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#he's a sap who loves his sister and son
hobbyistauthor · 2 months
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2 ▰▱▰▱ Take Me Home (Please Stay With Me) ▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
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"came back wrong" post-s4 fanfiction, featuring monster kas!eddie. pre-steddie -> steddie, minors DNI please, Steve has some S P I C Y thoughts, although nothing too explicit yet.
Part One ||| Part Two (You are Here!) ||| Part Three
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It had taken a lot of explaining to get Hop to finally sigh and do that pinching thing he does across the bridge of his nose; the singular tell Steve’s learned he can count on to mean that the gruff, older man is finally caving and willing to go along with whatever hare-brained scheme is on the menu for the day. Ms. Byers was an easier sell– honestly, most of it was Eddie-monster himself, turning those giant, melty Bambi eyes on her and she was ready to go to bat for him (ha, pun intended, that was a good one. Nice job, Steve!) come hell or high water. Eddie-monster had even allowed Ms. Byers—“call me Joyce, honey”—to softly pet his mass of fluffy hair-fur while she cooed at him and called him a sweet boy. His sub-vocal rumbling was a dead giveaway to Steve that Eddie-monster was soothed by her motherly attention and presence. Hell, Steve always is, too, so it’s not like it’s totally surprising.
Watching the two of them interact had made Steve’s thoughts turn back to his own mom. He hadn’t heard from her in about a month, but that wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary for them. She’d been somewhat of a drifting figure in his life as soon as he was old enough to stay home alone for longer stretches of time. The one thing that she never failed to do, however, was reiterate how much she loved him. Arlene Harrington nee Ellsworth is many things, but neglectful of her only son’s emotions she is not. He has a phone number he knows he can call that will get him direct to her at any given time– how exactly that works, he hasn’t bothered trying to figure out, mostly because he’s never needed to actually use it. Even with how often he’d been in and out of the hospitals these past few years, her secretary or PA or whomever they are has always answered the calls when the hospital reached out, and she’d never missed one from Hop either. So no, he knows how much she loves him, he knows how she’d drop everything in a heartbeat and come back to help if he told her he needed her. 
He’s just not wanted to.
Call him a romantic, a sap, whatever– but he’s known his parent’s marriage has been on the rocks for years now. He’s heard his dad complain over and over about how mom doesn’t trust him, thinks he’s going to cheat on her, so she has to follow me all over the goddamn country, she’s probably the one who’s sleeping around, that unfaithful woman! Steve’s never heard his mom complain about traveling, never asked why she’s going off with him. He’s always figured if she wanted to share with him, she would. She had Steve early into her marriage at age 23 to an older Richard Harrington, and while she’s never lied to him about the fact that she hadn’t really ever wanted to have children, she doesn’t regret having him in the slightest. They’ve always been less like mother-and-son and more like older sister-and-little brother, or maybe cool aunt-and-nephew, which to some might be bizarre, but they’ve made it work.  
He’s nineteen now, and while he’s had access to his smallest trust since he turned 16, there’s still his entire college fund that’s sitting untouched, and he knows he’ll get access to several of his sizable trust funds once he turns 21, barring the revocable one he knows his dad put a freeze on when he didn’t get into college… but now that he’s going to have a permanent, non-human house guest to be taking care of, he’s going to need more than his paltry Family Video wages to support both himself and Eddie-monster. He doesn’t want to ask his dad if he can adjust the terms of some of those larger trusts– he actually doesn’t even know what types of trusts they are, even, just that they exist, now that he thinks about it– but mom will definitely help him if he asks. He just dreads having to explain the situation to her.
How can he possibly explain to her that he has a permanent monster house guest he wants to care for without sounding like he belongs in an asylum with Victor Creel as a cellmate?
Steve huffs out a breath, his hands hitched up on his hips as he stares at the over-large body of Eddie-monster. Smuggling a seven foot horror-show monster through a nightmare-ravaged town is a lot easier when you have the chief of police on your side, but it’s not like it was simple by any means. Getting the guy into his car had been a challenge enough, and they’d accomplished it with a lot of pushing, shoving, and pathetic little chirpy yowling sounds from Eddie-monster throughout the process, but alas, he has to get out of it now that Steve’s safely gotten them both back to his place in Loch Nora. The bimmer is tucked away out of sight in the attached garage behind his house, the back door open where his pitiful looking passenger is staring out at him with wet, pathetic Bambi eyes.
“Alright, you giant dork. Outta my car.”
Eddie-monster warbles back at Steve, shimmying awkwardly backwards in the direction of the open back door of the bimmer. He somehow manages to get his tail and hind legs out, talons skidding on the concrete floor of the garage, trying to find purchase as his wings get stuck against the frame of the car. His warbles grow distressed and confused, and from where Steve is standing he can see the way Eddie-monster’s head whips back and forth trying to figure out how to manage his wingspan while the appendages flare out in his distress and confusion. It takes every ounce of self control Steve has to keep himself from putting his face in his hands in his despair, because Jesus Christ, just watching this behemoth, clumsy dickhead try to wiggle his way out of a car, backwards no less, is quite possibly the dumbest and most ridiculous thing he’s ever seen– and he had to wear that fucking awful Scoops Ahoy! uniform back in ‘85.
“No, oh my god, bud, stop.”
Like a switch is flipped, Eddie-monster’s flailing is over in a heartbeat as his entire massive frame deflates at Steve’s impromptu command; those giant hickory eyes staring at him wetly over the pile of messy hair-fur covering his shoulder. He coos softly, the pitch at a pathetic, beseeching whine. Steve can’t help the wave of fondness that rises up inside him, feeling a soft smile spread across his face. He sighs, that fondness audibly tinging his tone, and pats Eddie-monster on one of his haunches.
“Okay, buddy. Your wings are too big to fit through the car door if you leave them relaxed like normal. Can you tuck them in real tight to your body? Pull them around your shoulders like a cape, maybe?”
Eddie-monster tilts his head, blinking those weird double eyelids and chirruping in response, following Steve’s instructions one large wing at a time. With them safely pressed against his body, Steve pats Eddie-monster’s haunch again.
“Okay, good boy, Eds.”
The praise immediately has Eddie-monster’s rear end all but vibrating, wiggling with delight. His long tail is wagging, flicking across the concrete floor and curling up around one of Steve’s calves. He bites his lip to keep from laughing at the obvious pleasure the big guy gets from being complimented– it’s really just way too cute, especially when he gets the whole excited shaking going, too, like a dog. 
“Looks like you’ll probably fit now. Can you keep backing up towards me, bud?”
With his tail still safely wrapped around Steve’s calf, Eddie-monster slowly and ungracefully manages to get all seven plus feet of his massive bulk out of the back of the bimmer, swaying clumsily on the concrete floor of the garage. His talons click-click-click -ing against the floor, echoing in the fairly empty space in a way that’s only slightly unnerving– in a way it’s almost like a dog’s claws on the sidewalk. It doesn’t take long for Eddie-monster to get his bearings after being cramped in the bimmer’s backseat since climbing out of the Upside Down after Steve, but once he does, he’s spinning around at Steve’s feet, making bright, enthusiastic chirping sounds and rubbing himself up against Steve with enough force that Steve has to plant his feet to keep from being knocked over.
