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starstruckunknown-princess · 20 days

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Clematis - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Clematis (Clematis) - Meaning: Ingenuity, cleverness

Summary: Anthony's lover comes up with a way to see him after the ball.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 1504

Warnings: SMUT, probably poorly written cunnilingus (F receiving), reader has female anatomy, Regency era gender politics, Anthony loves giving head

Day 15 and not sure how I feel about this one. Getting it in under the wire, it's almost midnight where I'm at. I just want a man to come in through my window and eat my 😼 okay???

In Bloom Masterlist

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If this was how Anthony Bridgerton kissed, you couldn’t imagine how else he could make you feel. His lips were firm against yours, but gentle, coaxing, his large hands tracing down your neck and along the line of your decollete which made your breath hitch.

Part of the intoxication was the danger of the situation — you were the daughter of an Earl, a respectable lady of the Ton, and if you were discovered with Anthony Bridgerton’s hands and lips all over you, you would be ruined.

You broke the kiss, needing an influx of air or you would surely faint. Anthony rested his forehead against yours.

“I need you,” you breathed out, “Anthony, I need you.”

He ran a delicate finger down your chest, “Not here, dearest.”

“Then where? When?” You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you as you pressed your pliant body against his firm one.

He sighed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “If only I could whisk you away from here without drawing suspicion.”

An idea came to mind — it was risky, but if he agreed you could continue feeling like you were on fire, and oh, how you wanted to burn.

“Come to my home, tonight,” you whispered, gasping a little as his lips pressed against your neck, licking over your jeweled necklace. “There’s a trellis just under my window, you can climb right up.”

“You wish for me to defile you in your own bedroom?” Anthony growled against your neck, “Naughty girl.”

He agreed to the plan nonetheless, and you straightened yourself before heading back to your parents, claiming a headache and asking for the carriage.

“But dear, you haven’t danced with Lord Hollingsworth yet!” your Mama declared, having selected the oh-so-boring yet oh-so-available man as your best hope for marriage at the beginning of the season.

“Now, now Cecelia,” your Papa chimed in, “if the girl is unwell we shan’t force her to dance. I’ll call the carriage, dears, you two gather your things and say your goodbyes.” He nodded at you and ducked away, eager to get home as usual.

From across the ballroom, you caught Anthony’s eye and nodded slightly. He winked, sending the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. He was to give you ninety minutes to make sure your parents were asleep, then scale your trellis like a hero in a romantic novel.

Immediately upon your return home, you excused yourself upstairs. Your maid helped you undress, but you dismissed her quickly, claiming you could handle taking the pins out of your hair on your own. Over the next hour, you listened as your father retired to his study and your mother to her bedroom.

Once you were sure your parents were in for the night, you placed a candle in your window — his signal that the coast was clear. Unable to remain still, you started pacing your room. Would he show up or leave you twisting in the wind like this?

Only a few minutes of pacing later a knock came from your window. You dashed over, unlatching it and moving the candle for Anthony to pull himself up. He did so athletically, like letting a tiger into your bedroom. When he was inside, you closed the window and he was on you in a heartbeat, hot kisses along the back of your neck while his hands slid around your waist.

Your hand came up to grip the back of his head, your fingers lacing through his silken hair. You pressed back against him, turning your head to meet his lips with your own. He tasted like whiskey and sin. He spun you around in his grasp and tugged you close to him by your hips.

You gasped as you felt his cock pressing into your lower tummy — he was large. For a moment you hesitated, wondering how something so large would fit inside you, but Anthony’s insistent grip on your hips turned into him grabbing handfuls of your nightgown and pulling the cool silk up, up, up.

“You came,” you gasped breathlessly.

“You didn’t think I would? Tsk, tsk,” he joked, clicking his tongue at you. “My dear, now that I’ve had a taste, I cannot get enough.”

He emphasized his point by kissing your lips once again, licking his tongue into your mouth. You responded with a soft moan, which only seemed to spur him on.

Before you knew what was happening, Anthony had tossed you back onto your bed and was crawling over you, bringing the hem of your nightgown with him. Your breath hitched as you felt his warm, large fingers tracing trails of fire up your legs, teasing your wetness through your undergarments.

“May I taste you,” he asked, and you moaned your response which prompted him to stop his fingers only an inch from where you needed him most. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and whined. He rose to meet your lips with his. “I need you to remain quiet, otherwise I will stop. And we don’t want that, sweet one, do we?”

Anything. Anything he wanted as long as he kept touching you. When he saw you nod, he hooked a finger beneath your gusset and ripped it, baring your wetness to him. With eyes dark as obsidian in the light of the single candle burning, he gazed up at you with such heat as you had never known.

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, then licked a long stripe into you, sending a lightning bolt up your spine. His lips curled around your clit and you shuddered. A moan threatened to slip past your lips but you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop it. The noise was caught in your throat, fluttering like a canary in a cage.

Anthony hummed a, “good girl,” against you, making you clench around nothing.

You moved your hands, making an effort to keep your tone low, “More, please!”

You felt him smirk against you before he redoubled his efforts, this time breaching your entrance with a thick finger. Moaning at the intrusion, Anthony took this as an invitation to add another finger, stretching you deliciously.

You were close, so close, his fingers pumping and hitting a spot within you that you couldn’t reach, his tongue flicking against your clit. Each movement made the knot in your lower tummy tighten, threatening to snap at any moment.

“Anthony, please,” you whined, unable to control your volume.

He slowed his fingers and removed his mouth from you. “Quiet,” he hissed, “Or do you wish for your parents to find me here?”

Unconsciously, you clenched around his fingers. The danger of being caught added something you couldn’t name to the situation. Anthony smiled. “Mmm, does my sweet want to get caught?” He teased, and you clenched again, “I think she does. Such a wanton little strumpet, tempting me into a dark corner to kiss me, then inviting me to her bedchambers in the middle of the night, and squeezing my fingers at the thought of someone coming in…”

His words, said in his tantalizing baritone, were pushing you closer and closer to the edge. If only he would put his mouth to better use and—

As if reading your mind, his lips landed back on your clit and his fingers picked up their pace once more, again finding the spot within you that made you see stars with every pass.

You clamped your hands over your mouth again and moaned his name, which only spurred him on. He drove into you, his tongue and lips reciting an ode against you, dedicating it to you and your pleasure. Having the entire focus of this season’s most eligible bachelor was intoxicating to say the least — and inevitably what pushed you straight into your climax.

You writhed against him, held in place by his strong forearm as he worked you through your orgasm, the aftershocks lasting much longer than they normally did. Anthony remained between your legs and cleaned up every drop of your release before withdrawing.

The clock in the hall chimed thrice. Anthony joined you when you reached for him, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You let your hand drift to the front of his trousers, palming his length until he guided your wrist away.

“As much as I wish for it, I have an early appointment and must be on my way.”

You pouted up at him, but he placed a sweet kiss to your forehead before slipping off the end of your bed with a promise to see you again soon.

You watched as he made his way back down the trellis. When he got to the bottom, he blew you a kiss before disappearing into the dark Mayfair night.

The early appointment Anthony had, you would find out later, was to meet with your father. He asked for your hand that afternoon. And, knowing what awaited you in your marital bed, you happily said yes.

#writing challenge #in bloom #fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #smut #bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton smut

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obxone · 1 year

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More Than That

Edited-ish. ~650 words.

Your eyes widen as you step out of your bathroom to see your favorite blond troublemaker sitting on your window seat. He grins, flashing that perfect dimple.

“How did you get in here?” You ask, turning to look at your locked bedroom door.

“Climbed that wooden thing.”

“You climbed the trellis?”

“Yep." He grins. "Those thorns are sharp."

“JJ!” You admonish. “I’m on the third floor!”

“A real Princess in the tower,” he mumbles while crossing the room toward you. He is quick to grab your waist and haul you into his body once he is close enough. His face buries into your neck momentarily, allowing him to inhale the honeysuckle scent from your body wash. “You left without a goodbye.”

“I have to go see my Grams. We talked about this yesterday.”

He frowns before lowering his head. His nose brushes yours. “I should go then, huh?”

You nod, unable to speak as he stares at you. His gaze locked on your own. He frowns before taking a step back, but you go with him, the hold he has on you not releasing.

“JJ, I have to get ready.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. “Get ready, I’ll stay here.”

“JJ,” you warn, and he grins, his cockiness rising to the surface. “I have to get dressed.”

He looks down at the fluffy towel wrapped securely around you. His bottom lip caught between his teeth momentarily. His tone shifts as he speaks. “I’ll wait on the bed.” He jerks his chin towards your bed before leaning down so his face hovers above yours. “Or I can help.”

“That’s not funny,” you mumble, but he does not back down. Instead, he waits to see what you’ll do. “JJ…”

“Yes?”

You inhale sharply, hands on his chest. “I can’t… I don’t want you to be a rebound.”

“Then I won’t be,” he murmurs. His fingers slide through your damp hair. “I’m open to repeat visits.”

“The rule…”

He shakes his head. “Stays between us.”

“Fuck buddies? That is your suggestion?” You ask, embarrassment flooding you at what he is suggesting. You start to pull away, your heart aching at JJ’s implied intentions. “No, I’m not a toy.”

His smirk drops, his ego disappearing as he stares at you hard. “I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it. You are just like all the others.”

“What others?!” His tone shifts to one of anger. “Who did that to you?”

“Avery tried to and there was another guy. Shep. He did.”

JJ moves back to you, pulling you into his chest. His arms fold around you tightly. “I don’t want that from you.”

“Then what do you want?!” You raise your voice, hands gripping the back of his shirt as you stare up at him. “I can’t do games anymore JJ.”

“No games,” he shakes his head, his blue eyes searching yours. “Just us. You and me.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.” He murmurs faintly, before he leans down, his lips sealing to yours. You kiss him back, your hands in his hair as he grips your waist, pulling you completely against him. His tongue explores your mouth, and you moan, nails scratching his scalp before you part, and he smirks.

“Definitely not fuck buddies.”

You laugh a little before glancing at the clock on your nightstand. “I have to go see Grams, but I’ll be back later. Do you…”

“I’ll come back. Keep the window unlocked,” he says, holding your chin between his fingers before pecking your lips. “See you tonight, Baby.”

“Or you could try the door…”

“Nah,” he shakes his head as he heads for your window, kicking his leg out and straddling the window frame. “There is no fun in that.”

You laugh, shaking your head at his goofiness before he winks and disappears out of sight moments later.

