#what if I just tagged every pre-teen

[collateral-joy]

- Pre-Teen World Telethon

[kikiiswashere]

Four to Tango

As promised, part two of Waltzing for Three!!!

Thank you for helping me reach 200 followers for this little ol' blog of mine 🥰 And welcome to all the newcomers!

The idea for this ficlet was born of watching my bestie @sand-sea-and-fable help out a pregnant friend by lifting her belly off her hips, and it just sort of spiraled from there.

It's also worth noting that I myself am not a mother, nor have I given birth, nor do I wish to be a mom (husband got the ol' snip-snip). So why this fic? Good question 😅

That being said, I did my best to write about the labor process relatively accurately without getting into the super nitty-gritty of it 😂 So, please enjoy this weird little fever-dream of a fic, and please comment and reblog 💗

Tags for the interested parties: @luhmoon, @legendaryflowercheesecake, @thebeserkvernid, @miffysoo

Pairing: Established Silco x AFAB!Reader

Rating: Teen/Mature (brief reference to oral sex)

CW: Non-graphic descriptions of pregnancy and labor

Insistent cramping had woken you up in the wee-hours one morning, swelling and ebbing in a slow rhythm that sent your heart tapping, a loop of nerves coiling around your gut – little room that there was for it.

Silco had been a terribly light sleeper ever since Vander’s betrayal, ever since those early years on an under-tested Shimmer variant that left his brain unable to fully settle. So, the moment you shifted into a sitting position, he shot up as well.

“What’s wrong?”

Words got gummed up on fear and excitement in your mouth. There was a slight tremor in your fingers as they grazed over your belly. You had noticed it sitting even lower on your hips these past several days. While you were very done with being pregnant, you were still nervous and surprised to say –

“I think it’s time.”

With comical amounts of speed, but awe-inspiring grace, Silco flung himself from the bed, divesting himself of his eyepatch and pajamas. After changing into a simple set of trousers and an old button-up shirt, he fetched the stopwatch Jinx had invented to easily time your contractions, and wrote a tube prompting your midwife that she was needed. It had been decided early on that the babe’s delivery – barring any complications – would happen at The Last Drop. You, nor Silco, were willing to venture outside to a clinic when your family would be at its most vulnerable.

Too nervous to lay down, much less fall back asleep, you began pacing the large bedroom in your large sleep shirt. Every time a contraction locked up and spasmed through your lower belly and back, your fingers pressed the stopwatch’s clicker. And you breathed as the midwife had instructed. Silco kept you company, walking with you up and down the length of the bedroom, holding your hand and becoming an anchor to squeeze when contractions rolled through. Together, you both noted and kept track of their intervals. Their spacing  and length suggested that the little one’s arrival was not imminent, but the consistency indicated that this was indeed labor.

The midwife arrived, ushered in by a half-asleep Sevika. You’d bribed her with an absurd bonus and several pre-paid sessions at Babette’s for her to crash in one of the Drop’s private guest rooms during these last days of your pregnancy. She was needed for security, and to stand-in for Silco when his attention and priorities would be elsewhere.

“Good luck,” she’d grumbled, barely glancing at you before shutting the bedroom door, and trudging back down the hall.

The midwife was a petite, wizened Vastaya who’d been selected for her services not only because of her field prowess, but because she was staunch loyalist to you and Silco. Shimmer had helped save more than one of her clients when the birthing process had begun to go sideways, and that was enough for her to hitch her wagon to your agenda.

She was also direct to the point of rudeness – a personality trait that was wholly welcome given the slippery, hidden, self-serving rhetoric you were used to having to deal with.

“Time?” she asked, setting her medical bag down on your dresser with a heavy thunk.

“Forty-five seconds to a minute, about every seven minutes,” you answered. Then gasped and doubled over as another contraction bent you.

The midwife hummed. “How long?”

“About an hour,” Silco said. He squeezed back at your hand as you rode out the current wave rolling through.

Clucking her tongue, the midwife shook her head, long ears slapping lightly against her horns.

“Early.”

Silco frowned. “You are being more than thoroughly compensated to show up whenever we ask.”

“Indeed. To the bed, miss. Let’s have a look.”

Once your legs were freed from the lock of the contraction, you shuffled to the bed. Silco helped you into position, and the midwife closed in. Her fingers were warm, but the tools were cold. The combination, along with your nerves, caused your lungs to shudder.

“Five,” she declared, drawing her head from between your thighs.

“That’s halfway,” you chuckled weakly. Silco brushed his thumb over your knuckles

The midwife hummed in agreement. “True. But as discussed, this process is not linear. And being your first delivery, it is very likely this will take a while. How is the pain?”

“Fine. Manageable.” It came out as a grit, but she didn’t seem to doubt you.

“You should eat and drink while you can. Is there anything else you want or need right now?”

Together, you and Silco walked to the small kitchen in your private quarters. You rested your forearms on the counter as the length of your spine hammocked behind you, hips gently swishing side-to-side. Silco kept the breakfast blissfully simple: toast with a light slather of butter, and a mug of warmed water with lemon.

Eating was slow going. Between the jitters and contractions, your appetite was seriously curbed. When you finally made it to the second piece of toast, Jinx shuffled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and bed-headed. Her bedraggled demeanor did not last long though, as her whip-quick senses tuned into the energy of the space. Big, blue eyes tracked between Silco – unusually underdressed – and your strange posture. One could nearly hear the cogs in her head clicking and whirring.

“Is it time?!”

In a flash, she clambered onto the stool next to you, bright and tittering. Her exuberance washed over you in a relieving breeze. Reaching over, you ran a hand through her unkempt hair.

“Sure is, kiddo.”

“When will he be here?”

“Could be a while yet, Jinx,” Silco answered. He set a glass of juice in front of her. “What would you like? Toad-in-the-hole? Porridge? Pancakes?”

“Make ‘em have a face!” she crowed.

A hook of a smile pulled at Silco’s mouth as he turned back toward the stove.

Jinx settled onto the stool; legs kicking merrily beneath her as she sipped her juice.

“What does it feel like?”

“Like intense menstrual cramps.”

Her small face squished in a ponder. While you had had that conversation with her, Jinx had yet to broach into that aspect of puberty. Thus, she had no point of reference.

“Kinda like when you roof-run after eating, and your abs cramp up,” you offered. “Kind of.”

A contraction swelled upon you, and you grit your teeth, face pinching, head dropping. Silco stepped away from the stovetop, and placed a grounding hand between your shoulder blades. Jinx watched, eyes wide and worried. Timidly, she shifted toward you, pressing her forehead to your shoulder.

The pain continued, but was temporarily numbed by the overwhelming love and gratitude for the two people on either side of you.

Your family.

It was never part of the plan when it came to your Silco’s ideas to lift Zaun up, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. And in a few hours, three would be four. Your heart beat big, tapping against your throat as the contraction passed. You clicked the stopwatch.

“That seems worse than roof-run cramps,” Jinx said suspiciously.

You chuffed. “Like I said: Kind of.”

Silco rubbed his hand up and down your spine a few times, before kissing your temple and returning to the stove.

“You remember what we talked about?” you asked Jinx.

She fiddled with her hair, nodding. “I can come and go as I please.”

“Right. If you want to be with us, I want you to be there. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. You get to decide, and it doesn’t have to be right now.”

Jinx nodded again, eyes staring into the middle-distance. Reaching over, you brushed your fingers through her hair again. Her eyes snapped back to yours.

“Are you scared?”

You gave her a reassuring smile.

“No. I’m happy.”

It wasn’t a lie. But a few hours later, your happiness was thoroughly overshadowed by the pain of labor. It was staggering how it had intensified. How it was becoming near non-stop as the space between contractions shortened and shortened. Gravity felt impossible to contend with on top of everything else, so you sank onto your bedroom floor with a low, guttural growl.

Silco had been attentive throughout, anticipating your needs before you even voiced them. Ever your anchor, your source for steadiness. Even now, on your hands and knees, his own wide palms settled onto your hips and pressed in. It pulled an appreciative groan from your throat.

“You’re doing so well, my love.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Your eyes flicked to the bathroom door where Jinx was helping the midwife prepare a warm bath. You were proud of your girl. Admittedly, part of you doubted she would choose to stick around once labor became loud and more intense. When you could no longer keep yourself from crying out, hesitancy had flickered in her eyes, and her brows pitched in concern. But instead of dashing away, she’d reached for your hand and held tight.

“Is there anything you can give her?” she’d asked the midwife incredulously.

The female had smirked, impressed and moved by the girl’s protectiveness of you.

“I have mild pain relievers, but nothing that will fully numb – “

“Shimmer?”

The midwife’s black lips thinned. “That is only to be used in emergencies,” she explained. “It is too potent and powerful to be used for anything other than the most extreme circumstances. Which – “her eyes looked up at your haggard form on the bed – “does not seem probable. Her labor is progressing as it should. There is nothing to worry about.”

Jinx frowned, doubtful, and hunkered closer to your side.

“Seems like a dumb design that it hurts so much.”

“Agreed,” you wheezed.

“Come,” the midwife said, “let’s check you.”

She declared you’d progressed to eight centimeters. That had been three hours ago. And the pain just continued to climb and build.

A small sob burst through your teeth. Silco knelt at your side, quietly saying your name.

“I’m scared, Sil,” you admitted in a whisper. You were thankful Jinx wasn’t near to hear you back-pedal. Your breath hitched and words tumbled out: “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He took your warm and tear-streaked face between his hands, and repeated your name.

“Look at me.”

Reluctantly, your tired and wet eyes focused on his face. He looked at you with fierce earnestness, thumbs sweeping across the apples of your flushed cheeks. Suddenly, part of you grieved that the baby would never know Silco without his scars. Or yours. Outside and in.

Silco called your name again.

“Look at me,” he repeated. Your eyes slid back to his. Blue and red pinned you in place. “You can do this. I’ve not met anyone more tenacious, nor strong, nor as spirited as you. Those are but a few of the reasons I fell in love with you so long ago.” His eyes softened now; his adoration made plain. “You’ve absolutely no reason to doubt yourself.”

A small hiccup bubbled from your mouth, and you pressed your face into the warmth of his palm, breathing him in deeply. Not having properly dressed for the day, he hadn’t put any cologne on. The natural terra-sweet scent of his skin filled your nose. You were grateful for his support, respect, and belief in your abilities. A sudden, silly thought flitted across your mind.

“Not my dance moves?”

A single amused breath huffed from his throat. That infinitesimal smirk – one of the reasons you’d fallen in love with him – appeared on his lips. His blue eye flashed; as it often did when an idea struck him. Silco lifted to his feet, and used a strong grip to pull you to yours. He guided your arms to loop around his shoulders and neck, while his went to your low back. A weary chuckle left you as you understood. Your cheek was a relieved, heavy weight against his shoulder. It had to be a strange sight, this dance configuration: with your body slouched against his, massive belly hanging between you two. Slowly, your feet began gently shifting side-to-side.

“Admittedly,” he murmured against your crown, “your dance moves leave something to be desired right now.”

You laughed, even as another contraction swelled within you. Silco’s hands firmed up on your body, holding you upright as it moved through your body.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you hissed as most of the pain subsided. It was such now that there was no longer any real relief.

“A dance and a suck job? Lucky me.”

Your fingers pinched Silco’s upper back, and you felt the tremor of silent laughter in his shoulders.

“Tub’s ready!” Jinx sang as she flounced out of the bathroom.

Managing to smile at her, despite another great, contracting swell that threatened to bring you to your knees, you took her hand. Silco kept a strong arm wrapped around your middle, and you followed Jinx into the humid warmth of the bathroom.

The water helped. Its heat soothed your pained muscles and aching bones. The irony was not lost on you that you found peace in it. After a few minutes of settling into the tub, you gave Silco a look that to anyone else may have seemed like nothing. But he caught the message in your eyes, and tucked himself close to the tub’s edge, taking your hand. Jinx huddled herself into his lap, nervously fingering the buttons on his shirt.

About an hour later, the midwife’s large ears flicked in your direction as the quality of your breath shifted, as the sounds leaving you turned deeper and more animal. Her deft hands slipped into the water and between your legs.

“Something changed,” you gasped, hunching slightly. “It feels like – “

“It’s time,” she said, pulling her hands from the water. Somehow, she’d also stripped your underwear off in the same movement without you noticing. “It’s time to push.”

Push. The word settled into your body with a deep, innate knowing.

Yes. That’s what you were feeling. The near uncontrollable need to bare down. An old, predetermined instinct washed over you. You could do this.

But you did not want to do it alone.

“Sil.”

The grit of his name and the way you shifted yourself forward spurred your partner into understanding. Swiftly, he stood, deposited Jinx onto the stool he’d vacated, and then stepped into the tub, sliding in behind you. Settling against his chest, your hand ferociously intertwined with his. His heart beat firmly against your back.

“You can do this,” he whispered into your ear.

“Give me your other hand, dear,” the midwife said. You did so and she guided it under the water, preparing you to feel and catch. “Push.”

“Push! Push!” Jinx cried, her little fists pumping and bopping in the air madly.

Gritting your teeth, you did just that. A sound you didn’t know you were capable of making burst from your lungs. When the air ran out, you slumped against Silco’s chest.

“Breath in,” the midwife demanded. You did so. “Push!”

You did again, a roar ripping from your chest. A roar that ended in a surprised yip as something into your hand.

“Again,” the midwife demanded.

And you complied, baring down with everything you had. With all the might and tenacity and power your body could exert. Another battle cry echoed off the bathroom tiles, and a solid weight slid into your hand. You ripped your other hand from Silco’s grip, and pulled a wriggling newborn from the water.

