and down your cheeks, adorn with jewels.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. “Have you seen him today? The na-Baron.”

“No, I haven’t. Why?”

“No reason.”

Asha’s mouth quirks teasingly. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” you say, too quickly, “well, yes. But not because of him, because of the ceremony. This will be my first time in front of Giedi Prime.”

“They will adore you,” Asha says. She waves a hand flippantly. “And if not, then your husband will have their heads.”

You grin. “I suppose that’s comforting.”

“Of course it is.” She squeezes your hand.

Your moment with Asha passes as you’re both pulled back into the revelries — spice-laden champagne, food that looks suspiciously like harvested organs, and the pounding, ear-splitting music that’s popular among the Harkonnens. By the time you’re called for the ceremony, your mood has lifted significantly, almost enough to make you forget that you’re the reason for celebration. It’s a sobering reminder.

Your heart threatens to burst from your chest. From inside the walls of the fortress, the roar of the crowd crests and falls like a tidal wave sent to sweep you away. The corridor is alive with mumbled conversation. A procession will precede you to the altar — noblemen and the likes, your parents, who you avoid — along with your betrothed, who is nowhere in sight. The gathered members of your bridal party shift and part, panic seizing you with white-knuckled fingers as the Baron maneuvers toward you.

He greets you with a saying repeated to you many times that day, one that after several iterations you’ve come to understand means, “May your death be swift in battle”.

How it relates to marriage, you are too nervous to inquire about.

“What a wonderful day,” he muses in a rasping lilt. “It would be a pity for someone to ruin it.”

“Indeed,” you reply, eyes narrowing.

“You understand the importance of the ceremony, don’t you?” You don’t respond, sensing that he will tell you nevertheless. “This is just one more step for Feyd-Rautha toward taking my place as Baron. How the ceremony goes will influence his standing with his people.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Of course this was just another political move. What did he think you would do, riot in the middle of the ceremony? You retort, “I understand.”

“Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

The chill that brushes down your spine, seeping into your bones, is deterred by the sudden clash of a gong. War drums erupt in tumultuous exalt. The very sound of them resonates deep within you, invoking a primal response of adrenaline, as if your body is preparing you for battle.

Which, you suppose is fitting.

And who else to be summoned by the promise of war then Feyd-Rautha.

He enters the room as he always does, commanding the attention of everyone in it. The effect is only amplified today, though, in his polished ceremonial armor and resolute intensity, a heady combination of brutality and valiancy.

Gazing at him us purifying fire, searing you from the inside out, and you take your time charting the unholy beauty of his face, gazing back at you with terrifying reverence.

In that moment, you possess no past or future — there is only him. An eternal now.

And then he steps past you and into the black sun, exultant, thrusting the knife above his head.

A championing cheer follows, impossibly louder than the thunder of the drums. Feyd-Rautha lingers and something in your chest expands at the sight of him dwelling in their approval, their admiration, somehow transcendent of any humanity he manages to have.

He truly is a god.

From your secretive position, you peer at him as he strides down the aisle to the platform where the officiant is waiting for him. At the top of the stairs, he turns and faces his people. In an act that surprises you, everyone who isn’t already on their feet rises, and in sync pound their fists to their chests. One two three.

Their utter devotion to him is staggering.

Feyd-Rautha raises his chin, simultaneously moved and expectant of this. He then takes his place at the altar.

Which means it’s your turn.

You loathe having to follow such a devastating display of power and love. There’s no telling how Giedi Prime will react to you, after all, considering that you are technically the enemy. Asha’s words come to you, emboldening you, and you lift your gaze. You will not falter.

A shushed quiet falls over the arena as you stride out, then enormous applause. You can only imagine what you look like to them, your people, but the only one who matters looks upon you with such unwavering devoutness that it nearly brings you to your knees. As you climb the steps to the altar, Feyd-Rautha’s hands clench into fists, a gesture you interpret as a sign of restraint.

Oh, if only he could touch you with those hands.

The officiant, a representative of the Imperium, begins to recite the traditional Harkonnen wedding script. A translator repeats the words to you, but you let the harsh language wash over you as you focus instead on the row of guests at the base of the altar. Your parents — looking fiercely protective, Leto smiling somewhat reluctantly; Jessica maintaining her cool demeanor — the Baron, emotionless, and beside him Rabban.

Did he wish it was him on the stage?

He catches you staring and flashes you a sickening smile. You look pointedly away, a fist forming in your stomach.

The beginning of the ceremony is tediously long and drenched in tradition, most of which you don’t understand even with the translator’s help. Marriage is not generally a romantic affair for Harkonnens, and the proof can be found in their strangely clinical rites. Again it’s impressed upon you that you are preparing for battle, one in which you would reside besides the most fearsome of its participants.

A pause on the officiant’s part draws you back to the present. You know what comes next, and the thought repulses you — Harkonnens of the Imperial House do not get married with the weight of enemies on their shoulders, pursuing a clean slate of sorts. You watch as a row of prisoners are led before the altar, hooded and bound and forced to their knees by a Harkonnen guard. You shiver despite the insurmountable heat.

You are familiar with war, with combat, the knife-thin edge upon which each fight balances. Life or death. But you can hardly stomach the idea of executing a helpless opponent, even if they are an enemy of your House.

Your throat thickens as Feyd-Rautha is bestowed a ceremonial blade.

Each hood of the prisoner is removed except for one, a man at the end who wavers to stay upright. Feyd-Rautha ignores this man, starting at the opposite end. His grin is apparent as he slashes through the throats of the prisoners, the blade his brush and the bodies his canvas, painting them both with ink-colored blood.

When Feyd-Rautha makes it to the still-hooded man, he pauses, shoulders heaving with the exertion of his wicked precision. Rivulets of blood stream down his armor. He says something unintelligible to the man, then removes his hood.

Your blood runs cold as you recognize him.

Ze’ev.

Now that you know who it is, you inspect him closer. There’s hardly any traces of the man you briefly knew. He is emaciated, bones lining his scarred flesh, clearly beaten within an inch of his life. After your encounter with Feyd-Rautha, you know that Harkonnens heal quickly, and the scars on his body indicate to you that he had been torn open again and again.

Feyd-Rautha turns. When he approaches you, his face is full of such naked adoration that it causes you to take a step back. He offers you the bloodied blade.

“For you,” he rasps.

You whisper fiercely, “What are you doing?”

“He is a gift, for you. On the day of our wedding.”

Every fiber of your being is screaming at you to refuse him. But to do so would be to decline your husband, shame him in front of his people — bile rises in your throat as you accept the blade, your fingers wrapping around the handle.

You breeze past him, refusing to meet his eye.

Ze’ev trembles as you advance on him. Though from his delicate condition or fear, you can’t be sure. His lips form a sneer. “You won’t do it.”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” you say dryly. “I thought you were dead.”

“I should be. Your husband certainly brought me to the brink of it and back, telling me that he was saving me. For you.” Ze’ev spits at your feet then, a dark and bloody glob.

On Arrakis, this would’ve been a sign of respect.

But this wasn’t Arrakis.

You raise your arm in an upward swing, then across your body with exuberance, his blood hissing as it splatters the ground. Splatters you.

The crowd applauds your demonstration, and the sound of their approval echoes in your ears as you take the stage once more, the prisoners’ bodies carted away quickly. You feel numb. Bewildered.

But also deliciously righteous.

You face the man who put you in this position, who put the blade in your hand as a gift without considering the consequences. And he smiles because he knows — he knows that you are delighted, that the freckles of drying blood elicit an indisputable, terrifying delirium in you.

He coaxed this from you, what was better left in the dark.

And you don’t know if you should thank him.

The officiant switches to the common tongue. “The time has come to bind these lives together in the sight of their people. As na-Baron and na-Baroness, they pledge their loyalty and protection to one another, their flesh and blood now shared in duty and alliance.”

A second blade is brought out on a satin cushion.

“na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, do you swear to protect and defend na-Baroness Y/N, to uphold her honor and safeguard her well-being, as your duty demands?”

“I swear.”

“na-Baroness Y/N, do you swear to protect and defend na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, to uphold his honor and safeguard his well-being, as your duty demands?”

You dip your chin. “I swear.”

“Then, as symbol of your shared duty and alliance, I ask you to exchange your blood.”

Feyd-Rautha takes the blade and, with surprising gentleness, turns your palm over and kisses it before gliding the tip of the blade over it. Your blood wells, bright red.

You take his own hand — large, scarred and calloused — and repeat the action.

Before he can heal, the officiant wraps a white cloth around your now joined hands, red blood mingling with black.

“You are my body, an extension of myself,” Feyd-Rautha rasps.

You tense. This isn’t part of the ceremony.

Feyd-Rautha, one hand still clasped in yours, uses the other to beat his chest. One two three. You watch as the crowd responds in kind: the same gesture, reverberating throughout Giedi Prime.

It’s incredibly intoxicating, to be the focus of such a powerful gesture. You let it wash over your skin and infiltrate your bloodstream, alter something inside you, rearranging your very cells into what it takes to be a fearless ruler. You would do anything to garner such a response again.

The officiant waits until the last thump can be heard before he declares, “May your bond be as unbreakable as the strongest fortress. United by duty and alliance, I present to you — the na-Baron and na-Baroness!”

Having spent so much time dreading the ceremony, you never stopped to think about what would happen after it. Currently you sit atop the dais in the throne room, accepting an endless line of Harkonnens who want to congratulate you on your feat of an arranged marriage. Your palm that the blade cut stings with every hand you shake.

After what seems like a small eternity, it’s time for you to join the nobles at the reception. Memories of the last time you sat at the table trickle in through your exhaustion — which you promptly shove away.

The feast passes in a blur. You don’t have the appetite for any of it, but hopefully do a convincing job of moving your food around on your plate.

And then: it’s time for your first dance.

Reluctantly you let Feyd-Rautha sweep you into the center of the room, the usual security you feel in his presence succumbing to your own fears. He holds you tight against him. His tone is clipped, political, plush lips on the shell of your ear, “You had never killed before.”

Ah, your first words as husband and wife.

“No I had never killed before,” you snap at him. “Not everyone goes around just slaughtering whoever they feel like.”

Feyd-Rautha is a surprisingly agile dancer, though you figure that it isn’t all that removed from fighting. “I didn’t intend to upset you.”

“Perhaps, but you did.” Your throat thickens. “What I did is irreversible.”

“You told me you wanted him to pay for what he did.”

“I-I did. I just didn’t think —”

“If you let someone who crosses you live, then others will try,” Feyd-Rautha says, incensed. “You must strangle the serpent while it’s a hatchling, for once it grows, it will seek you out while you lay in your bed and slip around your neck.”

You can’t suppress your shudder. What a lovely metaphor. Apparently Giedi Prime has loads of fun phrases alluding to death.

“You could’ve told me,” you mutter in lieu of a response.

“It was a gift.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. Was that all it was? Another part of your game?

“Most people give jewelry as gifts,” you retort.

Feyd-Rautha’s lips twitch. “I am not most people.”

“I know.” To prove your point, you coast your fingers over his side where the dagger went in.

He pulls you tighter against him. “I would have you right here in front of everyone if you’d let me.”

You can’t help but smirk. “I know.”

He opens his mouth to continue but he’s interrupted — by Rabban, nonetheless. “na-Baron, I request a dance with my sister in-law.”

Feyd-Rautha’s grip on you tightens. “No.”

“Yes,” you say, loosening his fingers from around your waist. “It won’t be long.”

Feyd-Rautha stares after you unhappily as his brother leads you away. Other couples have now taken to the floor in an elaborate dance that you don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway, seeing that Rabban just drags you after him for each step.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he says finally.

“You suppose?”

“If it was up to me, Feyd-Rautha would be the one extending his congratulations.” Rabban’s small, dark eyes examine you. “Though the Bene Gesserits have chosen well for a Harkonnen bride. You are a formidable force.”

“Thank you,” you reply, sensing more.

“There are…things…in order that will happen because you will not submit to me,” Rabban says.

Your jaw sets. “Like what?”

“You’ve made your choice.” There’s a twinge of pity in his voice. Not for him. For you? “I thought I should forewarn you.”

“Rabban, what are you talking about? You never said anything about —”

“The day of the Crucible. I told you my wishes and you denied me them.”

“You said nothing that would warrant a warning. I thought you just envious of your brother for obtaining something else that you can’t have.”

“Envious? No. More deserving? Perhaps.”

Behind Rabban, a soldier materializes from the crowd. Sardaukar. You stiffen — it hadn’t come to your attention that anyone from the Imperium had attended your wedding.

“Excuse my interruption,” the soldier says. “I wanted to congratulate you on your union on behalf of the Emperor. He extends his deepest apologies that he isn’t t able to be here himself.”

You nod curtly.

The soldier’s gaze slides to Rabban. “May I have a word with you?”

Begrudgingly, Rabban releases you with a final look. You watch his retreating form, mind reeling with confusion. What did the Sardaukar want with Rabban? And why did the soldier look so familiar to you? Idly, you wonder if the violent nature of the Sardaukar soldiers remind you of the Harkonnens.

No, that isn’t it. That soldier had been here before, at the dinner a few weeks before. He had been the one to call the Baron away, you recall. But he had been dressed as a Harkonnen soldier then, not a soldier of the Imperial army.

The revelation creeps over you uneasily.

Before you can give it much thought, however, someone whisks you away into the next dance. A protest forms on your tongue before you realize it’s Asha — cheeks pink and beaming at you.

“Asha!” You can’t help but laugh, partly out of relief. “I thought you were another terrible admirer.”

“I am an admirer,” she says, “though I would hardly consider myself terrible.”

“Terrible for taking so long to get to me.”

“My apologies, but the na-Baroness is in high demand.” You settle into a comfortable rhythm as the music plays and Asha leads you in the unfamiliar dance. After some time, she grows uncharacteristically serious. “I know your feelings for the na-Baron are…complicated…but your ceremony was beautiful.”

You raise a brow. “Really?”

“The way he saluted you…” Asha trails off, waving her hand as if to ward off tears. This reaction spurns your curiosity.

Trying not to sound too interested, you ask, “What does it even mean?”

A slightly dreamy expression crosses Asha’s face. “Generally it’s reserved for military generals as a sign of respect, something that soldiers do to show their loyalty.”

“So when he did it to me…?”

“He was signaling that he sees you as someone superior to himself, someone to respect. That he is your willing soldier.” Asha grins. “Everyone has been talking about it.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can think to say. “Should I have done it back?”

Asha shakes her head. “Definitely not. It would’ve been an insult to him. His judgement. You did the right thing.”

You’re not sure what the right thing was, but you let the subject go. It lingers in your mind, however, to the point that you over-analyze the moment during the ceremony, replaying Feyd-Rautha’s expression as he saluted you.

You want to confront him about it, but apparently your first dance is all you will see of your new husband on the eve of your wedding. Even trying to catch his eye is impossible as you are both continuously pulled in different directions.

“Is this a bad time?”

At first you bristle, afraid that you’ve been caught sneaking away from the festivities. You have no idea of the time but it has to be well into the morning now, and you just wanted a moment to collect your thoughts. The spot you’ve chosen in a darken alcove gave you a perfect vantage point of Feyd-Rautha, infuriatingly charming as he speaks to a pair of nobles out of earshot.

You tear your gaze from him.

“Father!” You run into the arms of Leto, Duke of Arrakis, who ambles down the hall to you. It’s reflective of your greeting with Jessica this morning, but he inspires only warmth and fond memories. The brush of his beard across your cheek fills you with longing. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“I apologize for not going this morning to visit you. Your mother insisted she go alone.” A frown tugs on his handsome features but disappears as quick as it appeared. “You look breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” you sigh. It’s as if you are a child again, the light of your father’s attention basking you in a sunny glow.

“I…” Leto pauses, deliberates. Your father is usually not someone to be lost for words. “I wish I had done something to prevent this.”

You touch his arm. “It’s not your fault.”

“I blame myself, it’s true. What kind of father willingly hands his daughter over to that…monster?”

“You had no choice. Neither of us did.”

“Listen, Y/N, your mother regrets how your conversation went this morning. She has only wanted the best for you,” he adds softly.

His words prick at you, and suddenly the warmth of his light diminishes. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Her intentions can be…muddled by her Bene Gesserit training. But that doesn’t change the love she feels for you.”

“Her love.” You chuckle bitterly. “All that she loves is what others can do to forward the Bene Gesserit agenda. You. Me. Don’t you realize?”