#outer banks #obx #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader

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the-californicationist · 3 months

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Good Fences (Fluffuary #06)

FEB06: Acts of Devotion

You awoke the next morning to a loud banging outside your window. It was early enough that your alarm still hadn’t gone off. At first, you were scared, but when you glanced outside and saw the broad, strong back of your handsome neighbor, you were pleasantly surprised.

John was wearing suede working gloves with no shirt, wielding a hammer, and building something against the shared wall of your apartments. You slid the door ajar and wrapped your blanket around your shoulders to preserve what little modesty you had left for this man.

“John?”

“Oh, sorry, love. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he smiled and began to affix another piece of wood to his creation.

“What is this?”

“You were talkin’ about your tomatoes,” he said, not pausing his work, “Needin’ a trellis, innit that right?”

“Wow,” you took another look at his work and put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. You needed him to hear your gratitude, “John, this is so kind of you. Thank you.”

He towered over you on the porch, and you realized how close you had been standing to him. John was looking down into your face, taking in your words, wrapping them up in his mind and saving them for later.

He took a gloved hand and tilted your chin up just a bit, as if he might kiss you. You spent ages there, locked in his gaze, breathing the same air, feeling the wind on your cheek and his strong finger on your jaw. But, at the last moment, he turned away, going back to his work.

You spent the better part of the day working. There were two students who really needed support, and you wanted to do your best for them. You were worn out, and as the afternoon faded away to the evening time, you’d forgotten that you had promised you’d make dinner tonight for John. It was a Wednesday, and those were always your days for dinner.

When he showed up with a whiskey and a wine, you nearly burst into tears. You held it together, but barely.

“John, today was an absolute shit show. I haven’t even had time to breathe, much less do dinner. And after you built my trellis for me; I feel terrible for letting you down. Can you please forgive me?”

“Don’t worry, love. I saw you workin’ while I was cleanin’ up outside, and I called Antonio’s an hour ago. Check the bag.”

He set all of his gifts down on your counter for you to inspect. You peered inside and saw what he had done.

“Oh, my God,” you opened the bag he’d brought and there were two warm pasta carbonara dishes waiting for you. Breadsticks included. “John, you didn’t.”

“You’re busy savin’ the world, love. Feels good to be able to do somethin’ nice for you, if you’ll let me. I know I’m your neighbor, and I know that makes things complicated… but, I like you. And I like spending my time on you. Is that alright?”

You stepped into his space, just as you’d been standing on the porch, and you felt his heavy hands wrap around your waist, cradling you in his strong arms. Then, he cupped your cheek with a warm palm, holding your face up to his. His voice was a ragged whisper,

“If it’s not alright, you’ve gotta tell me now. ‘Cause I can’t stop thinkin’ about you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, crashing your lips against his. You felt him react almost immediately, smiling against your mouth, kissing you back. You felt his tongue slide against yours, opening you up to him, tasting you and holding you tightly.

He only pulled away when you did. Smiling with you, and laughing a bit to himself,

“Bloody hell, I’ve been waiting for that, love.”

“Me, too,” you confessed.

You were determined to show John how you truly felt about him, so the next day, you knocked on his door, packed and ready to take him on a whole slew of adventures just for him. You’d bought tickets to the local soccer match, and you’d booked an evening at a cigar bar downtown. You’d even planned a small picnic for lunch, but when he opened the door, you felt a lump in your throat. Something wasn’t right.

He was on the phone, and he held a finger to his lips, asking you for silence as you came into his apartment. You shut the door behind you as quietly as you could and sat with him on his couch. He was answering questions in yes and no statements, and you could tell he wanted to fill you in, so you waited patiently.

Then, he hung up, and he threw his phone down on the coffee table with a loud thud.

“Bad news, love.”

“What is it? Are you alright?”

He took your hands in his and sighed,

“I’ll be overseas for… work. But, I’ll be back here the moment it’s done.”

“Overseas? For how long?” You put your hands on his cheeks, studying his blue eyes for some answers.

He smiled, but it was a sad one,

“A while.”

When he kissed you this time, it felt like goodbye, and you prayed that it wasn’t.

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

#the californicationist does fluff #fluffuary 2024 #fluffuary #john price fluff #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod #cod fanfiction #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mwii

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huramuna · 4 months

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beware the sapphire peak - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

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wordcount: 2.6k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series. (this will likely be about 3 parts)

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: smut, angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is (it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory

to death we dance - salem's heir • the flower duet - sabine devieilhe & marianne crebassa

“You were nearly late, miss,” one of the butlers murmured in your ear. “The music’s just started.”

“There is a quote about being fashionably late, isn’t there?” you mused, taking his gloved hand as he helped you up the steps.

It was a banquet for your father’s business, a celebration of having struck gold (oil) and turning a huge profit. Or, in your words, an excuse for the high and mighty to get plastered and dance the night away. Your fist clenched upon the train of your dress– a lovely evening gown in eggshell white, with hand embroidered lilacs and lavender petals on it, spindling up your bodice like a trellis. Your usually somewhat unruly hair was tamed into a braided and pinned up-do, with an expensive broach poked into the bun of hair in the shape of a falling wisteria branch.

Your father was the first to greet you, peeling away from the gaggle of portly oil barons. He kissed your cheek. “You look lovely tonight, my dear. A vision in purple, I must say.”

You smiled back at him. “Yes, well, you all but wringed my arm to get me to attend– and you shall hold up your end of the bargain… right?” you hummed softly, batting your eyelashes.

He let out a small sigh, nodding. “I will send your manuscript to the publisher– the editor in chief is here tonight, if you’d care to mingle. Amongst… many other eligible bachelors, I might add.”

Your father had spent the better part of the last three years gently trying to pair you up with a suitor for marriage. He was a patient man, as he had droned on about so many times before, but his patience was waning. You were twenty-one years old, and apparently, that was a ghastly sight– to be twenty-one and unmarried with no promising prospects.

Of course, you couldn’t care less. You were more focused on finishing your manuscript in that time– you had a knack for writing and reveled in works of fiction that tended to lean to the darker sides of things. It had finally reached a point you were somewhat happy with, and had convinced your father to chat up his well connected colleagues so you may be able to send the first draft to a publisher.

The price for that, however, was to entertain suitors. At a gala. Dressed and primped like a Thanksgiving turkey. It was all so dreary to you– the ladies stared at you and whispered, citing you as the dreary one.

Breaking away from your father with a tiny smile, you began to mingle– as well as you could, anyhow. You were awkward and a bit sheltered and it showed. However, once you said who your father was, dollar signs would flash in the eyes of the men you were speaking with, and they would push forward in the conversation. You weren’t ugly by any means and could become a good wife to some young entrepreneur– but you didn’t want that.

You were about fed up with it all three hours later, your nails clinking against the glass of champagne you were nursing for the better part of thirty minutes. Your look of slight annoyance managed to stave off any other wanton suitors– until another man approached you. You had exchanged some glances with him during the night, but you didn’t recognize him. He was tall, exceedingly taller than any of the other men there. His blonde hair, so pale it was almost white in hue, was cinched at the nape of his neck in a clean ponytail, falling between his shoulder blades. He was in a custom-fitted three piece black and green suit– you could tell from how perfectly it was hugging him, in all the right places.

A familiar heat came to your cheeks as you watched him saunter over to you with an intent in his pale blue eyes– eye? One of them, you noted as he came closer, was slightly off-color from the other and moved a bit slower. Likely fake, you thought. The light casted over the planes of his face, chiseled as it was, illuminating the slightly raised, puckered skin near the fake eye in a distinctual scar. He looked just like the perfect inspiration for a protagonist in one of your novels– or mayhaps an antagonist. He seemed to skim the line between the two in appearance alone.

Curious.

“My lady,” he greeted as he finally broke the air of silence between you, his arms placed behind him in a very calculated manner. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” he asked then, a brow perked. His accent wasn’t American– that you knew for certain– likely something European.

“As much as I can, sir,” you responded coolly, despite being caught slightly off guard by his sudden and overwhelming presence– a dark cloud in a perfectly tailored suit. “I hope that the…” you cleared your throat, trying to sound a little more confident than you likely were. “The… event is to your liking.” you mustered a smile, diverting your gaze to your champagne, hoping there may be the secrets to being a good conversationalist somewhere within the bubbles.

He chuckled, the sound low and husky. It caused a shiver to go up your spine. “The event is well and fine, my lady. Are you… the proprietor of the gala tonight? I wouldn’t expect a beautiful thing such as yourself to plan something like this.”

You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. He was complimenting you and insulting the party at the same time. “No– I am not. I’d never choose such… dreary musicians for an event like this. They’re playing for a wake rather than a party– that would be my father’s doing.” you slipped it into the conversation, that this was your father’s party, trying to gauge if this handsome stranger was after what all of the others were.

Surprisingly, his expression, smooth and cool with the barest hint of a smile perking at his naturally upturned lips, didn’t change. “Dreary,” he repeated, “Melancholic, gloomy, monotonous, vapid– all good words to describe the state of affairs.”

“You have quite the expansive vocabulary, Mister…” your voice trailed off, an inadvertent way to ask for his name.

“Targaryen– Aemond Targaryen. And you?” he reached his hand out to shake yours – how incredibly formal– as you returned your own name with a wide-eyed stare.

“Targaryen. As in… the ancient bloodline? Descended from dragons, close to royalty, Dragonstone estate Targaryen?” you asked, mouth slightly agape. From what you knew of them, they were as close to the height of English royalty, real royalty, as there was in the current year, 1902. Their wealth alone, minus all of the titles, made your father’s look like a pissant trust fund.

“The very same. You’re familiar with my family?”

“Ehm– familiar, more so I’ve heard of you all. Your family’s name comes up quite often in my father’s social circles. And I am quite nosy.”

“And what do you think?”

“About… your family? Mr. Targaryen–”

“Call me Aemond.”

“Aemond– I don’t really know much besides the height of your prestige– and your family’s estate, Dragonstone. My father brought me back some photographs of it from his trips over the pond. It’s quite beautiful.”

“Your father brought you pictures of our home?”

“N-not just yours! I collect photographs of old estates, mostly ones from Europe. I like to use them for inspiration for my… stories. I’m a writer– a novice, mostly.”

“A writer? Have you published anything I might know?”

“Oh, God no–” you laughed, covering your face slightly with your hand. “I’ve not yet been published. I actually sent my manuscript to… or will be sending one to a publisher soon. Hopefully.”

“What do you like to write?” he asked then, leaning a bit closer to you as if he was actually enjoying conversing with you. “Romance? Children’s fables?” he teased softly, his one eye gleaming. He was quite handsome, you thought.