“It’s a boy!” Jinx yelled, bouncing up and down in her seat.

Her brother’s face squidged, and his pink mouth opened in an announcing wail. You joined in and pulled the babe to your chest. Silco went very still behind you, scarcely breathing. Then his hands appeared over yours, cradling the baby at your chest. Like on the night you’d taken in Jinx, he pulled his legs up around you both and held tight.

Later, once the placenta had passed (something Jinx was equally horrified and enthralled by) you were helped out of the tub, and cleaned. The midwife tied off the babe’s umbilical cord, and once some time passed, you watched with an incredibly full heart as Silco severed it.

You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen the expression on your partner’s face. A soft, careful, wonderous thing. Then it hit you all at once. You were watching Silco fall in love. The notion took your breath away and fresh tears welled in your eyes. Jinx clung to you, and you to her.

“Thank you for being with me, Jinx. It helped.”

The girl beamed up at you, holding on tighter.

“I think it is your turn for a shower, sir,” the midwife said, twisting off the umbilical nub.

Silco watched her hands like a hawk as she did. He slid in once she finished, and wrapped him in a blanket Jinx had decorated. It was a small thing, but you caught the tremor in his hands. Keeping Jinx tucked against your side, you came to stand next to him.

“He’ll be here when you get out of the shower,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“Yeah! Go get the baby juice off you!” Jinx ordered.

Silco’s expression of awe turned to one of bemusement as he glanced at your daughter.

“Yes. I suppose I should.”

Your own hands shook a bit as you gathered your son – your son! You wondered if the shock would wear off – and ushered Jinx to follow the midwife out of the bathroom.

With no small amount of effort, your body, beyond sore and exhausted, climbed into bed. The baby cooed and nuzzled and fussed against your chest as you settled into the pillows and duvet. Jinx climbed in on the opposite side, and snuggled close.

“He’s already sleeping!”

“It’s hard work being born. Don’t you remember?” you chuckled.

Jinx laughed, “No!”

A small smile curled the midwife’s mouth as she snapped her bag shut. She turned to you and bowed her head.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you said, eyes on your boy. Then you lifted them to hers, and said again, “And thank you.”

She nodded again, horns catching the light in the room.

“It was my honor.”

She gave you and the baby one last cursory check over, and took her leave.

A few moments after she left, there was a knock on the door, and Sevika stuck her head in.

“Ogre!” Jinx cried. “I gotta brother!”

Even Sevika’s presence couldn’t dampen Jinx’s mood.

Silco’s lieutenant grunted, and stepped over to the bed. She stayed at a distance though, craning her neck to peer down at you and the baby.

“Yep. That’s a baby. Congrats.”

“Thank you, Sevika.”

Behind her, Silco emerged from the foggy bathroom in a fresh pair of slacks and an unbuttoned shirt. Sevika tilted her strong chin in his direction and he nodded back.

“I’ll leave you all to it then,” she said.

Her poncho twirled as she spun back to leave. As she and Silco crossed paths, a metal finger tip whipped out from beneath the red fabric, and poked his bare belly. He jolted and shuddered. He sneered at her, but she just snickered and slipped out of the room.

Silco shook his head, damp hair beginning to curl at the ends. He rounded the bed, and climbed in, sandwiching Jinx between your bodies. He leaned over the girl’s head and kissed you.

“What’re we gonna name him?” Jinx pipped.

You and Silco exchanged a look.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted.

“I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” he added.

Immediately, Jinx began rattling off all her suggestions.

Before a name could be decided, you fell asleep. Jinx followed shortly after; her plump cheek pressed against your shoulder. Gingerly, Silco lifted the baby from your arms, and brought him to his bare chest. The boy tensed, and then melted, a small wispy sigh leaving him.

Silco melted, too; a foreign, near indescribable softness filling him up. He brought his hand to the boy’s back, its length and width nearly covering all of him. His son was so small.

His son. His son.

Emotions gripped him so intensely he nearly choked.

Elation, love, fear.

Grief.

There was grief that his child was born technically as a citizen of Piltover. But that anguish was small compared to the other one that had been tucked away in the scar tissue of Silco’s heart ever since you had told him of the pregnancy. A pain that he hated he harbored.

The secret grief was that Vander wasn’t here to see this. The grief that his Brother had ruined any chance of participating in this milestone. The grief of Vander’s death (justified though it was) was scratched open as Silco’s son lay on his heart. The grief that, had things gone differently, Silco would’ve named the boy after his Brother.

“Sil.”

Silco’s head whipped around at the sound of your voice. Your beautiful, exhausted, beautiful face shone up at him. There was a smile on your lips that he wished to taste, so he leaned over Jinx’s head again and pressed his mouth to yours. 

“I told you you could do it,” he whispered leaning back. You smiled and nodded wearily.

The baby grunted and shifted against Silco’s chest, and he pet the back of his head so, so softly. It broke your heart into a million pieces, and then they jumped right back together. Your eyes slid back up to your partner’s profile.

You felt his grief, because it was yours, too.

“I know, Silco,” you whispered. He looked over to you. Jinx snored softly between. “I wish it had been different, too.”

Silco’s eyebrow dropped, and his lips softened. He glanced down at the baby on his chest, and chuckled ruefully.

“I truly don’t know what to name him.”

You shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”

He nodded. You sat in silence for a while, listening to your children breath. Jinx’s raspy breaths and the baby’s snuffling. It was music to your ears. You would never tire of hearing it.

Just as you were about to doze again, you felt Silco’s energy shift. Eyes sharpening onto him, you watched as he first gently ran his fingers over Jinx’s freckled cheek. Then, so carefully, he lifted the baby from his chest so he could look at his small face.

“You and your sister will have better than we did,” he promised. “Me and your mother will give you a nation.”

Your son’s eyes fluttered open and closed, the bud of his mouth stretching into what looked like a small smile. Your throat tightened horribly, and you tucked your nose into Jinx’s crown.

When you were sure you could speak without choking, you lifted your head and said, “We promise.”

I hope part two scratched the itch <3 If you enjoy my work and would like to support me (firstly, THANK YOU!) check out my Ko-Fi page!

ko-fi.com/kiki13

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | December 2nd-8th 2024

We're getting so close to the end of the year!!! I'm already starting to think about the end-of-the-year rec I'm gonna do! :P

Complete

stay a little longer by oceanofchaos/ @islandoforder (S8E8: Wannabes Coda, Pre-Buddie | 2K | General): “Okay, what’s next on the agenda today anyway?” asks Eddie, pulling Buck’s legal pad closer to him to look at the checklist. “Realtor, about to check that off, email the union, oh that’s a good idea, I always forget to talk to them, lunch? Really, you put lunch on the agenda? Sure, fine. Lawyer? What’s lawyer?” Suddenly, it is impossible to look at Eddie. Buck makes a grab for the notepad, and successfully regains it. - Episode tag to 8x08 Wannabes, where Buck thinks they might as well change the will officially, and he and Eddie argue about it

nursing our wounds by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (S8E8: Wannabes, Hotshots Cameo | 2,8K | General): "Eddie, c'mon," cardboard nurse whines, practically draping himself over Eddie's back. "I didn't know they'd make me Nurse Number One." "Oh, I'm sure," Eddie scoffs, stuffing half a doughnut into his mouth at once. Casey likes him. "Hm," he hums and turns to his friend. "Not as good as yours." Cardboard nurse ducks his head and smiles, a pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks. Interesting. (OR: an exec witnesses the buckandeddie phenomenon and sees an opportunity for tv gold)

You wouldn't want it any other way by paleredheadinascifi (S8, Getting Together, Bitchy Eddie | 3K | Teen): “I’m not saying that he’s bitchy because he’s gay, I’m saying he’s bitchy,” Eddie retorts. “Like his soul is bitchy. He just also happens to be gay — it’s unrelated. I don’t think you should go. I don’t like him.” Or, Buck goes on a date with Josh. It's the worst day of Eddie's life.

we won't have a hard time (you can get what you want) by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Getting Together | 3K | Explicit): Eddie rolls his eyes, knocks their shoulders together. “What I’m saying is that you deserve someone who wants the same future you do. You want kids, Buck. You want a family. You deserve someone who would be more than happy to let you break their heart, just to get the chance to be with you.” or: another confession on the couch

supposed to be a package deal by joshwrites/ @joshwritesfics (Post-S8E8: Wannabes Coda, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): “It’s really nice. Though, I really should get a new couch,” Eddie agrees before looking down and starting to pat the couch they’re sitting on — the one that holds far too many memories for Buck to count. “A new couch?” “Yeah, I don’t want to go through the hassle of moving this. I was planning on putting it up for sale on Facebook, but I was thinking maybe you wanted it? No offense, but your couch is uncomfortable as hell.” And it’s an innocent comment — one with no underlying meaning under it — but it sends Buck on a spiral to find one anyway. or: A 8x08 coda where Buck believes in couch theory.

you could poison poison by oceanofchaos/@islandoforder (S8E5: Masks Coda, Infidelity | 4K | General): There is a constant tension headache behind his eyes that’s been there for as long as he can remember, and it gets worse every single time someone who isn’t Maddie calls him ‘Evan’. - Episode tag to 8x05 Masks, in which Buck is exceedingly aware that he is increasingly annoyed by his boyfriend.

pulling pigtails by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (S7E4: Buck Bothered and Bewildered | 5K | General): Buck is jealous. Buck is a green-eyed monster, a jilted lover, a crying kid who didn’t get a lollipop. Buck can’t even find it in him to push it down because it’s overwhelming. Eddie and Tommy are friends. That’s – fine! It’s totally fine. or: buck is jealous, and 7x04 goes a little differently

🔥I should be pushing daisies by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 5K | Teen): “I miss you so much, man,” Eddie says as easy as anything. Like those words don’t have the power to breathe life back into Buck’s body and steal that breath back at the same time. “It’s dumb but - I guess I didn’t realize how ingrained you are in my life until suddenly you weren’t there.” “I-I miss you too,” Buck manages to say, though he has no idea if he sounds normal or if he sounds like there’s an anvil on his chest. Eddie smiles at him, eyes soft and fond even on Buck’s iPad screen. “I keep looking over my shoulder to say something to you or to see if you saw something dumb someone did too, but you’re not there.” OR Eddie goes to Texas to fix things with Chris and Buck pines.

slowly sinking (i need you to think i'm alright) by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (Established Buddie, BDSM, Hurt/Comfort): Some of his hook-ups liked that Buck was so much bigger than them, even though he wasn’t nearly as bulked up as he is now back when he was having casual sex. They liked when Buck held them down, when Buck reused some phrases he remembers from porn. It was all for fun. Buck never had one of them staring up at him like Eddie is now, like he’s out of his mind. It’s uncharted territory. Buck doesn’t know where to go from here. or: Buck tries to dom Eddie.

black purple and green (i bruise easily) by oceanofchaos/ @islandoforder (S8E6: Confessions Coda | 7K | General): When he gets back to the loft, he looks around it wearily. He had only just reconciled himself to the idea of Tommy moving in, and here he is, alone again in his giant fucking loft. This is so typical. Before he can psych himself out, he pulls his phone out of his back pocket, and gets up the 118 groupchat. just so everyone knows, single again. - Episode tag to 8x06 Confessions, in which Buck talks through whether he should have known that first queer relationships are inherently doomed with his queer friends.

man against man (who's ahead in the game) by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (S8, Halloween, Infidelity | 9K | Explicit): But going alone is like—it’s a death knell. And Buck is trying, he really is, but it’s Halloween. You can’t break up with someone on Halloween. He spies Eddie walking up the stairs, totally focused on his phone. Eddie, who is also planless for the weekend barring some natural disaster or miracle of the prodigal son returning home. Eddie, who had gleefully been the Tubbs to Buck’s Crockett—because Buck is totally Crockett, okay?—without complaint. Eddie, who likes dressing up for Halloween. or: Buck wants to do a couples’ costume, and Tommy doesn’t want to do it. Eddie volunteers.

Make this Place your Home series by scarmaddiewrites (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 10K | Mature):  Eddie leaves for Texas and Buck has the worst times feeling realization in the history of romance. So he adopts a dog about it And then he gets a phone call.

🔥 go and kill, go and die by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 13/14 | 54K | Mature): The 118 are a group of survivors in a small California town in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. For months they've been isolated and safe. But the arrival of some new players, the search for some missing loved ones, will shake everything up and put their little team in jeopardy.

🔥guess i'm the fool by oceanofchaos/@islandoforder (Post-S7, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 106K | Explicit): While Chris is in El Paso, it’s Eddie’s summer of Realizing Things, such as comphet, what Buck means to him, and how to let himself be happy.

WIP

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, Divergent Post-S6 | 141/? | 454K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

there is no road by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (Post-S8A, Eddie Moves To Texas | 2/6 | 24K | Explicit): Years ago, almost a full decade, Shannon had asked him to move and Eddie refused because he was trying to build a life for himself again. Eddie knows if he asks Buck, he’ll get that same refusal. Worse, Buck could say yes and Eddie would be uprooting Buck from the very life he built for himself. He doesn’t ask, and Buck doesn’t offer, and they pack up Eddie Diaz’s life in Los Angeles into cardboard boxes. Or: Eddie moves to Texas. Buck buys his house. There’s a love story somewhere in here.

[monimccoythings]

How the other X-Men (97') would react to Logan's crush

I need more X-Men 97's Logan. Mostly Pre-established relationship. Just some rambles about some of the other X-men reacting to your mutual crushes because they are all a big family of busybodies lol.

tag: gender neutral reader (mostly)

You didn't have the best first meeting. You had accidentally drank the last of Logan's beers, and the burning anger in his eyes would take time to forget. You had felt so guilty afterwards that the next day he found a crate of imported beer in his bedroom.