Leto’s expression softens. “Just come with me. She’s waiting for us. She wants to try again.”

Anger seizes you with white-knuckles and stifling heat, blooming in your chest. “I’ve given her too many opportunities to make things right. You just told me that you wish you could’ve prevented this. She could’ve prevented this. I do not wish to speak another word to someone who has orchestrated my entire life since conception.”

Perhaps you can blame the time that you’ve spent apart, the exhaustive events the day has presented you, but there is a side to Leto that you have forgotten — his frightening, unwavering loyalty to Jessica. A loyalty that not even you, his daughter, can temper.

His voice is that of a diplomat, detached and commanding as he says, “You will not speak of your mother in such a way.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but jumping to the defense of your mother cuts you deeper than any knife can. You swallow your disappointment.

“You’re fooled by her just like everyone else.”

Leto’s mouth tightens into an angry slash. “You are not the daughter I remember.”

“No.” You tilt your chin. “She is gone.”

“Then I have no business with you.”

Your tongue rolls in your cheek, over your teeth, carefully selecting your next words. “So be it. I won’t inconvenience you with my company.”

You can’t stand to witness his expression, or let him see the grimace of pain that graces yours, so you turn from him before either happens. You go, not back towards the party, but away — you can’t be here any longer. It feels as if your bones are trying to flee from your skeleton, your skin suddenly stretched too tightly.

Truthfully you have no destination in mind but your feet carry you to the one place that you know will guarantee silence.

Feyd-Rautha’s strategy room.

In the dark your fingers find the seam of the door and you ease it open, slinking inside. For the first time since this morning, you’re alone, and there’s no auditory assault of voices or music.

Back against the wall, you slide down to the ground and pull your knees to your chest. You will tears to your eyes but there are none to summon, lost to the icy numbness claiming you. Any other feeling is cast adrift.

Could it have only been three months ago that you were on Arrakis, sparring with Gurney?

You no longer recognize yourself.

The closest identifying factor is when the door open and Feyd-Rautha appears. There’s a resemblance there, a call of darkness in him that something within you answers. Your mouth twists in distaste. How did he find you?

“Go away.”

“No.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“I don’t care. This is my strategy room, and I can come and go as I please.” Cast in shadows, you can barely make out his face, but the scorch of his gaze is telling of his scrutiny. “Get up off the floor.”

“No.”

“Get up or I’ll make you.”

You weigh his words. Then you reluctantly rise to your feet, unable to look at him.

“This…attitude is unbecoming of you.”

“You’re a prick,” you fire back.

“A na-Baroness, brooding alone — and on the floor, nonetheless, like a common stray. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior.”

“Or what?”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. “I will have to remind you who you are.”

Heat flickers in your belly, a weak flame. “And what is that? A whore, a womb? I am nothing but what others have made me to be.”

Feyd-Rautha laughs.

He actually laughs.

The sound of which is so unnatural, so unnerving, that your muscles tense like they’re anticipating a fight. You flush with shame — anger — and raise your hand to strike him but Feyd-Rautha catches your wrist. His words lilt with ill-timed amusement.

“Surely you don’t believe that.”

You struggle to wrest yourself from his grasp, but the effort is futile. “Let go of me.”

“No. Never.”

Feyd-Rautha’s lips crash into yours. He steers your back to the wall, colliding with your spine. He swallows your cry of pain with his mouth, slanting it over yours, hands bracketing either side of your face. His fingers delve into your hair, pads of his thumbs pressing against your cheeks. The weak flame inside you ignites into a raging inferno.

He kisses you with a fierce, concentrated energy, as if his sole purpose is to bruise your mouth with his own. His tongue flickers across your bottom lip, behind your teeth. You moan at the same time Feyd-Rautha chooses to coast his hands down your sides and your head lolls back, neck bared.

He grabs onto you as his mouth flies to your exposed throat, hands greedily clutching at your waist. Feyd-Rautha presses a series of kisses that turn swiftly into nibbles, bites. He sucks and licks at your neck, no doubt creating a necklace of love marks, eagerly staking his claim on the sensitive skin. Each bite and lick winds you closer and closer to an orgasm, the idea of his lips marking you wickedly delightful.

Feyd-Rautha moves his hands to your ass, to the underside of your thighs, and hikes you up. Without thinking, you lock your legs around him. The action brings his hardened length nudging against your center and you whimper, grinding into him, desperate for friction.

“I want you so fucking bad,” you pant. “Please.”

He hums against your neck. “What did you say you were — a whore?” His hips roll with yours, the memory of him inside you inciting a moan from your lips. “The na-Baron doesn’t bother fucking whores.”

“Please,” you say again.

In response, Feyd-Rautha bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You wince even as pleasure floods over you. “Beg all you want but I won’t fuck a whore.”

You fail to conjure a response as he pins you to the wall with his hips, your arms thrown around his neck, and effectively loosens his hands in order to hoist your dress up. Your flesh pimples as it’s exposed to the cool air of the strategy room.

Feyd-Rautha’s hands skim over you, brush over your center. You whimper, “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to tell me who you are,” he rasps.

Feyd-Rautha teases your clit through your panties, drawing lazy circles with his fingers. You buck your hips in an effort to gain reprieve but he denies you this.

Your voice pitches nearly into a whine. “I-I don’t know.”

And you don’t — not after the sequence of your day, not with Feyd-Rautha unraveling you with his his hands and his mouth. You are infinitesimal, insignificant, clay waiting to be shaped in his capable touch.

“Then I will remind you,” Feyd-Rautha says. He pushes your panties to the side, ghosting his digits over your entrance so that you writhe in desperation. “You are my wife, the na-Baroness of the House Harkonnen. You will raze cities to the ground and bring men to their knees. I will fuck you often and fill you with my seed, keep you pregnant so that you bear my children. You are not nothing, you are magnificent.”

His words are punctuated by his short, breathy pants, fingers pressing to your cunt without giving you any of the pleasure that you seek.

“Now — tell me who you are.”

“I-I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife.”

A wail looses from you as Feyd-Rautha plunges his fingers inside you, relieved from your aching by his careful ministrations. Each pump of his hand brings his palm to your sex, quick and authoritative. A hand that had killed six men today, saluted you, bled with you, and the severity of the situation has your walls clenching around him — he is Feyd-Rautha, and he is fucking you with his fingers, littering your body with bites and kisses and mumbled, appreciative praises.

It’s not surprising that this drives you to orgasm with record speed, to alleviating the pressure building between your legs —

Feyd-Rautha removes his fingers, depriving you of your release. You almost howl in frustration.

“Close,” he says. “But I’m not convinced.”

“No, please —”

“You can cum once you’ve convinced me that you remember who you are. Until then — your pleasure will be withheld.”

Again, he punishes you with his fingers, splitting you open as he inserts them. Your back bows.

“Now,” he pants, “tell. Me. Again.”

“I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife,” you repeat, mustering as much conviction as you can. You would tell him anything if it meant cumming on his fingers.

Harder, faster, wrist snapping: “And?”

“And…I am magnificent.”

Feyd-Rautha’s satisfaction is evident even in the dark, judging only by the pulse of his fingers, the breathy laugh fanning into your neck. He removes his fingers again, though, to your chagrin, trading positions for one that allows him to see your face. “Oh, you are,” he purrs. “And I bet you taste even better.”

You hitch your legs around his shoulders at his prompting. Feyd-Rautha sinking to his knees while applying enough weight to keep you trapped against the wall. You suppress another whimper. Your thighs are nearly flush with your chest as Feyd-Rautha dips his head to greet your cunt, driving you higher up the wall and forcing you to grab onto his armor for support.

You can’t see him with the skirt of your dress in the way, but you feel his mouth hovering your entrance.

Feyd-Rautha presses a kiss to you. He flicks his tongue over your clit, then licks a stripe up your center back to it, lapping eagerly between your thighs. His mouth works in tandem with his tongue, his teeth, treating you to the same nipping and sucking that he administered to your neck. Your hips buck to meet his every stroke.

And then, there it is again, your orgasm fighting for completion, raking claws of molten lava through your belly, your pelvis.

From between your legs, Feyd-Rautha rasps, “Convince me and I’ll let you cum.”

You swallow down a cry of protest. If you don’t get your release, you might actually implode. You do your best to summon his words from before, “I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife. And I am magnificent.”

“And how will I fuck you?”

Your teeth grind as you recall, “Often.”

“Why?”

“To-To keep me pregnant,” you stammer out. You rarely allow yourself to imagine your body in such a state, afraid of what it will invoke, but you do now: belly swollen with Feyd-Rautha’s child, breasts full, a physical manifestation of the vigorous fucking he regularly bestows.

And just like that, like the snapping of a rubberband, he returns his mouth to your cunt and laps at you until you finally, finally, reach your orgasm. Feyd-Rautha holds you steady as the prolonged release cleaves you in half, shuddering against his mouth, your vision swimming with stars. Tears wet your cheeks with your relief.

You sag into him, and he effortlessly lifts you back to your feet, still trapping you to the wall, one hand lazily skimming your hip.

“Do not, ever again, think so lowly of yourself. Do you understand?”

Your head bobbles stupidly. “I understand.”

“Good.” He brushes hair back from your face, runs his finger along the scattering of angry welts he’s left on your neck. “Now, my jewel, how do you want me to fuck you?”

You commit him to memory, this renegade angel, a contrast of darkness and your own personal deliverance. “I’ll let you choose.”

Without missing a beat, Feyd-Rautha carries you to the strategy table and lays you flat on your back, maneuvering to grab your ankles, one in each hand and spreading you wide. He takes his straining cock from his pants and strokes it as he admires you. “Mm, my beautiful wife, so eager for me to fuck her.”

He traces your entrance with his fingers, then notches his cock there, sliding the tip of it between your slick folds. You ache to take him but with your ankles in his grip, he keeps you firmly in place. Like a silly, wanton thing, you try desperately to grind against him as he drags himself, up and down, teasing you.

“Please, Feyd,” you beg, “please fuck me.”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me, Feyd. Please.”

The ridges and crests of the strategy table bite into your back as he drives into you. The ecstasy of finally having him inside you is almost too much to bear — hips snapping, groans rumbling through his chest. He is inspired like this, immersed in the feel of your walls clamping down on his cock, pupils blown, plush lips parted with each panting breath.

If you only you could bottle up this moment, savor the way you both rise to meet the other like waves upon the shores of Caladan.

He pounds into you in a borderline frenzy, each near-violent thrust surging your orgasm higher.

Then Feyd-Rautha releases your ankles, your legs returning around his waist, and he captures your wrists instead, holding them over your head. The angle allows him to press himself to you, spearing you deeper, winding your desire tighter and tighter.

“My wife,” he rasps, “my jewel. Look at me.”

You meet his gaze. Feyd-Rautha smirks, pleased with himself, with you, and thrusts into you with swift finality. Your orgasm peaks and suddenly you’re shuddering and convulsing beneath him, pleasure wrought from every fiber of your being.

Distantly, you feel your cunt draw out Feyd-Rautha’s own orgasm, hips rolling against you as he spills himself inside you. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting, greedily drinking in lungfuls of air. Ostensibly, he recovers first and peels himself from you, tucking his cock back into his pants.

He helps you to your feet and you thank him breathlessly, thighs quivering as you stand, the wrinkled skirt of your dress cascading back to the ground.

“I suppose no one will question whether or not we’ve consummated our marriage,” he says.

Your cheeks burn. “Does it matter?”

“It’s typical for someone to watch to confirm,” he tells you, lifting a shoulder. “I said that it would be obvious enough.”

You gasp and swat his chest. “You didn’t.”

“The alternative was some noble peeking in on our fucking. Would you have preferred that? I do know you like to watch.”

“I suppose I wouldn’t,” you admit.

“Precisely.”

Feyd-Rautha’s eyes flicker over your face, and you can only guess what he sees there — you’re coated in a thin sheen of sweat and, undoubtedly, love marks, hair tangled and headpiece askew.

You shy away from him. “Do we have to go back to the reception?”

“No,” he nearly snorts, affronted that you would even suggest such a thing. “I fully intend on taking you to my bed and fucking you until you’re a mewling, quivering mess.”

Your cunt, still full with his cum, dripping with it down your thighs, clenches in anticipation.

“Then what are we still doing here?”

Part 8

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @kpopnstarwars @m-indkiller @dacreshoney

[alastors-antlers]

Why Alastor is good aroace rep after all, written by an aroace

Hello all! I just want to start off this post by saying that I'm one person who definitely doesn't speak for all aroaces, but I wanted to make a post on this anyway, and maybe some folk would be interested in hearing out another perspective?

I'm not really caught up on everything that's been said over the course of HH's creation - only more recent interviews, since I'm pretty new to the fandom. Apologies if I've missed anything, but also I do not have the time to keep up with all the out-of-canon-material backstory unfortunately. I'm working with what we've got here.

So here's the thing:

Alastor is cruel, he's narcissistic, he doesn't care about anyone except himself, he's a serial killer and a monster.

(That's the argument I've heard - please tell me if that's not really what people are going for lol, in which case I've totally misunderstood?)

The issue with aroace rep when it paints asexual people with those traits is that it aims to dehumanizes them. Sex and love are essential to the human experience, right? So why wouldn't someone be interested? Because they're self-absorbed, and cold, and detached. They don't have the capacity to love others enough to feel romance.

And sure, Alastor is a killer, and a schemer, and prideful, and a monster by hell's standards. But no matter how above it all and stylish and in control and provocative he wants to be, he's a very human character, and his aroace-ness never serves to add to his alienation. You could even say that it makes him seem even more personable.

That's what I think is the key difference.

why he's human

Alastor's whole persona is about control, and he basically straight-up says this. He's controlling what his enemies know, what his public image is like. His goal is to be the Radio Demon -- overlord of Hell, charismatic, Machiavellian, and undefeatable. He's not. Despite that smile plastered over his face (a powerful tool, huh) he's so expressive for someone who's constantly pretending.

You see his exasperation with the Egg Bois and with Charlie's ranting; his nervousness in front of Zestial; his frustration with Lucifer and the petty lengths he goes to to piss off the ruler of Hell.

You see his desperation, making that deal with Charlie. He's surprised by the idea of being vulnerable in front of an enemy like Adam, and so close to danger. He drops the radio filter and the affect out of fear, and runs on broadcast TV to let out panic and anger and bitterness in his hideout, where no one else can see him.

He has a smile that tells us he's genuinely happy to see someone; it's a little wider than his default. You see it with Mimzy's greeting, you see it with Rosie. Rosie, especially, serves to make Alastor more human to the audience. More on this later, but for now, I'm just saying that you can see that he at least seems to respect her greatly. Whatever bond they have, we know that he trusts her to touch him, to share history with him, and with support that he trusts no one else for.

He pretends, but he can't pretend it all away. Loads of these emotions aren't even advantageous for him to show. It isn't necessarily how the typical asexual psychopath acts; he's not emotionless or only capable of anger or brutality.

He's so full of emotion that it leaks through, despite all that he does to avoid it. He's not inhuman and aloof, not really - he's so, so human, even when he tries not to be because he thinks that'll be what keeps him above all the rest. In control, and free from his chains.

(If anyone wants to see images about all this, I'll make a separate post - just let me know.)

(I also have another post, talking about why Alastor is at least a little attached to the hotel's residents too, shown via conversation with Niffty. In what way? different question.)

how the aroace part contributes to that

Now, to be fair, we don't hear much about his aroaceness in canon. It's just not relevant a lot of the time.

In the pilot, Angel's proposition ruffles his feathers so much that Alastor blanks for a moment. It's a joke, sure, but that ace panic face is a pretty popular Alastor moment in the fandom - Alastor, thrown off-balance by a sex joke of all things, after so many years in Hell that he should probably be used to this.

It's a moment that makes him more approachable; his aroaceness shows him unprepared for something someone else does for one of the only real moments in the whole episode.

And the other part: the ace in the hole statement.

Rosie apparently knows Alastor so well that she read that he's aroace. That tells us about their relationship; namely, that it is long-standing and genuine enough that she gleaned a piece of real information from him. It's a casual fact that she knows about him before he even figured it out himself. It lends legitimacy to their bond - this bond that shows us a more comfortable and warm side of Alastor that we don't often see.