“I like horror– mysteries, gothic fiction. I’m quite enamored with the… macabre and weird,” you admit. “I hope that doesn’t frighten you.”

Aemond grinned, his teeth shining, canines pronounced against his thin lips. “Oh, yes, it does frighten me. But, all good horror stories should frighten their readers, yes? I expect you’re a fan of Vampyre? Perhaps Dracula?”

“Both are good. My favorite, however, is Frankenstein. Mary Shelley is a genius. The Castle of Otranto is also wonderful and the pioneer of the genre. I remember trying to read it when I was younger and being scared of the dark hallways at night. Later on in life, those dark hallways enthused me enough to write about them– hence my… fascination with old houses.”

“Old homes certainly do have their fair share of secrets, don’t they?” he paused, straightening his lapel slightly before leaning back in towards you. “And do you believe what they say? That Mary’s husband wrote it and published it under her name?”

Your brows knit together in slight irritation. “Of course not. Why would he need to do such a thing? I hope you don’t mind me saying, but men already have enough advantages as is– publishing under a woman’s name instead might be considered a disadvantage.”

“Will you be publishing under your own name?”

You blinked, taking a sip from your champagne. It was something you considered and went back and forth upon. “I haven’t decided. I have a pseudonym ready just in case.”

“Do tell– so I know what name to look for on the shelves within a year.”

God, was he ever charming– and without even trying, really. He was well-spoken with a voice that was soft and almost whispery. It made butterflies bubble in the pit of your stomach– now that was a feeling you weren’t familiar with. “Dorian Gray.”

“Cheeky woman.” he mused. “Fancy a dance, Miss Gray?”

“... I suppose I could be swayed.”

–

Your dance together, to say the least, was a success– it started month’s worth of courting after. Aemond took you on the most splendid nights out, wining and dining you like you were a gorgeous, interesting debutante. It was exhilarating to say the least and made you feel… truly wanted– especially since his family was exceedingly wealthy, your father’s wealth couldn’t have attracted him.

He took you to the theater, out to wondrous restaurants, and bought you various gifts like jewelry, writing supplies and outfits to wear when you went out.

It all felt very much like a dream to you– something beyond your usual, weary routine that had hardly ever changed since your mother died when you were eight years old. You’d recused into yourself then, the dark hallways that scared you so fiercely just before her death now seemed welcoming. You thrived in the dark, like a moth.

But now, you felt something more akin to a butterfly, bathing in the sun’s light.

It wasn’t a great surprise when Aemond asked your father for his blessing to marry you. Your father, who had harped you for years to get married, was suddenly apprehensive.

He pulled you aside, arm around you. “Do you like this boy, dear?”

“Y-yes, father– very much so.”

“I’ll be honest, sweetheart. I’m not exactly keen on letting my only daughter go off with… some man–”

“He isn’t just some man, father! He’s a Targ–”

“Don’t interrupt,” he chastised firmly. “I’ve had my people look into his family further– it’s a whole mess, issues with succession, backstabbing, incest, the whole nine yards,” he took a measured breath. “But I’ve heard nothing but good things about… Aemond. But… you’d be so far away. You’d be off living in the annals of England, a whole boat’s ride away.”

“This is what you wanted, father! For me to marry, for me to be happy! This is the happiest I’ve been in… so long. You must see that?”

The creases in your father’s forehead relaxed as he regarded you for a long moment, before turning to Aemond, who was waiting patiently off to the side. He let go of your shoulder and walked to your beau, staring at him sternly. “Will you treat her right? Give her everything she deserves and more?”

Aemond perked up slightly, rubbing the side of his forefinger with his thumb in a seemingly nervous gesture. “Of course, sir. I’ll give her everything I have and more. She will be regarded as a Lady– the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall, and she wouldn’t be treated with any less respect than a Lady deserves.”

Your father’s gaze narrowed, taking it all into careful thought. “... very well. You have my blessing, son. But, one whiff of even a tear from her eye on your account, and your nads are forfeit. I may not be as well-off as your family, but I’ve got a lot of friends in a lot of places.”

–

The marriage was a quick affair, as your father, and now Aemond, knew you had no patience for pomp and frills. Aemond gave you a beautiful ring with an absolutely gigantic sapphire inlaid in the center, citing it as a family heirloom from centuries past. Your father saw you off onto the boat, bawling his eyes out. You’d never seen your father cry– not once.

As husband and wife, you both agreed to wait to celebrate your wedding night until you arrived in England at his family’s estate to your marital bed.

The trip overall was a little under a week’s time upon a luxurious liner, where you both enjoyed champagne and each other’s company. You craved your husband, and he craved you in the same, but you each wished to keep your agreement intact. But it was increasingly hard, as you held one another close each night and his need for you was clearly pressed to your lower back.

Dragonstone Hall was a few hours' carriage ride north of the port and was nestled upon a high-ridged cliff. It was as gorgeous as the pictures had depicted, even moreso. It was ancient, imposing against the skyline and mingling to the clouds, where sea birds and ravens alike swirled above the towering watch towers that were supported by stone walls with vines grasping to them like lifelines.

It was gorgeous, gothic and most definitely haunted– a perfect place for a woman of horror such as yourself.

Aemond helped you out of the carriage, a hand placed upon your waist as he guided you beyond the gates. Your eyes were wide with wonder, taking in the scenery like a breath of fresh air. Tears threatened to spill over suddenly, as you were just overwhelmed with everything going on. You were married to someone you loved, who loved you– and were the Lady Targaryen of Dragonstone Hall.

“Something wrong, my love?” Aemond whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your lobe.

“N-no– I’m just… very happy.”

He wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, clearing your vision. You glanced up at one of the windows on the third story of the castle. Someone was staring back at you.

A lady. Her hair was red, her skin almost translucent.

You must’ve been imagining it, surely. Looking to another window, another visage appeared.

Another– this time with dirty blonde hair, her blue eyes ghastly and bloodshot. She was practically see through.

You pressed closer to Aemond, blinking profusely– it must’ve been the exhaustion from the nights on the boat catching up to you. Once you rubbed your eyes, you looked back; the figures were gone.

As you approached the main door of the estate, another face caught your eye.

Another woman– with dark hair and sullen, emerald eyes. They pierced through you like two heavy jewels, making goosebumps prickle atop your arms. She wasn’t ghastly or undeathly like the other two, and when you rubbed your eyes, she was still there.

She was still there, very much a living person in the flesh, with flowing blood and a beating heart. And she was beautiful.

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #beware the sapphire peak #alysmond #alys rivers #alys rivers x aemond #alys rivers x reader #alys rivers x reader x aemond targaryen

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tinfairies · 2 years

Note

Well first of all I hope you are having a good day/night and secondly what do you think of yandere's reaction Aegon* Aemond* Daemon* (separated) let's pretend that his wife (reader) noticed his unhealthy tendencies and decided escape from them to another kingdom and they search for her a year passes and they finally find her and see that she has a baby with white hair and violet eyes (obviously her son) because she ran away when she was pregnant. sorry if this is too long :( but i wanted to make it as understandable as possible :) i love your writing it's fantastic. take care of yourself.

When you first married Aemond, you had just thought he was an overprotective husband. You didn't mind, you thought it was endearing how devoted he was to you.

Soon as the months went by, you noticed your freedoms being taken. You could no longer go to the gardens alone, or the library. It came to the point where you couldn't even see Helaena without permission.

You knew you had to get out.

When Aemond was called for a political meeting in Oldtown, you knew it was your time to strike.

Late at night, after he had been gone for hours, halfway to Oldtown you assumed. You opened the windows to your room. Looking down at the ground below.

You swallowed hard, and began climbing down the trellis. Your feet hit the ground, you were nearly free.

You pulled your hood over your head, and made your way out of the Keep, through King's Landing, and onto a boat bound for Pentos.

Aemond received a letter from a raven the next morning. His wife was nowhere to be found. He immediately made his way back to the Keep.

He practically turned the city on its head looking for her. Thousands of people were questioned, and yet no one had an answer for him.

Soon news of an actress that had just given birth to a strange child floated across the sea.

Aemond was never one for gossip, but when he heard the child had silver hair and violet eyes, he immediately boarded a boat.

Tearing through Pentos he had finally found you. Living in a caravan with carnies, actors and fortune tellers.

He was pissed, but he melted as soon as he saw the baby. Aemond dropped to his knees before you.

"Please my love. Come back to me."

Aegon was a difficult husband, he tried to care but it was hard for him. He was always spending nights in brothels and other women's beds.

He never changed his lifestyle after marriage. But you were expected to be a doting wife.

He had eyes on you at all times, sure you had everything you could ever want. Except a door. He kept you in his chambers at all hours of the day, guards placed in front of the door.

He would take you out when he wanted to flaunt you, but then put you back in your cage when he was done.

You had come up with a plan to gain your freedom. Subtly asking for different herbs throughout the week.

You slowly made a tea that would put someone to sleep. You knocked on the door, and the guard opened it. He looked at you curiously.

"The maid brought two cups of tea but Aegon is not here. Would you want the extra cup?"

The guard kindly accepted. Minutes later you heard the clatter of armor in the hall.

Wrapped in a cloak you stepped into the hallway. You carefully made your way out of the castle, and fled north.

You found a home in Winterfell as a maid. It wasn't as luxurious as the Red Keep. But you could breath.

Nearly a year later, you bore a son. Silver hair and purple eyes, just like his father.

The other servants at Winterfell whispered rumors and they circled their way back to King's Landing.

The queen had gone missing a year before, and now a maid has given birth to a child that resembles a Targaryen.

Aegon sent nearly a whole army to retrieve this maid with the odd child. The lords of Winterfell handed you over easily, not wanting conflict.

You were soon brought to the steps of the Iron Throne, clutching your son to your chest.

"Who are you to keep me from my heir?"

Daemon was always possesive, even before marriage. He was always by your side. You didn't mind, you loved the attention the handsome man gave you.

But now, months into the marriage, it was tiring. You wanted time to yourself, to walk around Dragonstone without Daemon or his guards.

You had always heard of the three feral dragons that lived near the castle. All three were mean, vicious beasts.

But maybe they could be your escape.

One night, you had managed to sneak out of your and Daemon's bed. You pattered quietly through the halls, careful to not be seen.

Making your way to the forest behind the castle. You were on edge, the dragons could be anywhere in this great wood.

Luckily for you, as you traversed through the trees, Sheepstealer spotted you. The great dragon placed itself in front of you threateningly.

It took everything within you to not scream.

The dragon studied you, and moved closer. He sniffed your belly and made a purring sound. The dragon then leaned down, in a submissive way.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you got closer the feral dragon. He grumbles when you touched him, but didn't move.

