#the space wives have to win

[dipperscavern]

Lord dippy!! Congrats on 1k they're soooo well deserved <3 you're ensuring the safety and well-being of your people (stark men's wives) and keeping us warm and well-fed (writing tons of amazing stuff), without you we'd never manage to survive trough the unforgiving long winter (the lack of good fanfics & blurbs)...anyways :3 may I humbly ask for an angst/comfort blurb with Jon?? In my mind he never left Winterfell and was forever happy with his alive siblings and he never had to feel like a bastard outsider. he didn't deserve all dat

hi baby!! this was so sweet omg thank you so much :( i hope you enjoy <3 (spoiler alert i got carried away) (as per usual)

jon snow x gn!reader

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jon winces, a small noise emitting from his throat as pain seeps up his torso.

his cuts run deep; they’ll scar, melisandre says, but stannis’ closest thing to a maester insists on jon using a paste and bandages to allow them to heal. the paste certainly helps, but it still aggravates the skin when applied — no matter how soothing it was crafted to be.

the process is dreadful. it took minutes of him staring at the marks where he knows his blood left him, hesitation clawing up his throat before he worked up the ability to even begin. the open wounds have scabbed over, allowing the paste to coat them, but to jon, it doesn’t make the sight any prettier. he thinks the marred flesh a grisly spectacle.

memory of his fathers words echo in the back of his mind. lord eddard stark always appreciated scars on a man, saying it not only told a story, but spoke of how they survived it. a sick part of jon wishes there was no story of survival to tell.

a sharp intake of air passes through his lips as his hands shake, making his movements sloppy — accidentally pressing on the sensitive area more than he wished. he remembers when arrows pierced his skin, having a similar maintenance process as this; only these daggers wound unseen layers.

a knock on the door brings him out of his thoughts. it’s soft, tentative. he knows who it is before your honeyed voice rings from behind it. “Jon?”

he hums in question. “Can I come in?”

a second passes, a brief thought of covering himself enters his mind — a flash of insecurity pooling in his gut. it’s you, he reasons. but a different voice raises the question, would you reject the ugly parts of him?

his eyes flicker to his abdomen, another part of him now unworthy.

against his own better judgement, he hums in approval. he doesn’t turn to face you as the door opens; that small, aching part of him always wins one way or another.

he hears you turn the lock after you come in. he pretends not to know it’s because you realize he’s compromised, and you’re the only person he’d let see him like this. if he acknowledges it in full, he doubts his ability to keep his breathing steady — and these days his hands shake enough already.

another thumb-smooth of paste over a gash, another sharp ache. he grits his teeth in effort to conceal any noises that threaten to escape him. not in your company, not now. the atmosphere since his prominent death and return is tense as is.

unfortunately for him, you’re far too attentive to let it go unnoticed. a small turn of his head, and he sees your look of worry; the way your fingers grasp one another, no doubt in attempt to keep your qualms to yourself. it doesn’t work, it never has. not when it comes to jon, anyway.

“Jon, please let me help you.” a plea, a whisper of comfort you wish to offer him in the form of your saccharine hands. even as children, you insisted on bandaging his small cuts. putting cream on his bruises, dutifully checking on them until healed.

he stills. his voice a low, quiet rasp. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” your voice comes closer, and he feels you enter his space. what he wouldn’t give to make sure you never leave. “I want to. Can I?”

your hand wraps around his bicep, thumb moving slowly across his skin. a small, soothing touch that sends a warm feeling crawling up his spine. he’s lucky you don’t face him now, as you’d see the way his lashes have fluttered shut. such a seemingly simple thing you give him, and it makes his breath hitch all the same.

it doesn’t take much lately to set his emotions in disarray, and your touch is the only thing that helps. you seem to know this too, for your hands seek him now more than ever — and he would be a liar if he said he doesn’t cling to the respite you bring him like a lifeline.

his agreeance is nearly unheard, a small murmur accompanied by an even smaller nod. jon’s always had a hard time accepting help, especially it in the form of gentle touches and kind words; the kind he thinks himself undeserving of.

but you know jon. you know what he needs, even if he can’t bring himself to ask for it.

you press a small kiss to his bare shoulder, moving to stand in front of him. goosebumps trail his body at the feeling of your lips, and he bites back the want to close his eyes. he wants to savor the feeling, but he cherishes the moments gets to admire you even more.

your brows pinch ever so lightly when you see his abdomen, even with some of the severed skin already covered in paste. though you take the bowl harboring the medicine, a pang of embarrassment courses through him at your disdain. when your fingers reach to make contact, he expects pain, but none ever comes.

you touch him with a gentleness thats featherlight, and he subconsciously relaxes under your fingertips. he feels like his senses are on overdrive, feeling every touch, every breath. every unspoken word communicated through your treatment of him.

the silence is comforting, even as you frown. all of jon’s attention is on you, so much so that he doesn’t even feel the usual dull ache of torn skin healing itself. even so, you can’t seem to help yourself.

you whisper an apology, a hesitant confession. one that jon is caught off guard by. he almost doesn’t know what you mean, until he tears his gaze away from your expression enough to notice yours is trapped on the place where four daggers took his life. something clicks into place for him.

he stops your hand, his own wrapping around your wrist. not harshly, jon never is. “Hey,” he says. your eyes meet his. “You didn’t do this.”

though not directly said aloud, you know his true meaning. he doesn’t like when you apologize for things that aren’t your fault. even in his current state, he’s ever quick to reassure. “Y’ hear me?”

you nod, and while it’s not enough to remove the pity from your gaze, you don’t have that guilty look in your eye — like you did something wrong. jon knows you carry his death on your shoulders, even when the weight isn’t yours to bear.

he brings your wrist to his lips, kissing it before allowing you to continue. he can see the ghost of a smile grace your lips, and that’s enough for him.

minutes pass like that; you, tending to his wounds with the touch of embodied delicacy, and him, soaking up every piece of you he can. jons content to spend a lifetime in this very moment.

his wish isn’t granted, and soon, he’s reaching for fresh bandages. deja-vu of the arrows shot by a red archer lingers in the back of his mind, but the back is where it stays, as you’re forefront. always.

when he’s finished wrapping the white material, he turns to face you. “You don’t have to do that. Again.”

“Do you not want me to?” you’re sincere in your asking, and he knows you wouldn’t if he asked you not to — but he doesn’t, and his silence is telling.

you can’t help the small smile at his lack of words, and when you smile, jon can’t help but follow suit. mere days from being released from the strangers clutches, and you have him smiling. you’re a godsend. angelic. he’d tell you so if he could ever find the words.

but you’ve never relied on things only spoken. you step forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek and wrapping your arms around him; careful to avoid your torso touching his. jon’s appreciative of your effort, but he’s less hesitant, pulling you flush to him regardless. his head finds the crook of your shoulder, and he has no intent on letting you go anytime soon — unless there’s another knock on the door.

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[haddonfieldwhore]

talk me down - vince dunn

vince dunn x gender neutral! reader

summary: after a late game penalty and a frustrating shootout loss, vince is in a bad mood. good thing he has you to make him feel better

warnings: mentions of violence, langauge, angry vinny, a bit of angst but mostly fluff

word count: 1.2k

as the whistle blew with only a few minutes left in overtime, you ran a hand over your face in frustration as a penalty was called on your boyfriend, vince dunn, for deliberately whacking another player with his stick. while there should have been a call for the opponent holding and tripping vince, the way that vince had reacted was unnecessary. you’re making it worse, you thought, as he punched fiala in the face, nearly hitting him with his stick before the refs separated them. even in the stands you could hear dunn swearing his head off, and you were shocked he didn’t get more than a 2 minute penalty for what he’d done. thankfully los angeles wasn’t able to take advantage of the extra man on the ice and score a goal, but things went to the shootout and eventually the game ended in favour of the kings.

a cloud of disappointment hung heavy in the air of climate pledge arena as kraken fans filed out, without a win but still with a point as the players left the ice. you sighed as you stood up from your seat, the other players wives and girlfriends who had been at the game also getting up to go find their partners. they were talking about the game, and while you could have joined their conversation, you were more concerned with vince. you made your way to the back and waited impatiently for him to come out of the locker room.

after what felt like forever - the team surely having had a long talk with their coach about the events of the game - a familiar curly haired brunette emerged from the doorway, a scowl on his face.

“hey,” you said softly as you stood up, walking over and grabbing his hand gently. to your surprise he didn’t pull it away, but didn’t say anything, simply tilting his head in the direction of the exit. getting the message that he just wanted to go home, you nodded, walking with him out to your car and getting in the drivers seat, and the two of you began a silent drive home.

when you arrived home to his house, he went straight upstairs without a word, and you heard the sound of a door slamming upstairs as he disappeared into your shared bedroom. you grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, your fingers anxiously tapping the granite counter tops as you sighed. you hated seeing him like this; beyond frustrated and tired. you knew he would never do anything to hurt you, you also understood that it was best to give him some space and time to cool down when he got like this. you took a seat on the sectional in the living room and scrolled through different apps on your phone, avoiding anything you saw about the game. about 15 minutes went by before you began to yawn, and decided to head upstairs to find vince.

as you walked into the bedroom, you saw him laying face down on the bed, his head at the wrong end. his one arm was hanging over the edge while the other was folded under his head like a pillow. he had discarded his clothes except for his sweatpants, and you admired the toned muscles of his back that were on display as he lay turned away from the door. it was clear he had just collapsed onto the bed, the blanket barely covering his legs and crumpled from being kicked aside. you quietly got changed into some shorts and one of vince’s t-shirts, before padding over to the bed and sitting down next to him.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his arm and the mattress. reaching towards him you brushed your fingers through his messy curls, shaking your head, though he couldn’t see you.

“you don’t have to apologize to me,” you assured him.

“i still am.”

“i know,” you replied, moving closer to him as you let your hands travel down to his shoulders, gently massaging the tense muscles. he shivered slightly at the feeling of your hands on the back of his neck, but then sighed softly as you worked at the knots in his back, trying to relieve some of the tension from the game. you spent about 10 minutes in silence, and you were honestly beginning to think vince had fallen asleep, until he spoke again.

“i’ll be lucky if i don’t get suspended or fined,” he said, groaning softly as you kneaded a particularly sore spot on his lower back.

“yeah,” you agreed cautiously. “i’m sorry, vinny; i really don’t know what to say.”

“now who’s apologizing?” he laughed dryly, and while it was bittersweet, it was the first hint of a smile you’d heard in his voice all night. “i fucked up, i have to deal with the consequences.”

“that’s true. but they should have called a penalty on the other guy.”

“yeah well i guess they thought otherwise. i didn’t exactly make the situation any better. i think i owe joey an apology for sending us to the shootout,” he gave another halfhearted laugh.

“i wouldn’t say it’s your fault it went to a shootout. give me your other arm,” you instructed, having finished massaging the arm you could reach. vince rolled over onto his back, looking up at you as he extended his right arm into your lap.

“i guess it doesn’t matter in the end,” he sighed, watching you as your hands ran up and down his bicep, soothing the tired aching beneath his skin.

“you guys still got a point,” you said optimistically, trying to look on the bright side of a shitty end to the night. vince smiled at you, the admiring gaze going unnoticed as you continued pampering him.

“yeah,” he mumbled, as you lifted his hand, playing with his fingers gently. “thank you.” you finally looked at him, his eyes tired but full of love as he stared back at you.

“anytime,” you smiled warmly, and giggling softly as vince opened his arms for you to crawl into. you laid down next to him, letting him pull you into his side as he stared up at the ceiling. you closely admired each freckle and detail of his face, and if life were a cartoon your eyes would have had hearts popping out of them.

“i love you,” you spoke quietly, placing a few kisses on his cheek. he turned his face toward you, your foreheads pressing together as he bumped his nose against yours softly.

“i love you,” he whispered. “i don’t know what i would do without you,” he admitted, kissing the tip of your nose, and then your forehead before pulling you closer, tucking your head under his chin.

“you’d have a stiffer back for one-“ you were interrupted by your own laugh as he tickled your side, and you smiled as you curled your body into him, inhaling the scent of his body wash that lingered on his skin from his post-game shower. “okay - okay i’m done.”

“goodnight baby,” he squeezed you tightly in his arms before reaching over and turning off the lamp next to the bed. a wave of tiredness washed over you as the darkness in the room enveloped you, and you quickly fell asleep.

vince laid awake for a little while, listening to the tiny snores that fell from your lips as you slept. whatever repercussions were to come from tonight, and whether they had lost the game or not, he had you, and that was a win in his mind.

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[withacapitalp]

Stuff Me, Hug Me, Take Me Home

@stevesbipanic B HAPPY VALENTINES!!! Tis I! Your secret admirer!!! I loved this prompt and I had so much fun with it thank you so much and I hope you love it!!! Special thanks to @thefreakandthehair and @hairstevington for listening to be a little feral and insane about the first thing I'm writing in a very long time

Read on AO3 instead

If there was one place Eddie never expected to end up at on Valentine’s Day, it was the mall. 

When Steve had asked to ‘take point’ this year, Eddie had imagined a day at the lake, maybe a secret picnic, perhaps even a scenic road trip. Something that was their style. A tucked away moment, quiet and held close, so it belonged to just the two of them. 

There was no way the mall - the epicenter of American greed and capitalistic cannibalism - would have that. 

“I can’t believe I found this parking spot!” Steve crowed, tossing Eddie a winning smile as he threw the car into park and grabbed his phone from where it was charging, “Wasn’t that lucky?”

“Sure, Stevie,” Eddie agreed, trying to hide his disdain, but definitely failing given the way Steve’s smile dipped. The mall loomed over them, blocking out the sun with its oppressively boxy architecture, and Eddie couldn’t help his own glow starting to dim. 

The day had started so promisingly. Steve had woken up early and slipped out of bed without Eddie realizing, coming home with ludicrously over decorated heart shaped donuts and coffee from their favorite bakery. They had traded lazy sugar-filled kisses, cuddling and watching Labyrinth. 

Hell, Steve had even managed to almost hide how much he disliked the movie, commenting on David Bowie’s ass and conveniently ignoring the plot and puppets. He hadn’t even texted Robin all morning!

And now…well now they were at the mall. 

“Are we going to a movie or something? We could’ve just gone to The Hawk. You know IMAX movies give me headaches.” Eddie said as they exited the beemer. Steve came around the front, grabbing Eddie’s hand and squeezing it twice - their signal for needing the other person to listen. 

“Trust me?” Steve offered, chewing on the inside of his lip and giving Eddie the big puppy dog eyes he could never resist. Eddie groaned, grumbling softly to himself as he lifted their joined hands up to his lips. 

“Always,” he whispered back, sealing the promise with a kiss. 

As much as Eddie hated to admit it, the mall actually wasn’t as bad as he had imagined. His brain had conjured up tortuous images of packs of useless husbands trolling around for a cheap gift to pawn off on their wives, or hordes of angsty teens lamenting not having someone to share the holiday with. 

But at almost four in the afternoon it was sleepy, practically dead. And besides, it was hard to look around when Steve was dragging him forward with a single-minded determination. All Eddie could do was try and keep up, shooting glances at his boyfriend to try and catch his eye, wondering why Steve was suddenly loath to meet his gaze. 

Then they were stopping short, Eddie stumbling and nearly tripping as Steve let go of his hand out of nowhere. He righted himself, about to tell Steve off for acting so weird, when he looked up and was struck speechless. 

“You mentioned that you always wanted to go here, but that Wayne never had the money for it,” Steve mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and leaning out of Eddie’s space as he continued to avoid eye contact.

Eddie had told him that, but just once. Only once. He could remember the exact moment. The two of them in the kitchen of their apartment right after the move, unpacking mugs as Eddie told the story of each one and placed it with care on the shelf. It was the last mug, the final story of that night. 

“My dad promised me he would take me to Build-a-Bear for my fifth birthday. And my sixth. And my seventh. By my eighth, I stopped answering when he asked me what I wanted, ‘cause I knew it didn’t matter. By ten I was already living with Wayne, and I didn’t even want to ask him, I knew we couldn’t afford it. Wayne found out anyway, because he’s Wayne, and so he got me this mug for my eleventh birthday, and told me it was an IOU. I don’t even know why I wanted to go to build-a-bear so badly, I just got it in my head that having my own bear would be special. Something that was mine, and always would be, you know?” 

And now here Eddie was, standing in front of an ostentatiously yellow store with his heart settled neatly in his throat. 

“I know it’s kind of silly now, because we’re almost thirty. You might not even care anymore, but I thought maybe it would be a nice Valentine’s Day gift? We could build you a bear, and then you would have him forever and always,” Steve explained, his thoughtfulness continuing to choke Eddie to death. 

