#and don’t get me started on the fake uncle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tender-rosiey · 9 months

Note

hii, hope im not bothering uu!!

my brain is obsessed with ur daddy gojo ficsss!! 🤭🤭 just a thought though. what if gojo brought his kid to work since reader couldnt hire a babysitter and had work to do!! 😱😱 kid can be a baby or like, 7-10?? or something? (idrc i jus need to feed my head with more dad gojo fics 😔😔, kid can be a girl or boy!!) hopee u have a nice dayyy!! ❤❤

missing – gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I wrote the kid being around 5 or 6 max, I think?? hope you like this as well! <3

you are standing at the door, checking over everything with your husband, "satoru, you got the toys?"

like the proud and confident dad he is, he replies with ease, "yep."

"the snacks?"

“of course,” he grins, pulling up the bag of snacks and toys to show you.

but you’re still stressing, "what about—“

"wifey, relax!” he starts rubbing your shoulders soothingly; “I got everything she needs. you have nothing to worry about,” he presses a loud kiss to your cheek.

"last time you said that, you teleported with d/n to the maldives."

he laughs loudly, before pulling you into a big hug, "aww, babe; I said I am sorry,” he is swaying the both of you, “you know I wanted you to be with us."

"that's not the point!"

"oh wowie, look at the time!” he looks at his fake watch and starts gently pushing you towards the car, “you’re gonna be late sweetheart."

"oh god!" you gasp, quickly giving satoru his goodbye kiss, and running to your daughter to give her own goodbye peck on the cheek as well, “I will miss you; take care of dada, okay?”

“aren’t I the one who is supposed to do that taking care part?!”

“bye ‘toru; bye d/n! love you!”

“love you too!” they both reply in unison before looking each other in the eye. satoru grins at her, “do you want to see uncle nanami?”

“nanamin!” she squeals then runs to god knows where.

soon, they finally get to jujutsu tech.

it took longer than usual because the little missy ran off and decided to play hide and seek. in addition to that, since the madlives incident, you banned satoru from teleporting with d/n because it gets her really dizzy and she starts puking.

so like the common people, he takes a car and has to wait till they arrive there. he wants to grumble, but, at least, his princess is there to play with him and make conversations.

they are finally in class when nobara coos, crouching down in front of d/n, “oh, you’re so cute!”

the little girl grins, “thank you!”

“also, I love your dress!”

“oh; thank you!” d/n gasps and starts twirling around, “mommy picked it for me! It’s so pretty, right?” nobara nods eagerly at her and it makes d/n giggle.

d/n pauses for a moment, a pout on her face and eyes get teary, and looks at satoru, “mommy…”

satoru pats her head, “we will see her soon; don’t worry.”

“wow; I am surprised you’re acting like a proper dad,” megumi comments, waving at d/n who grins back at him.

swiftly, yuuji defends his teacher’s pride, “hey! sensei is a great dad!”

d/n starts swinging her arms around and running in place like she is preparing for something. soon. it is revealed what she is waiting for. the door opens and she launches herself at the new guest, “nanamin!”

nanami effortlessly catches her and secures his hold on her, “d/n, that was dangerous; what if you got hurt?”

she looks down with yet another pout, “I know…’am sorry. just missed you.”

nanami sighs before patting her head, “it’s alright,” a tiny smile creeps up, “are you having fun so far?”

she nods happily and starts rambling about how cool nobara is or how much fun yuuji is to be around. meanwhile, satoru is standing in a corner with his arms crossed and grumbling, “that’s my daughter, you know.”

“imagine losing your daughter’s affection to someone else,” megumi pops up from behind satoru.

he retorts with no hesitation, “imagine not having a father.”

satoru looks petrified at megumi who is so very offended. satoru starts mini-panicking, “wait—megumi, I was kidding!”

“divine dogs.”

satoru shrieks and d/n squeals, pointing at him, “minmin, daddy’s playing with ‘gumi’s dogs!”

nanami averts his attention to gojo playing (read: being attacked). he nods slowly at the suffering man, “he is having so much fun; isn’t he?”

“yay!” she throws her arms in the air.

nobara snaps a picture of d/n, “she’s adorable!”

yuuji sobs beside her, “I know right?!”

that was at the beginning of the day, but, right now, satoru has to attend a meeting for some reason with the higher-ups, including yaga. though, it hardly counts as a proper one considering that satoru laid out d/n toys so she can play with him.

“daddy, you’re not supposed to give him the green shirt; he needs the blue one.”

satoru quickly obeys, “yes ma’am,” and he changes the doll into his fabulous blue outfit. d/n giggles and holds his face to kiss his cheek.

one of the higher-ups clears his throat, “refrain from such disrespectful behavior during the meeting, gojo.”

satoru smiles humorlessly at the elder, “last time I checked, my daughter’s happiness is a lot more important than the nonsense you spout every single time.”

d/n carefully makes her way down the table and pulls on satoru’s pants, “daddy, toilet, please.”

“this was a fun meeting!” he beams, collecting d/n’s toys in her bag, “I have more urgent matters to attend to so adieu!” he mock bows, before bending to pick his daughter up, “let’s go princess.”

the door closes after satoru and d/n leave, and everyone looks at yaga. he takes a deep breath, “listen, that's his daughter. asking him not to pamper her is like asking a cat to let go of her kittens. you will get bit.”

time passes and satoru is chilling with d/n in the common room. she is laying on his lap and curled around herself. she groggily looks up to him, “when are we going to see mommy?”

he starts stroking her hair, “soon; I promise,” he takes out a candid picture he took of you and hands it to her, “how about you take this until we go back home and see mommy?”

she nods slowly and hugs the photo close. satoru smiles softly and presses a kiss to her forehead. not much after, d/n falls asleep with your photo secure in her hold.

it makes satoru chuckle. it reminds him of how he can never sleep without you either.

that’s why when he goes on mission, he scrolls endlessly through your photos until sleep takes over him or he listens to any voice message you sent. it helps him with the dilemma of missing you, and he is glad it helps his daughter the same way.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo imagine #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo x you #jjk gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n

3K notes · View notes

theemporium · 7 months

Note

What about 🧸 and Charles Leclerc ? Literally whatever you desire, maybe featuring his family or other drivers?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“I’m going to cry.”

“Charles—”

“Look at him, mon amour! He looks so cute!”

The Monaco Grand Prix was important for every driver due to its history and nostalgia, but it meant so much more to Charles. Ever since he was a child, he dreamed of racing on the streets he grew up on. He dreamed of being in a car, hearing crowds scream his name as he crossed the finish line. He dreamed of standing on the top step of the podium and holding the trophy in the air proudly at his home race.

The Monaco Grand Prix meant everything to him, and it meant everything to him to have the people he cared about most there with him. He wouldn’t dream of racing without having his friends and family and biggest support systems by his side. It was what truly helped him and motivated him through the day.

With you, that circle extended. And now, it extended once more when little Matteo Leclerc was born.

It was Charles' dream to have a family. To meet the love of his life, to grow and live with her, to take that step into creating a lovely family together. And Charles knew you were the woman for him when he first met you. He had blurted as much in your face the first time he spoke to you. And now years later, to have the son you both created in his arms, it felt like a full circle moment.

Yes, the Monaco Grand Prix was always important to Charles but this one was more important than the rest—this was the first time his son was coming to his race, to his own home race.

“I would not have dressed him up like this if I knew you’d get so emotional,” you teased your husband, watching as his eyes welled up as he gently cooed at the giggling boy in his arms. Mattheo was still young, just shy of turning one years old in a few weeks during the summer break.

“Oh hush,” Charles sniffled. “I would have cried anyways, regardless of what he was wearing.”

“So the Red Bull merch would have been too much?” You joked.

Charles narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say bad words around my son,” he said with his chin held high before he turned to Mattheo, his face softening in seconds as the boy garbled and reached for his father’s face. “My son is a Ferrari fan, through and through.”

“Don’t disown him if you find him in the McLaren garage later,” Arthur piped up, walking towards the two of you with a mischievous grin on his face. “I heard Norris has baby merch waiting to change Matteo into.”

Charles’ hold became more protective of his son. “Over my dead body.”

You rolled your eyes, lightly hitting Arthur’s arm. “Stop messing with him.”

“But it’s so fun,” Arthur whined in response.

You snorted. “It is.”

“Ah, ma vie, look at your mama and uncle teaming up on me,” Charles whispered loudly to his son, gently rocking him back and forth as the young boy stared up at his father with eager eyes. “It’s just you and me against the world.”

“Stop turning my son against me or I will let Lando change him into that horrendous orange merch,” you jokingly threatened, trying to bite back your own grin when you saw Charles grinning.

“I’ll make it up to you later, mon amour,” Charles winked.

“Aw, bleh! Not in front of my nephew!” Arthur fake gagged, which only seemed to make little Matteo burst into a fit of giggles. “Go get ready before you miss the start of the race! And give me my nephew before you scar the poor boy for life!”

It took ten minutes to convince Charles to let go of Matteo, his heart shattering a little when the young boy became frustrated and fussy after being parted from his father. But you kissed him on the lips, whispering good luck and telling him to return safely to his family on the other side of this race.

And that was exactly what he did—and more.

It didn’t even hit him until he was standing on the top step, the national anthem blaring through the speakers as his eyes glanced over the crowd below to find you and Matteo at the front of the crowd. He couldn’t really see you but he knew you were crying, he knew he was probably crying too.

And little Matteo looked up at him from the crowd, cheering and clapping his hands once he spotted his father and Charles could’ve sworn his life had peaked. This was what he dreamed of long before he realised. To win his home race, to stand on the top step, to see his family waiting for him as he raised the trophy in the air and drowned in champagne sprays before rushing straight towards them.

“Mes amours,” Charles murmured, tears streaming down his face and a grin so wide that nothing would have wiped it off his face as he reached to hold you both.

“Our winner,” you responded, your free hand cupping his cheek to swipe away a few stray tears with your thumb.

“Dada!” Matteo cheered happily, causing both you and Charles to let out laughs of disbelief as your son uttered his first word.

“Yes,” Charles laughed, nodding his head as he reached for his babbling son. “Me! Dada!”

“Dada!” Matteo repeated, a gummy grin on his face as he squished his father’s cheeks together, and this time neither of you could stop the tears streaming down your face.

This was the day Charles had always dreamed of and he had finally achieved it.

#cece's slumblurb party #charles leclerc #formula one #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

1K notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 3 months

Text

cw: discussion of past parental death due to overdose, mention of drug use

Steve stumbled upon the article when he was helping Robin collect articles for a project for her Industry Studies course.

He didn’t think much of reading about another small time musician getting caught up with the wrong crowd, and overdosing or getting in a drunk driving accident. It seemed like a pretty common theme. It was terrible, sad, horrible, but he’d seen about 30 stories like that in the last two days and he was kind of getting numb to it all.

Until he saw the name Munson.

Until a picture of a woman with long, curly hair and Eddie’s smile stared back at him next to a headline that read: “Kentucky Country Queen Dead at 27.”

He read the article with tears in his eyes.

Elizabeth “El” Munson, a hopeful country singer and guitarist, was found dead in her home by her six year old son, Edward. The boy reportedly tried calling his father at work with no luck before finally calling his uncle, Wayne Munson.

Toxicology reports show that she overdosed on multiple illegal substances. At this time, it is believed to have been accidental and no foul play is suspected.

It has now been made clear that Elizabeth was seeking a divorce from her husband, Al Munson, but had not been successful as lawyers were unable to locate him until her funeral. Their son has been put in the care of Wayne until further notice.

Robin found him 20 minutes later, staring at the page with swollen, red eyes. She took the paper, read the article, and put it back in the files wordlessly.

“I don’t think he wants us to know,” she finally said.

She was probably right.

But Steve had grown pretty close to Eddie over the last six months, had opened up to him about his parents, his fake friends, his concussions and nightmares. Eddie had started opening up to him, too.

He thought he had, anyway.

He told him about how his mom died when he was young and his dad was awful so he moved in with Wayne. He told him about how his dad appeared every couple years looking for money or a place to stay and Wayne always turned him away.

But he never really talked about his mom, always said he barely remembered her.

Did he know what happened?

——

Steve asked Wayne the next morning.

He’d come by to pick Eddie up for a day with the kids, but Eddie hadn’t set his alarm and was still asleep.

Perfect opportunity to find out more.

“So. Eddie’s mom.”

Wayne tensed over his plate of toast and scrambled eggs. He didn’t look up, just took another bite of food.

“Does he know how she died?”

“Do you?”

“Newspaper said overdose,” Steve tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh. “Says Eddie found her.”

“Trauma messes with your memory.”

It was final, a statement that left Steve with more questions, but a certainty that he’d get no answers.

“Yeah.” He gulped. “I’ve heard.”

——

Steve doesn’t bring it up to Eddie for a while.

He figured Wayne’s reaction said a lot about what Eddie knew or would be willing to share.

But they were a little high and alone and Eddie’s hand was warm in his and his filter was broken.

“I’m sorry you had to be the one to find your mom.”