You slowly climbed on top of his back. The dragon shifted, never having had a rider.

"Take me away from here."

Sheepstealer obeyed, the dragon flew you to Dorne. You manged to find a shack in a small village, trading shelter for work.

You expected the dragon to leave you, but Sheepstealer stayed by your side. The people of the village were absolutely terrified, but the creature never ate anything but sheep. He could stay they supposed.

Daemon searched high and low for you all across Westeros and even into Essos, it did not slip his mind that he had not seen Sheepstealer stalking the woods after your disappearance.

Soon rumors of a lady with a dragon, and a Targaryen son made their way across the Sea of Dorne.

Daemon immediately knew, of course that's how you were able to mount Sheepstealer.

He made his way to Dorne, tracking down from city to village. He soon found you, sitting at the edge of a creek. Sheepstealer was curled around your body as you nursed your son.

The dragon growled as he saw Daemon approach. Your husband immediately knelt before you.

"My love, please come home to me."

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elsewhereuniversity · 5 months

Note

I made a mistake...?

I'm not sure how scrying mirrors work so I'll say this as quickly as I can.

Last Friday I was challenged to a drinking contest by a stranger in a bar, and woke up after the weekend in the arms of a sleeping Fae Lord with a golden torc around my neck. I have no recollection of what happened at all. Though I'm positive the man I woke up next to was equally, if not more drunk than I was, since his face is still reder than cherries.

I'm in a room larger than my entire house filled with wonders and treasures, and I'm dressed in finer clothes than I'm sure most nobles have ever worn in history.

I think I got married in my drunken state, and I've no idea how this happened, where I am, or what I should do now!

I am a very weak willed man and my new husband(?) is incredibly tall, fantastically handsome, and horrifically horny! Not in that way, I'm too scared to peek! I mean he has elk antlers and ram horns that are huge and very pointy!

I REALLY wanna see where this goes but my common sense is screaming at the back of my mind like a tornado siren and I need advice real quick before he wakes up! Should I get it off here or should I stay and see where this takes me?

~Grace

Elk antlers AND ram horns is very horny indeed. Man's not got room on his skull for features. It's a miracle you didn't take an eye out while you were sleeping.

Look, you could flee through the window - he has a helpful trellis blooming with violet clematis which you could scramble down. if you want to be coy about it you could leave something at his place so he has something to find you with later, Cinderella style. Or... you can wait to see what happens if he wakes up. If he's as drunk as you were, this might seem just as much a problem to him, and waking up married to someone who has already fled in horror will surely be a cruel blow. Perhaps sober you can figure things out together.

What's guaranteed, though, is that you've caused a lot of political drama. However things do shake out, some scorned suitor of his is almost certainly going to try and poison you at the next event you attend, whether or not you break things off. So, you know. Watch out for that.

#vignettes #romance

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cottonlemonade · 5 days

Text

A Simpler Life [Part 3]

word count: 2296 || avg. reading time: 10 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, neighbors to lovers

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: In pursuit of a calmer, simpler life you flee the city to move to the countryside - only to fall in love with your neighbor.

[part 1] [part 2]

____________________________________________

The next day you waited in the front yard for him on his way home and invited him for dinner again. And the day after that. And after that. Before long, you offered a standing dinner invitation and he happily accepted.

Now, Kita’s steps quickened when he called it a day. It became rarer that he stayed until sundown to maybe do something that could be easily taken care of tomorrow. Having dinner with you every night was almost as if … almost like… coming home to you. The first thing he did when he stepped through your gate was go check on your plants. The tomatoes were doing really well and your radishes, while a bit on the puny side, also weren't too shabby. He wound a few of the newly formed pea vines around the trellis, then went to knock on your door.

A wonderful smell wafted in his nose but his heart only jumped when he saw you. You were setting the table, an apron around your plump hips, your hair tied up to a bun. It took every ounce of self control he had not to greet you with “I‘m home“. But maybe you‘d find it funny if he did? He tucked the thought away for later. Right now he dusted off his clothes, took off his shoes and stepped inside.

With the rainy season came a new routine for Kita. He loved this time of year because his fields thrived in this weather and it was fun for him to go check on their growth every other day when there was a break from the downpour. While the rain splattered loudly on the roofs and puddle-strewn streets, he stayed inside, doing the paperwork that came with farming, going over numbers and making phone calls to ensure the supply chain was in order once it was time to harvest mid fall. Before, he would have used the remaining time in his days to read or do some maintenance around his home, fixing little things he noticed or building a new piece of sturdy furniture to then deliver to his grandmother in the little hamlet he grew up in 40 minutes away. And while he did do all those things, he made very sure to keep aside more time for you as well. You met up in town for a cup of tea or to go to the grocery store together or drove to a neighboring town for a famous fish market he had told you about, eating your fill of gorgeously fresh sashimi and having a drink under the beautiful traditional awnings of the shops while looking out onto the stormy waves of the ocean. You never called it a date. You always made sure to refer to it as an “outing” and while he was glad to spend time with you, no matter what it was called, he couldn’t help but deflate a little whenever you clarified it to the people in your town who had gotten curious and suspicious about how often you two were spotted together. “Our Kita never spends this much time with anyone, let alone a pretty thing like ya. Ya should pay Yumie a visit soon, I reckon.”, one of the grandmothers had noted the other day and Kita had vehemently shaken his head behind your back to make her stop. The last thing he needed was word getting back to his grandma. She would want to meddle or as she would put it “help”. She would probably invite you over for dinner and ask all kinds of embarrassing questions, strongly hinting at the fact that she wasn’t getting any younger and Kita should hurry up and give her a pretty wedding and plenty of great-grandchildren. It wouldn’t matter that her grandson hadn’t made any romantic advances to you yet or that you perhaps didn’t even see children in your future. In all honesty, Kita would be happy with whatever you wanted. You would want children? Alright, he could get started on that straight away as far as he was concerned. You would want to spend your days with him alone and get those little goats you were gushing over the other day? He would gladly comply and build their enclosure as soon as you’d say the word. But as much as he was yours, you weren’t his. He was accompanying you on outings and although you were incredibly sweet and initiated contact often, he had learned that this was just the way you were. And he was foolish to read anything else into it.

He almost didn‘t hear the knock over the rain. It was early in the morning and he sat on his couch with a cup of tea and a book but looked up when he heard your voice calling his name.

Opening the door he came face to face with a pitiful pout.

“My home flooded.“, you announced.

“What?“

“Apparently the roof isn‘t roofing as it should and now there is a huge puddle in my living room.“

A few minutes later he stood in your doorway, marveling at the myriad of blankets and towels laid out on the floor while in the middle of the room a big flower printed bucket was steadily filling up with water trickling in from the ceiling.

He would have a word with the town‘s realtor later for selling you a house that was anything less than perfect.

“Once the rain calms down a little I’ll have a look at it. Weather report said it should be dry in the afternoon.”

You threw him a hopeful smile.

“Really? Thank you so much! Can I make you lunch in return?”

He shook his head and upon seeing your face falter he immediately followed it with, “Ya’ve been cooking for me for weeks. Lemme do it for once.”

Personally, you thought you deserved an award for not drooling all over Kita‘s kitchen table. Seeing him shake out his wet hair when he returned from a quick run to the greenhouse for some fresh veggies was already testing you but now he was preparing said fresh veggies to turn into omurice and you were just about ready to lose your mind. There was something so wonderfully cozy and domestic about seeing this man prepare his produce with a little unconscious smile on his lips. His shoulders, broadened by the field work, moved smoothly as he fried the rice and you didn‘t hear him at first when he asked you a question, because your thoughts were somewhere else entirely. The meal immediately turned into your new favorite dish and his cheeks blushed when you couldn’t stop gushing about how good his rice tasted. You learned a while ago that it was a big source of pride for him when people complimented his produce, so you made sure to do it whenever possible, suppressing all the squeaks rising in your throat when you saw him turn shy. As you two enjoyed lunch, he requested more stories about your traveling and how you came to Japan, listening intently and asking for more details here and there. Laying a hand on your well-filled tummy you leaned back and let your eyes wander through his pristine home and out the open window, watching the continuous streams of collected rain drizzling from the shingles of the porch awning. Your eyes fell onto the little open shed next to his gate and the curled up form of his dog lazing around underneath.

“Shouldn’t we let him in?”, you asked and Kita followed your gaze.

“Hm? Why? Roku is a guard dog. He lives outside.”

“But… it’s wet outside.”, you mumbled.

“It’s nice in the hay, I promise.”

“Hm…”

“Don’t worry, he is doing well. If he’d be in here he couldn’t do his job properly to guard ya.”

Using his chopsticks, Kita placed a red bean mochi for dessert on a small plate with more fresh strawberries and handed it to you. You accepted and chewed the sweet treat thoughtfully, still looking outside, unaware of his adoring smile.

The rain did let up in the afternoon just as predicted and together you carried a ladder and some supplies over to your house. You insisted on helping and although you couldn‘t do much to assist, you noted that you could still cheer him on and make sure the ladder didn‘t fall.

Moving slowly on the wet roof he went to work. The leak was fortunately nothing major and it didn‘t take long to fix. On his way back to the ladder however -

He drew in a sharp breath when he felt a muscle pull in his shoulder.

“Oh my gosh, are you alright?“, he heard you call from the ground.

“Yeah. Just slipped.“

Kita almost missed a step on his way down when he suddenly felt your hand supporting his back. He was really trying not to enjoy you fussing over him but when you led him inside and ordered him to sit on your couch while you prepared an ice pack, he couldn‘t help but play it up eeever so slightly. And then regretted it instantly when you offered to apply a muscle relaxant balm. Ears and cheeks burning, stomach stirring, skin tingling and thoughts racing, Kita focused on a wood knot on your floor, telling himself to calm down as you rubbed the balm onto his shoulder.

With the start of the new week he was once again busy with errands in town and the city and only got to see you for your daily dinner - by now his favorite part of the day. When he got home on Friday night, he was surprised that Roku didn‘t come to greet him as he stepped out of his car. Kita looked around and found the black and white dog snuggled in the open shed in his usual space but now lounging luxuriously on a very plush dark blue pillow. He sighed as he knelt down to pet the soft floppy ears, Roku blinking sleepily up at him but not moving from his new bed.

It looked like you made it yourself, it even had the dog’s name embroidered on the side.

“She really spoils us both, hm?“, Kita muttered and Roku grumbled in agreement.

And so, with another sigh, he decided to confess to you. Soon. Even if just for his own peace of mind.