Eddie didn’t believe in God, but it was hard to believe there wasn’t something looking out for him. Something had to have given him Steve. There was no way this wonderful, beautiful man just landed in his lap. 

“I’m sorry I-” Steve began, obviously misinterpreting Eddie’s silence. 

“I love it,” Eddie said, cutting off the apology before it could truly begin. 

He couldn’t let Steve doubt this, not even for a single second. Eddie cleared his throat roughly, blindly reaching out and latching onto Steve’s wrist, pulling his boyfriend close and wrapping him in the tightest hug possible as he continued to ramble.

“I do, I love it and I- thank you, Stevie. You’re so- you’re just- thank you, thank you, thank you,” 

“Easy, Eds,” Steve murmured, the tips of his ears turning pink as he pressed their cheeks together and gave Eddie a parting squeeze. Eddie let him pull away, but didn’t let him go, interlocking their fingers as he began to bounce in place. 

“We’re going to Build-a-Bear!” Eddie giggled, his joy beginning to spill all over the place.

Steve nodded, smiling just as brightly as Eddie. But, when Eddie went to pull him forward, Steve held fast, keeping them both in place. 

“There’s just one rule. I don’t want you to look at prices at all. You get whatever you want, however you want it. Got it?” Steve said with a mock stern look. Eddie opened his mouth to agree, then hesitated.

It wasn’t like they were destitute. Between Steve’s job as a sub and Eddie’s work at the garage, they were making good money. But with rent, Steve's tuition, and the regular expenses, they didn’t exactly have a lot of cash to blow on fulfilling a childhood dream. 

“I’ve been saving for this, baby. Been doing extra tutoring on the nights you were with the guys playing dungeons and dorks,” Steve admitted, a pretty blush sitting high on his cheeks. Eddie’s heart clenched up again, and he couldn’t resist dragging Steve into a chaste but forceful kiss. 

“You’re the most amazing partner, you know that, right?” Eddie whispered against his lips. Steve ducked his head, pulling away and squeezing Eddie’s fingers silently as they walked into the store.  

The store was almost empty, even quieter than the mall itself. A couple of parents were watching their daughters giggle over clothes for their new stuffed animals, and a young couple was chatting by the little clawfoot bathtubs in the back, but other than that it was just the two of them. There was some bubblegum pop playing in the background, the kind of thing Steve liked to listen to when he made dinner at night. The sound of it settled Eddie instead of setting his teeth on edge, and he couldn’t help leaning against Steve as they approached the bins of unstuffed bears. 

“Go on, pick your new friend,” Steve said, nudging Eddie forward and taking a step back to watch. 

It was easy to eliminate some choices off the bat. Eddie took away anything that was themed for Valentines, or promotional, and he pretty quickly decided against anything that wasn’t a traditional bear. Normally he would’ve loved the contrarian energy of building a dragon or a unicorn, but he wasn’t just making this for right now. This was also for the little Eddie that had dreamt of having that perfect plush bear to snuggle with at night. 

But the problem was, he had never really imagined what the bear looked like. 

“Help me?” Eddie whined, turning back to Steve who shook his head fondly but walked forward anyway. Steve perused the options for a second before reaching into a bin and pulling out a charcoal black bear with brown eyes.

“What about this one? If you give him a battle vest and a band tee he would be a mini-you,” Steve offered, holding the bear out. Eddie took it, letting his fingers run over the fur and imagining the bear properly stuffed and dressed. 

It was perfect. 

They walked past the bear bins, up to a stand with plastic cases and the words “HEAR ME” above it in bright red letters. 

“Okay, one more rule for today. Cover your ears and turn around,” Steve ordered, putting his hands on his hips and giving Eddie a no-nonsense look. Eddie raised a brow, briefly considering putting up a fight, just for the heck of it. 

But there was something in Steve’s face, a glint in his eyes that just bordered on the edge of panic and a crook in his smile that made it sit not quite straight on his face. Whatever he was doing, it was probably something big. 

So, instead of being a gremlin, Eddie remained obedient, turning on his heel and cupping his ears, humming one of the band’s latest creations for good measure. He managed to get all the way through the first two choruses and up to the bridge before he felt a soft hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes. 

“Time for the best part,” Steve said in a soft sing-song tone, pushing Eddie towards the machine filled with stuffing where an employee was patiently waiting for them. 

“Hi there, guys!” She said with a bright grin, “My name is Rosie, and I’m here to help you bring your friend to life.”

Steve, being the amazing boyfriend he was, somehow sensed Eddie’s hesitancy, speaking for both of them as they got closer. “I’m Steve, and that’s Eddie. It’s his first time here.” 

“That’s so great! Okay so I am going to stuff your new friend exactly how you’d like him, then you’re going to pick a heart out of this box and follow all my instructions,” she explained in a patient but authoritative tone that reminded Eddie so much of Nancy he almost laughed out loud. He willingly handed over the bear, watching as she lined him up with the machine. 

“Firm or soft?” 

“Soft,” Eddie answered automatically, going with his gut. 

Rosie nodded and went through the process of stuffing the bear, methodically filling up each paw and giving them a good squeeze before handing the bear to Eddie for a quick check. 

“Before we do the heart ceremony, do you want to add a smell to your bear? We have some of our scents here, and I can go to the back and get you any one off this list if you want.” She offered as Eddie held his bear close. 

“Remember our rule,” Steve whispered loudly in his ear, and Eddie rolled his eyes, his heart almost filled to the bursting. He pointed out a lemon scent on the list and they watched Rosie leave to grab it. 

“Why lemon?” Steve asked, cocking his head to one side. 

“Reminds me of how the house smells on Sundays,” Eddie replied. “All your favorite cleaning products smell like lemons, and all you drink from May to September is lemonade.” 

“It’s a refreshing smell,” Steve grumbled, not a trace of heat in his tone. Eddie chuckled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Whatever you say, Lemon Boy,” he managed to get out just as Rosie returned, a yellow bear paw held in her hand. 

“Now while I put this in and add some final touches, you choose your heart and then we will do the heart ceremony.” She instructed. 

Eddie peered into the box, his eyes immediately locking onto a plaid heart. He plucked it out, showing it to Steve who couldn’t resist laughing. It was the exact same pattern as the god-awful wallpaper he had in his room when they first started dating, and, without words, they both knew what they were thinking about. 

“Okay, are you ready?” 

Eddie nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Rosie stood in front of them and held out her hands. 

“So you’re going to hold the heart just like this,” she demonstrated, cupping her hands and beginning to rub her palms together, “and you’re going to make the heart all nice and warm and toasty for your new buddy over there!” 

Eddie followed her directions to the letter as she had him flip the heart and tap three times (“To wake up his heart and get it beating!”) and lifted the heart up to the sky and waved it back and forth to give his bear very high hopes. He even turned in a circle, delighting in listening to Steve laugh at his antics. 

This was the exact kind of thing Eddie loved to do most - put on a show and lose himself in being a little silly. 

“Now, rub the heart down your back, that way your buddy always has your back. Rub it down your side, so they stay by your side forever and always. Rub it across your cheeks, so your buddy is always smiling each and every day, and hold the heart to your chest to make a nice big wish!” 

Eddie paused for a second, closing his eyes and taking a second to think. He had lots of wishes. He wished his van would hold out for just one more paycheck, that the kids would enjoy the campaign he put together for them. He wanted Wayne to stay healthy, for Steve to pass his classes, for someone, anyone, to find the band and give them their big shot. 

But there was one wish that was more important than the rest. 

“The last thing is giving it a nice big kiss, so your buddy is always full of love.” Rosie said with a flourish. 

Eddie was about to lift the heart to his lips when he paused, turning to Steve and holding it out. Steve’s lip curled in a small, indulgent, smile, and he leaned forward, pressing a long kiss right in the middle of the fabric heart. The edge of his lip touched Eddie’s thumb, sending a shiver down his spine. 

From there the process moved quickly. Rosie sewed up his bear with deadly efficiency, and Eddie and Steve tag teamed the wall of outfits to find the perfect battle vest for Eddie’s bear. Before he knew it, Eddie was sat at a tiny little computer with his bear in his lap and Steve’s chin hooked over his shoulder, both of them staring down at the blank bear birth certificate.

“I don’t know what to name him,” Eddie moaned, leaning back against Steve, who appeared to be deep in thought. 

“Beddie.”

“Beddie?” Eddie repeated incredulously, turning to look at Steve properly. 

“Bear Eddie,” Steve shrugged, as if that made any sense at all. “He does look just like you.”

Eddie snorted, leaning forward and typing out the name, then hesitating and typing some more. 

“What do you think?” he asked, trying to hide the sudden nerves that were lighting up his veins. The last name wasn’t a huge risk to take, but it meant something, something far more than either of them were willing to admit just yet. 

“Perfect,” Steve said with a kiss pressed to Eddie’s cheek. 

And that was how Beddie Bearington ended up nestled between Eddie and Steve that night as they lounged on the couch. Steve had fallen asleep two episodes deep into their Survivor binge, and Eddie was content to stay exactly where he was for at least a few more hours. He dipped his head down, pressing his face to the center of the bear’s chest and smelling the candied lemon scent that permeated through the fur. As he continued to cuddle his bear, Eddie felt something hard and square in the left paw. He pulled back, perplexed by the sudden change, carefully feeling around the object and wondering what it might be. 

With a jolt, Eddie finally put together Steve’s behavior from before. He had somehow hidden a  sound box inside Eddie’s bear, that was the secret Steve hadn’t let him hear before. Eddie slapped his forehead with a palm, unable to believe he could’ve missed something so obvious. The boys would’ve had words to say about their DM being so unobservant. 

Eddie took a cursory look down to make sure Steve was still asleep, and then pressed it, putting the bear's paw up to his ear. He had expected a song, or even some funny sound. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the soft tone of Steve’s voice, fulfilling the secret wish he had put into his bear’s heart. 

“Hi Eddie, it’s me, your boyfriend, Steve. I want you to know that you are the funniest, sweetest, most creative person I know, and I’m so happy that I get to love you…because I do. I love you, Eddie.” 

“It’s true,” a voice whispered from below. Eddie moved the bear and there was Steve, staring up at him. “Sorry I couldn’t say it before.”

“I love you too,” Eddie whispered, almost in awe that he could finally say it and hear it back. 

He could hear it whenever he wanted. Eddie pressed the button on the box again just because he could. Steve’s words filled the air as Eddie nestled Beddie into the couch and dipped his head down, hair falling in a curtain around them as they shared another kiss. 

[kasagia]

Dancing with the devil III

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: You learn about your friend's terrifying future and promise yourself to somehow help her avoid her terrible fate. Na-Baron and you have a little... argument and a new, intriguing lord appears in society—a man who made a huge impression on you. Everyone is jealous. Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; I listened to High Infidelity and new Gracies Abrams album while writing this one; quote from High Infidelity by Taylor; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~

"Even on Arrakis it's not that hot." You're grumbling, walking with your friend in a group of other ladies. You fan yourself with your white feather fan, trying to cool yourself down a bit, but Giedi Prime's black sun doesn't make it any easier for you.

"I don't know. I've never been there. Or anywhere. It's amazing how Harkonnens can go out all dressed in black and not have a single drop of sweat on their skin."

"Nothing about the Harkonnens is fascinating." You say as you reach the training field. You look for Lord Luwael, but you can't see your almost-fiance anywhere. But your eyes immediately fall on Feyd-Rautha.

It was irritating how quickly you recognised his bald head among the Harkonnens he surrounded himself with. The generals fought with him and each other, putting on quite a show for the ladies passing by. However, the real show began when Na-Baron started fighting with his older brother.

People began to gather, watching the sparring of the two heirs of the Harkonnen legacy. You flinched as Rabban let out an almost animalistic, warlike roar, just like your friend. You glanced in her direction and frowned, seeing her paling as their fight became more and more brutal.

"Y/F/N, are you alright?" Your friend opens her mouth to say something back at your question, but just then Lord Luwael appears next to you and steals all your attention.

"Brutes. They behave like animals. They have no sense of respect for human life and health. I don't want to spread rumours, but I heard that they mutilate... their wives and take pleasure in their pain. This is how they express their love. Sick nation."

You nod, watching the fighting display in front of you. You might think that the Rabban beast, as a scary brother more trained and familiar with fighting, would win against Na-Baron, but this is not the case. The men fight evenly until Count Rabban loses his guard in favour of stronger attacks.

Na-Baron takes advantage of this immediately. Just a few of his dodges are enough for Count Rabban to get irritated. He storms at his younger brother mindlessly, giving Na-Baron a chance to attack. He makes a few tactical moves that require more common sense than strength, and he stabs his brother in the shoulder. Rabban screams as he tries to wriggle out of his brother's blade, and Feyd helps him by kicking him in the back and sending him to his knees. You shiver as he glances at you briefly before turning his attention back to the fight with his brother.

The fight is in full swing when suddenly one of Count Rabban's daggers, instead of hitting his brother, hits one of the Harkonnen soldiers. The man is stabbed in the stomach, his insides spilling out from the sloppily inflicted wound.

It doesn't bother you. In fact, you don't react at all to this act of brutality except for wrinkling your nose as the smell of Harkonnen's black blood and entrails hits you. You feel a chill only when you catch Na-Baron's careful gaze on you.

And then, suddenly, your friend faints next to you at the sight of a dying man.

"Y/F/N!" You scream, catching her before she hits the ground. Lord Luwael helps you lay her down gently, and you fan her, pushing the man away from your unconscious friend as you try to provide her with more air and space.

You're too busy fanning your friend to notice how the crowd shifts its attention to the two of you. Even more so to notice one of the Harkonnens approaching you.

"Step aside." Rabban's voice reaches you as he tries to make his way through the crowd. He stands over you and your friend, watching you carefully before he speaks again. "I will take care of my fiancée." He tells you coldly, suggesting you leave. Your eyes widen as you realise who he's talking about. Your gaze shifts from your friend to the man next to you. Rabban was her fiancé. Poor Y/F/N.

"I am more than capable of taking care of my friend, Count Rabban. Besides, I doubt that the sight and smell of blood will help her recover." You tell him with an equally cold tone of voice, not moving away from your friend's side. You turn your gaze towards her, ignoring Rabban's furious look.

"I said..."

"Thank you for your concern, but I assure you she will be fine in a minute. Today's weather must have overwhelmed her." You interrupt him, giving him an equally determined look, not moving an inch from your spot or reacting to Harkonnen's obvious attempt to intimidate you.

The man moves furiously towards you, but before he can even lay a pinky finger on you, his wrist is caught in a tight grip by his younger brother. The men stared furiously at each other for several moments, challenging each other.

"Rabban. You heard Lady Y/N. Your help is not needed. You should go to a medic to have your wound treated." Na-Baron growls, never taking his stern glare off of him. And as much as you despise the Harkonnen heir, you can't deny that right now you're grateful to him for keeping his brother away from you and Y/F/N.

The older brother gives you one last hostile glare before pushing his brother's hand away from him. He retreats and walks away from you, barking at the crowd of onlookers to disperse.

Na-Baron kneels on the other side of your friend and lifts her a little higher into a sitting position. You notice that she actually starts to take deeper breaths due to the change in position. You sit there next to her for a few minutes before you muster up the courage to speak.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, little swan." He replies with a small smirk, showing you his array of black teeth. Which, surprisingly, bothers you much less than previously.

You stare at him for a moment, much longer than you would usually allow yourself, and he notices. You lean towards him and, for some reason you can't explain, reach up to wipe the blood from his cheek.

Feyd flinches as your gloved hand touches his skin. He curses the fact that the small, lacy material prevents him from feeling your skin against his.

And he decides to do something with it.

He turns his head, grabs your glove with his teeth, and removes the fabric from your hand. You shiver when you see him put the glove in his pocket before taking your hand in his.

He traces a streak of blood from one of his soldiers with your finger, collecting the blood on your finger. His full lips wrap around your finger, sucking out the black liquid. You bite your lip, feeling his tongue wrap around your fingers as he sucks on it like the most delicious candy. You hold your breath and close your eyes, breaking eye contact with him as you remember how wonderful that tongue felt inside your core.

You only dared to open your eyes when he left your finger alone, and you felt his full lips press against the skin of your hand.

And that was your undoing.

His white irises, under the influence of the Giedi Prime sun, gave way to his black pupils, which were staring at you all the time, like at a sacred image. However, you both knew very well that you were far from saintly. Just like him.