Gently, Steve herds his monster into the house through the doorway into the basement. It’s only partially finished with a guest bedroom down there next to the laundry room, but it’s not like he plans on keeping his monster in the basement. He ushers Eddie-monster past the laundry room and the closed bedroom door and up the stairs, dropping them off into the formal entrance. Steve reaches out and flicks the entryway light on, making Eddie-monster reel back with an eep sound as he blinks those double eyelids rapidly to acclimate to the sudden brightness as Steve toes off his shoes to leave by the front door. Old habits, and all that.
He watches the Eddie-monster slink around the large space he’s called home for nineteen years, examining everything with huge, hickory eyes. Steve’s pretty sure Eddie’s been to his home before to deal for one of his parties, back when he was maybe a junior? He’s not completely certain, though. He never really interacted much with Eddie before the Spring Break from Hell, vaguely acknowledging he exists, but never actually interacting. He remembers they called him Freak King at school, and the teachers all called him Munson Junior, as though that meant something; like there was weight to it. Folks in town would just call him Junior, he vaguely remembers, that same weird heaviness attached to the word—Hop even called him that once, when it was mentioned to the Chief that Eddie had died in the Upside Down after everything settled—but ultimately the nicknames all just feel wrong and Steve doesn’t ever want to use any of them unless Eddie says otherwise.
He likes “Eds” just fine.
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As Eddie-monster is snuffling about in the living room, Steve heads into his kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter in front of the sink. He hangs his head between his shoulders, exhaling as reality starts to settle in. Loch Nora hadn’t been hit when the rifts opened up between the gates, so it’s relatively stable here. Many of the other neighborhoods in Hawkins weren’t so lucky, and lots of people lost their homes, both to the rifts and to the subsequent earthquakes that followed. For now, though, he and Eddie-monster will be fine. Steve’s got three guest rooms he could potentially make up for his big monster puppy, since he’s not going to touch the master on the ground floor and his own bedroom isn’t big enough for both himself and a seven-plus-foot behemoth. Steve sighs again, rubbing a hand down his face as he stares vacantly out into his manicured front lawn.
The clicking of talons alerts Steve to the approach of his monster before he turns around, catching sight of a large head peeking out around the side of the kitchen island, ears perked all the way up and eyes massive and inquisitive where they stare out from a bat-like face. Four large fangs poke out from under his lips, but ultimately it’s more cute than it is intimidating. Steve smiles at him and pats his thigh, beckoning Eddie-monster closer. With an excited wiggle, said monster finds the gesture agreeable and bounds over, shoving his big head against Steve’s belly, making a contented sub-vocal rumbling purr while Steve sinks his hands into that mane of curly hair-fur.
“So now that we’re safe, we gotta figure out what to do with you, man. You’re filthy, first of all, so I vote we get you in the bath first,” Steve muses aloud, mostly to himself as he mentally makes a list of what he needs to get done for his new permanent inhuman house guest.
“We’ll definitely have to use the master bath on the ground floor, but whatever, it’s not like my parents are ever home and they won’t complain about it. The private baths in the guest spaces will be way too small for you, ya big lug.”
Steve wonders if it’ll be okay for Eddie-monster to use his regular shampoo and conditioner, considering his hair is also kind of fur at this point? Considering the texture, it definitely can’t hurt, right? Maybe he still has some of that curly-hair shampoo squirreled away somewhere, he’s got some wave to his own hair, but since handling Dustin’s for the Snow Ball, he’s got a new appreciation for how complex curly hair care truly is. Regular soap should also be fine, too, right? If it’s the sensitive skin shit? Yeah, probably; Steve can’t imagine it could possibly be, like. Bad at this point– anything is better than being caked in nasty Upside Down gunk, especially for as long as Eddie-monster probably has. 
“And then we have to figure out some new clothes for you… I don’t think I can save your shirt, bud. It’s pretty shredded, but I might be able to cut the jeans into shorts for you? They’re already halfway there. I might have some old sweatpants we can cut a hole in for your tail, just for something more comfortable for you after your bath. I’ll have to see if we can find anything for you at the salvage bin at the School– I doubt anything in my closet will suit your style, Eds. You’ll probably have to manage without a shirt too, bud. I don’t know how to get around those big wings of yours.”
Steve freezes.
“Oh my god. I have to feed you.”
Slapping a hand to his forehead, Steve curses himself. How could he forget the most important thing of all? Jesus Christ, you fucking idiot, you gotta feed the guy! But wait, what does he eat, anyway? Steve squints at the monster smushed up against him, crooning at him in concern and batting a huge hand with talons tucked away at the fingers Steve has tangled into and tugging at his own hair. He had blood around his mouth when he’d swooped down on their little rescue party in the Upside Down, but was that from like, attacking and defending and using his teeth and jaws like secondary weapons, or was it remnants from a meal?
“What the fuck do you eat, Eds? Are you like some kinda vampire bat? Do you eat meat? Shit, I am so out of my depth right now…”
Steve’s eyes slide to the phone on the wall in the kitchen, the long spiral cord dangling below it like a taunt. He knows of a few people who might be able to help, but whether or not it would work out is another story. His best bet for weird… bat facts most likely isn’t even reachable by phone, anyway. Steve sighs, putting his hands on Eddie-monster’s huge shoulders and pushing down gently, making pointed eye contact.
“Be a good boy and stay, okay? Okay.”
With a loud thump, Eddie-monster’s haunches hit the floor as he stares up at Steve with wide, eager eyes, his wings vibrating where they’re tucked tightly against his back. Making another “stay” gesture with his hands, Steve backs away slowly, before he turns and hauls ass up the stairs to his room to grab his walkie off his side-table before rushing back down as quickly as possible, not wanting to leave Eddie-monster alone for very long yet. He’s already tuning to the familiar channel as he flies down the stairs, fingers pressing the talk button out of sheer muscle memory.
“Hey, Dustin, you there? Got a question for you, uh. Over.”
There’s no response for a long while and Steve stands in the doorway to the kitchen, peeking in on a very well behaved Eddie-monster, sitting pretty where Steve left him and looking back with hickory Bambi eyes. The static crackles across the walkie like a sigh.
“What is it, Steve? Over.”
At the sound of Dustin’s toneless voice, Eddie-monster lets out a pitiful, loud whine, his talons tapping against the kitchen floor as he shifts in place with overflowing anxious energy. Steve strides quickly back into the room, putting himself right up against his monster again, threading his fingers into Eddie-monster’s mane and carding through those curls with long, soothing strokes. Immediately, the large body on the floor sags against Steve, pressing into him bonelessly and whining softly.
“What do bats eat? And like. How do you tell if it’s a vampire bat or like. A fruit bat or something? Over.”
The long silence across the walkie could mean one of two things: either Dustin is annoyed with Steve’s questions, thinks he’s stupid and isn’t going to answer them, or he’s digging through one of his books to find the answers. Steve’s hoping it’s the latter, because there’s a reason Dustin’s his favorite of his kids– he’s the little brother he never had, and he wants to be able to make the kid smile again sooner rather than later. Getting Eddie-monster settled is pivotal to that goal.
“I don’t know why the fuck–”
“Language, man!”