If their relationship is purely business, isn't this something pretty frivolous and personal? It's not like he has anything to gain by telling her about his life, but she learned about it somehow. How close are they? That's where it adds a layer of complexity and personality to his character..

thoughts on representation

Overall, Alastor's an interesting character who has a level of depth and care and personality (outside of cruelty) that asexual psychopath tropes lack. Again, the moments where he's being represented as disinterested in sex or romance don't make him seem detached. Again, they don't say "look how hostile toward relationships his behaviour is - how separate he is from our humanity". That's what bad villain ace rep is. That's not what the show's doing.

Also: I'm not saying that we need to lower our standards or anything, but even if you think it's not the best rep, I feel like we should be supporting HH's efforts here. I know that on Tumblr we have a pretty queer-friendly space going, which is honestly an understatement lol but

Aces are incredibly underrepresented in fiction. There's a whole Wikipedia page about asexual characters in media, and it's short as all hell, and even if you consider what's on there you see quite a number of one-off characters who are never mentioned again.

In terms of real life business - before the DSM updated their definition of hypoactive sexual desire disorder (HSDD) in 2013, identifying as asexual wasn't even a recognized thing. If you talked to a clinician about your lack of sexual desire, you could be diagnosed with a disorder. Only in the 5th edition do we now have a little exclusion footnote about it.

The concept of asexuality hasn't been explored nearly as much as other queer identities in our scientific research. We get crumbs in terms of mainstream representation and understanding. House M.D. has an episode where House "disproves" us because he's just so smart.

Alastor isn't going to be perfect representation. There's no such thing as perfect representation, and from the moment he was conceptualized, you could see how people would take him poorly. Still, I think he's a net positive.

He isn't a side character or a token ace - he's a core part of the show, whose personality and character motivations we can reasonably presume are going to be explored much more deeply in upcoming season(s). He's loved by the fandom. Right now, given what we know, I trust Vivziepop to write the aroace representation he deserves, because with the way I've heard the cast/directing/etc. talk about him, they're trying to do the aroace community justice, so I wish people would let up just a little on the whole "Alastor is bad rep".

Let's give him a chance, all right?

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: andrei got an all star weekend fic last year, so it’s only right that mat gets one this year! i literally have a million favorite pics from this weekend so i had to use them all i don’t care. i tried to hit a bunch of the main weekend highlights! i’m also aware that some of the timing and stuff is weird in the fic, but we’re just rolling with it and enjoying the vibes. 🧡💙

word count: 7k

tw: innuendo, dirty talk, protected sex, oral (m receiving), fingering (f recieving), thigh riding, extremely minimal editing

summary: all star weekend in toronto with mat is one to remember

“Who do you think will pick you?” You ask, settled comfortably in the middle of the hotel room’s mattress, wrapped warmly in the plush robe. You have the perfect spot to watch Mat at the bathroom sink while he shaves. He’s in his suit pants, but his chest is bare, giving you the opportunity to watch his back and arm muscles move as he works.

“Dunno,” he replies, slightly muffled. You can see his face in the mirror, lips tucked in and half covered in shaving cream. He lets his hand fall to the counter and turns to face you, a crooked smile on his face made even more lopsided by the shaving cream beard. “If it’s not Mo and Auston though, I’m leaving.”

You roll your eyes, knowing that your boyfriend loves Justin Bieber almost more than he loves you. “I want Nate and Cale to pick you. I want to meet Tate McRae.”

“You can meet Tate McRae even if I’m not on her team,” Mat scoffs, returning to his shaving. “When am I ever going to get a chance to be coached by Justin Bieber? Never, Squeaks! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“You’re such a dork,” you murmur affectionately, grinning at his back and tucking your face into the collar of the robe. You have to get up and start getting ready soon, but you’re too comfortable to move. Mat’ll go over to the arena earlier for media interviews and the red carpet, but you don’t have to be there, technically at all, but you want to see the draft.

Mat finishes shaving his face and wipes his cheeks off with the hand towel. “You’re not being very supportive of my dreams,” he informs you dramatically, tossing the dirty towel onto the counter and planting his hands on his hips.

You kneel up on the bed and gape at him, amping up the dramatics. “I’m spending my vacation in cold ass Toronto instead of Baha Mar because I’m supportive of your dreams,” you laugh, throwing your arms out to your sides. “Sue me if I want you to have a good celebrity captain.”

“The Biebs would be the best captain,” Mat replies, crossing over to the bed in a handful of steps, reaching out to rest his hands on your hips. His fingers play with the tie of the robe. “He played hockey and he’s a huge fan.”

“Are their colors at least the blue jersey?” You ask. “You look so good in blue.”

Mat lifts an eyebrow. “That would make you support my coaching dreams? The color blue?”

You hum, resting your hands on his shoulders, playing with the chain around his neck. “I’m very superficial,” you inform him, deadpan.

“Yeah,” Mat replies, equally deadpan, “me too.” He breaks a second later, grinning and peppering kisses all over your face, making you squeal. His fingers dig into your sides, tickling you under the robe, and you wriggle on your knees, slumping forward over his chest when you can’t take it anymore. Gasping laughter saws from your chest and you try to catch your breath, but Mat’s making it hard with his hands splayed over your back. They’re warm and slightly rough and you’re both really wearing barely any clothes, it would be so easy to drag him down onto the bed.

He seems to be telepathically picking up on your thoughts because Mat presses a kiss to your bare shoulder where the robe has slipped off and says, “I gotta finish getting ready or I’m going to be late. But when we get back after the draft, my body is yours to use.”

You pull back and grin at him. “However I want?”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “I need to conserve energy to reclaim my title tomorrow, so you have to do all the work.”

“Pillow princess,” you accuse, pouting at him.

“Just for you, babe,” Mat shoots back, cupping your chin in his hand and tilting your head back so he can really kiss you, licking into your mouth and leaving you wet and wanting when he pulls back. “Start thinking about what position you want me in.”

He winks, laughing, and heads back to the bathroom to finish getting his hair in place. You slump back down on the bed and call to his back, “I’m making sure I get two orgasms before you even get one.”

“Fine by me,” Mat calls back, hands working through his hair. “I like the way you scream my name when you’re coming on my cock.”

Your entire body flushes with heat and you press your thighs together. “Damnit,” you mutter, knowing you need to start getting ready and you definitely don’t have time for even a halfway satisfying orgasm. “For that,” you call, starting to roll off the bed so you can do your hair and makeup, “I get three orgasms before you get one.”

“You’re being so mean to your All-Star,” Mat teases, shrugging into his button down and starting to do up the buttons. You plug in your curling iron and roll your eyes at him.

“Should’ve known all the attention would go to your head,” you sigh, pretending to be burdened by him. “I’m your All-Star, Mr. Barzal, and don’t you forget it.”

His answering grin crinkles his entire face and you go to him easily when he reaches out to grab your wrist and tug you into his chest. “That’s why I’m letting you have your orgasms before I get mine,” he says cheekily, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek and disappearing to the other side of the room for his shoes.

You huff a little, a small smile playing on your lips, and return to fixing your hair. Mat finishes getting ready, lacing up his dress shoes and pulling on his suit jacket before throwing his arms out to his sides and doing a little half-turn, asking, “so, how do I look?”

“Like my All-Star,” you beam at him, tilting your head up for a kiss. He obliges. “I like this suit a lot,” you continue, reaching for your purse and withdrawing a Sharpie. You hold it up in between your bodies and tuck it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Just in case.”

Mat pats his hand over the pocket and kisses your forehead. “Thanks, Squeaks. Text me when you get to the arena, okay? I’ll see you after the draft.”

You nod and with one final kiss, Mat’s out the door, leaving you with some peace and quiet to get ready. You do wish that Bo or Noah had been voted in too, so you’d at least have Holly or Alexa to hang out with while you’re watching the events. Mat’s parents and Liana are getting into town tomorrow afternoon, with enough time to join you for the Skills Competition, but until then, you’re on your own.

Luckily, you run into Steph Marner outside of the arena, saving you from the awkward first day of a new school feeling where you’ll either have to sit alone or find someone you know in the arena. You know Steph a little bit from different events and you’re friendly enough, it’s not the same as having one of your girls with you, but she’s a familiar face.

“Hey, girl!” Steph greets you with a hug that you return. “Welcome to the six!”

“I really wish you were welcoming me to the Bahamas,” you laugh, falling into step next to her. The crowds are wild and you look around as you walk in, having never been to an All-Star game before this is so much fun.

She lets loose a laugh, “you and me both! It would’ve been nice to get out of the city for a bit, but what can you do?” She shrugs and you fall into small talk for a little bit, catching up on what’s been happening since you last saw each other.

By the time the draft starts, you’re pleasantly tipsy and getting into the fun. The guys are all sitting on little benches on the ice and it’s adorable watching them swing their legs like toddlers. You snap a few photos of Mat from your spot in the stands, knowing the professional photos you’ll get from the team’s social media team later will be better. The draft starts and you wait impatiently for Mat to be picked.

By the time the fourth round ends and he hasn’t been picked, you’re starting to get cranky on his behalf. And slightly anxious that he’ll be picked last, even though you know logically that won’t happen. On the ice, he keeps swinging his legs, fidgeting in place until finally Mo and Auston pick him to join Team Bieber, along with half the Maple Leafs - Mitch Marner and William Nylander included.

Steph slaps your hand in a high-five, “woohoo! Teammates!”

You laugh and cheer along with her, snapping a picture of Mat getting a hug from Justin Bieber. You immediately send it off to your group chat, adding the message: pretty sure he’s going to leave me for the biebs 😭

The girls flood the chat, but you’re too busy laughing with Steph about Mat and Mitch’s chatter on the Team Bieber bench.

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “Mat’s such a yapper. He must be talking Mitch’s ear off.”

“Please,” Steph waves her hand in the air. “Mitch can’t shut up either. They probably aren’t even listening to each other.”

As the draft continues, you tune out a little since Mat’s been picked. Eventually, you tune back in and your gaze lands on your boyfriend manspreading to an extreme degree. Muffling a laugh with your hand, you shoot him a text, knowing he won’t see it until later: spread your legs a little wider, babe, i want to feel the stretch when i straddle you 👀

The draft comes to an end and it’s a little bit of a whirlwind after that, chatting with people you haven’t seen in a bit and wandering the arena until you find Mat. Or he finds you, actually.

“Team Bieber!” He crows, barely hiding his excitement now that it’s just you in front of him.

You grin at him, squeaked laughter pushed from your lungs when he crushes you to his chest in a hug. “Happy for you, Mat!”

“Babe,” he shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear, “this is gonna be so fucking fun. He hugged me!”

“You are the biggest fangirl I’ve ever seen,” you tease, tucking yourself under his arm and wrapping your arm around his waist. “It’s adorable.”

“I know you’re making fun of me right now,” he says, “but I don’t even care. We’ve got a Bieber concert to get to.”

You shake your head and let yourself be dragged along to the concert, knowing that Mat’s going to have the time of his life listening to one of his favorite artists perform live and that you’re going to get so many videos of him singing along that will immediately be sent to Beau for blackmail material.

The concert is actually beyond fun, and by the time you get back to the hotel, Mat’s completely forgotten about his earlier determination to be a pillow princess and has you out of your sweater and jeans before you really process what’s happening. His mouth and fingers work you up to two hard and fast orgasms, leaving you sweaty and breathless in the middle of the bed.

“Fuck,” you mutter, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing them, bending your knees to draw his cock closer to your cunt. You clit throbs and the condom-wrapped head of Mat’s cock bumps against it, making you see stars.

“One more each, okay?” Mat mutters, pushing into you slowly. You whine and clench around him, scraping your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting, but doesn’t stop until he’s seated fully inside your pussy, breathing hard. Sweat rolls down his temples, dampening his hair.

You barely last a few minutes, overly sensitive from the last two orgasms, and you come before Mat, stroking your hands over every inch of him you can reach while he pumps his hips into yours. He grunts into your neck when he comes, filling the condom and nearly crushing you with the heavy weight of his body on top of yours. The air is pushed from your lungs, Mat’s sweaty chest pressed against yours.

“Fuck,” he mumbles into your hair, “that felt good. You feel good. Could stay here forever.”

You kiss his shoulder. “I’d make some kind of innuendo about being an all star, but I think my brain is melted,” you say honestly, still wrapped around Mat like an octopus and making no effort to move.

——-

Mat’s Friday is quiet, other than an early afternoon practice for the Saturday game and the Skills Competition at night, so you have a lazy morning with him in bed. Neither of you bothered with clothes the night before, so it’s easy to get your hands on him and harder to get his hands off of you. You slip under the covers and wake him up with your mouth on his cock, sucking him off until he comes in your mouth. After he returns the favror with a slow, lingering orgasm, you shower and decide to head off to explore downtown Toronto for a bit before Mat goes to practice and you head off to the airport in the rental car to pick up Mat’s parents and sister.

“Thank god you’re here,” you give Liana a huge hug after helping everyone load their bags into the trunk. “It’s so hard being the only one around to chirp Mat to his face.”

“Please tell me you have video of the Bieber of it all,” she grins at you, a little evilly. You nod and she she pumps her fist. Nadia shakes her head.

“Don’t be mean to your brother this weekend,” she turns around in the passenger seat to face you both. Michael had insisted on driving back into the city and you weren’t about to argue - Toronto traffic rivaled New York traffic.

Liana rolls her eyes. “Mom, he needs some humbling,” she replies. “It’s good for his character

growth.”

You hide a giggle behind your hand. The Barzal sibling dynamic is one of your favorite things to witness. “I promise, Nadia,” you say, leaning forward a bit, “Mat gets so much praise. He does need a little humbling every once in a while.”

Once you’re back in the city, you drop the car and everyone’s bags off at the hotel and head over to meet Mat at the arena. He’s waiting for you all in the main lobby, looking fresh and clean and beyond adorable in his new All-Stars beanie. His smile is huge and only grows when he gives his parents hugs hello. He rubs the top of Liana’s head in a noogie that has her punching his arm, while they both laugh.

“Hi,” you smile up at him. You missed him even though it’s been less than two hours since you saw him.

“Hi,” Mat kisses you quickly before tugging the beanie off his head and unceremoniously dropping it on yours, tugging the cuff of it low over your forehead and smushing your hair. You wrinkle your nose at him and he raises an eyebrow. “It’s cold and you look cute in it.”

You lift your phone, the screen lighting up to display a handful of social media notifications and texts, “not as cute as you, according to the Twitter girlies. Apparently, you’re giving babygirl.” Your grin is shit-eating and Liana openly cracks up next to you, even as Michael and Nadia frown at each other, completely confused by the social media phrases.

Mat’s ears go pink and he nudges his hip against yours. “Shut up, let’s just go for lunch and not talk about that,” he rests his hand against your lower back and slings the other arm over Liana’s shoulder, guiding the both of you out of the arena.

“Oh no,” his sister says in a sugary-sweet tone, “we’re definitely talking about it. I have a few of my favorites bookmarked to mention…” She trails off, starting to scroll through her phone.

“Mom!” Mat whips his head around to look at Nadia. She plucks the phone from Liana’s hands and stashes it in her purse.

Michael, in order to cut off Liana’s complaint, jumps in, “Mat, tell us about Patrick Roy. How’s the change going?”

Luckily, the new coach is a topic Mat could happily chatter on about for hours, so he takes the bait and you end up having a fairly peaceful lunch before heading back to the hotel for a little relaxation before the Skills Competition. Liana comes to hang out with you and Mat, while Michael and Nadia get in a quick nap after their long flight. You put a movie on, but really the three of you end up gossiping and catching up, before Mat finally kicks you both out so he can get in a short nap too.

“Love you,” he kisses you before essentially pushing you out the door.

“Yeah, I really feel the love,” you roll your eyes, quickly pulling your coat back before Mat can close the door on it.

Liana smiles at you wryly. “I don’t know how you put up with him, but thank god for you. Let’s go get a coffee,” she says, linking arms with you as you stroll down to the elevators. You have the toque back on your head, adjusted so it’s not smashing your hair flat, and you can’t help but smile when you think about Mat putting it on your head in the first place.

“He’s surprisingly easy to love,” you laugh. “When he’s not being a drama queen.”

“Ugh,” Liana rolls her eyes affectionately, “you guys are disgusting.”

“Be nice or I’m going to decide to renovate the guest room during the week in April you’re coming to visit,” you joke.

——-

The arena is even louder and more chaotic during the Skills Competition and you’re having fun with Liana, taking pictures and getting snacks while you wait for everything to start.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, scrolling through Instagram before the events start. The reel the team’s socials have posted of Mat picking out his skate blades has your panties immediately damp and you’re ready to demand it get taken down for your own sanity. You shift in your seat, damp fabric scraping against your wet cunt.