And just when Feyd thinks you're going to lean in to press your lips against his, to be the one to initiate the kiss for the first time, you suddenly pull away from him as if scalded.

Feyd furrows his hairless eyebrows, not knowing what's going on, but everything becomes clear when he hears the hated voice of Lord Luwael.

“I brought some water. And sobering salts from one of the ladies." The man says, walking over to the two of you. You give him a beautiful smile, and Feyd's heart shrinks with jealousy.

He instinctively wants to reach for his sword and plunge it straight into Lord Luwael's heart. But he can't do it because he knows that the moment he kills... the obstacle, Feyd will lose any chance of gaining your favour and heart. And all he wanted was for you to smile at him as beautifully (and more sincerely) as you would at that flea not worthy of your attention.

"Thank you, my lord." Feyd notices the difference in how you thank this man.

You're telling him this because it's appropriate, because it's polite of you. Not that you really needed his help, because Feyd was the first to calm you down and take care of your friend. It was Feyd who you thanked sincerely, not that toad in the emperor's crown.

"Na-Baron, it's... very noble of you to help in this situation." Lord Luwael says, and Feyd clenches his jaw slightly at the mockery in the man's voice.

"It's my duty to take care of my guests." Feyd replies in a neutral tone of voice, taking the salts from you and helping you wake up your friend.

"We won't disturb you anymore and distract you from… more important duties."

"Believe me, lord, I have no more important matters on my mind than this." Feyd replies firmly, not moving away from his place for an inch.

The men stared at each other for a long moment, giving each other deadly looks. You roll your eyes and try to quickly think of something to keep their attention. And quickly, before the pseudo-alpha male fight breaks out.

"Could one of you gentlemen help me carry her to her room? I believe she will be better off there than here." You ask, giving them a worried, pleading look.

"Of course, my lady." They both answered at the same time. They look at each other furiously for a moment, but Feyd wins the battle of speed and reflexes and grabs your friend in wedding style. You ignore the uncomfortable tickle in your chest and the lump in your throat and nod to Lord Luwael.

You and Na-Baron walk through the halls of the palace in silence. Without a word, he follows you into your friend's room and places her on her bed.

"Thank you." You say, expecting him to leave as soon as possible. But he has other plans for you.

"Do you really think you can be happy with him? Your little lord?" He asks you mockingly, leaning against the dresser and crossing his arms.

"My happiness is definitely not your concern." You reply furiously, not caring about titles, being polite, or anything else.

He had no right to question your decisions, decisions on which your entire future life depended. He didn't even know you! He had no right to judge what was better for you. And it definitely wasn't him.

"So you voluntarily force yourself to spend time with this weak little man? Why? Because maybe one day in the distant future he will become emperor?" He asks incredulously, laughing at your stupidity. You feel your anger bubble up inside you the longer you look at the bastard's smug face. And this time, you're not going to hold back or even pretend to be nice.

"He will become emperor. There are no ifs or maybes. He is the emperor's cousin and the first male descendant in his bloodline. As soon as Irulan's father dies, he will ascend to the throne. And I will become empress!" You speak with complete conviction and stomp your foot in anger at the last sentence, emphasising your rage.

"Is that all you want? Is that your ambition? Become an empress? Because I promise you, little swan, if your weak lord, fainting at the sight of the blood and fighting of REAL MEN, becomes emperor, I will gather my troops and overthrow him. What will you do then, little swan? Will you try to seduce me to keep the crown? Maybe then the idea of becoming my wife won't be so repulsive to you, hm? Maybe then you can allow yourself to fully enjoy my touch without running away from me every time I make you cum and scream my name? Maybe then you will realise that you belong only to me, and not to any Atreides or Luwael?"

You shiver as he presses you against the wall. He's so close to you that you feel his chest brush against yours with every fast, furious breath he takes. You glance at your friend, making sure she's still unaware of your conversation, and shift your gaze back to his icy-blue irises.

"That's not your damn business." You snap at him angrily, hoping you can stop yourself from punching him in the face, but it seems like a more and more difficult task with every second you talk to him. As well as refraining from silencing him by kissing those stupid, beautiful, tempting lips of his.

"It is my damn business. From that night in the garden, everything that's involving you is my damn business. And even earlier.

You are everything I want, everything I desire. I think day and night about that sweet pussy of yours, about how perfectly you would welcome me inside you, how beautiful you would look on the throne by my side. What about you, Y/N? How many times have you screamed my name into your pillow in the middle of the night? How many times have you wished that your fingers playing with that needy clit were mine? How many times have you imagined riding me on the emperor's throne?" He asks in that hoarse, sinful voice of his, sending an electric shiver right through you to your needy core. You shiver when he nuzzles against your temple, inhaling your scent. You close your eyes and sigh shakily as his hand goes to your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes. "How many times have you wished that I was your fiancé instead of Atreides?"

For a moment, you freeze, only able to look into his eyes as he hits your sweet spot with every question. Fortunately, the moment he leans in to capture your lips in a kiss, you push him away from you and take a few steps back. You take a few calming breaths and shoot him an angry, exasperated look.

"Let's make it perfectly clear." You say it firmly, taking a step closer to him with each sentence you say. "We are not engaged. We are not courting each other. We are not even friends or have the same group of friends. We have nothing in common with each other anymore besides that one mistake, so live your life and leave me alone. Just as you wanted."

You stare at each other for a few long moments, both of you breathing heavily with anger. His bright blue eyes are agitated. Like the ocean in a storm. You see how he clenches his fists, how the vein in his arm trembles, and for a moment you are tempted to cross the distance between you and the feeling of his hands on you.

But you couldn't.

He was a Harkonnen. Your mother would kill you for rejecting such an honourable suitor as Lord Luwael for… one of those bald brutes.

"Is that what you want?" He asks in that husky voice that should make you feel repulsed, but all you feel is a shiver of excitement as you remember all the things he whispered in your ear in the darkness of Giedi Prime.

"Yes. It is." You answer stubbornly, still sticking to your opinion. This will be best for you. You must focus on maintaining Lord Luwael by your side. Maybe later, when you're married, you can somehow have an affair with Feyd, and that way you'll keep him away from Irulan.

But one thing was certain: You will end this season as a wife. No matter what.

"Well then." He replies coldly and turns on his heel. He closes the door behind him with a loud bang, not even giving you a second glance.

You try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in your chest and forget about this whole conversation. You didn't lose anything. You just got rid of an unwanted suitor. Right? Then why do you feel… so strange? Like doing something you shouldn't do…

"Y/N?" Your friend's voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Oh, thank God, you finally woke up." You say and sit on the edge of her bed. "Why didn't you tell me you were engaged to… to Rabban?" The girl tenses at your question. You see her become more nervous and start playing with the edge of the blanket in frustration.

"I... I hoped that since nobody knows it wasn't true. But... I..." She pauses, and your heart clenches when you see her on the verge of tears.

"Come here, my girl." You say and lean in to hug her tightly. She buries her head in the crook of your neck and shivers as she tries to calm down. "I promise you, I will get you out of this marriage."

"You can't. The Harkonnen took over my home planet. It was destroying my nation, family, or marriage between me and Rabban."

"Oh, my poor girl. There must be a way..."

"There is not!" She interrupts you furiously and pulls away from your embrace. Her eyes are red, and unshed tears remain in her eyes. "Not everyone has a life as perfect and beautiful as you, Y/N. But don't you dare judge me! Or pity me! I do it for my people, for my family. I... it's noble... and maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all..."

You look at her with great compassion. You reach over and place a hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture, but before you can say anything, there's a knock on the door.

Before you can speak, several Harkonnen servants enter. Most of them have some small crates and boxes that they put on the dresser.

"The Na-Baron sent us with this, my lady. We are here to ensure that the Giedi Prime sun will not pose a threat to your health, Lady Y/F/N."

Without knowing why, you feel a sudden wave of anger at their words. How dare he do such a thing? You try not to worry so much; you even tell yourself that your reaction is absurd, but your mood worsens even more when you see your friend's eyes become a little brighter and a genuine smile appear on her face.

You stare blankly at the maids leaving, wondering why the hell you are jealous of such a meaningless gesture from a man you don't even want.

"Na-Baron seems completely different from his brother. At least he's honorable. And he is not brutal towards his concubines. It is true that servants and soldiers die at his hands, but he only kills the incompetent ones. I feel like he's just doing it to preserve his reputation in his uncle's eyes. Oh. If only he could become my husband and not this... beast."

"Concubines?" You ask confusedly, not remembering seeing him with anyone else... not since then.

"Haven't you seen them? The whole society is talking about them. Lately, he seems to keep himself out of their company. It makes sense since he's looking for a wife, but still, they said that these women were created for his pleasure. They're kind of living robots. I don't know how much of this is true, and even if it were, Na-Baron seems to care about them."

You become even more mad, even though you shouldn't. You're almost engaged to Lord Luwael, and less than half an hour ago, you told Feyd that there would be nothing between you two and that you wanted him to leave you alone. If Y/F/N took care of Feyd, you wouldn't have to worry about Irulan marrying him. So why did you feel sick just thinking about this turn of events? Or that he has concubines?

You had no idea. And it bothered you greatly.

"Why didn't he propose?" Your mother asks you, preparing you for the last ball on Giedi Prime.

A week has passed since your last conversation with Na-Baron, and since then, you have only seen him from a distance on ceremonial occasions. As you wished, he left you alone. And you fucking hated it that his attention was taken away from you like that.

"I have no idea." You snap at her in frustration as she fixes your makeup.

During this week, you have been eagerly awaiting Lord Luwael's proposal. And it was a pointless wait. You smiled at him, flirted, tempted, and seduced him, and you did everything in your power to get him to pull himself together and propose. But he didn't. He didn't even come close to doing this once.

And honestly, you were fucking fed up with it.

You were tired of pretending to be his sweet little princess who needed a man to defend herself. You were tired of pretending to be disgusted by the violence, tired of agreeing with him, and constantly admiring things that didn't really matter. This week spent solely in Lord Luwael's presence has taken a toll on your psyche, and even more so was the fact that Feyr-fucking-Rautha Harkonnen was right. You toiled alongside Lord Luwael. But you'll be damned if you give up now and are left with no suitor.

Your mother lets you go to the ball alone while she busies herself with packing your things, or rather, drinking wine in your rooms and making sure the maids take everything you need with you. So you walk alone through the corridors of Giedi Prime and end up in the ballroom.

The Harkonnen palace is as empty to you as their entire planet. You can see enormous wealth in the city, but apart from that, there is absolutely nothing here. Not counting military bases, training rooms, and laboratories, of course. Emphasis on the development of the army and the economy. So you don't wonder why Na-Baron mainly shows interest in all kinds of weapons and bloodshed.

You look at the people around you, carefully observing the men and women flirting with each other. With a disturbing feeling of anger and jealousy, you notice Y/F/N dancing with Feyd. And as much as you shouldn't care, you want to go up to your friend and claw her eyes out when you notice how she makes Feyd laugh at something she says.

"An interesting couple, isn't it?" You tense as Irulan's voice echoes behind you. You nod at her and take the champagne from a passing servant.

"Rather unexpected. Besides, it won't last long. She is marrying his brother. And they don't match each other at all. You don't have to be jealous of your future fiancé, princess." You banter with her, sipping your champagne as you both watch the dancing couple intently.

At some point, Na-Baron's gaze falls on the two of you. And while Princess Irulan looks away, embarrassed, you raise an eyebrow at the man, giving him a defiant look. A small smile appears on his face before he turns his full attention back to your friend, and suddenly you need something much stronger than this champagne to survive this evening.

"Lady Y/N, I believe that of the two of us, I'm not the jealous one here." She says this with a mischievous smirk, watching you in your wordless exchange with Na-Baron.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at this little insinuation, afraid of what this viper could learn about the relationship between you and Na-Baron. After all, it wasn't like you two had your... encounters in private places.

The mere thought of being seen with Na-Baron in this compromising situation by none other than the witch you once considered your friend makes you lust for murder and bloodshed. You think you've spent way too much time on Giedi Prime.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, princess. I already have my lord and suitor, and I assure you, it is not Feyd-Rautha or any other Harkonnen."

"And yet, your finger is not adorned with a ring." She replies mockingly, with a cynical smile, staring at your fingers, which unfortunately are only decorated with your family's signet ring. You hide your hand in the fabric of your golden, sparkly dress and give her a forced smile.

"Matter of time."

"Probably."

"Definitely." You answer confidently and finish your champagne. The woman next to you chuckles and shakes her head.

"I hope you find what you are looking for. But it definitely won't be my cousin. Maybe Na-Baron? You always had a soft spot for him. As you can see, this childish infatuation is not one-sided and still burns wide."

This comment makes you clench your fists in anger. Irulan knew perfectly well what happened between Na-Baron and you. Or rather, what didn't happen but could have happened. However, you are no longer the naive girl you were a few years ago. You knew better. You've witnessed too many of his acts of cruelty and ruthlessness to continue to believe that somewhere inside him is still that boy from Lankivieil who charmed you. Or at least, that's what you thought until you met years later.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, but if you're that interested, I've never been more indifferent towards him than I am now." You say, not hiding the reproach and resentment in your voice or look.

"Interesting." She responds, unfazed by your gaze, as if she had nothing to reproach herself with. You smile and shake your head in disbelief. Of course. What else could you expect from her? Your eyes involuntarily land on your friend, who is having a drink with Feyd while they are laughing about something. "Lord Luwael! I believe you promised me a dance." Lord Luwael actually decided to finally show up at the party. He gives you an apologetic smile before taking Princess Irulan's hand and leading her to the dance floor.

You feel defeated when you are alone, against the wall. You close your eyes and sigh before going back to watching the rest of the people at the party. You try as hard as you can to swallow the unpleasant lump of jealousy, rage, and grief in your throat, but just when you think you've managed to calm down and tame your emotions, you feel a familiar presence next to you.

"Where's your prince charming?" Feyd's mocking voice makes your anger bubble up again. You turn your back on him and walk in the opposite direction, trying to get through the sea of people to get to the table with drinks. "Rude." He comments as he follows you.

He watches you carefully as you drink down the entire champagne in your glass in one gulp, grimacing as you do so. You refrain from making a snide comment, but his lips involuntarily twist into a malicious smirk.

"Fuck off." You growl, not even looking at him.

"You should speak to me more politely. Your lovely friend asked me to come over to you. You looked rather miserable, standing there all alone while your future emperor was having fun with a real princess."

"You know what? They say a lot of terrible, frightening things about you, and maybe some of them aren't true at all, but nothing—absolutely nothing—no fucking mask or artificial acts of politeness and kindness on your part can hide your nasty nature. Since I've been here, I've seen all sides of you, each of them riddled with rot and corruption. And yes, I'm a naive idiot who deserves sympathy, but only because I truly believed you could be something more than a Harkonnen. And I may not be a good person, but I'm not as rotten to the core as you are. I'd rather die than ever have anything to do with you. Have a pleasant evening with your concubines, my lord." You growl, pushing past him as he continues to look at you in shock.

He's calling after you, but you walk quickly through the crowd of people, wanting to get away from him and everyone in the room as quickly as possible. You put your hand over your mouth and run out into the hall, looking for a place where you can cry freely.

Without paying much attention to where you're going, you land on one of the balconies. You gasp, seeing the man there, leaning against the railings and staring at the dark Giedi Prime night sky.

You want to get out of there as quickly as possible, but you accidentally hit a glass decoration on the wall, causing it to shatter into pieces on the floor. The man quickly turns around in alarm and sighs, relaxing when he sees that there wasn't any... attack or threat to his life.

"My apologises. I thought I'd find some solitude here." You reply shakily, unable to control your voice yet. But the man doesn't seem to care. You shiver as you meet his gaze as he carefully examines you for any injuries. He carefully avoids the broken glass and sweeps it aside as he walks closer to you.

"That's all right. You can stay here if you want. Well… maybe not on these pieces of glass. I myself am looking for a bit of peace in this… lively place. Are you alright? You didn't hurt yourself?" He asks, and you quickly nod your head. You take a few breaths and run a hand through your hair, brushing any stray strands of hair from your eyes.

When you look at him, you have the irresistible impression that you know him from somewhere. But you can't remember meeting this man or even understand why he seems oddly familiar to you. In a good way. 

"Excuse me, have we met before?" You can't help but ask him about it. It seems downright strange that you don't know him when you feel… strangely drawn to him. Because how could you forget a man with such white hair and the piercing look in his black irises?

"I highly doubt it. Michael." He replies, shaking your hand with a mysterious smirk. You tentatively reach for his hand, as dark as his irises. Or at least one of them. The second one was white. You shiver as he returns his full attention to you, his two-toned eyes practically hypnotising you.