When he first started developing a crush on you, Morph liked to tease him changing into you in different forms of suggestive positions wearing all kind of revealing lingerie, which made him blush. Hard. He tried to act all though pulling his claws out threateningly, but it was difficult to take him seriously when he was as red as a tomato.

He wasn't sure what started that crush, he guessed he started developing it without noticing. Maybe it was your good looks, your kind nature, your bright smile; who knew, but something about you drove him to you like a moth to a flame.

Ar first, Logan would be a bit conflicted due to his deeply rooted feelings for Jean. He felt like he was betraying her in some way, despite Jean being married to Scott. Unbeknowst to him, Jean, is one of the main supporters of his relationship with you and is always hijacking with Storm some way for you two to be together. Once, she got tired of your antics and practically psychically shoved you against him.

Storm is the chillest about it, unlike the overly enthusiastic Jean. She is very patient, she knows you'll end up together one way or another. She just has to wait. She still joins Jeans shenanigans because it's really fun.

Scott is more protective of you in a big brother way. He initially doesn't like that Logan has taken an interest in someone he had always seen as a little sibling. He knows how Logan can get, and how much he had pinned after Jean. He doesn't want him to hurt you, it would take a real genuine proof of his love for you to convince him. And something small wouldn't do, it has to be this big grand selfless gesture for him to actually believe it.

Charles, unlike Scott, thinks that you and Logan are a great match. You seem to bring the best out of each other. You calm Logan's never ending rage and Logan encourages you to be more bold and come out of your shell. You are like two puzzle pieces, you fit perfectly together.

Rogue is constantly teasing you about Logan. She has noticed how he gets more awkward when you're around, how he doesn't snark at you as much as he usually does to the others. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was being shy.

Remy is the one usually trying to give Logan advice on how to properly woo you, which usually goes ignored because of Logan's own pride and refusal to admit he has it deep for you.

Jubilee is a die-hard shipper. She gave you the most ridiculous ship name. Logan hates it. She, Storm, Remy, Rogue and Jean, usually meet up to discuss about you two like a bunch of teens. This is literally them on each meeting:

When you finally stop dancing around each other and start dating, he finds he's unable to keep his hands to himself. Watching you make breakfast, humming to yourself in an oversized T-Shirt and booty shorts that perfectly clinged to every delicious curve of your juicy ass like a second skin, put all of Logan's already thin self-control to test. Missions surveys get really awkward if he's seated next to you, his hand always finds its way to your thigh. Hank joked that he should give him 'the talk', which he took it as well as expected.

Roberto is the one who thinks 'what the hell do they see in him??'. He doesn't get how someone as cultured and kind as yourself would ever get interested in a caveman like Logan. But he keeps his thoughts to himself because he'd rather keep his head on his shoulders.

Logan may not know what started his crush, but he sure as hell knows when he realised he loved you. It wasn't a great sacrifice or something epic as anybody would expect. He just saw you doing the most mundane thing in the world, be it painting your nails, taking care of the garden, or getting to the best part of a book you've been reading. The second he saw that glint in your eyes and that joyful expression, he just knew.

[lady-djarin]

home

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: sickening fluff, established relationship, no outbreak, sarah’s alive and well, some touching and kissing between reader and joel, still adult content but no p in v. mdni

word count: 2.6k

a/n: not edited much (that’s my motto) but i just kinda dumped this out in one go so it could be bad. who knows.

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Dad!”

Ever since Sarah entered middle school she has become quite loud.

“Dad, there you are,” she barreled into the living room where you and Joel sat on the couch. “I need you to sign this.”

She pushes a piece of paper into his face along with a pen. He quints at it to read the small print. You grab it out of his hands when he tries to locate his glasses that are nowhere in sight.

“Oh the dance! How fun,” you handed it back to him and made sure he signed it as you shot Sarah a wink as she bounced happily on her toes.

You have been dating the single dad for around six months and you have grown quite close with Sarah. Joel has expressed how nervous he is about his baby girl getting older and all the things that come along with it. More than anything else he hates the idea of her dating. He signs the paper with his usual grumpy frown but does it nonetheless and in turn Sarah squeals and jumps up and down in excitement.

“Can you take me shopping tomorrow, I only have a week to shop for a dress,” Sarah put on her best puppy dog face that usually works on her father.

“I’m sorry angel I’ve got a job tomorrow,” he did look genuinely upset that he couldn’t spend the time with his daughter.

“I’ll take you, we can have a girls day,” you had been wanting to spend some one on one time with Sarah and this was the perfect opportunity.

“Oh my god, thank you!” She squealed again and jumped on you and wrapped you in a tight hug. She ran up the stairs talking mostly to herself about what kind of dress and makeup she was planning for her first dance.

“Thank you darlin’, you didn’t have to do that.” He rubbed your leg with his large warm hand and the other came up to hold your face as he kissed you tenderly.

“Oh please, I love that kid. Plus, I don’t think shopping is your forte,” you both laughed at how true that was.

Even though you’ve only been seeing Joel for a few months, you have never felt so at home. He and Sarah have welcomed you in like you were always meant to fit in their little family. You knew you were never one to have kids of your own but the young girl makes you feel more maternal than you ever have in your life.

~

You and Sarah spend the day in the mall finding stores to invade and try on every dress possible. She finally settled on a beautiful deep purple shimmery one that made her look way older than she needed to, but it was appropriate. Afterwards you found the food court and dug into some pizza and garlic knots.

“So… since your dad will never bring this up… are you going with anyone to the dance? Like maybe a boy? or girl, I don't judge.”

You knew she probably didn’t want to talk about it as pre-teens never do but you wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. Her cheeks blushed a deep shade of crimson but she giggled slightly, telling you there was someone.

“I mean… I’m not going with anyone but my friends but…”

She was avoiding telling you the truth, maybe because she thought you’d rat her out to her dad.

“Look Sarah… I'm not asking to be a snitch, I just want to make sure you’re being safe and smart, that's all.”

She looked up at you with shyness but trust in her deep brown eyes.

“There is this boy… Ben,” she had the most radiant smile on her face telling you about her crush. He’s a little older than her but in the same grade and apparently very sweet and has blue eyes and dark blonde hair. You can imagine her sitting in class staring at him instead of listening to the teacher.

“So, are you going to meet him at the dance?”

“I mean we haven’t made plans but… I told him I’d see him there, and he followed me on instagram!”

It all reminded you of the days before adult pressure and complicated feelings. You smiled as she continued to tell you about him and the things she found endearing.

“Ok now, I have to ask and be the annoying adult but have you, you know… done anything with boys before?”

While she was only just under thirteen you still had to make sure, kids do anything these days.

“Like what?” She gave you a scrunched confused face then slowly realized what you were asking. “Like kissing?! Oh no that’s gross, boys smell anyway…,” she seemed to maintain her innocence for a while longer.

Thank god.

“Well that’s fair, but just remember, if a boy ever tries to do anything you don’t like, you can always say no. Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She looked a little confused at your instruction but nodded anyway. She’s a very smart kid and strong willed, you have full faith in her.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around the mall and you both finally decided to end up getting your nails done.

~

Joel came home to find you both cooking dinner, a hoard of shopping bags littered the house.

“There’s my girls,” he ruffled his daughter's hair and covered her eyes jokingly as he kissed you deeply. “How was shopping? Successful it seems like.”

“Very…,” Joel’s eyes kept flicking down to your lips, as they often did when he got home from work.

“Dad, look! We got our nails done!” She splayed her fingers out so he could inspect her manicure. You let her get some slightly ‘grownup’ nails, small extensions with french tips. She said she’ll be the talk of the dance.

“Oh look at that… my little girl is all grown up…,” he looked a little queasy and you both laughed at his reluctance to let her grow up.

“Sarah, why don’t you put these bags away and I'll finish dinner, ok?”

She hugged you tight around your middle and mumbled about a million ‘thank you’s into the fabric of your shirt before grabbing her bags and darting up the stairs.

As soon as she disappeared Joel grabbed your hips as he stood behind you and pulled you into his hard chest. He attached his lips to your neck and ran his hands over your curves.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” His voice was low and gravely in your ear.

“Mmm, not today…”

He pulled you impossibly closer and nuzzled his mouth against your neck. “Well I do, I love you so damn much,” he continued kissing down your neck and any skin he could reach. “Sarah loves you too you know, she’s always talking about you…”

It felt like he wanted to talk about something else, something more. Your relationship has been going so well and it kind of feels like it’s time to take the next step. While you both know that this is it, there’s no one else for either of you, it might not be exactly time yet to tie the knot. However you have talked about sharing a space, the idea of living together is exciting to both of you.

“Well I love her, she’s a great kid, because you’re a great dad.” You turned in his arms and returned the kisses along his jaw. Just as you slid your hands into his back pockets, loud very teen sounding footsteps came racing down the stairs. You pulled away from each other but Sarah was too busy looking at her nails to notice. The timer on the oven beeped and as Joel and his daughter set the table you gathered the rest of dinner.

You sat around the table like you always did on Saturday nights and talked about the plans for the next week and the dance. You really did love your little found family.

~

The following Saturday you sat in Sarah’s room with her and a couple friends of hers, helping do their hair and makeup. Joel happened to have a poker game tonight with Tommy so he said bye just before the teen girl screaming got too loud. So here you were, a fully grown woman essentially playing dress up with a few 13 year olds. But you couldn’t be happier.

After the girls were ready and a lengthy photoshoot ensued, you were off. Four screaming voices all trying to harmonize to some pop song over the radio made your ears ring but seeing Sarah so happy made it worth it.

The plan was to pick her up around 10pm when it ended.

So you were super confused when you got a call from Sarah around 8:30pm.

“Hey girl, what’s going on? You ok?”

All you heard at first was a sniffle, then a deep breath before her wobbly voice came over the speaker. “N-no, not really…”

Your heart stopped for a second but you tried to stay calm.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to hide the urgency in your voice.

“Ben… he—“ hiccup “He was a… a total jerk!” Her voice was strained and scratchy like she had been crying for some time.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry… You know what, you stay in the office, ok? I'm going to come get you.”

She only mumbled a quiet ‘ok, bye’ before you slammed the phone down on the receiver and grabbed your keys. You shaved off probably five to ten whole minutes speeding through the streets to the school.

You quickly make your way to the office and find her with mascara running down her cheeks. She hiccuped and sniffled when she saw you before sluggishly standing and wrapping her arms around you. She sobbed slightly into your sweatshirt and you wrapped the one you brought her around her shoulders. After the teacher who waited with her waved you out, you gathered her into your car and made your way home.

But before reaching the familiar street you had an idea. Sarah had been slumped in her seat with the sweatshirt wrapped tight to her form until she saw the neon lights. You swore you saw her eyes light up when she saw the ‘Dairy Queen’ sign and it warmed your heart.

She got her usual birthday cake flavor of course, and you got your favorite. Before now you tried to let her have a few breathing moments but as you settled in the parking lot you tried to get some information from her.

“Are you ok?”

“Boys are so stupid…,” another tear slipped out of her eye.

“I know… I hate to say it but they don’t get much better.” You managed to get a laugh out of her which was an improvement. “What did Ben do?”

She spooned the thick ice cream into her mouth and tried to talk around it. “H-he was with that girl Rebecca all night and I tried to say ‘hi’ but he ignored me and pretended I wasn’t there. They were laughing at me…,” She resolved into sobs again and you rubbed her shoulder to try and comfort as best as you could.

“Oh god I’m sorry that’s so… shitty.” You never really cursed around her as she’s still young but this felt appropriate. It also helped draw out a laugh again, which made you both smile. “Look, boys like that are not worth your time. He’s playing games and you don’t want a boy who plays games. If anyone ever talks to you like that, it means they don’t respect you. You should only be friends, or more, with someone who respects you. Does that make sense?”

She looked at you with her red-rimmed and puffy eyes and you knew she got it. Of course she got it, she’s a smart kid.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you… I'm sorry I freaked you out.” The light returned to her eyes as she giggled at her own words.

“You didn’t freak me out… too bad.” You were both laughing now, recalling the way you sped over to the school. “Look we can talk more if you want but I think you need some ‘you’ time tonight. Let’s get you some of my nice bath stuff and we can do a little spa night?”

“That sounds nice… thank you.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around your neck. On the way home you told her stories of things boys had done to you in the past. You did make sure to let her know that her dad was not one of them, he was the best kind of guy. Once you arrived home you gave her some bath stuff and gave her a clean towel and told her you’d wait downstairs for her.

You made some tea in the meantime and shortly after, Joel got home. Before he said anything he looked towards the stairs and heard the shower running. He gave you a quizzical look and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to like it.

“So Sarah had me pick her up early…”

He already looked concerned.

“She’s fine… it was boy drama. We talked and she’s still upset but she’ll live.”

He breathed out a dramatic sigh and you welcomed him into your arms.

“This is what I was worried about,” he sounded so defeated.

“Joel, it’s bound to happen. Every girl gets her heart broken, it’s inevitable unfortunately.” You rubbed your palm over his stubble and looked over his tired features. “She’s smart and strong willed. Boys will be intimidated by her when she realizes it.”

He softened at that. “Thank you for helping her so much, she really has opened up since knowing you.”

“She’s really something, just like her dad. He’s not too shabby,” you giggled as he pinched your waist.

“I’m not too shabby? That’s sweet.”