Once you had left after dinner and he was alone with his thoughts, Kita tried to focus on his book but his mind kept wandering. He had never confessed to anyone before. Quite honestly, as much as his grandmother would have been disappointed, he had been fully prepared to be alone for the rest of his days. He never would have guessed that a gorgeous foreigner from the city would take up residence in his heart. You reminded him of the little wild tulips that dotted the fields with white each new spring. They had always been his favorite because although maybe unassuming and almost delicate at first glance, when you looked closer they were resilient and just… beautiful. He should probably write you a letter to let him choose his words carefully. Yes. And he’d deliver the letter to your doorstep to then patiently wait for your response.

“Did ya already get this one?“, you asked. Deciding to use the break in between downpours Kita had suggested to do some pruning in your veggie patch. The soil was soaked and muddy but the stone plates he had laid down a few weeks ago kept both of you from sinking in.

He smiled and nodded, working on the tomato plants while you went over to trim the superfluous sprouts from the bell peppers. He noticed some days ago that you had started to use his dialect in a few words here and there and every time it happened, his stomach did a little somersault.

“Thank you, by the way. For everything else, too.“, you said suddenly. He looked at you for a moment before continuing his task.

“Don‘t worry about it. It‘s not a big deal.“

“I don‘t just mean the pruning. I mean everything. It‘s a huge deal!“, you exclaimed, “You helped me with my garden, I don‘t know what you did to that realtor but I got compensation for the leaky roof and a whole handwritten apology letter. You give me advice, share your phenomenal produce for free, built me a planter, fixed my roof“, you gave a nervous chuckle while he blushed at the list of your appreciation, “and you mean to tell me none of that is a big deal?“

“Because they‘re only natural when ya love someone.“, he shrugged and froze a moment later mid-snip when he realized what he had just said.

“What?“

“I…“

“You… you love me?“

He took a deep silent breath. “Well… yeah.“, he then said in a tone as if confirming the sky was blue, “I thought it was rather obvious.“

When you didn‘t respond, he went back to pruning, trying to exude his usual air of calm but his heart pounded in his chest. There it was. And you didn‘t say anything. So you didn‘t feel the same after all. But at least it was out now. He examined the leaf of a momotaro tomato when he felt your hand on his cheek, turning his head to you. His eyes widened when your lips touched his. Short at first. You looked at him, probably waiting for a reaction, then leaned in again.

Kita squeezed his eyes shut to drown out the rushing sound in his ears. With trembling hands he needed two attempts to get the gloves off his hands so he could cup your cheeks and pull you closer.

____________________________________________

a/n: This is truly everything I love 😌 I loved writing it! The next part will be spicy so if you’d rather keep this story sfw this is where is “important” plot ends 🌟

art: coloring done by @keiko-chan

[part 4]

#kita x chubby reader #kita shinsuke x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #kita shinsuke x y/n #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu kita #kita shinsuke #kita fluff #hq kita #kita x reader

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 9 days

Text

Never Say Never

Chapter 20

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 3.5K

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

Two Years Later

Indianapolis in the summer was hot and humid. You tugged at the cotton of your shirt, pulling the material away from your wet, sticky body. All you wanted right now was to lie on your couch, your feet propped up, enjoying the air conditioning and an iced coffee. But coffee was limited to you these days and decaf just didn’t bring the same joy. What was the point? And no matter what anyone said, it did not taste the same.

The bookstore was packed with people, the air conditioner not doing much amidst the radiating body heat of the crowd, books cradled in their arms, waiting to meet the author. Mike sat at a table in the center, smiling up at a customer as he signed the copy of his latest book, Paladin of the Dead Kingdom, a sequel to his debut novel which had raced up the charts to number one on the New York Times bestseller list, shocking everyone but probably him mostly.

Releasing a long slow breath, you pressed your hand against the base of your back in an attempt to soothe the ache that had settled low in your spine. Rolling your shoulders, you moved forward, continuing to browse the selection of books on the shelf in front of you. With as much time as you'd been spending with your feet up every night, you'd been getting a lot of reading done. A few new additions to your quickly dwindling pile would be good.

Your fingers trailed over the spines as you read, waiting for something to catch your eye, the sun shining in the window hitting the diamond on your left hand with a shimmering sparkle. A soft smile crossed your lips as you flashed back to last year, you and Steve under a trellis of flowers that the girls had put together in your backyard.

It had been a small ceremony, held on the anniversary of the day you had met each other the previous year. Your closest family and friends had gathered around as you vowed to love each other until death parted you. A slight twinge of panic had raced up your spine at those words but you had pushed it down, refusing to believe that life could be that cruel twice. No. You had been lucky enough to find him and you would be allowed to keep him. You had to believe that.

Everything with the two of you had moved pretty fast. You'd bought your house, with the wraparound porch you’d always dreamed of and the pool in the backyard that you couldn’t get the boys out of during the summer, only a few months after meeting. Steve had proposed two months after that. Seven months later you were married. From first sighting to wedding rings in the span of a year but you wouldn’t change a single thing. It didn’t matter how quickly it moved when you were certain you’d found the one that was meant for you.

“Mike is eating all this attention up,” El groaned, approaching with little Max on her hip. He’d just turned one last week and you could not get enough of his full little cheeks, dimples appearing as he grinned widely at you, drool slipping out of his mouth as he chewed at the teether El was trying to soothe him with. “But I’m so proud of him. He never thought his book would go anywhere, let alone be an instant bestseller.”

“Yeah. Well, there’s a lot of nerds in the world,” Dustin said, stepping up and holding out his arms. Baby Max leapt right into them. “The nerds far outnumber the non-nerds and he wrote something that appealed to every single one of them. Didn’t he, Max?” He grinned, bouncing his hip, Max giggling. “That’s right. Daddy did good. Huh, Max?”

“While I appreciate you naming your child after me,” Max interrupted, leaning against the side of the bookcase. “It is highly creepy to hear Dustin say my name in that baby voice.”

“Oh, Auntie Max is such a downer, isn’t she? She’s as grouchy as Oscar. We just need to find her a trash can,” Dustin cooed. “Come on little Max. I saw some cookies on the table in the back. Let’s get you one.”

“Dustin, not too much sugar, please,” El called but he was already gone and she sighed, tossing her hands in the air. “He’s going to let him have way too many cookies, isn’t he?”

“Oh yeah,” you grinned. “Not to mention punch. There’s fruit punch back there and cupcakes. Max will be all sugared up.”

“Great. At least the hotel has a pool. He can swim it out before bed.”

Robin and June walked up, hand in hand, and you smiled. Sometime within the last year, Robin has stopped being so self conscious about being affectionate with her girlfriend in public. She’d stopped worrying about what other people thought or what their reaction would be. She just let herself be happy. Even better, the two hadn’t encountered too much ignorance, choosing to ignore the side eyes or wrinkled noses. If anyone had anything to say, you would be more than happy to put them in their place.

Robin had moved out of her apartment when the lease was up last August and moved in with June. The two were now running the coffee shop together. Business was booming with all of Robin’s ideas. They had things going on every single night and the town was eager to come in, not only for the coffee and sandwiches anymore, but for all the extras. People waited anxiously to hear what the next read was for book club or to see the sign advertising what new musician would be playing. Local artists and poets signed up on a waiting list that was six months long to be able to come in and feature their work.

“This is one hell of a turnout,” June commented, eyes wide as she took in the crowd packed into the bookstore.

“Isn’t it amazing? It really means a lot to Mike that you all came to support him,” El told them with a smile.

“Of course we did,” Jonathan said, him and Nancy walking up. “Plus, it gave us a nice little getaway. We’re all going to take the boys to the Indianapolis Zoo tomorrow and to a baseball game on Sunday. They can’t wait. Jere is so excited to see his first professional game.”

Nancy laughed, “Well, the guys are going to take the boys to the baseball game. Y/N and I have appointments at the spa.”

You smiled, inhaling and exhaling deeply, “You have no idea how much I am looking forward to that. My feet could use some serious pampering right now.”

“Everything could use some pampering right about now,” Nancy said, waving her hand up and down to indicate your whole body. “Why do you think Steve booked it?”

Every time you thought Steve couldn’t get anymore perfect, he managed to prove you wrong, to do something to surprise you. When talk of this trip to support Mike’s book release came up, he’d instantly suggested you should turn it into a little vacation for all of you. You were all for the idea, excited to show him the Indianapolis Zoo that you’d enjoyed so much five years ago when Justin had brought you. You fully intended on replacing your broken coffee mug on this trip.

Then last week, he dropped a brochure on your lap. It was for a spa in the city. He’d booked you the Ultimate Package. It included a massage, a facial, manicure, pedicure, a hair wash, and style. You’d argued with him, telling him it was too much, but he’d insisted. Then he’d tempted you even more by telling you that Nancy was going with you.

You and Nancy had grown exceptionally close over the last couple of years. The woman you’d been so terrified of had turned out to be one of the most exceptional people you’d ever met. She’d welcomed you into their little family from the moment she’d met you and she had supported you and Steve every step of the way. Janice had been your maid of honor but Nancy had stood right next to her, a beautiful bridesmaid, her eyes shining with tears of joy as you and Steve had promised to love one another forever.

The bell above the door rang lightly, barely heard over the chatter of conversation within the four walls. Eli and Jeremiah came racing in, darting straight for their moms, red faced, shiny with sweat, and beaming from ear to ear.

“We pet a dog!” Eli yelled. “He was so big, mommy, like way bigger than me. Even bigger than Miles!”

Steve trailed behind them, clearly out of breath from trying to keep up with the boys. He stopped in front of you, hands on his hips, chest rising and falling deeply.

“Great Dane,” he muttered.

He’d offered to take the boys for a walk to get them out of everybody’s hair for a minute. They had been bursting with energy and sitting or standing nicely in the bookshop was not cutting it at the moment. You had been nervous they were going to cause a commotion if they didn’t get out of there for a bit.

“And we went to a playground!” Jeremiah added. “You should have seen it! It had everything and the monkey bars were so high but I did them anyway! I wasn’t even scared!”

“Yeah! And they had this swing that two people could sit on! It was like a circle and we sat on it and Daddy pushed us and we went so high!” Eli yelled.

“Wow, that’s incredible,” Jonathan replied, leaning down, hands on his knees. “How about we go get you both a cookie and some punch and you can pick out a book and sit and rest for a bit. I bet you could use some rest after all that excitement.”

“I sure could,” grumbled Steve, but his smile didn’t match his tone. The man might grumble and moan but he loved those boys with everything he had. And nothing made him happier than spending time with them.