Liana looks over your shoulder to see what you’re looking at. “Oh gross,” she fakes a gagging noise. “He needs to put those away.”

“Or save them just for me,” you mumble, for her ears only. As much as you love Nadia and Michael, they don’t need to hear how horny you are for their son. Liana bumps your shoulder and your fingers slip over the screen.

“I’m gonna go blind, put that thirst trap away,” she frowns. “They’re going to start now.”

She’s right and Mat is the first one introduced on the ice. The four of you jump to your feet and scream for him, your heart pounding with excitement. Mat looks so stupidly happy to be on the ice, you can’t help but let out an extra loud wolf-whistle for him.

The Fastest Skater competition is up first and you won’t admit it, but you’re a little nervous for Mat to hold onto his title. You clench your hands together while William Nylander, Quinn Hughes, and Cale Makar go, crossing your fingers when their times are all over 14 seconds.

Mat’s fourth and you scream when he’s under 14 seconds, holding first until, of course, Connor McDavid unseats him. It’s annoying and a little frustrating, but you’re still beyond proud of Mat for being so close.

“Fuck that!” Liana grumbles, echoing your thoughts.

“He’s fastest skater in my heart,” you whisper back, purposely not telling her your plan to giving him a blow job at the end of the night.

One Timers is next. Honestly, you have no idea what the rules on this one are, but you just enjoy the show. Especially since Mat’s not that great in this competition in the end. You can see the scowl on his face and even Nadia laughs a little.

“He’s so hard on himself, even for fun events,” she shakes her head.

You can see him shake his head after his turn at the Passing Challenge, but honestly you’re really just focused on down damn good he looks with the backwards cap on his head. Watching Mat show off his skills is always your favorite thing. Mat takes third in this challenge and then talks to Kevin Weekes on ice and you record him while he talks, loving that crooked smile of his.

“I can’t believe he’s tied for first,” Liana shakes her head, filling in Michael and Nadia as they come back to the seats with drinks. “Think he’ll drop a couple thousand my way?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” you nudge her side. “Right after he funds my tropical vacation.”

During the musical break, you both get up to use the bathroom and stretch your legs. Your phone is vibrating with texts from the team and the girls, chirping Mat and making sure you know to pass on the messages.

Mat’s final event is Stick Handling and you keep your fingers crossed throughout the break - he’s in third overall and honestly you think he could pull off a win. Either way, you know you’re going to celebrate with him later.

“That’s my man!” You shout when Mat’s announced for second place. “Silkiest mits in the league!”

Liana and Nadia jump up to celebrate with you - Mat’s tied for first over all with one competition left.

He makes it to the next round and the three of you cheer, laughing and more than a little tipsy off of arena beers and cocktails. It’s so much more fun to cheer him on and celebrate Mat with his family.

“I always forget how good he is,” Nadia comments. “I know he’s good, but he’s having fun out there too.”

“No, he was literally off the wall excited to come back,” you tell her. “Being selected and then getting to replace Jack Hughes in the skills comp, on top of the new coach, Mat’s been in such a good mood lately.”

“He’s also whipped,” Liana teases you. You stick your tongue out at her.

“He just knows when he has to listen and turn off his hockey brain,” you shrug, talking over the music.

“Oh, Mat sucks at the shootout,” you groan, seeing what the One on One competition entails. “I just need him to not be last on this one.”

Mat picks Igor Shesterkin as his goalie and you watch him collect six points and sit in a tie for third. The New York rivalry runs strong and you can’t wait for the Stadium Series game in two weeks. You’re kind of treating the cold in Toronto as a preview of sitting out in the cold in New Jersey.

And with that, Mat’s onto the final round.

“One step closer to that cool million,” Liana grins. “You know how big of an engagement ring you could get with that…”

You choke on your sip of water and Michael claps you on the back while Nadia frowns at Liana. “No way I need or want something that big,” you manage to squeak out. “Not to be, like, basic, but I’d take a page out of Taylor Swift’s book and marry him with a paper ring.”

Your entire face feels like it’s burning red, talking about marrying Mat in front of his parents. You do, obviously, want to marry him, but it feels strange to say so in front of his parents when you’ve only met them a handful of times.

Liana’s shit-eating grin is identical to Mat’s. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says and when you try to say anything, she shushes you and points to the ice, where the obstacle course is starting.

“Oh, he’s locked in,” Liana says and you’re all leaning forward in your seats as Mat goes through the obstacles.

“Oh god,” you groan, covering your eyes with your hands as Mat struggles with the little nets. Liana and Nadia wince at your sides. It’s like a train wreck, you can’t look away from his struggle. When they have to bring out more pucks for him, your heart sinks into your stomach.

Mat’s time in the end is awful, and you can see his disappointment on his face when he looks up at the jumbotron. He would’ve beaten McDavid if the nets hadn’t tripped him up.

“Ah, he did his best,” Michael says and you nod. It sucks that Mat didn’t place higher, but you’re so proud of him. Considering he wasn’t even chosen to be in the Skills Competition in the first place, the fact that he made it to the final round and nearly won is an incredible effort.

Mat texts you all in a group chat that you’d honestly forgotten existed, letting you know that he still has to shower and do some media availability, so he’ll meet you all back at the hotel.

Michael and Nadia decide to head to bed and you promise to let Mat know - you’ll all get together for breakfast before Mat goes to his morning skate before the game at 3. You and Liana hang out in the hotel bar until Mat joins you a little more than an hour later, spotting you immediately and wedging himself in the few inches of space left in the arm chair you’re sitting in. He squishes you to the side with his thighs, spreading them without concern. His arms wrap around your shoulders and he kisses the side of your head. “Hey, Squeaks,” he greets you, adjusting so one of your legs is draped over his and you’re as close as you could possibly be.

“Jesus,” Liana mutters. “Get a room.”

Mat squints at her, “I would love to.”

You nudge his side and murmur, “behave,” at him. All that does is encourage Mat to get in your face and kiss you hungrily. A surprised giggle is swallowed by Mat’s mouth and Liana’s disgusted scoff makes Mat smile against your lips.

“I’m going to bed,” she pushes up from her chair. “See you two in the morning. And wear a condom, I’m not ready to be an aunt.”

You and Mat choke simultaneously, Liana’s laughter echoing as she dances away. You drop your forehead to Mat’s shoulder and he shakes his head, “she really knows how to kill the mood.”

When you shift your leg though, you can feel the bulge of Mat’s cock against your thigh. “I don’t think she killed the mood that much,” you tease, curling closer to him. “Should we go upstairs and I can reward you for being the all-star of my heart?”

“Cheesy,” Mat accuses even as he’s pulling you to your feet and guiding you to the elevator bank. “I’m exhausted though, I didn’t realize how much work the obstacle course would be.”

“I’ll do all the work, don’t you worry,” you grin at him.

Less than ten minutes later you have him on his back, cunt clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mat groans, fingers digging into your hips. “Baby, god, fuck feels so good.”

You lean forward, bouncing over Mat’s cock, nails digging into his chest. “Wanted to do this all day,” you gasp. “All the posts, your fucking thighs, Mat! Been soaked for you.”

He laughs underneath you, sliding one hand to play with your clit. You whine and feel your arousal leak from your body, smearing all over Mat’s pelvis. “Thought about riding my thighs, baby?” He asks, gripping your hip even tighter and helping you bounce on him.

“Every fucking day,” you admit, choking on air when Mat bucks his hips up into yours, the head of his cock smacking against your g-spot. “All-Star Mat is my favorite Mat.”

His face is red from exertion, beads of sweat rolling down his temples, but even still you can tell that your praise is getting to him, flushing his chest pink and making his rhythm over your clit stutter. You grin wickedly down at him, knowing exactly how you want to play him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur sincerely, grinding down on him. “Came in and killed it, made it look easy,” you hiccup on a particularly aggressive bounce, “so fucking handsome. My all-star. Mine, mine, mine.”

“Fuuuuck” Mat drags out the curse, bending his knees and planting his feet on the mattress so he can fuck up into you roughly. “Jesus. Wanted to win ‘cause you were there.”

You whimper every time Mat’s cock hits your g-spot, nearly there, and praise him again, “always a winner. Always my winner. Love you so much.”

Mat’s cock thickens inside of you while you clench around him and you plant your hands on his stomach for leverage and to feel his muscles bunch up in the lead up to his orgasm. He groans and squeezes a handful of your ass, bucking up into you harshly. “Gonna - sorry, baby. Need to come,” he groans your name, filling the condom with a deep growl. You keep riding him through it, replacing his hand on your clit with yours so he can grip your hips and bounce you while he finishes.

“C’mon, fill me up,” you whine, chanting his name, rolling your fingers over your clit until you finish a few seconds after him, gushing around the base of his cock and his lower stomach. You slump over his chest and Mat grunts underneath you, smoothing his hands over your ass.

“God, that was fucking amazing,” he mutters into your hair, kissing your cheek. “Gotta be the all-star more often.”

You laugh and wiggle your ass over him, cunt clenching lazily around him. “I dunno, I was supposed to take care of you, but you took over there for a bit,” you mumble against his skin.

“Couldn’t help it,” he shrugs, “looked so fucking good with your tits bouncing, that gorgeous face you make when I hit as deep as possible.” He yawns a little, swallowing the last few words of his sentence.

“Shut up,” you laugh lightly, swatting at his chest while you roll off of him, sticky and sore. Mat moves to get up, but you push him back a little and wrap a hand around his hip. “I’ve got it.” You make quick work of the condom, tying a knot at the top and padding into the bathroom to get rid of it. You rinse off quickly and bring Mat back a damp washcloth to clean off his stomach, but by the time you get back into the bedroom, he’s got one arm tucked behind his head and he’s fast asleep, letting out gentle grumbling snores.

You laugh a little to yourself, shaking your head. Men.

Still, you wipe him off carefully - not that it matters, he doesn’t move at all - and climb into bed with him, after stealing a clean t-shirt from his suitcase.

Mat chokes a little on his snore and rolls over, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you close to his chest. His arm is a strong lock over your stomach and you shift, getting comfortable before falling asleep with the warm weight of Mat’s body at your back.

You wake up a little bit later, with one of Mat’s thighs wedged in between your legs, corded muscle pressed up against your cunt, making it throb. You grind experimentally over his leg and he grunts against your hair, warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and making you shiver.

“Mat?” You whisper his name quietly and his arm tightens around your waist. You trace your fingertips over the veins on his hand.

His thigh flexes against you and you gasp, warmth pooling between your legs.

“Told you to use me,” Mat mumbles sleepily, kissing behind your ear. “Go ‘head.”

His hand is splayed flat over your stomach and he pushes gently, spurring you into movement. Your hips rock lazily over his thigh, the sleepy rhythm making it hard for you to hold onto the coil of pleasure. Mat rocks his half-hard cock into your backside and you sigh softly, heat building in your blood.

“Feels good,” he sighs, helping you move over him, eyes still shut. He hikes his thigh up higher, catching your clit on his leg hair and sensing a wave of pleasure through your body.

You whine his name, burying your fingers between your legs to help coax yourself to an orgasm. “Wanna feel you,” you whisper and Mat’s hand slips between your bodies, leaving your stomach cold, so he can roughly jerk his cock a few times, tugging until he’s harder.

He pulls you back by the hip, until his cock is nestled between your thighs and you angle back against him, slipping the head of him inside your entrance. A breathy sigh escapes your lungs and Mat rocks his hips so his cock thrusts in and out of your shallowly. Between his cock and your fingers, you’re falling over the cliff of pleasure within seconds, slick covering your thighs.

“Roll over,” you rasp, legs still trembling. You’re not about to go searching in the dark for a condom, so you settle yourself in between Mat’s powerful thighs and take him into your mouth, tasting yourself on him. Both of his hands land on your head, tangling in your hair and holding you in place while you lick at him, kissing the head of his cock and hollowing your cheeks around him until he’s coming in your mouth.

Mat groans, hips bucking up into your mouth, eyes screwed shut. “Babe, christ, love that fucking mouth,” he says hoarsely, hauling you up his body when you’re done so he can kiss you sleepily.

You’re exhausted and close your eyes again, lying over Mat’s chest, his arms wrapped around your back. “You make me so stupid,” you mumble against his collarbone, asleep before you know it.

——-

Saturday is the big game day and after your middle of the night sexcapades, you and Mat oversleep so he just barely has time for breakfast with everyone before he’s off to the arena for a little morning skate and a brief stint on NHL News.

You and the Barzals decide to take in a little bit of the Fan Fest before exploring downtown Toronto before the game starts. It’s fun to spend so much time with Mat’s family and you’re looking forward for them to coming to Long Island for Easter.

The games themselves are beyond fun to watch, since the guys are all taking it seriously while still having a good time.

When Mat and Team Bieber make it to the finals, you and Liana are beside yourselves, screaming with excitement.

“Mat willed them to a win so he can spend more time with Justin,” Liana laughs and you agree.

“Honestly, I’m not convinced he wouldn’t dump me for Justin,” you snort, snapping a picture of Mat on the ice.

Team Bieber/Matthews wins the whole thing and you know it’s just a silly fun weekend, but you can’t help be so incredibly proud of Mat and his performance all weekend. He’s been so light and happy all weekend and you know it was the break he needed to reset for the second half of the season.

After he finishes with post-game media availabilities - where he apparently mentions his future kids, much to Liana and Nadia’s delight and your slight panic, one day but definitely not any time soon - he comes and meets you all for dinner. Mat’s still buzzing from adrenaline and won’t shut up about Justin Bieber as a coach.

“He was just so invested,” he says. “Really wanted to win and knew what he was talking about.”

“Who’s a better coach,” you cut in slyly, “Justin Bieber or Patrick?”

He pins you with a wry look, as his parents laugh. “Squeaks, that’s just not fair.”

“It’s also not even a competition,” Michael points out. “I would think Patrick Roy has nothing on Justin Bieber’s enthusiasm.”

You recognize your boyfriend’s father’s sarcastic joke and giggle. Everyone knows about Patrick’s enthusiastic coaching style.

“I actually can’t wait to get back to it,” Mat says, swiping a bite of your steak off your plate. “I feel really good about the back half.”

Dinner continues comfortably for another few hours, Mat soaking up time with his family while he doesn’t have to worry about practice or a game tomorrow. Eventually, you all head back to your rooms - the Barzals are flying back to Vancouver tomorrow afternoon, while you and Mat get to enjoy the day together before the team flies in before the game.

“Oh, hey, check this out,” Mat’s nearly bouncing when you get back to your hotel room, directing your attention to a huge gift bag sitting on the bed.

You raise an eyebrow, “all star game swag?”

“Even better,” Mat’s eyes are wide. “Justin gave us all some stuff from his line.”

Muffling a giggle with your hand, you poke at the gift bag. “Justin? Your new best friend?” You ask, dryly, spotting a grey hoodie at the top of the pile.

Mat nudges you with his knuckles. “Just for that, I’m not sharing my new gear,” he informs you, pulling each item out of the bag. He’s like a kid on Christmas, giddy with each piece of merch and relaying more stories about Justin behind the bench, like you haven’t heard them all already.

You indulge him, getting ready for bed as he talks, giving him a soft, affectionate smile when he finally pauses his yapping. “You are such a dork,” you murmur, squishing his cheeks between your palms and planting a quick kiss on her pursed lips. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.”

——

Sunday is quiet, festivities over. Mat immediately pulls on his new Drew hoodie and you snag the sweats, going for comfort over fashion for your day.

“Steal that sweatshirt and send it to me,” Liana says, hugging you goodbye.

“Over my dead body,” Mat shakes his head at her. “Buy your own.”

You sling an arm around Mat’s waist and lean into him. “Oh, calm down. No one’s stealing the gifts your boyfriend gave you,” you wrinkle your nose at him in a crinkly-eyed smile.

He snaps at the waist band of your pilfered sweats and gives you a stink eye. You laugh, “I live with you! They’re going back to our shared dresser.”

“In my drawer,” Mat says and you nod, indulging him. You both know that you’re keeping the sweats.

Once Mat’s parents and Liana are off to the airport, the rest of the day is chill. You’re soaking up the time with Mat before he goes back into the grind for the back half of the season.

“Hey,” you say at dinner later, nudging his foot with yours under the table.

Mat looks up from the menu, hair a little messy, eyes still bright from the excitement of the weekend.

“I just…I’m really proud of you,” you manage to say around the little ball of emotion in your throat. You reach across the table and lace your fingers with his and Mat squeezes them gently. “This has been the best weekend and I hope you get to bring this excitement to the back half of the season.”