“–you, oh for Gods sake, Steve! Whatever, anyway, I don’t know why you suddenly need this information, but vampire bats have leaf-shaped noses which is the biggest tell, but not all bats with that kind of nose are vampire bats. If it’s got a rounder nose, or looks like it’s got a fox face, it could be omnivorous, possibly vegetarian. Over.”
Eddie-monster’s muzzle is sort of leaf shaped? His nose is squished against his face a little, wrinkly with wide nostrils. He wouldn’t really describe it at all as being “fox-like” or anything like that. Steve tilts his head to the side as he considers the monster draped across his legs. He’s definitely got a bat-like face, but it’s kind of… generically bat-like? If he had to pick a shape for Eddie-monster’s nose, Steve would probably pick “leaf-shaped” if he was held at gunpoint, but honestly? It just kinda looks like an animal’s muzzle. With big ass teeth, yowza.
“Yeah, definitely doubt he’s vegetarian, guy’s got some fangs on him,” Steve chuckles to himself, the thumb on his unoccupied hand pulling Eddie-monster’s lower lip away from his teeth to expose those sharp chompers even more. “Uh, Over.”
“Yeah, fangs are for ripping and tearing actions, and since this possibly-real bat you’re asking about has them, it usually implies carnivorous tendencies exist in the animal’s diet. When did you get an actual bat, Steve? And not the wooden kind with freaking nails in it? Over.”
“Big guy followed me home, got kinda attached to me,” Steve replies across the airwaves, grinning down at the happily rumbling monster at his feet, “so I’m gonna try to make sure he’s comfortable for as long as he’s with me, and I don’t wanna accidentally make him sick or anything. Over.”
Dustin hums across the radio waves, the sound static-y but tinged with curiosity. It’s more positive emotion he’s gotten out of the kid in weeks, and honestly Steve’s delighted with the development. Dustin should never be apathetic—the kid’s been dramatic and full of life for as long as Steve’s known him, which granted, has only been since ‘84, but honestly, with all the trauma they’ve gone through it feels like so much longer. Eddie-monster also seems to love hearing Dustin’s voice echo out from the walkie, judging by the way all four of his ears flick upward and rotate eagerly towards the device every time the kid replies, that sub-vocal rumbling growing deeper in what Steve’s come to recognize as satisfaction.   
“That’s pretty cool of you, Steve. I mean, it’s a wild animal so you can’t keep it as a pet or anything, but it’s… it’s cool of you to want to take care of him like that. Over.”
“Wanna come meet him when he’s more settled and if he doesn't like, fly the nest or whatever? Over.”
“Uh, hell yeah! Over!”
“Language, Dusty-buns! Jesus Christ, you all are gonna give me grays, I swear…” Steve grumbles, “If all goes well, you can probably swing by in a few days, I don’t wanna overwhelm the big guy. Over.”
“Okay, Steve. I’m, uh. Thanks for, um. Asking me for help. Over.”
He sounds hesitant– almost shy, and Steve is taken aback for a moment. He’s not heard Dustin like this since he’d been talking about asking a girl to dance at the Snow Ball. It’s wrong on so many levels and Steve is having none of it. Yeah, the kid’s gotta check his ‘ttude at some point, but he wouldn’t be Dustin without it.
“You’re the first guy I thought of, Dust. If you didn’t answer, who else was I gonna call? Mr. Clarke? Pfft, no thanks. Over.”
The sound of Dustin’s laughter over the airwaves buoys Steve’s heart and fills it with light– it’s been far too long since he’s heard the kid genuinely chuckle about anything. Steve’s eyes burn and his throat feels tight but he pushes it down, not wanting to let Dustin know how emotional he is at the moment. His fingers tighten in Eddie-monster’s hair-fur, eliciting a thick rumble from deep in the beast’s chest and causing that long throat to arch.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, man! I guess I’ll see you in a couple of days, then. Over.”
“Oh! I won’t be able to pick you up like usual, Dust, some stuff has come up and the bimmer is kinda out of commission for a while–” while he cleans all the horrendous Upside Down gunk off her upholstery, ugh! “–so you’ll have to get a ride from Claudia or bike here, okay? Over.”
“Seriously? Ugh, fine. I got it, I’ll let mom know. See you then, Steve. Dustin over and out.”
Steve sets the walkie on the island and ruffles Eddie-monster’s curls, huffing out a breath at the monster-shaped blob of jello draped across his legs and feet.
“Guess we’re feeding you a bit of everything until we know what you like, then. I’m pretty sure I’ve got some steaks in the freezer, so I’ll just set those out to thaw while we get your stinky ass into the bath, hm? C’mon, Eds, grow your bones back and get offa me.”
The hulking mass of Steve’s inhuman house guest pulls himself back together, climbing back up to all fours and sulking petulantly behind Steve. He leads Eddie-monster through the master bedroom into the master bath, and Steve is incredibly grateful for the huge square tub that mom insisted on when his dad wanted to remodel– it’s big enough for two and half full size adults, or one singular Eddie-monster. Ignoring the glass-walled shower and the rest of the typical master bath features, Steve beelines to the tub to get it filling, since he knows it’ll take a while. As the water flows and starts to fill, he turns and puts his hands on his hips as he considers his monster. 
He’s going to have to undress him, isn’t he?
The t-shirt is unsalvageable, this is obvious. Just one wrong move and it looks like the whole thing will just instantly shred apart. The denim, however, might take a bit more finesse. The seam on the back between the pockets has split open to make room for Eddie-monster’s tail, and threading that appendage out might be a bit difficult, but otherwise it’s just a matter of undoing the fly and pulling them off the guy’s hips. Steve is praying there’s something underneath the well-worn jeans because if he has to cope with a face-full of monster dick this early into their re-acquaintanceship, he very well might just throw himself out the window and be done with it. 
The worst part of that whole… thing, in truth, is that he’s not… uninterested in said monster dick. Which. Absolutely terrible. Fellas, is it gay when you kinda sorta wanna look at a former human’s cock just to see if it’s as pretty as you think it will be, even if the dude is actually a fucking monster now? Steve wants to scream at his own brain. He’s definitely the worst person in the history of mankind because fuckssake, what kind of psychopath is thinking about some other guy’s junk when he isn’t even really human anymore and clearly needs help taking care of himself? Is it bestiality? Monster fucking? Xenophilia or whatever Star Trek nerds call it? Does Steve just have really adventurous taste, now? Maybe everybody at school was wrong. Eddie was never the real Freak King, it’s actually been Steve all along! Ha ha! Sike, fuckers! 
He feels a little dizzy, a little bit manic, and a whole lot less sane. He quickly shoves the entire wacky train of thought into a little box in the corner of his mind and slams the lid shut, mentally padlocking it for good measure. Here be dragons, or some dorky ass nerd shit warning to plaster over it to ward him off. Steve shakes himself back to the present, rifling through the linen cabinets for towels and the toiletry storage to see what hair care products and soaps there are squirreled away. Thankfully, he finds some decent stuff and pulls it, setting the shampoo and conditioner aside for easy access since Steve’s fairly certain he’s going to have to be the one to wash Eddie-monster’s mane. Those talons aren’t very conducive to scrubbing at one’s scalp, unless ripping the skin off is the end goal.