"Just Michael?"

"Only Michael. And you? Mysterious star?" You can't help but laugh. Genuine laughter, which has turned out to be a great rarity for you lately. He smiles, showing you his array of white teeth.

"Y/N. And before you laugh at me, my lord, my mother told me to put this on. I had no right to object." You say, pointing to your golden dress that reflected the light coming from the corridor of the Harkonnen stronghold.

"Oh yeah. Mothers and their regime. Believe me, I have a similar one myself. It's hard to say no without fear of being disinherited, right?"

"Yes. Definitely." You say, unable to stop smiling. Something about his presence seemed calming, even ethereal. Just a moment of conversation with him was enough for you to completely forget about the ball and everything that happened a few minutes ago. Talking with him and being in his presence brought you unexpected, strange relief. "So what are you hiding from? Crazy mother? You didn't wear the suit she wanted?"

"Let's say. I'm not really… familiar with the surroundings and people here. I've just arrived yesterday."

"Yesterday? But soon the nobles are leaving Giedi Prime. Why did you arrive at the very end of this event?"

"Most of them. Some stay for a few more days due to political matters. This is the reason why I am here."

"So you're not looking for a wife?" You ask, slightly teasingly. He chuckles at your remark and shakes his head.

"Not necessarily. At least now. I want to achieve something first." This answer makes your opinion of him grow even more.

He was absolutely perfect. Starting with appearance and ending with personality. Or at least that's what he appeared to be doing. You need to find out more about him. Hook your claws into it. If not the heir to the Emperor's throne, perhaps an ambitious, power-hungry man would be enough for you to reach for it with him. But first, you had to find out more about him—for example, what family he came from.

"An ambitious man with a plan. Beware of mothers; they will tear you to pieces for their daughters. Especially Lady Whistledown, if she finds out about you and decides to put you on the front page of her gossip rags. A mysterious man named Michael is the new, most desired suitor of this season."

"The first woman who doesn't like these rumours—did she tarnish your reputation, or are you just above the high society and their ridiculous sensations to care about things they care about?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore." You whisper conspiratorially, making him laugh.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Possible. Care to join?" You ask teasingly and shake his hand. He raises an eyebrow at you and licks his lips. His bi-colour irises stare intently at you as he considers your offer.

"Are you asking me to dance?" He replies with an equally mischievous smirk, responding positively to your flirtatious teasing.

"Feeling offended? Should I wait until you ask me, so I can politely smile and bow, my lord? Maybe even blush?"

The man in front of you laughs. He adjusts the necklace around your neck, gently brushing his fingertips against your skin. A shiver runs down your spine as you feel his electric touch on you.

"I like your current attitude better. If you care about it…"

"Well then." You mumble as he suddenly grabs your hand and presses a kiss on it. You shiver, feeling his lips through the diamond mesh that was supposed to be a replacement for your gloves.

"I'm very curious if you dance as gracefully as you destroy things in this palace." He says, casting a pointed glance at the pieces of glass on the floor beneath your feet. You give him a mock-offended look, at which he chuckles. You find his laughter quite pleasant.

He leads you to the ballroom floor. You mingle with the crowd without drawing too much attention to yourselves. And even though you had written this evening off as a waste a few hours ago, thanks to Michael, it became... very nice. And pleasant. Refreshing.

You laugh heartily, and you feel butterflies in your stomach every time he leans towards you. You're completely enchanted by him, like a stupid teenager in love. You ignore the looks the people around you give you. For example, the stern look in your mother's eyes, the surprise in Irulan and Y/F/N's eyes, or the jealousy that Lord Luwael tries to hide when talking to Irulan. One particular pair of blue irises never leaves your side. But you don't care.

All you see is black and white—the irises of your evening companion. Surprisingly enough, you don't have to pretend to be either a damsel in distress or a strong woman who doesn't need anyone. You can be yourself. And as strange as it is, it's so nice to let go of control and vigilance sometimes. Even though the voice in the back of your head and your intuition tell you that you shouldn't break down the steel walls of your defences.

You don't even care about the whispers and rumours that spread about you in the ballroom—about your high infidelity and instability of feelings when people comment on how you rejected Lord Luwael's advances and jumped into another man's arms. You dance around with this charming man, not worrying that you just lost two potential suitors. All that mattered was that Michael made you feel like he had brought you back to life.

And you decided to remain blissfully unaware tonight and deal with the storm you had unleashed some other time. Tonight, your only activity was counting the constellations in Lord Michael's eyes, revelling in his scent and presence.

Meanwhile, Na-Baron leaves the party earlier than he should. With his hands gripped tightly around the handles of his blades.

However, this night proves something to you—something that you learned and experienced on your own skin a long time ago and Na-Baron learned tonight.

There's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, and the slowest way is never loving them enough.

Feyd's heart beats madly as he crosses the familiar halls of Giedi Prime. He avoids any guards or any living soul who might acknowledge his presence in the guest quarters. He slips silently into a specific chamber, careful not to make any sound.

He looks around the room and silently rummages through open crates, suitcases, and objects that have not yet been packed by the servants. He smiles to himself as a small vial with a familiar scent finally falls into his hands.

The poison that killed his harpies.

He turns around slowly, letting his eyes land on your sleeping figure. He silently approaches your bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he tries hard to sharpen his vision in the darkness of the room to get a good look at your facial features.

You sleep so peacefully in your bed. Feyd is downright unaccustomed to seeing you… not annoyed or insanely angry at him. In your relaxed state, you look almost like an angel.

And Feyd finds himself wanting to lie down behind you, take you in his arms, and just bury his nose in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent while he falls asleep. Which he thinks is absurd, considering that a few hours ago he found out that his darlings died of poisoning. 

He should be mad at you. He should slit your throat right now, choke you, break all your bones, rip out all your muscles, and take your heart, which was as festering and selfish as his, especially after all the insults you said to him.

He takes the dagger with practiced ease. He presses the tip of it against your neck, gentle enough that you don't feel it in your sleep but close enough to feel the tip of the blade against your skin. He breathes heavily, staring at your sleeping figure. His anger rises as he thinks about how you danced with this new, strange man a few hours ago. How you smiled at him, how you flirted with him, how you ran your hands over his muscular arms and chest, how you brazenly did things that you should have done with no one else but Feyd.

And when he raises the dagger to swing and cut the skin of your delicate neck, he hesitates. Keeps steel in the air longer than necessary. Feyd closes his eyes, makes a fist, and bites it as he swings.

A strand of your hair falls onto your pillow. Feyd leans down and gathers the hair he cut off, wraps it in your shawl, and puts it on his nose. He inhales the delicate floral scent of your perfume, allowing himself a moment of weakness. He hides the dagger and his prized possessions in his pocket.

And just as he turns to leave, to accept that you will always see him as a monster, something in your jewellery box catches his attention.

He walks over to her and tenderly reaches for his old Lord of Lankiveil ring. He remembers many years ago when his uncle told him to throw away all the mementos from his old house. He kept two things. The ring and the shell that the oceans of his planet often washed ashore. He gave both of these things to you. For safekeeping.

He frowns, searching for a shell in your glass. He sighs in frustration when he can't find it. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and puts his old ring back in its place, wondering what you did with that little shell.

This discovery gives him the courage to approach your bed again. He lightly strokes your cheek with his fingertips, wondering if the fact that you kept the ring means that he wasn't as lost in the game for your hand as he thought.

But he still can't get the words you told him earlier out of his head—how much you hurt him today. And not only today. He sighs quietly, not knowing what to do. Just as he's about to remove his hand from your cheek, you roll over and nuzzle your face in his hand. Feyd's heart stops at this small gesture. He feels the warmth radiating from you as you press your cheek into his hand. His heart flutters, and his mouth goes dry at the contact as you instinctively reach for him.

And this somehow gives him hope that your anger, disgust, and resentment towards him may not have been as sincere and passionate as they seemed. He just had to approach you in the right way. And he knew exactly what he had to do next time to make sure you weren't just glaring madly at him across the ballroom or killing the women he was close to in your acts of jealousy.

He wanted all of your passionate anger directed at him. Not at any other women. And then he will do everything in his power to ensure that your quarrel goes the way he wants it to go—with you under him... or on top of him.

Either way, he will make you his. He will make you look at him the way you used to, the way now you look at those idiots you meet. And this time, nothing will stop him. Even you.

Dearest, gentle readers…

This author is completely disappointed with the lack of exciting news from Giedi Prime.

This author's curiosity has not been satisfied to any extent, and although we have learned more about the Na-Baron, his customs, his fighting skills, his dealings with his servants, and the concubines who are his constant companions in the dark nights of Giedi Prime, this author is hungry for more.

Those who have ears and eyes will probably not be surprised that Lady Y/F/N was promised to Count Rabban in marriage, which is to reconcile the countries at war. But those who are able to observe more may notice that this lady had a much better time with Harkonnen's younger brother than with her fiancé. Could it be that the brothers need to learn how to share their new bride-to-be? Or maybe this is not such a strange situation for them, considering how light and free the inhabitants of Giedi Prime are towards intimate matters. Let's not even mention the possible arranged marriage between Princess Irulan and the infamous Na-Baron.

This author, as closely as watched the affairs of the Harkonens, is watching what is happening between Lady Y/N and Lord Luwael. The young heiress of the family decided not to wait for the young lord to ask her such an important question for every woman and decided to move on with her search for a husband.

Surprisingly, Lady Y/N's attention was taken over by a certain Duke. Mchael Sahohton. And although the young Duke is not first in line to succeed to the Emperor's throne, his influence and ambition are so great that he can be considered a pretender to the throne more than Lord Luwael ever could ever be.

Is it a calculated move that Lady Y/N goes from one heir to the emperor's throne to another? Probably. Can we blame her? Of course not. After all, in the pursuit of a good match, a woman will do anything to end up with the best man possible. However, this young woman must remember to maintain her good, clean reputation in all this, which is extremely difficult to do when you have such an exciting and tempting goal in front of you.

Only one question remains: Which of these gentlemen is the diamond of this season? Which one is the most worthy of attention and pursuit by ladies

This author will try to answer this question, eagerly waiting for the continuation of this season, on the Kaitain - the homeland of the house Corrino and the breeding ground of the Bene Gesserit.

Taglist for Feyd: @avidreader73

Taglist for DWTD: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran @hueanhdang @barnes70stark

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: going to support him at a match for the first time since you’re together (anonymous)

Word Count: 692 words

(author's note: sorry if the ending seems slightly rushed, i hope you all enjoy it !!)

Y/N loved being Xavi’s girlfriend. However, one thing she didn’t love was the idea of going to one of his games. She wanted nothing more than to support her boyfriend and cheer him on, but the aggression of the fans and the swarming media didn’t help ease her worries.

But she had decided that enough was enough.

“Xavi, baby? Are you in here?” Y/N asked, pushing open the door to her boyfriend’s home gym.

“Yeah, what’s the matter? You okay?”

“I just wanted to ask you something. Do you have a minute?”

“For you? Always. What’s the matter, my love?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking recently and decided I’d like to come to your game tonight. If that’s okay with you of course?”

Xavi stayed silent. He walked over to his girlfriend and threw his arms around her, pulling her into him tightly.

“I’m assuming that’s a yes?” Y/N laughed softly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that.”

As soon as the seating had been arranged and Y/N had been given the all-clear to attend the game, she headed upstairs to get ready. Before she knew it, she was wearing a jersey with her boyfriend’s name on and was sitting in the passenger seat of his car.

The surrounding area of the stadium was packed with fans. Cars were parked in every available space and the streets were filled with the colourful masses of team jerseys, worn by adoring fans.

Y/N picked at her nails nervously. She had slightly begun to regret her decision and the loud shouts from outside the car didn’t help her anxiety. Xavi looked over at her, noticing the unsure look on her face. He reached a hand over to her and intertwined their fingers.

“You’re gonna be in the family box baby, everything will be fine.”

Y/N nodded, smiling weakly at her boyfriend. She knew she was being dramatic and that she had nothing to worry about but she couldn’t help but be nervous.

Once Xavi had parked the car and headed into the stadium with Y/N alongside him, they headed to the entrance to the viewing box for family members.

“Right, I need to get to the changing rooms,” Xavi said hurriedly, “You can sit anywhere in the box, I'm sure you'll find some people to speak to.”

“Alright, good luck baby,” Y/N said smiling.

“Thank you my love.”

Xavi pulled Y/N in for a kiss and then gave her a quick hug. Then with one last wave he was running off in the direction of the changing rooms.

Y/N headed into the seating area and sat down in an empty spot. She introduced herself to some of the other wives and girlfriends of the players and time passed by quickly.

Silence fell upon the room as the game began. Throughout the match, cheers, boos and exclamations could be heard in the surrounding areas, mixed in with the chants of the crowds.

The only thing Y/N could think about was how she regretted not coming to a game sooner. She sat with a smile on her face, soaking up the atmosphere around her. In the blink of an eye, the game was over and everyone was exiting the box and heading down the stairs onto the field.

Having scored the winning goal, many cameras were on Xavi, but he only cared about one thing; finding his girlfriend. His eyes scanned the crowds of people on the pitch, looking for her in particular.

When he finally spotted her, he ran over to her and swept her up in his arms. Spinning her around, Y/N shrieked with excitement.

“Xavi, baby, I'm so proud of you!”

He smiled at his girlfriend's words, "It's because I knew you were here cheering me on.”

“I might have to come more often then.”

Looking at his Y/N with the biggest smile on his face, Xavi kissed her with all the strength he could muster. He knew that as long as she was attending his games, his winning performances would keep on coming.

[brabblesblog]

Ch 1: Whither is thy beloved gone?

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

A small scene at breakfast that sets up the situation in the Palace for the past six months.

Read on AO3

Masterlist.

Ban opened her eyes to yet another dawn; a shaft of sunlight peeked through the gap between vermilion curtains, shining on her face. Her hand moved, reaching for the empty space beside her before she stopped herself. There was no need to check - there never was, not for months now.

She made her way out of the gigantic four-poster bed she and her lord sleep in. Her silken robe awaited her, draped over the luxurious couch, and she slipped it on wordlessly. The servants all murmured soft greetings as she passed them on her way to breakfast, but Ban paid them no mind. The days and nights all blended for her, days of meetings and nights of wheedling their way into the high society of Baldur’s Gate. And sex, of course, but even that had become stale to her now. Not that her partner wasn’t a consummate lover - far from it - but the souring of the love she has for him tainted even the most pleasurable of moments.

The doors to the dining room were held open for her, and as she walked in, he looked up. He shot her a wry grin and crossed the room, taking her hand and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. Every morning he did this; it would have made her swoon six months ago.

When he was different. When he was the man she’d loved.

“I had to rise early, love,” he began, as if he didn’t do so every damn morning. “Preparations for renovating the… basement area are finally underway, and I did not want them missing any single detail of what I have planned for it.”

The basement area. The dungeons. He couldn't even bring himself to say the word; he refused any reminder of his past self. If he had his way, people would think he sprang into existence some six months ago. She allowed him to lead her to the ridiculously large table. As always, he was seated at the head and she to his right.

He offered her a tart, which she waved off; it wasn’t as if she could actually enjoy it. Mortal food had been tasteless since she’d turned. Instead she reached for the bottle of blood on the table, warmed just before it was served.

“I’m surprised you even bothered with touching the dungeons,” she said, smiling placidly as her use of the word was rewarded with a glare.

“The basement,” he hissed, “is the most neglected part of the house. It is- never mind.” As expected, Astarion refused any mention of what the basement used to be. “Besides. The artisan guilds are clamoring for space to rent, and as you suggested, I entertained their request.”

It was Ban’s turn to roll her eyes. Astarion was right - she had asked him to focus his attention on not just the patriars, but also the artisan guilds, a calculated decision designed to win more people to their side, to sink their claws deeper into the heart of the city. It made sense to not only win over the very cream of the crop, but also the people slightly below it. At worst, it would be a waste of time and of negligible resources. At best, it would help curtail the surprising resistance the Ascendant had been encountering in his efforts to win over the nobility.

The Szarrs had been a well-known family with noble roots, and so Cazador had the name to match his wealth and status. Astarion Ancunín, however, had no such privilege. Thus, when he’d emerged as the successor to Cazador’s estate, there had been more than a few raised eyebrows. Added to that, Astarion hadn’t had to plan anything in two centuries, so the task of ingratiating them with the city’s gentry had mostly fallen to Ban. Well, the planning and scheming, anyway. The Ascendant acted as the face, charming and manipulating his way through the meetings and parties, while his consort laid out their strategy, playing the perfect lady-wife and hostess.