The air around them was thick. The silence was deafening.

“Me too.”

Eddie’s voice was quiet, nothing like his usual playful tone.

Steve immediately wanted to put this conversation in reverse, pretend his curiosity didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie moved closer to Steve, his arm a constant pressure against Steve’s. His head leaned against Steve’s shoulder.

“Wayne doesn’t know I know how she died. He doesn’t know I know my dad gave her bad drugs, convinced her all the up and coming musicians were doing a new strain of heroin. She’d kicked him out of the house,” Eddie’s breath caught. “She shouldn’t have let him come back that day. I heard them arguing before I left for school. She told him she was finding a manager and recording an album and that she was divorcing him. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew it was bad.”

“Eds, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I know, Stevie. But you know everything else.” Eddie’s face turned until his nose and mouth were pressed against Steve’s arm. “I went to school. Didn’t think about it. Figured my dad would be gone when I got home and might come back in a few days once they cooled off. But when I got home, he was gone and my mom’s bedroom door was closed. And I opened it and there she was.”

Steve turned so he was face to face with Eddie, cupping his jaw and rubbing his thumb along his cheek in encouragement.

“I don’t even know why I tried calling the store first. I didn’t even know if he still worked there. But then I called Wayne and it’s like he just knew.” Eddie’s eyes closed for a moment. “Don’t think he’d ever gotten to our house so quick.”

“Did he know all this?”

“He knew enough. I stayed with him and then my dad gave up his rights. Lied to the counselor about what I knew so Wayne wouldn’t freak. Kept it up for a while,” Eddie let out a small exhale that slightly resembled a laugh. “I read the article about eight years ago. A kid in my class made a joke about me being an orphan because of the drug problem in America as if he even knew what that meant and I decided to see what the newspaper reported.”

“Do you play because of her?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked back at him.

“I play for a lot of reasons. But I started because of her, yeah,” he whispers. “You’re the first person to ask me that instead of give me that look of pity.”

“I’m sad about how it happened, but giving you pity doesn’t change it. I’d rather hear how it changed you,” Steve whispered back.

They were close, legs intertwined, hands touching bare skin under shirts and on faces and necks.

“It changed everything for me. Wayne packed us up and moved us here as soon as he legally could. Probably for the best. Well,” Eddie gave a small smile. “Definitely for the best. Wouldn’t be here with you if he hadn’t.”

“Do you ever go back?” Steve did his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

“Her birthday every year. She’s got a nice spot near her mom.” Eddie bit his lip. “It’s actually coming up in a couple weeks. Maybe you could come with me?”

“Me? Are you sure?”

Eddie nodded. “If it doesn’t weird you out that I talk to her. I like to give her updates on my life, Wayne’s life, music. Think she’d find it quite funny that I bring the guy I’ve had a crush on for two years.”

It takes a minute for the words to sink in.

“Two years?” Steve’s lips curled up into a smile. “I hope I live up to expectations.”

“I think she’d like you. She’d definitely make fun of me for having a boyfriend who wears polos though.”

“Is that how you’d introduce me?”

“If you’re okay with it.” Eddie leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “I know we haven’t talked about what we-“

Steve pressed his lips to Eddie’s, nearly knocking their noses together painfully in the process.

After the initial shock, they both relaxed into the kiss.

“I’d love to go. As your boyfriend,” Steve said after pulling away for air. “What was her favorite flower?”

“Gardenias. Always wore perfume that smelled like it. Why?”

“Because I have to impress her, right?”

“You realize she’s not gonna actually see or hear you? She’s definitely dead.”

Steve snorted. “I know. But she can still have nice things. Maybe us bringing her nice things in death is a way to apologize for the not nice things she had in life.”

“You’re a pretty incredible boyfriend, sweetheart.” Eddie kissed the tip of his nose. “And you now know more than Wayne, so it’s time for a pinky promise.”

Steve giggled before holding up his pinky. “I swear I won’t tell Wayne anything.”

“And you’ll kiss me whenever I want…”

“That’s a guarantee.”

“And you’ll let me win at Go Fish…”

“Not a chance, Eds.”

Eddie laughed. “Worth a try.”

Steve curled his pinky against Eddie’s. “So do you think she’d like me?”

“Oh. Oh god. She’d love you. You’re exactly who she’d want for me,” Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve flipped his hair back confidently. “And she’d braid your hair every night while you gossiped and sipped tea.”

“And what would you do?”

“Probably just soak it in. Appreciate having her and you around. You’ll just have to gossip with Wayne.”

“Wayne doesn’t strike me as-“

“Oh, he’s got you fooled! He’s a worse gossip than the ladies at the hair salon. Just ask him about the mailbox at the end of the road sometime. Make sure you’ve got an hour to spare.”

“Really?” Steve’s eyes lit up. “Is he home now?”

Eddie pulled Steve forward until he was flush against his front. “No and I have much better plans than gossiping with my uncle.”

“Oh?” Steve’s brow raised.

“It involves my bed and handcuffs. You in?”

“Hopefully you’re in.”

“God, you’re ridiculous. C’mon, now I’m even harder from your stupid flirting,” Eddie sat up and tugged until Steve followed. “Can’t believe this is how my night’s going.”

“Believe it, baby.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #picturing Eddie’s mom as someone similar musically to Wanda Jackson #she was big in her part of Kentucky #might’ve made it even if not for Eddie’s dad #cw: parent death #cw: mention of overdose #cw: mention of drug use #first kiss #getting together #angst with a happy ending #sorry for the sad part #they kissed about it at the end tho

638 notes · View notes

saigethearies · 9 months

Text

osamu and you leave your daughter with her uncle atsumu for the weekend. chaos ensues.

___

“i woulda felt better leavin’ her with kita or aran.”

you let out a snort at your husband’s statement. “over your own brother? her blood relative?”

you and osamu were driving to a weekend getaway in the mountains. while the two of you were excited for a break and some quality time, there was no denying that there was some apprehension in the car.

it was the first time you’d be away from your baby daughter. as great as a vacation sounded, it would be a lie to say the two of you weren’t reluctant to go.

in order to ease your nerves, a suitable babysitter was chosen.

only osamu didn’t have a lot of faith in your choice.

“exactly, he’s ma brother, so ‘m the only one who understands just how much of ‘n idiot he truly is.”

“but you saw how happy he was to offer to watch her! atsumu loves being a uncle, he won’t half-ass taking care of her. besides, if he ends up needing help your mom is just a call away.”

“ma’s hostin’ her book club this saturday, she can’t just drop everythin’ if tsumu’s dumbass ends up needin’ help.”

you let out a sigh. “samu, just try and relax. i’m sure everything over on his end is fine.”

____

“COURT BABY! COURT BABY! COURT BABY!”

hinata and bokuto chanted as they watched your daughter crawl across the shiny floor of the msby practice gym.

having grown tired of the play mat and toys her uncle atsumu had laid out for her, the little one decided exploring her surroundings would be far more exciting.

“she’s crawlin’ earlier than most babies would,” atsumu chimed proudly. “must’ve got ma athlete genes.”

sakusa rolled his eyes from behind the fake blonde.

“she’s really going fast! let’s time her to see how quick she can move!” hinata suggested, fascinated by the little human on the ground.

“we’re supposed to be doing passing drills-“

“GREAT IDEA HINATA!” bokuto shouted.

“i give up,” the masked brunette said, moving to sit down on the bleachers since apparently no one was going to actually bother to follow instructions.

atsumu smirked while watching his teammates fawn over his niece. he knew it would be a good idea to just bring her to friday practice. the vibe for fridays was always a little more laid-back, and he knew having a cute little baby around would earn him brownie points with his excitable teammates. who didn’t love babies?

his brown eyes shifted over to sakusa momentarily, who was gazing at his niece with a look of disdain on his face.

okay, maybe he didn’t enjoy kids, but the rest of the team sure did!

“hey hey hey, baby miya! let’s see how quick you can crawl to your uncle tsum-tsum!”

atsumu grinned, moving to kneel on the ground so he can encourage his niece to move towards him. seeing the familiar face of her uncle- who shared a face with her father- had her happily babbling away as she pushed towards him.

“awe, she’s trying to talk!” hinata cooed, lip wobbling as he watched the precious exchange.

“alright, everyone,” a voice boomed. everyone turned to see a muscular figure with a head of spiky black hair enter the gymnasium.

“your coach asked me to come over to ensure you boys were actually practicing,” iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer stated. “i have some specific stamina exercises i want everyone to participate in. we’re gonna start by-“

movement in the lower peripheral of iwa’s vision caught his attention and the former ace found his gaze turning toward the floor.

“…why the hell is there a baby here?”

“don’t fuckin’ curse in front’a ma niece!”

“you just- nevermind,” iwa grunted, trying to be as patient as possible considering there was a literal infant present.

slotting his clipboard into the junction of his shoulder, the athletic trainer bent down to gently pick up your daughter. balancing her on his hip as if he’d done it a million times before, he turned back to the team.

“alright, jumping jacks and high knees, i want those heart rates getting up!”

before atsumu could open his mouth, iwa shot him a pointed look.

“i’ll hold your niece, miya, now get moving.”

the squeaking of shoes against the linoleum floor began to sound off. after ensuring everyone was properly following his instructions, he turned to the baby in his hold.

everyone knew iwaizumi was tough, but few knew how much of a complete softie he could be at times. giving your daughter a small smile, he lifted his hands to wave his fingers at her, to which she smiled back and tried to mimic his movements.

he let out a light laugh. “motor skills coming along there, i see-“

“iwaaaaa-chaaannnnn,” a voice sounded off from behind him.

iwaizumi froze. that voice, that stupid nickname, he knew it from anywhere. he began to turn his head to look behind him, gradually as if he was moving in slow-motion.

there was no way…

“guess who flew all the way from argentina to surprise you with his presence,” oikawa boasted as he stepped into the room. “that’s right, me-“

the seijoh grad fell silent as his chocolate colored eyes fell on the small human in his best friend’s hold.

oikawa blinked once. twice. three times. then-

“since when did you have a kid?”

“tooru, this isn’t-“

“how could you keep this from me?”

“will you please just-“

“a whole child? when?”

“shittykawa just shut up-“

“STOP CURSIN’ IN FRONT’A HER!”

“-and listen to me for a second!”

oikawa finally stopped his tirade, moving towards iwaizumi to study the baby in his arms. he bent down to be eye level with her, the both of them staring at each other curiously.

the brunette hummed to himself, reaching a finger out to poke your daughter’s cheek. “she doesn’t look like you.”

“wow, what an observation, it’s almost like she’s not my kid.”

“then who’s is she-“

“she’s my niece,” atsumu growled out, pushing oikawa away from the baby he was prodding at. he fixed the other man with a glare, well aware of who he was and what position he also played. the fact that this potential rival thought he could casually touch his flesh and blood had the fake blonde heated. “i’m takin’ care’a her for the weekend, which means i ain’t letting no lesser setter lay’a hand on her.”

“lesser setter?”

“oh boy,” iwa said, moving away from the two ego-fueled players. he could tell they were about to scuffle and he couldn’t let a baby be anywhere near that.

placing your little girl safely to the side, iwa crouched in front of her, sounds of “never saw ya at spring nationals” and “let’s see what your stats are, huh?” airing in the background.

“you stay right here, i’m gonna go get them to knock it off.”

standing a few meters away from all the chaos, sakusa watched as iwaizumi tried to wrench the two setters apart. sighing, he shifted his gaze to your daughter sitting unattended on the ground, babbling at nothing in particular.

sakusa grimaced. he really didn’t like babies. they were so…germy. and gross. but, he supposed the babies themselves couldn’t really help that fact. it wasn’t their fault they were so little and had such new immune systems.

a shadow then loomed over your daughter, bokuto and hinata standing over her. now that iwaizumi was too distracted to lead them in workouts, the two’s attention was back on the infant.

“i know!” bokuto exclaimed. “let’s do passing drills with baby miya! we can pass her back and forth to each other!”

“she’ll feel like she’s flying! like she’s a little crow!”

“or an owl!”

“you two will be doing absolutely no such thing with this child,” sakusa interjected, scooping your daughter up and going to sit down on the bench with her.

“but ki-“

“no.”

he wasn’t a fan of babies, but considering your daughter’s uncle was currently holding oikawa in a headlock, sakusa figured he could keep an eye on her for just a few minutes. it wouldn’t be too much longer before iwa finally decided he’d had enough and smacked the shit out of both of them.

hearing a little gurgle from below him, the brunette cast his eyes downwards. your daughter’s sight was transfixed on him, a smile coming onto her face when she saw she had the spiker’s attention.

from behind his mask, sakusa felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

okay, maybe babies were a little cute.

#osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #osamu miya #atsumu miya #atsumu miya fluff #hinata shoyuo #bokuto koutarou #sakusa kiyoomi #msby #msby fluff #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa torū #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff

2K notes · View notes

desperate-gay · 4 months

Note

mearps, "i can't believe after 3 years together this is the first time i'm ever learning this", kitchen at home

Family Recipe

Mary Earps x fem!reader

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’” Mary’s booming voice startles you, making you jump and almost drop the sharp knife you’re using to slice the food. “I scared ya didn’t I?” The taller girl chuckles, placing her hands on your hips and a kiss on your cheek.