Steve meanders back towards the filling tub, coming to stand next to an enrapt Eddie-monster, who is staring wide eyed over the edge of the tub, leaning close to the surface and watching the hot water fill the vessel. He sticks his muzzle into the rising steam and sneezes, the dramatic recoil reminding Steve of a jumpy cat. Steve sticks his hand into the tub to check the temperature and figures it’s probably perfect– he remembers that Upside Down creatures don’t like heat, so he hadn’t set the tap as hot as he normally would, but it’s still pretty toasty. Hopefully Eddie-monster enjoys it. Judging by the way the big lug is wiggling excitedly where he’s perched against the edge of the porcelain and tile, it should be perfectly acceptable.
“Alright Eds, we gotta get you out of those rags. Are you gonna need help or do you think you can do it yourself?” Steve doesn’t want to assume anything, but he’s not going to anticipate too much independence. As much as Eddie-monster can understand him, he’s still more animal than human, and getting undressed might be a task too out of reach for him as he is currently.
Eddie-monster cocks his head to the side, chirring quietly to himself before pawing at the tattered remains of his Hellfire shirt. He manages to pull it off himself after a few fumbled attempts, ripping it the rest of the way down the back where it had already split open to accommodate his wings. He warbles mournfully at the filthy, formerly-white fabric where it settles on the bathroom floor, nosing at it sadly, his ears and wings drooping. 
“I know, bud,” Steve consoles, “that shirt meant a lot to you. I’m sure we can find a spare somewhere… or we can maybe make another one at some point, yeah? I’m sure Dustin could help you out.”
Eddie-monster perks up quickly at Steve’s words, chirping and bouncing twice in place as his wings ripple where they lay against his spine.
“Alright, alright, buddy. We gotta get your jeans off, now. Think you can get those by yourself, too? Or do you need my help?”
Stubbornly, Eddie-monster struggles to get the denim off on his own and refuses Steve’s help for far longer than Steve had expected he would hold out for. It’s obvious fairly quickly that the talons make the necessary finesse work of undoing a button fly far more difficult than Eddie-monster seems to have expected, but even as a hell-beast, it seems Eds still has an independent streak a mile wide. Steve can respect that, in a way, considering he’s very much so the same although in a slightly different way. From what he picked up through context cues, Eddie’s independence was due to the stubborn desire to prove that he could take care of himself; to show he had grown up far too early.
Steve’s independence exists because he had to learn to be independent. When his parents started leaving him home alone more frequently after his 15th birthday, he’d outgrown the nannies and au pairs. The gardener game twice a month, but they’d never had a maid so at least he’s always known how to clean. His mom made sure he knew how to use his cash and the checkbook; how to go to the bank to access his bank account where there would be plenty of spending money just in case—his first trust didn’t kick in until he hit sixteen, after all. It wasn’t until he got really sick of biking to fast food restaurants to buy his three square meals a day that he tried to teach himself to cook. Kraft dinners and lots of burnt messes were all he ate for about a year until he built up enough skills and understanding to actually get decent enough to try actual recipes.
Needless to say, Steve understands Eddie’s need for independence and the fierceness with which he’ll defend it, because he’s the same way. They just came into it differently. But here and now, from where he sits, it’s clear he’s going to need to infringe upon that independence because there’s no way Eddie-monster is gonna be able to get those jeans off by himself. He exhales heavily, slapping his palms on the tops of his thighs and hopping off the sink counter to approach the struggling creature letting out grumbly chirping noises in the middle of the floor. He puts his hands on his hips, cocking one to the side as he waits for his monster to acknowledge him.
Comically, Eddie-monster freezes in his pretzeled pose, one leg in the air with his thigh between his teeth, huge Bambi eyes fixed on Steve’s incredulous face as he fights back the urge to laugh. Two sets of ears droop in embarrassment, Eddie-monster’s jaw dropping as he releases his thigh with a thud, never breaking eye contact. From where he’s practically slinking on the floor, the pathetic creature blinks up at Steve and chirps weakly.
“It’s going well, is it?” Steve says, fighting back his laughter. He chews the inside of his cheek, forcing his face to remain in its standard “Mom Steve” expression, as The Party has taken to calling it. He crosses his arms across his chest. “You gonna let me help you now, or you wanna keep trying to chew your own leg off?”
Eddie-monster huffs, turning his head away. Steve swears that a flush of color rises up the insides of his ears, almost like he’s blushing, but it could be something else entirely considering Eddie-monster’s anatomy is, well, more monster than human these days. Steve takes his lack of action as agreement, stepping closer and kneeling down on the floor with his petulant beast. He takes a steadying breath, checks the locks and security around the box he’d kicked to the recesses of his mind, and reaches for the fly of Eddie-monster’s jeans.
“Here goes nothin. You better not have gone commando when we raided the Upside Down, Eds, or I swear to god I am never going to forgive you I swear to god don’t test me I will sue you for emotional damages, I will get the family lawyers, don’t think I won’t–”
Sweet baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he’s got boxers on.
Thank Christ, he doesn’t need to throw himself out the nearest window today, after all.
Nudging Eddie-monster with his knee, Steve re-focuses on getting the denim off the guy’s legs. And to do that, he needs to get the big lug to stop pretending to be jello on the floor. Thankfully, he’s an obedient puppy monster and basically just allows Steve to move him about as needed in order to pull the jeans down below the slight curve of his nearly non-existent ass and set about threading Eddie-monster’s long prehensile tail back through the hole in the back of them. He’s being very sweet about the whole thing, Steve muses, as the bulk of Eddie-monster’s seven-plus-foot frame leans contentedly into Steve’s body while Steve works the denim around the clingy tail. Every so often, Eddie-monster’s cheeks nuzzle close to his chest or shoulders like a cat does, a deep sub-vocal rumble rattling Steve’s rib-cage with the force of it. It’s a similar cadence to the satisfied ones, but slightly different in tone. It’s probably got a different meaning, but not drastically different– at least it’s still in the same emotional range.
Finally, Steve sets about wiggling the denim down Eddie-monster’s inhuman-shaped legs, only struggling a little bit, thankfully. Once they’re off, Steve side-eyes the boxers. Oddly, they’re novelty Garfield boxers, and somehow that serves as enough of a stark reminder that Eddie-monster is far from human at the moment, and to get all thoughts of the guy’s dick out of Steve’s curious, horny, fucked up pervert brain. Briefly he considers having Eddie-monster take the boxers off too before getting in the tub, but he decides against it.
“Well, bath time! You just gotta climb into the tub, buddy. You can keep the boxers on if you want, or you can take ‘em off. I’m not gonna help you with that, though, cause if you were human you probably wouldn’t be stoked about a guy getting that close to your junk,” Steve manages to joke without choking on his words. Eddie-monster seems to be thinking, but he otherwise doesn’t seem to outwardly react to the underwear comment or the junk comment, instead scrambling toward the massive vessel of tile and porcelain. He practically vaults over the lip, sinking into the steaming water with a splash that displaces a decent amount of water across the heated tile floor– thank God mom didn’t want carpet in the bathroom, as is in fashion, disgustingly enough. How the hell are people expected to clean that properly? Ugh.