Plans for a future she'd never desired, but sought for his sake anyway, ambitions and schemes that were all too similar to what her father had groomed her for. It had all come back to her with a distressing effortlessness, the machinations as natural as breathing. She hadn’t seen fit to let Astarion know this, not now. Before the rite, there had been the potential of so much time together that she hadn’t felt any urgency to share the circumstances of her early life with him. After the rite, things had just been... different.

“If it’s for the artisan guilds, then do it,” Ban said, pouring the warmed blood into her glass, taking a sip. “Gods know you need all the support you can get from them, especially considering how tenuous your position has remained with the patriars.”

Astarion scoffed, but didn’t reply to her taunt. Instead he took a long, slow bite of his tart and made an exaggerated gesture of delight, reminding her exactly what she’d been missing out on.

“Well, my treasure, it worked. There will be a ball held a tenday from now, with all the guilds attending.” Pride at managing to pull that off without her aid or knowledge tinged his voice.

Ban narrowed her eyes. All the guilds? Generally she would consider that a significant success, but the fact that she may have to face her family there gave her pause. She took a long pull from her goblet at the thought.

“All the guilds…” she repeated, for a moment not bothering to mask her feelings, her horror bleeding through.

“You’re now reduced to parroting what I say? Pet, I didn’t take you to be so dull,” Astarion sneered, taking the opportunity to strike. He wasn’t stupid; he’d always been aware that things had changed between him and his consort.

It had been a whirlwind of events since he’d ascended. At first, there’d been an overwhelming sense of power, of endless possibilities. He had everything - power, freedom, riches. He had her by his side. The following days had been battle after battle as they’d slowly approached the Netherbrain. There hadn’t been time to reexamine their relationship, other than to realize it was failing. Hells, there had barely been time for him to explore his new abilities.

Then, just as quickly, the brain had been defeated and they were finally alone together. Just the two of them and Cazador’s palace. My palace, he reminded himself. Not his.

They were finally, truly together, the Absolute vanquished at last - it should have been a wondrous time. They should have been happy in each other’s arms, at the start of their shared eternity. But she’d become cold after the rite, a chill that had yet to thaw. She flinched from his touches, from his lips. Her smiles never met her eyes, and all she did was help him lay out plans for his dominion. At night, she yielded to his every desire. Every night he made love to her, as he had been doing since the first night after his ascension. She only played her role, saying the right words, moaning the right way, but he sensed the absence there. None of it ever reached her.

At first, he’d attempted to take whatever emotions she’d shown at face value. She’d seemed to like planning their conquest of Baldur’s Gate, seemed to have taken to heart the words he’d so casually thrown out during their journey, so he’d acted just as enthusiastic about it. She’d seemed to react positively whenever he’d asked for suggestions regarding their schemes; he not being well suited to formulating detailed plans and her proving knowledgeable, he tended to follow her advice. Initially these things had seemed to at least elicit a response in her that wasn't hollowness. As time passed, however, even they had seemed to lose their luster, the emptiness in her eyes becoming more and more prominent.

He had never seen her in silks or in anything expensive throughout their time fighting the Absolute. The moment he’d gotten access to Cazador’s wealth, he’d bought her everything he’d wanted to give her before: gowns, shoes, jewelry. All she had to do was glance at an item once, and it was hers. But the emptiness only grew.

He’d attempted to convince himself he couldn’t understand how they had ended up this way, but truthfully it was that he couldn't admit to himself what he knew the root cause to be. That initial confusion had slowly turned into resentment. Deep down, he knew where he’d gone wrong, of course, but really, was leaving the palace such a big deal?

That had been their first major argument. Astarion had come back from a meeting one day to find Ban gone, the servants explaining she’d left the palace to walk around the city. He had refrained from going after her, but he had been worried. What if someone took the Ascendant’s consort as a hostage? What if she roamed too far, and somehow the extension of his powers failed? Then what? The image of her burning in the sun had filled him with an impotent, all-consuming fury. He had told her not to wander!

When she had finally gotten home, her hands full of pastries she had bought for him, he had flown into a fit of rage.

“How dare you sneak off like that, Ban! Without asking! Without me knowing!”

Ban had flinched. She’d held up the pastries. “I bought them to surprise-”

He’d almost shoved them out of her hands, but had stopped himself. Barely. “Have I not told you, pet, not to stray too far? What if you were hurt? What if you burned in the sun?” His eyes had glinted then, the fires of worry mixing with anger.

“You are mine, and I do not like not knowing where my things are.”

She had tried to argue about having the freedom to go where she pleased, but he’d shut her down the moment she’d begun.

“Do I not buy you everything you wish for? Anything you ask? You merely have to give voice to what you desire, and I shall have it procured for you. But you do not leave. Not without my express permission.”

It had only gone downhill from there.

Astarion snapped back from his reverie when he noticed Ban had ignored his verbal barb. He watched her, realizing this was the first genuine shred of emotion he’d seen from her in weeks. Something was bothering her about having the artisan guilds over for a party, and it piqued his interest. His concern too, of course. But he would never admit that. Even to himself.

He sat up straighter, aiming his words carefully. Precisely.

“My little love,” he cooed, “What… exactly is the issue with our soon-to-be guests? I had assumed you would love to have them over, considering it was your idea to reach out to them and form alliances in the first place.”

Ban froze. Her eyes widened as Astarion asked her this question. While he had yet to compel her to do anything, there was no evidence that he couldn't. Perhaps he already had, and she was unaware. Compulsion was the thing she was most terrified of, because the moment he started - the moment he considered it necessary to keep her - would be the moment she’d lose what little of herself she had left.

So she decided to be honest.

“I never told you where I came from, did I?” she said.

He shook his head. “I doubt you had humbler origins than I did, but no. You have not.”

Ban laughed bitterly and braced herself, pouring out another glass of blood.

“I came from one of the guild’s artisan families.”

His eyebrows rose, surprised and rather pleased, despite himself. They hadn’t had an actual conversation that wasn’t about Baldur’s Gate, its people, or their schemes in weeks. He reined in the venom he’d been wielding so often these days, letting his curiosity take over for the time being.

“Which one? Ca-” he bit his lip, “My former master knew a lot of these guilds. They helped maintain the palace and procured items for him. I have never heard of your family name, nor seen it.”

She laughed again, a real one this time, and his eyebrows rose even further, intrigued.

“We dealt in ornate mirrors.” That explained it. Of course Cazador would not have bothered with that.

The Ascendant huffed in response. “Ironic. Well. You’ll be glad to know I have yet to speak to any mirror-makers. I hadn’t decided on what type of mirror I want for our bedroom, or how grandiose it should be. Shall I ask your family?”

The last sentence was less a taunt and more a genuine question. She seemed to dread seeing them, but if she wanted them here - for whatever reason at all - he would be more than happy to oblige her.

In truth, all he really wanted was her happiness, to bask in the glow of her smile again. He just seemed to have lost sight of how to inspire it ever since he became this version of himself.

Ban took it the wrong way, of course, and visibly stiffened.

“I do not want to see them. I-” her voice cut off, hesitant, “I left years ago. They probably don't even know if I’m alive.”

The Ascendant felt an odd twinge in his chest, a familiar but long-forgotten sensation. None of it was visible on his face, however. He smirked. “Very well, pet.”

Astarion leaned over, fingers tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. Crimson eyes bored into Ban with an intensity that only seemed to unnerve her. “And don’t fret about them. The only family you’ll ever need is me.”

Ban had to look away. She couldn’t stare into those eyes and listen to that voice talk about her family. She had always envisioned this conversation to be one where she’d spill all her secrets to him, and he’d hold her, stroke her hair and tell her everything would be alright. That he understood and loved her anyway. But that time had passed, and so had that man she’d loved. What remained of him was a pale specter.

She had often asked herself if he was even the same man. She’d observed him, and with Gale’s assistance had studied books on the matter. In the end she had come to one painful conclusion: he was Astarion. His worst traits turned up and his greatest strengths diminished, but it was undoubtedly him.

There had been one night when he’d seemed like his old self. One night in the past five months that had given her some small glimmer of hope that he hadn’t completely changed.

She had woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of weeping. Astarion had been lying beside her, arms taut, hands clenched into fists, sweat soaking into the sheets. His face a rictus of pain, his cries a mix of unintelligible words and whimpers. She’d instinctively rushed to hold him; he’d woken up at her touch and his eyes had found hers.

They were his eyes.

“You’re okay, you’re here,” she had crooned, the same words she had repeated in the old days. They’d come back like no time had passed; as if he wasn’t what he was now. Like he was just her Astarion.

He had leaned into her touch, head resting on her chest.

“I’m sorry to wake you, darling,” he’d said; his use of her old nickname had almost made her sob. “He… I saw him again. I’d thought this would be over.”

She’d kissed his forehead then, holding him close. His conscious mind may have tried to deny it, but it seemed like his subconscious was still haunted by Cazador. He had clung to her for dear life that night; she had tried to stay awake, to stop time, so that perhaps he would stay that version of himself forever. But in the end, sleep had won, and as she’d drifted off she had heard him say something which she’d attributed to her own imagination.

“Thank you for still being here,” she’d thought he’d whispered against her chest, “I love you.”

They were spoken with such tenderness that she had doubted it was real. In the morning, he’d been gone from her side, already eating breakfast. He’d acted like nothing had happened in the night, and so she’d had her hopes dashed away; fleeting as they were she had still yearned for it to be real, wishing it had lasted longer than those few moments he was in her arms.

Ever since then, she had attempted to catch any glimpse of her Astarion in the Ascendant. There occasionally seemed to be some hint of him, but it was always too quick, too subtle, and after so many months she’d all but given up. Gone were the days when she’d known which of his honeyed words were lies and which were truth; it felt as though she was back in those days in the Grove when she couldn't read him. Even now, as her lord called himself her family, she found herself wincing internally.

On the outside, she offered him a smile.

“Thank you, Astarion. That means a lot.”

The Ascendant smiled, a toothy grin that would have looked at home in a shark’s maw.

“Of course! And we shall be a bigger family, if only you’ll let me-"

“No,” Ban said, and she was firm. This was another argument they’d constantly waged. He wanted to create an army of spawn, claiming that they would keep her company and serve her and their ambitions. He had promised to procure his spawn ethically, from willing subjects, but she had said no, refusing to doom anyone else to the same fate.

His eyes hardened, fingers twitching on her chin, but he let go. She released the breath she had been holding, worried that this would be when he’d hit the end of his rope and force her obedience.

He exhaled. “Fine. You’ll come around, once you’re alone and bored for a decade or so more.”

Astarion pushed away his breakfast. This hadn’t gone the way he’d wanted it to, and to be frank? Every day since that argument about her leaving the house and having her freedom had gone the same way: to barely veiled insults and chilly indifference. He hated it. He hated what they’d become.

At night when he made love to her, he imagined they were back in that clearing where it all began. At dawn, he watched her sleep and pretended they were back in the Shadow-Cursed lands. Fruitless reminiscing, but it was all he had to hold onto. Memories, each holding the ghost of their love, leaving him to wish it back to life.

He brushed those thoughts away. They were the thoughts of a much weaker man, and he was anything but.

But then why did his newly beating heart ache so much whenever they did this venomous song and dance?

[silverynight]

Urokodaki's blessing

When he met Tanjirou and Nezuko he thought about a lot of things; he worried about them and prayed they could survive in a world full of demons... He prayed Tanjirou could get what he wanted and find a cure for his little sister.

He also took care of them as his own children, despite knowing it was not a good idea to get attached.

Now Tanjirou sends him letters regularly and visits him every now and then. Urokodaki is proud; the boy has proven he can take care of himself and his sister Nezuko.

He's really happy for them.

However, he certainly didn't expect all the hashira to pay a couple of visits to him. They usually come when Tanjirou is there, but it's not all of them at once.

And Urokodaki has noticed their true intentions, of course he has, it's not like they're trying to be subtle, but unfortunately for them Tanjirou is on another level of obliviousness when it comes to those things.

He's not going to deny it amuses him and he's glad he's constantly wearing his mask around them.

Now, he must admit that sometimes it irritates him as well; Tanjirou is like his son now and of course Urokodaki wants nothing but the best for him. The Pillars are the best swordsmen alive and they have saved thousands of innocent people, but that doesn't make them a good match for Tanjirou.

However, it seems they recognize how important Urokodaki is to Tanjirou, because after a couple of months, they ask for Urokodaki's blessing to start formally courting Tanjirou.

He doesn't make it easy for them at first; he knows it'll be Tanjirou's choice in the end, but that doesn't mean he's not going to give a little bit of advantage to the ones he thinks are best for Tanjirou.

Of course Giyuu is the first one to get his approval; Urokodaki even wishes him good luck because Tanjirou is extremely oblivious and Giyuu can be really shy and insecure sometimes.

Shinobu wins him over easily; she gets to the point and tells him everything she can give Tanjirou and how she'll take care of him. Urokodaki is more than impressed.

Now, Mitsuri is the other one who gets permission to start courting the sunshine, Urokodaki tries not to chuckle at the nickname because he must admit it suits Tanjirou really well.

Mitsuri is so sweet and charming she even convinces Urokodaki to give Obanai a chance as well which he eventually, although a little bit reluctantly, does.

Tengen doesn't get his approval the first time.

"You're married already."

"My wives love him too," Tengen assures him, which, to be honest, surprises Urokodaki. Usually when things like that happen, someone ends up getting jealous and hurt. But it seems the sound hashira is being completely honest.

"Come back in a few weeks if you're serious about him, then you can ask me again."

Sanemi doesn't even get the chance to explain himself, he gets a firm 'No'. Urokodaki knows everything that happened during Nezuko's trial and he's not sure he trusts him after he stabbed Nezuko and tried to hurt Tanjirou too.

What makes him hesitate for a moment is the devastated smell that reaches his nose as Sanemi leaves his house after saying goodbye to Tanjirou.

Urokodaki is not sure about Kyojuro, he's too intense; he's constantly invading Tanjirou's personal space, although to be fair the boy doesn't seem to mind. However, Urokodaki has seen Shinjuro lately and he's not sure he wants Tanjirou to become part of that family.

Kyojuro promises to come back and keep doing his best to earn Urokodaki's approval which makes him win a lot of good points.

"Aren't you too young for this?" Urokodaki asks Muichiro as soon as the boy says he wants to talk to him.

"I'm only one year younger than Tanjirou."

Urokodaki promises him to think about it at least. When he sees Gyomei, he doesn't even roll his eyes but wonders what exactly Tanjirou did in order to have all the hashira wrapped around his pinky like that.

It doesn't take Gyomei a lot to convince Urokodaki; he's the strongest Pillar and yet he's always been kind and gentle with Tanjirou. Urokodaki knows that if the boy chooses him he'll be in good hands.

After a while and watching how everyone treats and looks at Tanjirou, Urokodaki gives in and allows Tengen, Kyojuro, Muichiro and even Sanemi (after finding out he actually apologized to Tanjirou and Nezuko) to court the boy.

Besides, he knows it'll take a while for something to actually happen because no matter how blunt all the Pillars are, Tanjirou is unbelievable oblivious.

Sometimes it amuses him watching them all together, trying to draw Tanjirou's attention and even growling at each other for it. Because even if they have his blessing now that doesn't mean Urokodaki is going to help them.

That's something they have to win on their own.

***

Patreon

[strangelyunfinshed]

Anything You Want | Steve Harrington

Mr. Harrington's Secretary AU | 18+ No Minors

Summary: Steve stops by when his father isn't in the office asking for your help with the copier.

TW: FemReader. BJ, Fingering, Tiddy Fucking, P In V Cream Pie. Dirty Talk.

WC: 3909

“Your father isn’t here, Steven.”

His name has you looking up from the thick file spread across your desk. Steve Harrington is standing across the room, his tall body leaning forward, one hand on the older woman’s desk, the other behind his back, holding a small paper bag.

“Well, aren’t you looking nice today, Lorna,” his words drip with sugar. The gray-haired office manager peers over her glasses at him, her ordinarily sour face softening faster than a ripe avocado. 

He’s been finding excuses to visit you at work since the first time he found you standing alone at one of the events the company threw semi-regularly. A bunch of rich men congratulating each other on being masters of the universe, dragging along their trophy wives and other accouterments. In John Harrington’s case, that included his charming, handsome son, who would follow in his footsteps, and the hot young secretary that everyone assumed he was chasing around the desk. What the other men telling bad jokes and drinking top shelf scotch didn’t know is that the son wanted nothing to do with his father’s business and the secretary wasn’t putting out. 