“Yes, yes you did.” You huff in fake annoyance while playfully giving her a scolding look.

“Awe you’re so adorable all pouty.” Mary moves in a baby voice as one of her big hands reaches up and squeezes your cheeks. You quickly smack her hand away and mumble something under your breath as you turn your body back to the food.

“How was training?” The goalkeeper sighs, leaning against the counter while watching you do your thing.

“Exhausting, annoying, smelly, and any other adjectives I have missed. Besides that what are you stirring up over there, love?” Your girlfriend quirks an eyebrow and attempts to look over your shoulder only for her sight to still be blocked.

“I am starting to make my uncle’s signature pasta sauce so we can have some tonight.” You say, smiling at her giddy state when she starts clapping her hands in excitement.

At every family function your uncle brings his homemade pasta along with his sauce. Mary is always the first to get a plate and the first to get seconds. Nobody in the family knows the recipe besides your uncle, you, and your mom which makes Mary very jealous when you won’t share it with her.

The taller girl reappears behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and hugging you along with placing random kisses either on your shoulders, head, or cheek. You smile at her clingy behavior, enjoying being close to her after not seeing each other for most of the week.

“Y’know what?” You ask, turning around to face her.

“What?”

“Do you want to help me cook?” Mary looks even more confused considering she doesn’t know anything about how the dish is made.

“I can’t help because I don’t know how.” Your girlfriend huffs while crossing her arms, annoyed that you’re basically rubbing it in her face.

“I think it’s time I can teach you.” You let out a big squeal when the goalkeeper’s arms lift you up into the air and spin you around in glee. “Okay okay, calm down there, cowboy. I gotta be conscious to do so.” You tease which the other girl doesn’t notice from being too caught up putting on an apron she jokingly got for you one day.

“Chef Mary reporting for duty.” She stands tall while fake saluting, making you giggle at her determination and silly nature.

“Alright you goof, you can start by cutting those tomatoes over there.” You point over to the free area with the knife.

“I can’t believe after 3 years together, this is the first time I’m ever learning this.” The taller girl speaks with a certain eagerness and reaches for the veggie and fruit bowl.

“Mary, those are apples.”

A little while later all the ingredients are already in the pot and formed into the signature sauce. You scoop up a little with the wooden spoon and hold her hand under it in case anything spills while blowing to cool it off.

“Time for the final test. Try and see if it’s good.” You hold up the spoon, gesturing for her to open her mouth. Once she does, you angle it up into her mouth in an attempt to make it all in but some drips down the corner of your lips.

“God, that’s so delicious I’ll never get over it.” She groans at the taste immediately wanting more.

“You got a little something right there.” You smile while wiping the remains of the dressing off her chin. While trying to gather it off her face, you don’t notice the loving expression she has while staring down at you. “There you go, my love.” You say, sucking it off your thumb before you swiftly get pulled in for a time-stopping kiss.

The kiss is so unbelievably tender and sweet that you almost faint. You can tell how much love is being poured into it just by the feeling of her lips and her hand cradling your face. Once air becomes a problem, you pull away reluctantly while staring at each other in awe.

“Wow.” You whisper, placing your hands over hers that still rest on your face.

“I love ya. I love ya so so so much.” She finalizes her statement with another big kiss on your lips. In your head, you know that this is forever. No one besides family can know the secret recipes and now she’s your family.

#mary earps x reader #mary earps #woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #woso

464 notes · View notes

mawofthemagnetar · 5 months

Text

Father's Day

“So, hold on a minute,” Iskall held his hands up, “back up, because I must have missed that. You’re a FATHER?”

“Well, yeah?” Jevin shrugged, scrolling through his comm, “What’s so hard about that to believe?”

Iskall, by way of a reply, simply gestured at Jevin’s person from his head to his slimy feet.

“So? Okay, yeah, I guess it- is a little hard to fathom. I do, uh, have a certain- aura of coolness around me. But yeah, no, I’m a dad. And a damn good one, too. I mean, a slime-dad, which is a little different than a regular dad. But for a slime-dad, I’m top-shelf. Of course.”

“Uh-huh. And how does a slime-dad differ from a regular dad?” Iskall folded his arms.

“I don’t gotta, uh, chase after my kids as much as you guys do. They’re pretty much ready to go once they hit full-size. I do my bit by checking up on them periodically. Anyway, point is, I gotta go. My kids are throwing a father’s day bash, and I can’t be late.”

Iskall rubbed his temples.

“Okay, couple questions. One, father’s day was three months ago. Two, is there a Missus Jevin you’ve got stashed away somewhere? Or a Mister Jevin? Or-“

“…Why would another person be involved?” Jevin asked, tilting his head with a squish of slime, “Like, literally, why? Who needs help to become a parent?”

“…Uh…you know what? No. You want to learn about the parrots and the bats, go talk to Keralis.”

“Sure, whatever. Anyway, to answer your second question, it’s ‘cause if you try to do father’s day on the actual, like, day, renting a big enough hall is stupid expensive and it’s all just kind of dumb. And a hassle. So we host it whenever.”

Jevin glanced up from his comm.

“Wanna come? Meet my kids, I mean.”

Iskall rubbed his forehead.

“Sure, why not. Hit me with it.”

They tapped their comms together, and Jevin clacked his jaw together- the slime equivalent of a smile.

“Okay, so uh…All my kids know you guys as their aunts and uncles. So if they start calling you “auntie Iskall-“

“-Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m used to it.” Iskall nodded, “Should I wear something special?”

Jevin waved a hand.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You’re fine as you are. Anyway, let’s go. Not good to keep my kids waiting!”

And Jevin tapped a few options on his comm and vanished.

Iskall shrugged, tapped over to his server list, and selected the option for the Hub, with the teleport coordinates visible in the centre.

He tapped it, and vanished.

When Iskall opened his eyes again, he was standing outside a colossal building, looking like some kind of conference centre. It was made of smooth quartz, with a fake parking lot full of fake vehicles that had clearly taken some builder a long time to put together.

Jevin was standing there, tapping his sneaker impatiently, the blue slime slosh-slosh-sloshing against the ground.

“Alright, c’mon, let’s get moving.” Jevin huffed, “We’re already a couple minutes late, and my kids worked really hard to put this on.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Iskall muttered, brushing off his pants and following Jevin towards the doors.

Iskall was assuming that Jevin’s family would have set up a few tables in a corner. He was a slime; and the way Jevin was talking, Iskall had assumed a big family. Maybe ten kids? That would be a pretty big family.

Then Jevin and Iskall stepped into the conference hall.

“HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, DAD!”

Several thousand slimes bellowed all at once, a wall of sound so deafening that Iskall could feel his bionic eye nearly shake out of its housing.

He blinked his one eye, darting it around the room in shock. There were hundreds of small tables around which sat an unfathomable number of slimes in all colours of the rainbow. The room was a riot of wild fashion choices, and a deafening rumble of clattering bones and squelching bodies.

“I- I-” Iskall stammered, as he reached up and tightened the nut holding his robotic eye onto his skull’s mounting post.

“HEY EVERYONE!” Jevin shouted back, “THANK YOU!”

“Is that Uncle Iskall?” a deep voice said eagerly, “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“You have…THOUSANDS…of children. Not ten. Not twenty. Not even a hundred. THOUSANDS.” Iskall stammered.

“Yeah. I’m, uh, the father of all slime hybrids. It’s not a big deal, to be honest. Some other slime would’ve absorbed a skeleton and decided to think about itself if I hadn’t.” Jevin shrugged.

“All. Of them. ALL OF THEM.” Iskall clutched his head in his hands.

“Yeah? It’s not that difficult. You just, like, shed some slime on a large enough pile of biomass, it’ll grow into a kid. How is this so confusing for you? That’s probably where humans come from.” Jevin shrugged.

He rubbed his slimy hands together with a hideous squelch, and started traveling through the room, eagerly greeting each and every one of his kids.

Iskall staggered over to the snack table, piled high with compost, cinderblocks, and beer. He popped a bottle, and started chugging it.

#magnetar writes #Jevin Fic #Iskall fic #I've had this thing in my documents for about half a year and I finally polished it up #I hope you enjoy

510 notes · View notes

madelynraemunson · 2 months

Text

CASUAL part 2

see part one here.

modern!incel!asshole! eddie x fem!reader

It’s 7 in the morning. Eddie is seen doom-pacing in the halls of Hawkins High.

a/n: i promised y’all part 2 so here ya go. let’s make him pay. 💋 also shout out to @love-anonymous-writer for bringing this universe to life. a little angst here and there is good for the soul <3

who got the last laugh?

[WC: 1.1k words]

“Please respond…please respond…please respond…”

The soles of Eddie’s shoes slam against the tiles of Hawkins High as he rushes to your locker. Meanwhile his entire soul has left his body.

You didn’t answer any of his phone calls. All the texts he sent you were left on read. Having been so accustomed to your instant replies, Eddie essentially catapulted himself into a full-blown panic last night when he saw the ominous text you sent him...and the nothingness from you that followed soon after.

The crickets of Forrest Hills that taunted his eardrums later that night served as a vengeful metaphor of the brick wall you built between you and him. The girl who once gave him everything has now started giving him nothing. You’re nowhere, but everywhere. It’s like you’ve become a ghost.

When he sees you, color drains from Eddie’s guilty face. You look so beautiful today, hair curled down to the small of your back, a nice simple dress and some slippers, with makeup ever so gracefully applied. A class act, even when plagued with the utmost disrespect.

“Hi," he says to you as he approaches.

“Hi.”

As far as Munson knows, he no longer exists to you. He's a shadow now, a carapace of a boy you used to love 'cuz now — after hearing what you heard in his trailer — you know he's not the same boy that made you feel all the butterflies. That boy is long gone. You even start to wonder if that version of Eddie even existed.

“C-can we talk, please?” he requests.

“What’s to talk about?” you challenge him, stoically. “Don’t wanna annoy you with my rambling.”

“You never annoy me…” he attempts as you mindlessly comb through your locker for your homeroom notebook.

“Mm.”

You were casual about it. Too casual about it.

“You… uh…” he clears his throat. “You made me cookies yesterday?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I was at your door for quite a while so you must’ve been busy. Cookies were taken care of though.”

“I see…” Eddie mutters as the pieces all start coming together.

He thinks about how he always leaves his windows cracked open. His uncle would whoop his ass if he hot-boxed the trailer again, so it became a habit. But the trailer park is small, and on certain afternoon, if someone from a nearby unit had dropped a pin, Eddie would hear it. Suddenly, fear arises in him.

Surely, you didn't hear everything he and The Boys™️ said. He had his headphones on and he couldn't have possibly been that loud, could he? Unless technology failed him again.

The warning bell sounds throughout the halls and you excuse yourself from the narrative. Eddie tags after you like a lost puppy, nearly tripping on his shoelaces along the way.

"W-wait!"

The first class of the morning is homeroom. A class you unfortunately shared with Eddie, Grant, and Harmony.

You didn't want to see any of their faces. Eddie's face would serve as a reminder of how fake and construed the fucker is. Grant's would remind you of how insignificant you were to the guys (despite how welcomed they made you feel at the start). And Harmony. Harmony's beautiful face — with a body far too developed for a girl in her grade to match — would only remind you of the fact that the girl didn't inherently do anything to you... other than be beautiful and get caught in the crossfire of horny, greasy teenage boys.

It’s a fucking mess.

You swallow hard and keep your chin up regardless. Because what other choice do you have? You either feign your confidence or let irrelevant boys crush it.

You continue strutting over to your seat as Eddie trails behind at a measurable distance. Along the way, you inevitably run into the Junior Queen of Hawkins High herself, Harmony Heathers.

Harmony issues you a sweet smile. You smile back at her in return. And you didn't even need to turn your back to know that Eddie most likely did a double-take when sliding past her.

The late bell rings, indicating the start of class.

“Okay,” your homeroom teacher Mrs. Helleck exhales as she clasps her hands together. “Good morning everybody. For Red Ribbon Week this week, we’re gonna be doing a group project. Worth 20-percent of your grade.”

The class erupts in agonistic groans while Mrs. Helleck attempts to calm them down. You feel Eddie’s gaze burn into you, indicative to the fact that he was looking forward to using you again like he always seems to do. This time around it would be for a grade instead of a two-pump fuck. But you had something else in mind.

“You will be doing a presentation,” Helleck continues. “With a partner of your choice. Your job is to create a slogan along with a list of reasons why you should stay away from drugs.”

“Drugs Instead of Hugs,” Grant mutters to Eddie.

The general vicinity collectively praises his lukewarm wannabe 4-Chan edged joke.

You roll your eyes while your poor homeroom teacher tries to proceed with her instructions, despite the immature snickers.