His grins at you, that crooked smile of his that you love so much, and says, “having you here was the second best part of the weekend.”

“Let me guess,” you deadpan, “becoming besties with Justin was the best part?”

He nods, eyes twinkling, “yep.”

“I hate you,” you snort a laugh, smiling despite yourself.

“It’s a really close second though,” Mat assures you.

With a faint sigh, you shake your head, “I see where I stand. Maybe I’ll just have to cheer for the Leafs tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Mat rushes to say and you kick his shin lightly.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “What kind of Long Islander would I be, rooting for the enemy?”

Mat pinches your palm, “a terrible one and an awful girlfriend too.”

You hum and say nonchalantly, “you’d think two blowjobs in a weekend, plus riding you, would cement me as best girlfriend ever.”

“Make it three and I’ll marry you right now,” Mat jokes, surprising a laugh out of your chest. Your heart skips a beat in your chest at the mention of marrying Mat, even as a little joke. You want to be his forever.

“You know,” you say, voice shaking just slightly, “marriage is all about give and take.”

Mat bumps his knee against yours, grinning wickedly. “Baby, if you wanted an orgasm, all you had to do was ask,” he says, voice low so he won’t be heard in the restaurant.

Your entire body heats with lust and you brush your fingers over your lips, hiding the involuntary little smile Mat’s words elicit. “Oh,” your voice is breathless, “well, if that’s all it takes.”

“You going to ask for what you want?” Mat asks, running his thumb over the backs of your knuckles.

Leaning forward, you hum, catching the faint hint of Mat’s cologne and the hotel shampoo. You wet your lower lip and watch as Mat’s gaze tracks the tiny movement of your tongue. Quietly, you murmur just for Mat’s ears, “I want some all-star orgasms before I become a hockey widow again.”

Mat chuckles and leans forward too so he can give you a quick kiss. “I think I can make that happen,” he replies easily, leaning back in his seat. You can see from the way his body shifts that he’s spreading his legs again. You shift in your seat, feeling hot. He smirks a little at you, clearly seeing the way your body reacts to him.

Fuck, it may be a three blowjob weekend after all.

[writingoddess1125]

The Buggy Twins as Adults pt. 2 🤡 🤡

Art by Vamos_MK check them out on Twitter!

Support me on Ko-Fi ☕️

Check out the rest of The Old Man Series

• When the guys get their incredibly high bounty they realize quickly- They actually need a crew and ship.

• It was only the blessings of some sick God that was keeping them alive and pure stupid luck. But they needed a ship-

• Which for them was easier said then done.

• In truth Buggy had gifted them a ship when they first set sail- However it burned down after Bee was trying to make a new bomb and it quite literally exploded it his face-

• Which was what lead them to the Marine Base, which was also accidently exploded by you guest it- Bee

• So a ship was needed Pronto

Dee looked over the maps to the nearest village, their small dingy bobbing him side to side as he looked over his compass.

"This is so fucking stupid-" He groaned, looking to his brother who was snoring barely a foot from him. Dee kicking his brother hard on the shin making his twin shoot up in surprise.

"Hey watch it!-" Bee grumbled as he glared at his brother, fixing the hat on his head as he saw Dee glare at him.

"Watch it my ass- We need a real fucking ship yesterday. How come you manage to blow up a damn navel base but can't find a proper ship!?" He screamed as his brother shrugged it off in a lazy matter.

"Lucky!? We have a 500,000,000 berry on our head and no God damn ship! We are fucked"

"Lucky I guess?-" Bee said which made Dee damn near blow a fuse.

"Well maybe we don't have to be-"

Bee said with a smirk as he pointed ahead, Seeing a growing mass right in the distance. Dee's eyes widened at this, looking at the map in confusion.

"Wait- There are no islands for at least another day or two what is that?-"

Bee smirked at this as he winked at his twin.

"It's a floating military base dear brother. Aka our ticket to supplies and a ship-"

• The twins despite better judgment rowed their little dingy to the side of the massive tanker and climbed up- Thanks to Dee's devil fruit abilties.

• Bee whistled at the sight of her, She was hot to say the least- Long red hair and face that was soft and delicate paired with the guns at her hip he wondered if she was good with her han-

• In truth it was far easier then they expected-

• The twins slinked through the ship, Fortunate that they were able to disguise themselves far better as it just required removing their makeup and stashing the fake red nose in their pockets. Deciding shirtless was better since they looked like lazy cadets who had rolled out of bed-

• Snagging a few hats and rushing with other groups they separated. Bee to make a distraction and Dee to find some supplies and hopefully take over the ship.

• Bee walked through the corridors of the ship, hiding in random spots to hopefully get to the helm.

• She turned the corner and he realized she was sneaking around too... deciding that it was best to leave her be.

• He had other things to do anyway-

• Dee went down below and saw that the ship was towing another- clearly a captured pirate ship of sorts. Which ment there was a crew on board.

Going down to the brig he snuck through, his head lowered like some cadet who was terrified. Glancing about he noted the lazed security, sneaking in he didn't see a whole crew but instead a lone guy chained up- each arm chained seperate and he had clearly been well beaten.

"If you're here to try again you aren't getting squat- You hit like a girl" He stranger grumbled-

"No im not a Marine- I'm not going to do whatever they've done to you" Dee said calmly, glancing around to look for keys.

"Is that your ship they are towing?" Dee questioned, the man glancing up and he saw yellow for a split second.

"Yes?.."

"If I get you out of here, can we all use your ship to go? Me and my brother need one" Dee admitted, feeling like honesty was the best option.

"Whats you and your brothers name?" He questioned.

"Dee and Bee... the Buggy Twins" He heard the man snort a laugh at this and nodded in agreement to the terms.

Dee stared at the man, Hesitant for only a moment before pulling out two pins from his hair and cracking the cage open. Starting on each arm of the chain to get him out, till pausing when he felt cold metal touch his head.

"Woah Woah-" Here helping Dee said calmly, glancing to see some red head girl pointing the gun at his face.

"Hold it Vi- He's with us.." The black haired man said quickly.

"Besides I'm Bullet Proof so let's lower the gun. We can all board the ship and get out of here before we get executed? Sound like a Deal?" Dee said quickly.

She lowered the gun quickly and sighed- "And here I thought you were anti-social Alu.." She said with a roll of his eyes. "This is Vivian, my gunner and hopefully first mate" The prisoner introduced as Dee finished taking off his final restraints.

The red head rolled her eyes "In your dreams... and Let's go-"

• The trio ran through the corridors. Hiding whenever solider passed them by and keeping low-

• However it seemed they were having better luck then the other twin. While had found himself at the haul of the ship all right- along with the Vice-Admiral of the ship.

"H-Hey There Cap just passing throu-" She cut him a look and held a hand up up.

"That is by far the worse get up of a pirate sneaking on my ship... are you stupid?" She questioned.

Bee stared at the Vice-Admiral watching as she pulled a sword and glared at him, noting he didnt even have a chance to lie.

"Fucking Pirates.. getting lazier by the day" She hissed at his idiocy, blade raised already to cut him down but he held up his hands with a dazzling smile.

"Woah Woah- before you off me Wanna see a magic trick?" Bee said with a wink making the women look at him comfused- Before in less then a second he pulled put 3 balls suddently and tossed them her way, her immediate reaction to swipe them away with her sword that was till mid air she saw the skulls painted on them.

"Shit-!"

BOOM!-

• The trio jumping from the massive ship to the lower towed away ship- As they Fell Vivian shooting at the rope connecting them to seperate.

• As the exposition hit the trio heard it and the alarms that rang out. Dee grabbing the two of them quickly already knowing it was his twin

• "MOVE Move!" He yelled as they went to the back of the ship were the smaller pirate vessel was being towed.

"GO GO! NOW!" Vi screamed as the three started to set sail to get as far away as possible.

The Marines seeing this as the sounds of Marines yelling 'THE PRISONER IS ESCAPING' Sounded and gunfire rang out from the Marines trying to shoot at them.

"DONT FORGET ME YOU ASSHOLES!" Bee screamed as the Marines shot behind him- soot covering his face as he clearly was caught in the explosion. Swan diving onto the smaller ship face first into solid wood. But it was better then being shot at!

• The prisoner helping the other blue haired teen to his feet-

• "Did you cause that fucking explosion?" He questioned as the twin of the man who saved him groaned and nodded.

• "Not spooky dude.. Alucare.. Dracule Alucare" He dark haired man grumbled, pushing back his dark locks as he looked at the twins. Both seeing the undeniable yellow eyes of the famed pirate lord son.

• "Damn right spooky dude.." Bee groaned out, The prisoner sighing as he helped him up.

• Canon fire rocking the ship as they all yelled and tried to stay put. As the ship groaned and creaked from the attack- Vivian jumping up quickly to help set the sails to get the ship moving faster.

• "Dracule? Like Mihawk? Holy shit dude your dad is like super famous!" Bee said in shock, Alucare shrugging at this. "Same goes with you.. The Buggy Twins, sons of a Yonko and having 500,000,000 Berry for the both of you. Not bad" The two men nodding in agreement of fluffing egos.

• Vivian rolling her eyes at both of them.

• "Wait how were you even arrested? You and your family are kind bad asses?" Bee questioned amused, The dark haired man sighing heavily.

• "Better term would be hunted down-" Alucare grumbled, rolling his shoulder with a heavy sigh.

• "Hunted? By who man!?" Bee yelled, Alucare glancing back at the massive ship thay they were sailing away from- Clearly the explosive damage from the Buggy Twins forcing the Marine Boat to stop for repairs completely and forcing the pirates to sail on woth minimum damage.

• "By her-" Alucare explained as he pointed out to the massive ship and the person who was clearly fuming standing at the front of the ship, Dressed in ger vice admiral uniform she glared hard down at the group of small time pirates- Fist clenched over her sword as she knew it was foolish to chase them.

• "The youngest and probably most brutal Vice-Admiral in history.. Lyra Beckman-" Alucare said with a hearty sigh- Bee jaw dropping.

• "WE FINALLY HAVE A CREW!" Bee yelled as the rest stared at the Clown, even Dee rolling his eyes.

• "Fuck dude-"

• "Fuck indeed... Now let's get some distance before she decides killing me is more important then ship repairs"

• They all agreed and began to haul ass away- until they were sure they were safe enough from the ship and it was a dot in the horizon. Vi glaring at Alucare before tossing a wrapped bundle at him, Opening it to glance and see some clothes and his sword.

• "Don't expect me to rescue you again-" She said shortly. Alucare brushing her off as he went to get changed.

• Bee took note of this- A swordsman... a Gunner.. his brother as a Navigator-

• "We are not a crew!" They all yelled at him.

[psychostxr]

𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐢 | worth

PAIRING. jordan li x female! reader

WORD COUNT. 1.1k

WARNINGS. angst, cursing, homphobia, insecurities, racism (some are very brief)

NOTES. inspired by @maraschino-ch3rry post about jordan not being marketable

KEYS. (y/n) - your name e.g. paige, sam, etc. (l/n) - last name e.g. cole, thomas, etc.

Fairy lights and flowers decorate the foyer of Godolkin's Student Union as the night of Brink's Memorial Gala unfolds. Your satin dress flows elegantly, hugging and highlighting your figure with a refined slit. Champagne glasses twinkle as they float by on silver trays, a luxury you can't resist. Grabbing a glass of champagne, you take a small sip.

Your eyes wander, tracing the guests who have gathered for the occasion. The guests, staff members, trustees, benefactors, and a few students invited or could afford to buy tickets are here to 'support' Godolkin University. As for you, you're here to support your partner, Jordan, and find trustees willing to vote for them.

When you finally spot Jordan entering the foyer, your heart pounds against your ribcage at the sight of them. Jordan looks hot in their black suit, and the half-pearl half-chain necklace adds to their charm. However, Jordan's expression doesn't match the mood of the event. They're frowning.

You wonder why until you see their parents trailing right after them. Downing the rest of the champagne, you place the glass on a nearby waiter's tray and scurry over to Jordan, careful not to trip over your heels or dress.

"Jordan!" You grin, pulling them into a hug. Their arms wrap around your waist as your lips kiss their cheek before grazing their ear to whisper, "Stop frowning. You're too attractive in that suit to be sad."

Jordan chuckles, a smile cracking across their face. "Thank you," they murmur, kissing your cheek in return. 

Jordan takes a step back, revealing his parents behind them. You plaster on a fake smile towards Jordan's parents.

"(y/n), meet my parents, Paul, and Kayla Li. Dad, mom, this is (y/n)." Jordan pauses, gulping. "My girlfriend."

"Hi, it's so nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Li," you say, offering your hand to shake.

Jordan's parents glance at each other, almost like they're communicating telepathically. Then, both of their lips quirked upwards. Paul chuckles, reaching out and eagerly shaking your hand.

"You have a girlfriend?" he questions, "Why didn't you tell us?"

Before Jordan can come up with an answer, you interrupt, "I'm sorry, that was my idea." You pull your hand away and rest it on your décolletage. "I didn't want Jordan to tell anyone. I'm a very private person."

"That's okay, dear," Kayla reassures. "We're just happy that Jordan's found someone is all."

"Well, it was nice meeting you both," you say, catching Jordan's parents' attention, "But Jordan and I have duties to attend to tonight." Like schmoozing trustees and securing votes for Jordan. "I hope to see you again soon."

Hooking an arm around Jordan's, you guide them away from their parents and towards the influential guests at tonight's gala.

"Private person, my ass," Jordan remarks once you both are far away from their parents. "One search of you on Instagram and pictures of me flood the app."

"You love it," you quip, unhooking your arm to hold Jordan's hand. "People know we're together, so they can't try shit when you're not around. Unless they want to get their ass kicked."

"You can't blame me. I don't like to share."

Rolling your eyes, you stop in your tracks, causing Jordan to halt.

"Earlier, before you arrived, I was scouring the guests, and I think a few people here would vote for you with enough persuasion. We just need to show them the marketable side of you." You gesture to a man nearby drinking champagne. "That's Daniel Travis, one of the trustees for Godolkin. We can start with him and work our way with the others."

Pulling Jordan, you walk towards Daniel Travis and put a smile on your face. "Mr Travis, I'm (y/n) (l/n), and this is my partner, Jordan Li. Could you spare a few minutes to talk with us?"

He lowers his glass. "Of course. What would you two like to talk about?"

"Well, as we know, trustees decide the rankings. And during the incident with Golden Boy, Jordan went down in rankings. We wondering if you'd like to vote for Jordan," you explain.

"I don't like to ring my own bell, but I am putting up the best stats of anyone here in forensics and combat," Jordan adds, "And to be honest, I'd love your vote."

"I've looked at your Q Rating, Name Recognition, and Social Trending, Jordan. They're down, and it's no secret," Daniel states bluntly, "Frankly, being bi-gender and Asian won't appeal to certain audiences in America, so, in terms of marketability, you're not in the best position."

Jordan's face falls at Daniel's harsh assessment. It's a tough pill to swallow. Daniel shifts his attention to you.

"But you (y/n)?" he says, "Your ratings are through the roof, and your control over your powers is remarkable! You're a marketable asset. But, you see, you could achieve even more if you broke up with Jordan."

The suggestion hangs in the air, a poisonous idea souring the elegance of the gala. Jordan feels a surge of anger and frustration at Daniel's audacity while you're shocked by his proposal.

You squeeze Jordan's hand, hoping to give them peace of mind while you resist the urge to use your powers and toss Daniel into a wall. Your eyes flash with a mix of anger and disgust.

"You must be out of your mind to think I'd ever let someone like you dictate my relationship," you retort sharply, "Now if you have nothing important to say, we're leaving."

With that, you lead Jordan away from the conversation, finding a quiet corner of the gala to catch your and Jordan's breath and collect your thoughts.

You knew that success could come at a cost, but compromising your relationship with Jordan wasn't a price you were willing to pay. Wrapping your arms around Jordan, you pull them into your embrace and kiss their temple. 

"Jordan, I'm so fucking sorry," you apologize softly, "I should've dug for more information on Godolkin's trustees before making any moves. I didn't expect that from Daniel."

Jordan sighs, resting their head on your shoulder. "It's not your fault, (y/n). But Daniel's got a point. My numbers are down. Nobody wants to see a bi-gender Asian Supe. Your numbers would be higher if we weren't together."