“Is that a new blouse?” He asks, brushing a little of that golden-brown hair off his forehead, giving her every ounce of his attention.

“It is. I got from the JC Penny last weekend,” she giggles like a woman half her age as he leans closer, giving her that winning Harrington smile.

“I thought so,” he winks, “My dad asked me to pick up a copy of the file he needs, and on my way here, I passed the bakery over on Main, so I stopped in and got your favorite.” He pulls the paper bag out from behind his back and sets it on the desk in front of Lorna. 

Her eyes widen, and her mouth forms an O as she pinches the top of the bag and slides it closer, “Thank you, Steven. That was so thoughtful.”

“My pleasure,” he says, rapping his knuckles on her desk twice before straightening and turning towards you, “Do you have that file ready?”

“Which file was that?” you ask, trying to hide your amused smile.

“I think you know,” his tongue darts out, wetting his plush lips as he casually strolls over to your desk.

“Hmmm,” you tap your index finger against your mouth, “Yes, I think I know which one. I still need to make a copy.”

“I can do it,” Lorna calls from her desk, the paper bag crinkling as she pulls out a fluffy cupcake piled high with chocolate frosting. 

“You just enjoy that. I’ll give her a hand,” Steve calls over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off you. 

Shuffling some papers, you pull a green file folder from the bottom of the stack and hug it to your chest as you push away from your desk, “Thank you, Steven. That would be very helpful.”

His lips twist with a smirk as he follows you down the hall to the copy room, watching your hips sway in the tight skirt that hugs your ass just right.

The overhead fluorescents pop and hum when you flip the switch and step inside the small room with Steve coming in after you, reaching back to twist the lock on the door handle without even looking. 

“Where’s my cupcake?” You ask, batting your lashes and tossing the file on top of one of the two copiers that fill the space.

“Your mouth is going to be too busy for cupcakes,” his hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you close as his lips seal over yours. He wastes no time. His tongue pushes inside, stealing your breath. His muscles tense under your fingers as you move your hands up and down his polo-covered chest and moan into the kiss. 

“We have to be quiet, honey,” his kisses slow to soft pecks, “Can’t have Lorna figuring out your cumming on company time.”

“Oh, is that what’s happening?”

With his thumb and forefinger holding your chin, he ghosts his lips over yours, “Turn around and put your hands on the copier.”

Taking a moment to consider, you look up at him from under your lashes while letting your hand run down from the center of his chest to the hard bulge in his pants. The corner of your mouth rises when you feel him twitching in his jeans. With a shiver, you let him go and turn around. Exaggerating your movements, you place both hands on the glass plate arching your back and widening your stance as you lean forward. He drops down behind you, wrapping his hands around the front of your knees, drawing circles on the back with his thumbs. 

“That tickles,” you giggle, squirming in his hold. 

“Shhh,” he reminds you, lips placing an open-mouthed kiss on your calf. The slight roughness of his palms leaves your smooth skin tingling as his hands start their torturously slow slide up your legs, the tip of his nose dragging behind his thumb just before the wet press of his lips and tongue. He’s careful to leave no gaps, mouth a damp trail up the back of your thigh. The material of your skirt bunches against his wrists, rising with his hands. His thumbs tease the hem of your high-cut lace panties as your skirt is pushed higher until it’s rucked up around your hips. He nips the curve between your ass and thigh and soothes it with his tongue before brushing his nose over your center, breathing you in. Slick soaks your panties as you anticipate him pulling them to the side and licking into you, but those big hands stay gripping your hips, and his mouth moves along your pantyline, sucking at the flesh of your ass.

“Steve.”

“What is it, honey?” His question is followed by the pinch of his teeth. 

“I need you,” you complain, reaching back, running your fingers through his hair, giving it a tug when he pays you no heed. 

“So impatient,” he scolds, rising to his full height, holding you around the middle, sweetly kissing your temple, “Be good for just a little longer. I need a picture of my pretty girl for my wallet.”

“A picture? Wha-“

He spins you around quickly and cuts you off with his hungry lips, his hands slide down your waist until they wrap around the back of your thighs, and he lifts you onto the copier. A squeak of protest passes from your mouth to his when your hot skin comes in contact with the cool glass, and you rock from side to side, but he doesn’t relent. Holding you in place with a hand on your neck, his tongue tangles with yours, keeping you focused on his kiss as his other hand starts the copier whirring. A light flashes under you, moving from left to right, followed by the whoosh and click of papers printed with a black and white copy of the globes of your ass barely covered by your underwear. 

“That’s what you wanted?” you giggle against his lips.

“Uh-huh,” he smiles, ending the kiss by resting his forehead against yours, “but that’s not the only thing I want.” His hand smooths up your thigh until he can rub over the damp patch on your panties. His smirk returns when your mouth drops open, and you inhale sharply.

“You’re so pretty like this.” He moves his hand away from where you want it and uses the backs of his fingers to brush your heated cheek. 

“So soft,” his index finger trails from the collar of your silky shirt until he reaches the first button where it’s joined by the fingers from his other hand, “But not as soft as what’s underneath.” He leans forward, attaching his lips to your neck while he works them open. His mouth moves lower as he spreads open your shirt, kissing down the swell of your breast to the edge of the delicate lace. He pulls away to take in the sight of what he’s just uncovered.

“Beautiful,” the word floats breathy from his lips as he unhooks the metal clasp between your tits. Peeling back one side at a time, his eyes turn dreamy and heavy-lidded as he drinks you in. His hands move to cup your breasts, loving the way you fill them. The first touch of his lips against your pebbled nipple has the breath rushing from your lungs in a quiet whine. He sucks hard while swirling his tongue, a satisfied hum rumbling from his throat. 

“Oh, fuuu,” you bite down on your lip to keep from cursing. He smiles against you, taking his time before moving to your other side, sucking until you’re tipping your head back and arching into him. The copier creaks as you squirm, trying to relieve the growing ache.

“Please,” clutching at shoulders, pulling his head up so you can look into his eyes, “Please, Steve.”

His breath comes quickly through parted lips that hover an inch from yours. The inky black of his pupils crowds out the hazel. He reaches out to trace your kiss-stung bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, but you hold his large hand between both of yours and suck his thumb into your mouth. 

“How about a few more pictures? With my hands on you. Would you like that?” 

Whining in desperate confirmation, your hands join his on the copier to lift your hips and slide down your panties. They only make it to mid-thigh when you’re grabbing his hand and pressing it to your needy cunt. 

“Jesus,” his fingers part your wet lips to explore your slippery folds, “You’re dripping onto the glass.”

He curls back his other fingers, so just his index and middle circle your clit before sliding down to tease your entrance. Your grip on his wrist tightens as you whimper, rocking your hips, trying to get him inside you. 

“All this from a few kisses?”

Two thick fingers push inside you, replacing the ache with a stretch. He keeps going, curving his fingers to reach the spot that only he’s been able to find, deep enough that his thumb can rub circles around your pulsing bundle of nerves. It takes every ounce of your will to not cry out at the onslaught of pleasure. 

“There you go, honey. I’ll always give you what you want.”

Fisting the front of his shirt, you draw him closer, eyes fluttering closed as your lips connect and your tongue slides against his. Blue-green flashes permeate the darkness behind your lids as the machine captures images of his fingers disappearing inside you. More wetness trickles, aiding his movements when you realize all this is to satisfy his need to have you even when you’re apart.

“You make me feel so good,” you whisper, taking his bottom lip between yours.

“Yeah?” He asks, licking into your mouth, increasing the pace of his fingers, “Am I gonna make you cum?” 

“Mmmhmm,” you moan around his lips and tongue as your inner muscles tighten, and you begin your climb. With your fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck, you relax into his kiss. There’s no need to chase it, you can trust him to get you there. He always does. 

“That’s it,” he says, feeling you fluttering around him, “You get so tight,” his fingers don’t stop even when the lighting hits and your legs shake, “Give me just a little more.”

Clutching onto him, your fingers dig into his skin as your body jolts uncontrollably. He covers your mouth with his trying to muffle your cries, and keeps working you until you just can’t –it’s too much. His fingers slow to a gentle in and out, his thumb comes off your clit. He lets you come down, resting his forehead against yours, tiny kisses wherever his lips can reach without moving you. 

“I’m going to lunch,” Lorna shouts, her voice slightly muffled behind the closed door.

“Okay,” you yell, grinning at Steve, shaking your head, “We’re almost done.”

“She’s coming,” he calls, as his thumb taps your clit, sending an aftershock rocketing through you.

“Alright. Back in an hour,” she hollers right before the outer office door squeaks and clicks shut.

The smug look on his face has you pushing at his shoulder, silently scolding him. He chuckles, his face taking on a well-practiced look of innocence even as he pulls his finger from inside you and licks them clean. He kisses you once to share the taste before helping you down from the copier.

“Can you hand me my underwear?” 

“We’re not done,” his hands close over your fingers, stopping you from straightening your clothes, “I have an idea. Come with me.”

He twists the lock on the door handle, sticking his head out to confirm the office is empty, and grabs your hand pulling you out of the copier room, barely dressed. 

“Steeeve,” you squeal as you move through the empty office, gripping the front of your shirt to keep it closed until you’re standing in front of Mr. Harrington’s locked office door.

“Where did you get that?” Your eyes widen when he pulls a key from his pocket and inserts it smoothly into the lock. The corner of his mouth raises in a sly smile as the door opens, and he ushers you inside, closing the door behind you.

The blinds are drawn with their slats partially open, creating vertical lines of light against the navy blue carpet and large cherry desk. Steve flips one of the switches next to the door, turning on the three two stained glass lamps that flank the large built-in bookcase behind the desk, lighting up the room with soft light. 

“What’s this idea?” The slickness between your legs, reminding you still have another hour before anyone will return. Steve planned this well.

“Well,” he pulls out the high-backed leather chair from the desk, turning towards the side before sitting with his legs spread wide, hands moving to his belt, “What do you think? Wanna get on your knees for me, honey?”

“Hmmm,” you pretend to consider his offer as you round the desk trailing your fingertips on the shiny finish of the desk, moving until you’re standing between his parted legs, looking down at the outline of the hard cock straining against his jeans. Gripping the top of the chair, you lean it back, bending slightly, bringing you level with his face. His hands move to your open shirt, pushing it back away from your breasts so he can knead them. His mouth chases yours, but you deny him, nipping his top lip lightly before slowly dropping to your knees. 

“Fuck,” his hips jump as you pop open the button on his jeans and slide down the zipper.

“Is this why I didn’t get a cupcake?” You pout, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and boxers, and he raises his hips so you can slip them down, his thick length bobbing out from his body finally freed. Pink with a long veiny shaft that’s just as pretty as the rest of him. 

“Oh, I think what you’re getting is a much bigger treat.” His eyes close for a moment as your hand wraps around the base, and you kiss the smooth, shiny tip. It’s your turn to smirk when his lids open revealing eyes that are almost black. Opening your mouth, you stick out your tongue, letting it sweep around the head before licking up and down the length. 

“Mmm,” the vibrations from your lips tease his sensitive spot, “I think you’re right.” You take another long lick before finally taking as much of him as you can into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks while your hand works the base.

A groan rumbles from behind his clenched teeth, “Look at you,” he smooths some hair back from your face as you bob up and down on his cock, “I bet every man in this office wants to see you like this, but you’re mine,” his hips rise, fucking into your mouth, “They can’t have you.”

Sticking your tongue out, you let him use your mouth until your jaw starts to ache. He doesn’t stop flexing when you switch to your hand, licking at his slit, running your tongue along the underside until reaching the base to gently suck one of his heavy balls. 

“Christ,” his fingers tightly grip the leather arm of the chair as the precum starts leaking from his tip, and you move your mouth back up his shaft, collecting it before it drips. He sneaks a hand between you, rolling your nipple with the rough pads of his fingers, the zap of electricity that shoots to your core, highlighting how wet and needy you’ve become. 

Pulling back, you rise higher on your knees, smiling as you run your hands up from your hips to the softness of your chest. Steve’s breath hitches, and his lips part as you lean forward, fitting his cock in the valley of your breasts, pushing them together, bouncing them up and down his shaft.

“Jesus-fuck-baby,” his words string together, his hips jumping in the chair involuntarily. A whimper comes from you at the sight of his rudy leaking tip sliding up your chest, your tongue snaking out to chase it. 

“Fuck, that’s enough,” he pants, using his feet to push the chair back, the wheels squeaking. He stares at you breathing hard, and you know how wild you must look. Hair a mess. Lips red and swollen. Clothes open and askew.

“Bend over the desk. I want to feel you squeezing me when I cum.”

Desperation launches you both into a flurry. Steve stands quickly, shoving his pants further down his thighs, sending the desk chair careening backward into a bookcase. While you’re off the floor, positioning yourself over the polished wooden desk, tugging your skirt high around your waist, pushing back your hips, ready to take anything he’ll give you. 

“Plea‐”

“I’m here,” he wraps a hand around your thigh, bringing one of your knees to the edge of the desk, opening your sticky wetness to the cool air, “I won’t make you wait.”

With a hand around his base, he glides through your folds, back and forth, making you throb until his tip catches at your entrance and pushes in slowly, letting you feel every ridge, every vein, every inch of him. Your muscles stretch and clench, trying to draw him in deeper. 

“That’s it, good girl. Take it all,” he groans, moving until he’s bottomed out and his hips are pressed tight against you. Through the thick fog of lust and need, there’s a brief moment spent savoring the connection before he begins to move in long, hard strokes, pulling out almost all the way before driving in with the snap of his hips. The desk jerks across the carpet, and an organizer falls, spilling its contents, pens embossed with Harrington roll under the furniture. White dots burst in your vision with every thrust. You’re burning for him. He struck the match the evening you met, and you’ll never have enough. 

“This is where I belong,” his hand slides around your hip, pressing down just above your pubic bone, feeling himself moving inside you, “Right here in your warm cunt. Want you to feel me for the rest of the day,” his fingers move lower until they’re drawing circles over your clit, “I need you to cum for me.” 

His rhythm picks up, making the fire burn hotter. Your body tightens, obeying him without giving you a choice. Twisting to look over your shoulder, you grab at his shirt, bringing him closer until your gasping mouths meet.

 “Anything,” it’s a whisper against his lips, a spark from the blaze.

“What, honey?” The question rises with the smoke.

“Anything you want.”

A line creases his brow, and there’s something behind his eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. He spins you back around, wrapping an arm around your middle, pulling your back flush against his chest, your knee falling from the desk. He’s holding you together when you’re so close to falling apart. His mouth moves up your neck to your ear.

“Just want this,” he adds more pressure to the hand working between your thighs. Tiny circles that feel closer to a cyclone, “Just want you,” he moves in short bursts like he can’t bear to leave, right at the edge, swelling inside you, “Always want you.”

You let go into the white-hot flame, but you’re not alone. It consumes you both. Crying out, you quake around him, feeling his hot release, hearing his satisfied groans. Your bodies writhe until all that’s left is embers. The wall clocks measured ticks seem louder, the only sound in the now quiet room apart from both of your shuddering breaths.

He presses a kiss to the silk covering your shoulder and begins slipping away. Your muscles contract in protest, trying to keep him longer, but he’s right. Once he’s gone, you can still feel him. He moves around you, helping you clean up, straightening the disarray.

“Why are you still here, Steven?” Lorna frowns disapprovingly at the way Steve is perched on the corner of her desk, with one of her picture frames in his hand.

“Is this your daughter?” 

She snatches the frame from his hand as you quietly make your way back from the restroom with all your buttons buttoned and hair smoothed back into place. Taking your seat you pick up the small stack of photocopies tapping them on the desk to straighten them. 

“Doesn’t your father need that file?” She questions.

“That’s right he does,” he snaps his fingers like he just remembered,” I better get going. I just didn’t want to leave this pretty girl all alone,” he looks over his shoulder at you, giving you a wink. She sighs loudly and goes about settling at her desk. 

The black and white images of his hands and your panties are hidden when you fold the papers into thirds before stuffing  them in an envelope and holding it in the air, waiting for him to come and take it from you. Looking smug, he wanders over collecting his prize from your outstretched hand.

“Listen,” he says, leaning close, keeping his voice low, “Can I take you out tonight? Buy you dinner?”

“Hmm, that depends, Steven,” you busy yourself with the files on the desk, “Is there going to be dessert?”

“I’ll pick you up at six,” the confident Harrington smile stretches across his face. He doesn’t say anything else, just a wave to Lorna as he disappears through the door, envelope in hand. Your eyes follow him through the window glass, watching as he ducks into his BMW and drives off.