“Aww,” you cooed, running your fingers through his hair, damp at the base of his neck from the heat and exertion, “did the boys wear you out, baby?”

“A bit,” he nodded. “They never stop, those two. They just have endless energy. I wish I could bottle up a fraction of it. It’s hard keeping up with them.”

“Well, you better get to training then,” Nancy teased, her eyes dropping to your stomach and then back up to Steve. “You’ve only got a couple months to get ready for an all new one. You think they’re exhausting now, do you remember Jeremiah at one and two and three?”

Yes, Eli was getting the sibling that you had always hoped for him to have but hadn’t expected to happen. After you were married, you had stopped birth control, the two of you deciding that if it happened, it happened. You weren’t stressing it. You would be content either way but when you realized in February that your period was a month late and that stick had shown two pink lines, you'd both been elated.

The idea of a little person that was a mixture of the two of you, a living, breathing testament to the love you shared, filled you both with more joy than you'd expected. It felt like a symbol of not only your relationship, but the blending of your two families into one. Beautiful splashes of color that collided to create the most beautiful piece of art. Because there was no doubt in your mind that this baby would be beautiful, especially if she got her dad’s lashes and that head of full, thick hair.

“Have you guys finally picked out a name?” questioned Robin for what had to be the twentieth time. “You know, I keep telling you that Robin is a pretty great name.”

“I would offer up Max but that’s already taken,” the red head shrugged. “Not that you couldn’t also name your child after me. I mean, I am obviously the coolest one here.”

El laughed, “While I agree, it would be very challenging to have two little ones running around with the same name. It’s already hard with you and my son.”

“Besides, Robin is the obvious choice,” Robin cut in.

“Why is Robin the obvious choice? Why not June?” her girlfriend asked. “I think it’s a very pretty name.”

“It’s a beautiful name for the most beautiful girl,” Robin said, “but I have been friends with Steve for fourteen years.”

“Well, if we’re going by the longest time knowing someone, then I should win,” Nancy argued. “I’ve known Steve for sixteen years and I am the mother of his other child. I think that gives me bonus points. Maybe the baby should be called Nancy.”

“I don’t know that Jere would want his little sister to be named the same thing as his mom,” Steve mused.

“Why not? Guys name their kids after themselves all the time.”

“While that is true,” you began, cutting off the conversation, “we have already settled on a name. She will be Peyton Robin Harrington.”

“Ohh!” El’s eyes went wide, her hands clasped to her chest. “I love Peyton. That’s such a cute name.”

“Yeah, and it doesn’t lend itself to any weird nicknames,” Steve said, his arms coming around you, hands covering your round belly. “That was one of my biggest concerns. I didn’t want to pick anything that could be turned into something awful.”

“Like Pey?” offered Lucas, earning a glare from Steve.

“Oh! Peyday!” Max grinned.

“Or PeyPey,” teased Robin.

Nancy snorted, “How about Ton? Come here little Ton!”

“You all suck,” Steve snapped, rolling his eyes. “None of you will be calling my beautiful little girl any of those awful names.”

“I don’t know,” you joked. “Peyday has a certain ring to it.”

“Don’t you start, too,” groaned Steve.

“Oh! Or Peycheck!”

“Honey, seriously…”

“Peyroll! No! I got it. Peypaya.”

Steve’s hands rested on his hips, his face so unamused that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You guys are so funny. Leave my daughter alone.”

“Hey,” you protested, winding your arms around his waist, feeling him melt against you, his hands leaving his hips to come around you. “She’s my daughter too.”

“So stop trying to start off her life by traumatizing her. She’ll never live down a name like Peypaya.”

“While I think Robin should have been her first name, I guess I am willing to accept the middle name,” the blond huffed, folding her arms and rolling her eyes. “I guess it’s still a little recognition of how neither of you could function without me.”

“We really couldn’t,” you agreed. “I mean, who would keep this one in line for me?” You nodded your head toward Steve and he snorted, shaking his head.

“Seriously. This dingus thought doing the whole baby room without you as a surprise while you were visiting your parents would be a good idea.”

“Hey! I thought it would be nice for her to come home to a finished nursery. I was just trying to save my wife from extra work.”

“Yeah and then she wouldn’t have had a say in any of it. She would have smiled and thanked you and secretly hated it every single time she walked into the room and it wasn’t what she’d envisioned,” Max told him. “Robin was right. You cannot do home renovations without your wife’s opinion.”

“I asked Janice for input. She knows her better than anyone.”

It was true. Janice knew exactly what you would want. The sage green nursery, photos of zoo animals that your friend had taken for you adorning the walls, soft pastel orange bedding and pillows, cuddly stuffed animals propped throughout. It was perfect and Janice would have guided Steve to do exactly that.

The two of you had been ecstatic when you'd found out that you were having a girl. Janice’s daughter, Olive, was only eighteen months so the girls would be close in age. Both of you hoped your girls would be just as inseparable as their moms were, a built in life-long friend.

Max relented, “Okay. I mean, asking her best friend was a solid plan. If anyone would know what she wanted, it was her.”

“Exactly and what she told me is exactly what my wife wanted anyway. I could have done it and then she wouldn’t have had to stress.”

“Either way, the nursery is perfect. The boys had the best time helping us get everything ready. They even each picked out an animal for the room. Eli wanted an elephant because it starts with ‘e’ and Jeremiah went with giraffe because it has the same sound as his name, even if the letters are different. His words, not mine.” You laughed, remembering how excited the boys had been running through the baby store, helping you pick out things for the room.

“They were a little bummed that we didn’t go with a superhero theme,” Steve added.

“Well, of course,” chuckled Lucas. “What little girl wouldn’t want Batman and Superman?”

Max shrugged, “I mean, you could have gone with Catwoman and Wonder Woman. That would have been pretty kickass.”

Mike stumbled over into their aisle, looking exhausted but happy, a wide smile stretching his face. He leaned down to kiss El and then dropped down to the floor dramatically in front of the bookshelf.

“My hand is going to wither and fall off,” he groaned, shaking his fingers. “I don’t even know how many books I signed.”

“Oh please. You love it,” Lucas told him.

Mike grinned, “I do. I never thought this would actually be me. I mean, nothing Mike Wheeler, kid who was picked on by the assholes all through school, now a bestselling author. People actually line up just to meet me and get me to slap my signature on something I wrote. It’s insane, man, but so damn cool.”

“Dada!”

Little Max came racing over, Dustin rushing behind him, clearly having lost control of the situation. The little guy flung himself into Mike’s open arms and the guy who’d looked terrified at the thought of being a father, scooped him up, kissing the top of his hair that was the shade of midnight, just like his dad’s.

“Hey buddy.”

Max held up the cookie he currently had in his hand, the whole thing a mushy wet mess from where he’d been gnawing at it. He tried to put it in Mike’s mouth and he grimaced, shaking his head.

“No thank you. That’s Max’s cookie. You eat it, buddy.”

“And how many cookies is that, Dustin?” inquired El, the girl already having the mom look down, currently giving it to Dustin.

The boy shrugged, curls spilling out from under his ballcap, “I don’t know. Not too many…I mean…” He ran his hand over his mouth, mumbling, “Four.”

“Four! Did you say four?” El groaned, her head dropping back. “Dustin, seriously. I am going to make you deal with him when he’s running up and down the hallways of the hotel and refusing to go to sleep.”

“Okay. I don’t mind hanging out with the little dude.”

El’s eyes rolled up into her head as the adult Max patted her shoulder gently.

“Well, while he’s had four cookies, I’ve had nothing for the last three hours and I am starving,” Mike announced, one arm around his son as he rose up to his feet. “What do you all say we head out and get some dinner?”

“You buying?” asked Nancy.

“Yeah, with that big advance, you can afford it, right?” Lucas agreed.

Robin placed an arm on his shoulder, grinning, “Mr. Big Bucks over here these days.”

“Oh! If Mike’s buying, I am getting all the drinks,” June said.

“And dessert,” Max added. “Maybe we should order every dessert on the menu. You know, so we can taste everything.”

“Don’t forget appetizers,” Will stated.

Nolan nodded, “Yeah. I love to taste test things at other restaurants. Give me ideas for new recipes. I bet we could manage to order one of everything on the menu, for research, you know?”

“You guys are jerks,” Mike huffed.

“What, with that fancy Range Rover you drive now, I assumed you must have lots of expendable cash,” Jonathan said as he and the boys joined them.

“I mean, I’m doing okay,” Mike shrugged, his ears turning bright red. “I wouldn’t say I’m rolling in cash but I can buy dinner.”

They all whooped and cheered, heading out of the bookshop and onto the streets of Indy.

“But not one of everything on the menu!” he yelled after them.

“What?” Robin bellowed. “Sorry. Can’t hear you!”

“Yeah!” Lucas yelled. “Too busy imagining all the food I’m going to eat!”

Steve rolled his eyes at the group, his arm coming around your shoulder as you trailed behind everybody. His mouth dropped to your ear, lips brushing over the tender skin as he whispered, “Regretting getting mixed up with this crew? Rethinking your choices?”

“Never,” you said, and you meant it, because this guy right here and everyone that came along with him were the best choice you’d ever made. Two years ago you’d said you would never find something this amazing again. But never say never.

Taglist: @katethetank@roxiehorrorshow@sapphire4082@bakugouswh0r3@frostandflamesfanfic @mix-matchsocks @mushy-mushroom04 @palmtreesx3 @littlebookworm86 @eddies-trailer-babe @cheesewritings @emilyj444 @daisyhollyxox @angelbabyivy @the-fairy-anon @loritate7311 @k-k0129 @antiquecultist

And this brings this story to an end. Endings are always bittersweet for me. Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little story! 😊 And replies and reblogs are always appreciated if you enjoy it. I love to hear what you think! ❤️❤️❤️

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dreamofbecoming · 10 months

Text

yeah alright this got away from me. posting in pieces, part one is just stobin, no shippy stuff. steddie and rockie to follow. i'll drop it on ao3 once all 3 parts are done

now on ao3!

platonic stobin

rating: t

wc: 3.5k

---

Robin stopped being surprised by Steve Harrington showing up at her bedroom window months ago. Jesus, there's a sentence her 16 year old self wouldn't fucking believe for a second. The Hair, climbing up the trellis her dad built for the roses her mom planted and then forgot about three months later? Yeah right, as if. But it turns out alternate dimensions and sci-fi movie monsters and Russian conspiracies in Bumfuck, Nowhere, USA are all real, so how surprising really is The King himself, collapsing through her window with all the grace of a baby giraffe, out of breath like he- holy shit, did he fucking run here?

"Dingus, did you run here? What the hell?"