You mirrored his smile as he boxed you between himself and the kitchen counter. He kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue between your lips, tasting every inch of you. Your hum reverberated through your chest into his and your skin lit on fire from the inside out. Desire instantly pooled in your lower stomach and you ground your hips into his. This only resulted in his hard, jean clad thigh slipping between yours and pushing against your clothed sex. You moaned into his mouth and just as you felt like you were going to lose it, Joel pulls away and then you hear descending footsteps.

Sarah reaches the bottom but doesn’t come down, “I’m going to go to bed, I’m really tired. Sorry dad.”

“That’s ok angel, you sleep good. Love you.”

“Love you guys,” then she’s gone.

“‘Love you guys’?” you look at Joel with surprise. “Did she just say she loves me?”

He just stares down at you with this tender look, unresponsive for a few moments.

“Move in with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a plea. Like he couldn’t imagine you’d say no. Because why would you?

“Really?” Your heart raced.

“Yes really, we both want you here. More than anything.”

“Of course, I’d love to!” You squealed like Sarah did earlier tonight and launched yourself at him. He caught you around the middle and pulled you up, sounding giddy as you did while he spun you around.

You spent the first night in your now full time shared bed after Joel showed you all the ways he truly, passionately loved you.

You knew you were finally home.

[after-the-end-times]

Stupid Sexy Tree Trimming

Prompt: Tree 🎄 Rating: T 🎄 Words: 999 Tags: Established Relationship, Suggestive Language, Pre-Thanksgiving Christmas Tree, The Party shenanigans, The Inherent Intimacy of Tree Trimming @steddieholidaydrabbles Ao3

“Ok, who’s gonna be my fluffer?”

Eddie pauses with the front door still open, dried leaves blowing in on the fall wind, and blinks at what he just heard his boyfriend say from the other room. He has to imagine it’s not what it sounded like, so he just shuts the door and drops his bag and jacket by the coat closet.

“I’ll get your balls!”

Now that brings him up short, because Jonathon has who’s what?! What’s he even doing here? Didn’t Steve say they were gonna have a nice, quiet evening in?

“Ugh no. You’re not fluffing right. Here watch this. You grab here and pull up, down, over. And then repeat that. Up, down, over. Up, down, over. See? Much better.”

Well, now this is getting ridiculous, because what is Jonathon and Nancy doing here? And doing something that involves fluffing, grabbing, pulling...and balls?

Eddie finally makes it down the hall and turns the corner to see...a mess. That’s what they’re all doing here: making a giant mess that’s taking up every surface of the room.

And at the heart of the mess is Steve.

Well, Steve and half a tree?

Eddie gives an impressed whistle at the display, startling several of the kids who are sitting on the floor with piles of old newspaper and ornaments around them,

Steve looks up at him and his face lights up.

Oh yeah, Eddie will never get tired of that. Definitely one of his Top 5 Favorite Steve Faces™

“Eddie! You’re back early!”

Not one of his top 5 favorite phrases though. That one always means someone’s up to something.

“Yeeeeah, sooo. What’s going on here? And why is that tree naked?” He says pointing at the limbless tree trunk Steve’s standing next to.

“Oh! Ha, yeah. It’s our Christmas tree!” he gestures toward the tree and then to the kids bickering on the floor, “The kids came over and then one thing led to another and I was dragging the box down from the attic and they were pulling down the boxes of ornaments and decorations and I know we were going to wait until December to decorate for Christmas but-”

“Hey hey,” Eddie gently steps through and around the kids and piles of stuff on the floor, pushing aside a huge cardboard box, “It’s fine! I was just surprised. And confused. When we talked about putting up a tree, I thought you’d want to go get a real tree. You know, chop it down and drag it home, all that.”

He made it through to the other side, Steve taking his hands so he could step over a pile of tree limbs without falling on his face.

“Nope, no real trees in this house.” He starts taking the limbs from the pile at their feet and matching the colors on the stems to the little holes on the trunk. Eddie grabs up a handful of branches to hand them one by one to Steve.

He continues, “My parents used to get a huge real tree before I was born and even when I was little, but after a few years they realized it was the tree giving me terrible sinus infections every winter. So they got this tree and I’ve had healthy Christmases ever since!” he huffs out a chuckle, “They also realized it was a lot cleaner without the pine needles falling everywhere and no one had to climb under the tree to water it. So a win win for everyone!”

“Huh, didn’t know you had tree allergies.” He says as Robin hands him a pile of fresh properly fluffed branches. He hands a few to Steve and starts adding his own to the little slots.

Humming to himself, he blithely continues, “We’ll have to invest in one of these for our place then. Only happy, breathable Christmases for us!”

Steve sucks in a breath, “Our place?”

Silence rings out from behind him. Eddie turns to see the older teens gathering up the kids, Robin trying to stay behind and getting bodily shoved out by Nancy and Jonathon.

“What?” Eddie turns back to see Steve gazing at him, eyes shining.

“You wanna move in together? Have Christmases together? Even though we’ve only been dating a month?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you?”

And there it is again, quickly becoming his #1 Favorite Steve Face™, that light beaming from his wide smile and scrunched up eyes, all right before he picks Eddie up and spins him in a tight circle.

“Yesyesyes, of course!”

They come to a stop and Steve presses a hard kiss against his mouth, Eddie softens it holding his jaw gently. He slowly pulls away to rest his forehead against Steve’s. They can’t stop grinning and softly laughing.

“Can we come back now!”

“Are you getting engaged!”

“I still have your balls!”

“Ew! Stop saying that!”

Laughing, Steve pulls back to yell back, “Yes! Come back in! No! We’re not engaged!” he catches Eddie’s eyes and whispers, “Someday?”

Eddie presses his own hard kiss against Steve’s lips, backing up far enough to whisper, “Someday. Also. Why does Jonathon keep talking about your balls?”

Steve throws his head back, cackling.

“Christmas baubles,” He gets out through a laugh. “Mike hates it, so Jonathon thinks it’s hilarious.”

“Oh, I need to get in on that.” He pecks a kiss on Steve’s lips before turning around, throwing an arm out in proclamation. “I get to hold Steve’s balls next! Hand them over Jon, you’ve had them long enough. They’re officially mine now, almost engaged and everything!”

Mike glares from his spot on the floor. “Stop. You’re not funny.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Steve?”

“So funny, baby,” Steve wraps an arm around him, speaking low in his ear. “But, maybe we finish this tree now and then you can handle some other baubles later?”

Turning in his arms. he leers, “Oh Stevie, I can’t wait to trim your tree tonight. But this time? I get to be the fluffer.”

[chrysalind]

last chance

pairing: kuroo tetsurou/reader wc: 860 tags: pre-relationship, fluff, high school setting (third year), bad flirting, kuroo is really trying

"What'd you get for number 8?" Kuroo asks as he leans over you.

"Umm," you tilt your head and the golden light of the late afternoon sun flickers across your cheek. "I think I put down 1868 to 1912."

"Wait, seriously?" He claps his hand on his forehead. That's five questions he's probably got wrong now, not to mention he'd barely finished writing his second essay, meaning the maximum possible grade he could get is...

"I hate history," he grumbles, trying to redirect his train of thought from its depressing destination. "I'm never taking it in university."

You sigh ruefully. "I feel the same way about chemistry. The moment I walked out of yesterday's exam, every piece of knowledge about thermodynamics just—" you wave your hand near your temple, "—vanished."

"Bet you're glad I gave you my notes though, right?"

The train doors slide open and a crowd of students from another school shuffle in. His legs brush against yours as he tries to make more room around him.

"Only because I gave you my English notes," you counter dryly, moving your bookbag onto your lap as a freckled teen slides into the seat beside you. The small plastic Keroppi charm on its side swings erratically against your thigh.

"A more than fair trade," he reasons. "Especially since I was getting the highest mark in chem, while you were just below Takaichi in English."

"Takaichi's mom is from New Zealand," you reply, with a roll of your eyes. "He's been practically fluent since he was born. Plus, your handwriting sucks, so you get points taken off for that."

Kuroo snorts, but has no choice but to concede. After all, he can barely read his own notebooks from last semester.

He watches as the Tokyo cityscape rushes past, still thrumming with life, even as the sun dips low in the sky. It's hard to imagine an afternoon where he won't be packed into the subway at this time, with his loosened Nekoma uniform tie around his collar, and your occasional company on the afternoons he's able to catch you at the school entrance.

His short spell of mourning is interrupted by the announcer as the train pulls into a familiar station. You both exit onto the platform and make a beeline towards the escalators.

"I'm not staying in Tokyo," he says, as you're halfway through the barriers.

Keroppi's face smacks against your zipper as you pause. "Oh?"

"I'm going to Osaka," he continues, weaving through the crowd. You fall into step beside him and there's a second in which Kuroo thinks he's vastly overestimated his importance in your life.

"That's..." He watches as a crease forms between your brows. "I thought you were going to Tokodai."

"Nah," he says, re-adjusting the strap of his bag. "I think it'd be good to gain some independence, you know?"

"Right," you say, tucking your Suica away. The sound of the city fills in the quiet that follows as you step out of the station.

Truthfully, Kuroo had been hoping for something—anything—more than the pensive silence that now settles between the two of you as you both walk the last few blocks of your high school era. But as you round the corner, the weight of the moment only grows heavier.

From his peripheral vision, he can tell you're sulking with your lips turned down in a pout that you probably aren't even aware of. And even though you've never admitted it to anyone, he's not oblivious to the way you can barely hold his gaze for more than two seconds, or how you linger at the intersection when you part ways.

"You know," he says, as you both stand before a crosswalk, "this is probably your last chance."

Your eyes flash up at him.

"What do you mean?"

He straightens up.

"Your last chance to admit that you're in love with me," he blurts. He had meant for it to come out a bit smoother, maybe aiming for a kind of teasing tone, but something had gone horribly wrong in the last second. Embarrassingly, he feels his own cheeks grow hot at the boldness of his declaration.

The crosswalk indicator changes, but you're both frozen in place.

You blink, looking absolutely bewildered, and he begins to fear that he's broken you.

And then an odd sound emerges from your mouth—a short snicker, followed by an open burst of laughter. Your giggle seems to carry over the noise of the traffic around you and Kuroo tries very hard not to die right then and there.

Instead, he forces himself to laugh along. How could he have miscalculated so bad?

He's sure he'll remember this moment for many sleepless nights ahead.

"Don't worry," you say later with the world's most bemused smile, as you near his building. "It's not my last chance."

Kuroo works up the courage to look you in the eye.

"After all, I still have our graduation ceremony."

[steviewashere]

Welcome Home

Rating: Teen and Up Pairing: Steve Harrington & Wayne Munson, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson CW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse (Not Graphic But Prevalent), Referenced Period Typical Homophobic Slur(s), Referenced Drug Use (Recreational Use of Marijuana) Tags: Post-Canon, Post Vecna, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Wayne Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Wayne Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Steve Harrington has Bad Parents, Coming Out, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington Gets a Hug, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Al Munson is a Bad Person

Read the content warning!!

🫂—————🫂 He knows the person he wants isn’t home. But Steve can’t afford to stall any longer. If he continues to wait out in his car, it’ll probably be towed, and he’ll be arrested, and he won’t have the person he needs to bail him out. It’s not like he can just turn the car around, though; make his way back home.

Home doesn’t even exist anymore. It took one night where he thought he was alone, because he was always alone, for them to come back and see him. See him with another boy. Not experimenting, because he knows damn well who he is. But making semblance of love, because he’s been desperate enough for it his entire like. Now that he had it, or something as close to it as he can get from a late night cruising pull, it’s even farther away.

Yeah, maybe he should’ve rain checked. Maybe he should’ve bought out a motel room for the night. Maybe he should’ve just entertained himself with his own hand and the wrinkled magazines that Eddie smuggled for him.

Speaking of Eddie, he’s not here. His government replaced van isn’t parked outside the new Munson’s trailer. Only Wayne’s is. And he’s not sure if he’s ready to face another adult. He is an adult, he knows this, but sitting behind the big wheel of his car—his hands look like they belong to a child and looking at himself in the rearview mirror, it’s like matching gazes with ten year old him; wide-eyed, afraid, and forced against his will.

He is afraid. And maybe he should just let himself feel that. But he doesn’t have the time or the energy or the gall. So he shuts his engine off, hauls an old duffel bag over his shoulder, and makes the arduous journey that is the thirty second walk up the front steps.

Knocking, he swallows his pride. Every part of him is lost and disorganized. He didn’t style his hair. And he couldn’t grab his belt from where it had been kicked under his bed in panic. His shoes are untied. There’s also a large hickey at the base of his neck, unhidden by the stretched collar of some ratty maroon t-shirt he thought he tossed years ago. It’s stark against him in the reflection of the nearest window. He can also catch the dark bruises left on his biceps—grabbed by his dad when he tried to make an initial escape. Maybe he should’ve risked the arrest.

The doors open rather quickly, though. And through the screen, a plume of smoke pools over him from—what smells like—a stale joint. Wayne Munson stands on the other side with tired eyes and a pinched mouth. He’s dressed down in flannel pajamas and has that joint between his fingers. All his movements are slow as he takes Steve in.

“Eddie’s not home right now,” he states instead of offering a greeting. “Is there something I can do you for?” His eyes dip low from Steve’s. Following down the stretch of his neck, where it’s tense and rigid, over that hickey. Pauses momentarily. And then continues to look around, over, down—right up until he notes the bruises on Steve’s arms. “You…Uh…You making a runaway from a bad date, kid?”