“Ahem,” Lorna clears her throat, breaking you from your stare, “I’d nip that in the bud if I were you. That boy’s got a crush, and it’s gonna lead to nothing but trouble.”

“Of course,” you say, turning towards the screen of your word processor, fingers clicking across the keyboard as you type up a letter. Satisfied with your answer she goes back to her work. Glancing up at the clock, you count the hours until six, the ache between your thighs reminds you that trouble is exactly what you want.

Secertary AU Masterlist Here

If you've enjoyed this fic, please reblog and leave a comment. I'd love to hear from you. Let me know if you'd like to see more of the secretary reader.

@loveshotzz @superblysubpar @boomhauer @myobmaya @litereader

[aziraphales-library]

do you happen to know any fics with fem dressing aziraphale, but hes still male? dont get me wrong i love ineffable wives, and fem aziraphale but im dying to see aziraphale in fem clothing as male presenting in a fic!! :))

Here are some fics with fem he/him Aziraphale...

In The Eye Of The Beholder by Puerinrotis (G)

Aziraphale didn’t like presenting as a woman. He hadn’t done it in a hundred years, at least, and he would’ve been content to never do it again. Yet, when Crowley came to him, saying that he got an invite to Wimbledon and he needed a lady to bring along, the angel agreed to go.

Four Times Crowley Went Too Far and One Time Aziraphale Went Too Far by Mitch_D_Punk (T)

Throughout all of human history, the rogue Demon and not so good Angel kept running into each other. No matter where they were, the other always seemed to be there. This is just a fluffy four + one of extra scenarios through out human history with Aziraphale and Crowley just generally making a mess of things and enjoying human life.

The Serpent and the Lady by summerofspock (T)

Aziraphale was thankful Crowley was nowhere to be seen. He would never let Aziraphale live this down. Bestowing a kiss upon the winner of a tourney? Crowley would surely mock him for years to come.

An Arrangement of Convenience by Blue_Sparkle (E)

Aziraphale works to purchase a bookshop space, but currently being a woman-shaped creature has its drawbacks when faced with rude property owners. The most obvious solution is to get Crowley to act as his husband and deal with all that nonsense, of course.

Miss Cosmos Beauty Pageant - The Winner Takes it All by DreamsOfAlexandria (T)

“It was all for the greater good,” adds Gabriel. “I really don’t know what the two of you like about Earth so much, but I think we ALL can agree that we do not want to fight another war. Right, sunshine?” Aziraphale nods weakly and Crowley slowly sits down again, still looking furious. The room is silent for a moment. “So,” Crowley finally asks, “What is the Great Plan?” “Oh, it’s quite clever. The two of you will enter the Miss Cosmos Beauty Pageant, make it to the final round and a jury of humans will announce a winner. The winning side get’s to rule over Earth and Heaven and Hell both will acknowledge the outcome. There will be no war for the rest of eternity.” Gabriel smiles cheerfully at Aziraphale and Crowley. “Right, good one,” Crowley snorts. “So, what’s the real plan?”

Time Flies (When You're Having Fun) by Mussimm (E)

Versailles, 1769 - Aziraphale has a blessing to perform at a masquerade ball and it's important that he gets this one right. So important, in fact, that he can't seem to leave until he does. But with a fancy dress, an attentive demon and an endless supply of champagne, it's a little challenging to stay on mission.

- Mod D

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Pass the Star

Azalea Fell meets Antoinette Crowley at her first roller derby bout with a new league. After an incident leads to a trip to A&E, the two are drawn to one another but Crowley is reluctant to potentially ruin a great friendship for something more.

Length: 57,618 Words

AO3 Rating: Explicit/ Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, Human AU

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by mageofthepeople

*Minor Spoilers* I'm super totally normal about this one. I've been on an ineffable wives obsession this week and that was largely due to this fic. This is everything I want in a wives story! It's fun, engaging, creative, and a total win for lesbians.

Azalea and Crowley are derby girls on rival teams. I love the derby use here because, well it's hot, but also it's a fun sport that I can totally understand these two enjoying. Crowley is obvious to understand, it's physical and aggressive, outside the norm, and again hot. But the hard work here was to make Azalea fit in this space. The author does this by giving us a character that has already done some of the work of leaving her repressive past behind. She's uniquely herself, has a strong moral code, still hates customers and selling books, and has a sense of fashion and style that doesn't give a damn what other people think. She's still our sexy bookseller, but with tattoos and skates! Ugh tattooed omens is like catnip to me!

But the setting also works because it's well crafted! If you didn't have an obsession with the Elliot Page movie Whip It like I did, and don't know anything about roller derby, there's no worry here. You'll be able to follow right along. And the side characters fit into this word great! Ana was a surprise use, and one that I enjoyed! I feel like we usually see a Gabriel type character in the role that Ana fills here, so I loved the shake up. Plus, CAT. It's an instant win for me when there's a cat.

And did I mention it's hot?? The sex scenes in here are a little shorter, but excellent, and something to keep thinking about afterwards for sure. It's mostly safe in public overall, but for me I devoured it in one sitting at home. It's set up well for something to read in smaller bits but I cannot resist a good binge read. It's also clearly setting up for a sequel and honey, I'm seated. I'm subscribed and ready to go the moment more of this series drops. Already after my first draft of this post we got one! So I will end with a reminder to always subscribe to your favorite authors, because if I hadn't been I may have missed another entry to this universe and I'm an addict to these girls.

Read it here, fic by mageofthepeople

[haddonfieldwhore]

silver & gold - aleksander barkov

aleksander barkov x mcdavid!reader

summary: what better time for the world to find out about your private relationship than the stanley cup final?

warnings: private but not secret relationship?, sprinkle of angst, reader is mcdavid’s younger sister, i switch from calling him aleksander and sasha which i hope isn’t too confusing, i think i hate this but im posting it anyway sorry

word count: 1.9k

“romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours”

you had a habit of getting yourself into complicated situations, but as you sat with your family in the crowd, you decided you would never be able to outdo yourself with this one.

only moments were left in game 7 of the stanley cup final between the edmonton oilers and the florida panthers, the latter ahead by just one goal as the window of opportunity to change that grew smaller and smaller for the oilers.

your older brother, connor was the captain of the edmonton team, and you hated to think of how much it would hurt him to lose this game, and have to go home without the stanley cup; the thing he had dreamed of for as long as you could remember. edmonton was a good team, no doubt about it, but they were running out of time. you felt your moms grip on your hand tighten even more than it already was, her fingers wrapped around yours like a vice, and your breath caught in your throat as the seconds ticked away on the score clock.

you loved your brother, and would be overjoyed if he led his team to win the cup, but there was a small part of you that was rooting for florida as well. a part of your heart that belonged to someone here in sunrise.

the crowd was on their feet, the building roaring with cheers and applause as you watched the players scramble for the puck against the boards, unable to take your eyes off your brother until the sound of the buzzer snapped you out of it.

it was over.

the panthers were the stanley cup champions.

you didn’t know how to feel; the heartbreak and devastation radiated off of your family and connor’s fiancé lauren. combined with the volume of the fans in the arena, you found it hard to breathe. your eyes met connor’s as he slowly made his way off the ice, and your heart sank for him; this had meant the world to him and you knew it. as he and the rest of the oilers players slowly made their way down the tunnel in defeat, your eyes landed on a different team captain. your fingers fiddled absentmindedly with the charm on your bracelet, in particular the heart with the number 16 engraved on it; a gift from your boyfriend.

the panthers players celebrated their victory, and you watched as aleksander barkov became the first finnish captain to hoist the stanley cup. as the panthers each took turns hoisting the silver trophy until they’d all had a turn, you realized you were crying; but although you were sad for your brother, they were tears of joy.

“you can go sweetie, it’s okay,” your moms voice snapped you out of it, a slight tremble in her tone as you gave her the tightest hug you could muster, before sneaking out of the private box you all had been seated in and making your way to ice level. after a few shortcuts and showing a lot of arena staff your id so they would let you in, you had made it to where the rest of the families were waiting to join the team on the ice to celebrate.

you got a few confused looks sent your way from some of the other wives and girlfriends, and your stomach did a flip. it was a weird feeling, like you were an outsider invading a space that wasn’t meant for you; reminding you that not everyone knew who you were. correction, they knew you were connor mcdavids sister, not that you were aleksander barkovs girlfriend.

you had met sasha a few years ago at one of the many nhl events you’d attended with your brother, and you had found yourself immediately charmed by the panthers captain. you had never met a man so talented yet so humble, and it made a lasting impression. more encounters over the years led to you to of you keeping in touch and growing to be close friends, eventually getting together, though opting to keep your relationship private for a multitude of reasons, your brother being one of them.

it’s not that your relationship was a shameful secret, you just both were content with keeping it out of the public eye, and didn’t want the attention the media would bring to both of you for it.

it had even been nearly 8 months of the two of you dating (partly due to sasha’s busy schedule) before you told anyone in your family that you were together.

connor probably would have taken the news that you were dating a florida panther a lot worse if barkov wasn’t so respected within the league, and overall just a great guy on and off the ice.

“you’ve been dating someone for how long and didn’t tell me?” he had replied when you told him, and while you could tell he was upset, he thankfully didn’t sound as angry as you had anticipated.

“connor-“

“and a panther, you traitor,” he teased, but he cracked a smile and you felt a wave of relief.

“i wanted to tell you, i really did.” you hated keeping secrets from your family, and you hoped they’d have similar reactions when you told them; not unhappy with your choice but just suprised you’d kept it hidden for so long.

“i know you did, and it will take some getting used to, for sure.” you nodded in response. “but i’m happy for you, he’s a great guy.” connor smiled, and you hugged him.

“thank you for not freaking out about this.”

“did you think i would?” connor asked.

“i wasn’t sure - i could understand if you did,” you admitted.

“i can tell he makes you happy - you sort of light up when you talk about him. that’s what matters,” he smiled. “and it’s kind of impressive that the media hasn’t caught you guys out together or anything. you do have a pretty famous brother- hey!” he laughed as you punched his arm playfully.

there had definitely been times that the media (mostly gossip blogs) had speculated that sasha was seeing someone, and there had even been a few pictures caught and posted over the course of your relationship, but nothing that you could be identified in. the headline ‘panthers captain spotted with mystery woman’ had crossed your feed once or twice, but nothing concrete had ever been published. you and aleksander had discussed from the start that you would both prefer to keep things quiet as not to stir up drama, and you were mostly successful.

“yeah, we’ve been pretty lucky,” you sighed. there was something special about having something so personal and special just between you and sasha - and you were grateful you’d been able to keep it just your own for so long.

“we’re just private people, that’s all. even some of the other panthers didn’t know for the longest time,” you laughed as you remembered some of their reactions when they’d finally found out about you and sasha; tkachuk especially, the star winger being both suprised and happy for his captain when he found out.

“you know i love you no matter what right?” connor asked, and you smiled, giving him another hug.

“i know. i love you too, con.”

that had been a year ago, and telling the rest of your family had gone similarly well, any hurt your mother felt from not being told sooner overpowered by her happiness for you and sasha, and your father also approved.

despite the few uncertain glances, you were greeted with a smile by some of the wags you had become close with. you mostly kept to yourself, not taking part in a lot of the wag activities, which you sometimes regretted but mostly didn’t mind. you heard a few hushed whispers, overhearing your last name mentioned in confusion as ellie, tkachuks girlfriend coming over to give you a hug.

“hey,” she smiled as your arms wrapped around her in response. she was your closest friend amongst them, as sasha and matthew were such good friends.

“hey, oh my god,” you exclaimed, laughing in excitement as she squeezed you tightly. “they did it!” you finally said, and while you knew your family wanted a different outcome, right now your heart was here; in florida.

“they did it!” she repeated as a few of the other girls joined in the hug. “are you coming out there with us?” she asked, and you took a deep breath.

“yeah, i am.”

you and sasha had discussed this already, and he assured you that he wanted you out there with him if they won the cup.

“i want to share this moment with you,” he had said when the subject came up one day. “you are the most important to me, and if people find out then that is when they find out.”

“there’s no going back after that, once people know-“ you worried he might regret giving up the privacy you’d worked so hard to keep for the near 2 years of your relationship.

“i don’t care if they know. what we have is still special and you should be there for such a special moment.”

you and the other family members got the signal that you could come out into the ice, and your heart hammered against your ribcage as the anxiety crept up on you. the roar of the crowd was defeaning, cheering and applause echoing off every surface of the arena, and for a moment you thought you were going to pass out.

but it all melted away the moment you saw aleksander, a grin stretched wide across his face as his eyes landed on you.

the captain skated over to you, his tall frame exaggerated by his skates as he towered over you and offered his hands to steady you on the ice, which was still slippery in heels despite the carpet that had been rolled out on top.

his eyes sparkled with the brightness of all the stars as he embraced you, and you couldn’t hold back the tears as your arms wrapped around him.

“you did it,” was all you could say, though you didn’t know if he could hear you over the sound of everyone around you celebrating. “i’m so proud of you!” you said next to his ear, and his arms tightened around you.

“sasha, come get a photo,” someone called, and he led you hand in hand to stand in front of a backdrop for photos with the cup.

“come on,” sasha tilted his head, gesturing for you to help him hold up the cup, and you did, though he held most of the weight of the trophy.

your eyes found your parents in the crowd, and you couldn’t help but realize they were watching the wrong child hoist the cup, and you dreaded how much that would hurt your brother.

you heard some of the panthers cheering and your gaze found them looking onward at their captain, and smiling as they saw you by his side.

“kiss her!” chucky yelled, earning a laugh from some of the guys and even a shy chuckle from aleksander.

the two of you handed the cup back, and his hands turned your chin towards him, and you looked up at his beautiful smiling face.

“well, kiss her,” you teased, and he blushed a shade of light pink, but leaned down and connected his lips to yours.

on any other day, this would be big news. but somehow you felt like this wouldn’t be the biggest panthers headline in the papers tomorrow.

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[marymary-diva17]

Pumpkin craving (modern au)

Jake x reader x neytiri

The month of Halloween and fall had finally begun, and with these seasons coming up meant many traditions will arrive as well. There was not only traditions coming back as well, many celebrations as well have returned in the month of October. Now it was time to get ready to celebration all of these traditions and celebrations that come, during the month of October.

Jake “ well sully family we have arrived at the pumpkin patch” the sully family had made their yearly trip to the pumpkin patch, a trip they made ever October to gets pumpkins to decorate their home with for the fall seasons. Along with getting any other fall decorations that were being sold at, stalls near by the pumpkins patch and anything else as well.

Tuk “ yeah we are finally here can I go pick out my pumpkin daddy please”

neytiri “ Tuk Tuk we can got get pumpkins soon your dad needs to park the car first”

y/n “ yes Tuk your mom is right but once we are parked we can go get you, a pumpkin baby girl”

loak “ heck yeah then we get to craved them later right mama”

Kiri “ yes I love craving the pumpkins it so fun”

neteyam “ it is fun do to”

y/n “ yes my lovely children we get to crave the pumpkins when we get home” the kids smiled they always love coming here, and when the car was soon parked everyone had gotten out of the car.

Jake “ okay well come on everyone let get going,but remember stay together we can’t be losing anyone”

kids “ yes dad”

Neytiri “ ma Jake and ma y/n do you remember we use to come here, and get pumpkins to crave and decorate”

y/n “ yes those days were so fun i remember putting on on his head, and winning the costume party contest we attend that year”

Jake “ hey I saw my chance and won the prize, but the best prizes was getting you two as my wives the next year” the kids had gad at their father words, seeing that he is clearly flirting with their moms right now.

loak “ dad really”

Jake “ wait you can’t hate my game”

neytiri “ well I have to agree our visit in the past, had been romantic and fun times for us to get close … and now look we are married to one girl who always had our attention and love” neytiri and kissed your right check making you smile and laugh.

Lo’ak “ okay enough of the flirting with our mama”

Tuk “ yes loak is right we have to get our pumpkins come on mama” Tuk soon grabbed your hand and started walking, towards the pumpkin patch as you laugh.

y/n “ yes baby girl we are going to get your pumpkins, are you kids coming or no”

older kids “ we are coming mama” the three older kids soon ran after their baby sister and mama, as their other parents were trying not to laugh. Along with giving you winks and smiles as well, making you shake your head. It was also a tradition of Jake and Neytiri to act lovely dove, during family outings of place they use to visits with you before the kids came into your lives.

neteyam “ hey mama/mom/ dad how many pumpkins can we get this year”

Jake “ well with the space we have in the back of the car, maybe everyone can get one of themselves and other one for the family”

loak “let’s get a big one for the family it will be cool”

neteyam “ that a amazing idea bro and we can have that one craved as well”

Kiri “ well we have to decide as a family on a good pumpkin”

Tuk “ working as a team is the right thing right” Tuk had looked at her parents, as they had nodded their heads in agreement with her as well.