“You will be presenting with your partner on Friday. Do not wait until last minute to do this assignment please. Deadlines catch up to you fast.”

Mrs. Helleck makes her way over to you.

Like Dungeons and Dragons, everyone in the class is assigned a “classroom role”. You’re the leader of the pack, the ‘foreman’, to which you never understood because up until today you never had the confidence to call the shots. The alphabet has never been on your side anyways.

“Now dear,” your teacher smiles down at you. “Since your last name starts with an A, you get first choice. Who would you like to work with?”

Eddie’s gaze is extra fixated on you now. It gives you a greater deal of satisfaction than tossing those cookies ever did. It was you who had the reigns now, instead of those woman-patronizing incels.

You start to smile connivingly, to which the guys start to gulp over. You can tell they’re putting two and two together, their two brain cells collectively working over time to discover that you had a delicious upper-cut up your sleeve.

It’s the very least they can do. If they wanted to taint your name to smithereens in your absence, you’re sure as hell going to give them something else to lose their minds about in Math 3.

And when all eyes are fixated on you, you tilt your chin up to project your voice. You want to make sure everyone, especially Grant and Eddie, hear you loud and clear when you sinisterly announce,

“I pick Harmony.”

tag list: @damp4eddie @eddiesguitarskills @babygirl229 @love-anonymous-writer @ziggeddie @socially-awkward-eliza @shesahellfirebabe @ali-r3n @yourdailymemedelivery @mincloud @jupitersnights @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @whisperingtales @fearlessreid @emma-munson

divider by: @benkeibear

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson mini series #requests #maddy’s requests 🍸#part 2 #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you

225 notes · View notes

harmonictechnicality · 1 year

Text

Eddie’s Memory Log Day 1:

part 2 here | part 3 here | part 4 here | part 5 here | part 6 here

(ao3 link here)

The only reason Steve volunteers to keep a journal to track Eddie Munson’s skim-milk memories, is because of the twerps.

They have school, they can’t commute to the government-protected hospital that’s all the way in the city. That, and they gave Steve this well-rehearsed, tearjerker performance about how grateful they would be.

About how grateful Eddie would be.

Pfft like shit on a stick, he’ll be grateful. The dude doesn’t even remember how old he is, how the hell is supposed to be grateful for Steve Harrington jotting down notes in binder?

But those kids have been through Spielberg-level disaster shit. Steve has too, but they’re just kids.

So he’ll do it. He’ll do it for them and only them.

Eddie knows his name today.

He’s pissy - he’s always pissy cause Eddie is battered up beyond belief. But still, he’s extra pissy today because Dustin is his favorite visitor and he hasn’t stopped by in almost a week.

Eddie knows Dustin’s name today too.

And guess who’s his least favorite visitor?

“Harrington.” Eddie grumbles, mouth full of lime jello. “Who paid you to be here today?”

Remembers Steve’s name… last name.

“No one.” Steve makes himself comfy in the vinyl armchair. “Call me crazy, but I’m not too big on taking lunch money from sophomores.”

Speaking of which…

“Do you know you know how old you are?”

Eddie crumples the plastic jello container. “You’re a patronizing sack of shit.”

Steve rolls his eyes, starts to write down:

Eddie doesn’t know his age.

“Twenty.”

Eddie does know his age (20).

“Swell.” Steve fakes his amusement. The kids are much better at cheerleading Eddie along in this process. But Steve’s poker face is nonexistent. Sarcasm and assholery occupy every seat in his brain these days.

They go through a few more questions before Eddie begins to get tired. He’s tired a lot, even though the coma knocked him out for almost four months.

Guess holding hands with Death really takes it out of a person.

Eddie doesn’t know his birthday.

But Eddie does remember it’s in the winter (has a memory of seeing leafless trees from an early childhood birthday party).

Eddie remembers his uncle’s name.

Eddie doesn’t remember which street he lives on.

Eddie has a headache (that’s not a memory thing - he’s just told Steve a thousand times now).

“I’ll let you rest.” Steve folds the binder shut, sort of desperate to do anything to get Eddie to stop whining. Seriously, he thought this guy was funnier pre-bat attack.

Eddie doesn’t remember he has a sense of humor.

“You don’t have to stay, you know.” Eddie settles into his pillows.

Steve shrugs, puts his hands behind his head. “I took the bus from Hawkins today. The next one doesn’t leave for another few hours.”

“Still… it’s a city, right? You can go explore or whatever. Be a tourist.”

Yeah Eddie’s persuasive skills aren’t completely back either, it’s all very half-assed.

“Been here before.” Steve lounges deeper into the squeaky chair material. “I’m good.”

“Probably haven’t seen everything is all I’m saying -”

“Do you want me to leave that bad?”

Steve doesn’t shout, but his tone takes up space. Makes the room feel crowded with accusations and cutthroat honesty.

Eddie stares back hard. Sometimes, he doesn’t look like Eddie Munson - he looks like this war victim with knotted-up hair and sulky brown eyes.

Like a John Doe cadaver - tagging his foot with the possibility of Eddie Munson.

Anyways, that’s how he looks right now as he stares at Steve. Barely Eddie.

“Just. I don’t know you.” That’s a shitty ass comeback for someone with a memory-tank that’s perpetually blinking with the low-engine light on.

Eddie continues with his weak argument. “Were we close enough back home that you’d stay here while I sleep?”

Eddie doesn’t remember Steve ignoring him in high school for four years.

Steve finds no reason to lie. “No. We weren’t close at all.”

“Right.” Eddie nods once. “So why do this? What are you getting out of this?”

This is a complicated situation to explain to anyone, let alone to someone with fuzzy comprehension abilities. But Steve gives it a whirl:

“Look, we have mutual friends that are… younger. Dustin’s age. And whether I like it or not, they’re like siblings to me now - I’d do anything for them. But they’re in school, they can’t be here every day like I can.”

“Why can you be here?” Eddie asks.

“I lost my job.”

Eddie attempts sympathy. “Sorry.”

Eh, Steve gives him a B-minus.

“Didn’t like it anyways.” Steve reassure him plainly. “The point, I’m doing this for them. For you too, but they’re the anchors in this.”

Eddie thinks for a moment - readjusts to laying on his side, facing Steve. “Won’t you need a new job eventually?”

“Nah. Trust Fund Baby.” Steve points both thumbs at his chest.

“Yeesh.” Eddie rolls to the other side, away from Steve. Disgusted by his comment, yet still chuckling very quietly.

Okay… Eddie does remember he has a sense of humor (just a teensy bit).

His breathing becomes long and hard - sleep heavy breathing. It doesn’t take long, sleep seems more natural to Eddie right now than being awake.

Steve watches him for a moment. There’s always the ghostly-distant fear that Eddie might stop breathing. He’s done it before - four months ago and once more while he was still at the hospital in Hawkins.

Max is still asleep. Steve hates thinking about that detail because it’s cruel. This twisted game that the universe is playing is truly unjust.

Like an Almighty Asshole rolled Eddie’s stupid dice and decided, ‘I’ll let one of your friends wake up, but he won’t remember that he battled along side you in the trenches of darkness. Take it or leave it, douchebag.’

Steve will take it.

Eddie is still sleeping when Steve decides to head out - the bus will be arriving soon and he’s gotta get a window seat. Needs control over the window cause he gets carsick way too fucking easily these days.

“Heading out?” Eddie mumbles, eyes not even open.

“Yeah - sorry.” Steve doesn’t know why he whispered that. “Didn’t think I should wake you.”

“I gotcha. I’m assuming you’ll be back tomorrow?”

Huh… Steve thinks there might be a hint of implication that Eddie wants him to come back tomorrow. Interesting.

“Your memory isn’t as shitty as you think it is.” He’s overly smug when he says it.

Eddie gives him a closed-lip smile. Only Dustin and Wayne receive those.

“Want me to pick up some food on my way in?” Steve decides to give generosity a try, since Eddie is tolerable enough to give him a smile. “Get you off of this lousy hospital meal-plan temporarily?”

The smile is gone. “Nah, you don’t have to do that.”

Right.

Eddie definitely remembers how to be Stubborn with a capital ‘S’

But Steve is a Trust Fund Baby, so he’s unfazed with difficult behaviors. He can match difficulties all damn day if he wanted to.

Which he does.

“Suit yourself, Munson.” Steve acts so uncaring. Very uppity and douchey. “I’m thinking Chinese takeout for me personally.”

“Cool.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow then.”

There’s a pause, so Steve takes that as his sign to turn the handle, get the hell out of here.

“Steve?” Eddie calls weakly just before he shuts the door behind him.

He cracks it open, peeks his face back in. “Yeah?”

Eddie sighs. “Kung Pao Chicken.”

“Excellent choice.”

Eddie gives him another closed-lip smile.

Steve grins wildly, with all of his teeth. “In fact, I think I’ll do the same.”

And as Steve claims his middle seat on the bus, he pulls the binder back out of his backpack to add one more note for the day:

Eddie remembers that he likes Kung Pao Chicken.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #post s4 au #trying to decide if I should make this a thing or not #I’m not even sure if this is any good so please ignore if it is incoherent #my mind is being cruel today so if it’s bad pretend it never happened 🙂

2K notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 1 month

Text

WIP excerpt for Cheshire behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! ( + non-chrono link for app users )

“Um, yeah,” Billy says, still internally cringing at himself. “Just–not just the bare minimum, I mean? Like–other things too. Books and games and snacks and . . . whatever you think’s fun, or whatever you want to learn about, or whatever.”

He’s definitely been in “homes” that didn’t give him things like that. He doesn’t want Lynn to feel like . . . a burden, or a problem, or just unimportant and unwanted like that, so . . . yeah, he’s definitely gonna get him things that aren’t just the bare minimum. As many of those things as he can, he thinks.

Batman gave them so much money, and that’s not even counting the stipend. Billy can definitely afford to give Lynn the kind of stuff none of his foster families wanted to give him. So, like–he’s gonna, obviously.

Of course he’s gonna.

Lynn ducks his head a little, then swallows uncomfortably. Billy resists the urge to nudge Tawky towards him again. He wonders if he could just, like . . . offer Lynn a hug, maybe? Maybe that’d be okay?

Or maybe it’d be weird and pushy, or maybe stupid, or maybe just make Lynn feel uncomfortable. They’ve never met before today and they’ve barely spent any time together at all, and Billy doesn’t want to be the type of foster parent who demands a relationship that just isn’t there, even if he’s . . . well, not really just a foster parent, he hopes. But those fosters just always made him feel like they were more interested in getting attention and looking good to strangers than anything about him.

He wants Lynn to feel like he’s interested in him–wants Lynn to know he’s interested in him, and cares about him, and isn’t gonna ignore him or hate him if he doesn’t follow some stupid script he’s got in his head of how he “should” be.

He definitely wants that.

“It’s okay if you don’t know what you think’s fun yet,” he tries, hoping he’s not assuming too much. “It’s probably kinda overwhelming, with, um . . . literally everything happening all at once and your whole life getting turned on its head, um . . . basically five minutes after it really started, so . . .”

“I was alive before I woke up,” Lynn says, a little stilted. “I–saw things. Learned things.”

“Things about yourself, or about how Cadmus wanted you to be?” Billy asks.

Lynn–pauses. Frowns.

“. . . um,” he says. “I . . . don’t know.”

Billy is pretty sure Cadmus just sucks, actually. Like. A lot.

“Okay,” he says. “Well, that’s okay too. You can take your time figuring it out. There’s no rush or anything.”

“Superman won’t like me if I don’t figure it out,” Lynn says, his frown deepening. “If I’m not–useful.”

. . . okay, Billy thinks. Cadmus really sucks, actually.

“Superman doesn’t care about people being useful,” he says firmly. “That’s like, the last thing Superman cares about. He just likes people for who they are.”

“. . . who I am is . . . fake, though,” Lynn says, his eyes slanting away. “It’s–programmed.”

“So?” Billy asks, reminding himself superheroes don’t burn down weird basement labs outside of extenuating circumstances. And anyway, the sidekicks already messed Cadmus up pretty bad as it was. “Lots of people get programmed. Red Tornado’s programmed, and he’s really nice. And Wonder Woman got made out of clay as a little kid, so she got, like, magic programming. Like, to be her ‘age’, you know?”

Lynn . . . blinks, slowly, and then glances back at him.

“You really think that?” he asks. Billy’s a little confused by the question. He doesn’t think it; he knows it.

“I mean, yeah?” he says. “I just mean–it doesn’t make you fake. That’s all. Especially ‘cuz you can, you know . . . learn stuff yourself, if you wanna. You don’t have to just stay the way you got taught to be.”

Lynn stares at him for a long, silent moment, then looks down at the table again.

“How long have you had–uh, Uncle Tawky?” he asks, abrupt and obviously trying to change the subject. That’s fine, Billy thinks; he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. And Lynn’s gotta learn how to do that kind of thing anyway, so it’s good practice for more complicated conversations, he figures.

