#anyways just wanted to clear that up since I didn’t really elaborate & don’t want it to be taken like that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyunsvngs · 9 months

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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˚

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ladylannisterxo · 2 years

Text

A Little Bit Closer

Pairings; Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Words; 3.7k

Warnings; S M U T (18+ only), smoking, established friendship, friends to lovers, fingering, dirty talk, oral (m!receiving), outdoor sex, mutual pining, fluff, just idiots in love having intense sex, okay?

Summary; Maybe it's your bruised heart. Maybe it's the booze and the intimate sharing of his cigarette. Maybe it's the heat radiating off of his body and the sensual feeling of his mouth kissing, licking, sucking, biting against your skin. Whatever the reason, Steve is now a little bit closer... and you have no intention of letting go.

A/N; Oooof okay, I haven't written anything in a hot minute (since like, 2019 ??) but ST4 got me back on my bullshit so here we are! And real talk, this came to me in a dream but I just call that the power of Steve Harrington lol ;)

{ masterlist }

“He didn’t deserve you anyway,” he says, seemingly out of nowhere, voice muffled thanks to the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

You turn your gaze in his direction waiting for him to elaborate. His brow is furrowed in deep concentration as he flicks his Zippo lighter over and over and over again trying to capture that spark. You let your eyes wander over the expanse of his profile while you wait—from his tousled brown hair down to his biceps and then further down to his legs that stretch on for days. The two of you have been lounging by his pool for the better part of an hour and he’s illuminated in a shade of hazy blue that has you pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

You’re not sure when you began allowing yourself to ogle Steve Harrington but, as of late, you find yourself laser focused on specific parts of him—like his big brown doe eyes that always sparkle when he sees you or his fingers as they tighten around the steering wheel or the bulge in those goddamn Levi’s that are always so sinfully tight.

Maybe it’s your recently bruised heart. Maybe it’s the booze the two of you have been sharing. Or maybe it’s the steady click, click, click of his lighter that is pulling you into a hypnotic state, clouding your mind and better judgment.

“Here,” you say, pulling yourself up and crossing over to sit on the edge of his lounge chair right by his hip. “Let me.”

You take the lighter, ignoring the thrill that shoots through you when his fingers brush against yours. With a couple rather aggressive flicks of your own, a flame finally erupts and dances between the two of you. You hold the lighter out for him steadily and he leans forward, eyes trained on your face, as he lights the end of his cigarette. He inhales sharply and then tilts his head back against the lounge chair, blowing the smoke back out into the open air.

Flicking the lighter closed, you avert your eyes and clear your throat. “What was it you were saying?”

“That asshole that broke your heart, he didn’t deserve you anyway.” He taps the end of the cigarette letting the ash fall unceremoniously by your feet. “Fuck that guy.”

You keep your eyes trained on the ground, watching the discarded ash billow in the wind. You don’t trust yourself to make eye contact. “It’s fine, Steve. Shit happens.”

David, or that asshole as Steve so eloquently put it, was… fine, if you were being totally honest. The short lived romance that blossomed between the two of you wasn’t groundbreaking by any stretch of the word; it was simply fine. He had cracked a joke in Biology one day and you had laughed despite yourself. He then asked you out to a movie and you said yes… again, despite yourself. It wasn’t as if you had been scrawling his name in the margins of your notebooks or watching him from afar, hoping he would notice you. No, it was more like a… distraction. That thought alone sends a sharp pang straight to your heart. Because you know why you said yes to the movie date and then yes to the dinner date and then yes to the drive up to Lover’s Lake; it’s because who you really, truly, actually wanted to notice you and kiss you and take you out on a date was always someone else’s boyfriend.

So when you discovered David after school crowding Janine against his car, nose nuzzling her cheek as he whispered God knows what into her ear, you didn’t particularly care. You didn’t even confront him, just walked over to your car and peeled out of the parking lot with her high pitched giggles fading into nothing. You had driven straight to Steve’s house and found him already lounging by the pool; dropping into the opposite chair, you word vomited your tragic love affair woes all over him. He took it like a champ, you’ll give him that.

“It really doesn’t matter,” you say after a moment. “I’m not even sure I liked him all that much.”

“Then why date him at all?”

You shrug. “Something to do?”

You trail your gaze back up to find him already staring at you, a curious expression etched across his handsome features. Your breath stills in your lungs and after a moment, he holds his cigarette out towards you. Reaching out to take it, he pulls his hand back just out of reach and then slowly brings it back closer to your lips. Oh. You feel a flush beginning to bloom up your neck as you wrap your lips around the end and inhale deeply. His hooded gaze flits down to your lips and then back up while a subtle smirk adorns his face as he brings the cigarette back to his own mouth to finish it off. You ignore the way this makes you feel, you always ignore the way Steve Harrington makes you feel.

Steve stubbs the cigarette out in the ashtray next to him and then absentmindedly reaches out to twist a strand of your hair around his finger. You’re not sure what exactly is happening or why but damn if you’re going to stop him. Your breath hitches and you can feel your heart racing in your chest. Does he know what he’s doing? There’s no way he’s drunk.

“What an idiot,” he whispers, more to himself.

You breathe out a soft laugh. “Lots of guys are idiots.”

“Yeah.” He unravels the strand of hair from around his finger and then trails his hand up the curve of your jaw before pulling softly at your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Steve?” His gentle ministrations make you shiver. You’ll blame it on the wind if you have to.

He licks his lips and leans forward capturing your own in a soft kiss. Your eyes go wide and for a solid second, you’re too stunned to reciprocate. Not wanting him to pull away, you twist your fingers into the soft material of his sweater and open your mouth just a little wider, letting your tongue drag against his own. He tastes like beer and cigarettes and while that would normally be a gross combination, you refuse to let whatever this is come to an end.

He leans forward a little more, wrapping one arm around the small of your back and letting the other drop to rest lightly on your thigh. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw and then down to the curve of your neck; his teeth graze against your pulse point and your fingers curl around his biceps. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head to the side, granting him all the access he could possibly want.

You’re not certain what gives you the insane idea to be so brazen. Maybe it was the booze or the intimate sharing of his cigarette or, fuck it all, maybe it’s the heat radiating off of his body and the sensual feeling of his mouth kissing, licking, sucking, biting against your skin. You grasp his hand resting on your thigh and push it up underneath your skirt, pressing his fingers against the fabric of your panties.

Steve’s lips still instantly and you freeze, silently cursing yourself for going too far too fast. He looks down between the two of you to where his hand has disappeared and then you hear him chuckle softly. His lips drag tortuously slow up your neck, his breath hot against your ear as he untangles your fingers from his sweater and brings them down to cup him through the fabric of his jeans. He’s hard, so hard and it’s all because of you. You can’t help yourself when a satisfied smirk finds its way onto your face.

“Glad to see we’re on the same page,” he mumbles and then the smirk instantly disappears from your face as you bite down sharply on your bottom lip to stifle a moan when he pushes your panties to the side and slides two fingers through your slick folds.

He resumes his ministrations and you’re pretty sure with the way he’s attacking your neck, you’re bound to have a tell all mark adoring your skin later. His fingers slide gingerly between your folds, up to rub delicately against your clit and then back down to prod at your entrance.

“Steve, please,” you whimper, rolling your hips against his fingers and massaging his clothed cock just a little harder, hoping that he takes the fucking hint.

You’re about ready to beg again��you’re not above it, who are you kidding?—when without warning, he slides those same two fingers deep into your dripping pussy. You arch into him as a long and rather lewd moan falls from your lips. It’s at this moment you realize that you’re surprisingly grateful for Steve’s wealthy background; his home sits right smack in the middle of pleasantville suburbia but the families in this community are just rich enough where there’s a lot of space between his house and the next. Not like other communities in Hawkins where you take two steps out the front door and you’re suddenly trespassing on your neighbor’s property.

No, you are very grateful that no one is able to hear you because Steve has taken your moans as an invitation to finger fuck you faster and harder and deeper to relinquish every loud, highpitched whine and moan that you can possibly give him.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” He asks, breath hot against your skin and voice like gravel. “Fuck, I want you.”

You shove him, rather abruptly, and his entire body is removed from your space as his back hits the lounge chair. He stares at you wide-eyed and confused. You take the opportunity to straddle his hips and then your hands are working quickly to free him from the confines of his tight as hell jeans. Your eyes flit up to his face quickly and he’s no longer unsure of what just happened; he’s watching your fingers with rapt attention as he fumbles around in his wallet for a condom.

When you finally manage to get his belt unbuckled and his jeans unfastened, you waste no time in pulling his hardened cock free and slowly stroking it from base to tip. Steve sighs at the contact, a soft fuck falling from his lips as he finally locates a condom and tosses his wallet to the ground. It bounces twice across the cement and lands precariously close to the edge of the pool—Steve doesn’t pay it a second glance.

He drops his head back against the lounge chair, a soft moan slipping past his lips as you work your fingers over his cock. You’re no blushing virgin but you find yourself jittery all over, hoping that he can’t feel the slight tremor in your hand. You brush your thumb across the slit, swiping at the precum pooling and using it to slather across his length. Moving your fingers deftly, you tighten and twist your grip, watching as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and screws his eyes shut. You’re contemplating the idea of taking him into your mouth when his hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist.

“God, fuck, you keep that up and this is gonna be over,” he pants, eyes wild and hair in complete disarray.

You release his cock and he immediately pulls the condom from its wrapper and rolls it onto himself and then… nothing. You both simultaneously freeze as if the weight of what’s about to happen runs you down like a freight train.

“We don-,” he starts suddenly, “I thou-, I didn’t mean-, I’m sorry.”

“No, I- it’s just…,” you trail off, biting your lip and slowly meeting his gaze. I just never thought this would be happening between us. “I do want to.”

He nods, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. You’re pretty sure he can read your mind, he’s always been good at that. “Yeah, me too.”

He hesitates for only a split second more and then he’s surging forward, capturing your lips in another heated kiss. Grasping his cock in hand, you give it another couple languid, teasing strokes before positioning yourself over him and sinking down, letting him fill you inch by aching inch. You gasp at the sensation and Steve pulls you closer until you’re both chest to chest. One hand rests on your hip while the other lands on the swell of your ass. You tangle your own in the ends of his hair, tugging softly and eliciting an immediate groan from him, and then you begin rolling your hips, rising up and dropping back down, taking him as deeply as your body will allow.

With each roll of your hips, he begins thrusting up to meet you halfway and the feeling punches the air straight from your lungs. His fingers knead the flesh of your skin and you throw your head back when his cock begins rubbing against that sweet spot over and over and over again. Your fingers tighten in his hair and he thrusts harder, stealing your breath and short-circuiting your brain.

“Steve, fuck,” you whine, “it feels so good, please touch me.”

His lips latch onto the curve of your jaw and the hand that had been resting on the swell of your ass slowly slips down until you can feel a single finger pressing against your hole. Your hips stutter at the unexpected sensation and you slow your movements, turning your gaze down to meet his own.

You brush the strands of hair clinging to his face out of his eyes and rest your forehead against his own. He stares back at you with a questioning look, waiting for you to decide what happens next. You know without a doubt in your mind that Steve would stop if you said you weren’t into it so you kiss him softly, bringing his bottom lip between your teeth and biting against the sensitive skin. He groans and you smile victoriously.

You pull back, brushing your thumb across his bottom lip, soothing the bite as you whisper, “you can if you want to.”

Then you’re pulling him back in for another deep and sloppy kiss, one that is all teeth and tongue as that single finger pushes all the way in until you can feel his knuckle at the curve of your ass. You grind your hips down, mewling at the sensation of being so full.

“More,” you whimper.

Gingerly, you feel a second finger slowly enter alongside the first and you’re pretty sure that Steve fucking Harrington is going to be the death of you. He has timed the thrust of his fingers with the thrust of his cock so each time you lift and drop back down, you are taking him as fully and as deeply as you possibly can. The familiar feeling of your approaching orgasm begins twisting and coiling inside you and you move your hips faster wanting to cum, wanting desperately for Steve to make you cum.

“I want to cum,” you beg, leaning down to trace your tongue against the shell of his ear. “Please Steve, make me cum.”

“Fuck,” he grits out, pistoning his hips and fingers faster to meet you thrust for thrust.

It feels as if the wind has died down and the evening is so much quieter than you originally thought. The lounge chair scrapes roughly against the cement and the sound of skin slapping against skin creates an obscene cacophony of sound that melds perfectly with each of your gratuitous loud and downright lewd moans.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, “yes, yes, yes, fuck, Steve!”

And then you’re cumming fast and hard, shaking like a leaf in his hold. He fucks you through it, of course he does. Never stopping, never slowing down—he continues his quick and brutal thrusts until it all becomes so overwhelming that you start to pull yourself off his fingers and his cock.

His cock is still fully hard when he slips out of you and he, again, watches you with wide eyes as you drop yourself rather ungracefully down on your knees next to the lounge chair. You don’t care in the slightest if the cement cuts into your skin, you want Steve—all of him. You pull the condom off and toss it unceremoniously next to the ashtray.

“I want you in my mouth,” you whisper, lips teasing against his length. “I want you to cum in my mouth.”

“O-okay,” he says, voice broken and on the verge of being completely fucked out.

You waste no time in wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking slowly, taking him little by little with each bob of your head. It’s when you reach the base of his cock and can feel him fully in your throat that Steve twists his fingers in your hair… and holds you in place.

Tears brim your lashes and you breathe deeply through your nose, fighting off the urge to gag when his hips shift slightly and he begins to steadily throat fuck you.

“Goddamn, you’re such a good girl,” he groans, “taking my cock like you were made for it.”

You hum appreciatively, sending a vibration throughout his entire body. He twists his fingers a little tighter in your hair. His grip is painful but you love it. His cock thrusting hard in your throat is a challenge but you take it. You’ll take it and take it and take it if it means you can continue to hear the sounds like the ones he’s making now; whining and groaning, all fucked out and ready to explode.

“I’m about to cum,” he warns, “you sure you want this?”

You hum again and he releases your hair, letting you have the honor of finishing him off the way you want. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, tightening and twisting as you bob your head quickly in anticipation.

“That’s it, fuck, keep going,” he begs, “don’t stop, baby.”

You never had any intention of stopping and the pet name he has sprung on you in the heat of the moment leaves you feeling some type of way; all warm and slightly fuzzy which is an odd feeling to have with his cock in your mouth. You brush those thoughts aside and focus on the task at hand. You bob your head all the way back down, nose brushing against his pubic hair, and on the drag back up, you let your tongue lick against the vein on the underside of his cock. He cums with a jolt and a shit, fuck yeah falling ever so gracefully from his lips.

You work him through his orgasm, swallowing every drop you can milk from him. Swirling your tongue around the head, you lap up any that’s left and pull off of him with a resounding pop. Steve is breathing heavily, laid back with a wide grin on his face. You wipe at your mouth with the sleeve of your sweater and pull yourself back up to sit next to his hip again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“So,” you begin after a moment, not sure why everything is suddenly so awkward. “That was…”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a smile, lighting up another cigarette.

“I guess I should…,” you begin again, throwing your thumb over your shoulder.

“Wait,” he says, eyes snapping up to meet your own, “you’re not, you’re not leaving, are you?”