Steve swallows. It stings a bit, though not from the hickey. When he closes his eyes to gather his words, he can almost feel the hand around his throat—the wedding ring cold over his wanted bruise, but the red hot spray of spit over his forehead. All as he cowered against his bedroom wall, tense to the floor he stood on, praying that his dad would make it quick.

He’s shaking, he knows. Trembling something minute that, hopefully, Wayne won’t pick up on. “Good evening, Mr. Munson,” Steve greets quietly, voice quaking. “I—I’m sorry to intrude, but I don’t know…There’s nowhere else I can go right now.” He peels his eyes open and peeks up through the screen door. Wayne’s eyes are the size of saucers when they lock stares. He hefts the bag over his shoulder higher, there’s a warm ache through his upper back. Slammed against the wall; remember, he reminds himself.

The screen opens wide and Wayne gestures over to the couch. “Leave your stuff by the door, kid.”

He steps through, plops his bag by the small breakfast nook, and chucks his sneakers to mingle with the pile. Then, he just stands in the doorway. Wayne’s off of his right shoulder. Towering over him a bit, but warm and solid. Steve knows he doesn’t have to be afraid, yet something in him skitters when Wayne’s left hand rests gently on his lower back. “Have a seat,” Wayne murmurs, “you’re shaking like a leaf.”

Acknowledging, without words to say, Steve nods. He shuffles over to the sofa and sits on the farthest cushion on the right, where he tends to settle when he comes over.

“You eat?” Wayne asks.

“No,” Steve mutters, “my dad didn’t give me enough time.”

“You like pepperoni on your pizza?”

Steve nods. “Anything except mushrooms, sir.”

“Wayne,” he says softly over his shoulder, “that’s my name and you wear it out all you like. I ain’t your daddy.” Steve just grunts in response, watching warily as Wayne orders them some food.

When he’s done, Wayne faces him again, leaning against the edge of the dining table. His joint has long since been put out, resting warm in the ashtray on the same table. Steve leans forward on his cushion, hands dropped between his knees. His hair falls limp in front of his eyes, but he doesn’t care. Nothing matters now, does it?

“I’ll only be here a night, promise.” His shoulders hunch inwards. That ache back and persistent. And he knows wherever he sleeps, be it on the floor or the sofa or even in the grass outside, he’ll just wake up hurt. More than just physically. “I know that there really isn’t space for me here and I…I don’t know. I’m not expecting you to take me in just because I get myself in messes.”

For a moment, the room stretches with silence. Going diagonal with the former words.

Then, Wayne takes a deep breath. Shuffles over to a dining chair. And plops down, watching. “You mind telling me what happened?” He asks gruffly, though not pessimistically. “If you’re in trouble, I can only let you stay here a night.”

“Depends on what you view as trouble, Wayne.”

Wayne narrows his eyes, twisting his mouth. His left hand rests on the surface of the table, fingers stretched towards the ashtray and the discarded lighter next to it. “Illegal shit. Anything that gets you in trouble with that Powell bastard. Not including weed. That’d make me a hypocrite, and that’s one thing I ain’t.”

Again, Steve nods his agreement, the acknowledgement. He fidgets with the tips of his fingers. Nails digging into the fatty parts, turning them white with pressure. “I didn’t do anything illegal, swear. Just did something stupid.” Warily once more, he eyes Wayne. “How do you feel about Reagan?”

“That man can rot in hell for all I care.”

He chuckles, despite everything. Then, he takes a sobering breath. “I had a…I picked up a boy tonight. Because I wanted to have—We were going to have sex, to put it simply, Mr. Munson. And I took him to my room, thinking I’d be alone for the rest of the night…”

“And you weren’t,” Wayne states, not asking. What questions need to be asked to an admittance like that? Steve nods, mouth pinched and eyes shiny. “I’m guessing your folks came home.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers just loud enough to be heard. “I must’ve made a…noise loud enough to be heard downstairs. And my dad had just come home. And he…maybe the boy also made a noise, I don’t know. But one thing came after the other, and the next thing I knew my dad had gripped me on my arms and threw me against the wall and I thought he was going to kill me dead right in my own room and he was spitting about…he called me a-a fag and a fairy and I…

“I didn’t fight back. I didn’t speak. I was so scared. I am scared, Wayne,” Steve admits, voice trembling and his nose burning. “All I could do was take it.”

Carefully, Wayne extracts himself from his seat and situates himself on the coffee table. Right in front of Steve. “Where all did he hurt you, Steve?”

He swallows, remembering. “My arms,” he mutters, pointing, “and my neck and…he dropped me down on the ground and while I was reaching for my shirt, he got me on the ribs.” Narrowly, he misses Wayne’s furious gaze. Instead, he finds a shiny blank spot between mugs on the far wall. “He was so furious he didn’t even take his dress shoes off by the door,” he meekly states, “and he didn’t stop until my mom screamed at him to at least let me grab some of my stuff. She told him it wouldn’t be worth it, and I quote, ‘to murder our son.’ He told her that I wasn’t his, but he let me leave.” 

He’ll never thank his mom for that, but at least she granted him grace. Though, she didn’t look pleased either. Her face set and jaw clenched. He knows that if she had the chance, when he wasn’t in earshot, she would’ve said the exact same thing as his dad. Steve withers further at the thought, if that’s even possible.

“I’m just lucky that I’m not dead, right?” He adds a moment later, face wet with tears and throat thick with grief.

Wayne sharply inhales. “You’re safe here,” he says lowly, “just as Eddie is. You’ll forever be safe here, I promise you that.”

Steve’s eyes cut back to him. That ferocity in his gaze like a warm blanket over Steve’s shoulders, something he can cling onto and believe. “You know about him?”

“You’re not the first kid to run here from their daddy,” Wayne utters.

Something in Steve’s stomach twists slowly. His chest crackling with those words. Remembers when Eddie Munson was out of school for a week in eighth grade. When he came back: long sleeves in late May, hair shaved close to his scalp, heavy eyes, and new silver scars over his knuckles.

“I’m not…”

“Eddie would never cut his hair voluntarily,” Wayne states, voice grim.

Steve looks down at his lap, fingers picking nervously at each other. He murmurs, “I’m safe here,” but more of a reminder to himself. He’s not sure if he’s had a promised safety in years. All the stuff with Vecna and the Upside Down and now his dad—which never started with tonight; it had been growing to that, always something small like a slap to the wrist or a dull smack to the back of his head, but his life had never been almost choked out of him. He never feared, just always worried.

God, he always worried. And now here he is, trembling with his tail between his legs.

The silence stretches between them after that. Wayne gets up at some point to pay for the pizza, gather a couple plates, even relight his half-gone joint. And in the time it takes him to sit back down on the sofa with the food, Eddie comes back.

He tumbles through the door, a thousand words spilling out of him, coat hanging off of his elbows, and one shoe already stepped out of. He’s a whirlwind of movement and thing after another after another. But then he spots them on the couch; Wayne eating slowly and Steve curled nervously, face turned away from the door. “Aw man,” Eddie drawls. “Sharing pizza and weed without me? You guys always have all the fun when I’m not here.”

“Ed,” Wayne mutters, “we need to have a conversation, alright?”

Steve peers over, just as Eddie’s eyes widen.

“Did I…Is it something I did?” Eddie murmurs, voice falling meek. “Is everything okay?”

He can’t help but try to hide further. Flinching into himself, eyes closing on their own accord, cheeks flushed, and lips trembling. Tries to pinch the bridge of his nose, but he’s already opened the waterworks once tonight—they’re not going to close up again just from this. He looks to Wayne, eyes pleading for him to explain. He’s so tired of having to digest this, let alone regurgitate it.

“Come sit in my chair, Ed,” Wayne says, gesturing to the brown chair near the window. He waits until Eddie does what he’s told, sitting slowly and looking at them with his too big, concerned eyes. His eyebrows raise, even Steve can make that out through his blurry vision, waiting for some sort of explanation. “Okay, I need you to listen and not ask questions. No interruptions unless I ask you to respond, you got that?”

“Wh—Yeah, Wayne. I’m all ears; you’re freaking me out.”

Wayne nods gently, his left hand out in a placating manner. “You remember, I mean you most definitely do, but do you remember when you had to come here all those years ago?” He asks softly. Eddie acknowledges by nodding, nothing more. “Steve is going through something similar,” he explains gently, “and I’m letting him stay. If you want to know the specifics, that’s something that you’ll have to hear when Steve’s ready, got it?”

Eddie inhales slowly. His face gaining that same furious ferocity that Wayne’s had. But then he looks to Steve and all the hard features of his face soften. Back to something familiar and warm and homely. “Stevie?” He ventures. “You okay?”

He shrugs. Answers thickly, “I don’t know.” His cheeks wet with more tears and he roughly wipes them away with a shaking hand. “I don’t…I thought they loved me? Even just a little bit.”

Warmth crowds him as Wayne lays a firm arm over his upper back, hand wrapping around his right shoulder, just missing his bicep. “Eddie? Why don’t you clean up a bit in your room for his stuff? Get some new sheets on your mattress, too. Think he could use a sleepover, that alright?”

“Course,” Eddie answers almost instantly, voice soft and calm. “I’ll set out some pajamas, too, Stevie. You want a sweatshirt or a t-shirt?”

Steve sniffs and swallows heavily. “Sweatshirt, please.” 

Slowly and carefully, Eddie comes over towards the couch. He places a gentle hand on the back of Steve’s head. Thumb running up and down at the base of his skull. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “we’ve got you now, though.” And with that, Eddie retreats to his bedroom, the door clicking softly behind him. The rustle of things being moved around ever apparent through the thin wood.

Wayne clears his throat and pulls Steve in a little closer, tighter. He says close to Steve’s ear, “We love you here, you got that? You have no reason to hide yourself or sneak around or try and fit yourself in a box.”

He nods minutely. “M’kay,” he mutters, “I’ll try and find another place soon, I promise. I just don’t have the money—“

“Nonsense,” Wayne states steadfast, “this is your home now. And I won’t have it any other way.” He pulls back just enough to make them lock eyes again. The air smells of grease and weed and Irish Spring. Amber light flooding around them and dim enough to not hurt his head. Everything around him is soft, gentle. It feels like home. Wayne holds him by the shoulders, firm but not suffocating. “Don’t tell Eddie I said this,” he whispers, “but he doesn’t shut up about you. He’d kill me if I didn’t let you stay and I’d beat myself up about it. As long as you stay true and playful with my boy, then you’re my boy, too. You hear me?”

Steve’s eyes blur again and his nose stings and he wishes that he could stop crying, but this is nice. The warmth and the love and the tenderness. He could burn alive from it and still be grateful. It’s so much better than the lonely, cold sprawl of his parents’ house. A house he never thought he’d leave.

“I hear you,” he musters.

“Good,” Wayne murmurs. “Why don’t you go use up some of the hot water and take as long of a shower as you want? I’ll get your things into Eddie’s room and—don’t tell that Powell bastard at the station—but I’ll roll something for you, if you want it.”

Despite everything, Steve finds himself laughing from his belly and smiling enough to ache his cheeks. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. “Warning, though, I’m really annoying when I’m high.”

“Then annoying you’ll be,” Wayne gets out around a chuckle. “And keep smiling, boy. You ain’t got a thing to worry or fear here. Even if your daddy comes running on over, I’ll make him leave just as fast with his tail between his legs, swear it.”

His smile relaxes to something soft, a ghost of a thing. He leans forward and hesitantly wraps his arms around Wayne, relishing in the hug that he gets in return. “Thank you,” he says, muffled into Wayne’s pajama shirt, “think you literally saved my life tonight.”

“You’re a good kid, Steve,” Wayne murmurs, “you’re always welcome in my home.”

He knows he’s crying again, a gentle and silent thing into Wayne’s shoulder. And yet, despite everything, he’s lighter.

Later, he tells Eddie all that happened and is held close, a hand in his hair and fingers tracing over his trembling shoulders. Later, Wayne will make a grand breakfast spread to celebrate new family. And even later, Wayne’ll crack a joke about no funny business while he’s sleeping. But Steve will know, through the tired and playful glint in Wayne’s eyes, he’s all too happy that Steve and Eddie figured themselves out.

For now, though, Wayne hands him a clean, soft towel. It’s dark green and well loved. And he knows, too, that his soul will eventually look just like that. And just like the towel, he soaks it all up. Including the warm, “Welcome home, son,” Wayne says before he closes the bathroom door.

🫂—————🫂

[marsprincess889]

Ok so I'm back to bringing you guys' attention to what's going on in my country.

I don't have the heart to tell it all in detail. In truth we're all so familiar with it that talking about it seems comical. But to keep you up to date, there have been massive protests in Tbilisi, Georgia since late November.

On 25th of October of this year, the Georgian Dream party falsifies yet another election and on the 26th of november elects themselves as the ruling party again, despite EU, most of the other nations and all the other parties recognizing the elections as illegitimate. Recently they chose their new president, who was basically the only option. The photo of the literal bulletin from the parliament leaked.

People demand another election, a fair one. Peaceful protests soon turned into police beating up the protestors, even teens and women. They're still using water cannons mixed with pepper spray, in December btw. You can look up the videos, even on here.

The main thing that is painful to me and my generation in all of this is the fact that this is a completely new, modern and different version of the same damn fight. Right now I'm thinking of young men and even women and others who were severely beaten up, about people struggling to make ends meet who have their loved ones in such situations, young people trying to build their future who see less and less hope every day in their homeland but are desparately trying to hold on to the last tiny bit of it, maybe even goimg to protests in that state. Today I heard two girls around my age talking. "We gotta get out of here right?..." "yeah... but who are we leaving it to?" "The country?..."