Eddie-monster chirrups happily from where he sits in the water, sinking under the surface until only his nostrils and above are sticking out of the water, which is rapidly darkening with Upside Down sludge. Steve pulls off his outer layers, leaving him standing in his torn jeans and an old t-shirt after realizing he hadn’t changed out of the gear he’d raided the Upside Down in. He reaches over and pulls the drain plug after Eddie-monster has a few minutes of floating around in the warm bathwater, turning the handle to switch over to the hand-held shower-head so he can keep rinsing Eddie-monster off as they get him clean.
He quickly seems to realize that the warm water is draining away, panicked whines pouring from his throat as he throws himself at the side of the tub closest to where Steve kneels on the floor beside it. Tapping the dramatic beast on the nose with a fond smile, an action that makes those hickory Bambi eyes cross, Steve waggles a finger at him.
“Don’t give me that, Eds. You’re filthy. I’ll refill it so you can soak and enjoy it once you’re actually clean, okay?”
Steve arches an eyebrow and holds up a loofah and some of the least-scented sensitive-skin soap he could find. Eddie-monster leans closer, his nose twitching as he sniffs at what Steve has in his hands, sitting back and blinking patiently for Steve to get started. His big eyes sparkle with eager anticipation, although he keeps his body statue-still. His wings and his tail betray him, however, the appendages putting his excitement on display for all who know how to look, wings vibrating against his back so aggressively that there’s a quiet hum in the stillness of the room, and his tail is twitching wildly, thudding rhythmically and echoing against the floor and walls of the tub. 
It’s adorable.
Steve loses himself to his task, turning himself over to taking care of Eddie-monster entirely. He runs the soapy loofah over pale skin, sloughing away dirt and grime with dedicated focus and a gentle touch. He scrubs with the exfoliation from the loofah in places where Eddie-monster makes pleased rumbling noises, like up his spine between his wings and at the very top of his tail where it meets his spine. Before he knows it, Steve has completely washed the entirety of Eddie-monster, including around the forbidden appendage, and he hadn’t even noticed. He barely pays the thought any mind, knowing he’ll just have a breakdown about it later, and rinses Eddie-monster off, only to start the whole process over again. There’s a lot of nastiness Steve has to get off of the guy, after all.
It takes two and a half full body washes. 
Steve knows this because it’s on the half body wash that it registers what it is exactly that he’s washing.
And boy, does it hit him like a truck, because yup, that’s a dick. And uh huh, it sure is pretty. …why do I wanna put my mouth on it? That’s weird, right? Do I have an oral fixation or something? Fellas, is it gay—
Steve’s been washing Eddie-monster’s ass and dick region really slowly, and for a long time now with a glazed look in his eyes but if Eddie-monster has noticed, he’s making no indication. Face flooded with heat as he snaps back to himself, realizing he’s been ogling, Steve rushes through the rest of the wash—hence the half, he can’t dignify this haphazard attempt as a full wash in his shame—and finally starts to refill the tub so Eddie-monster can soak in the clean toasty water. As it fills, he folds a small towel into a roll and sets it on the edge of the tub, pulling the shampoo and conditioner closer to him.
“Mm, Eds, c’mere, rest your head back against this, will ya’? Just let your wings drape forward over your shoulders so they don’t get cramped, okay?”
With a contented chirp, Steve’s monster eagerly jumps to follow his instructions and lolls his head over the side of the tub, settling in with an excited wiggle. He peers over at Steve upside down, with those big Bambi eyes of his, a goofy grin splitting his muzzle, those oversized fangs spilling out from his lips. Delicately, Steve gathers up all of his hair-fur from where it’s trapped underneath Eddie-monster’s frame, running his fingers through the waterlogged curls. 
This is his favorite part.
He’s always loved washing other people’s hair, but it’s kind of a weird thing to enjoy doing if you aren’t a hairdresser by trade. Back when they’d dated he’d only gotten to do this for Nance once, since she’d never asked him if he would repeat the experience– which broke his heart a little. Gently, Steve works the expensive curly-formula shampoo through the dark, wild mane under his fingers, massaging into Eddie-monster’s scalp and working the product up into a fine lather. The strands feel soft and heavy under his hands as the dirt and grime is cleared away, thick and tangled but not unmanageable. Steve hums to himself as he works, softly and mindlessly, just losing himself in the task and allowing himself to be buoyed up to the familiar, warm space that care-taking brings him.
He rinses Eddie-monster’s hair thoughtfully, shielding his face and then squeezing out the excess water with one of his hands while the other controls the spray with the hand-held shower head. Eddie-monster makes hushed, contented noises as Steve works, leaning into every touch and rumbling his pleasure. His skin feels snugly and plush under Steve’s hands, the warm gray tone less dingy under the intimate, ambient light of the master bathroom. It’s quiet between them as Steve starts slowly working conditioner through dark, chocolate colored curls, idly de-tangling with a wide toothed comb as they exist together in the same space, enjoying the silence and each other’s presence. 
Steve scrunches his fingers through de-tangled, moisturized curls, pressing the pads of his fingers tenderly up into the skin around Eddie-monster’s twin sets of ears. His monster melts back into him, the only sounds between them the muted sloshing of the bathwater and the rumbling purr from deep within Eddie-monster’s chest, harmonizing with Steve’s nearly imperceptible idle humming. Time ceases to exist within their little bubble, where it’s just the two of them wrapped up in the comforting familiarity of each other, safe from the outside world. Eventually though, the once-warm bath water goes cold and Eddie-monster’s mane needs rinsed out one last time.
Steve feels an odd sense of loss as he gently scrunches a towel around lustrous, chocolate colored curls to sop up the water trapped within them. Eddie-monster is sitting back on his haunches, a large towel wrapped around his waist while water drips from his wings and in falls lazy tracks down the lean muscle curve of his shoulders. He gazes out from behind droopy, sodden bangs with half-hooded eyes, sleepy and contented as his sub-vocal rumbles continue with every touch Steve gives him. Steve runs the comb through the strands of his hair-fur once he’s gotten out as much water as he can, de-tangling one last time before he reaches for the large claw clip he’d grabbed from his mom’s vanity drawer. With a languid motion, he pulls the curls back away from Eddie-monster’s face in a loose twist, the hair accessory doing its job and holding everything in place. 
Steve can feel the tender fondness in his own expression, taking in the sleepy contentment so easily broadcasted by his monster’s own expressive face now that his mane isn’t hiding it all away. Tapping Eddie-monster’s nose affectionately, Steve finishes drying the big lug off, taking extra care around the still-raw-looking scar tissue that mars the majority of the left side of his torso and a large portion of his arms and upper right thigh. Oddly enough, the scars around his waist match the ones Steve bears on his own body, and the placement of his wings are mirrors to the scars Steve has on either side of his spine. There’s got to be a metaphor there somewhere, or something… or is it an allegory? Steve can’t honestly remember the difference and he doesn’t think it matters, anyway.
“Alright, you big lump,” Steve’s voice comes out raspy from disuse, breaking the silence as he pats Eddie-monster on his shoulders. “Let’s get you into some comfy sweats and then we can have dinner. Sound good?”