“Well, I mean… I thou-, I didn’t…,” you stop, exhaling a harsh breath.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says softly, “stay… please.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Let’s go inside, it’s getting chilly anyway. We can watch a movie and, I don’t know, cuddle on the couch… or something,” he says sheepishly, hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“Really, really?”

“Yeah, really, really. Listen, I know we did things pretty backwards just now but I don’t, I don’t want this to be a one time thing, okay?” He tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. “God, you’re so beautiful and I mean, yeah, this was really fun and, sure, I wouldn’t mind doing it again but I also want to take you on a date, like a real date, where I can hold your hand and kiss you and snuggle with you on my couch while we watch stupid movies. So please, baby, please stay.”

You sniff, blinking your eyes rapidly to quell the onslaught of tears threatening to spill over. “You’re my best friend, Steve, and I have always wanted you,” you whisper, granting him an honest, watery smile. “I just never thought-”

“I know,” he cuts you off, “I should have asked you out a long time ago. But I was stupid and I wasted so much time with those other girls when you’ve been right here, the whole time. And I, fuck, no one gets me like you do, baby. So what do you say, wanna take a chance, take a risk, see where this goes with me?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, barely trusting your own voice. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

He smiles wide, a gorgeous Steve Harrington smile that makes your heart melt. Extinguishing his cigarette, he readjusts himself with an embarrassed huff and then twines his fingers with yours, pulling you to your feet. A companionable silence falls between the two of you as you tidy up around the pool, making sure there’s no obvious evidence that his parents might stumble upon.

“So, what stupid movie did you want to watch?” You ask after a moment of silence.

“Something scary,” he says with a suggestive wink.

You laugh softly, shoving playfully at his shoulder. He grabs your hand pulling you towards him; his gaze lingers on your own for a moment before he kisses your forehead then each cheek then finally your lips. You melt into his touch, sighing as his arms wrap tightly around you.

“I don’t care what we watch,” he whispers against your lips, “I just want to hold you.”

You let him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things #writing by 's'

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tlou-reid · 14 days

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spencer!dad with a teen daughter, theyre having an argument (bad grades, behaviour, sassy etc) but in the end she feels bad for her actions and apologises. fluffy/happy ending please <3

the only way to comfort your daughter most of the time was to remind her that spencer was a statistical anomaly.

there was such a small chance of him having such a big, beautiful brain, and it was completely unfair of her to hold herself to the same standards he held himself to. but, she did it anyways. and this caused a lot of tension in the house. especially since she started high school.

claire, your oldest child and only daughter, has been gifted. she was years ahead of her classmates, already taking calculus 1 instead of the algebra her friends were in. but being in these classes came with a lot of work on her part. and you did not mind helping her, but keeping up with the way schools change how they taught or trying to do the hard math she was doing wasn’t going too well.

so, spencer stepped in.

“you’re looking for the derivative here,” spencer spoke, frustrating clear in his voice. “that’s what i just said!” claire exasperated, throwing her arms up and tossing her pencil down the table. “you’re not listening to me!” you could hear the frustration and the hurt in her voice. you wished you could step in, but you knew you’d be no help.

“if you knew that, you shouldn’t have asked for help.” spencer rolled his eyes, growing equally as frustrated. “stop being rude, claire. i’m just trying to help you.” communication had never been spencer’s strong suit.

from your place in the kitchen, you could see the way spencer’s face was getting redder and redder, not liking the way his daughter was talking to him. “hey guys,” you called, quickly hustling around the kitchen to throw together a snack plate, “why don’t we take a break? i have a pre-dinner plate for you guys!” you did your best to cover up the real reason why you were interrupting them. hearing them go back and fourth broke your heart, you knew they didn’t want to argue with each other and it really did upset both of them.

“i gotta get done, mom.” claire deadpanned, once again rolling her eyes. “be kind to your mother.” spencer demanded. “dad!” she shouts, needing spencer to just be quiet.

“claire, go to the living room.” you pushed, shooing her away. they needed space from each other. they were too alike for their own good.

“you didn’t have to do that,” spencer sighs, accepting defeat. “yes, i did, spence. you gotta be nicer when she asks for help.” spencer nods, not really caring for your opinion.

claire had disappeared to her room, working on assignments for other classes. she doesn’t come out until you call everyone down for dinner. she asks her little brother, benny, to switch seats so she could sit next to spencer.

as you’re in the kitchen scooping everyone’s plate, you hear claire talking to her. “dad, i finished the homework.” she says, not elaborating. “yeah, how’d it go?” he smiles at her. the anger he was feeling washed away just as quickly as it came. “yeah, i had mixed up the different variables a few steps up. i had to resolve it like six times.” she explains. “great job, claire bear.” claire smiles.

claire was like her father, never one to apologize despite knowing she was wrong. neither of them would say the words “i’m sorry”, but the way they shared a bowl of chocolate ice cream for dessert was more meaningful anyways.

#i’ve never taken a calc class #hope this makes sense to the math nerds #spencer imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

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ctinalk · 2 months

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Season two isn’t (fully) real, it’s a peaceful, fragile existence

The more I rewatch the show and read different theories, the more convinced I get that S2 is some sort of elaborate dream sequence or a distraction or memory alteration attempt (Neil’s chaotic angsty ineffable husbands fanfic?). But not all of it.

(This gets kind of rambly so if you want my true hook, scroll down to the Michael Sheen Staged gif.)

Let me make this perfectly clear on the outset: I don’t think all of it is a dream, and I certainly don’t think the final 15/kiss is or is going to be discounted (and not only because there would be literal riots in the street, because there absolutely would be, but also I’m putting trust in Neil and the team wholeheartedly). I think that could actually be the domino that brings them out of it. I read somewhere recently something along the lines of “something loved can never be truly forgotten” and I think that fits my theory perfectly. I’m also making no claims (yet) as to what I think is real and what I think is “enhanced”.

Also I apparently am either too far deep or cannot work the tumblr search function with any modicum of usefulness, so please link me to the posts I’m alluding to if you think it’s the right one. I will edit them in and sincerely apologize to the brilliant minds that exist outside the confines of the search function.

Now, On with the show:

You can be in charge of the biscuits

Maggie and Nina: Look, I get that recasts happen, they change the actor playing the character because of scheduling conflicts, etc. But to cast the actor/actress that is immediately recognizable from a prior interaction (whether with the characters or the audience) is not something you see. FFS Maggie DIED in S1, and Nina was pivotal (maybe too strong a word, but enough to be memorable surely) to the storyline. It’s like someone said “Hey, they’ll work, bring em in, no I don’t care that they were in S1. It’ll be a test of how well our facade is working. If they (A&C) notice, then the gig is up and we’ll know it.”

Also why in the world is the owner of a coffee shop offering Eccles cakes to calm down, when camomile tea is right there? (Resists the urge to go off on a tangent on how Eccles cakes were used to celebrate the “Eccles wakes” at the feast of St. Mary (yes that Mary) and how that ties into the second coming plot.) Do Eccles cakes count as biscuits? Ugh another thought for another day I suppose.

It has come to my attention during writing that Shax is the same actress as Madame Tracy. I have less of an affront to this knowledge since I’m 2 months deep and countless rewatches in and only just noticed. But I’m going to pop it in this header anyway. Are you really trying to tell me that a show that apparently has demon entrances happening precisely on the 6s really didn’t think these choices out very deliberately? (Edit 3: https://www.tumblr.com/noneorother/735823422626709504/the-secret-timeline-inside-of-good-omens-season-2 JFC why can I never find the blogs when I want to insert them? It was a breakdown about how all of the demon entrances happen at a 00:00 that ends in a 6.)

Yours very faithfully, Maggie

Text to mail disconnect: There’s been a theory pop up (at the time one writing this at least (edit 2: https://www.tumblr.com/azariah-z-fell/743434274903048192/it-is-extra-weird-because-it-is-on-the-record) that Maggie actually texted Aziraphale her request to talk, and it was magically translated into a physical form, and the spelling error (that so many people are shouting DEMON at) was just an autocorrect typo. But, surely Maggie would know he doesn’t text if she knew him for several years at least. We’ve never seen either of our boys text, only call. Seems like someone doesn’t know how phones work, but wanted to get the message received? See also: currency, below.

You ever think, what’s the point?

Numerous people have pointed out the same obvious background people. There are theories about the guy in the Hawaiian shirt being the second coming or something similar. I wonder if it’s some sort of play on a badly executed attempt to make Wickber Street seem “normal” in an alternate reality, an elaborate distraction, but they have to keep using the same character models because their imagination is just slightly better than Shadwells’ (Oh gfdi how did I miss Mrs. sandwich right there). I’m not saying we haven’t done a “oh oops silly me I forgot something” but that isn’t usually done in the middle of a sidewalk. When Aziraphale is initially talking to Jim with the blanket, there’s a guy just chugging his arms outside the window, not walking. Another one in E3 when Shax show up outside the shop, a guy in an orange sweatshirt passes in the background, then passes again, and not close enough in time/area to just be the continuation of the walk. Especially in the early episodes, there are veritable conveyer belts of people, straight lines, no trying to pass, etc. I’m trying to look at the background in S1 and while there are still tons of people, the background is… livelier. People passing, shoving past, actually going places.

“I’m looking at the statue of Gabriel.” “Oh, good job?”

Aziraphale basically learns fuck-all when he makes the trip to Edinburgh. Granted, I do believe most of that was to make the Bentley “our car”, but so many things are out of character. The no drink, the over-the-top “investigation” (as awkward as he is, Aziraphale knows how to act more normally than that with humans), the background on the drive up there…

All the others were taken (random collective thoughts)

Somehow ALL the businesses on the street are different from Season 1?

A normal person would have moved out of the rain instead of just lolling there letting raid splatter their glasses, yeah? (As a person with glasses I can confirm).

“We have all the hosts of hell searching for him” cue Crowley looking around like then why the fuck are there still demons around me?

The cross disappearing from the Gabriel statue between shots.

“I’m a bit out of miracles” and “that’s not how miracles work” from the guy who got written up for too many frivolous miracles.

I have here a sixpence and a farthing There’s always money in the banana stand

The lack of (accurate?) paid transactions seems like whoever is pulling the strings has no concept of earthly money and how it’s supposed to work, just that it exists. Crowley and Aziraphale talk bluntly about poverty and know that money is needed and used in current society (“Give her the money, Angel”, Rome, Globe Theatre, 1941 magic shop, etc.). Could be a “let’s not get lost in the trivialities” thing but it does strike me as odd. Caveat: Aziraphale forgiving the rent doesn’t quite fit, but cost of the record is obscenely low.

But this does give me hope about the 3rd 1941 flashback, because they were using money accurately there, which hopefully means the flashbacks and memories aren’t being altered, just “present day”.

We’re real people

One of the overarching themes in Season 2 (and S1 now I think of it) is “stop interfering in the lives of other people”. Maggie and Nina, Job, Elspeth, the entire dance party, Warlock, the book of prophecy. It would be a shame if someone were to make sure I failed to be messing about in their own lives.

I had brothers, you don’t scare me

Something happened just before Maggie told them to “Come in here and say that to my face.” Another demonic turn potential here, but also kind of like someone’s saying “FFS get on with the plot”.

The book of love has music in it

This post https://www.tumblr.com/noneorother/731977308306636800/all-the-music-you-didnt-hear-the-good-omens (finally, one I can find!) popped up, and there’s another one that purports to have noticed that there’s music lines missing from the opening sequence (edit 1: Found it!: https://www.tumblr.com/dadesu/726651737165938688/anyone-noticed-the-missing-half-bar-in-good-omens ). Possibly Clueing us in that there’s something that’s missing elsewhere (I mean obviously, that’s the whole point of this season, is it not?).

So where do we go from here?

As much as I’d love to say “Alright so the kiss breaks the spell whoever was put over them because of ✨the power of love✨, the ruse will be revealed, and they’re not talking because they don’t have to”

I don’t know, my thoughts are just the overarching patterns I’ve noticed over many, many rewatches and probably reading a few too many magic trick theories and/or fanfics. I don’t intentionally make my theory posts open-ended, but in the end that’s the fun of it. Nothing has to be mutually exclusive (yes I’m referencing my “Is Crowley already the new Supreme Archangel” post, I think I’m allowed that much). I’m happy to be proven wrong, and probably will be.

Lots of things are wrong right now

But I will leave you with one parting thought: Crowley knows. He knows there’s furniture missing. (That’s why he keeps just tossing things everywhere, because he know it doesn’t matter.)

And he. Does not. Care. For it.

How many theories that I myself hate can I dig into?

I’m a demon, I lied:

#good omens season 2 #good omens #good omens theories #crowley #aziraphale

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deandoesthingstome · 10 months

Text

Walk with Me - Ch 6

Pairing: FBI Agent!Syverson x OFC, Drug Czar!August Walker x OFC

Chapter Summary: Dinner with Francesca and August; plans are revealed.

Chapter Warnings: Light dom/sub behavior, drinking, oral sex (m receiving), implied unprotected p in v sex, fingering, anal sex, implied torture.

Word Count: 3.6K

Masterlist: For full series Summary and Warnings

Spotify Playlist: The last three songs (16-18) now belong to this chapter.

Francesca

I knew August was looking for information. He was more agitated than usual and it was apparent he had an idea now that someone had infiltrated his organization. He began to call on me at the most inopportune moments, and I couldn’t tell if he was hoping or not to catch me in a lie. I did hear him trying desperately to convince Mateo his misgivings about me were wrong. I needed to put a stop to any hint of Sy sniffing around, if only to help prove Matteo wrong. August asked about the FBI when we had dinner at his home one evening.

“I’m glad you were able to get free tonight for me, Francesca.”

“August, you know I always come when you call. I’ve had to shuffle a few things around at the gym lately, and they’re starting to get annoyed, but I guess I can always find another studio if I have to.” I took a sip of the wine August had chosen to pair with our meal, tipping my tongue out to catch a small drop of red, drawing his eyes to my lips.

“You know I don’t mean to cause any hardship for you. I wouldn't want to take you away from anywhere else you’d rather be.”

“Now, where else would I rather be, baby, besides right here with you when you want me?”

“Heard from that old ex of yours lately?” August asked, keeping an even voice and betraying with a raised eyebrow only a small hint of the jealousy that I could sense was bubbling beneath the surface.

“Is that where you think I’d rather be? August, you wound me.”

“Francesca. Have you seen him again since he first contacted you?” It was clear August suspected, but I didn’t think he really knew anything. Not now that he’d discovered the guard he had on me had been less than observant on probably more than one occasion. I gave him an answer that I could tell shocked him.

“Yes.”

August waited for me to elaborate and I continued almost immediately with barely a hesitation.

“He came by the gym one day. My class was canceled and I was on my way out. He invited me to dinner.” I paused then, and gauged his reaction. I wondered if he could feel me doing so. “I declined, if you care to know.”

“There’s no need to be a brat about it. What night was this?” he asked me.

“It was a day, August. Middle of the day.” When I told him what day it was, he clenched his jaw. “You can call the gym, check the logs. He showed up, worked out, chatted me up, and then I left before him.”

“Alright, but was there a night you didn’t spend at home?”

“Why do you think I spent any night away from the apartment?”

“Maybe you should just answer my questions without any more sass. Or are you looking for something tonight?”