Being free and sovereign in your homeland should not be an uphill battle or a luxury.

We have been fighting against Russian influence for centuries. For those who don't know, even when the repression isn't obvious, they still attack bit by bit(killing or kidnapping our citizens near the occupated borders??????), often with an old and tried tactic: trying to erase our culture and history, and with it our spirit and identity. And with all the other horrors, this is a huge insult.

My heart sinks everytime I read a random comment on a map or other type of video saying "Georgia is not Europe", "but Georgia is Asia". Not that there's anything wrong with Asia, but those statements mean something different and much deeper than an average foreigner suspects. Georgia never ever was "not Europe" to me. This isn't even about joining EU immediately as much as it is about us voicing our own wishes, opinions and truth as the vast majority of our country.

One thing I want to say to people who are far away from this is this: please do not fall for propaganda. And by that I mean Russian propaganda. If you just try to keep it clean while posting about us or checking sources while reading about us and calling out misinformation, it is going to mean a lot.

I tried to not write about this cause let's be honest, what can I do here?

I hope this will do at least something.

I do have followers so, I'm also asking them🤍🤍🤍 even those who just know me from astrology. Please consider reading and reblogging. 🤍🤍

reblogging(esp with tags) is still support.

Edit, additional info that you should probably know: Georgian Dream is a pro-russian government, they just banned wearing masks and goggles(those protect you from pepper spray by the way). If you walk by the parliament in Tbilisi your eyes and skin will almost definitely start to "burn" and you'll most likely start coughing.

There have been phone numbers calling and cursing at/insulting/threatening citizens, even pre-teens, believe it or not. And since the government passed "the russian law" earlier this year, we are most likely being tracked😐

Here is my post from this spring, written in an angry and tired state.

[splishfish]

Prep (NSFW)

Tomura Shigaraki x AFAB Reader

Tags: Oral (F. Recieving), spit, Pre-Established Relationship, Slightly Inexperienced Shigaraki

WC: 654

Should I write longer one-shots? Let me know!

Lewd slurping noises echoed through the room, soft, low moans following immediately after. The room was dark, aside from the bright tv in the background playing a random movie. 

Tomura slurped your arousal, his inexperienced tongue swirling around your hole before dipping inside, attempting to lick deeper inside. His hands grasped at your ass, fondling the soft skin as he spread your cunt wider. “Fuck…stop paying so much attention there and suck my clit…” Your voice was hoarse, your hands gripping the sheets above your head as you closed your eyes. Tomura grunted, pulling away as he spoke. “If you’re gonna keep complaining, i’m leaving.” “I wouldn’t complain if you listened and did it right.” He frowned, staring down at your glistening cunt. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy this, he loved hearing your pretty moans, and he loved the taste of your slick cunt, but he was never good with foreplay. No matter what he did, you always complained about how little he ‘prepped’ you. Whatever that meant. 

A sigh escaped your lips, and you murmured softly.

“Okay, lets try again…” He grunted before nodding, bringing one of his hands up to peel back the small hood above your clit, exposing the cute button. He massaged your thigh, his eye locked onto your clitorus. “What do you want me to do?” “Pay attention to my clit. That’s where I feel really good. If you’re gonna tongue fuck me, I need you to rub my clit while you do it.” He hummed, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to your clit before licking it. He heard your shuddering exhale, taking it as a sign of approval. He wrapped his lips around your clit, his tongue dragging across it in slow strokes. His hands went up to press your thighs closer to your chest, your sweet moans echoing in his ears. “Yes…just like that baby…” He sucked your clit in response, smirking with confidence as he heard your sharp gasp. He could feel his chin being soaked in your fluids, pulling away to wipe it off before bringing his fingers to your cunt, spreading it to stare at your hole. “What’re you doin…?” “I can see your pussy juice come out.” “What are you, a horny teen? Don’t call it tha- aaoooohhh fu-ck..” He leaned back down, his mouth closing down on your puffy folds. He slurped your fluids again, his tongue lapping up every inch of your essence. He brought up one of his hands, pulling the hood of your clit again before rubbing it in circles. He could feel your hips buck into his mouth, your moans growing louder. “Yeah…fuck yeah, thats how you do it baby…” He grunted, pulling away to spit on your clit. He felt your body jolt in surprise, his thumb rubbing his spit against your throbbing clit. “F-Fuck, where’d you learn that?” “Porn.” “Are you serio-ooahhssss..Ngh~!” A small squeal escaped your lips as he dove back down, shoving his tongue inside your hole. His free hand massaged your thighs, feeling your legs shake. Though he couldn’t tell if it was from pleasure or the position he had you in. He’ll assume it's from pleasure. As he heard you get louder, your hips messily grinding against his face, he glanced up at her through his messy blue locks, his red eyes taking in every inch of pleasure. He watched your mouth open and close, your eyebrows furrowing in pleasure, your nose scrunching up as you gasped for air.

“Oh god im-!”

He felt your orgasm before you could finish speaking, your walls closing down on his tongue, your fluids spilling into his mouth in a small gush. He gently rubbed your clit as your rode your high, pulling away when you tugged at his hair. His face was slick with your orgasm, and he stared down at you as you panted.

“Can we have sex now?”

“...Fine.

Did you enjoy this? Check out my Masterlist for more!

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Summer Lovin'

Steve Harrington x Reader (smut)

Word Count: 2,429

The blazing heat of the Hawkins' summer sun becomes too much for Steve to bear, especially when he's got you in his pool looking like every inch of his filthiest fantasies come to life.

Warnings:Smut, Steve fantasising about the reader, masturbation, hand-jobs, confessions of love, little bit of cutesy romantic fluff (I couldn't help it sorry!!) Don't hesitate to let me know if I've missed something that you want tagged!

Steve Harrington Masterlist // Masterlist

It wasn’t unusual for everyone to be gathered at the Harrington’s sprawling house, to take advantage of the sizable pool in their back garden when the midday sun of an Indiana summer became too much to bear. You and Robin wasted no time in jumping straight in, whilst Eddie laid back with his dark shades covering his eyes as he lazily floated on inflatable sun-lounger, completely unbothered by yours and Robin’s antics. The younger kids all took it in turns to dive into the pool to see who could make the biggest splash. Yes, with George and Bridget Harrington away, no-one was here to stop their only son inviting whoever he wanted to his house. Without the disapproving glare and sneer of his judgy parents, looking down at him for the company he chose to keep, Steve was free.

But what he forgot to factor in was that in inviting you over for a pool party, he would be forced to look at you in your swim-suit, and suddenly the little crush on his childhood best friend that he had been nursing for the better part of his pre-teen years and beyond, was a lot harder to ignore than it ever had been before. 

It was wrong of him to want you as badly as he did. Wrong of him to think of you in his most solitary moments of pleasure, you were his best friend for crying out loud! The person who had been there for him through everything, thick and thin. And yet he couldn’t help himself as he secretly watched you from behind his dark sunglasses from the comfort of his stretched out sun-lounger. Watching as you innocently splashed around in his pool with Robin. From the way the water droplets rolled over your sun-warmed skin, to how your matching floral two-piece bikini hugged your curves so perfectly, even down to the ever so enticing way that ties of your bikini’s strings were practically calling out to him, daring him to be the one to untangle the knot, to reveal every inch of soft skin. 

His ears are treated to the high-pitched squeals of laughter that if he thought about it enough could almost imagine that they were squeals of pleasure, keening whines that would tumble from your kiss-bitten lips, and there isn’t one part of him that doesn’t wish that it was him that could be the one to pull those sounds from you.

He prayed to whatever gods that were listening that the bulge of the semi he was beginning to sport was not as painfully obvious as what he felt it was. Strategically placing the long-ignored book he had been reading over the crotch of his swimming trunks, better to be safe than sorry right?

For lack of a better word Steve Harrington was well and truly fucked. 

“Hey Dingus! What are you doing all the way over there? It’s your pool, why don’t you get in?” Robin shouts.

“I'm alright Rob,” he shouts back before speaking up once more. “Actually I'm going to head in, I think we're running low on drinks, don’t wait up for me okay?” He says, nodding his head towards the cooler box of beers sitting on the garden table.

They weren't running low on drinks, far from it actually, if the fully stacked cooler was anything to judge by, but Steve had to get away. Perhaps he could slip inside, race to his bedroom, get himself off quickly and be back before anyone would be any the wiser.

All he knew was that his growing erection was about to be a much larger problem if he didn't act soon.

“Did Steve seem off to you, or is it just me?” you ask, turning to Robin.

“No, he was definitely acting weird. Who knows what goes on in that boy’s mind.” She chuckles with a dismissive shake of her head.

“I think I’m just going to go check up on him, see if he’s okay.” you say to Robin, pushing up on the pool’s edge before grabbing your towel and wrapping it around yourself off and heading inside in search of your best friend.

Steve hot-foots it up to his room where he slams the door behind himself with a hurried huff of breath.

Reaching down, Steve pulls the waistband of his swim trunks down just enough to free his straining erection from its confines. He brings his open palm up to his lips before spitting crudely in his hand, and reaching down to glide his spit-slick fist over himself in a costing stroke over the length of him. A shuddering moan falls from his lips as his hair falls down over his eyes, squeezing himself with a light pressure when he reaches the sensitive head of his cock.

With his cock in his hand, Steve’s thoughts, as they often did in these moments, turned to you. He thought about you and how pretty you looked in your bikini, the way the wet fabric clung to every soft curve, the way your tits were pushed together so enticingly, and how the golden glow of the hot august sun shone down on your skin. He couldn’t help but think about how you and how perfect you would look on your knees for him, eagerly awaiting the feel of his pre-cum glazed tip tracing your lips. 

You wander around the Harrington’s spacious kitchen, only to find it empty. Weird Steve said he was getting drinks, he should be here. Your feet carry you further into the house, quickly poking your head into the living room door, only to find it empty. 

Steve must have gone upstairs, so you follow suit, but as you reach the last few steps you can’t help but hear a strange noise coming from Steve’s room. You make it outside his room, knuckles poised over the door ready to knock when you realise all too quickly that’s the deep groaning noises of pleasure coming from the other side of the door. You weren’t stupid, you knew what went on in the privacy of a boy’s bedroom, and you were about to pull away, to allow Steve the privacy he so clearly needed, but that’s when you heard it. A growled moan of your name. 

Maybe you were hearing things, maybe it was a figment of your imagination, maybe some hopelessly horny part of you was hoping to hear your name falling from Steve’s lips, but then you hear it again. 

“Yeah, you'd take me so good wouldn't you, Honey. Always teasing me, you'd be so good for me, just wish you were my girl” his voice stutters out with another moan of your name.

You push on the door, finding it unlocked as it slowly swings open and your eyes are treated to the most spectacular view of Steve sitting on the edge of his bed, his thighs spread wide and tensing whilst his fist strokes over his thick cock.

The creaking squeak of the door gives you away, causing Steve’s head to whip up and he hastily tries to pull his shorts back up, hoping to god that if he closed his eyes that this would all just be a surreal dream.

And yet when he peeks his eyes open from underneath the shaggy mess of his hair, there you are, a towel wrapped around your body, your boobs pushed up by the tightly pulled starchy fabric.

“I-uh…fuck…I can explain..I think?” Steve stumbled, as flustered words fell from his lips in an attempt to save face.

And with an equally embarrassed expression on your face, your words bubble from you as you try to explain yourself.

“You ran off and I wanted to make sure you were okay and I couldn’t find you, but then I heard you calling my name and I’m sorry I barged in on you, I really shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like this” you nervously babble.

“I just needed to clear my head…amongst other things, obviously. You just looked so pretty and I couldn’t help it.” Steve begins “I tried to think of other things, I swear, but you were all I could think about, you’re what I always think about.” and before he even realises it, Steve feels his closest guarded secret unburden from his heart. 

“Y-you…you think about me?” you stutter.

Well, if secrets are being spilled, it’s better to come out with the full truth, no holes barred.

Bridging the space between you and Steve, you sit down next to him on the edge of the bed.

��I mean I guess there’s no use in hiding it anymore, but yeah, I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time. I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us.” His voice is suddenly small and dejected, as if he’d already shook hands and made peace with the imminent rejection he was sure to come his way.

“Well I guess I feel a little less guilty about my secret now.” you utter, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Because I feel the same way about you. Have done for a while, considering we're being honest.”

and oh suddenly like a switch has flipped in his mind Steve looks at you, really looks at you in all your easy and effortless beauty and he can't help the smile the spreads across his rosy cheeks. 

“Would I be a total dork if I asked you to kiss you right now?” He flushes.

“Lucky for you, I happen to like dorks.” You smile inching your way closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies, pressing your lips against his. 

This kiss starts out innocent enough, with gentle explorative pecks, but it soon becomes apparent that it's not enough for either of you, as his tongue slips between your lips and you're moaning into his mouth. The towel wrapped around your body slipping to reveal yourself to him as his hands roam every soft curve available to him. The lingering sweet scent of your coconut sun lotion filling his senses.

It's only when you're pressed up against him so closely that you're reminded of how you came to be in your current situation. His still half-hard cock pokes into your thigh as you're making out with him. An instant press of his arousal.

 You reluctantly pull away from his lips, smiling to yourself when Steve chases your lips for one final taste, before his lust-hazed eyes peek open.

“You want me to help you out with that, Stevie?” You offer seductively.

Steve feels his stomach flutter with butterflies. Stevie. It was a nickname you had called him for many years, but suddenly now it all felt different. It carried a different weight now. It was suddenly much more affectionate than it had ever been before.