Eddie-monster chirps slowly in reply, sleepy-sounding and content as he hovers in that safe, dreamy place of post-bath bliss. He still manages to get himself up on all fours and follows Steve up to his room, where he sits obediently with his wings folded in tightly while Steve rifles through his drawers to find a pair of old but comfortable sweats that Steve knows won’t immediately cramp the guy’s style sensibilities– were he more human, of course. Getting Eddie-monster into the sweats is easy, as is simply ripping a hole just below the elastic waist so his monster’s tail can fit through. Satisfied with himself, Steve makes his monster look away while he changes into his own comfy clothes: a pair of basketball shorts that are just on the side of too small, but are so comfortable he can’t bear to get rid of them, and an old Bowie t-shirt that Robin found at a Thrift Store and bought him as a joke. She’d not stopped teasing him after he’d not been able to take his eyes off the guy in those pants during Dance Magic Dance in that weird fantasy Muppet movie they’d taken The Party to go see a couple weeks ago. He’s since cut the sleeves off since there was already a hole in one of the armpits, but it’s a damn comfy shirt and he’s not going to let go of it any time soon. 
When he turns around with his hands on his hips, he’s smiling at Eddie-monster before he even knows he’s doing it. The goofy idiot is laying on his belly on the floor, his wings pulled over his head, as though he’s broadcasting that he won’t peek. It’s adorable. Steve clears his throat, his lips twitching as he holds back a giggle. One of the wings pulls back to expose a single, huge Bambi eye that stares up at him, accompanied by a questioning chirrup and tail flick. Steve can’t help the restrained sound of laughter that manages to escape him, shaking his head with mirth before squatting down in front of his monster and rubbing at his chin and cheeks affectionately. Eddie-monster freezes before leaning into the touch and preening at the attention.
“You’re ridiculous. But thank you for being so considerate of my modesty, bud,” Steve teases, his words hearkening back to a memory of getting whacked in the face with denim and pins, his mouth still tasting of acrid demon bat blood.
“Let’s go have some dinner.”
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It’s perfectly domestic of them, to be honest. Steve is at the stove, the aroma of browning meat from the cooking steak filling the air, mingling with the scent of the vegetables roasting in the oven– drizzled with olive oil, salt, pepper, a few other spices, and topped with a balsamic glaze that will caramelize perfectly if he’s got the timing right, which he’s sure he does. There are mashed potatoes still warm in a pot on the stove, the heat turned to basically nothing to prevent them from going cold. A bowl of strawberries and blueberries are off to the side, washed and ready to eat for a small dessert. 
Eddie-monster lays on his belly on the floor, his wrists crossed under his chin as he lounges at Steve’s side, shoulders brushing Steve’s calves. He’s not in the way, but he’s just underfoot enough that he’s constantly touching Steve in some way, whether it be with his tail, his shoulders, or he’s rubbing his big head against Steve’s thighs asking for pets. Steve finishes his own steak—medium rare, as a good steak should be—and sets it aside to rest. He plans to keep Eddie-monster’s own steak as rare as possible, just in case he needs to ease him away from a mostly-raw diet, but he’s not going to be responsible for giving Eddie fucking parasites or some shit from raw meat.
He watches carefully as the meat sizzles and pops the short time he has it in the cast iron pan, but ultimately manages to keep it rare. Pulling out the vegetables as the timer goes off, he makes up a plate for Eddie-monster. Steve’s curious to see what Eddie-monster goes for, so he can make sure to feed the guy accordingly in the future. He nudges Eddie-monster up off the floor and guides him with the scent wafting off the plate to the table, where he coaxes all seven-plus-feet of his monster into sitting down. He plates his own food once his steak finishes resting and taking his own seat across from his perplexed looking monster.
“Don’t worry, man. I’m not gonna make you use a fork. You can just use your, y’know,” Steve mimes snapping his fingers shut, “Your claws or whatever. It’s fine.”
Watching Eddie-monster eat is an experience. He tries a little of everything, shying away from the potatoes more so than the vegetables, but he gorges himself on the steak. The noises of pleasure he makes as he eats are borderline pornographic ad Steve takes to thinking about Mrs. O’Donnell having wild monkey sex with some faceless, balding old guy standing in for her husband until he feels safe again. The way he licks his lips should be criminal, Jesus Christ. Steve also notes that the fruit receives a similar, if slightly less pornographic, response as the steak, which is curious. 
Eddie-monster is licking his talons clean while Steve clears their plates—his own dinner was delicious, after all—when his eyes land on the phone once again. As he passes it, he sighs and pulls it off the wall, the long cord uncurling as he makes his way to the sink with their dishes. He dials a number he’d forced himself to memorize years ago, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he turns on the tap to get washing.
The line rings.
And rings.
And rings.
Until–
“You’ve reached Ellsworth’s PA, how may I be of assistance to you today?”
Steve sighs, forcing his tone into politeness even though he does actually quite like this woman. 
“Hi, is it still Charlene, then? This is Steve. Steve Harrington?”
“Oh! Hello, Steve! And, yes, of course!” She sounds surprised, but not unhappy about it. “I’m so pleased you remember me, it’s been years! Are you calling to speak to Arlene, then, sug?”
“Yeah, is mom available?”
“You must have luck on your side today, or just really perfect timing. Arlene’s last meeting was canceled, so she’s free for the rest of the day. I’ll let her know you’re callin’. It’s so nice to hear your voice, Steve! You sound so grown up!”
“Ha ha, thanks Charlene.”
“Oh, let me get her for you. Please hold!”
The line clicks, and Steve hears the ambient music that seems to change every time he’s put on hold when he has to call this number– granted, he’s only had to call like, twice? Maybe three times? But anyway, it always sounded different. He rinses another dish, diving right back in and starting to wash another as he waits. He hears Eddie-monster’s talons clicking on the floor as he wanders in, undoubtedly to lay down at Steve’s feet again, but the constant closeness is something he’s quickly becoming accustomed to. He can’t begrudge the guy for it, especially not when Steve benefits from it too, in a way. He’s nearly done with the dishes when finally the hold music cuts abruptly away.
“Charlene tells me you called, Steve. You so rarely do, so... Wanna spill what’s up?”
Steve exhales, shoulders drooping as his tension drains from him all at once. It leaves him desperately clutching the edge of the countertop in one hand, arm shaking as it fights to keep him upright while the other buries itself in Eddie-monster’s drying mane, a grounding point for his sudden release of anxious tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto. Eddie-monster presses closer against Steve’s hip as though sensing his sudden change in mood, crooning up at him in concern. Steve shuts his eyes, tightening his grip in those soft curls once, 
twice, 
three times, 
before loosening.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale…
“Hey, Mom.”
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please please PLEASE tell me if you want to be tagged for future bits of this, because I wasn't sure who actually wanted to be tagged and who didn't, since I've never done the whole... tag list shit before.
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TAG LIST So, here's the folks who SPECIFICALLY said they wanted to be tagged for part 2... -------------- @estrellami-1 @waelkyring @child-of-cthulhu @moltenchocolatelavacake @awkwardgravity1 @sergeisilence -------------- aaaaannd a list of people who seemed to really want to know when part two came to light, so... fuck it, we ball. -------------- @steddieinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @insteviewetrust @eldtritchlizardblast @brainsteddielyrotted @the-s-is-silent @monsterloverforhire @prazinos @me-and-my-sloth @somegirlsomewhere @steddiewithachance @eyesofshinigami @mugloversonly @erzsebeth-witch @panicatthediaz @giverobinagfbrigade @kaspurrcat @matchingbatbites @spookednsaucy @homosexual-having-tea @pr3tty-b4t @himbosandhardwear @anzelsilver @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @grimmfitzz @igotthejob @finntheehumaneater @snarkfamily
and finally, thank you @steddielations for the post that started it all.