"Had to- hang on, Jesus. Holy shit." He bends over, hands on his knees, panting like he just ran a marathon. Which, she guesses, he almost did.

"You have a car, you lunatic, what could possibly be so important?"

"Didn't think about it. Had to get here."

"Is someone dead?!" Oh fuck, Is the Upside Down back? Oh shit, oh no, it can't be back, right? Superhero girl closed the gates! Right?! Oh god, oh no, oh fuck, it's back, the Russians are back, they realized they couldn't let her live after what she's seen, her parents will never even know what happened to her, and they'll kill Dingus too, and dorky little Henderson, and that menace Erica, oh god, they're gonna die, and Hopper's gone and superhero girl is far away and she doesn't have superpowers anymore anyway, which is frankly bogus because what the hell, Robin never even got to hang out with a real live magic person before, which, ok, that's a selfish thought, but that's ok, we can think selfish thoughts and then set them aside and not act on them, thoughts are not actions, thoughts happen all the time without our consent, they don't determine our character-

"Bobs, you're spiraling. Nothing bad happened, I just realized something and I freaked out and I had to talk to you right away. Forgot to call. Sorry, I should have called. Ran straight out of the house. I don't even think my shoes match, what the fuck?"

She's gonna kill him, she really is.

She loves him so much.

"Jesus, you're insane. Sit, you absolute dweeb. I'm getting you some water, when I get back you can tell me what the hell is going on."

He's sitting on her bed when she gets back upstairs, staring at something in his hands. Christ, his hands are shaking. What the fuck, Dingus?

He takes the water and downs it in one go- ugh, sports guys- then flops onto his back and covers his eyes with a miserable groan.

"I know we've got the whole twin telepathy thing going on, bubba, but I'm gonna need at least a little bit to work with here. Give me something. Is it your parents? The kids? Uh, what was her name? From Thursday? Janice?"

"Janine, and no. Ugh. Here." The arm not covering his eyes flops out towards her, holding- ah. A zine. He had promised to drive up to Indy last weekend to the secret bookshop she told him about and get her some new ones, even though she couldn't go with him because her cousin Randy got caught cheating on his fiancée and her parents made her come with the rest of the family to help him move. Fucking Randy. Maybe he should make better choices, so the rest of them wouldn't have to clean up his messes. Jerk.

Anyway.

"Marked the page." Which, yep, there's a purple paper clip stuck to a page near the middle, because Steve knows how much she hates people who dogear books, even books that aren't really books at all, so he's been training himself out of it, because he's sort of the best. Again, 16 year old Robin would have her committed for thinking that, but here we are.

The pamphlet isn't one of the periodicals she sent him for, so he must have picked it up on his own. It looks handmade, just some folded sheets that look like they came out of a typewriter, bound with the kind of twine you can buy at the hardware store. It's called Awakenings. The page he's marked looks like a personal essay, no title, no real signature, just a pair of initials at the end of the page and a half of writing. She starts reading, trying to figure out what the hell spooked Steve so bad.

"I've always been normal. I've always had crushes on men, just like the other girls. There was never a feeling of "I'm different," or "Oh, this is wrong." There was never anything to think very hard about. I'd giggle and blush when the boys looked over at us on the playground, same as everyone else. Later on when I was older I looked at my poster of Harrison Ford, shirtless and hairy and sweating, and I touched myself, and it felt good, just like it was supposed to. I didn't mind thinking of my future husband, and our future kids, and the pretty house with the pretty garden we'd have, just like my parents have, just like they wanted for me. I was normal. Everything was fine.

I thought everything about me was normal. So I didn't understand why the other girls at sleepover parties would giggle and stop and say "Ew, gross!" when we practiced kissing. It felt nice! I wanted to keep going! But it seemed like no one else did. I didn't understand why none of them talked about getting butterflies in their stomach when Laura, who was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, transferred in our senior year, why they seemed so angry at her. Those butterflies were what jealousy felt like, right? So why did the other girls seem to feel so different?

I made my first lesbian friend in college, on the very first day, right across the hall in my dorm. We sat next to each other at Orientation and I thought I'd never have another best friend that wonderful in my whole life, so I'd hold on to her with everything I had. She came out to me the night before Christmas break, hiding under the blankets in my dorm room with the twinkling lights glowing. She was so scared. I held her and told her I loved her no matter what, and she seemed so glad, to have someone to talk to.

When she talked about falling in love with girls, I was so confused. The way she described it sounded like what it felt like to have girlfriends, I was sure. I felt that all the time. I asked her if she was sure she was gay, and she looked so shocked and angry and hurt, and I didn't know how to fix it, so I tried to explain. That what she felt couldn't be liking girls, because I felt that too, and I was normal. I liked boys, so I couldn't be gay. I couldn't be.

I'm glad it was her I said all that to. If someone else had told me about being bisexual, I think I would have hated them. I would have cried, and screamed, and said horrible things. Because I wasn't gay, I was normal, and it was so scary to think that might be a lie. Thank God it was her, my best friend in the world, who I never want to lose. Thank God I listened.

Because I'm not normal. I'm queer. I like men, and I like women. I can love them both the same, but it doesn't matter anymore, because I love her. I love her, and she loves me, and I don't need to be normal anymore."

Robin's face feels wet, which probably means she's crying. She cries a lot, reading these sorts of stories, in the zines she has to keep hidden under her bed, or, these days, at Steve's house. It's never going to be her, she knows. Not here in Hawkins, but it still makes something ache deep inside her, like pressing on a bruise, but in a good way, seeing love happen to other people. People like her. Seeing that it can.

"So?"

Oh shit. Right, Dingus. They're about him right now. Something about this essay in particular freaked him out.

"Uh. It's. A nice essay? I'm glad things worked out for them?"

Stevie lets out a pathetic whine, sort of like back at Scoops when he earned a particularly bad tally on the You Suck board. "Robbiiiiiiieeeee!"

"I'm sorry! I think I'm missing something, what's wrong with this essay? I don't get it, bubba, I'm sorry. I need some context." She does feel bad. Usually she can pluck whatever's bothering him right out of his brain and into the light, where it almost never looks as bad, but she's at a loss right now.

He's got both hands over his face again, and his response is so muffled she can't make out a word.

"Try again in human sounds, please."

"Ugh! I thought everyone felt like that!"

Huh? "Felt like...what, exactly?"

"Like that!" He flails wildly at the pamphlet in her hands. He's sitting up now, hair all askew from tugging at it, and there's a vaguely worrying crazed look in his eye, like right before he tackled that guard. "Like kissing boys and girls both feel nice, and like seeing a handsome guy and feeling jealous of him makes my stomach flutter, and like having friends feels the same as having crushes! I thought that was just how everyone felt all the time!"

Oh.

Oh no.

Poor Dingus! No wonder he panicked and ran here like a crazy person!

"Stevie, can I hug you? Please?" She's not much for physical touch most of the time, but Steve is, and also she's found in the last few months that she doesn't mind so much when it's him. She sort of understands why other people like hugs so much, if they always feel like hugging Steve feels for her. And she really thinks he needs to be hugged, right now.

He nods miserably. She drapes her arms around his shoulders and holds on as tight as she can, hauling him sideways until he's practically laying down on her. He clutches her back and buries his face in her shoulder. She can feel her neck getting wet with tears, a sensation that would normally make her want to claw off her own skin, but this isn't about her. Dingus needs her.

"It's ok, bubba. I'm so sorry. I know how scary this is. When I first figured out I had a crush on Linda Sanderson I cried so hard I threw up, you know? I get it. It's gonna be ok, I promise. We'll make it ok. We faced down evil Russians and giant meat monsters, what's a little sexuality crisis, huh? We got this! We're the goddamn Wonder Twins!"

He snorts at that, which she's pretty sure leaves snot on her neck, which. Ew. Still. Problems for Later Robin.

"We are not, Will and El are the Wonder Twins."

"Uh, nope, no chance, I barely even met them so therefore I am vetoing their application. Sorry kiddos, better luck next time! Find your own nickname, losers!"

Steve sits back, laughing, and she preens a little at being able to bring him back from the brink so easily. She loves him so much she feels like she's glowing with it, sometimes. It almost makes her wish she was straight, because what girl is she ever going to find who loves her this much? But only almost, because. Well. Girls, amiright? Phew.

"So what now, Stevie? You wanna say it out loud? That helps, sometimes. You wanna not say it out loud? You wanna go to a gay bar and find you a boy? You wanna never think about it again? It's totally your call."

"Say it out loud, huh?"

"Hm. It took me like a month, and then the first time I could only say it sitting in the back of my closet with the bedroom door locked and the closet door closed, and I could only whisper it. Just "I'm a lesbian," to myself, like the world's most ironic little goblin. And I had to throw up again after. But it did feel good, once I rinsed my mouth out, anyway. Cleansing, you know? And it gets easier every time." Steve's eyebrows are raised and he's chuckling again, so that's a win. She's not lying, but it is sort of funny, she supposes. In hindsight, anyway.

"Ok. Ok, I can do that. I think. Yeah, I can do that."

She's so proud of him. He's the bravest person she's ever met, she thinks. "You wanna get in the closet?"

"Isn't the whole point to come out of the closet, Robs?" He's smirking at her. Bastard. She whacks him in the shoulder on principle. He may be having a crisis, but he's still a jackass. Her favorite jackass in the whole world, but still.

"Har har, you're a regular Bob Hope. Alright then, bigshot, let's hear it."

A little of that fear creeps back onto his face, and she wishes she could wipe it off, but that's not how this works. They can't make the scary things less scary. He couldn't make the Russians less terrifying, but he could hold her hand and make her laugh and carry some of that fear with her. She can do that for him now, too.

She grabs his hand, and he clutches back tightly. He takes a deep breath.

"I'm...fuck. Ok. Ok, I can do this. I'm...bisexual." The air leaves him in a big whoosh, and he laughs a little. "Yeah, ok, fuck. I'm bisexual. Holy shit, Robbie, I'm bisexual!"

"Hell yeah you are!" She's grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. She's so fucking proud of him.

He's laughing again, a little hysterically, and he hugs her tight again, and she holds him back just as close and thinks oh, he's like me. I'm not alone. I have Steve, and he's like me, and he's mine forever and ever.

When they separate, she looks at him seriously.