“Help me out with…oh…oh..” Steve flushes even more when catches on to what you were saying. “You don't have to, I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn't want to.” you say with a cheeky smile playing at your lips.

Steve shyly nods his head and mutters a soft ‘please’ and that is all the confirmation you need before you’re hooking your fingers into the waistband of his shorts and dragging them down his sturdy thighs.

With his cock free from his confines, you crudely let a string of saliva drool from your lips into your palm to slick your hand up before you reach down to tug your fist over his length.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, continuing to softly stroke up and down.

Steve is a picture of debauched pleasure, with his flushed face, and chest rising and falling with shuddering breaths. His hair sticks to his sweat-beaded forehead as you continue to work him over.

“Y-yeah..this is good..m-more than good” he stumbles over his words. “Feels fucking amazing.”

“Good…” you coo “I want you to feel good, Stevie.” you smile sweetly, the crude, wet sound of your slick fist gliding up his cock, and his whimpering moans echo out in the otherwise quiet bedroom.

“I’m not gonna…fuck...not gonna last long…” Steve groans, the sound nothing more than a low rumble. His breaths are quicker, as he fights against wanting to buck his hips to meet your touch. 

You smile deviously as twist your fist on the upstroke, lightly squeezing his glistening pink head before coasting back down his cock, grazing your thumb along the pulsing vein that runs the length of him.

“Honey, Please…” Steve wasn’t even sure what he was pleading for at this point, all he knew was that the way that you were teasing him had him just about to explode, teetering on the edge of pleasure, ready to fall over and give in to you.

“It’s okay Stevie…” you whisper, as you press your body close to his, leaving a soft kiss on his lips. “..Want you to come for me.”

And that is Steve’s undoing, your sweet whispered words of encouragement are enough to have him spilling rope after rope of cum over your knuckles. 

As he comes back down from his high, Steve fusses over the mess he’d made. Suddenly embarrassed about how badly he needed this.

But you kiss away his worries with a smile, before looking into his eyes and licking up the pearlescent drops glazing your skin.

“Fuck..you can’t just do that..” he huffs with a tired smile. “You’re going to get me going again.”

You shake your head at him with a soft laugh. 

“Come on, let’s head back down before things start to look suspicious.” you say standing up and making your way towards his door.

“Wait, what about you?” his honeyed hazel eyes sparkle with desire as he looks at you. “Let me make you feel good.” 

You make your way back across the room where Steve is still sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning down to him to place a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

“I’ll let you make it up to me and then some later, I promise, right now I just wanna go enjoy the rest of my summer.” you tug him by the hand with a giggle.

Whatever had just happened between you and Steve was a new and exciting development in your relationship, and although neither of you quite knew what you were to each other yet, it didn’t matter. You had all summer to figure it out, and for now you were quite content to just have fun.  

@paybacksawitch @penguinsandpotterheads @mrsjellymunson @aphrogeneias @onegirlmanytales @wroteclassicaly @rebelfell

[snek-eyes]

Good Omens fic recs

Hello all! Wanted to share a few of my longtime faves. These are all pre-s2, might do another with my post-s2 recs? Narrowed it down to 10, since that's the max links tumbl lets you have in a post.

Any Way You Want It

Author: Justkeeptrekkin Words: 27,500 Chapters: 5/5 Rating: Mature Mood: Vacation, soft but introspective After finally getting heaven and hell off their backs (at a cost) Crowley and Aziraphale go on holiday to a cottage in Scotland. Fluffy with fun snappy dialogue, the two really feel like best friends here! Aziraphale struggles with his tendency to go slower than even he wants.

Instructions Not Included

Author: Atalan Words: 68,000 Chapters: 13/13 Rating: Teen Mood: Detective / Gen (There are feelings but it earns that slowburn tag) My "if season 2 isn't good, this is my season 2" fic. Now, I liked season 2, but this is still SO good. After the notpocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley start a detective agency investigating supernatural happenings together. New characters include Raphael (who totally missed the apocalypse haha whoops), and a big spooky dog (whomst I adore). Note that while this fic stands just fine on its own, there is an unfinished sequel that imo doesn't leave off anywhere stressful.

When in Rome

Author: Kedreeva Words: 4,000 Rating: General Mood: The liminal space of nighttime conversations What happens after Aziraphale invites Crowley to oysters: Wings and reading. Tentative and innocent in those early days.

the deft, sweet gesture of your hand

Author: deadgreeks Words: 12,000 Rating: Explicit Mood: Hurt/Comfort, introspection A few years after the failed apocalypse Crowley shows up badly injured at the bookshop. Aziraphale has to help heal Crowley and save them both, and still finds the time to knit his feelings.

Chemistry

Author: Twilightcitysky Words: 122,000 Chapters: 19/19 Rating: Explicit Mood: Y'ever want a side of learning something with your romcom? After realizing they might need their own corporations to heal themselves now that they're not working for heaven and hell, Aziraphale and Crowley turn on all their bodily functions. All of them. What could be a silly premise is played out very satisfyingly, the actual biology of hormones at play here is fascinating. (this is not really at all related but: has anyone else read Peeps by Scott Westerfeld? Because the format reminded me of this in that it did a similar thing of playing straight the concept of "what could cause vampires to be real" that drew on inspiration from real life parasites interspersed between the chapters. I dig it. Anyway!)

Reservations

Author: AnnetheCatDetective Words: 10,000 Chapters: 3/? (Technically unfinished, but leaves off in a satisfying spot) Rating: Not Rated Mood: Meta (Character study as story) “There's some competition for Aziraphale and Crowley's usual table at the Ritz…” A couple of miracles bend reality and, well… you ever been like, “The boys need therapy, but who could possibly give it to them?” I love crossovers where the TV boys meet other versions of themselves, this one is my favorite.

i can't say the words, so i wrote you into my verse

Author: mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday) Words: 5,000 Rating: Teen Mood: Snapshots through history "Crowley has tattoos and every few centuries, Aziraphale discovers a new one." Simple and paints a lovely picture.

By Definition

Author: idiopathicsmile Words: 3,000 Rating: Explicit Mood: Smutty but fond A night together after the Ritz fic where Aziraphale is asexual and Crowley isn’t and how that works for them. The dialogue here is positively delightful.

Bark Dust

Author: rfsmiley Words: 8,000 Rating: Mature (mostly for injuries) Mood: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Historical Crowley is very badly injured in a battle, and Aziraphale has to figure out how to save his life.

Tell Me A Story

Author: brilliant_or_insane Words: 5,000 Rating: Teen Mood: Soft and warm Aziraphale likes telling stories and Crowley likes to listen. But when the demon is dissatisfied by sad endings and can't relate to the happy ones, Aziraphale decides to move them forward by telling a new story. (Of course, Crowley isn't entirely satisfied with the angel's perspective on that one either.)

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | October 1st-13th 2024

Hope all my fellow Canadians had a good long weekend! Had a week from hell last week so I didn't have time to put up the rec, and it's even a bit late for today, but I did it!

If you know anyone who's not tagged, please don't hesitate to tag them in the comments!

Complete

Siri, Call... by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Sickfic | 1,5K | General): Buck is sick and needs to call for help.

for thy true-love take by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Outsider POV, Established buddie | 2K | Teen): OR: Chimney Han and the ethics of slipping your coworkers love potions

watch out, you might get what you're after by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Getting Together | 2K | Mature): Buck unintentionally woos Eddie. And then has a hell of a time processing the way he feels about that.

i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this) by bellabrady (Getting Together | 2K | Not Rated): Or: How Buck and Eddie's first kiss leads to someone calling the police on them.

Put To Good Use by kittyeddie (PWP, BDSM | 3K | Explicit): Or, Buck and Eddie finally have a kid-free day at home, and take advantage of every second of it

At First Scent by Inell/ @inell (Urban Fantasy AU | 4K | Teen): When Buck visits Maddie, he meets Chris, a magic user needing his sister’s help learning how to use his powers. He also meets Eddie, Christopher’s dad, and feels a connection that he’s only ever dreamed of finding.

Bears, and Foxes, and a Three-Legged Bobcat by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Pre-Buddie, First Date | 4K | General): Buck and Eddie go on a non-date date to a wildlife park. Cuteness ensues.

Just Right by Inell/ @inell (Future fic, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): After getting injured on a call, Buck wakes up the next morning and tries to piece together what happened, accidentally changing his relationship with Eddie in the process.

to adam, from your ribs by justhockey (S8, Getting Together | 4K | General): And the thing is, Buck is so good at being alone; he’s been doing it almost his whole life. But when he’s reminded of the way love tastes, drizzled like honey on your tongue - the way it feels, like the warm glow of sunlight on your skin. That is when he truly aches. Not the breaking, because he’s done that a thousand times over. It’s the knowing that really does him in. The having, for just a little while, before it’s snatched away so quickly he can still feel the burn on his fingertips from trying to hold on.

Hall Pass by Inell/ @inell (Post-S7, Getting Together | 5K | Teen): After Buck and Eddie take Jee and Mara trick or treating, Chim and Maddie play a trick of their own to help Buck finally make a move on Eddie.

it's leading me on, every time we touch by lightyears (Post-S6, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit): Eddie doesn’t think anything of it when he reaches across the table to pile some pasta onto his plate, says, “Just my back. It’s been giving me a bit of trouble.” “You’re hurt, Eddie?” Bobby asks him, and Eddie’s sure that his intention isn’t to capture the rest of the team’s attention, but by way of being Captain, it happens anyway. “I promise, Cap. I’m good. But if it helps, I can go speak with a doctor, make sure nothing else is going on.” Chim chirps up: “A physio probably makes more sense than a doctor.” “Or an occupational therapist,” Ravi suggests, and Eddie’s sure it’s to stave off a Chim-Hen showdown. “Even a massage therapist would probably help.” And then Maddie says, “Buck used to be a massage therapist” and everyone goes quiet, heads all swinging in Buck’s direction.

sweet sunbursts of flesh pink magic by Underhung_Aura/ @eddiebabygirldiaz (Canon Divergent, Witch Buck, Sex Pollen | 5K | Explicit): Buck’s magic has always been a bit volatile. Jittery. Fluctuating. A touch reckless. Messy and bright and loud. Maddie says that a person’s magic is supposed to match the person themselves, that the form it takes isn’t happenstance or random, that it’s a reflection of your purest self, an extension of your soul that you can manipulate. Safe to say, Buck’s never cared for that assessment. or, buck has magic and eddie gets doused with sex pollen

Happy Accident by Inell/ @inell (Post-S8E01: Buzzkill, Friends to Fiances | 6K | Teen): When Buck gets some good news, he accidentally kisses Eddie, which leads to a conversation that changes their relationship.

Kissing On The Corner, Wait For Just A Minute by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Secret Relationship | 6K | Teen): Buck and Eddie think they're so smooth. They're cool, calm, collected. Normal, in fact. Just two normal best friends. Nothing to see here. Nobody is convinced.

Does it bite at your edges? by noxeratum (Infidelity, Post-S7, Getting Together | 6K | Explicit): Eddie Diaz is so repressed that he thinks his jealousy is bigotry and feels bad about it.

Talk Dirty to Me by ameliahart (Post-S7, FWB | 6K | Explicit): In which Buck has recently ended things with Tommy, Eddie wants to explore his sexuality, and they decide to start sleeping together. As friends, of course.

Through the Looking Glass by jukoist/ @beforejuko (Post-S8E01: Buzzkill, Getting Together | 6K | General): Buck likes Tommy. He does! And he definitely isn't in love with Eddie. He's just... worried. Because Eddie keeps vanishing on Sundays, leaving Buck with the boyfriend he definitely likes as much as he should. Everything is fine. Or, a post 8x01 coda.

Basics, Understanding Basics by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Post-S7, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Chris gets sick, loses part of his memory, and reassures Eddie and Buck they can still kiss in front of him. That's really thoughtful of him, except for the fact that Eddie and Buck aren't dating.

🔥All The Things You Want From Me by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Post-S7, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): “Can I ask you something?” Eddie shrugs. “Sure.” Tommy looks nervous, unsure. Tommy never looks nervous, or unsure. “Do you think Evan would move in with me if I asked him?” (Or the one where Eddie feels Buck slipping through his fingers and can’t let him go, so he tells him not to move in with Tommy and blows everything apart.)

My Carpet’s Got Crop Circles by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @tayf-ghost (Eddie & Karen, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): Or, five times Karen tries to use wine nights to get Eddie and Buck together, and the one time she didn't need to.

🔥Late Fines by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Librarian!Buck | 12K | Teen): Buck is a children's librarian at the branch closest to Eddie's house. When he gets himself involved in the lives of a cute kid and his handsome single dad, he gets a glimpse of what he wants in life. It might just take a few years to get it.

Eddie Diaz VS The Buck's Boyfriend Agenda by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Post-S7, BuckTommy Break-Up | 23K | Mature): Eddie starts gathering information about why no one trusts Tommy. As he grows to hate their relationship more, he learns more about himself and what he wants.

🔥 ice cream before dinner by cloudydaisies (Post-S7, Getting Together | 58K | Teen): or, gerrard messes with the team's schedules and eddie 'i just drove my son to flee the state' diaz is the only option to watch mara and jee-yun after school on tuesdays, which, shouldn't be a problem at all, right?

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 102K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

WIP

Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 5/? | 32K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

🔥 go and kill, go and die by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 9/14 | 40K | Mature): The 118 are a group of survivors in a small California town in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. For months they've been isolated and safe. But the arrival of some new players, the search for some missing loved ones, will shake everything up and put their little team in jeopardy.