---- I want to apologize to these five folks (ESPECIALLY you, hippieg!rl420, you were so enthusiastic I feel so bad about this), you seemed to want to be tagged but I couldn't get your mentions to work. So, hopefully you find this! xo @hippieg1rl420 ||| @honhonbaguettegofuckyourself ||| @cashewnutofdoom @simplebtromance ||| @eldritchlizardblast
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Follow the #Take Me Home steddie fic tag or me, @hobbyistauthor for updates, or just ask to be tagged! If you're already on the tag list and would like to be taken off, just let me know either in the replies or via DM. I don't bite much.
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happilyhertale · 10 months
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Heir to the throne - Daemon Targaryen x niece!reader
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Summary: You and your uncle Daemon have a somewhat sullen relationship. Daemon thinks you are weak. And you think he is insufferable and manipulative. But how long can you resist your growing affection for him?
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading!
Author’s note: Hey you (:
A one-shot Daemon story requested by @dreamlandcreations 🖤 I hope you like it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Word count: 5.5 k
Other stories of mine
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As the day of your birth dawned, the enchanting chimes of Kings Landing echoed through the city, filling the air with a symphony of celebration. All the people of the realm witnessed your arrival on this earth. As the beloved first-born daughter of King Viserys and his beloved Queen Aemma, it was well known that your father longed for a son. But your father's deep love for you surpassed all pre-determined expectations.
When your mother's womb was filled with new life again, you were still a child yourself, and the anticipation of the arrival of a male heir to stride through the royal halls grew. But fate had other plans, and your sister Rhaenyra graced the world with her presence. From the moment she entered this realm, an unbreakable bond formed between the two of you. Despite Rhaenyra's temperamental nature, you found harmony in each other's company.
During your childhood together, mischievous pranks became part of your playful repertoire, often driving others to despair. While you found solace in the art of needlework and the treasures of old books in the library, Rhaenyra could always be found in the exercise yard, rolling in the earth and eagerly keeping pace with the boys of the court. But you, too, actually took part in such pursuits and proved that your wild spirit burns just as brightly. Countless times you stood by Rhaenyra's side, defending her against the taunts of those who mocked her only because she was a girl. Together, fearlessly and with combined strength, you unceremoniously threw those who dared to challenge you into the dirt.
Yet the longing for a male heir consumed your father Viserys' heart and overshadowed the vibrant love between your parents. Your mother, despite her best efforts, was tired and exhausted after mourning a dead child in the cradle, suffering two stillbirths and two heartbreaking miscarriages. But a glimmer of hope emerged when she became pregnant again, sparking the anticipation of a long-awaited male successor. Even you and Rhaenyra held on to that hope, for you were reluctant to take on the burden of ruling a kingdom. The duties and benefits of being a princess gave you both far more pleasure. But this pregnancy weighed heavily on your mother, sapping her vitality with each passing day. The signs were obvious to you, for she rarely ventured out of her bath anymore.
You and Rhaenyra started spending a few moments together in bed in the evenings at that time. You had numerous conversations ranging from trivia to the prevailing topic of your mother and her exhausting pregnancy. It was during these intimate exchanges that your fear of childbirth was really ignited.
This fear was only fuelled when your mother died in childbirth. Your mother's untimely passing at the birth of the long-awaited male heir shook you and Rhaenyra to the core. But in the midst of the pain, there was a surprising turn of events when your father called you to him. The seriousness that showed on his face set the tone as you and Rhaenyra stood before King Viserys, waiting for his words.
In a calm and serious tone, he unravelled the story of the Song of Ice and Fire and tied together the threads of the prophetic vision of Aegon the Conqueror. As his hopeful gaze fell upon you, a feeling of trepidation crept over you, for you did not know what he was up to. Your father was trying to divert the succession by preferring you to your uncle Daemon and longing for you to ascend the throne. There was silence in the air, broken only by Rhaenyra's radiant smile. But you shook your head resolutely and refused the iron throne that awaited you. And so the path took its course, granting Rhaenyra her rightful place as heir to the throne.
But what you and Rhaenyra also shared was the joyful anticipation that shot through your veins every time your uncle Daemon visited King's Landing. The moment Caraxes appeared in the sky, your heart beat faster and you quickly made your way to the dragon pit. Hastily you traversed the corridors, longing to catch even a glimpse of your beloved uncle. Gasping for breath, you reached the entrance of the dragon pit and waited patiently for his arrival. It wasn't long before Rhaenyra was at your side, waiting as well. And whenever Daemon finally appeared, a radiant smile lit up both your faces.
Without hesitation, you both sprinted towards him, and with effortless strength, he lifted you both up in his arms and carried you towards the keep. Enchanted, you listened to his every word and listened to tales of epic battles and distant lands he had travelled. But over time, things changed. You grew more mature, older and wiser.
Although you still hold your uncle in high esteem, a bittersweet ambivalence stirs within you. You still enjoyed listening to his stories, even if you feigned a certain disinterest. But his shadowy deeds, which always resonated in the depths of your consciousness, repelled you. The same was true of your uncle. He held you in high esteem, considered you his niece and vowed to protect you from the horrors of this world should he have the power to do so. However, he considered you weak, much like your father, King Viserys. It was Rhaenyra, spirited and rebellious, who attracted his affections more. But such things were of no consequence to you. Gaining his attention was not attractive, at least you kept whispering this to yourself.
One day, the whispers of the servants echoed ceaselessly through the air, like a delicate melody. The news was full of excitement - a vibrant festival was to fill the humble streets of Flea Bottom. Enchanting attractions and captivating performers would parade through the avenues, enthralling all who gathered with their enchanting talents. Naturally, your curiosity was piqued, for it had been far too long since you had joined Rhaenyra on a journey through the secret passages of the keep.
As evening fell and dinner drew to a close, you retired to your chambers. Secretly you dressed in the humble attire of the servants and carefully donned a cloak with a hood that concealed your shining silver locks. With great determination, you approached what appeared to be an ordinary wall in your chambers and exerted a gentle but purposeful push. The wall that obeyed your touch gives way, revealing a hidden passageway that lies beyond. A tingle of anticipation flows through you as you enter the hidden passageways and the familiar excitement within you flares up again.
As you arrive in front of the massive keep, you stare upwards, fascinated by the towering walls that seem almost frightening. Relief washes over you, for you knew that tonight you would escape the confines of this fortress and enjoy the freedom that awaited you. Your path leads you unwaveringly to Flea Bottom, a thriving tapestry of life and pleasure. The narrow streets were teeming with happy people, the air was filled with animated conversation and joyous laughter.
At every corner, artists adorned the bustling scene, showing off their talents and attracting the attention of passers-by. The fascination of it all takes hold of you as your gaze wanders upwards to witness a daredevil performer gracefully crossing a taut rope between two old walls. A melodious laugh escapes your lips, evidence of the sheer wonder and enchantment that has captivated you.