“Since I was ten,” he says. “He came from India! I met him in Fawcett, though, and he’s been my best friend ever since! He’s really great. And a respectable gentleman, so you don’t need to be scared of him or anything. I mean, I don’t know if you’re scared of tigers or not? Because probably you’re tiger-proof? Like–normally, I mean. But yeah.”

“. . . I’m not scared of tigers,” Lynn says, looking a little bewildered, for some reason. Billy beams at him.

“Great!” he says happily. Tawky could probably hurt Lynn, since he’s magic too, but he obviously wouldn’t, so he’s just . . . not gonna draw attention to that right now, obviously. That wouldn’t make Lynn feel very safe, he’s pretty sure.

But Tawky could also probably stop Lynn if he got mind-controlled, so . . . maybe it would make him feel safer? Billy’s not sure, actually.

. . . hm. Yeah, he needs to figure that out.

“. . . you’ve really had him since you were ten?” Lynn asks, looking–hesitant, now. Billy doesn’t know why, but nods.

“Yup!” he says. “He’s the best.”

“. . . are you sure you want me to have him?” Lynn asks, still looking hesitant.

“Yeah!” Billy confirms cheerfully. “Tawky’s the best! He’ll protect you. And keep you from having bad dreams, too.” Tawky’s really good at eating nightmares, so yeah, Lynn won’t have to worry about bad dreams at all.

“Uh,” Lynn says, then very gingerly reaches over and picks up Tawky, and then sets him in his lap with a weird look on his face. He looks a little–emotional, maybe? At least for him, anyway. He’s not very expressive, so far. “Um. Okay.”

Billy just beams at him again. He’s really glad they like each other.

“. . . thanks,” Lynn says as he looks down at Tawky, voice a little abrupt again. “Um–Dad."

#cheshire #wip: billy adopts conner and it actually goes pretty good!

205 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 9 months

Text

Fake Boyfriend Part 1

This was going to be an AO3 exclusive until I found out I couldn't do the strikethrough coding for the titles over there and until I think of one that works as well as this one does, it goes here first. There is a second part that will be posted on Tuesday as it got a tad too long for Tumblr (clocking out at over 3k).

Summary: After most of the older teens have gone off to college, Eddie goes over to Steve's to hang out. When he finds Steve on the phone with one of his co-workers, he tells Steve to pretend Eddie is his boyfriend to get the guy to back off via notes on his notebook. It works better than he could possibly dream as the more Steve describes his "boyfriend" the more it sounds real.

***

Eddie let himself into the Harrington mansion like he always did, backpack slung over his shoulder. Steve and he was long since past caring about knocking on each others’ houses’ doors. Bedrooms on the other hand were sacrosanct and closed doors were to be respected at all times, but their houses? Open invitation. Always.

He went straight to the kitchen because if Steve was going to be anywhere in that labyrinthine house of his, it was going to be the kitchen. He entered through the open doorway just as Steve snapped.

“Fuck you!” he growled.

Eddie frowned. “Hey!”

Steve turned and he could see that Steve was on the phone with someone. The other man mouthed, ‘Sorry!’ when he spotted Eddie in the doorway.

“I gave you this number for work purposes only,” Steve continued with a sigh. “I’m just not interested in you, Caleb. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Understanding slowly dawned over Eddie. He knew who Steve was talking to now. Caleb worked at the same hair salon Steve did and was constant thorn in Steve’s side. Always flirting with him and just generally making Steve uncomfortable.

He ripped the backpack off of his shoulder and started digging around. He pulled out a notebook and a pen. He turned to a blank page and wrote: TELL HIM YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND

Steve looked at the sign with a frown of confusion. ‘But I don’t’ he mouthed back.

Eddie pointed at himself.

Steve chewed on his thumb for a moment before he nodded. “Caleb!” he said interrupting the other man’s stream of consciousness that he was just spewing at Steve on the end of the line. “Look. I didn’t want to have to pull this card because ‘no’ is a complete sentence, but I have a boyfriend.”

Eddie gave him a thumbs up.

“I haven’t brought him up before because he’s not out–”

Eddie scoffed, smirking with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean we’re not out as a couple to our friends and family,” Steve amended, sticking his tongue out at him. “Of course they know I’m bisexual and he’s gay, they just don’t know that we’ve been dating.”

That was certainly true, especially considering that they weren’t actually dating.

Eddie scribbled another note: WAYNE

“Well,” Steve said with a huff of laughter, “his uncle knows, but my parents don’t.”

Eddie started on another note, but Steve beat him to it. “It’s a small house and thin walls, the dude was going to find out sooner or later.”

Eddie nearly choked on his own tongue. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head in shock.

Steve laughed. “And have my parents walk in on us? Fuck that. I trust his Uncle Wayne way more than I do my parents.”

Eddie looked down at the half-written message that would have spelled out TRUST with a fond smile on his face.

Steve rolled his eyes. “What do you mean you want me to prove he exists? Like describe him or something?”

Eddie jotted down another note: PERSISTANT BASTARD

Steve slammed a hand over his mouth to cover the laugh that bubbled to his lips.

He cleared his throat. “So are we talking looks or personality?” he asked. “Because I could go on about both.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, causing Steve’s cheeks flush.

“Looks?” Steve asked, his voice a little high at the absurdity of it all. “Oh. Wow. Yeah. He’s got the most amazingly soulful brown eyes I’ve ever seen outside of the movies. I’ve heard people describe them as doe-eyed or puppy-dog eyes. They aren’t bad descriptions, just... not close enough. I don’t think there is a word or phrase that matches their glory.”

Eddie shoved his hair in front of mouth to hide his embarrassment. Steve took a step toward him.

“He has long hair in soft curly locks that frame his face,” Steve continued and Eddie dropped the aforementioned lock, choosing to duck his head, and look away, rocking back on his heels.

Steve took another step forward. “He has these dimples that just light up his whole countenance when he smiles. They are the single most kissable part of his face, if you don’t include his lips.”

Eddie’s mind was spinning out of control, because there was no way Steve was making this up on the spot. These had to be things Steve had actually thought about.

But Steve wasn’t done talking. “He’s whipcord thin, but don’t let that fool you. He is strong, so strong.”

Eddie head jerked up and stared at Steve in amazement.

The other boy ducked his head, twirling his fingers around the phone cord. “I told you could go on and on about his looks, man. I could tell you about how long his eyelashes are or his legs that give him this causal sensuality that should be fucking illegal.”

Eddie didn’t think he could get any redder. He was so, so wrong.

“You want me to wax poetic about his personality now?” Steve asked incredulously. “No, I’m not describing Jon Bon Jovi. He’d be offended at the comparison. Eddie Van Halen is closer to the mark, or maybe Kirk Hemmett if you really make him blush.”

Cue Eddie’s blush burning his ears and flushing his throat; a part of his body that was refusing to do what it was supposed to and fucking allow breath to enter his lungs.

“What’s he like?” Steve breathed and Eddie was instantly jealous of his ability to do so. “He is so smart.”

Eddie snorted divisively.

“The school system may have failed him more times then I care to count,” Steve insisted, “but god, he is so clever, coming up with stories on fly. He has all this knowledge of so many things. He learned elvish and is learning dwarfish.” He snorted. “Because he can.”

Eddie blushed. Even his friends from Hellfire and Corroded Coffin thought he was a little insane trying to learn those languages. Not Steve, apparently.

“He uses it for his D&D games–campaigns, sorry,” Steve said, more to Eddie then to Caleb. Eddie mouthed ‘It’s okay.’ And Steve lit up with the brightest smile.

He took another step forward. “You know those kids that come into the store all the time?” Steve burst out laughing. “Yes, my kids. He loves them as much as I do. Maybe even more.”

Eddie scrambled to write another note: NOT POSSIBLE

Steve blushed this time. “Understands them better, certainly.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side and half shrugged. That was fair.

“He DMs for them every week,” Steve continued. “DM? Oh that stands for dungeon master. It’s like the storyteller or master of the story. He sets the path for the characters to follow or blatantly ignore.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh.

“He does the voices for each person the party meets and it always makes me laugh,” Steve said. “My favorite is the voice he did for the princess. I don’t think there was a dry eye from all the laughing everyone was doing.”

Eddie grinned. That was his favorite, too. He had done it to make Steve laugh, the fact that it had made everyone else laugh too was just icing on the cake.

“Which, of course, impressed Dustin,” Steve said. He paused. “Oh Dustin is the one with curly hair and those hats.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. That’s another strike against this Caleb dude, not knowing the names of Steve’s kids. Like they came as a packaged deal. Everyone knew that.

Steve cleared his throat and looked down as he too felt Caleb’s disinterest keenly as well. “Anyway, anyone who can impress that little butthead is number one in my book.”

Eddie smiled tenderly at Steve before he jotted down a note again. YOU IMPRESS HIM TOO.

Steve blushed. “He can take his talent for story telling into song writing as well. He might not be the singer of his band–” There was another pause. “Yeah, an honest to god, plays at The Hideout every Tuesday metal band. He plays guitar. Lead, not rhythm. His best friend Jeff is rhythm guitar and their lead singer. He can read music and learn a song by ear. Do you know how fucking rare that is? To be able to do both? Trust me, it’s rare, okay?”

“Look, Caleb,” Steve growled, “don’t get pissy with me. You asked me describe my boyfriend. I warned you that I could go on and on.”

Eddie could barely breathe. This was starting to feel less like an excuse to get this asshole to stop harassing Steve and more and more real with every compliment that came out of his friend’s mouth.

Steve’s own breath caught in his chest. He looked directly at Eddie, so full of adoration, Eddie was sure his heart full on stopped.

“Yeah, of course I do,” Steve murmured, “of course I love him. God, how could I not. He means everything to me.” He tried to step forward but the cord got caught in his fingers, so he unwrapped it and took a final step toward Eddie. The cord was now taut, stretched as far as it could go.

Eddie could tell that the scant two feet between them was too far for Steve, but he was tethered to phone. He knew that that ache and longing in Steve’s face mirrored his own expression.

“And I am so grateful I get to call him mine...” Steve finished, his breath shallow as he fought to get his heart rate under control.

Permanent Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @redfreckledwolf @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst

***

Part 2

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #fake relationship #for all of ten minutes #because they dorks are that far gone for each other

803 notes · View notes

carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 6 months

Text

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 48

Part 1 Part 47

The nostalgia of the morning cannot be overstated for Steve. Sure, the fight over the bathroom is more cramped than it used to be, and Eddie’s much grumpier in the mornings than Tommy’s ever been. And yeah, Eddie doesn’t have enough spare toothbrushes, so Steve has to fake disgust when Carol snatches his out of his hand and starts brushing her own teeth with nary a rinse-off.

Carol digs through Eddie’s drawers until she finds a shirt ripped up enough that tucking it into yesterday’s jeans looks like a purposeful statement instead of a walk-of-shame look, ignoring Eddie’s squawking. Steve does the same, and by the time they stumble into the morning dressed and ready, Eddie looks like he’s adopted a couple preps he’s converted to his demonic metal ways. It’s Carol’s hair – too perky by halves.

And yeah, Uncle Wayne is sitting at the table, eyebrows raised like he’s trying to figure out the minutiae of the three of them coming out of his nephew’s room bright and early on a random Tuesday morning. Sleepovers at Steve or Tommy’s never involved any sort of parental oversight, and one’s at Carol’s involved everyone sneaking out of the window to avoid the breakfast table all together.

“Didn’t make enough toast,” Uncle Wayne mutters tiredly, even as his eyes vertifiably twinkle over his mug as he looks between the three of them before settling onto his nephew.

Eddie, never a morning person even on the best of days, slumps down in his customary chair, thumping his forehead down on the table with a groan.

Carol scoffs, scooping up a piece of toast and eggs onto one of the two empty plates laid out, glaring at Eddie as she takes a ferocious bite. Then, seemingly remembering her manners, she smiles over at Uncle Wayne like butter wouldn’t melt and sweetly says, “thank you, Uncle Wayne.”

Steve goes to the counter, shoving two more pieces of bread in the toaster and waiting impatiently for them to pop back up.

Behind him, Eddie’s near-snoring into his eggs, snuffling. Steve turns around, smiling as Uncle Wayne elbows him in the ribs. “Introduce me to your friend, boy.”

“Not my friend,” Eddie mutters. Steve turns back force the half-baked toas up and out of the toaster impatiently just as Eddie hurriedly continues, “but this is Carol Perkins! Steve’s–”

“Best friend,” Carol says. Steve slides back over to them, leaning against the fridge to watch the show, unwilling to slink off into the living room when there’s a show to be had. He eats both pieces dry, choking it down with a glass of orange juice he pours from the fridge.

He downs the cup, wiping his juice-mustache, before meeting Uncle Wayne’s judgemental eyes. “Don’t have room for another stow-away.”

Carol chokes on her eggs as Steve laughs. “This one will be leaving,” he says.

Everyone ignores Eddie grumbling quietly under his breath. “Aww, Stevie,” she says, pouting up at him and lowering one of her eyelids mockingly. “You trying to get rid of little old me?”