You shake your head, holding them tighter. "Jordan, don't listen to him. I love you with every fiber of my being. No marketing scheme or student ranking is worth more than my love for you. I don't care about the numbers. I care about you." You tilt their chin up, looking deeply into their eyes. "You are more than any label or statistic. I love you for who you are. Don't let anyone make you question your worth or our love. Because if anyone thinks otherwise, they can fuck off."

© psychostxr — all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, translate, or claim any of my works as your own.

[penny00dreadful]

Comeuppance - Part 1

Part 2 AO3

It was getting beyond ridiculous now. And if no one else wanted to help, then Dustin would take it upon himself. 

Steve had helped him get his first girlfriend. He’d put his body between Dustin and the demodogs in the tunnels, even though he was half conscious and fully concussed. He’d helped them escape from torture and taken the blows in their place. He’d kept silent about his bites while they strategized in Max’s trailer. 

He’d been with them through almost everything. 

The only thing he’d missed was that first year but even then he was defending Nancy and Jonathan. 

Dustin just wanted his brother to be happy.

And if no one else was going to do it, he’d do it himself.

He’d looked at his mother, how much brighter she used to be before his dad had died all those years ago. 

He looked at Lucas and Max who always had secret smiles for each other. 

He looked at Hopper and Joyce who’d found each other again after years apart, there to support their partner in everything. 

He wanted that for Steve. 

Steve deserved it.

To be happy with someone. 

Maybe Dustin had… breezed through one or two of his mothers romance novels for inspiration, trying to figure out who the perfect candidate for Steve would be. How he could make it happen. What the method might look like. 

With that in mind, he pulled in the rest of the Party who seemed to go along with him more begrudgingly than anything. Maybe they’d just gotten tired of arguing with him.

He’d have to examine later if that was something he needed to work on.

How could he become a world renowned scientist or engineer if he didn’t have anyone who would push back against him?

“Eddie!” Dustin called up towards the roof of the trailer, where he could just about make out the small plumes of smoke curling up against the bright blue sky. “Stop sunbathing, we need your help.”

The sounds of Eddie’s chains and jewellery rattled against the roof, telling Dustin he’d just rolled onto his stomach, allowing his arms to dangle down over the edge as he continued to puff away.

Eddie exhaled the smoke in his lungs and took a haughty tone when he said “A man such as myself would never be caught sunbathing, Henderson. That’s jock shit.” 

Something caught Eddie’s attention behind him. He glanced back and when he turned towards the Party again he had a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Did you hear me?” Dustin crossed his arms over his chest like he’d seen Steve do on numerous occasions before, trying to exude the same authority. “I said we need your help.”

“Alright.” Eddie let out a loud exasperated sigh. Dustin could tell he was playing up his irritation, though. “I’ll bite. What do you need my help with?”

Dustin grinned wide, delighted to be able to expound on his plan. “Steve’s love life.”

Something thudded against the roof of the trailer but Eddie didn’t flinch, didn’t turn to see what it was, just continued staring down at them, blank faced.

“What was that noise?” Mike asked, staring up at him.

Eddie shrugged. “Kicked something. Pray tell, why are you coming to little old me for help with Steve’s love life?”

“You two are friends now, right?”

Eddie snorted into his elbow. “I suppose that’s one word for it.” He muttered, barely audible from all the way up there.

“And you’re a guy his own age.” Dustin had to shield his eyes from the sun as he stepped closer. “He’ll listen to you.”

That got a loud laugh from him. “The hell gives you that idea?”

“He’ll listen to you more than he’ll listen to us.”

“You’d be better off asking Robin.” Eddie propped his chin up on his hand. “They’ve got that weird mind meld thing going on.”

Dustin huffed. 

Robin would never hear them out. 

“We can’t ask Robin.”

“Well maybe you should stop meddling, you ever think of that?”

Meddling? What was he, a child? Some evil villain? No. He wouldn’t call what he had planned meddling. He was aiding. He was helping. 

Meddling implied he didn't know what he was doing, which he did. 

He'd researched.

“I’m not meddling. I’m helping. We’re just trying to make the guy happy so what’s the issue? He’s clearly lonely.”

Eddie’s expression hardened. “Clearly lonely, is he? That’s a real charming thing to say about your babysitter, Henderson. Not everyone needs romantic connections in life. He has me, he has Robin. He has Nancy and Jonathan and Argyle. And up until a few seconds ago I would have said he had you all too. But apparently you’re not enough. Because he’s lonely.” He spat out the last word like it had personally offended him.

“He’s been single for so long-”

“Have you considered that maybe he’s happy that way? Or that he already has someone and just hasn’t told you?”

Dustin scoffed, crossing his arms again. 

Eddie just wasn’t getting it. 

“He’d tell me if he had someone.”

“Oh, you think so, do you?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Eddie let his voice drop low. “Because you meddle, Dustin Henderson.”

“Dude, why are you being so defensive right now?” Couldn’t he see that what Dustin was doing was for the best? For everyone? Why did no one seem to want the same things for Steve that he did? “We’re asking for your help to make our friend happy!”

“Why can’t you ask Robin?”

Robin also wouldn’t get it.

“She’s too close to the issue. She won’t be objective. She’ll side with him no matter what.”

“And I won’t?”

“No. Because I know what I’m doing? I’ve researched this? It’s not fucking rocket science. If the idiots in movies and tv can make it happen surely we’ll be able to do it easily.”

The Party was practically a protégé mix of brains. There was no way this could fail.

“Movies and tv.” Eddie muttered to himself like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Jesus Christ.” He tilted his head back behind him for a few moments, listening for something before turning to face them again. “Alright, listen. I’m not agreeing to anything yet but tell me who’s the other person wrapped up in this?”

Dustin finally allowed himself to smile, proud of the clincher he was just about to reveal.

“Nancy.” He said, puffing out his chest and cocking his eyebrow. 

He’d definitely just won this argument.

Except Eddie didn’t smile back at him and immediately agree, like Dustin had been expecting. 

Instead Eddie moved his whole head with an eye roll and groaned. “You can’t be serious. He’s over Nancy. He’s told us all many, many, many times. He doesn’t want a relationship with her.”

Fuck sake. What wasn’t Eddie getting about this? 

That’s just what people said when they were trying to save their hearts or there was some kind of contrived misunderstanding. 

Dustin had seen the way Steve looked at Nancy from the car at the Snow Ball. 

He’d heard the things he said to her in the Winnebago.

“Well, I don’t believe it. There has to be a reason he’s not dating Robin and we all heard the Winnebago talk. They’re meant to be. They’re perfect for each other.”

Eddie pursed his lips but stayed silent for a few seconds, considering. “Okay. And what about Nancy?”

Dustin blinked up at him confused. “What about her?”

“What does she say about this whole thing?”

“We can’t tell her, Eddie. We can’t tell either of them. Obviously.”

“Uh-huh. So Steve’s pining after Nancy, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Is Nancy pining after Steve?”

Dustin opened and closed his mouth, trying to formulate his comeback. He hadn’t really… thought too hard about that. But like… why wouldn’t she want him? 

He was handsome, he was strong, he had money, he wanted kids, he wanted marriage, he was respected around town.

He was the perfect package!

And actually, if Dustin remembered correctly, she’d smiled at Steve during the Winnebago talk so she was receptive at the very least. 

But he didn’t have a chance to articulate his argument because Eddie was barrelling ahead again.

“Oh right, I get it. Nancy doesn’t have any agency in this because the guy should always get the girl no matter her opinion right?”

“No!” That wasn’t what he meant. “It’s not like that-”

“You’re telling me that Nancy Wheeler,” Eddie interrupted, “gun toting, government fighting Nancy Wheeler. The same Nancy Wheeler who is currently working on her exposé of the sexism she experienced at the Hawkins Post, which is due to publish the second she goes to college at Emerson, where she already has an internship lined up, is going to just go along with this? And also, did I forget to mention, she leaves in six weeks? If you do get the two together what’s Steve supposed to do then?”

That was all semantics. 

Once they were together they could work that out between themselves! But Dustin knew Eddie wasn’t going to like that answer so he came up with something else quickly because it wasn’t that hard, because this made sense.

“He could go with her!”

“Oh, so fuck any desires he had, then? He’s just gonna drop everything here and go? Follow her like a lost puppy?”

Dustin rolled his eyes again. “C’mon Eddie, now you’re just being combative for the sake of it.” He placed his hands back on his hips, again trying to exude parental authority. “It’ll be good for him to experience things. What does he even have here to drop? I mean, it’s about time he moved on from this town, right?”

“Henderson.” Eddie snapped in warning. 

There was a moment of pause where they both stared at each other before Eddie rolled back around to face the back of the trailer. He muttered something in low tones that Dustin couldn’t hear and the next second was clambering down off the roof.

He landed far more gracefully than Dustin would have thought he was capable of before stomping over. “Do not let him hear you say that. He’ll think you don’t care whether he’s here or not.”

Dustin threw his arms out at either side of him. How could Steve possibly think that? He was just stating plain facts! “Of course I care!”

“Then act like it!” Eddie threw his own arms out in a similar fashion. “You’re making these decisions without him. What you’re trying to pull is peer pressure, all of you, you understand that right? It’s barely a step away from bullying.”

“Eddie, c’mon.” Mike crossed his arms, unable to meet his eye. “You’re looking at this all wrong. That’s not-”

“Yes it is. You’re all trying to get him to conform to what you think he should do, regardless of how he feels about it.”

Dustin shook his head, looking up at Eddie and imploring him to understand. What they were doing wasn’t malicious. “I just want him to be happy.”

But Eddie wasn’t relenting so Dustin would have to compromise somewhere to make this work.

“I understand that.” Eddie started. “But this isn’t-”

“Listen okay, FINE.” Dustin huffed. He did not stomp his foot. “I swear if you help us I’ll… I’ll stop if it doesn’t work. I swear, I promise if this doesn’t work and we don’t get Steve and Nancy back together I’ll never meddle in his affairs again. Please, I swear.”

Eddie loomed over him, dark eyes, dark hair, dark clothes, intense presence and Dustin was suddenly reminded of why he was intimidated by him when they first met at school. “On your mother?”

He nodded eagerly, hope starting to rise in his chest. “On my mother.”

“Okay.” Eddie sighed. “If it doesn’t work you are to never stick your nose in his business again, you understand me?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Dustin agreed, his mind already planning far ahead. “But you don’t need to worry about it, it’ll work.”

“You’re so sure of that are you?”

“I know him best out of all of us, I know him.” He tried not to let his smugness through, he really did try. But he couldn’t help it. “This’ll work.”

“I think you’re looking at this through little kid lenses and can’t see past the end of your own nose.”

Dustin opened his mouth in offence. “I’m smarter than you, you know.”

“I know but that doesn’t mean you’re a grown up. You're sure you have all the relevant information? You know everything there is to know and there's no way this could go wrong?” Eddie was acting like he knew something Dustin didn't, which just couldn’t be true. He’d planned for all the eventualities. 

“Of course I do.”

“Alright.” Eddie nodded, turning back to his trailer and pulling himself back up onto the roof. “If you’re sure. Now scram, kiddos. I gotta get back to my sunbathing.”

It was all going terribly. 

If Dustin didn’t know any better he’d think that Steve was totally checked out from the romance sphere. And he was acting a little weird. During one of their usual rides to the arcade, he’d told Dustin he was happy, which was great but it had come out of nowhere.

“Okay? I’m glad you’re happy?”

“I mean it though.” Steve drummed his fingers against the wheel. “Where I am in life right now, my friendships, my relationships, I’m happy. I don’t need anything to change. I’m good with how things are.”

Dustin had to think back on what they’d just talked about. 

They’d been speaking about Steve’s most recent trip to Indy. He’d been a little cagey on what he, Eddie and Robin had been doing up there, but that was probably because it was some weird grown-up thing they were doing that they didn’t want Dustin to know about. Like he couldn’t handle it, whatever it was.

There was nothing they’d talked about that might have led to this.

“Right… well thanks for letting me know?”

Steve just nodded at him like it was a job well done and the whole thing was just plain weird.

Things got even weirder when he saw Nancy. She was dropping off some of her old study notes to him and she mentioned that it was a good thing that she was single right now. She’d be going away to college soon and she couldn’t stand the idea of dragging someone away from their home just for her sake.

Dustin stared at her a little bewildered but tried to get her to see reason anyway. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone there with you, though?”

“No,” she answered lightly, “it would probably add more pressure to be honest.”

Dustin didn’t think there was any way that was true. Surely it would be easier to acclimate with someone from home to keep her company.

But despite his numerous attempts to get Nancy and Steve alone together in situations that could easily turn into dates, with soft touches or glittering eyes or whatever else the fucking books talked about, nothing had happened. 

No progress had been made and it was fucking frustrating.

He’d gotten the two of them to sit together, away from the rest of the group at the cinema and they just… watched the movie?

Not once did Steve try to put his arm across the back of Nancy’s seat or take her hand or even whisper to her, getting their faces close together except to nudge her playfully for the popcorn. It was a perfect set up and he was doing nothing with it.

How was Steve so bad at this?

Didn’t he have a reputation in school?

And Eddie was less than helpful. 

Every time Dustin leaned forward in anticipation of something happening between the two of them, Eddie would throw a kernel of popcorn at his head with a childish giggle, watching the scene unfold like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Dustin’s next attempt had fallen flat as well. 

He’d told Nancy that all the older teens were meeting at the diner for dinner together and had gotten Eddie to pass the message onto Steve. Nancy seemed wary initially but relented surprisingly easily, without much of a fight and Dustin was convinced he was getting better at this.

But the Party watched from the bookshop across the street as the two of them chatted amicably and even laughed together a few times but that was it. They didn’t share any food between them, they didn’t feed each other, they didn’t even get the single milkshake with two straws. 

That was a beginner level move!

Dustin was losing his fucking mind, just trying to get those two to do something so he had to go big. 

Again he recruited Eddie to help, out of complete necessity this time. 

Because there was no way Dustin could sneak into The Hideout to see how this plan was shaping up but he was confident that something would happen this time around. 

He told Eddie to do everything within his power to keep the two of them together. 

Alcohol is a social lubricant, it shouldn’t be that hard. 

Eddie had just scrunched his nose in disgust, mouthing 'social lubricant' to himself.

But even that was a lost cause because when Eddie walkied to update him on their progress a little breathless, probably from playing, he said he’d shredded so hard on stage, Steve spent the whole time watching the performance which was the exact opposite of what they were trying to do.

Dustin was nearly ready to lock the two of them in a closet until they got to it, but he wasn’t there. 

Yet.

He had another option up his sleeve.

Which is why he was shocked when Max announced she was pulling out of the whole thing.

“Listen, dipshit. It’s not working.” She’d said, frowning at him.

“It will work! You can’t pull out now!”

“I can and I will. When you come from where I come from you learn pretty quickly to mind your own fucking business if you don’t want a punch in the face and it’s getting there.”

Dustin could do nothing but throw his hands into the air as she stormed off.

It gave him the final push to start ramping things up.

“Eddie, we need you to flirt with Nancy.”

The man in question turned his head slowly and methodically until he was facing Dustin completely, his hand still hovering over the battle map he was prepping.

“Excuse me?”

“If you make Steve jealous, that might be the kick he needs to finally do something.”

“You’re playing with fire here, Henderson. You can’t toy with people’s feelings like that.”

“Who’s toying with feelings? There’ll be no feelings involved.”

“What about Steve’s feelings? What about Nancy’s?”

“You're overthinking this.” These kinds of miscommunications always worked out in the end, come on.

Eddie’s mouth was set in a firm, grim line. 

He looked beyond irritated.

“And there’s no way this could possibly blow up in your face, right?”

Dustin looked at him like he had six heads. 

Why was he the only one who was seeing sense here? This was how things were done. 

He was saved from having to answer by the arrival of Nancy and Mike into the Harrington basement.

Steve barely glanced up at their arrival, just sending a short smile their way, too deep in conversation with Robin about the news or interior design or whatever the fuck grown ups talked about.

Dustin sent a very pointed look Eddie's way who heaved the most put upon sigh, rising from his seat and giving him, the middle finger which he sarcastically reciprocated.

“Hey Nance.” Eddie said, sildling up beside her and oozing charm and charisma. “I'm glad you decided to come today. Don't know what I would've done if I had to go without seeing your pretty face for much longer."

Steve and Robin’s conversation abruptly cut off. 

Robin was blinking up at Eddie from her position on the couch with nothing short of bewilderment and Steve just raised an eyebrow looking almost amused.

God damn it, why was he amused?