I stared defiantly back at him, because I was. I could see him getting turned on and imagined his dick was probably already hard. It shouldn’t turn him on to have me so disagreeable, but it did. He narrowed his eyes, tilted his head, and waited for my answer. I think it hurt his feelings that I simply carried on with my explanation rather than admitting what I wanted from him.

“The electricity went out in my building one night. I called a friend to see if I could stay over. It was incredibly hot that day and I was never going to be able to sleep without AC. She picked me up and it wasn’t until I got back the next morning that I realized I’d forgotten my phone.”

And then I picked right back up with my insolence.

“But I noticed there were no missed calls or messages from you anyway.” I took another drink, with a devilish smirk on my lips.

“Get up,” he growled at me.

“But I’m not done eating, August.”

“You are. Get up. Now.” August watched as I shoved my chair back and stood. “Now if you want something else to fill that bratty little mouth of yours, why don’t you crawl on over here?”

I saw the pleasure on his face as I sank to my knees before placing my hands on the plush rug beneath the dining table and slowly made my way to him, eyes connected to him the entire time. He turned his seat to face me.

“I am still hungry,” I purred when I reached his lap. “What else did you put on the menu tonight?”

August leaned back in his chair and spread his legs wide as he rested one arm on the table beside him and smoothed the other down his inner thigh.

“Is this one of those meals I have to prepare myself?” I dared to tease and I could see through his pants the way August got even harder as I continued to dish out the attitude.

“It’s practically ready now. You just have to take it out.”

I reached up to unzip his trousers then slipped a hand through the opening of his silk boxer shorts and licked my lips at the sight.

“I have to warn you, I’m particularly ravenous tonight,” I smiled up at him as he drew his hand to my head and pulled me closer.

“It’s a good thing this is all for you then.”

August pulled my head down and closed his eyes as he struggled not to thrust his hips when my mouth wrapped around him. He simply guided me lower and when I opened for him, the look on his face betrayed the way he relished the feel of the back of my throat and the way I gagged while trying to swallow my saliva around his dick. I looked up at him and he opened his eyes to watch the tears of pleasure spill down my face. I never shied away from choking on his dick and I held my own as he began to bob my head in earnest. I kept my mouth wide open when he finally drew me away from his lap just before he grabbed a hold of his own cock to finish himself. He loved watching his seed drip down my face. I knew it made it so much easier for him to get hard again, especially when I swiped my fingers through his spend and wrapped my lips around them to suck them clean.

In the post orgasmic haze after he’d taken me to bed and defiled me a few more ways, he sat up to ask me a question and I noticed he watched my reaction carefully.

“We’re going on another trip, you and I. We’ll return separately this time. I have something I need to bring into the country and I want you to carry it for me. Will you do that for me?”

With some hesitancy, I agreed. I hoped August would take it as a sign that Matteo was nothing but wrong about me. I needed him to feel I was truly and deeply his and that I was only just now beginning to understand that the club wasn’t his only business.

I was late to the rendezvous back in the States, but I did arrive with all the cargo still intact. After apologizing profusely, I stayed quiet and demure, presenting an obvious change from my behavior at previous meetings when he didn’t think I had a clue what business was going down. Now I remained meek and a little wide-eyed as I watched him complete his business transaction, trading a portion of the drugs for a few large duffles of cash.

Later in bed, I broached an earlier subject with what was obviously surprising new information for him.

“August, I have to tell you something,” I said, drawing circles over his chest with my fingertips.

“What is it, love?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Worried how?”

“Is what we did this time what you do all the time? Is that what taking care of business is for you?”

“Are you having a hard time calling it what it is, Francesca? Did you think I only bought the drugs you and I used together?”

I sat up to face him. “I always wondered, but I didn’t know until now. And it worries me. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

“What trouble would I get into? Are you worried about your FBI friend?”

“August, he’s not my friend anymore. Please you have to believe me. But it does worry me. You said there was nothing to worry about, that he had nothing on you. But we’ve just moved a shit ton of illegal drugs into the country. That doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”

“Everything is under control, Francesca. There’s nothing to worry about. Besides, I have plans to get out of that business.”

“Sooner or later?”

“What is with all these questions?”

“It’s just…okay, look. Please don’t be mad. I don’t want you to think I’ve been taking advantage of you. This really did just happen.”

August sat up now himself, as if he was suddenly concerned about the direction this conversation was headed.

“What really just happened, Francesca?”

“It’s honestly perfect timing. It means we could leave here now, leave everything behind and never look back. I have a house now, in Europe, that no one knows about. And enough in a trust fund to keep us set for the rest of our lives together.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” August was becoming agitated. This was new information and I could tell it concerned him that he didn’t know it was a possibility that I wasn’t the down-on-her-luck struggling yoga instructor he thought I was. He must be wondering who had dropped the ball on my background search.

“August, I love you. I don’t want to see you get into trouble. I want us to be together and I don’t think it’s safe here for you any longer. Give the club to someone else and walk away with me.”

August

August was now convinced Francesca wasn’t a threat to him, and he wanted the same to be true for the rest of his team, but someone was talking out of school and he needed to find out who. August and Mateo conferred in quiet corners and behind closed doors. Assignments were given to test loyalties, background checks run again to see if any conflicting information would appear.

Mateo was still not convinced about Francesca, especially knowing she had connections no one uncovered before and he told August it was for the best that he didn’t loosen her security detail. August continued to put her off, every time she brought up getting out of the business and hoped he could eventually convince her to let that go. A second home in Europe would be most welcome, but he was never gonna give up his life and run away.

A couple weeks later, after even more new information had turned up, August finally had what he needed. He knew who was spying and he knew how he wanted to take care of it. No one would ever expect they’d be taken to Paris to be exposed and taught the ultimate lesson.

He had Francesca packed and ready to go when security arrived to drive them to the airport. It was a quiet flight, even if August did give in let her suck him off in the first class cabin. He really did have such a hard time denying her when she got down on her knees for him. The pout on her face when he wouldn’t let her climb onto his lap might have broken a weaker man.

When they arrived at the hotel, he watched Francesca unpack as he always did. He loved to watch the surprise on her face each time she pulled a new item from the bag and she was always eager to put his choices on display for him. His impeccable taste never failed him; every last article of clothing and accessories complimented her body in a way he imagined she had never felt before. It was as if the act of choosing her attire was the first stage of foreplay August used when he made love to her. If his fingers couldn’t caress her, the fabric and material would, molding to her body and holding her firm.

He spent the afternoon ravishing Francesca in bed, chasing every high he could get as if it might be the last. He tasted every inch of her body, nipping and tonguing along the curves and lines, dipping into the valleys. He held her down, wrists above her head, strong legs spreading her wide while he worked his fingers deep into her, stretching and stroking and smoothing and coaxing early waves of pleasure from her.

August swallowed her gasps of pleasure and howls for more, his lips crushing hers while his tongue slid in deep beside hers. He flipped her over and hauled her ass into the air, kneading and squeezing and groping as he bent low and pressed his tongue along her slit, tasting all the slick she’d made just for him.

He knew it was for him by the way she cried his name, begged him to relieve her, and pleaded for a final release. She was a mess and he still wasn’t done. With his cock deep in her drenched pussy, he popped his thumb in his mouth and licked some saliva on it so when he pressed it against her tight pucker it slipped in with ease. Francesca backed right into it with no hesitation and he knew he’d be able to get all the way in again tonight. She was absolutely ready and wanting that.

He took some time lubing and loosening her up. He had three fingers in with his cock still pumping and she wasn’t showing any signs of wanting him to stop. When August finally pushed the tip in, he could feel the way she drew him in. God, how she wanted to be fucked in the ass.

He did that for her, or so he told himself. He couldn’t quite admit that even if she hadn’t wanted it tonight, he may have taken her this way sooner or later. It was what gave him the ultimate orgasm and it was only a bonus that she loved it, too. August thought about how it might have been fun to add a man to their bed so she could choke on a dick while getting railed from behind, in either hole.

Once they were cleaned up and dressed, August ushered Francesca down to the hotel lobby to meet Mateo for the drive to the club.

“August, baby. This isn’t the way to the club,” Francesca commented, glancing out the window.

“And how would you know the way to the club, darling? We’ve never been here together before.” He watched her closely, scanned her face and body for any twitch, any shiver, any tell. As always, he found nothing.

“The GPS says,” she answered, pulling her hand up from beside her and showing him the mapping app that was clearly flashing to recalculate a route. “I always love to see directions. It helps me get used to the city. God, I hope we come back here someday. I always wanted to see Paris. Now that we’re here, I never want to leave.”

Francesca turned back to peer out the window again and August watched her marvel at the lights and buildings around them. For all her sharp edges, August always found the wonder in her eyes endearing. Though he did find it odd when he realized she had most likely spent time in Europe, though she acted as if everything was brand new each time. When they pulled up to the warehouse, he restrained a small smirk when she commented that it didn’t look like the kind of club that suited her dress.

That was her way of saying the spot looked haggard and run down and maybe a little beneath them. And of course it was. It was a warehouse. It was most definitely not a club.

August let her enter first, door held like a gentleman before he turned the handle over to Mateo and entered himself. He didn’t bother hiding the lick of his lips as he watched her ass in the tight dress strut forward in front of him. He could tell she was still horny from the afternoon.

August caught her as she stumbled back into him, seemingly to escape the sight in front of her.

“August, what is this?” He could hear her voice break when she asked the question.

“What does it look like darling?” he answered. Something in her answer would hopefully convince Mateo he had been wrong when he pointed a finger at her. August felt differently, partly due to his previous conversations with her and partly due to the very little actual evidence Mateo presented to make his case. August countered with the more obvious details that pointed to the man in the chair.

“August, you said I had nothing to worry about with you. You said…” she leaned into him, and August thought he detected at least a hint of terror. It would be the first time she’d broken like this before him, though he was sure she barely knew this man sitting before her, beaten unconscious. Will Shaw had hardly ever been around when she was. Maybe a few nights at the club, but always on the periphery. She didn’t know him, she could only see the state he was in, probably barely hanging on. Of course she’d flinch. This wasn’t the first time he was showing her his hand, but it was a doozy.

“August, please. Did you know what was happening here? You have to help him. You can’t let him die. If you help him, that’ll count for something,” Frankie pleaded with him. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to hurt people.”

“Francesca, you’re a very smart and resourceful woman. I’ve grown extremely fond of you. I want you with me, but you do need to know there is a dark side you haven’t seen yet. Sometimes, people work against me. Sometimes, they are looking out for themselves, trying to take from me more than they deserve. Sometimes, they have a sinister motive. Maybe they want to take my business, run me out of the game.” August walked Francesca cautiously towards Will, keeping a firm grip on her arms. “And sometimes, they want to hurt me. Sometimes they think they have the right to keep me from the work I was destined to do and they try to get me in trouble. Will here was trying to get me into trouble.”

August spun Francesca to face him, searching her eyes for understanding.

“Francesca, do you think it’s right for someone to pretend to be someone they aren’t? And then to use that subterfuge to ingratiate themselves into my life so they could try to find unflattering details about my work?”

August watched Francesca blink and saw her pupils dilate. The way her iris had let the black overtake it told him what he needed to know: she was scared. It was good enough for him.

“Nnn..no, August,” she stammered. “But he’s really hurt. Lemme help him.”

August wasn’t prepared for the way she twisted from his grip, so she was on her knees next to Will before he had a chance to take hold of her again. He watched her touch him tentatively, perhaps checking for a pulse as she pushed his watch out of the way and set her fingers on his wrist. She set a hand on the back of his neck and tilted his head back as she pulled his eyelids gently open to check for any reaction. The way her shoulders relaxed told August Will was still alive.

“Anything you think you can do for him? It’s of no use. Francesca, this is something you need to get comfortable with. I will not allow someone to hurt me. Do you understand?”

Syverson

Frankie had been out of pocket and unreachable for weeks now. Syverson knew every move she made, along with August Walker, but the fact that she wouldn’t answer his calls or texts, even on the burner phone number he’d been given made him nervous. Or perhaps frustrated was a better word for it.

He continued to liaise with Director Marshall, usually through Ramos, and continued stacking evidence against Walker even though there was nothing he could do about it for now. His superiors weren’t happy about the fact that another agency was blocking his case, but pressure from even higher up forced them to accept the stalled state of the investigation.

He spent days in surveillance locations and nights thinking about Frankie in his bed. He had to keep reliving those moments to fend off the visuals of her and August together. What he wouldn’t give to have her next to him again, begging for his touch.

He had signed off on the joint agency paperwork that would allow Frankie back into the country with the dope August was peddling, but he hated how much deeper she was getting with August. She was now openly transporting for him which meant August was placing his trust in her even more than before.

Taglists

He also wanted to trust she knew what she was doing, but he feared for her safety, no matter how good of an agent she was. Victoria continued to assure him that Walter had everything under control, but he only wanted to hear it from Frankie’s mouth directly. Apparently, until the CIA was done with their case, that was never gonna happen.

Chapter 7

Everything Henry: @sillyrabbit81 @kittenofdoomage @mayloma @kebabgirl67 @fvckinghenrycavill @geralts-yenn @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @thesaucynomad @just-chirpin @henryownsme

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#henry cavill #fbi agent!syverson x ofc #drug czar!august walker x ofc #syverson fanfiction #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #syverson au #august walker au #syverson #august walker #walk with me #mine #deandoesthingstome

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ctrsbookshelf · 4 months

Text

Hellfire Cupcakes

Prompt 106: Cupcakes

Eddie tries not to look surprised when the door to the trailer swings open to expose Steve carrying two giant containers of cupcakes. He can’t quite see the color through the plastic, with the exception of a few vague swirls of icing.

“Figured we could take your van, since it's got all your shit in the back.” Steve says by way of greeting.

Eddie’s caught off guard by the extremely domestic scene in front of him, Steve with a forgotten and discarded dish towel over one shoulder, arms full, hair slightly disheveled. He tries not to stare at the way Steve’s muscles contract as he readjusts the boxes in his hands.

“Yeah, sure that works!” Eddie blurts out in an attempt to sound nonchalant, but in hindsight sounds high and squeaky. He reaches to take a container, and grins widely.

“What do we have here?” He asks, fishing his keys from his pocket and swinging into the front seat.

“It’s not much. Just thought I’d contribute something to the last session…” Steve says, resting his box in the space between their seats.

“I mean…when you said you wanted to make something I didn’t expect something quite so…elaborate.” Eddie says resting the box on his knees and pulling back the lid.

Inside lay six neat rows of cupcakes, he can see the yellowish white cake beneath a layer of either black or red frosting, with round colored sprinkle balls sprinkled across like pearls. The red sprinkles pop against the black frosting.

“You…made these?” Eddie asks, closing the lid carefully and placing the box down. He can see Steve scratching the back of his head nervously as he starts the car.

“Well…yeah, I wanted to do something special. You worked so hard on the campaign and the kids love sugar. So even though I don’t play…its like I did something.”

Eddie sneaks a look at Steve out of the corner of his eye as they turn the corner out of the trailer park.

“Steve Harrington’s a baker huh? Yet another thing I didn’t know lived under that hair of yours.” Eddie teases gently, smirking softly. There’s so much about this boy he’d never guessed, from his fierce protective streak, to this new soft underbelly that was slowly beginning to expose itself to him as they got farther and farther away in time, from that disastrous week spent saving the world.