Steve rolls his eyes, turning his back to rinse out his juice cup before putting it carefully on the rack to dry. “Whatever,” he mutters, walking past the table to go snag their backpacks from Eddie’s room, stomping out of the trailer with a called, “bye, Uncle Wayne!” to wait for the other two by the van.

Eddie comes stumbling out, clearly being pushed along by an unmerciful Carol. He slides into the driver’s seat just as Steve’s buckling his seatbelt. Instead of settling down in the back, Carol sits between them on the floor, bickering with Eddie over what cassette they should play.

When they park, Carol barely waits for the van to come to a complete stop before jumping out and skipping off, blowing a kiss over her shoulder just before she melds into the mob that is the student body at large.

Steve and Eddie sit in silence for a moment, reveling in the silence, like the echoing quiet after a bomb has gone off. Or when the cops come, and someone cuts the music at a party.

“What a freak,” Eddie says. He sounds like he can’t decide between being impressed or disgusted by her, unsure where he’s going to land.

Steve laughs, sliding out of the car himself, following in Carol’s wake. The day passes, Steve rides the wave of it, a buoy on the waves that never quiet settles into one spot.

It’s not Carol who sits at their table at lunch, but a Nancy-less Jonathan. Steve smiles absently at him as he squeezes between Steve and Eddie, eyes shifting over to his old table. Carol’s already there, whispering heatedly into Tommy’s ear. He looks sullen, eyebrows pinched and mouth sneering the way it always does when someone tells him something he doesn’t want to hear. Carol smack him with the back of her hand, hard in the arm until he leans away, full-on scowling as she continues to scold him.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess the topic of their conversation, especially after Tommy’s eyes lock with Steve’s across the busy lunchroom. Their gazes hold. Tommy looks serious, sad in a way he rarely is, even more rarely lets show in public. Steve’s heart shudders, the long-buried desire for the past rearing its head.

But then Jonathan leans into him, whispers, “I think we should tell someone,” and Steve glances his way.

When he looks back, Tommy’s turned away entirely, slamming the contents of his tray into the trash as he stalks out of the cafeteria entirely. Steve looks back to Carol, who meets his eyes with a snarl on her face, shrugging, like she’s indifferent to Tommy’s reaction. Steve sighs, looking away.

“Tell someone what?” Steve asks quietly.

Jonathan leans closer, lowering his voice even further. “About your weird powers,” Jonathan replies, the “duh” silent but heavily implied by his tone.

Steve scrunches his nose up, looking over Jonathan’s head at Eddie, who looks just as baffled as he is. “…who?” Eddie asks, just as Steve says, “why?”

Jonathan looks back and forth between them, his eyes just as intense as usual. “The lab people contacted Mom,” he says, mouth barely moving. “They wanted to check up on Will, see how he’s doing.”

Steve looks at Eddie over Jonathan’s hunched shoulders. For once, he can’t tell what Eddie’s thinking. Can’t even tell what he’s thinking himself besides a visceral reaction of wrong wrong wrong that makes him want to curl up in a ball somewhere dark and small.

“Uh, they experimented on a kid, dude,” Eddie says, scoffing. “No way in hell should we trust them with any further weirdness.”

“They what?” Steve demands.

Eddie waves his hand placatingly. “Later, Stevie,” he says, not taking his eyes away from Jonathan. “If Mama Byers wants to trust shady government goons, you shouldn’t tell her either.”

Jonathan looks down at the table. Steve notices he hadn’t even bothered to grab lunch before sitting down. He scoots his own food closer to Jonathan, feels relieved when he immediately steals a couple fries.

“But what if she makes him go?” Jonathan whispers around the fry in his mouth. “What if there’s something actually wrong with Will?” Left unsaid, is that if something’s wrong with Will, there’s something wrong with all three of them.

The tight ball of Steve’s emotions curls up tighter, constricting his throat until it’s hard to choke out, “we’ll go with him.”

Eddie squawks, “what?” incredulously, leaning over Jonathan like he wants to shake Steve where he sits. Their friends quiet around the table, staring over at them, attention caught from Eddie’s shocked outburst. Eddie smiles nervously around the table before murmuring from the side of his mouth, “fucking fine!”

Steve slumps, relieved. Disappointed. Stressed enough that his organs are eating themselves inside him.

He eats a fry, like a normal boy on a normal Tuesday lunchtime would do. “Let us know what she decides to do,” he demands.

Jonathan nods. He spends the rest of lunch taking up space between them. A Byers is a Byers is a Byers, but Steve can’t help spending the rest of lunch tugging at the tie between him and Will, hoping the kid is okay.

Part 49

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fic

363 notes · View notes

starogeorgina · 10 months

Text

Twin flames

Warning: Age gap relationship, smut, swearing

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen × Reader

1.04

“Bastards or not, Rhaenyra’s sons are still just children; you can’t possibly think they deserve such slander!”

Aemond gives you a death glare. The queen, in all her wisdom, had tricked you into spending time with Aemond by inviting you to join her for supper in her chambers; she even had your favourite cake specifically made for the occasion. Under the impression that Helaena would be joining you as well, you said yes. But it was a fib; Helaena was nowhere to be found, and you were now left feeling awkward sitting across from your mother and brother. As expected, your mother shared her disdain for your uncle's plans of staying in King's Landing being made public, but the conversation quickly turned to her talking poorly of Rhaenyra, and Aemond jumped at the chance to slander Prince Lucerys.

“Enough!” Your mother looks between you and Aemond, shaking her head. “This pointless arguing ends here. It’s time you started to behave like husband and wife.”

Knowing where this conversation would lead next, you wanted nothing more than to tell your mother to shove the idea of your producing heirs with Aemond, but you bite your tongue instead. There was once a time you would have done your duty and relished having a baby of your own, but now the thought of laying with Aemond physically makes your skin crawl. Dark circles hung under your mother's eyes, and the skin around her fingernails was red and raw. She has been stressed again, which was the only reason you chose a different approach than arguing.

You sigh, “I’m not having this conversation again.”

You stand to leave, but she grips the sleeve of your pale blue dress, giving you a pleading look, and says, “I believe Aemond has something he’d like to say.”

You look to your husband, waiting for him to either spew venom or put on a fake display of kindness to make it appear like he cares for the sake of your mother. But when he says nothing, you turn and leave.

—

“Be gentle, Tyvaros,” you say, motioning for Lady Rhaena to come closer. You take her hand and place it on the side of your head. Tyvaros made a loud grunting noise before leaning into her touch.

Despite his frightful appearance, Tyvaros reminded you of a kitten during the times you were alone; he purred while nuzzling his nose into your embrace. You couldn’t imagine not having your black beauty in your life; you were convinced one half of your soul completely belongs to him. Which is why you felt for Rhaena so much; it must have been awful not having that connection.

“I’m surprised my father allowed me to get this close; how did you convince him?”

“I think he said yes just so I’d stop asking him.”

You both chuckled. You kissed Tyvaros before stepping back to let him fly off to go hunt. The strong winds from the flaps of his large wings cause dirt to swirl in the air. You cover your face with your hands to stop anything from going in your eyes. When Daemon finally caved and said he would allow you to introduce his daughter to your dragon but not ride him just yet, When Tyvaros started to look small in the distance, you began to start walking back towards the keep.

You smile as your fingers brush over the necklace sitting on your collarbone. Since his daughters came to King's Landing, Daemon has been a lot happier, although his relationship with your father still seems strained.

“Are you coming to Dragonstone with us?” Rhaena asks. “Because if you are, I think I should fly on dragon back with you.”

“I don’t think your father will agree,” you snorted. “And I am unsure if I’ll be able to accompany you on your trip. I’m traveling to old town to see my brother, Daeron.”

She pouts, “Baela really wants you to come with us as well, and I know it would mean a lot to my father. He’s really taken with you; he values your friendship.”

You smile at her. Both of Daemon’s daughters were smart, kind, and beautiful, much like their mother was. You only vaguely remember meeting Lady Laena once when you were much younger, visiting her brother at court. She was very beautiful, from what you recall, and not only held strong feelings towards your uncle but Rhaenyra as well.

Over the past few months, Daemon has shown you more and more affection. He gave you pearls, silks, and books as gifts, along with a jade tiara that once belonged to the empress of Leng. He read poems to you in High Valyrian and dined with you often, either alone or accompanied by his daughters. You’d race each other on dragon back, sneak out of the keep at night, and under disguise go and see a play or drink in a tavern, happy to spend time together without being watched over. Your feelings for your uncle had become more romantic, but you tried your best not to let on.

Rhaena steps in front of you and says, “Please.”

“Well, I suppose I’d be rather lost without my two favorite ladies keeping me company. I shall see what I can do.”

Happy that she’s convinced you, Rhaena beams at you before skipping ahead. Traveling to Dragonstone with them was tempting; you’d never been before and wished to get to know your eldest sibling, Rhaenyra, but knowing the reaction you’d receive from your mother, brother, and grandsire was enough to cause you pause.

—

Your finger glides along the dusty bookcase in the library that is hardly ever used. When you reach the small table next to the only window in the room, you sit down and begin to read. Moments later, you’re joined by your uncle. “I heard my daughters finally wore you down and that you’re coming with us to Dragonstone.”

For the last two days, Baela and Rhaena had persistently begged for you to join them; both young girls were excited to visit their cousins and desperately wanted you to go as well. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I will be able to travel with you.”

“Why not?”

“I believe I'm going to travel to old town to visit my brother and some lords on the queen's behalf.”

Daemon snaps the book in his hand shut and says, “Fuck the lords.”

You chewed on your bottom lip while lowering your head to look at the book open on the table, but you’d lost your place, and trying to find it again was difficult with your uncle's gaze burning into you. Gulping it down, you pretend not to notice how intensely he’s staring. You didn’t want to admit the real reason you were hesitant to go.

“Ñuha zaldrītsos, what is it?”

Shaking your head, you say, “I cannot say; you’ll think it’s pathetic.”

Across the table, he chuckles and says, “I doubt that.”

You place a fabric bookmark in between the pages so you don't lose your place and close the book in front of you, knowing you aren’t going to finish it any time soon. “The last time I saw my nephews was when Aemond lost his eye and my mother did what she did.”

Daemon's eyes softened. “And?”

“What if Rhaenyra doesn’t accept me? I know how cruel my side of the family, ‘the greens’,have treated her and her sons.”

“You're scared she will reject you?”

You nod.

Daemon rubs circles on the back of your thumb. “Why does it matter to you what she thinks?”

“Because she’s my sister, and my father loves her so much. I know it would mean the world to him if Rhaenyra had someone on her side; he worries that she’s lonely.”

He sighs, “I promise you Rhaenyra won’t turn you away; she craves a family unit.”

“You can’t possibly promise that.”

“You’re nothing like your mother. Rhaenyra would accept you and your siblings into her life, aside from that insufferable one-eyed cunt.”

“Wow,” you say, raising your brows. “That’s the first time you’ve not called both Aemond and Aegon cunts, only Aemond.”

“Hmm. We are leaving in the morrow; I’d like your decision by night so I can let my daughters know beforehand.”

“Lady Rhaena insists she’s riding on Tyvaros with me to Dragonstone.”

“Absolutely not.”

Hearing the sudden sharp tone in his voice caused you to smile. You loved seeing Daemon so protective of his twins. Thinking of his sweet girls, you finally make a decision. You stand to leave it before you go. You lean down and kiss Daemon on the cheek. “Thank you, Kepus; I will see you tonight.”

—

A knot twists in your stomach as you approach your brother's chambers. The walk seemed longer than usual as your mind raced with all the different ways Aemond might react to you travelling to Dragonstone with your uncle, but during this time of day he often had tea with your mother most days so he wouldn’t be alone while receiving the news.

Ser Criston’s eyes widen slightly when he notices you, “princess.”

“Ser Criston, I hope you are well this evening.”

He opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes it. Pressing his lips together tightly, he looks hesitant as he opens the door.

“Thank you,” you say, walking by him. It was unusual for the knight to not engage with you, and you also found it strange that he hung his head low.

Your eyes scan the room, and you freeze when you finally spot Aemond, your husband, fucking one of his whores. She was bent over on his bed as he thrust into her from behind.

Like a dog taking a bitch.

You slowly back away before turning and running out of the room. Strangely enough, you didn’t feel hurt or upset at seeing your husband fucking another woman; however, you did feel like a fool. A fool who had been holding back on her own feelings and desires to try and maintain some level of respect and dignity in her marriage, but no more.

From now on, you’ll be chasing your own desires.

—

You smile politely at the knight, who opens the door leading into your uncle's quarters. Walking further into it, you frown, noticing he is nowhere to be seen.

“Zaldrītsos, I didn’t think you’d come.”

Daemon smirks, walking closer to you from the balcony, dressed in only his briefs. You swallowed hard; he truly was gorgeous. “You’ve cut your hair.”

“I have. Did you come to a decision?”