Nancy herself looked incredibly confused, flitting her eyes in between Steve and Eddie for just a second before Eddie made some kind of hand gesture that Dustin couldn’t see.

Nancy smiled.

“Just a pretty face?” She asked, batting her eyelashes at him which on its own was weird. Dustin didn’t think he’d ever seen Nancy do that before.

“Oh of course not, Lady Wheeler. Everyone knows you’re more than just a pretty face.”

She reached a hand out, grasping his upper arm in a little squeeze. “Dunno if I could say the same thing about you.”

Eddie clutched at his heart, stumbling back a few steps. “Oh! The Lady Wheeler has wounded me most grievously!”

“Oh, stop it, you.” She swatted at his arm. “You’re still pretty.”

Which… this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Nancy wasn’t supposed to flirt back! 

“Would you care to join us?” Eddie asked, sweeping his arm out towards the table where the rest of the Party had finished setting up. 

Dustin stared open-mouthed. 

Eddie never asked anyone to join unprepared. 

“I’ve heard this arena of play isn’t unfamiliar to you.” He continued, lowering his voice and leaning in close to Nancy but he wasn’t quiet enough to stop Dustin hearing him. “I’ve even heard you used to get into costume for the kiddies. You into a bit of roleplay, Nancy?”

Steve widened his eyes at Eddie and twisted his wrist.

Shit. 

Steve hadn’t won most human on human fights but he could probably take Eddie to the cleaners pretty easily. 

Steve wouldn’t though, right? He wasn’t that kind of guy?

Dustin was, thankfully, proven right when both Steve and Eddie went back to ignoring each other in favour of watching Nancy.

Eddie straightened up and Dustin could see a slight scowl and a glare on Nancy’s face but it was filled with more fond exasperation than outright anger.

Eddie broke away from her with one last wink and took his seat behind the DM screen while Nancy lowered herself down next to Steve and Robin.

“I’m going to pay for that later.” Eddie muttered to himself.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Mike grumbled, thudding his forehead into the table.

“Chill the fuck out, Romeo.” Dustin hissed. “You’re supposed to be making Steve jealous not getting Nancy to actually like you.”

Eddie just shrugged. “I can’t help it if I’m irresistible.”

Time flew by as they all got sucked into the game and Dustin felt his spirits lifting. Steve kept glancing in Eddie’s direction and it gave him hope that their plan had worked. Maybe he was getting jealous if he couldn’t keep his eyes off him over the top of the magazine he was pretending to read.

Dustin’s suspicions were all but confirmed in the next few days as Steve started to slowly mope around every time Eddie shot a wink in Nancy’s direction or made her giggle. 

It was honestly a bit over dramatic the way he’d sigh wistfully towards them or get an honest to god pout on his face.

“This is your chance, dude!” Dustin jumpscared Steve in his kitchen, nearly causing him to spill the popcorn he’d just poured into a large bowl.

“Jesus H. Christ, where the fuck did you come from?” Steve set the bowl down a little louder than he needed to before reaching up to rifle through his cabinets for more snacks.

“Washington.”

“Har har, very funny.”

“I’m serious about this, Steve. Aren’t you jealous seeing Eddie flirting with Nancy all the time? Don’t you want to do something about it?”

"Dunno if I'd call it jealousy." He muttered.

"Come on, you need to like…" Dustin wanted to say 'mark your territory' or something but he was pretty sure if that ever got back to Nancy he'd be six feet deep before he could even blink, so he just mimed a shoving motion.

“You’re not seriously suggesting I punch Eddie for Nancy’s favour are you?”

“No! That’s not what I’m getting at at all, fucking hell. I meant for you to turn on your Harrington Charm I’ve heard so much about! Steal her away from him!”

“I don’t think anyone can ‘steal’ Nancy Wheeler, Henderson.” His tone abruptly shifted from exasperation to something sadder, like he’d flipped a switch. “Besides, what’s the point?" He sighed, like a wistful maiden. "She’s clearly more interested in Eddie than in me.”

“That’s a very defeatist attitude. You haven’t even tried anything yet.”

Steve looked down on him, turning something over in his head before nodding. “Okay. I’ll try. Now help me carry these back inside.”

Dustin happily filled his arms with snacks and followed Steve back out to the living room where the rest of their friends were waiting.

Eddie and Nancy were sitting side by side on the couch, pressed up against each other. Dustin took his seat on the floor along with the rest of the Party, spreading the snacks out in front of him and keeping an eye out as Steve flipped the lights off before making his way over to the two.

“Excuse me there while I just-” Steve lowered himself down, directly in the middle of Eddie and Nancy, practically on their laps until they squirmed away to avoid their legs being crushed under the weight of one muscular jock. 

Eddie was biting his lip in the way he usually did when he was trying not to laugh and Nancy had her hand covering her mouth, maybe in shock. Probably in shock. 

Robin sat next to all of them in an armchair with her hands covering her face, shaking her head and Dustin had to try very hard not to facepalm into the next century. 

God this guy was hopeless.

Steve wiggled a little in place, getting comfortable and placing the popcorn bowl on his lap with a goofy grin. “Are we ready to start?” He asked, plucking the remote from Eddie’s hand and pressing play.

It was only a couple of days later when Dustin’s walkie crackled to life in the dark evening hours.

“Operation White Picket Fence, sound off.” Mike's voice came through.

One by one each member of the Party confirmed they were there, ending with Dustin. “This is Dart the Bard, checking in. Over.”

“This is a Code Orange, I repeat this is a Code Orange. Over.” Mike called.

“Hold on Paladin. We need to wait for Kas. Over.”

“That’s a negative, Dart. We need to talk without him. Over.”

But Eddie was a part of Operation White Picket Fence, even if his participation was working a little too well. Maybe that’s what this was about.

He huffed, endlessly glad they'd decided to stick to codenames, he couldn't deal with his mother overhearing any of this.

“Okay,” Dustin replied, “let’s switch to our backup channel just in case he checks in. Over.”

The Party sounded off their agreement and he turned the dial on his walkie, settling on the right numbers and waiting to find out exactly what was going on.

“The plan is backfiring. It’s going wrong. I overheard Emerson on the phone talking about Kas and Babysitter. She was going on about how she’s really started to like Kas. Like like. She has a full blown crush on him now and apparently it’s helping her move on from Babysitter. Over.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shitshitshitshit! This is not what was supposed to happen! Over!”

“I know! What the hell are we supposed to do now? Over.”

"We'll tell Kas to stop. Maybe get him to start talking up Babysitter instead. Over."

"I don't want to see my s-Emerson get hurt over this, Bard. Besides, Kas is way better than Babysitter anyway. Over."

"But they're not meant to be! And Kas doesn’t even like her like that! Babysitter and Emerson are meant to be! We'll just have to regroup. Start pushing them harder or something. Over!"

"Yeah, because that's been working out so well so far." Lucas grumbled. "Over."

Dustin nearly jumped at the sound of the phone ringing elsewhere in the house. He sat, waiting for his mom to pick up. At least if she was on the phone he could be sure she wasn’t listening in. 

When the ringing stopped and he could hear the muffled sounds of his mother talking to someone, he continued.

“Babysitter hasn’t been on a date in months and the only person he’s been hanging around with other than Red Bird is Kas! He’s not trying anymore so this has to happen before Emerson leaves for-”

“Dusty? Phone for you.�� His mother’s voice came through his closed bedroom door, accompanied by her knock.

“Shit. Hold on, guys. Phone. Over.”

Dustin pushed himself to his feet and opened the door, following his mother down the hallway. “Who is it?”

“Eddie.” She replied with a soft smile.

Speak of the devil. He thought. Well, no time like the present to sort this out.

“Hello?”

“Hey Dusty-Buns.” Eddie’s infuriating smile was audible.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“But it’s so fun! Listen, I need to talk to you about this whole Nancy and Steve thing-”

“Good, because I need to talk to you about it too. You gotta dial it back, man.”

Eddie paused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re getting in too deep with her, you’re starting to pull her attention away from Steve and that was not a part of the plan.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m not sure if I can really do that…”

“Wha- why? Why, Eddie, why?!”

“I dunno, man.” Dustin could hear him shrug. “I kinda like her.”

“No! Nonononono! You can’t like her! You’re not allowed to like her, why do you like her?!”

“What do you mean I’m not allowed? And as for why, have you met her? You used to have a crush on her!”

“Yeah, when I was a child, you can’t be serious about this, Eddie.”

“I’m super serious about this, Dustin. I like her. I want to ask her out.”

“Jesus Christ this was not part of the plan!”

“And I didn’t want to be a part of the plan from the start! You forced me into it! I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“It will work. It still can work! We're still doing this whether you like it or not. I’ll see you at Steve’s tomorrow. Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime!”

“Dust-!”

Dustin slammed the phone back down onto the cradle, stomping back off to his room, ignoring his mother’s calls after him.

“Guys,” he said, snatching his walkie up from the floor. “Things just got so much worse. We need to come up with a new plan before tomorrow.”

Steve didn't seem too suspicious when Dustin called him to let him know the Party didn’t need a ride to his house for the get together, they’d bike. They needed time to get their plan straight anyway.

All of that was thrown out of the window, however when they pulled up to the Harrington home and heard shouting coming from inside. They all shared a nervous glance with each other, easily recognising the voices as coming from Steve and Eddie.

"-can't believe you would do this to me!" Steve yelled, standing on the opposite side of the living room to Eddie who had his arm draped over Nancy's shoulders. Robin was sitting on the couch between them, unusually subdued with a lollipop in her mouth, her eyes ping ponging between them like she was watching a tennis match.

"Steve, please! I thought you'd be happy for me!" Eddie shouted back, waving his free arm around.

"Happy for you? How could I be happy for you when you're stealing Nancy away from me!"

Nancy gave a little frown but didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry Steve but-”

“You’re supposed to be my friend Eddie!” Steve's voice pitched high like a whining dog and he sniffled… loudly.

“I am your friend! But you can’t expect me to ignore the pull of true love!”

Nancy turned her head to look at him. “True love?” She asked, her tone flat.

“That’s right. True love, shnookums, my precious little rainbow cupcake.” Eddie booped her on the nose and she looked like she was fighting hard not to punch him.

Dustin was horrified. How could everything have gone so wrong?

“This is a complete betrayal! I don’t know if I can ever look at you the same way again, either of you! In fact, I don’t think I can look at you anymore at all!” Steve’s voice was wavering as turned his back on them, facing Robin with his arms crossed who stared at him wide eyed, biting into her lollipop. 

“I don’t think there’s anything more I can say to you two. I never want to speak to you again! I never want to see you again!” Steve cried, throwing one hand over his eyes and holding the other out as if to push them away. “Go on, run away together and leave me behind! I wash my hands of you two.”

“That’s too bad Steve, I’m sorry this is goodbye forever, never to see each other again, never to interact or even ask the kids about one another in passing. This is truly a terrible, irreparable breaking of the Fellowship, never to be fixed!”

Jesus they were both laying it on thick, rubbing as much salt in the wound as possible, probably hurting each other terribly in the process. How had it come to this? Was their found family really going to be so broken forever? Dustin didn’t know if he could stomach it.

“Eddie.” Dustin breathed as he and Nancy turned to face them, apparently completely unsurprised to find the Party standing in the doorway. “What have you done?”

“What have I done? I did nothing but follow my heart, struck down by Cupid's arrow! What have you done, Dustin? You started this.”

“This wasn’t the plan, Eddie! This wasn’t the plan!”

Steve turned back around, his face suspiciously dry but Dustin was too far gone to notice.

“You were only supposed to make Steve jealous!” His voice was rising into a shout. “Not fall in love! You were never supposed to seriously flirt with Nancy and I told you not to ask her out! This whole thing was to get Steve and Nancy back together!”

“What plan? What whole thing?” Steve had walked over from his far corner of the room, planting himself down right next to Eddie with his hands on his hips and a stern look in his eye.

Dustin floundered, opening and closing his mouth. “The- we- there was a plan…” he took a deep breath. Well it was all completely fucked anyway, what was the point in keeping it quiet? “The plan was to get you and Nancy back together.”

"Behind our backs?" Steve prompted, not moving. He kept his hands on his hips and kept that hard look in his eyes, waiting for Dustin to continue. 

“You haven’t gone on a date in ages, Steve! And you and Nancy were so good together-”

“No we weren’t.” Steve and Nancy cut him off in unison.

“But- it’s- you two are meant to be together! Do the whole white picket fence and babies thing! You just needed a push so I said I’d give you that push!”

"You certainly 'pushed' enough, Dustin." Nancy said, unwinding Eddie's arm from around her shoulders. They were barely even touching now as if some kind of act had been dropped. As if-

"Wait."

"Personally, I think I pulled off 'straight' rather well." Eddie grinned, the picture of smug pride.

"Wait. But this… this was all an act?! But you…” He pointed between Steve and Nancy.

“Listen to me very carefully, Henderson.” Steve raised his hands and began using sign language exaggeratedly along with his speech as though to really punctuate his statement. “I. Don’t want to. Be with. Nancy. Nancy. Does not want to. Be with. Me. Your plan would have never worked-”

But Dustin just couldn’t let this go. He’d been so sure.

“It would have! It would have worked! There were just some,” he gestured in Eddie’s direction, “variables we didn’t think to factor in.”

“There were a lot of variables you didn’t think to factor in. Some of the biggest being how I would feel about this whole thing!" Steve said, jabbing himself in the chest. "Or Nancy! Or Eddie! You just ploughed through without any consideration for our own emotional investments. Did you ever once stop to think why? Did you ever think there was a reason why I’ve refused every time you’ve been bugging me about pursuing Nancy again? Or Robin? Or anyone else? No, you didn’t. You just assumed I wouldn’t know what was best for me or that I wasn’t smart enough to be making my own decisions. That I don’t know my own mind as well as you do.”

Dustin winced. He knew it was a sensitive topic for Steve, people always assuming he was stupid because he couldn’t read quickly or had difficulty hearing. But that’s not what he’d done! That’s not how he’d intended it!

“That’s not-”

“Yes it is. That’s exactly what it is. I’m very familiar with it, I’ve been listening to it my whole life. People making decisions for me about school or sports or whatever because I couldn’t possibly be able to figure it out on my own? I used to see it all the time, I know what it looks like. You ignored every sign, every way this thing could have and would have gone wrong. And because you refused to consider any of these factors you could have blown up some of my most cherished friendships forever! No coming back from it. Permanently damaged. Do you have any idea what that would do to me? To us? We are not your fucking playthings to mess around with, Dustin!"

Panic was starting to settle deep in Dustin’s chest now. He needed backup, he needed something, someone, it wasn’t malicious it was just… he was just trying to help!

“Eddie?”

“Don’t look at me, I am not on your side here, Henderson. I told you how this would end when you first approached me and you wouldn’t listen.”

“But you were bluffing! There’s no way you could have known he wouldn’t want this! You don’t know Steve that well.”

“What happened to 'you're a friend his own age', huh? You’re still assuming you know everything without a complete picture. There’s a glaring puzzle piece you’re missing out on because, and I’m sorry I have to say this, you don’t look at things objectively like a scientist should. You let your emotions run you and again refuse to see past the end of your own nose.”

Dustin crossed his arms, unable to look any of them in the eye. If he had missed something it couldn’t have been something that obvious. He just needed to find out what it was.

“What could I possibly be missing?” He grumbled.

“Oh no, you don’t get to bully that information out of us." Eddie said. "If you were meant to know, then you’d know. But you don’t get to decide what secrets people do or don’t tell you. Part of being a grown up is understanding that.”

“But why… why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?”

“This. This is why, Dustin." Steve answered, running a hand through his hair. "Because you meddle. For months we’ve been telling you not to, but you don’t listen. You’ve made us feel like we have to keep things secret from you because what if you decided this secret thing is a bad thing, even though it makes the people involved happy? If you decide it’s bad or not the best course of action, you might have decided again that you know best and try to break it. Don’t even try to deny it, Dustin, you know it’s the truth.”

“But… but if you’d just told me it makes you happy-”

“You mean like how I told you I was happy where I was now and didn’t need Nancy back in my life romantically? That I was happy with how all my relationships are now?" Steve sighed, shaking his head. "You still tried to fuck with it, Dustin. You still tried to fuck with a good thing because you think you know better.”

“The both of us went to you separately and made it crystal clear that we were happy with things the way they were." Nancy said. "We’d agreed that if you backed off, we’d back off too. But you didn’t. You could’ve destroyed our friendships, destroyed our relationships, destroyed each of us mentally and emotionally. You just kept pushing. You want to be treated like a grownup? Well congrats, you got what you wished for. Consequences. No sugar coating. Grown up consequences. Just like you wanted.”