Steve smiles, and it makes Eddie’s stomach swoop dangerously. “You haven’t tried one yet, they could be awful.”

“Nah, I’m sure they're great. Either way, they are beautiful. Hey, you could quit your job at the video store and be a cake decorator. Steve “The Hair” Harrington, Hawkins Own Renowned Cake Decorator.” Eddie frames an imaginary sign with his hands and just barely puts them down in time to steer as the stoplight turns green.

Steve laughs and clasps his hands in his lap. “My dad would hate that! It was my mom actually that taught me to bake. Before she decided to travel with my dad, I must’ve been three or four, she would stay home with me. She loved baking, and I would always come home to something new. She got really good at it too. Anyways, it kept her hands busy which I think she liked. Kept her brain busy too.”

Eddie tries not to pry as Steve falls silent again, looking down at his hands. Tries not to think about a small lonely woman baking to fill the time in her large and too silent home.

“I’m sure she loved having you around, though.” Eddie says, sitting up straighter to find a parking spot on the packed street that the Hopper-Byers clan had moved too.

He could see Argyle’s car, a permanent fixture now he was dating Jonathan, and Jeff’s car parked down the way, with his bandmates spilling and tripping over each other to get out. Hopper had called and said he’d cleared a spot for Eddie’s van close to the house, Joyce never liked any of them walking far in the dark. He had very few concrete memories of his mother but he thinks Mrs. Byers would’ve liked her.

“C’mon, you guys!” Jeff says, slapping the side of the van on the way by.

“Yeah, alright we’re coming! Go see if Mama Byers needs help!”

Eddie glances at Steve nervously as he bends to pick up the tupperware of cupcakes. He’s still sitting silently, looking at the house with a dazed expression.

“You know Steve, I think your mom would’ve been real proud of these cupcakes.” He says, popping the lid off and pulling one out to hand to Steve.

“Yeah maybe…but those are for you guys!” he sputters and looks at the baked good warily.

“Stevie, you made at least thirty cupcakes, there will be plenty. Plus, a bakers gotta test his product, hmm?” Eddie teases, waving the cupcake in front of Steve’s face.

“Alright, but only if you have one too, I wanna know what you think.” he says, a bright smile cracking his face open.

“Your wish is my command, my liege.” Eddie says, tipping his chin in a mock bow and reaching for a cupcake covered in red frosting.

“Hellfire colors?” Eddie asks, licking his thumb where red had smeared.

Steve tries not to stare rather unsuccessfully. Eddie’s eyes glint mischievously and it makes Steve feel warm, right down to his toes. “Yeah, figured I couldn’t go wrong with red and black.”

“Together on three? Ready, 1, 2, 3!” Steve bites down without breaking eye contact, and Eddie melts against the seat.

“Holy, fuck Steve! You think these are bad?” He launches into his typical ranting, even now, putting on a show for a party of one.

He rolls his eyes back into his head, and spreads his arms wide, dramatically collapsing. “This is fantastic!” He finishes his in four huge bites and looks contentedly over at Steve. He cleans the frosting from his lips with his thumb, a move that Steve cannot believe he finds sexy. Steve flicks his eyes to the dashboard and stuffs more cupcake into his mouth.

Eddie is already up, opening the door to slide out. Steve watches him go as he finishes the last bite. He must’ve been staring too long, because Eddie looks back at him and asks, “What, I got icing on my face still?”

“Hold on.” Steve says, sliding out his door and walking around to the back door of the van. “Can I just…” Steve asks, holding up his thumb to swipe at Eddie’s nose.

A smear of red comes off and Steve thinks about licking his finger momentarily, before he wipes his hand across his jeans.

“There, all better.” Steve says, trying not to think about the warmth of Eddie’s skin against his fingers.

Eddie smiles, bright and radiant, and gestures with his free hand for Steve to lead the way. “Everyone will love these, man.”

Almost three and a half years later, Steve graduates with a long-term certificate in Baking and Pastry Arts from Ivy Tech Community College. Predictably the whole party is there, with his mother making a short appearance. She keeps her distance from them, with Eddie screaming his head off, but she smiles gently at him from her seat and claps enthusiastically when his name is called. Eddie kisses him hungrily on the mouth, and Steve has never been so glad he decided to make those Hellfire themed cupcakes.

#stwgdailyprompt #prompt 106 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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clnriswood · 1 year

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DRACO MALFOY X CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER

Something Different | Part Eleven

a/n: hiatus is finally over and i am so excited to be be writing again hehe! i hope this longggg chapter was worth the wait. prepare for more twists and angst to come! >:)

tag list: @call-me-banana-bandit @pillowjj @truly-insatiable @natsiboo @justmesadgirl @boredoffmebox @jjjmaybank @jejegu @ superpowereddonut @irritantive @salemlilly @marshmelloyellow02 @puffymints @is-it-really-a-secret @i-mmunity @sebastiansass @hisoldlover @kyobien @averagefangirl21 @inurealiyah @fuzzzwald @lesfleursmonet @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @darkqueennyx-blog @cityintexas-dallas @summerconcerto @awesomebooklover17 @nicodoesntexist @ashleyriddle @uglymaggot

It had been nearly a year since the girl had set foot inside the Room of Requirement. Nearly a year since Draco Malfoy had outed Dumbledore’s Army to Professor Umbridge, which Cedric Diggory was sure to point out to the blond the moment they set foot inside their hiding place. This room was different from the version she’d come to know during her lessons with Harry throughout her fifth year. This room was a never-ending sea of cupboards, tables, chairs, and every miscellaneous odd object one could possibly imagine. It was amongst the mess that the girl drifted, coming to a halt only when they were deep enough into the junk that even an uninvited guest would struggle to find them. The unlikely trio slowed, all three eyeing the single squashy sofa chair that sat nestled between a scratched-up desk and rickety stool.

Both boys eyed instinctively moved to give the girl the sofa chair, stepping aside to each of its arms in offer. Awkwardly, the girl pursed her lips and considered her other options. Cautiously, she ran her index finger through a line of thick dust on the nearby abandoned desk. Then, she was hoisting herself up onto it with a shrug. Disgruntled, the boys moved from the chair, Cedric upon the stool, and Malfoy choosing to lean against the empty sofa.

“So,” the girl cleared her throat, an uncomfortable quiet settling over them. “My father,” she turned to Draco. “Tell me.”

Draco’s mouth opened slowly, unsure where to begin.

“He’s alive?” she pressed.

“Yes,” the blond began rather carefully.

“Prove it,” the girl demanded at once.

He couldn’t help it. The Slytherin shook his silver-white strands of hair with a gentle laugh. Cedric didn’t look too pleased about it, or really just the whole ordeal in general, but he was sure to remain well-behaved this time around.

“How very demanding of you,” he noted with his usual edge of flirtatiousness.

The girl didn’t budge. Rather, straight-mouthed, she simply stared with urgent seriousness into the pale boy’s glittering ice-colored eyes. This was no time for his coquettishness.

“Y/N,” Draco’s mouth twisted cooly. “Surely you don’t think it’s that simple?”

“And why not?” she prodded.

“You-Know-Who,” Malfoy elaborated. “He’s very—” he paused, thinking, “—intentional. With his strategy. With what he wants people to know. And what people know right now is that your father is dead. That’s what you believe too, is it not?”

Frustratedly, the girl nodded. “Well, it’s something like that,” she breathed. This was at the bottom of her list of topics she liked to discuss, and it was one she’d kept to herself for the entirety of her life. “My mother died first, as you know.”

She swallowed. Both boys stared at her with a fixated intensity that only made her more anxious.

“They said he did it. My father, of course. Because that same night was when…” she trailed off.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve both heard it for the last six years anyways,” she clenched her teeth together.

Still unmoving, the pair blinked in silent understanding.

“It was all over the Daily Prophet, what he did. Killing my mother, and then taking out ten muggles with him in what they deemed his horrific Voldemort-affiliated suicide.” Both boys flinched instinctively at the sound of the wizard’s name. She inhaled a shaky gulp of air. “I was only a child, at the time. Just about Harry’s age, actually. Which is ironic,” she reflected, “because even after knowing of it all, he still… he still wanted to be my friend.” Her lips pursed in quiet contemplation before she continued. “Well, the Ministry notified me about it when it happened. Obviously, I don’t remember it well. He murdered a bunch of muggles during a fire, they said. Only, they didn’t do too much reporting on him after the fact because—”

The word hung in the air for a moment. Because. Draco and Cedric were practically leaning forward into her storm of words now.

“Because they never found a body,” she finished.

“What?” they harmonized.

“It wasn’t reported on,” she sighed. “The Ministry didn’t want to cause an unnecessary panic,” she added. “But I went to the funeral, still. It was just me and a guardian from the orphanage that they’d assigned to me from the home.”

Much like Harry, the girl’s life before Hogwarts was not one she looked back on with particular fondness.

“There was no body,” she finished. “Just an empty casket.”

Her eyes came to Cedric’s, bluish-green and sad, and Draco’s, soft and wide.

“I always just assumed it was true,” she said. “I hoped he was dead. After what he did, how could I let myself think otherwise? But then, after what you said,” she breathed, eyes falling on Draco’s. “Well, I suppose a tiny part of myself always feared it, but I never really believed it. I didn’t want to. But now,” she said, leaning forward onto her knees, “you know something.”

The blond straightened, his mouth drooping, brows creasing.

“I am sorry, Y/N,” he began sincerely, to which she shook her head. “I am,” he repeated, firm this time.

“It can’t possibly have been easy, what you went through,” Cedric added.

The boys looked briefly at each other, an unspoken exchange occurring in their stares.

“Stop,” she raised a hand with a sour-faced scowl. “I don’t want pity from either of you two, okay? I just want to know if it’s true. I need to know where he is.”

The girl turned her legs back towards Draco, sitting more upright. Reluctantly, the blond folded his arms across his chest, his long white fingers curling over the sleeves of his black robes.

“The Death Eaters,” he began. “There are whispers I’ve heard, things my father has told me. You-Know-Who’s Army is stirring. People are—” he stammered “showing up, again. People who were thought to be gone.”

Draco’s gaze turned gentler yet, sympathy swallowing his visage.

“Have you seen him then?” the Hufflepuff responded with a slow suck of air through her teeth. “Is it true?”

The Slytherin’s jaw loosened. His silence reverberated through the room, the fierceness of his gaze so consuming that for a moment it was only him and the girl in there.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “It’s true. I’ve seen him myself.”

Her heart sank. Sure, he’d claimed it before. But this time she could feel in his words, in those eyes too, that Draco was being honest.

“Well then. I want to see him too,” she decided.

“What?” Cedric interjected at last. “Y/N—”

“I want to know exactly what happened that night,” she fired off before the brunette could get a start. “I want to hear it from his mouth,” she said. “And when he’s done,” she hopped down onto the balls of her feet with a brush of her hair behind her ears, “I’m going to kill him myself.”

Both boys froze. Cedric, a little mortified, and Draco, a little less so. It was the former who spoke first.

“Even if it were true,” Cedric argued, tarnishing Draco’s word as he did, “you’d have to get him in the same room as you. What makes you think he’d even want to do that, for starters?”

Draco Malfoy replied, so quietly that neither of his two listeners heard at first. A moment later, he cleared his throat, jaw hardening.

“He told me so,” the boy uttered, clear as day.

“What? Really? Why?” the questions left the girl’s trembling lips faster than she could process them.

“Yes. And also, I’m not one of them, before you get started,” Draco worded bitterly in Cedric’s direction for good measure. “But yes. He came to Malfoy Manor, over the Summer for one of my father’s so-called ‘meetings.’” His tone shifted displeasingly. “He cornered me one evening asking if I knew you,” he rambled, eyes flickering between the girls.’ “I told him yes. But, really, I didn’t even realize it was him until after he’d gone,” Malfoy worded cautiously. “But, looking back, what unsettles me most is how he seemed so…” his words were swallowed by momentary thought. “He seemed concerned.”

“Concerned?” the girl echoed.

“Yes,” he confirmed hesitantly. Then he added, “for you. He wanted to know,” Draco swallowed “that you were alright.”

Where the girl perhaps should have felt some form of confusion or care, she only felt even more resentful.

“You’re telling the truth?” she interrogated the blond disbelievingly.

“I am,” he bowed his head.

“Swear it,” she commanded with a step closer to him.

Draco appeared increasingly flustered. Cedric straightened as he watched in silence. His mouth loosening, Draco bore his gaze into the face of the girl who had no doubt been hurt and tricked before. She only wanted answers, answers that he alone could give her.

“I swear,” he promised, voice gravelly.

Her eyes welled with the tears she fought back.

“Okay,” she said. “I trust you,” she nodded with a little sniffle. “But I don’t trust him,”

Malfoy nodded understandingly, and he looked desperately as if he wanted to hold her, take her hand, anything. But he didn’t.

“I know,” he phrased, and it was just them again now. “I know.”

The girl allowed herself a moment, nose pointing away as she barred her emotions within the confines of her increasingly tightening chest.

“I still want to see him,” she decided, leaving her intentions intentionally vague for the moment being.

“Y/N,” he shook his head. You have no idea the danger you’d be putting yourself in,” his arms dropped, hands finding their way into his pockets.

“But,” she ignored him, “you do know how then? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Y/N,” his lashes fluttered as he repeated her name, more tenderly this time.

“Answer me,” she said, stepping in closer toward the blonde.

His lips quivered, expression reluctant, but he maintained her stare still.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Hypothetically, yes. There is a way you could speak with him.”

“Excellent,” she perked up. “How?”

Chewing at his cheek, the boy lifted a glittering ring-clad finger to the great big cabinet that stood three feet behind the girl. A vanishing cabinet, she realized at once. One that surely could connect to another outside of the school, with the right tinkering.

“No.”

Cedric’s voice cut through the exchange, quiet but unmistakable.

“No?” the girl spun to face her boyfriend. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean,” he stood with a shake of his head. “That this is too unsafe. For you, and for everyone in the school. You’d be allowing your father, a killer, a direct path into Hogwarts. Y/N. It’s too dangerous.”

“I could keep it under control,” she objected. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s selfish,” Cedric corrected.

His words stung, red-hot and foul. For several moments, nobody so much as moved. Fighting back the flurry of emotions that crashed upon her, the girl turned her head ever so slightly. This was becoming too much, and too quickly.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Cedric pressed his lips together, breath coming short and frustrated. “I didn’t mean—”

“I think you should go,” she silenced him.

Cedric looked like he’d been slapped across the face. Regret and hurt washed over his flushed and delicately carved cheeks. A lump formed in the boy’s throat as he turned his eyes to the old floorboards with a sorrowful shake of his head that sent brown waves spilling over his brows.

“I—” he tried, his voice awfully raspy as it lowered in plea. “Is that really what you want?”

She could barely look at him now. It’s not like she loved him any less. She knew exactly where he was coming from, and it was a place of love, no doubt. But she also knew that he would never be able to understand what this meant to her, why it mattered.

“It is, yes.”

Cedric didn’t even manage another word this time. Instead, he simply nodded. His eyes drifted from his girlfriend’s to the blond’s, and an instant dislike overwhelmed him. It was to him that he spoke his goodbyes.

“You know this isn’t the right way,” he hardened. “Please,” he bargained. “Don’t. For her.”