You don’t answer him; instead, you grab his face, pulling him close enough to press your lips against his. Daemon seems taken aback by your actions but quickly kisses you back. He wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you from the ground slightly. You attempt to wrap your legs around his waist, but your dress restricts your movements. Grinning into the kiss, Daemon lifts you even higher, his hands grabbing your bum while he walks you backwards until your back hits the wall.

“I’m guessing that you’re coming?” He asks between kisses pressed to your neck.

“Yes, I’ll go with you.”

Daemon kisses along your jawline before sliding to his knees. Now kneeling in front of you, his hands caress the back of your legs. Slowly, he raises his hands up your legs until they grip the bottom of your skirts. Your breath hitches in your throat as he maintains eye contact. As the cold air sends shivers down your spine, he licks a strip up your thigh. You practically snatch the fabric from him and bunch your skirts up so he can make use of both hands.

Your free hand scrapes across his scalp as Daemon removes your small cloth with his teeth. Your heart rattles in your chest with nerves, knowing this is the first time another person is going to see you this vulnerable. One of Daemon’s hands slid between your legs, rubbing between your wet folds. After teasing you for a few moments, he pushes one finger inside of you.

You moan at the strange sensation, “Gods, Daemon!”

He gives you time to adjust before starting to slowly work his finger inside you before adding another. His tongue flicks against your clitoral area as his thick fingers scissor inside you, bringing you pleasure you never thought possible. Soon your legs begin to feel terrible as the coil in your lower stomach snaps, and you scream Daemon’s name as he gives you his first orgasm.

Smirking, he kisses up your clothed body, cheekily nipping at your breast before gently pressing his lips against your own. The taste of you on him was intoxicating. Daemon nuzzles into your neck. “My sweet girl, I will show you every pleasure possible if you allow me to.”

“Yes,” you pant, still coming down from your high. You reach for Daemon’s breeches and attempt to untie them, but Daemon stops.

“We have all the time in the world to fuck for love and pleasure. But tonight, tonight is about only you, my little dragon.”

The only reply that falls from your mouth is a loud moan as Daemon begins to suck and nip at your neck while his hands begin to loosen the fabric covering your breasts.

—

𝘈 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

“𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳; 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴.”

“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥?” 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱.

“𝘜𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰, 𝘐’𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳.” 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘐𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺. “𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢’𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘔𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰 𝘐.”

𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦. “𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘥? 𝘖𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶?”

𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦; 𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥. 𝘋𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭; 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺, 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯; 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦. “𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢?”

𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴, “𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶? 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢!”

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮; 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩.

𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴. “𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴; 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸.”

“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳; 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯.”

“𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯!” 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰. “𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘦.”

“𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴.”

“𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳? 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘳𝘬 𝘮𝘦? 𝘜𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘖𝘵𝘵𝘰’𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯?”

“𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳! 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳…”

Zaldrītsos - Little dragon

Ñuha zaldrītsos - My little dragon

Kepus- Uncle

#house of the dragon #Daemon Targaryen x you #Daemon Targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen/you #daemon targaryen fanfic #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x fem oc #Daemon Targaryen x oc #Daemon Targaryen/oc

694 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

AITA for saying my family shows favoritism towards my baby cousin?

(This is copied from my Reddit drafts because my partner told me tumblr would be better for this and I trust them)

Okay this is a long one so I’m just gonna throw out fake names for everyone and everyone is white middle class Americans

I, Op, 20M, I’m a trans man not accepted by my family. This is relevant

Renee, 20F, my twin sister

Bea, 16F, my younger sister

Lee, 35F, my aunt on my father’s side

Lucas, 2M, my cousin, son of Lee

Suzie, 5F, my cousin, daughter of Lee

My father, 44M, the patriarch of our whole family

My mother, 45F

Grandpa, 76M, paternal grandpa, previous patriarch

Grandma, 74F, paternal grandma

So I’m sending this in on Christmas Day of 2023. For some context, I still live at home, but it’s more of a roommate situation now that I’m an adult. Renee lives on her out-of-state college campus but visits for holidays, and Bea is still a high schooler. Lee, her children, and her husband who isn’t relevant to this (I love my uncle, we just literally never talk) live across the country. My father is losing the battle with cancer and can’t travel, so we had two separate christmases this year, one with my immediate family and one with Lee. Grandma and Grandpa went to Lee’s, which was awesome for me because that meant I got to avoid them this year!

As the character list above states, I’m (one of) the oldest of the five grandkids with my cousins being born a lot later than me and my sisters. My family is a traditional WASP family and staunchly conservative with Aunt Lee actively being a cop right now while my parents and Grandpa served in the military. Growing up undeniably queer was hilarious, I know. But the family dynamic wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, my family did a good job of trying to hide the fact that Renee was the favorite child lol, but that was more on the basis of her having the same traditional values that they do until Aunt Lee had Suzie, then she obviously became the favorite. Fine by me, she’s an adorable girl and I love spoiling her. Also, ACAB does apply for Aunt Lee for being complacent in this system, it’s not just the most relevant part of the story besides explaining how she fits into the family dynamic

But then Lee had Lucas a few years later and the focus in the family shifted to him. At first, it was baby fever making everyone dote over him (and I’m guilty of this too) but after a while, I realized that the fever hasn’t died down. If we had family reunions, everyone would flock to Lucas and I would be the one watching Suzie. For a toddler, she’s a great conversationalist, but it was still sad to see all her aunts and uncles and cousins showering her baby brother with attention and not her. And then the comments started. That my father would only refer to Lucas as “my nephew” even when talking directly to Lee (unhinged to witness in person). That Grandpa was so happy to finally have a grandson (felt great). The lady-killer comments and guessing what profession he’s gonna go into based on how chubby of a baby he is (the money’s on Linebacker, little dude is built like a truck). Stuff like that

None of these comments were ever made about Suzie when she was born, and I really don’t want to admit that it’s because Lucas is a boy, but thats the only answer I can think of when trying to understand the favoritism. Lucas is showered in gifts and love and while I know newborns need that, Suzie received nowhere near this much attention. Lee’s husband doesn’t go to family functions because he works full time, but I heard Suzie mumble at Thanksgiving last month that she wanted to go home to daddy. It broke my fucking heart, so I called him and she got to FaceTime with my uncle until my phone died

At this point, I’m not even upset that the family ignores my obvious trans-ness as I’m over a year on T (paid for by myself too) in favor of my boy cousin. I’m upset that Suzie is getting left out of the fawning while she’s still super young and she could grow up resenting Lucas because of it.

Anyways, so this morning we opened gifts as an immediate family and I got to FaceTime my significant other as they unboxed their gift from me and we were having a good time until my dad FaceTimes Grandpa. Grandpa answers and Dad immediately asks how his nephew is. Lucas is pushed in front of the phone and all I can hear is asking about how Lucas is, is Lucas talking yet, is Lucas reading yet. I manage to squeeze my head in and ask about Suzie and Lee’s voice off camera says that “oh she’s fine, just snobbish.” Snobbish? A five year old?

And here’s where I’m probably the Asshole. Honestly, I’m looking between ESH and JAH here, but would perfectly understandable if tumblr decides YTA. My response to Lee’s comment was: “well maybe she wouldn’t be if everyone didn’t pick Lucas as the family favorite.”

My dad smacked me upside the head, Renee and Bea got really pissed off, and the FaceTime went quiet until it was cut off and Grandpa called back to talk to Dad privately. Bea called me an asshole and while my Mom got onto her for her language, Mom agreed that I was.

My dad came back from the phone and did the silent point towards his bedroom, y’all with shitty parents know the one. Because I’m twenty fucking years old and pay RENT here, I shook my head, grabbed my keys, and went to go hang out with my significant partner and work friends. We had a great time and I’m currently in the car with my significant other while typing this. I’m gonna spend the night at their place and go back in the morning to see how bad the damage is. My significant other says I was justified in what I said, but two of my work friends (one who’s a Cishet guy who grew up in a similar household and another who’s a new dad with his own son) say that what I said was uncalled for and rude. They explained that I had no right to weaponize Lucas and Suzie like that and I understand that. I’m just tired of Suzie being neglected and, selfishly I know, I’m tired of how my identity is ignored as well

So, tumblr, AITA?

TL;DR, My two year old cousin is the “only” grandson in the family. The family ignores my male identity and my baby cousin’s five year old sister to fawn over the two year old. Am I The Asshole for pointing this out point blank in front of the whole family on Christmas morning?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

359 notes · View notes

tvgals · 11 months

Text

‘ I’D MAKE THE WORLD STOP SPINNING . ‘

e42! miles morales x black! fem! reader.

synopsis — you hate miles’ job as the prowler, so miles does the only thing he can think of .

“miles, i don’t like this.” you tell your boyfriend while patching him up, his wounds practically flowing blood. “i know. you tell me everytime i come over here.” miles says, hissing when he feels the peroxide cleaning up the wound on his back. “so why do you keep doing it? it’s like you enjoy doing this shit.” you tell him, worry laced in your voice. “baby, you know i do it for us.” miles says, pulling you into his body, your hands on either side of him filled with cleaning supplies. you take a deep breath against his chest, smiling when you feel a kiss being pressed onto your head.

“baby, please.” you ask him, pulling your head away from its previous spot on his chest and looking into his eyes, his eye bags being prominent. “miles, you’re tired. you need to take a break.” you tell him, analyzing his face. “i’m not tired. i just look like this. you tryna say i’m ugly?” miles chuckles, looking at you twist your face up in disapproval but giggling nevertheless. “i’m serious, miles. this is dangerous, and i’ll be damned if i lose my boyfriend to some stupid shit.” miles looks at you for a second, watching how your eyes expressed how you were feeling, how you expressed yourself with your hands when you talked, and especially how your lips moves while you spoke to him.

“everything’ll be okay. i’ll tell uncle aaron i’m done being the prowler, that i’m done hurting people.” miles tells you, pulling your head up to look at him by your chin. “promise?” you ask. “cross my heart and hope to die.” miles grins, pressing kisses all over your face. you smile and miles hops off of your sink, walking into your bedroom. you put everything up and follow behind him, sitting on your bed. ”i’m tired as hell..” miles groans, laying down onto your bed. “i thought you said you wasn’t tired?” you asked, laying down next to him, yawning.

“i lied. had to prove a point to you.” miles admits, snuggling himself into the covers and faking a sleep. “g’night, miles. love you.” you whisper, kissing his temple and falling asleep yourself. after about ten minutes of making sure you’re asleep and won’t wake up, miles reaches for his phone — turning it on and texting uncle aaron.

‘ yo? ‘

‘What?’

‘i’m finna come over there. i gotta talk to you.’

‘The doors unlocked.’

miles slithers out of bed, laying his phone next to your pillow, and puts his feet into his crocs and walks out through your front door, being sure to close it as softly as he can. he walks down the stairs of your apartment and pats his sweatpants down, almost panicking when he doesn’t feel his phone in his pocket. shit. he left it next to your pillow. miles stands on the second to last flight of stairs for a second, contemplating on going back. miles sighed and left out the building. miles walks down the streets with his hood on, biting the inside of his cheek. was he really going to do this? was he going to quit the business with his uncle just for you? all this thoughts were cut short when he saw uncle aaron’s building, on the verge of being run down and abandoned. miles unlocks the door and walks up the stairs, opening uncle aaron’s apartment door.

“miles?” aaron calls out from somewhere in the back. “it’s me.” miles calls back, slipping off his crocs. “what you gotta talk about?” the taller man asks, emerging from his bedroom. “so my girl-“ “y/n?” aaron cuts off miles with a smirk. “yeah. she don’t like this prowler stuff i got going on. so i’m here to say i’m done with this shi’. like forreal this time.” miles tells his uncle, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “nah, don’t work like that youngin’.” uncle aaron chuckles, putting his own hands into his pockets. “how come it don’t?” miles asks, cocking a brow.

“can’t get into business and then just quit. finish what you started.” uncle aaron almost growled, miles face heating up in anger. “listen. i could lose y/n over this. i love her. please.” miles pleads, his hands balling up into fists. “sorry, miles. doesn’t work that way.” uncle aaron shrugs, walking back into his bedroom. miles takes a deep breath, turning onto his heel and putting his crocs back on, making a point by slamming the door behind him. while on the way home back to your house, miles knew he was fucked. maybe you wouldn’t be mad at him. at least he tried? you loved him, so maybe you’d let it slide. the walk seemed 10x shorter than normal. miles stopped outside of your building. what if he just didn’t show up? what would happen if he just ran away? if he didn’t confront the problem? his phone was already in your room so no one would know where he was. but he didn’t want to worry his pretty girl, what would his mom think? but it seemed as if his legs moved faster than his mind, that he was already down a dark alleyway and around two corners. that this was the life he was going to live.