Podfic

[Podfic] déjà vu by NC Pods (N0Connections)/ @n0connections // fic by peaktotheocean/ @peaktotheocean (S7E07: Ghost of a Second Chance | 10-20min | General): It is completely possible that Buck put too much thought into buying his couch. But Eddie can’t think of anyone else in his life who would buy a couch just so his kid would be comfortable.

🔥 [Podfic] With a Little Help From my Friends by MeggieJolly/ @meggiejolly // fic  by extasiswings/ @extasiswings (Post-S3, Feelings Realization | 10-20min | Teen): “You know…several of us parents get together once, maybe twice a month or so. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like. I can add you to the email chain.” Not for the first time that day, Eddie’s surprised. It’s not that he’s opposed, more that the invitation is unexpected. He’s not particularly social—when he is it’s with the team or with Buck or with his family, all of them in each other’s houses, in each other’s lives both at work and away from it. Outside of them… It occurs to him that he’s never really known how to make friends. [Or: Eddie makes friends outside of work and realizes that Buck might not, in fact, be just a friend]

🔥 as lucky as us [Podfic] by blackglass/ @blackestglass // fic by hammersmiths/ @henswilsons (Ravi POV, S7 | 20-30min | General): One of the first things Ravi learned when joining the 118 was to, under no circumstances, think too hard about Buck and Eddie’s relationship. But brother, they could try make his job easier. “I mean, I get it,” Buck’s saying, overhead, and Ravi’s knee-deep in literal human crap and even he can smell that shit from a mile away. “You and Tommy have a lot in common.” or, Ravi continually suffers as a third-wheel.

🔥 [podfic] baby, can i hold you? by All_I_Ask/ @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove // fic by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck (pre-Buddie, angst/comfort | 30-45min | Teen): Eddie’s eyes are squeezed shut, and Buck feels something inside him crack when this helpless, devastated sob wracks his body, eyelashes clumped with tears he’s not letting fall. “What do you need?” Buck asks again. “What can I do?” Eddie makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t know. I don’t know why this won’t stop.” or, eddie panics. buck holds him.

🔥 Heart, I Implore You [Podfic] by ReformedTsunderePodfics (ReformedTsundere)/ @film-in-my-soul // fic by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampire Eddie, PWP | 45-60min | Explicit): When Buck finds out his best friend isn't exactly human, he volunteers to help keep Eddie from dying. It's definitely just to keep Eddie from dying. No other reason. None whatsoever.

Re-Read

Down to the Bones of Me by giselleslash/ @gigi-gigi (Post-S7E10: All Fall Down | 5K | Teen): The morning after Christopher leaves Eddie gets in his truck and drives. Buck lets him go, and Eddie fights to come back for both of them.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Me again here to annoy 🤭

Husband Eddie HC babes pretty please 🥺

(how could you NOT love this face^^)

Your wedding day was a dream to Eddie...so was the honeymoon...well let's be honest the entirety of your relationship is like a dream to this teddy bear

He never thought he'd be a husband. He wanted to as a kid but after a while of how he was treated, the years of being the town target, of being rejected he gave up. But then one day he found you and you opened his heart up to love again.

He will do anything for his family, especially his spouse and his kids (this does include our beloved group of pre-teens). If it came down to it he would kill for you and he would die for you within a beat of his heart. His only goal in life is to have you safe, to have you feel protected and loved

Dates happen every Sunday. Doesn't matter what is going on or if you guys are arguing there will be a date night on Sunday and it is an all-day event

Literally is in love with you. You are his heart, his everything and he constantly has heart eyes whenever he sees you

The guys make fun of you guys light-heartedly all the time. "How can you possibly still be in the puppy love stay? Dud it's been seven years" You two are goals. point blank. El dreams of having a marriage like yours...really all of them do.

Eddie and you talk everything out. There is never a decision made without a discussion first.

You guys tried the whole "Never go to bed angry" thing but then you realized if you are sleepy ESPECIALLY EDDIE there will be moodiness and anger in you so now there is a "let's sleep on it" rule. Any time you are super angry and just can't find it in you to talk it through you take a nap and if the anger is still there then you talk about it but almost 90% of the time the bitterness disappears.

Eddie is his angriest and moodiest whenever he is sleepy or hungry so you always have snacks on you.

He tries to do small things for you all the time. Wayne terrified him one night when he was checking in "You are spoiling them right? I ain't going to be letting you back in if you screw this one up son. Buy the flowers, and do the dishes Without needing to be asked. You ain't easy to live with boy and they can do everything and anything themselves so make sure they are feeling loved and cared for or they best leave your ass"

...Geez thank you for unlocking that new fear Wayne. Now Eddie buys everything no matter what and you better Never touch the sink or the trash or you will send him into a panic

But when you realize Eddie is more frazzled than usual he will tell you everything. You grab his face softly and make him look into your eyes and you ask him gently "Baby...I can tell something is wrong" And once he sees your pleading, puppy eyes he melts and spills his guts to you.

Anywho I got carried away. Eddie is a fantastic husband in his own way. There will be times when it gets messy but luckily he is the type of man that once you have his heart he is yours until death or you royally fuck up and luckily for him you love him just as unconditionally.

Tagging: @screammunson @sweet-villain @tiannasfanfic @zestychili @eiightysixbaby @munsonology @lofaewrites @bloodthirstybreedingbunny

[spacelazarwolf]

I'm a gay man who has been around the block a while longer than most of the little imps in your notes. I've been genuinely attracted to maybe 3 women who weren't celebrities, one of whom was a pre-transition trans women who didn't even know that she was a woman at the time I was attempting to get with her, and I've never slept with a single one, and I call myself gay because I pretty much date men exclusively but also bi because I do find women attractive occasionally, and this fucking discourse is so goddamn exhausting. I've been friends with bisexual lesbians longer than some of these TikTok q-slur tagging motherfuckers have known what sex even was.

TIRFs like that choice specimen who was harassing you do not give a single shit about erasure or the distinction between being gay/lesbian and being mspec or whatever the hell it is they claim to care about, straight facts are that they only care about gatekeeping who can fuck who or who can call themselves what, ESPECIALLY when those people are women or trans people. They are just TERFs who happen to be okay with trans people who "behave themselves" and they are not new and not creative, they just change up their talking points every few years to attract impressionable teens who assume they'll die if they say anything "problematic." It's all a vacuous radfem clout war mixed with a fear of identities they don't understand.

Lesbians can do whatever they want forever and if some of them want to consensually fuck men sometimes that's no one else's business. Full stop.

seriously!!!!! ppl like this always break out the ra/df/em tactics the second they encounter a trans person who steps out of line. anyone they disagree with is a groomer or a predator. and to do this shit while multiple governments are currently trying to roll back protections for queer ppl on the basis of calling us groomers and predators is just horrendous.

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 1: After Raiding the Goblin Camp

Chapter 1: After Raiding the Goblin Camp

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: cw: Alcohol, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 1, pre-romance, awkwardness

WC: 1.3k words, 1/18 chapters

Summary: This hug takes place during the party with the tieflings, after raiding the Goblin Camp. Both Tav and Astarion are interested in each other, but love isn't in the air yet. Welcome to the awkward, uncomfortable first hug.

Ao3 | [Hug2] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

“Hey!” Karlach yells over the crowd of tieflings. “Take a drink if you’re excited to be alive!”

Cheers move through the group and more than a fair share of tankards are raised in agreement. A dozen different tieflings are hurriedly gulping down their celebratory booze at Karlach’s command.

The barbarian may not be able to touch anyone, but she’s certainly taking the time to enjoy everyone else’s company in another way: by getting them all thoroughly trashed before it's time for bed.

You watch from your place near the fire, laughing as more than a few tieflings start swaying. For your part, you’re enjoying the night thoroughly.

The tieflings’ joy is contagious and their alcohol is strong, meaning that you and your companions have a certain fluidity about you that you may not have had on another night. You’ve already turned down a few surprise advances from your companions, leaving you somewhat giddy.

Not only that, but you actually took one companion up on their offer– you’ve arranged to meet with Astarion later, which you’re admittedly quite looking forward to. You’ve only known each other a few weeks, but he’s a handsome man who seems to appreciate your chaotic humor.

Initially, you thought you may not get along. After all, two rogues, one of whom drank from the other? The perfect recipe for disaster between violence, petty theft, and an abundance of lies. But somehow you’ve been making it work, moving and killing in unison. The goblin camp truly didn’t know what hit them. There is something about the way you two move together in combat that leaves you aching, wondering how well you might move together in other ways.

I won’t have to wonder much longer, you remind yourself, lost in a blissfully inappropriate daydream.

So distracted you are that you completely miss the object of your thoughts approaching you from behind, calling your name. “Don’t tell me you’re nodding off now, darling,” Astarion says, right next to you now. You jolt slightly at that before he continues. “Not when the night is so young.”

“I’m awake,” you respond, returning to the present. “I was just enjoying the lull. Everyone seems to want to talk today.”

“Ah, yes,” he murmurs. “I saw them speaking to you. I suppose I can’t blame them, you are a delectable little treat.”

You laugh and shake your head at him. “You don’t need any more flattery, I rejected them all. I already have plans, don’t I?”

He smirks, eyes crinkling in satisfaction. “That you do. I knew you had excellent taste.”

You wonder if that’s why he approached you, to ensure that you didn’t take anyone else up on their offers of carnal pleasure. You’re about to ask him when Alfira pops up on your other side.

“Helloooo,” she slurs, clearly in her cups, her heroic song long forgotten. “What are you both smiling about?”

“Oh, just discussing every sordid detail about our plans tonight,” Astarion says, leaning in conspiratorially. “In fact, it may even be of interest to you. Inspiration for some more romantic songs?”

Your face remains placid as your insides squirm. “I don’t think Alfira needs to hear all that.”

Alfira grabs Astarion by the shoulder eagerly and pulls him in for a side hug. She sways with him for a moment before responding, “Gods yes, I have been wanting to branch out. Musically, of course.” 

“Of course,” he repeats before winking at you. You decide to trust him for the moment. “What would you like to know?”

With the kind of blind dexterity that only a drunk can exhibit, the bard pulls you in by the shoulders as well. The three of you are huddled, as if discussing an elaborate plan. “Ooooo, I’m just so excited,” she says, squeezing. “Tell me everything.”

You face Astarion head on now, both of you compressed to the same height. Catching his eye, you raise an eyebrow at him questioningly, as if to say, Now what?

Astarion doesn’t bat an eye at your concern, all practiced charm. Turning to Alfira he says, “Well, I heard that our newly minted hero here had to reject half a dozen suitors.” 

Ah, you think. He wants to gloat, for everyone else to hear that he’s the one you chose tonight. You don’t mind, you haven’t exactly been subtle about your growing interest in Astarion. Some of your team had even remarked on your choice to seek him out first tonight.

A dramatic gasp escapes the bard. “Why would they do that?” Alfira’s eyes glitter with glee and a drunken glaze.

“Supposedly,” he pauses, turning back to you and locking eyes, “It was all to feel the embrace of their one, true love.”

You roll your eyes at this, and he laughs upon receiving the reaction he was hoping for. “That’s not what I heard,” you respond, taking his bait without hesitation.

“Really?” Alfira’s head spins to yours and you can feel her resting on your shoulder heavily as she stumbles. “What did’ya hear?”

“It turns out that a certain vampire,” your eyes dart to his before continuing, “has been pining pathetically for quite some time. Something about how his undead heart may never beat again without his valiant leader by his side?”

The bard nods in understanding. “Of course, vampires probably feel love…” She hiccups. “Differently?”

You nod back, not breaking eye contact with Astarion’s amused look. “From what I gather, he may never love like this again. It’s only natural that his darling leader would embrace him tonight.”

“Wow,” Alfira breathes out, awe-stricken by both of your words, and utterly oblivious to the playful smiles on both of your faces. “It sounds like, whichever of you is correct, love is in the air.”

Before either of you can respond, she takes you both by the shoulders and pushes you together. You both grunt in surprise as you narrowly avoid headbutting each other, your bodies pressing together forcibly with all the strength this small tiefling can muster.

“Embrace then!” she demands loudly.

Faces almost touching, stumbling into each other's arms, you can’t help but think that your taunting may have gone a step too far this time. You look to see that Astarion seems similarly surprised, not anticipating such gusto from Alfira.

Our bodies will be closer than this soon enough, you think to yourself, attempting to push down the awkwardness that seems to be bubbling up from a simple hug. But something seems different, weirdly more intimate, about this. Especially with how clearly Astarion is hesitating, looking like a cat trapped against its will. “Well?” you hiss at him quietly, so that Alfira can’t make it out.

The vampire chooses to ignore you, narrowing his eyes at the bard. “What a splendid idea, Alfira,” he says through gritted fangs. It’s then that he gives you quite possibly the worst hug you’ve ever received, all uncomfortable angles and stiff joints.

Gods below, someone get me out of this, you think.

Luckily, Alfira is too drunk to notice your discomfort. Utterly pleased with the display of affection, she says, “Ahhh, true love! I need to go write about this.” She practically falls off of the two of you, patting you both on the shoulders. “Thank you for inspiring me, and have fuuuun.” She teeters off, back toward the revelry, leaving you two alone and standing far too close.

You take a step back from him and break the silence, “That was all your fault, you know.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t expect her to be such a deranged drunk.”

“So we just pretend that never happened?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him. “Otherwise, I don’t know how much fun I’ll have later.”

Astarion returns back to his normal self in a heartbeat. “Pretend what just happened?”

“Good,” you say, nodding. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to reject at least two more people to keep up with the bard’s newest song.”

The vampire laughs, low and rumbling. “See you later, darling.”