But the Slytherin didn't so much as budge.

“This is her life,” he murmured. “Her choice.”.

“She could get hurt—”

“You don’t think I know that?” he spat softly, silencing the Hufflepuff. “I do. Of course I do.” Two searing ice-colored eyes made their way to the girl’s stricken visage. It was her that he spoke to now. “But… I also know what it’s like to not be given a choice,” Malfoy defended quietly, his words heavy with unspoken personal implications. “And so… I won’t be the one to deny her that. I can’t be.”

Cedric, wounded, turned to his best friend with a final heavy breath. But, when she didn’t look back his way, he accepted his loss. Silently, he offered his rival a final lingering glare, one burning with resentment, and then he was gone. It was minutes later, after he’d gone, that Draco finally spoke.

“Are you alright?” his voice came, quiet and unfamiliarly gentle.

At last, the girl was able to meet his eyes again. Only this time there was no pushing back the wave of tears that clung against her reddened stare, or the unbearable tremor of her face as she wiped at it. At first, she tried to croak out something of an “I’m fine,” but after being met with a clearly disbelieving deer-in-the-headlights blink from the blond, she gave in.

“No,” her voice cracked as she ran her tongue over her lips, a strained chuckle escaping her. “I’m not okay.’

She swallowed, allowing herself another glance at the Slytherin. The boy sighed, slow and soft. She could see his fingers curling in his pockets as his tongue ran over his teeth. It was taking every ounce of control he had to maintain his distance, to not bring her close as he wished he could. No, not after she’d made clear the terms of this arrangement. She was not his to hold. But the girl had turned her attention away now and was focusing it instead on the grand cabinet that stood tall behind her.

“Alright,” she spoke to its wooden door. “How do we use this thing?”

…

Nothing said the end of the semester quite like yet another one of Slughorn’s odd and appropriately deemed ‘Slug Club’ events. This time, the frog-like professor had upped the status of his special invites from ice cream party to the real deal. Each of his guests was allowed one date, and of course, Cedric had lasted all of a minute before asking his girlfriend to join him as his official date. At the time, she had only rolled her eyes and scrunched her nose into a laugh that meant ‘yes’, but now, on the evening of its occurrence, the feeling in the air had shifted. Where a lingering excitement had begun to form for, of all things, a Slughorn party, was a newfound uncomfortability that she hadn’t quite figured out how to handle.

That night, as she descended the spinning staircase that led to the Professor’s party, a memory flashed before her eyes. The cream-colored dress she’d worn to Slughorn’s last dinner, the way Cedric’s face looked when he saw her, still clear as day in her vision. And the feeling of his fingers, warm and soft as he held her hand beneath the table. And so, midnight blue dress spilling over the curves of her shoulders and hair meticulously curled to perfection, she urged away her frustration. And, seeing her boyfriend dressed handsomely in a fitted white button-up with a dark blazer to match, she almost forgot entirely. There was that upturn of his full lips and the familiar shine engulfing his eyes, just as he’d looked the last time. It was undeniable in his face — he loved her still as he had then. Maybe more, in fact.

“Hi,” the girl exhaled with a shy smile as she reached the foot of the staircase.

“Hello,” Cedric’s voice rumbled, warm and low. “You look,” he paused, making no effort to hide the stare that traveled from the girl’s eyes to the slit in the side of her dress. “Beautiful,” he finished politely.

“Thanks,” she chuckled, her face flushing. “You don’t look too bad, yourself.”

The smile the boy offered was almost debilitatingly handsome. The two laughed quietly, the sweet moment lingering for a little before being swallowed whole by the silence it left. Nervously, Cedric let his mouth fall open.

“Erm—” he tried through a short breath, “about earlier.”

“Ced,” the girl interjected. “It’s alright.”

Cedric shook his head, gold-brown waves bouncing over his forehead and framing his bewildered gaze handsomely.

“But—”

“Look,” she tried slowly. “Can we just…forget about it? At least for right now? It’s the end of the semester, and a really long one at that” she explained. “And I’m tired, and panicked, and dreading this ordeal, and I just—” she rambled. “I love you.”

Cedric’s ocean eyes widened, his face flooded with relief and pining.

“I love you,” she repeated, stepping in closer to her best friend. She reached each of her palms to his blazer, gripping the boy by each side with an angled stare of her doe eyes at him, which did the job well enough.

“I love you too,” he murmured with a brush of his long fingers through her hair.

The boy’s right hand stopped against her cheek, thumb grazing her skin as he moved his left hand against her hip. For a moment, he only drank her in from a distance, consuming her wholly with a flicker of his eyes across her body. But soon finding himself unable to resist, he was bringing the girl forward with a tug of her face toward his lips. She raised to the tips of her toes to reach him, her left hand curling around the boy’s wrist for support as her lips opened against his with a smile. She could feel the stretch of his mouth, the mirror of his flashing teeth as he laughed warmly into her kiss, his left hand squeezing a little tightly at her waist, and then tighter yet. She paused, a surprised and eager moan of contentment caught in Cedric’s grin.

“Oh, come on. Get a room. Or a broom closet, at least.”

The two untangled themselves at once, spinning around to face their friend and spectator.

“Harry!” Y/N exclaimed with mild horror.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed back casually as if he hadn’t just caught her entangled in a rather passionate kiss with one of his best friends.

“Harry,” Cedric’s mouth went into that lopsided grin of half-embarrassment half-pride. “Good to see you, mate.”

“Was it?” Harry countered jokingly.

The girl pressed her fingertips to her temples with embarrassment.

“Of course,” Cedric huffed smartly. “It’s going to be a wonderful evening, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Ah. Yes.” Harry forced his lips into a terribly awkward smile of encouragement. “I’m sure you’ll be having a great night.”

“Harry—” the girl straightened with a gawk.

“Yes?” he perked up with a rock forward on its heels. Then, pointing down the hall, he stopped whatever conversation was about to happen. “Well, so unfortunate to cut this short,” he declared. “But my date is arriving so I really best be—” he waved a hand at the blonde girl who stood about thirty feet away from the group.

There was Luna Lovegood, looking as Luna-y as ever in her spindly and sparkly violet dress.

“—best be going,” Harry finished. Then he did a sort of bow goodbye before promptly beginning his sprint away from the caught couple.

“Oh my God,” the girl covered her face in shame once he’d left.

“Oh, come on,” Cedric brushed his fingertips through his girlfriend’s hair as she pressed her forehead to his chest, where she hoped to be buried away from what had just happened.

“Ced. That was terrible,” she moaned into his chest.

“It was funny,” Cedric countered positively, dropping a kiss to her forehead. “Now come on,” he said, “we really have to get going.”

She pulled away, her palms resting against his opened wrists as she pouted up at him.

“Why? What’s the big rush to get to Slughorn’s party?” she asked.

“Oh,” Cedric feigned surprise. “No, not that.” He was barely holding himself together now as he wheezed through his next words. “There’s a broom cupboard,” he offered, “just down the hall.”

“Ced!” she snapped with a disgusted laugh and a smack of her hand to the boy’s chest.

The boy buckled over in laughter as she began her overdramatic storm away from him. He laughed through his pleas for her to come back, all the while.

“I’ll see you at the party!” she called over her shoulder.

“Wait!” he begged as he brought himself upright. “You can’t go running off without me, you’re my date!”

The girl paused, throwing a curtain of curls and a devilish grin over her shoulder.

“Then you had better catch me.”

. . .

The night went oddly, predictably. First, there was Hermione, spending the majority of the event hidden away from frat boy Cormac McLaggen whom she’d invited for some reason. Then there was a very uncomfortable conversation between Y/N, Luna, and Slughorn, in which Luna wound up smacking about the clouds of invisible wrackspurts that she claimed resided before the professor’s bewildered eyes. At one point Harry appeared, muttering something along the lines of ‘setting Snape’s head on fire,’ before whisking away into the crowd. And then there was Cedric, so polite as he chatted up every terribly boring guest who looked his way, his girlfriend an unwilling victim to the dull onslaught of conversations.

It was around the point that she was considering leaving when the girl saw Draco, of all people, amidst the crowd. But what was especially strange about it all was that it was Mr. Filch who was accompanying him, dragging the blond in by the collar of his black suit. Draco’s shoulders were hunched, his eyes glued to the floor with embarrassment. As Filch paraded him before the crowd, the Slytherin’s eyes dared to meet Y/N’s. They widened, then fell once again.

“Found him lurking in this corridor,” Filch declared with a turn to professor Slughorn. “He claims to have been invited to your party.”

“Okay!” Draco snapped, exasperated. His nostrils flared as those searing ice-colored daggers came up to meet his audience. “I was gatecrashing,” he admitted with an ashamed tilt of his head. “Happy?”

“Oh,” Slughorn put his hands on his hips. “Well! I suppose we do have the room, dear boy—” he began “If you’d like to stay—”

But before he could decide, Snape answered.

“I’ll escort him out.”

Two loud footfalls came slowly to a halt as the greasy-haired Professor came to a stop before the blond. Severus Snape bent his sharp nose toward the boy with a flicker of his charcoal black eyes across his guilt-stricken face. Slowly, a sneer curled onto Draco’s lips.

“Certainly, professor,” he hissed lowly.

Nobody dared to move, for a moment.

“Alright! Everyone, carry on, carry on!” Slughorn demanded with a jovial wave of his hands.

A murmur began to fill the room, then a quiet sea of conversation washed its way back to life. But, with no interest in staying anyways, the girl set her sights outside of Slughorn’s party. Without a second glance back, she reached for her wand and glided swiftly from the warm room and its twinkling string lights. Out in the corridor outside, she was surprised to see Harry Potter already standing there, leaning against the wall incredibly conspicuously.

“What are y—” the girl started to speak.

Silencing her, the boy-who-lived raised a finger to his lips in warning. Then he tilted his head to the right. From just around the corner, when it was quiet enough, she could make out Snape’s unpleasant and familiar voice.

“I’m spying on Malfoy,” Harry whispered as the girl approached him. “What are you doing?” he asked after a moment.

She sighed and stood behind him, leaning against the wall as he did.

“Same thing,” she huffed.

“Y/N? Harry?” came Cedric’s warm voice as he too emerged from the gathering.

Both friends silenced him with alarmed eyes and a demanding “SHH!”

“Sorry,” he apologized through a low murmur. “Spying on Draco?” he asked expectedly.

They both nodded.

Eyes rolling, the brunette stuffed two hands into his pockets and padded his way over to the wall, where he would tilt his ear against it as the two before him had. There, the three bent diagonally against the stone, listening as best they could.

“I swore to protect you,” came the sneer of Severus Snape.

“I don’t need your protection,” spat Draco, instantaneously.

The girl felt her stomach lurch with sadness for him. His answer was almost too-predictable. But then he dared to go on.

“I was chosen for this. Out of all others. Me.”

She swallowed, straightening with fear. From either side of her, both boys also shifted nervously at his words.

“I was chosen,” he repeated, crueler this time. “This is my moment. And I won’t fail.”

But it was just one kind of cruelty that she had long since come to recognize in the Slytherin. It bore the same spiteful intonations as the words he used to pridefully spit her way back when he still claimed he resented her. He didn’t mean what he was saying, but his words were laced with the poison of pretending like he did. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want a part of it. She deciphered that much from the quiver of his voice alone.

There was a scuffle of shoes and limbs, and then the heavier set of footsteps, Snape’s, were disappearing down the corridor. But still, Draco remained.

“I knew it,” came Cedric’s voice from behind her. “He’s with them.”

Harry turned. “He hasn’t actually admitted to anything.”

“He’s clearly entangled in something,” Cedric’s brows came together. “What else could it be?”

She could see the boy’s mind racing. She could see that he already knew the answer.

“Stop,” the girl hissed under her breath. “Both of you.”

The boys froze, staring at their friend in bewilderment.

“Can’t you hear he’s hurting?” she said with a gape. “He’s still there,” she waved a hand indicatively. “And he’s not alright.”

“What do you mean?” Harry whispered cluelessly.

“Whatever he’s bound by,” she worded vaguely. “He wants out.”

“Y/N,” Cedric chimed, shaken by her sudden defense of the Slytherin. “He just said this was his moment. He’s said it like it’s an honor, a gift.”

“But what does that even mean?” Harry stated, more to himself than to the Hufflepuffs.

“Sure, he said it,” the girl explained, aggravated. “But can’t you tell he’s lying?”

Two sets of eyes were on her again. And they were looking at her as if she were mad.

A hint of a smile grabbed at Cedric’s lips. “And… you got all of that from… his tone of voice?”

Her nostrils flared. “Yes.”

“Y/N,” he shook his head through a flustered stammer. “How can you blame me for not hearing the lengths you’ll go to in order to defend him?” There was that last word, dusted with salt and familiar bitterness. Him.

“You’re wrong,” the girl shot back, loud enough that her voice was sure to have traveled over to the next corridor. But she didn’t really care now. “And mean.”

Then she spun on her heel, hair flying as she began her march around the corner, her heels bringing a loud attention to her presence as it moved. Any remainder of Cedric’s smile vanished at once. From beside him, Harry’s green eyes widened behind his glasses from second-hand embarrassment. Even he knew he’d missed the mark. Hasteless, both boys scuttled forward to the edge of the wall, close enough to be heard but not seen.

As the girl rounded the corner, she was met with an almost eerie sight. Bathed only in the moonlight that flooded the corridor from a grand arched window, Draco Malfoy was hunched against the hall’s stone pillar, back turned stoically against the light. As the girl’s footsteps sounded, he straightened, and she could make out the familiar silhouette of his side profile as he turned his slender features against the white glow of the night. In his lavish black suit, he seemingly melted into the darkness.

“Y/N,” came the sound of his raspy voice.

He’d been crying, she confirmed silently. There it was in his voice.

“How did you know it was me?” she asked calmly toward him.

He’d guessed it without so much as a glance her way.

“Your shoes,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “Remember?”

Slowing, the girl thought back to the night he’d tried to kiss her, the same night he’d claimed to know her well enough to pick up the distinct sound of her footfalls.

“They have a way they sound,” he explained, his voice rumbling a little more warmly now. “You have a... a way that you walk.”

She swallowed, doing her best to remain composed for him.

“A way that I walk?” the girl mused softly, closing the distance between herself and the blond.

He tensed, alert. “Don’t.”

“What?” she asked softly, approaching the boy still.

“I don’t know what you think you know,” his voice dropped in warning, “but you’d do better to keep your nose out of it.”

“Okay,” his friend said at once. “But I’m not worried about that right now,” she defended, coming to a stop with a white-flag raise of her palms.

Draco didn’t dare to look at her.

“Then what?” he managed quietly.

“I—” the girl paused. She knew well enough that Cedric and Harry would be listening from just around the corner. But kindness was something she could afford to regret. “You,” she decided. “I’m worried about you, Draco.”

“I don’t need your pity,” he shot back at once. Quick and sour, just as he’d sounded a minute ago with Snape, and just as she’d sounded when she told the two boys the same thing earlier that day.

“It’s okay to admit you’re scared,” she tried with a gentle lilt of her voice. “But I…” she stepped forward, “I want to be here for you.”