"So do you, like, want this to be a thing? Because we can totally make it a thing, and like, get me a fake ID and go to a gay bar and do all kinds of wild shit if you want, but we don't have to, you know? If you need to just, like. Digest this, for a while. It's totally up to you, I just know it took me a while to feel ok with it, and I have no idea if it's different for you but I just want to be what you need, you know? You've been so good with me, and I've never had a queer friend before, so I don't know how, but I want to be just as good to you. You're my Dingus and I love you and I don't know how much of a gay guru I can be on account of, you know, I've never met any gay people besides me and the pretty lady at the bookstore but I couldn't even get real human words to come out of my mouth when I tried to talk to her so I don't think that counts, you know? But I still wanna help! Let me help!"

"Bobbie! Bobbie breathe, you're gonna pass out. I don't think I need a gay guru, I just need a gay best friend, and I have that, so I promise I'm good, ok? Promise. Also I love you too.”

She takes a deep breath, following his lead the way they worked out in the horrible days after Starcourt, when she couldn't sleep without him next to her, warm and alive and breathing, and even then she would wake up in the night with her breath coming short and her vision tunneling and Steve would hold her hand against his chest and breathe slowly, in and out, until she could follow him, and the world wasn't so terrible and scary and loud anymore.

She still thinks about that awful hour underground, thinking she was strapped to the corpse of a boy she never let become her friend, but Steve is always there now when she needs him, and he never complains when she grabs his wrist or puts her head on his chest to make absolutely sure that big, stupid heart is still beating.

When she's breathing normally again, he drops their joined hands down between them, toying idly with the chain linking her ring to her bracelet. "I think...I think I'm glad I said it, and I'm glad we talked about it, but can we maybe just...put it away, for a while? Like it's not...ugh. I guess this is kind of shitty to say, so like, hit me if you want, I guess, but I kind of don't think it matters right now?"

"No no, that makes perfect sense! Like, you still like girls, right?" He nods. "And you don't like. Have a crush on any boys right now. Or do you? Oh man if you do you have to tell me though, it's platonic soulmate law. It's in the bylaws, Steve, don't make me soulmate fine you!"

He laughs and shoves her face away. "Jesus, Rob, no! I don't have a crush on any guys, who would I even crush on in this town? We're not exactly swimming in eligible bachelors. I don't have a crush on anybody at all, I'd tell you, I swear. I know the rules!"

"Oh phew, good. You have to tell me when you do, though, I'm way excited to get you back for making fun of Tammy."

"It was the God's honest truth, Bobbie! She sings like a muppet!"

"Oh my god, shut up, Dingus! Ugh! As I was saying, you super duper have to tell me when you do, but for now, I think maybe you don't have to think about it really at all if you don't want. I mean, practically speaking, it's not really relevant to your everyday life, so we can totally revisit when that changes, but you don't have to like. Join a pride parade tomorrow, you know? You are you who are no matter what. You don't have to prove anything to anyone, especially not to me, not ever."

He leans his head on her shoulder, and she scritches her nails through his hair. It really has no right being as soft as it is, with the amount of hairspray he uses. It's frankly rude, is what it is.

"Thanks, Bobs. I think I'm just gonna put it away for now. It just...another thing to know about me, you know? Like, I'm bad at fighting people but good at fighting monsters, all my best friends are kids except you, I'm bi but it doesn't matter because there aren't any boys to date in Hawkins anyway. Plus my dad would kill me if he found out. Like actually kill me, not "oh geez I missed curfew, my dad's gonna kill me" type kill me, like I think he'd actually try and beat me to death. So there's really no reason to talk about it right now, you know?"

There's a pit of ice in her stomach, and she tightens her arm around him like she can keep him safe just by holding on tight enough. She hates how casually he said that, just like she hates how casually he always talks about how his parents treat him, like he honestly believes it's normal. "Jesus, Dingus. You know you can come here if you need, right? My parents love you, they already think we're getting married. They'd make you sleep in the guest room, but I could sneak you in here easy."

He snorts again. "We're totally gonna end up married for tax reasons anyway, we're never beating the rumors." That makes her snort, too. He's not wrong, though. She isn't going to be allowed to have a wife anytime soon, and if she has to choose someone to be her next of kin, it's always gonna be him. They're planning to move in together when she goes to school next year anyway. No one is ever gonna believe them that they aren't dating, but that's...fine. Honestly, there are worse things. Better to have Steve by her side than not, and if no one else understands them, well, they understand each other, don't they? That's more than enough.

"Yeah, I know I can come here if I need, Robs. It's fine mostly, I swear. They're not home until Christmas anyway."

He takes another deep breath, like he's settling himself. "I'm just glad we talked about it. I feel better now."

She cards her fingers through his hair again, basking in the feeling of her favorite person so close, and so content. "I'm glad, Dingus."

They're alive, and they're together, and they're queer, and neither of them is ever going to have to be alone again.

"Hang on, did you say you've kissed girls and boys?!"

part 2 part 3

#stranger things #platonic stobin #steve harrington & robin buckley #steve harrington #robin buckley #bisexual steve harrington #steve's bi awakening #my writing #robin calls steve bubba and steve calls her bobbie and i will die on both those hills #you can pry their weird nicknames from my cold dead hands #autistic robin buckley #it’s subtle but it’s there and it’s important to me #also her parents are therapists i’m sure of it

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sw33tsuccubus · 8 months

Text

Sun Kissed

apollo x reader

summary: Y/n is a gardener. They find out Apollo has been giving them extra help with their plants.

genre: fluff

word count: 775

You worked hard, wanting your plants to thrive. You grew multiple things; strawberries, tomatoes, lettuce, green onions, potatoes, carrots, peppers, apples, pumpkins. Even if you didn’t like some of the foods you grew, you could sell them to the local village market for money.

Today, you were rounding around to see what was growing. You brought a basket just in case.

As you inspected the tomato trellis, the sun shone on you. To you, the sun had a pattern. It would shine on you while checking the tomatoes and while you checked the strawberries. Then it would make the peppers and pumpkins shine. It hid for the rest of the plants, though made pretty shadows of your cottage.

You picked a few cherry tomatoes before heading towards the strawberries. The strawberries were usually fast bloomers, and they were this time. You plucked multiple strawberries, shifting the plant leaves only to find even more. You got on your knees and got to work, picking strawberry after strawberry.

Since you had many strawberry plants, the basket was half full by the time you finished plucking. You wiped sweat from your forehead. The sun was really shining on you. You hoped you didn’t get a sunburn, grabbing your basket and heading to where you planted the apple trees.

Not all the apples were formed, although you still managed to pick a few. After making your rounds, you walked into your cottage with a full basket. The pumpkins, carrots, and potatoes hadn’t grown yet but that was okay. They could take as long as they needed.

~~~

You entered the village later that day, having sorted each crop into its own basket. You entered your usual market, greeting the lady behind the counter. You placed the baskets on the counter and she whistled.

“Another good season?”

“Seems like it will be!”

“Do you have a secret, or do the gods like you?”

You counted through the apples with her, and you hummed in curiosity.

“I don’t know. Demeter wouldn’t like me, I don’t think. I sell the crops instead of giving them for free.”

You joke, and the shopkeeper laughs quietly.

“What about Apollo? Sun god?”

You thought about it. The sun patterns you had noticed from your three years of gardening. The birds that would sing to your plants while you were sick. Maybe Apollo did notice you.

“I’ve noticed some sun patterns. So what?”

She snickered, putting the apple basket to the side and grabbing the tomato one.

“I’ve got a thought for you. Heard some girls talking the other day while they exchanged fruits behind my shop.”

You cocked an eyebrow in curiosity.

“If the sun shines on your face, it’s Apollo giving you kisses.”

You smiled faintly, counting up the tomatoes.

“That would be silly. The sun shines on my face plenty, but it does the rest of my body.”

“Does it start with your face, as a greeting?”

You thought for a moment. The answer was yes.

“No. I’m not special.”

She shrugged, pushing the tomato basket to the side and grabbing the strawberry one.

“Oh well. It’s a cool thought. That means sun burns must be hickeys though, hm?”

You could feel yourself blush as you nod. You had just recovered from sunburned cheeks and shoulders. How interesting.

“Guess so. Apollo must be needy, hm?”

She laughed.

“Guess so.”

The two of you continued talking through the counting and paying, though you didn’t pay much attention to it. Soon, you were leaving the village with your baskets and a pouch full of money.

You traveled through the woods to your cottage, putting all of the baskets away in their respected spots. You tucked your money pouch in its spot under the sink.

Taking your leftover strawberries, you sat outside in the grass. You ran your barefoot feet through the ground, humming contently.

You ate the strawberries, observing the animals that roamed the woods. After a few minutes, the sun shone on your face. You smiled, continuing to nibble at a strawberry.

When all of the strawberries were gone you nervously looked to the sky. It was clear blue, only a few clouds littered the domain. The sun was up there, but you knew not to look directly at it.

“Apollo?”

You whispered to the sky. You were answered by a bird chirping and flying past you.

~~~

You weren’t quite sure what to think after that day. The sun shone in your face on a regular basis nowadays, and your plants seemed to grow abundantly.

Some days you would get sunburned on the shoulder, even if you were wearing a tee shirt. It was all confusing you. If it was Apollo, why wouldn’t he come greet you? It was as if he answered your thoughts one day.

“Y/n?”

You dropped a red pepper into your basket, looking up. You opened your mouth to speak, but froze. He was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen.

Tanned skin, golden blonde hair reaching his shoulders, sky blue eyes. His body was toned, and on display. He wore an outfit you would see on a guy in the eighties; cropped shirt, red, with a yellow dragon on it. Jean shorts that showed off his thighs, and sandals.

“Apollo?”

He smiled at you, and you felt the breath get knocked out of you.

“Hello. Sorry for intruding. I wanted to greet you.”

You stood, making sure not to knock over the basket filled with peppers. You walked to the god and placed a hand on his cheek to make sure he was real. He was.

“Well, hi.”

He smiled humorously.

“I love the gardening you do. If you couldn’t notice, I help a lot.”

You nodded.

“It’s apparent. Thank you, Apollo.”

He nods, looking around at the garden.

“It’s cute. Do you have lemonade?”

You led him inside and poured him a glass of lemonade with ice cubes. He thanked you and sipped from it, watching you intently as you made yourself a glass.

“You’re pretty cute, Y/n. It’s why I chose you.”

You sipped from your lemonade before you glanced to him.

“What do you mean, chose me?”

“Well, I would love to be your lover.”

You froze, almost choking on your drink.

“I understand we should get to know each other, but you’re a great candidate. I think my sister would approve of you.”

You thought about Apollo’s sister, Artemis. Goddess of the hunt and the moon.

“Doesn’t she have something against love?”

He laughs softly.

“Yes. Mainly against men trying to help women all the time.”

You nod.

“She wouldn’t approve of what you did for me then.”