“But what about the others? They were involved too!”

“And they’ll get their punishment. But we all know you were the ringleader.” Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, unmoving.

“So that’s it? You’re happy being single? Really?” Dustin knew he was pushing. He knew he should have really kept that last comment inside, he really should have. 

Because Steve had been irritated, pissed off and upset. But now he was angry. Honestly and truly angry and Dustin didn’t think until this moment that it had ever been directed at him before.

It was a soft anger, simmering and cold and disappointed.

“You still don’t get it.”

Steve was looking at him and underneath the anger and disappointment there was also a streak of heartbreak that Dustin didn’t know what the fuck to do with.

Everyone else was looking at him now, Eddie and Robin were like marble pillars, bracketing Steve at either side with a stern look on their face, Nancy was glaring down at him and all of his friends behind him had wilted.

He was the only one left standing proud and a horrible, terrible part of his brain was saying to him that if everyone in a room was telling him he was wrong, maybe… maybe he hadn’t been as right as he was sure he had been.

“But I-” Dustin stuttered. He… he hadn’t set out to hurt Steve. He would never… “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

“Dustin.” That was Nancy, circling around him now until she came to a stop in front of him. “I think it’s time for you to go. All of you.”

“But-”

“If you refuse to leave, it will become trespassing.”

Trespassing? What, was Steve going to call the fucking police on him or something? But a glance back at Steve’s face, resigned and hurt and angry told him that maybe he couldn’t exactly hash everything out right now. 

He’d just have to wait for everyone to calm down and then they could work this out. 

They could work this all out, right?

“I mean, how could it all have gone so wrong?”

They were all sitting in Will's room, the whole Party in a circle on the floor. Dustin was… confused.

He was angry. He was hurt. He was… so upset. And all with himself because… well because he had hurt Steve. Had been hurting Steve for long enough that Steve felt like he had to hide things from him.

He made Steve feel like he couldn’t talk to him, tell him about this good thing in his life because he thought Dustin might fuck with it?

And yeah, Steve hid shit from them all the time.

His rocky recovery after the Upside-Down, both mentally and physically. The amount of times he had to fight off infection from the road-rash on his back and arms. The nightmares. The panic attacks. The concussions. The hearing loss.

But all those things Steve hid from them because he didn’t want them to worry, he didn’t want to burden them with their problems. 

He’d never hidden something from them, from Dustin because he was happy. 

Whatever this thing was, it apparently made Steve really, really happy and Dustin never knew. Because Steve had been afraid that if he told Dustin and Dustin didn’t like it for whatever reason, he’d try to take it away, try to meddle.

God, he was starting to hate that word. 

Meddle.

It felt so fucking childish. 

"It was never gonna go right." Max muttered from in between Lucas and El.

And Dustin didn’t know why it was that that did it, that quiet and slightly accusatory comment from Max who rarely pulled her verbal punches that caused the first tear to spill free.

And they just kept coming. His vision was blurring and there was a terrible lump in his throat, forcing its way out.

The first sob that broke through sent a ripple throughout the group, plunging them into silence and Dustin could feel them all staring. 

The next second he was set upon, everyone coming close to get their arms around him or hands on him, to comfort him even though he didn’t feel like he deserved any of it. 

“What did I do?” He blubbered. He wasn’t even sure who’s shirt he was crying into. “What do I do? Steve didn’t tell me, he won’t tell me b- because he thinks I’ll try to take it away. Wh- what do I do?”

“Dustin.” Oh, that was Lucas. He was destroying Lucas’ shirt. “Do you understand why what you did was so fucked up? I’m not asking to punish you more, but you can’t fix it until you understand what was broken. It’s science.”

Science.

Yeah, okay. He could understand that.

Can’t just smash pieces back together. You gotta examine them.

“I- I ignored all the times they told me to leave it alone?” 

Lucas nodded. “Yeah. Anything else?”

Someone was running a hand up and down his back and someone else had both his hands in a firm grip.

“I… I kept pushing. After they told me to stop. Af- after they told me they were happy. Because I thought… I thought, how could they be happy? I wouldn’t be happy in their position, so they must not be happy. And everything with Steve… trying to push Robin or Nancy towards him because… because he’s supposed to be with someone, right? And they’re his friends so why wouldn’t he want one of them?”

“Same reason you wouldn’t want me.” Max said. “Or El.”

“I did want you once.” Dustin mumbled. There was no point trying to deny the past. Not at this stage.

“And Steve wanted Robin once. But they’ve always been just friends.” One of the hands in his squeezed, and that was probably Max. “Could you imagine someone trying to force the two of us together now? After everything we’ve figured out between us?”

“B-but that’s different. You’re with Lucas.”

“So? What if I wasn’t and someone was still trying to push us together? Or what if we had to hide our relationship because of small minded idiots and we couldn’t say why you and I wouldn’t work out, we just had to hope someone would take our word for it. And then what if they didn’t and just kept pushing?”

Dustin hummed, a weak and shaky thing but he could see her point. It would be fucking torture to try to deal with all of that and to not be able to say anything about it. 

What a terrible hypothetical. 

“I…” He sniffled, trying not to wipe his nose off on Lucas’ shirt. “I need to apologise. I need… I need to talk to him.”

There was a tap on his shoulder and he glanced up to see Will holding out some tissues.

He took it with a watery smile. 

“We’ll help you figure it out.”

Part 2 AO3

@augustjustice

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation and @hairstevington for her help with the ASL section. 😘

[kamotecue]

i’ve been missing your strawberry kisses ✰ s. catley

pairing: steph catley x reader

summary: the song strawberry kisses isn’t the only thing the australian captain is obsessed with.

you were held up in the hospital, being a general surgeon you would be occupied with surgeries. but it meant that you wouldn’t be able to fly out to australia to support your lover and her team at the world cup.

the sleepless nights you would have, the night shifts that you were desperate to at least get a few hours of sleep but was unable to. but you were thankful—that the hospital gave you some time off of work.

it was needed as they had notice your exhaustion. but as you entered the shared apartment, you quietly hummed to yourself. the scrubs you wore were clean, as you headed to the bedroom, looking through the closet for a certain pair of clothing.

“she wouldn’t mind if i wear this right?” you asked yourself, as you shrugged. steph loved it when you wore her jersey’s whether it was an old one or a recent match worn jersey. it suited you well, future mrs. catley as everyone would tease.

the chain that had a ring was worn around your neck—you’d always hide it underneath your clothing. as you valued privacy, and you didn’t fancy your co-workers asking about it.

as you changed into a pair of shorts, and one of her matilda jersey—you settled yourself into the bed, preparing for a deep slumber. you didn’t know how long you were sleeping, but when you had woken up—you felt a bit parched.

with a small stretch you made your way to the kitchen, only to be pulled into a tight hug. it was steph, you gave her a soft yet sleepy smile as she hummed.

“my pretty girl.” steph said, as you chuckled.

“how was the world cup, love?” you watched as she gave you a small smile.

“it was great, we weren’t able to grab the bronze medal though.” steph commented as you gave her a kiss on her cheek.

“but you did well throughout the tournament, the whole team did.” you had watched the games through fifa+ and you were proud of her team, as well as your lover.

“that we did.” steph said, as she looked at your lips only for you to be staring at hers—she had unconsciously licked hers.

she closed the distance, as she swiftly captured your lips—it definitely made you feel a bit weak in the knees as you had missed her. despite having a shared apartment, the late night shifts made you miss her a lot more.

it definitely left you buzzing, but her hands rested on your hips, pulling you a bit closer. when she pulled away, she had hummed in satisfaction.

“i’ve been missing your strawberry kisses, cause nothing’s as sweet.” steph teased, as you jokingly pushed her away—but she just pulled you closer, in a tight yet secured hug.

the strawberry chapstick that you’d always use was one of her favorites, it would always make you laugh when she’d sing strawberry kisses.

“love you, darlin.” steph said, as you said those three words back.

[spiderfreedom]

“No woman could have been Nietzsche or Rimbaud without ending up in a whorehouse or lobotomized.” - Dworkin

Ok but this is such a raw quote. Think about it seriously. What woman would have been allowed to ignore household chores to focus on learning and writing? What woman would have been allowed to be acerbic and controversial?

Women were paid so poorly for their work that being a spinster meant being destitute. You can’t publish your great masterpiece if you spend most of your day working and the rest barely hanging on with the misery you’re paid.

The high paying professions are closed to you. Higher education was closed to you. You could become a prostitute, and historically prostitutes for the upper class have access to more education in order to entertain wealthy man. But most prostitutes don’t serve the upper class and are subject to the same poverty as the working spinster. Even the courtesan who dared to publicly exist risked the wrath of men, because men loathe prostitutes going “outside their place.”

So you marry, and to marry you need to stamp down all your intellectual traits. You must preoccupy yourself with menial labor. You must flatter mens egos. You must have and rear children. There is no time to write or think, and your husband may destroy your work if you do.

A very small number of women (usually from upper class families) managed to write and think, against all odds. But they had to be born to good class and have very supportive family, and either avoid marriage or have a very supportive husband. In other words, the equivalent of winning successive lotteries.

If you were too out of control, you could be committed to a madhouse, or lobotimized, or drugged into submission.

The path successful women thinkers had to walk was extremely narrow; and the cliffs led to poverty, disease, abuse, death, servitude. We’ve only recently succeeded in broadening that path, thanks to the ceaseless work of women pioneers in the 19th and 20th centuries that broke legal and social chains. And there are more chains to break yet. Too many great thinkers are doubtless still being lost by virtue of their sex, race, class, disability, country, etc.

Don’t forget what we’ve lost. Keep fighting. We can make the narrow path into a supportive field.

[kissitbttr]

a sweet moment of frat!miguel and muñeca that we rarely get to see

to miguel, relationships are complex.

he’s not built for one and never meant to. the idea of having to commit to one person when he still wants to have fun sounds like a real torture. the constant clinging and demands of going out on dates just enough to make him scowl. like what’s the point of it all? spending money on gifts or valentines dates just seem to be a waste of time.

until she entered the picture. gone were the days where his money were spent on booze and gears.

now, he’s having the ultimate pleasure of spoiling his girlfriend, walking her to classes, stay during cheerleading practice and begging her to stay over at the frat house. all that he did out of consciousness,

even curating the image of what their wedding would look like in the future.

yeah. that much.

the couple decides to have a small picnic at the campus park during their free period. whereas the rest of the students are busy with studying and walking from building to building, these two lovers find the spare time to be with each other.

“i love hibiscus flowers. they’re pretty” muñeca mentions, laying on her side with palm supporting the head. “sunflowers too—much better than a rose”

miguel fixes himself a smile upon his beautiful girlfriend, deciding to mirror her action by laying on his side as well. “how abouut cake flavor, cariño?”

she looks over at him and the sight is making her drool. the shirt that he’s sporting compliments his rippling muscles, not to mention the few unbuttons at the top showcasing a bit of his chest hair and gold chain around the neck.

“are you going somewhere with this?” she questions with a smile, seeing him shrug,

“just asking” he replies, eyes staring intently into hers. “i want to know what my girl likes—because if she mentions vanilla then i’m out”

muñeca giggles, head shaking at the ridiculous assumption. “i would never!” miguel grins even wider hearing the sound of that laugh. “i love red velvet—and anything fruit infused desserts”

he nods, making a mental note on that one. “what if I prefer chocolates?”

“then we can have both” she answers casually, hand sneaking through its way towards the slope of his calloused one. “chocolates and raspberries are good combo, anyway—not white or milk chocolates though. dark is the way”

“that’s my girl” miguel praises, his thumb drawing circles around her skin. “i love this dress on you, by the way—wear it often”

“you say that pretty much about everything i wear miggy!” she smiles, kissing his jaw. “you’re biased”

“is it my fault that my girlfriend looks good in everything?” he asks as if he’s proving his innocence, tightening the hold of his hand around hers, “got the prettiest girl on campus by my side and there’s no way i’m missing the chance to let her know how hot she is”

her cheeks warm at the compliment, looking down momentarily to hide the large grin that’s threatening to break through, “you just want to fuck me” it’s a joke,

“is it working?” he jokes back with a raised eyebrow, earning himself a punch on the shoulder making him grunt and laugh, “caray, ma!—you sure got some strength in you”

“thanks to my handsome linebacker’s workout routine” she winks, curling a loose hair around his forehead,

“put me in a headlock next, i beg of you” he says, and she can’t tell if he’s really joking or serious but she wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter,

“ugh! you’re so unserious sometimes!”

they both share a laugh after. “okay back to question number—five!” he picks a chocolate covered strawberry with his free hand off the plate and pop it in his mouth. “dream destination?”

her lips curl into a thinking mode and so are her eyebrows, clutching their interlocked hand against her chest. “hmm—bali, malaysia, and rome”

miguel hums, nodding as he looks down. she tilts her head to the side with confusion written all over her face, watching him. “what is this, intervention?”

“what, no. can’t a guy ask his girl a few things to get to know her better?”

“miggy, we fuck at least three times a day, i think we already went past that kind of formalities” she rolls her eyes playfully, seeing how he shrugs innocently and grin. “so? what is this about? first it was about my favorite decorations, second it’s about my favorite dish and drinks of choice and then third, and fourth—“ she trails off, watching the shy smile on his face appears as he avoids her gaze,

“what?” she asks confused, yet his smile is contagious and that makes her smile too,

“just thinking about how everything would look like for our wedding someday”

“a wedding?”

“y-yeah” he scratches the back of his neck nervously, “i’m making notes, you know? i trust them all with you, muñeca—want you to handle everything”

her heart somehow blooms in her chest, gaze softening when he mentions about marriage. tying a knot. living happily ever after. with her.

she feels the little girl inside of her is squealing at the thought of a prince charming asking her for a hand. like ones she read on fairy tales and bedtime stories.

he wants to marry her

upon hearing no response, he feels the embarrassment creeping in as he gulps, his hand trembling slightly at the thought of being rejected. he would probably cry if she told him that she doesn’t see the future together.

“look you don’t—“

“baby” she coos, her hand moving to cup his face. “you want to marry me?”

he feels somehow at ease when he hears the tone of her voice, realizing that he may not look like an eager idiot whom he thought he’d be in front of her, “i do” his response is firm and set. “do you?”

the way he’s looking at her with hopeful eyes makes her wish that they’re both alone right now, just so she could straddle his lap and smother him with kisses. but seeing that they’re not and at a public space, especially on campus, she’s holding herself back.

instead of that, she cups his face before leaning in for a kiss. miguel sighs into her mouth, kissing her back with much more passion as he snakes a hand around her waist. the kiss is somehow becoming more intense and hungry. he then moves himself to move on top of her in swift motion, making her giggle at his enthusiasm.

what’s supposed to be a simple kiss, turns into a heavy makeout session. she squeezes both his shoulders as a gesture to take it easy, not wanting the head of security to catch them in the act. again.

miguel huffs when she pulls away, but the taste of her lips remains to be the reason why a lovesick smile attached on his features.

“of course i do” she replies, “just make sure that the ring is ready after we graduate, o’hara” and miguel will hold onto that. he will buy the most expensive and prettiest ring ever for her.

she swears that the love she has for him is bigger than anything. he had changed a lot for the better and she couldn’t be more proud. miguel had learned so many things during the times he had shared with her, and it would be so crazy to think that she didn’t bring any positive impact in his life.

her existence is the key of him growing. not just love but as a person as well. and he would argue to hell and back with anyone just to prove the point of his gratitude to her will always be bigger than this girl,

none of these two lovers knew what fate had in stored for them. to have a committed relationship with someone wasn’t in either’s bucket list, let alone getting married. but everything seems to have changed.

before this, they didn’t even know each other. there had been a time where miguel didn’t know muñeca exist and vice versa. and there’s some sort of twinge rattle in his chest, knowing that someone else could be loving her instead of him.

he doesn’t like that. at all.

the negative thought that plagued into his mind somehow gets pulled when he feels her soft padded thumb traces his lower lip. his pupils dilating when he looks at her, with the pretty smile that he never gets tired of. seeing that often makes his heart fail to find a steady rhythm.

gaze in her eyes speaks so kindly to him. a look in which helps to remind him that she belongs to him and so does he to her. and miguel finds himself exhale a breath of relief yet once again.

‘she is so unbelievably gorgeous and all mine’