This was enough. Draco turned his tall and thin frame toward the girl, his piercing ice-colored eyes meeting hers in the moonlight and sending a flurry of emotions crashing over her. The Slytherin's pale brows came together, and she noticed that they framed a reddened pair of eyes that looked even more tired at night than they did in the day. Normally, they would go on do something along the lines of what Cedric called ‘eating her,’ but this time he didn’t allow himself, which he’d gotten marginally better at since his forced acquaintanceship with the boy.

“I don’t need you,” his voice said, and his face lied.

“Let me be here for you,” the girl ignored him, a mere foot from the boy now.

“I don’t—” his lip curled and his nose scrunched, but it was softly that his next words came “—need you.”

“Please,” the girl urged, so badly wanting to make the pain leave him but not knowing how. “Draco,” cracked her voice, making him hurt all the more at the sound.

He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he just stood there, lips trembling as he waited mutely for the thing that would save him. The thing that he wouldn’t say, and all of the things that he wished to but couldn’t. Unsure what else she could do, the girl decidedly closed the space between their bodies and threw her arms around the boy’s neck. She had to practically jump to reach him as her arms curled around him, forcing him to stumble into her desperate embrace. His face had barely made it to her shoulder before he began to cry, and it was so quiet that she could barely hear it. Almost like he’d practiced keeping his cries stifled, she thought.

For a moment his hands stayed stuck between the folds of his pockets, but then, slowly, they lifted. Two hands snaked around the girl’s torso. At first, he just let her hug him, his hands gripped to her in support more than anything else. But then he was sliding his arms up against her back, scooping the girl in closer to his hard chest and clutching him to her like she were his life force. She could feel the curve of his cheek to the side of her neck, could feel his rattling breaths and the tears that caught on the fabric of her midnight-colored dress. She let the edges of her fingertips brush the nape of the boy’s neck. Consciously forcing herself away, she kept them from his hair. Meanwhile, her own locks were tangled in the limbs and tear-stained cheeks of the blond, who held her in absolute silence for almost a minute before letting go.

His nose was red, his eyes, redder. But something of an almost smile traced his mouth. The boy sniffled, face glittering from the light of the moon and stars. This was the first time she’d seen him cry, she realized. And he looked more ethereal than she could’ve imagined. She wondered what his next words would be, but was surprised when they finally came.

“I’m sorry for crashing your party,” he said.

She stepped back, “don’t be.”

Draco Malfoy dared to smile, the emotion looking unfitting on his sallow face. Neither spoke, but both were thinking the same thing.

“I won’t see you until after the holidays,” he worded softly.

This was his way of telling her he would miss her.

“I guess you’re right,” she blinked up at him, her heart racing in her chest.

This was her way of saying the same.

“Well then,” he sighed heavily as a familiar melancholy pulled at his lips. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

A steady fall of snow passed the two from outside. The only sound was their breathing and the distant clamor from Slughorn’s festivities. The girl shifted her feet nervously.

“Merry Christmas, Draco.” She nodded, pressing her lips firmly together.

Both were still, neither wanting to be the first to leave. After a few seconds, it was Draco who turned to depart.

“Wait,” she said.

His eyes were back on hers now. He didn’t say a word.

“I’ll be staying with Mr. and Mrs. Diggory,” she said. “If you ever want to reach me.”

Draco Malfoy’s pale face flooded with relief. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he settled instead for a little bow of his head. But that was okay because she understood all the same. His two blue eyes shone with a final look of gratitude, and then he was gone.

The silence that was left in his absence was deafening, and yet the girl was unvexed when she turned and was met with the sight of two boys just down the corridor. There was Harry, looking like he’d just now realized something obvious, and there was Cedric, wrought jealousy woven through his handsome and delicate features.

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radioactivepeasant · 1 year

Text

Fic Prompts: Snippet Monday

The original scene of Jak bringing Mar to Sig, now expanded

Sig hadn’t stopped staring at them yet. In a curiously tight voice, he asked, “Where did you say you found the little guy?”

Jak shifted the kid to his other hip. “The Underground found him,” he said, a little distracted by the worry that Krew might come back at any second. “I guess he was just wandering around the slums. Don’t know what happened to his parents.”

Daxter peered around the edge of the door, then scurried into the bar. "All clear, Jak. The guards gave up."

Jak snorted. "I guess even they don't muscle in on Krew's territory without a health inspector backing them up."

Sig reached out behind him and fumbled for a moment before gripping the edge of the bar for support. “Jak. Kid. Why…why’d you bring him here?”

Daxter hopped down to the bar top and casually stole what was left of Sig’s drink. “Because Poochie down there doesn’t like the Underground leaders, so Jak decided -- without consulting me, mind you -- that kidnapping Junior and going into hiding was the best solution. But hey, fun fact: if a dog doesn’t trust you, neither does an ottsel!”

A muscle in Sig’s cheek twitched. Hard.

"You just picked him up and bolted?" he demanded, "You're serious? You're willing to cross the city and the Underground for that baby?"

He didn't sound upset, which surprised them. He sounded thoughtful.

Jak squared his shoulders and nodded. "I am. We're kids. Not pawns."

The little boy laid his head down on Jak’s shoulder and pouted at this fervent declaration.

“I know,” Jak answered easily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to translate for him, “You thought they were nice. Sooner or later, kid, you’re gonna learn that nice is different than good. Until then, just trust me, okay?”

The child stuck his lip out even further, but sullenly signed an affirmative, coupled with the title he’d stubbornly applied to Jak. That seemed to startle Sig even more.

“He calls you his big brother?” he asked.

Daxter burped shamelessly before interrupting. “Both of us, actually! Though I guess Jak does look like Junior.”

The ottsel paused to reflect on that statement. “Huh. Boy, he really does look like you, pal. I mean, your hair was never that neat, and our dog was bigger…”

He brightened. “Maybe he’s a descend- er, a distant relative!”

Jak shot a warning look at Daxter. Sure, he trusted Sig – probably more than the entire city combined at this point – but he still wasn’t going to go around advertising that he had traveled through time!

"Anyway-" Jak shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I trust you. And since I can't just walk around the city with the kid on my back, I thought-"

His voice quieted.

"I thought maybe you'd know where we could go."

Sig studied his face for an uncomfortably long time. Then he took a shaky breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay. You rookies get the kid into the range, all the way to the back. You stay there until closing time. I need to make a run up to the bazaar, but I’ll come get you when there’s fewer Guards hanging around, and we’ll head for my place.”

Jak narrowed his eyes. “You know who the kid is,” he challenged.

Sig pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not the time to explain it, cherry. But the only way Mar is gonna be safe -- only way you are gonna be safe -- is if we can get him all the way out of the city.”

The kid – whose name Sig clearly already knew, – tightened his grip on Jak and frowned at Sig. “Big Brothers too!” he spelled with his other hand.

For a moment, Sig seemed to twitch. Then, under his breath, he muttered, “Yeah, he’s probably gonna agree with you, kiddo.”

He didn’t elaborate on who “he” was supposed to be.

_________________________________________

Sig rarely used the emergency contact channel. Actually, he was pretty sure he hadn’t touched it since coming to the city. He didn’t want to use a priority signal for petty details about guard patrols and citizen resistance movements. That channel was reserved for one thing in Sig’s mind: telling Damas if he’d found his missing child.

The shack in the water slums wasn’t the most secure location, but he’d scrounged together a few ramshackle turrets to keep curious guards at bay. A few extra antennas surreptitiously placed around the wall bordering the slums would help him scramble the signal. He just had to find a way to keep Jak from leaving the house.

Frankly, that sounded more impossible than the bizarre explanation he’d managed to shake out of the soothsayer in the bazaar.

Onin was remarkably lucky that the Underground needed her alive. Because if she knew half as much about Mar's kidnapping as Sig suspected she did, by rights she should've been headed for an Arena trial.

At least Mar was starting to remember them, now. It was all bits and pieces, to be sure, but they were real memories. Sig didn’t think his heart could have taken it if both of the kids had forgotten them completely.

He put his receiver down and reached out on reflex to apprehend Daxter and the crocodog as Mar chased them around the kitchen in a noisy game of tag.

“Alright, it’s bedtime for you, squirts.”

Mar gave him his best pout, clearly learned from the puppy. But Sig had been immune to that look since Mar was two, and was unfazed.

“Don’t give me that look, buster. I need to call your dad, anyway.”

Mar frowned at this. He screwed up his little face as though concentrating very hard on something. After a few seconds, he tentatively lifted the amulet around his neck.

“Daddy has one, right?” he signed shyly. "I got chalk on it and he made me clean it."

Relief washed over Sig, strong enough to make the breath catch in his lungs. He left the chair to crouch in front of Mar and tweaked his nose affectionately. “That’s right! You colored all over his Seal and he couldn't stop laughing. You remembered!"

Sig smoothed the child's wild hair. "Your daddy is very worried about you, kiddo, and he misses you so much. I need to call him and tell him you’re safe.”

For the first time that evening, Jak looked up from where he’d been obsessively disassembling and cleaning his gun. “The kid still has family?”

Daxter hopped off of the dog’s back and hoisted himself up to the table. “Then why’s everyone act like Praxis murked the old king? If you’re gonna back a king for your underground, wouldn’t you want the one that’s old enough to drive?”

“With the way Praxis is hunting Mar, how’d his dad get away? Why’d he leave his kid?” Jak demanded.

If Jak had been anyone else, Sig might’ve knocked him out for implying that Mar had been in any way abandoned. But Jak had a host of hurts wrapped up inside him, and at this point Sig couldn’t blame him for jumping to worst-case scenarios.

Sig’s mother probably would’ve said “nothing the desert can’t fix”, but he thought this would probably take more than a little sun and sand.

“Leave him?” Sig scowled and shook his head. “Mar was kidnapped, cherry. Somebody rigged a transport ring and snatched him right out from under our noses in the dead of night.”

Some of the fight went out of Jak. “Oh,” he said quietly, and looked away. “That…that’s terrible.”

With a heavy sigh, Sig leaned back in his chair. “Yeah. We still don’t know who did it, but it’s similar enough to how you got into Haven that I have some suspicions.”

Daxter glanced at Jak, who had stiffened. “Uh…you don’t think maybe Kor snagged junior, do ya? The pooch sure didn’t like him.”

Maybe Kor had taken the little boy to give the Underground a legitimate claim to the throne, or access to the Precursor Stone. The boys had worked with Torn long enough to know that the Underground was just desperate enough to tilt towards a few shady dealing here and there – sending Jak and Tess to work for Krew, for example. It wasn’t out of the range of possibility, unfortunately.

Sig committed the name to memory. Kor, huh? He’d have to pay the fella a visit eventually. But for now, he needed to get the boys out of the room so he could speak to Damas in private. He might’ve had a better understanding now of who Jak was supposed to be, but after all the kid had been through, he didn’t want him overhearing if Damas didn’t take it well.

“Best to leave this talk for when little ears aren’t around,” he said meaningfully. “Would you get this kid to bed?”

Jak fiddled with the pieces of his morph gun for a few more seconds, then begrudgingly agreed. He wiped his hands on his shirt, stood, and waved Mar over.

“C'mon Mar-mar. Bedtime.”

“You oughta get some shut-eye, too,” Sig suggested, cracking a smile at the nickname. “Who knows what Krew might try to send you to do tomorrow.”

He knew Jak didn’t sleep well – if much at all. Some days he staggered into the saloon with circles under his eyes so dark that he looked like he had two black eyes. But Jak would never admit to his exhaustion – or anything else he perceived as weaknesses someone could exploit – even if openly confronted about it. Sometimes, it seemed like Daxter was the only one who could trick him into taking care of himself.

Daxter caught his eye and let out an exaggerated yawn. “Eh, y'know what? Hero work is exhausting. I’m bushed! C'mon Jak, Sig can play with the radio by himself. I need my beauty sleep.”

Winds bless you, Daxter, Sig thought. Aloud, he said, “Kid, I don’t think a beauty sleep is what you want. Weren’t you complaining last night about people pinching your cheeks instead of taking you seriously in the bazaar?”

Daxter narrowed his eyes at him. “Listen, bub, I already know I’m cute! It’s my secret weapon! Nah, people around here don’t take me seriously because I’m COMPLETELY NUDE!”

Sig laughed. “Alright, alright. I’ll see if I can find something you can use for pants next time I’m in the bazaar. Deal?”

“With underpants?” Daxter gasped, “Jak, I think that’s grounds for a life debt, right?”

Jak merely shrugged, more intent on keeping a pouting, squirming, Mar from escaping his grip. Mar, it turned out, was exceptionally good at wriggling out of holds. Jak couldn’t be too upset, he’d been exactly the same when he was little. He caught the little boy halfway through another escape attempt and lifted him by the ankle.

“Nice try.”

Mar shrugged as if to say it was worth a shot. All that squirming seemed to have worn him out at least a little, because when Jak dropped him onto Sig’s spartan bunk, he crawled right under the thin blanket and settled against the wall. The crocodog hopped up, turned in a circle, and settled at Mar’s feet. Both of them looked expectantly at Jak.

“What?”

“Can you stay?” Mar signed, “I don’t wanna have bad dreams.”

Jak opened his mouth to protest, but the kid just looked so small and nervous and-

"Please, Jak-jak?"

Oh. Not fair.

Daxter made the decision for both of them and plopped himself down on the pillow next to Mar. “Alright, move over! Yeesh, Sig sleeps on a pile of rocks. Jak, c'mere!”

“Yeah yeah.” Jak rolled his eyes and fell back on the cot. “One of these days, I’m gonna figure out how to turn you back into a human, and you won’t be able to use me as a mattress anymore.”

He fell asleep not long after, with Mar clinging to one of his arms.

When neither Jak nor Daxter reemerged from his room, Sig finally tuned into the priority channel.

“Lighthouse, this is Sig. Got a weird question for you: did you ever see anything about duplicate timelines when you were studying with the monks?”

After a few tense minutes, the radio crackled and a staticy voice answered.

“Sig, this is Lighthouse. Why are you asking that on the priority channel? You know what this line is meant for.”

“I do, and it’s relevant, I promise. I’m just gonna need an answer before I proceed with the report, or else it’s not gonna make a lot of sense.”

Damas didn’t answer at first, then he sighed harshly in another burst of static.

“Yes, it comes up fairly often in some of the oldest glyphs. The monks think they’re allegories of something.”

“Was there anything about someone from one timeline entering another? Like, one time with two different versions of someone?”

“Sig. Get to the point. Have you found anything or haven’t you?”

Sig groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Well, I’ve got good news, and I’ve got weird news. First and foremost: I’ve got him. I’ve got Mar.”

He winced slightly at the increase in volume when Damas responded.

“You found him?! Where is he? Is he safe? Was he hurt?”

Precursors. Sig hated hearing Damas sound so…lost.

“He’s okay, but he’s scared, and he’s confused. I know it’s been two years, but he still remembers us. My eye, at least. And your amulet,” Sig sighed. “I’m timing the guard rotations so I can get us home before the week is out. But that brings me to the weird news.”

Well, hope he has an open mind…

“Look, there’s no easy or sensible way to say this, so I’m just going to give it to you straight. The Baron…did something. It looks like he used some kind of Precursor artifact and I think he yanked another Mar in out of a different timeline. Probably because our Mar kept giving him the slip like the little escape artist he is. Difference is, this one is sixteen, and he doesn’t remember any of us.”