TAGLIST — @looking4chanel @draculara-vonvamp @lovelytayy @laylasbunbunny @kisminarii @d7n3 @deadgirlkisses @darkknightpeanutbagel @thecoloredpages @xricly @princesslilisworld @baboon-milk333 @marcelineormars @mxspiderman2099 @ravereina @stevenknightmarc @die4niyahhh

#e42 miles #myatalks🫡#black reader #im black #blkshoyo #miles morales x you #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales angst #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x fem!reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv x you #atsv x reader #atsv x y/n #atsv x black reader #myaa

663 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 4 months

Text

return to main menu // steve’s music

Honey, On Your Knees

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: Your husband and you get nasty in a church…again. // This fic is a part of my "Her Body Is Bible" AU - you can find the first story and more here // NSFW 18+

the song: Holy by King Princess

2.5k words

warnings: warnings from prev fic still apply // religious themes, and the holiday Christmas being celebrated // As with part one, you’ll be blocked - nobody is forcing you to read this // Mentions of trying to get pregnant // Alcohol mentions and use by reader // SMUT (oral - reader receiving, public, steve is kind of edging us a little if you squint) // My blog is 18+

A/N: originally requested for an event, I combined two requests from an anon and @djoswiftie - thanks for your patience 💛. The prompts were [APOLOGY: a kiss offered as a way to apologize or make amends] / [FLASH: one muse “accidentally” flashes the other] -- maybe not in the way you think FYI // [NECK: a kiss or gentle sucking on neck] / [PALM: one muse palms the other muse’s penis/breasts through clothes]

He hadn’t meant to say it.

The house was warm, the low murmur of relatives catching up while silverware clinked together mixed with Nat King Cole crooning out of the stereo. Mashed potatoes heaped by spoonfuls onto plates, kids’ new toys scattered in a rush once the ham was carved, and soon wine started to be poured for those of age.

Vivian Harrington simply smiled as you told her none for you and moved on, but the same couldn’t be said for others at the table.

“Not drinking, huh? Are you pregnant?”

If his scotch drunk uncle jumped over the line of appropriate, Steve ignored it all together, replying hopefully and without thought.

“No…not yet!”

He hadn’t meant to say it.

Your eyes widened, jaw tensed as you huffed out a breath through your nose. Steve’s cheeks flushed, and the table erupted into chaos, terribly intimate questions directed towards you.

“Oh! Are you trying?! How exciting!”

“When you are, make sure Stephen here does everything. It’s the least he can do.”

“How long have you been trying? Don’t give up, Ben and I took two years, but look at us now…”

“How many do you want?”

“Are you still going to work?”

“Kids? So soon?”

“Who’s having a baby? Uncle Steve?!”

“Vivian?” You called, flagging Steve’s mom over.

You took the bottle of previously passed on wine and gave yourself a more than generous pour, and Steve whispered, “Baby, I thought that alcohol could affect your…”

The look you gave him had his mouth closing quickly, keeping his concern about ovulation and hormones to himself. You turned away from him, then answered every single question with grace and a grip on the glass that made Steve gulp around his own drink.

Eventually, the table settled into topics that gave you a small reprieve.

Steve leaned closer, lips almost to the apple of your cheek and you turned, so his kiss was cut off, mouth parted in surprise as he blinked at you. He spoke softly, fingers reaching for yours as he did, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Should we give you two some privacy?” A quip and waggled eyebrows from the other side of the table, and you plastered on a perfect smile and faked a laugh, poured yourself more wine and Steve’s shoulders deflated.

You still hadn’t spoken to him. Dinner passed, and then dessert, and then coats were being pushed on and kids wrangled into cars for the midnight service.

Steve managed to get you close to him in the very backseat of one of the vehicles. He kept his eyes on your profile as you stared straight ahead.

“Are you going to ignore me the entire night? I’m sorry,” he started, voice low.

Your gaze turned to him finally and your chest ached from how apologetic he looked. And honestly, you were over it as quickly as it happened, and the glasses of wine helped, and you were ready to say so. But then Steve’s fingers brushed your knee, up and down and back up your thigh. They nudged at the hem of your skirt, testing. His other fingers curled around your neck, words dipping even lower, soft and for only your ears.

“How else can I tell you I’m sorry, honey?”

Steve’s thumb swiped down your neck, soothing and far too close to your racing pulse. It’d been sort of easy for him lately, and the thrill of making him think you were mad, the chance to make him sweat a little, to work for it, had your underwear growing wet.

“We can talk about it later, when we get home,” you whispered, sternly.

Steve nodded earnestly, until your fingers curled into your skirt, until the red, green and gold fabric pulled higher and higher. Your eyes remained on his until he had to look down, to see your black tights were not tights, but stockings. A sliver of supple skin revealed between plaid skirt and where they ended high on your thigh. The black lace disappearing as quickly as it was shown to him as your skirt dropped again, fanning nicely over your thighs.

His tongue swiped over his lip, adams apple bobbing. He cleared his throat, voice a warning, “Baby-”

The car pulled to a stop, and you were out on the pavement with his family, heading into the church before he’d really even caught his breath.

He watched you hang your coat, and help his nieces and nephews with theirs. His eyes traveled from the black heels up the black stockings that he now knew ended under your pretty Christmas skirt, curved around your thighs delicately and sinfully. He swallowed at the sight of red velvet over your breasts, at the memory of what happened last time you were here.

It was easy to slip away as churchgoers caught up over coffee and doughnuts before the service, as kids became preoccupied in the Sunday school rooms with toys. You made your way down a dark hallway under the guise of the bathroom, and had to bite down on your smile as an arm slunk around your waist and pulled you into a room silently and quickly.

Only lit by the soft light of the navy sky and moon outside, the room was obviously rarely used, a place for mismatched and forgotten things. Steve spun to face you, his fingers behind him clicking the lock closed with a barely audible, but still noticeable click.

“Yes?” You prompted, folding your arms over your chests and hiding your delight at the way the movement made his eyes flit down to your breasts.

Steve crossed the room in quick strides, hands finding your hips and tugging you to him gently as he spoke with sincerity.

“Angel,” his nose traced down the bridge of yours, before he kissed the tip of it, “I’m sorry.” He kissed your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your lips before he pulled away enough to look into your eyes again, so you could see how truly sorry he was.

“I really didn’t mean to say it, it slipped out. I’m just so excited, and I didn’t even think…”

“I know,” you offered quietly, as your fingers slipped into his hair, curling stray and unruly pieces behind his ears. Your eyes remained focused on your adjustments, sure that if you looked at his eyes for longer than two seconds, you’d forget you were “mad” and fuck him in a church again. You’d break and he’d have barely worked for it.

Steve knew this, you think.

Because your eyes caught the subtle twitch of his lips, the fake deep sigh, the way his head leaned forward until he was at your ear. Hot breath hitting skin in a way that had goosebumps exploding over your entire body, his voice sultry and low as he asked, “Can I make it up to you?”

“Steve…” your half-hearted start to a protest you didn’t want to give lost as he dipped lower, pressing silk lips to your neck.

His palms brushed over the curve of your breasts, they skated down your sides, lower and lower to your hips. As your head fell back, they circled to your ass, grabbing generous handfuls and squeezing as his breath grew sharper against your collarbone. Parted lips dragging across it, the tentative trail of his tongue warm and testing.

“We…we’re in a church,” you gulped around the words, his kisses traveling up the column of your throat now as he nudged your feet backwards.

“Didn’t stop us the last time.” Steve’s voice was shot, a goner the minute you showed him the stockings.

Men were too easy.

Your legs hit a couch arm, and Steve’s fingers grabbed for your jaw gently, thumb pulling at your chin so you had to look at him. Both of your chests moved rapidly, anticipating, as you fell deeper and deeper into the moss and honey in his iris’ - lost in the forest, stuck in the sticky trap.

His other hand roamed to the hem of your skirt, pads of his fingers buzzing over the skin above the stockings as he pulled the fabric higher. His head cocked in a way that said he knew what he was doing, the ghost of a smile on his lips telling you he knew that you weren’t mad, not really, but he’d play your game anyways.

“Let me make you feel good, honey,” his lips brushed over yours as he spoke. The chatter of people filling the chapel right outside grew louder, but his voice remained even and soft, “It’s the least I can do, don't you think?”

Maybe you were easy too.

Because you were nodding, and he was easing you down onto the couch. Steve knelt before you, watching you carefully, hungry, as he pulled your heels from your feet, letting them fall to the ground.

Your palms pressed to the cushion behind you as he lifted a leg, your words swallowed and caught somewhere in your chest with your breath as he kissed your ankle bone through the thin material. Steve kept his eyes on you, warm and greedy as he kissed up your calf, at your knee until he was at the top of the thigh high. He gently laid your leg back down, and then pulled at your waist until you were at the edge of the seat.

“You gonna be quiet for me?”

The nod of your head was pitiful, putty in his hands and from his words as he flipped your skirt up. Steve’s lips pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs, sweet and in a slow way that had heat rising to your cheeks. Your body hot, spine turning to liquid as he nudged his nose into the damp black silk covering you, as his fingers curled into the waistband.

Steve pulled them from you, sighing at the way they stuck to your lips. He slipped them down your legs, never letting his eyes leave the space between your thighs. He was taking his time, drinking you in with his eyes in a dirty gaze that had your entire body tightening, making you want him more than you ever had, erasing any sort of rationality or thoughts from your brain other than him and this.

His fingers tugged at your hips, squeezing possessively until a whine bubbled out of you, his name a desperate whisper, barely audible over the choir singing.

He hummed when you spread your legs wider for him, pressing against the couch as he leaned in. His hands roamed down and back up your thighs, until they were spreading you.

His thumbs held you apart, mouth a ghost over your cunt. Hot breath exhaled against slick lips that had your toes curling and your lungs somehow forgetting how to take in air. He had you on the ledge, and he hadn’t even started.

Steve pushed closer, the tip of his nose a slow drag through your slit, his lips skimming over your folds behind it, tasting, testing.

His tongue finally made contact with you, a long, slow lick from your entrance to just below your clit, making you wait, making your fingers dig into the cushion and your eyes look towards the heavens.

Steve did it again, painfully slow, the hot and wet glide of his tongue along you sinful. Over and over, flat, broad strokes of it, tasting every bit of you except for your clit, getting you higher and higher, closer to bliss without giving it to you.

You were throbbing, an insistent and buzzing pulse under your skin demanding to be felt, demanding to break. It felt like your ears were crackling with static like the speakers the pastor was now giving his sermon in.

Steve lifted on your hips that wiggled, caressing over the top of your ass. He stopped his movement with his tongue, panting over your cunt, letting his mouth hover against your glistening lips.

Your chest grew heavier with each rise and fall of labored breathing as you watched Steve’s tongue flick out, tracing the curves of you and letting his nose drag and nudge behind it. Teasing and taunting, pulling every last drop of want out, your body taut and ready to snap.

Then he looked up at you.

His cheeks flushed pink, and pupils blown wide, lit up in glittering moonlight streaming in through old and warped glass, he looked like something holy and angelic between your thighs. As if he were worshiping you, praying on his knees at your feet.

The grip he had on your hips shifted, pushing down your thighs and spreading you wider, and his voice was raspy as he asked, “You forgive me?”

Your head nodded once, fingers reaching for his hair to pull him closer, desperate for his mouth to be back on you. Your own voice shot, a pitiful whine as you begged him, “Please, need your-ohmygod.”

Steve’s spit hit your clit, making your thighs go to snap close, but his palms held you open forcefully. He wasn’t an angel worshiping, he was unholy, he was sin, he was filthy as he kept eye contact with you and dipped his mouth over you again.

His lips molded around your pulsing nerves, tongue flicking out in a rhythm that had your entire body lit up, vibrating, fraying and sparking. His hands pushed at your thighs that resisted him, he moaned against you as you fell forward. Your fingers yanking in his hair as your hips moved against his face.

Steve’s exhale was sharp as he released, sinking lower and dragging his tongue over your slit again. He was faster now, keeping his tongue flat against you as he lapped at your cunt, nose nudging against your clit over and over again as you rocked against it.

“Fuck, Ste-,” your hand slapped over your mouth and your eyes widened, but Steve didn’t let up. You tugged on his hair, whimpering, and his hand rose, finger pulling at your pouting bottom lip until you were parting for him. You moaned around the black silk he shoved into your waiting mouth.

He doubled down then, tongue prodding at your entrance, fast and precise licks up to your clit he kept working at with his nose. Steve’s heavy lidded gaze up at you had you crying out around the fabric, your chest crumpling over his head as you grinded down against his nose, unraveling for him.

Tears pricked behind your eyes, skin hot as you came around nothing but his tongue, he hadn’t even slipped a finger into you. Steve held your waist now as you arched, letting your thighs finally close around his face as he licked over you, humming against your sensitive nerves as he greedily took in everything you gave him.

He pulled away eventually, nose and lips skimming down your thigh until he was at your stockings. He pressed his cheek to your knee and looked up at you. Your underwear pulled from your mouth and crumpled in your fingers, your eyelashes fluttered as you tried to keep your eyes open, chest rising and falling ragged. You looked at him under your straining eyelids, warmth and affection and something far too sweet for what you two just did behind your gaze.

The choir was singing again, Silent Night, and your fingers pressed to your lips, hiding a smile and a giggle.

He hadn’t meant to say it, but he was kind of glad he did.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #superbly subpars writing

293 notes · View notes