Neytiri “ you are right Tuk Tuk now come on let’s go get the pumpkins” the family had started looking around, for their own individual pumpkins. After looking around and looking everyone had been able to find their own pumpkins.

Jake “ nice haul everyone I’m proud of our pumpkins this year, well I’m always proud of our pumpkins”

y/n “ before we leave we need to find the family pumpkin of the year” the family had place their pumpkins into the car, and were in need for their last pumpkin.

Tuk “ let check over there at the big pumpkin section”

Jake “ okay baby girl let go over there�� the kids and the couple had headed over there, it had taken been some time but they soon found the perfect pumkin for the family. Once they got all their pumpkins and did some shopping, mostly you and neytiri along with your daughters. As the boys had played some of the games near by, making the family laugh as well.

The sully family home

y/n “ okay we are doing the pumpkin craving outside, as it will be easy to clean up and we can compost the leftovers”

kiri " may I keep some of the seeds please"

neytiri " sure"

lo'ak " there she goes again being all one with. nature"

Jake " be nice to your sister lo'ak"

lo'ak " yes dad"

y/n " now come on let drawn some faces on these pumpkins, and your dad will help you cut them open" the kids had started drawing faces and once that was over it came time to open the pumpkins.

Jake " hey baby girl what do you do with this year seeds"

kiri " oh I plant them at the green house and we later harvest them when they are done dad"

Jake " oh cool"

kiri " along with keep some as a collect as well"

tuk " eww it so slimly"

lo'ak " it will always feel like that tuk" after cleaning out the pumpkins it was now time for the face to be done, the family had looked upon what they had made.

tuk " I love my pumpkin so much it so cute"

neytiri " you did a great job tuk tuk"

tuk " yeah"

Jake " hey let not forget the family pumpkin as well we need to make sure, it amazing as well for display"

lo'ak " yeah"

kiri " it should always be beautiful as well to gain attention"

neteyam " hey I'm with anything" the family had soon moved to the family pumpkin and it had gone good, the family had moved their pumpkins to the front of the house.

lo'ak " now let see if they stay here and no one comes to smash them. or it will be war"

Jake " lo'ak you can't go fight aonung again"

lo'ak " he started the battle dad I need to fight back for the family name"

Jake " you know as your adult I should be tell you to be the better person, but as father I'm told to encore you kids as well"

y/n " oh great mother you gave me two of them"

lo'ak " but you love us right mama"

y/n " yes I love you lo'ak"

Jake " what about me"

y/n " yes it love you as well my husband" you had kissed Jake making him smile and laugh.

y/n " now come on lets take a picture it will be fun" the kids had gather near their pumpkins as your had started taking picture of them.

y/n " well it seems like we have one seasonal tradition down"

Jake " along with more to come as well"

tuk " mama, mom, and dad come join us"

y/n " okay we are coming" the family had been able to take a picture together, as a family all with bright smiles as everything had gone super good today. The kids did have a good time with pumpkin craving as they did all the other years in the past, and it made another goof family photo as well. There were more traditions that will come as well.

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Fiction Free-for-All Book Bracket Tournament: Round 2A

Book summaries below:

Radio Silence by Alice Oseman

You probably think that Aled Last and I are going to fall in love or something. Since he is a boy and I am a girl.

I just wanted to say—we don’t.

Frances Janvier spends most of her time studying. When she’s not studying, she’s up in her room making fan art for her favorite podcast, Universe City.

Everyone knows Aled Last as that quiet boy who gets straight As. But no one knows he’s the creator of Universe City, who goes by the name Radio Silence.

When Frances gets a message from Radio Silence asking if she’ll collaborate with him, everything changes. Frances and Aled spend an entire summer working together and becoming best friends. They get each other when no one else does.

But when Aled’s identity as Radio Silence is revealed, Frances fears that the future of Universe City—and their friendship—is at risk. Aled helped her find her voice. Without him, will she have the courage to show the world who she really is? Or will she be met with radio silence?

Contemporary, coming of age, young adult

When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill

Alex Green is a young girl in a world much like ours, except for its most seminal event: the Mass Dragoning of 1955, when hundreds of thousands of ordinary wives and mothers sprouted wings, scales, and talons; left a trail of fiery destruction in their path; and took to the skies. Was it their choice? What will become of those left behind? Why did Alex’s beloved aunt Marla transform but her mother did not? Alex doesn’t know. It’s taboo to speak of.

Forced into silence, Alex nevertheless must face the consequences of this astonishing event: a mother more protective than ever; an absentee father; the upsetting insistence that her aunt never even existed; and watching her beloved cousin Bea become dangerously obsessed with the forbidden.

In this timely and timeless speculative novel, award-winning author Kelly Barnhill boldly explores rage, memory, and the tyranny of forced limitations. When Women Were Dragons exposes a world that wants to keep women small—their lives and their prospects—and examines what happens when they rise en masse and take up the space they deserve.

Fantasy, historical fiction, alternate history, 1950s, adult

[allasticus]

What battles within your own heart do you fight when you return from the battlefield?

Thoughts swarmed in the warrior’s mind, each one a specter of battles past. Blood, spilled across his blade like paint flung by a careless hand. Screams, echoing through the air as friend and foe alike fell to the dirt—some granted the mercy of a swift death, others left to linger in agony.

"The battlefield and the heart are not so different—both demand sacrifice. I have learned that a blade does not question the weight it carries, and neither do I. What I leave behind in war, I do not bring home. At least, that is what I tell myself."

Allasticus glanced at his weapon, then let his gaze drift over the armor that encased him—a second skin, worn in war and in the quiet moments between. There was no difference. Slowly, he sheathed his blade, exhaling a deep, steadying breath before he continued.

"There is no space for doubt, for grief, for second-guessing. Those are the battles that unravel men, that turn steel into rust. A warrior who carries the weight of every fallen comrade, every split-second decision, does not fight long before that weight buries him. So I set it aside. I sharpen my sword. I ready my armor. And when the next war calls, I answer—because that is what I was forged to do."

Yet the past was not so easily discarded. Other memories crept in, unbidden. Sons, husbands, wives, daughters—each wearing the colors of his enemies. Each cut down by his hand.

He looked at his hand now, turning it over as sunlight gleamed against the steel enshrouding his fingers. And oh, how they trembled.

"But if there is a battle within my heart, it is this—whether the man I once was still exists beneath the armor, or if all that remains is the soldier. Whether, in my silence, I have lost something vital that no victory can return. But such questions serve no master, and I have no time for a war I cannot win."

@kelzthalasbandtherion ty for the ask!

[sebbyisland]

akahika final thoughts (500 words + 1k supplementary content)

part 1

part 2

part 3 (you're here!)

Conclusion

It’s not mind-blowing to have some yuri or shojo influences in Weekly Shonen Jump magazine (or any shonen magazine). I mean, Blue Box is right there. What IS surprising, at least to me, is to see the Akahika rivalry take up so much narrative space. I love seeing girls who fight in a healthy way, and to have it take up space in the story rather than just a one-time thing is so satisfying to witness. I still can't believe the magazine that gave us Goku vs Vegeta, Naruto vs Sasuke, and Deku vs Kacchan now gives us Akane vs Hikaru (and Karashi. As a fun topping), and it feels completely natural with the rest of the Weekly Shonen Jump lineup. Similar to how shojo magazines have changed over time, we can see shonen magazines make changes by releasing a story like Akane-banashi. The fact an important rivalry for the shonen protagonist is informed by shojo and yuri story beats is just one of many ways Akane-banashi leads these changes.

I’ve wanted to make an essay about shojo rivalries for years, but if you had told me in the past that a shonen rivalry would inspire me to finally get it done, I would have told you, “be serious.” I have a love/hate relationship with shonen rivalries. I often find it dissatisfying when the protagonists rival is both most important to the protagonist’s story and most important to the protagonist’s personal life, but at the end, there’s this expectation that the protagonist still needs to adhere to social norms of what is actually supposed to be the most important part of your personal adult life, so now their rivalry can’t carry as much emotional weight as it once did. Honestly, it reminds me of Class S breakups because girls need to “grow up” into “real women.” Akahika, however, will never have that problem because while Hikaru is important to Akane’s STORY, she’s not the most important person in Akane’s life, nor is Akane the most important person in hers. This also means the emotional intensity of the Akahika dynamic is a bit more mellow than the average shonen protagonist rivalry, but I much rather have this so there’s room to watch Akane’s growth. I’m also a slow burn fan, so I could be biased.

In my biggest, most self-indulgent fantasies, Akane-banashi gets fully adapted into an anime and a live action film and Akahika becomes the next big shonen rivalry and the animated adaptation makes their homoerotic moments even more homoerotic and in the story conclusion Akahika run the Arakawa school together like how Issho and Shiguma do but better which basically makes them rakugo wives. Will any of that happen? Who knows! I don’t care. Akahika is already winning. 

As a final note: Thank you so much for reading this! Even if you only made it through a portion of it, I hope it was informative. I know I learned a lot in the process of putting things together, at least. The discussion of shojo rivals is really underdeveloped in fandom, so I hoped this could spark your interest in them! My inbox is always for questions. I ask that you please consider skimming through the Supplementary Materials before sending a message, though.

Supplementary Materials

I’m using this section to include any extra commentary that didn't fit the main essay + educational materials that might be useful.

Educational Resources

I am far from an expert in shojo or yuri. There is a lot of nuance I did not cover because that was not the focus and I am not someone informed enough to discuss it. I barely feel like I'm informed enough to write this essay 😭. If you would like to learn more about the topics discussed (in English) from people who actually know about this stuff, I recommend reading essays like this one from a professor in manga + gender studies , this huge resource on yuri research, and the following blogs: okazu.yuricon.com, @/fehyesvintagemanga, @/osharenippon, @/retroyousei, @/brickme, @/yurimother and this article she wrote, @/empty-movement, @/animefeminist, @/ani-mentation, and also this paper on the early shojo decades. Oh, and this documentary on Takarazuka. And these interviews with a yuri author that inspired the "this too is yuri" meme.

Some commonly cited books are By Your Side: The First 100 Years of Yuri Anime and Manga which is by the host of the okazu.yuricon blog I mentioned in the paragraph above, and Boys Love Manga and Beyond: History, Culture, and Community in Japan. It might be more accessible to read an academic review of these books.

Bishonen/girl prince/boy prince aesthetics are informed by multiple different pop culture influences, not just the Takarazuka Revue. You can learn about one such influence here.

If you are interested in learning more about Takarazuka Revue, or watching a performance from a Takarazuka troupe, there is a fan wiki written in English for this very purpose.

If you don't watch Utena, you should at the very least watch Shiori's monologue since this was a big inspiration for part 2. You can also literally watch all of Utena eng sub/dub for free on Youtube (trigger warning list).

This isn't necessarily educational, but if you read all of this, you might be interested in this butch x butch yuri anthology.

Addressing Gaps in Analysis

I’m worried I threw around the term “sapphic subtext” a lot without clarifying what that exactly means.

The intention was to convey a distinction between "yuri" as a literary genre and "implicitly sapphic/lesbian relationships" overall, aka sapphic subtext. GL/yuri often has relationships that are almost entirely built on recognizable subtext because certain tropes get popularized. Often times, when I refer to "sapphic subtext," I am specifically referring to the subtext established by the yuri genre itself. However, because yuri also includes explicitly sapphic romantic/sexual relationships, it felt too confusing to just refer to everything remotely sapphic as "yuri." Hence, for the purposes of this essay, when I meant subtext, I said "subtext," and when I mean something explicitly sapphic, I said "yuri." Please know that these definitions are not concrete.

The full extent of the Takarazuka Revue's influence on how gender roles are represented and/or challenged in Japanese pop culture is complex. I want to clear up potential misunderstandings from my use of gendered terminology that may have come from this:

Do not confuse the Takarazuka-inspired girl-prince/girl-princess sapphic dichotomy described in this essay with a butch/femme dynamic. There is obviously overlap, but they are not synonymous with each other. A butch character is not always a bishonen character and vice versa. A femme character is not always a princess-like character and vice versa. I get these differences might seem miniscule, but when trying to do formal literary analysis, I think people should always be weary of applying Western terms to a culturally non-Western phenomenon, even if it usually communicates the same thing in a colloquial context.

"Are you familiar with the term akogare? So, in my research I did come across akogare (one of those nuanced "no direct english translation" words that seems to describe a deep admiration for someone??) to describe the sapphic subtext of retro shojo. Since I cannot with confidence explain what it means nor how the term is typically used, it wasn't mentioned in the analysis.

"Akane-banashi is a shonen manga and yet you barely acknowledged shonen manga history. What gives?" The answer is quite simple. The focus of this essay is not the shonen manga industry. I'm sure someone else would have a lot of fun analyzing Akahika in context of the history of shonen manga, the gender roles in shonen manga, or the impact of shonen manga on pop culture, but that person is not me.

“Why didn’t you talk more bout Glass Mask?” I never read/watched Glass Mask. While I was willing to read MANY things for this, I was not about to start the juggernaut that is Glass Mask just so I could include it in my analysis. I would love to see someone compare Glass Mask with Akane-banashi, though.

"What about Ruka?" This isn’t about him.

"What about Urara and Mayura?" This isn’t about them.

"I have misgivings about [interpretation of a complex aspect of RGU's narrative]?" Part 2 is catered to an audience who is familiar with Akahika, but not RGU, so some things like the rose bride/prince dynamic were dumbed down a bit. If you have RGU questions feel free to send an ask!!!

"Wait, why don't we talk about Act Age?" Short answer: I never read Act Age. Long answer: Act Age was a popular theatre manga published in Weekly Shonen Jump that was discontinued because the author was arrested for sexual harassment towards minors. Given Akane-banashi released approx 2.5 years later, it is possible that the former success of Act-Age influenced Akane-banashi's inception, but this is purely conjecture. I personally consider Act-Age defunct and irrelevant. I only mentioned it in the part 1 footnote because it used to be published in the same magazine as Akane-banashi.

[gayelderstourney]

OLD WOMAN YURI BRACKET ROUND 1

Propaganda:

Gertrude Robinson/Agnes Montague:

They are canonically soulmates thanks to a ritual Gertrude preformed to stop Agnes from causing the apocalypse. They both love arson (chaos granny’s for the win) . There’s this scene where someone points out Gertrude’s arsonistic tendencies and she unprompted just goes “remind me to tell you about Agnes sometime” in the most fondest tone EVER. And Agnes calls Gertrude her anchor. They’re very important to me

According to canon, they only physically met once. The canon is dumb and wrong They're bound together by a literal string of fate. One that prevents Agnes from fullfilling her destiny as the literal antichrist. She's probably grateful for it, she never asked to be born as the chosen one of the Cult of Lightless Flame. She can never have a normal life or touch another person without hurting her. Gertrude is a mortal human being and stubbornly remains so, even though she's so deeply tangled in the affairs of all the different eldritch fear entities. Yet she was able to save Agnes from her destiny by binding their fates together. I think they're both deeply lonely people, and there's so many narrative parallels between them. They orbit each other like twin stars. You can't tell me there's not something poetically homoerotic about them. This is yuri

Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Ilkay:

They are WIVES! They are part of a criminal family and they mean so much to eachother

They're like the Thelma and Louise of space crime. There's amnesia, there's prison, there's slavery, there's scifi decay of their bodies. But they find each other again. And they love each other.

i support women's right but most importantly i support women's wrongs. they met when they were young and did grand heists together as lovers, as a master thief and a master assassin. then something went wrong during a job and they both thought the other was dead. oops. but during the podcast's storyline they meet again, have a bit of a moment, save each other's lives, fix their relationship and fall in love again <3 no technically canon age but they are presumed to be in their 50s at least. also they're married and retired now

They have the most tragic story.. They’ve been thief partners for five years before a confrontation with the authorities, during which Vespa falls off a skyscraper and is presumed dead (by everyone except Buddy). Buddy was arrested and spent eight years in prison, and after being released she went to their agreed meeting place and waited for Vespa for years, almost dying from radiation poisoning (!). Vespa actually survived and was captured into slavery, during which she also suffered from radiation sickness. Eventually they are reunited, having not seen each other for fifteen years, and renew their relationship. Now they are married and retired together :)