There was a silence so long that Sig almost thought Damas had hung up on him. Then, in a low growl, “Praxis. Did. WHAT.”

“Yeah. Kid’s been through hell and then some,” Sig replied tersely. “It seems like he doesn't even know he and Mar are the same kid. He goes by "Jak” right now.”

“...define “hell”. Is he hurt?”

Sig shook his head, as though Damas could see him. “On the outside? Boy heals fast. But inside?” His voice cracked, just the slightest bit. “Damas, that kid’s a mess. I don’t know what they did to him in that prison, he won’t open up about it. But I know he almost cried when I taught him how to shave. Acted like nobody’s ever cared enough to even teach him to take care of himself.”

Neither man wanted to contemplate what must have happened in this older Mar’s timeline, nor how close to the same fate their Mar had come before his counterpart found him.

"Get him out of Haven, Sig,” Damas ordered, sounding shaken, “Both of them. I…I need to see this with my own eyes.”

Sig cast a glance back at his quarters, where the boys were sleeping. “You know I will. Just give me a couple days to plan the extraction and we’ll be on our way.”

Provided the Underground or the Baron didn’t do anything stupid.

#jak and daxter #writing prompts #fic prompts #snippet monday #demolition trio au #demolition trio redux #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter sig #jak and daxter mar #previous versions were more from Jak's POV so they didn't pick up on how other characters saw *him*

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dulcesiabits · 2 years

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It’s been a while since the last entry in this series, but here are the author’s notes for i’ve become the villain’s lover, the longest one shot I’ve written to date!

1. I wanted to base each character off of a specific troupe you find in isekai/transmigrator/reincarnator/returning to the past manhwa, though some of them ended up being more similar to their in-game counterparts… here are the inspirations for each character!

Riddle: the cold duke… the one who is feared by everyone, who doesn’t care for romantic dalliances, who is infamous throughout the empire… it’s a very common troupe and I thought it suited Riddle very well!

Leona: the scorned prince is also a popular troupe in manhwa, and fits Leona’s in-game backstory pretty well, huh. Though Leona is scorned not due to an illegitimate heritage but because of the fact he can never live up to his brother, the golden child...

Azul: the head of the information guild… is this not similar to azul’s role in canon or what? There’s not much else for me to say here, either, because Azul’s role speaks for itself!

Jamil: I love Jamil and Kalim’s complicated dynamic a lot, so I focused more on translating that into the fic instead of fitting Jamil into an existing manhwa troupe. There’s not really a troupe for traitorous advisors in manhwa (or maybe there is, and I just can’t think of any at the moment), but Jamil fits in pretty well anyways, I think!

Vil: childcare manhwas are super cute, and while I was struggling on what to write for Vil (there aren’t a lot of popular performer troupes in manhwa, excluding hidden talents who are sponsored by the protag), I thought about this troupe and realized it would be fitting for Vil and Epel! Though they aren’t really father and son so much as mentor and protege… I also added fake dating because why not spice it up a little?

Idia: the head of the magic tower!! The magic tower is such a staple in manhwa even though it’s never really elaborated on most of the time. It’s like oh, the magic tower, everyone knows the magic tower. I also drew on the whole “ml is cursed and only mc can cure them” troupe but thought it would be too cheap if reader just cured Idia by the end after everything Idia went through… what is the cure for his curse? Originally I was going to have it be “true love’s kiss” to reference the cast’s original inspirations (hi fairytales), but then… that opened up too many plot holes! So I don’t have any solutions as of writing this, sorry Idia,,,

Malleus: the crown prince… it fit Malleus’s current status too well! The “royalty sneaks into town and falls in love with a commoner” troupe isn’t manhwa specific but I thought it was cute, anyways, and suited Malleus a lot. Unintentionally his part of the fic ended up being the most romantic and fluffy… I guess it’s because I can’t see him acting hostile whatsoever, unlike the other guys…

2. Originally I toyed with giving the fic a twist ending on why the reader was transmigrated/isekai-ed. for example, I considered the idea that reader was originally from the novel, died and reincarnated into the “real” world, and had their soul called back into the novel because of the villains who loved them (who perhaps lost their memories in the process of bringing them back). Or maybe your friend in the real world is actually Hera Winn from the novel, and had reincarnated with you in an effort to bring your soul back to the novel world. But that became convoluted fast so it’s… all up to interpretation! I didn’t touch on the reason for why reader transmigrated because I think the consequences were more fun to write about, haha.

3. The fic title is also inspired by a lot of manhwas, which usually have their premise directly in the title. I guess it’s a way to grab the reader’s attention while telling them exactly what they’re gonna find in the plot!

4. Though I had reader reject every suitor for the sake of plot (sorry guys), I wanted to make it clear that reader and the villains are very fond of each other. I didn’t have time to write interactions after reader rejected them, but I like to imagine they’re still friends. Reader is very clear to everyone that they have six other rivals… and everyone is, of course, pretty catty to each other… but they’re also all friends! Somehow. Jamil and Azul hang out sometimes, and Vil and Riddle often bump into each other at parties and chat, and so on!

5. What about the other twst characters? Well, they can be eligible bachelors as well if you want! Again, if I tried to write something for them, the fic would have gotten much too long, but if I have time, I might briefly elaborate on their roles and backstories in a different post...

#liya’s author notes #manhwa au #12k words........ took me around five months to get this done....#I hope people like it !!! :3 #this is my new magnus opus

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snailsandpuppy-dogtails · 5 months

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Ouija? Oui Oui

Criminal Minds. Garvez 2,220 words, Clean, Ao3 This is a Halloween story that took a while... over a year, in fact. Stranded in a spooky old house on a stormy night, the team become involved in a game of Ouija, and someone is set on calling Luke out. Is it real, or is it some elaborate prank?

“Really? Rain?! It couldn’t have been an overly clear sky and sunny 75 keeping us grounded in Los Angeles?!” Penelope jiggled as she pouted, holding on to the curtain, watching the storm pelt the ground outside.

From the kitchen entry Luke watched on, grinning at her antics.

They weren’t really in Los Angeles, not in the city proper anyway. They were in one of the rapidly disappearing, still out of the way, not-quite booming agricultural towns. It was a town so small and remote there was no cause for lodgings, never had been. The people who came here were family and farm workers. Being here was never an accident, and it was certainly not a vacation. If you were here, there was a purpose.

Their purpose had come to a close with an exceptionally rare “good” ending; no lives lost, all missing found. But a freak storm and the only road out washing away left the team stuck. As a result, they had graciously been put up for the night by the sheriff in the old victorian farmhouse owned by her family.

It was drafty, and creaky, and kind of creepy, but it had enough beds to sleep the whole team and all the comforts of a home, so Penelope couldn’t really complain. Still, she would have liked it better if they’d been tucked up cozy on the jet back to DC rather than stuck there.

Sensing her discomfort, wanting to lighten things up, distract her, Luke did what he seemingly did best and reached to push for her buttons. Calling forth some of his early undermining, he goaded her from across the room, “You think perfect weather would prevent us from getting home, Garcia?” He watched her body perk, biting his cheek, smirking as she rounded.

“Oh what, are you a Meteorologist now?” Penelope shot back, turning to face him.

Sighing, JJ cut them off, “I’m just bummed we don’t have anything to play…it seems like it’s been a lifetime since we were all together for a game night.”

“Come on, we have Scrabble. Don’t think we can play with six people and 34 tiles?” Emily teased.

Spencer’s head cocked considering it, “We could do teams”

A silence fell as everyone looked around noncommittally, not interested in trying, but not wanting to offend him.

After a minute Tara’s eyes lit up, an idea sparking. “It is a perfect night for a seance, you believers could prove us skeptics wrong….Let’s commune.”

“We don’t have a Ouija board and none of us are mediums,” Penelope pointed out. Though she agreed some light (or heavy) messing around would take the creep factor of their current surroundings off her mind, she didn’t mind that they couldn’t play some spooky ghost game, real or fake…

“Ah! But we do have scrabble tiles! We could make one,” suggested Emily. “All we really need are the alphabet and some kind of planchette- we could use an empty glass. When my mom was working in Italy, some friends and I broke into an abandoned villa on the edge of town, we drank stolen wine and one of them made a spirit board from scraps of journal paper and an upside down wine glass; we got tipsy and tried to contact the ghost of a cat.”

Tara grinned, “Sounds settled then, unless you’re all too chicken…”

JJ frowned thoughtfully, considering it, then agreed, “Not the kind of game I was thinking of, but why not.”

“The anecdotal evidence gleaned from the experience could be fun,” said Spencer, “count me in.”

Looking to Luke and Penelope, Tara questioned, “So?”

“Yeah, no, my mother would kill me for ‘intruding on his holy plan.’ ” Luke laughed, walking past the group towards an empty arm chair.

“Aww, I won’t tell mommy if you don’t,“ she teased back.

“Nope. Sorry, Tar. Say what you want, but we deal with the dead too much already, I don’t plan on tempting it. I’ll sit this one out, read a book.”

“Come on, Luke, it’s just a game.” JJ, coaxed.

“Actually, that’s still debatable,” said Spencer, “it had to be “proven” to work at the Patent Office before its patent was allowed to proceed; and today, even psychologists believe that it may offer a link between the known and the unknown.”

“Thank you, Spencer.“

Penelope, who had initially been teetering on the ‘no’ side of the fence as well, suddenly had a do-daring change of heart at Luke’s insistent refusal. Looking between the two men, she smirked as if having won something and announced brightly, “Unlike scaredy-cat Luke, I’m in.”

Luke scoffed, smiling, and shook his head, then put up both hands.“I heard you had been practicing,” wiggling his fingers, and winked at her before turning to unzip his backpack.

Penelope glared, but said nothing, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of cluing the rest of the team in on what he was referring to. “Let’s just start.”

The tiles clattered to the table scattering, deft hands quickly arranging them alphabetically in two arcs of 13. Everyone but Luke having taken a place kneeling around the table, Tara called out one last time, “Last chance Alveeez”

Luke, mind made up, simply held up the book he’d plucked from his bag, “I’m good, have fun.”

For a moment everyone sat, not really sure who or how to get started.

“What’da we ask?”

“Well, we should start with hello, then something simple, like…Is anyone here?” suggested Emily, digging back into her memory.

As the question was stated the lights flickered and the temperature dropped, JJ glanced to Tara, a wry smile exchanging between the two, “Looks like a yes already.”

A light nervous hum pulled from Penelope’s lips, “Jennifer Jareau, Know that if I can’t sleep tonight, you won’t be either-“

Emily rolled her eyes disapprovingly at the pair of instigators, “It’s just the storm, Penelope.”

“She’s right,” agreed Spencer, “A house this old is bound to have some bad or broken wiring. It’s likely faulty and therefore more likely to get a short in inclement weather.”

But as his words were assuaging the creeping feeling growing across her skin, all hands on the base of the glass felt the cup start to glide from letter to letter. Slowly, the cup dragged across the tiles, “H-E-Y”

Stopping, Emily laughed, “Hey? Wouldn’t you know, A modern ghost.”

Just as smooth, “Y-O-U- B-E-T” emerged under the flowing cup.

Suspicious, skeptically amused looks were traded around the table.

“Good or bad?“ “Do we know you?” toppled, one over the other.

The makeshift planchette remained still, as if whoever were in control were thinking, then whipped to L, down horizontally to U, up and over to K, then zipped backward, finishing on E. Reading it, all eyes went to the man sinking into the chair, into the book in his hands.

“Luke?” Spencer stated, perplexed, glancing from face to face around the table. This was undoubtedly a prank. Spencer tried to read their micro-expressions, decide who it could be. Tara had been the one most insistent that Luke join, but Emily was good at covering things up, JJ was a proven good liar, but she was about as likely as Matt to pull someone in to a game they said they didn’t want to play. It obviously wasn’t Penelope unless she was really playing up the misdirection. Everyone’s fingers touched the base of the glass, so he couldn’t rely on proximity to help in deductions.

Barely looking up from the book, Luke called, head inclined, “Look, I told you I’m not-“

Before he finished, all hands on the glass were pulled back in a repeat of the pattern, “L-U-K-E,” this time Tara called out the letters as they covered them. JJ’s mouth dropped open and her fingers briefly lifted. Emily, much like Spencer, was now discretely inspecting her friends.

Closing his book, Luke indulged them, calling over his shoulder, “Ha ha, very funny. Are you all enjoying yourselves?”

Confused, uneasy faces slowly shook their heads, denying they had been the one, “-It’s not me“ Tara insisted, “It’s not us,” repeated JJ.

Penelope, now believing it absolutely was some elaborate prank she wasn’t in on, called out sweetly, continuing, “Do you know Luke?”

“H-E-Y- B- E- A- U- T- I- F- U- L- Y- E- S”

“Ooo, familiar and flirty,” she cooed

“Yeah, too bad he’s dead,” JJ said through a smile.

A huff and the obvious sounds of shifting legs drifted from Luke’s direction. Emily’s brow furrowed, challenging, “Friend or foe?” She still wasn’t sure who it could be; if it was a game, or if this was real. The air in the room felt electric, she was no stranger to some unexplainable things, but Tara was right, this was a perfect opportunity for some spooky fun, something she absolutely did not put past either JJ or Tara indulging in at Luke’s expense.

“N-O-M-A-T-C-H” was smoothly guided as a response.

“Nomatch?” Spencer said to himself, head tilting, puzzled.

“Uh, I think it’s ‘no match?’ ” JJ clarified.

Luke had been trying to ignore them, immersing himself with the Bennet sisters training as Zombie killers (the modern YA takes on classics were a guilty pleasure), but icy air suddenly settled on his shoulder, a hand resting just so.

That was different.

The second the letters were read out it pulled his attention like a string tugging from his ear, the minute the words were spoken Luke’s hair stood on end.

‘No match,’ why did that sound familiar?

The thought was interrupted by Tara, sitting up on her knees, calling over, “Maybe it’s one of your old ranger buddies looking for a light”

In a flurry, their hands ripped back and forth, “N-O- M-A-T-C-H- F-O-R- P-E-N-E-L-O-P-E- H-U-H”

As they reached the L Penelope let go, a sick shiver chasing down her spine. While she didn’t mind helping mess with Luke, she did not appriciate being included this way.

Luke’s head snapped up from the book, his eyes catching hers from across the room.

They were fucking with him, fine, but not Penelope, not-

The corner of his mouth twitched, he remembered exactly why those words were familiar, and seeing her look, though he knew she’d never heard him say it, knew she was looking to him for an answer. If Luke had bothered to look at the other sets of eyes on him, he would have found a similar piqued curiosity coming from around the room, evidence that, no, no one here was doing this.

Emily cut to JJ and then across to Tara, looking for any sign that one of them might be the one pulling something, but there was no tell, faces just as surprised as her own.

Spencer stated with a grin what he felt was the obvious joke the prankster had in mind, “It’s definitely someone very familiar with your relationship with Garcia.”

Smiling briefly, then schooling his features, Luke glanced down, watching as the hands still on the cup moved easily, “N-O- W-O-R-D-S- C-O-M-M-U-N-I-C-A-T-O-R”

He didn’t want to be a part of this. He actively had chosen not to be a part of this. And yet, here he was being dragged in to it. Forced into it. It was just like Phil to put him on the spot and not drop it. Luke heated at the truth to the implied accusation.

Phil knew.

He’d likely known all along. And now, even dead, he was taunting him over it.

Luke’s eyes narrowed, but his mouth quirked, and his head twisted in disbelief, slowly the word falling out on a breath, “-sorry.” But he didn’t say it to her, he didn’t say it to anyone in the room- any body in the room anyway.

“N-O-M-A-T-C-H” Each hand felt the tug and pull, each thinking less and less that it was another leading the message.

His head shook, staring at the tiles, this couldn’t be happening. More importantly, he couldn’t let her know it was happening. “I know-“

“D-O-N-T- B-L-O-W- I-T”

The glass stopped, Penelope tugged her hand away, protectively cupping it to her chest with the other. JJ looked from Emily to Tara, then from Penelope to Luke, “…You…wanna fill us in?”

Penelope looked to JJ, Luke’s gaze cast down then flowed up and over the faces around the table. Slowly, his shoulder raised, “What? I was playing along. Just…messing around, right?”

“So -you- were joking? Even though you refused to join us? I don’t buy it-“

“Yeah, I thought you believed in this whole ghost-afterlife-supernatrual-unexplainable. I mean, you think the BAU is haunted.”

“Okay, 1. the BAU is haunted, Rossi agrees, and 2., what? I’m supposed to accept that the one person you couldn’t con into playing was the one person with a visitor from the other side? I may believe in ghosts, but I’m not that easy.”

He was lying, of course, but none of them needed to know that. As long as he insisted he was playing along, no one could say he wasn’t. As long as it was a game, he wouldn’t have to tell Penelope why he’d lied to her about Phil, he wouldn’t have to admit why he lied to Phil about Penelope, and he wouldn’t have to think about why he didn’t want them together, even back then…

#garvez #criminal minds #fanfiction #penelope garcia #luke alvez #Phil Brooks #tara lewis #spencer reid #emily prentiss #jj #snails tales #ao3

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mamuzzy · 5 months

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From your angst prompt list I'd like to ask for Fives x Deadshot! <3

With either:

"I'm the only one who gets to decide if someone deserves me, and I can confidently say you are that someone who does"

or:

"You're right, I do deserve better"

Depending on how much angst you wanna put into it 😈

Oooooooh boy. Oooooh boy. You really gave me a challenge here @ithillia. But you also made me write the first debut of my babyblorbo in a fanfiction, you can't imagine how happy I am that I could finaly made it happen <3 It took a time while I figured it out how I integrate the lines into the fic without sounding OOC or off but I think I'm satisfied with the outcome. I hope you will like it too <3 PREPARE FOR HEARTBREAK!!! So in the end I went with

"I'm the only one who gets to decide if someone deserves me, and I can confidently say you are that someone who does"

Summary: Captain Rex had enough with Deadshot's digging into the past and decided it's time to have a conversation neither of them wished to have. Word count: 2446 Rating: Mature, no explicit content, characters swear. Talking about a dead person and grief. Characters: ARC Trooper Deadshot, Captain Rex, ARC Trooper Fives Relationship: FivesShots (cloneship) Warning: Splitting. The characters are emotionally conspitated and have mentalhealth problems. NO BETA. Additional tags/tropes: Fives is Rex's adopted son, Fives and Shots is in established relationship, clones speak mando'a (just a little), Deadshot is a little shit. Amnesia due to recondition. AND ANGST. LOTS OF ANGST.

Alright. Here we go. :)))))

“Wanted to speak with me, sir?” asked Deadshot, and since he wasn’t given a permission to sit down, he stood before the Rex’s desk. For his surprise, he was offered a seat.

“Sit” said Rex without looking up from the paperwork.

Deadshot hesitated a bit, he wasn’t comfortable about sitting down to the sligthest but in the end, obliged.The flickering booming of the lights irritated Deadshot just as the silence they had between them, and he couldn’t be sure why he was called the first place. He watched as the captain signed the last datapad, putting away on the top of the organized pile at the right side of the anyway-pristine clean desk. Rex then looked up, straight into his eyes. Dark browns started to squint after the first few second, but in the end - as always -, Rex averted his gaze, cupped his face in one hand until only the furrowed wrinkles were visibe on his forehead which made him look so old, Deadshot almost almost felt sorry for him. Almost. By now everything was clear for Deadshot why was Rex was so hostile with him before but the sweet taste satisfaction and victory killed any compassion he had left for the captain.

“I want you to stop” Rex finaly spoken up, weariness in his tone.

“Sir?” Deadshot scoured the captain for messages wasn’t spoken out loud but he probably should have known without telling.

“This existential crisis of yours.” Oh.

“I have a lot going on, sir, you have to be more specific than that.”

This made Rex come out from hiding, expression exasperated, those dark eyebrows curled disapprovingly. “Don’t be a smartass with me.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Rex leaned in his chairs, hands now rested on the desk, fingers tied together and looked at him once more. And Deadshot stared back with his usual skeptical look on his face, ambery eyes ever-judgeful. He started to notice some patterns when the captain was able to maintaining eye-contact with him, irises shifted toward the left side of the eye, probably have found a spot to stare at instead of him. His ears probably.

“You got your answers now.”

Rex had not ask a question so this time Deadshot didn’t respond, just waited for Rex to elaborate.

“You figured it out, who you were. What have you done. What now? What else do you want?”

Deadshot considered his next words. Rex was right about him, he was still in investigation about his past but for entirely different reason now.

“I need to know why I had to die, sir.”

“You know it very well.”

“And I think that’s a lie, sir. I have a gut-feeling about it and…”

“I don’t give damn about your gut-feeling, Deadshot” said Rex harshly. Deadshot was tempted to say that he also didn’t give a damn about Rex’s opinion but, swallowed and just stared into those brown eyes, just to spite him in hope he can manage secure another victory of dominance again. But Rex didn’t turned his face away, not this time, because Rex continued speaking.

“These brilliant gut-feelings of yours will be our downfall one day. Have you ever considered what would happen if someone recognizes you? Do I really need to lock you up in the solitary everytime I can’t keep my eye on you? Maybe you had forgotten what would have happened if someone recognized you on Coruscant?!”

“Sir…?”

“You almost got us killed with that stunt.”

Deadshot couldn’t say anything. Deep inside his mind he knew Rex was right, right about this one at least, but still, the captain shouldn’t have to state it like he was deliberately wanted to ruin the muster with that panic attack. He felt those few bites of rationbars switching places in his stomach. He had to endure it.

“I risk everything” Rex continued. “Everything, my company, my men, my only son remained, the very trust of General Skywalker put in me, to cover your shebs.”

“I’ve never asked for this, sir-“

“But you are here, now, in the present. Now that you know why is it important to keep your identity a secret, you are still reckless. You are an ARC Trooper for fuck sake, and I get it, your duty calls you to work alone, but you have responsibilities toward the company and your personal agenda endangers your brothers every time you decide to going after your own head.”

“So convenient of you deciding when I’m one of you and when I’m just a walking ghost of-“

“DON’T!” Rex raised his hand to emphasise on his objection. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear his name, I don’t want to hear that name ever again. He is dead. He was dead to us even when he was alive.”

“So I’ve heard. And with all due respect sir, I don’t give a shit about it” Deadshot felt a sudden surge of confidence, probably came from his anger and he felt he really wanted to flood Rex with everything he got. “He was an asshole, I get it. For every sin he committed against the Republic, against you against his batchmates, I have to suffer ten times, wielding this burden like it was mine all alone and you know what? It is. It’s mine alone. Maybe I deserve to be treated like shit, maybe I deserve to be spitted on because the face I have or what it represent to those… what, like, three people who actually recognized me?” Deadshot counted on his fingers, gesticulating his inner frustration. “And didn’t gave a single cocksucking shit about me when I needed help? You are all cowards.”

Rex rubbed his forehead again, mouth pressed like he was in pain, stifled any emotion that was about to come out.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” asked Deadshot, confused.

“For not being a good commander for you.”

Deadshot expression distorted by spiteful bitterness faded away, left only cautios skepticism. He finally got to tell him everything this time. His anger, his disappointment in him, the words just flowed like sluice opened to ease the waters behind it before breaking out, under supervision and control. He never would have hoped for such opportunity. His whole body felt the tension, like his inner self scratched the surface of his skin from behind, but this time it wasn’t the crawling sensation in his veins, hoping for an easing scratch, more like, wanting to detach himself, because he wasn’t sure how would he able to handle these uncharted waters of… finally having the attention of Captain Rex.

“I wasn’t fair with you, right from the start. I have responsibilities toward my men but even if you are… YOU, you are my trooper too.” Rex talked slowly, as if the words were hard to spoke. He wanted to be elsewhere, it would have been better to be outside, fight a fight and dying in the process, anything but not to be here. “I don’t know how, or why, but you were given a second chance and you are wasting it away by chasing demons of the past. Like I said, your past-self is dead. You have to move on, HELL, I HAVE TO MOVE ON but I can’t. But I have to. So should you! You don’t have to live with the memories you don’t even have, but I HAVE by looking at you, the way you walk, the way you fight, the same way you stare with those fucking judgmental eyes, your fucking eyes…” and Rex look straight into those eyes.

And Deadshot couldn’t bear to look back. He lowered his head, watchings his own hands fidgeting furiously in his lap. The silence stretched, the lamp still flickered.

“I’m also aware that you fuck my ad.”

Deadshot nearly chocked on air, positioning himself into a more comfortable stance on the chair, and couldn’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh.

“What does Fives has to with this?” asked after he managed to spit out coherent words.

“Everything” stated Rex, more confidently than he was in the whole conversation. “If you choose to continue down this road instead of listening to me, I want you to leave Fives out of it.”

“Sir, maybe I shouldn’t be the one you lock up in the solitary” Deadshot grinned nastily. “Wherever I go, he’ll follow. Nothing I can do about it.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m talking about.

”Sir?” Deadshot suddenly felt sick, the nauseous feeling that the known world is suddenly crumbling around him piece by piece again made his stomach turned 180 degree with a violent slam. Endure.

“With that face of yours and death lingering around, you’ll never have a chance to get promoted. Not if we want to keep your identity safe. Not if I want to keep my men alive. Fives, he has bright future ahead. Has potential to become a leader one day, much better than I ever was. Don’t take this away from him.”

Endure. Endure. Endure.

“But, sir…” Deadshot’s voice rasped, almost like a whisper. “But you just said…”

“When the war’s over, I can reassign you to somewhere else. Soldiers always needed, especially away from the Core. You can live in peace, nobody would bother you, nobody would search for you, we can… Cody knows a vod, he would just erase your whole existence from the database. This is… is the only thing I can offer to help you.”

If Rex told him anything after that, Deadshot couldn’t remember. Rex wanted to hide him. Away from his friends, his vode, his… FIVES, the very thought of being separated from Fives made him think swallowing a thermodetonator, this time, to finish the job the clankers couldn’t do last time but he also had to remind himself, that the clankers never shot him, the clankers never blown him up, it weren’t the clankers who gave him amnesia in the first place -endureENDUREENDURE-, but whatever, killing himself was a better option than living a solitary life away from his loved one!!! It’s not about the promotions, not about being treated specially, it…

He believed, he genuinly wanted to believe in Rex that maybe… maybe there was a future for him even without his memories, they were actually having a normal conversation for the first time and it turned out it was actually an elaborate “nice commander talk” to… to what…?

But despite all of this, Rex was right, Deadshot knew it deep in his gut. The fucking gut-feeling. It’s logical. Completely understandable concern. Fives is daddy’s little boy, even with all the mischief and fooling around, Fives still had a chance to become someone great, if not from his own, then he got protection, from Rex, from the General, from the Chancellor himself, this elaborate network of interest could make it happen for Fives to have a good life after the war while the same network could destroy everything, not just for Fives but for everyone if he didn’t stay put… and he… and he… He was supposed to be dead to begin with.

— x —

0500 standard, his inner clock was always punctual. Deadshot laid on bed, eyes open, stared at the bunk wall. He wanted to sleep but his thoughts already raced into his darkest part of the mind right after being conscious, felt empty yet so weary at the same time, he just couldn’t make himself move and get his gear to visit the shooting range. He just couldn’t. The others were still sleeping, Jesse’s sudden snorts and Tup little pup sounds while turning to his other side broke the silent darkness.

Someone moved eventually, fumbled with the blankets, then barefooted steps, a mild sway during walk… Fives, thought Deadshot. Steps became louder as Fives approached his bed. The mattress slumped under one knee and Deadshot’s felt his own blanket lifted and the sudden cold made him shiver, cowered himself more with his hands. But the cold feeling faded as Fives’ hot, naked upper body pressed onto his back, carefully cover them with the blanket to keep the remaining heat inside and comfortably snuggled to his lover’s nape. When Deadshot’s stiffened body loosened in his touch, Fives embraced him, fingers slowly entwining on the former’s chest.

“Hey” Fives whispered, not to wake up the others and breathed a little kiss on the neck. Deadshot didn’t answer.

“You are skipping the morning routine again” Fives pushed.

“I don’t feel like it now.”

“Four days in a row” and since Deadshot was nitpicky about what to answer, Fives continued. “And you’re avoiding me.”

Endure, Deadshot reminded himself. Endure. He felt a familiar, hot stinging in the corner of his eyes. Fingers between fingers, Fives drew calming lines into the calloused skin.

“Alright. I won’t push. I… I just miss you. And wanted to tell you” Fives lifted himself a bit, positioning himself to reach Shot’s ear. “I love you.”

Deadshot began to tremble, he needed all his willpower not to open his mouth and let his sobbing out like an explosion. He didn’t wanted to be heard, he didn’t want Fives hear him, and definitely didn’t want the others hear him. He felt Fives hand tightening, his head bored to his, whispering calming words.

“Hey, hey, cyare, what’s wrong? Shhh… it’s okay… it’s okay…”

It wasn’t okay, nothing was okay.

“I don’t deserve you” said Deadshot with weak whimper through gritted teeth. Fives gasped at this declaration in disbelief and concern, his calming touches stopped for a moment. Tried to take it heartlightedly, take is as Deadshot usual “crisis-thing”.

“Hey… what’s with that answer?” He chuckled. “You have to say it back.”

But Deadshot couldn’t. The trembling won’t stop, every sweet reassuring words were daggers pierced through his chest, his brain, his teary eyes. The same hands kept him safe for a moment but now he only felt numb inside the embrace. Deadshot’s soundless cry, stiffled sniffing made Fives heart ache for him.

“You know what?” Fives spoke again with the same patience. “I’m the only one who gets to decide if someone deserves me, and I can confidently say you are that someone who does.” Fives hoped maybe his lover become eased by the little joke, maybe saying back something snarky, unimpressed remark about he is able to compliment HIMSELF while compilenting others, but it didn’t happen.

The ARC trooper smalls repressed hiccups turned into miserable whimpering, and his grip on Fives’s hand became so strong, it started to hurt, but Fives didn’t pulled his hand away, this pain was so little what must had Deadshot felt right now, Fives knew in his guts. He decided maybe… maybe he would just stay here, a voiceless-support until Deadshot was ready to talk.

#Original Clone Character: Deadshot #Captain Rex #Arc trooper fives #fivesshots #cloneship #clonecest #cloneshipping #the clone wars #star wars #mamuzzy writes stuff

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