The lure of this uncomplicated existence is undeniably great. What is even more enticing is the anonymity it gives you. Here your hair remains unseen, the darkness hides you from prying eyes. Your purple eyes go unnoticed like a hidden gem. You are no princess, but just an ordinary soul among them.
A woman gracefully hands you a glass of wine and a smile graces your lips in response. As you sip the wine, she leads you into the crowd of dancing people. In the square, musicians serenade and enchant those who sway to their melodies. You find yourself in the midst of the cheering crowd, laughing and twirling in blissful abandon. You spill a little wine but pay no attention to the fleeting mishap. Your hood slips briefly, but you deftly straighten it again, preserving your disguise.
But as you turn around briskly, a sudden shock of surprise passes through you. Standing before you is your uncle, Daemon, wrapped in his own cloak.
"Uncle!" you say, startled. Your eyes are wide and you stop abruptly. You are breathing heavily from all your dancing.
But he only grins at you.
"Well, well... What is our little princess doing here?" he asks you.
You clear your throat slightly, "Well... I just wanted to enjoy the festivities," you say softly.
He smiles at you, "I could see that," he grins at you.
"So you're interested in the festivities? And you even sneak out of the keep to do it?" he asks you.
You look at him, "Does that surprise you?" you ask him in return.
He shrugs slightly, "Let's put it this way, I didn't expect it"
He looks at you with a look you can't quite place. Your cheeks flush slightly and you look to the side.
"Well... I have to go, take care princess," he says with a slight grin and continues walking.
You are left a little irritated.
The next day you learn that Rhaenyra was in a brothel with Daemon and you are shocked. You met Daemon on the streets of Flea Bottom, he must have gone straight to a brothel afterwards... When you hear this, you immediately go in search of Rhaenyra.
When you find her, she is standing talking to Ser Criston.
"Rhaenyra," you say, and she responds with a smile.
"Can we talk for a moment?" you ask her.
Ser Criston steps away from you.
When you are alone, you look at her.
"You were in a brothel with Uncle Daemon?" you ask her.
Her eyes grow wide.
"How do you know about that?" she asks you, horrified.
"Well... secrets don't stay secrets here for long... Especially when two silver-haired people visit a brothel," you say.
She swallows visibly.
"So it's true?" you ask her.
She grabs your arm, "He didn't take my maidenhead, I swear," she says to you.
"But how can you be so careless as to go to a brothel with him?" you ask her.
"Do you know what will happen if this gets out?" you ask her further, "Your reputation will be ruined!"
She bites her lip nervously.
"It won't come out... and if it does...I didn't lose my maidenhead to him," she says softly.
But after your father finds out about it, he is furious. He has Daemon brought to him.
"Give me Rhaenyra to take to wife and we will return the House of the Dragon to its proper glory"
There is a brief silence in the throne room as Daemon speaks the words and lies hungover on the floor.
Viserys kneels over him, "Of course... It's not my daughter you lust for, is it?"
He presses the blade a little more against Daemon's neck, "It's my throne"
Daemon grins just slightly.
"You can take her as your wife... But she will no longer be heir to the throne. I will make y/n heir to the throne. Rhaenyra is no longer pure, too wild to rule a kingdom... Hoping that you cannot corrupt y/n, " Viserys finally says.
Daemon gets angry, "You can't do that!"
Viserys stands up, "You'll see what I can do"
And in a moment that seemed to stand the test of time, your father, in a grand production, announced to the realm that you were the rightful heir to the throne. He justifies this monumental decision by acknowledging that he should have recognised your esteemed position as elder sister from the beginning. Deep down, however, both you and Rhaenyra understand the motivations behind this decision, but the revelation leaves you stunned and unprepared. The thought of assuming the role of queen does not suit your heart's desires, but your father, determined and weary of all stormy arguments, rejects all arguments.
The kingdom is in an uproar, and King Viserys hosts an extravagant ball to celebrate this turning point. With unwavering courage, you step into the limelight, knowing that all eyes will be on you all night and your every move will be closely watched. Countless lords vie for your attention, eager to capture your gaze. You, now the embodiment of attraction, become the most desired woman in the realm, igniting ardent desire from all corners. In the midst of this whirlwind, you find a moment of calm, enjoying a sip of wine in solitude, only to be startled by the sudden appearance of your uncle at your side.
"Niece," he says in greeting.
You look over at him slightly and then drink some more of your wine.
"Uncle," you say back.
After a while his voice resounds, "So you are now heir to the throne"
You nod slightly, "I guess that's right," you say.
He smiles slightly, "You don't seem very pleased about it"
You snort slightly, "Well... if you hadn't taken your other niece to a brothel and started rumours about her virtue... Then I wouldn't have to be here," you say.
"So you're not pleased?" he asks you.
You just look at him.
"Why... Why are you taking her to a brothel in the first place? It's irresponsible and immoral," you say.
"'Excuse me... My highly moral niece... but if we are honest, was I ever moral?" he asks you.
You snort again and he looks at you.
"You were out in Flea Bottom yourself...," he finally replies, but you interrupt him.
"... but I didn't go to a brothel!" you say.
He watches you for a moment.
"I had to take Rhaenyra there... I had to show her... To show her what it means to make political decisions… to fulfil duties and also to accept and live out personal preferences," he tells you.
You shake your head slightly, "You can't think of anything better than taking your niece to your brothel?"
You drink from your wine and look out into the crowd again.
He looks at you, a slight smile curling his lips.
"You wish I had gone to the brothel with you?" he asks suddenly.
You choke on your wine.
"Excuse me?" you ask him.
He grins now, "You wish I had chosen you. When I met you on the streets of Flea Bottom... You wish I had taken you by the hand and..."
But you interrupt him.
"What? No! Of course not!" you say to him, but your cheeks blush slightly.
He just grins even more, "Well... If I had known that your father would now install you as heir to the throne... Then I wouldn't have deprived you of this lesson," he says with the same grin on his face.
"Stop it!" you hiss.
"I have no interest in going to a filthy brothel with you," you say to him and you feel the anger rising inside you.
"Well... we don't have to go to a brothel either... I can teach you this lesson in a soft bed," his eyes sparkle as he says this to you.
You just look at him.
"Do you always have to be like this? So manipulative? Maybe you should stop trying to corrupt your brother's daughters... At some point there won't be any children left to succeed to the throne... Or is that what you want? So that you can be named heir to the throne again?" you say to him.
Daemon's gaze darkens, but you simply step away from him.
You leave the ball. You quickly try to put a great distance between you and Daemon. You don't know what it is, but the thought of being in a brothel with Daemon stirs something in you. But you quickly move on towards your chambers.
As the morning light wakes you and you step out of your chambers after your morning routine, a bittersweet realisation comes to you - Daemon has once again left King's Landing.
But in the midst of this recurring absence, a new responsibility now weighs on your shoulders and demands your attention. Your father, concerned for your future, keeps dropping hints about potential suitors who might be worthy of you. Some of these suggestions make you recoil in horror, as they are unfamiliar names of lords you have never heard of. Others, with some logic, sound like good partners. But one name keeps coming up - Laenor Velaryon. Laenor, a kind-hearted soul, would guarantee you a respectful marriage. But deep inside you long for a marriage that promises more than a husband who prefers to spend his free time in the company of other men.
While King Viserys wants to leave the final decision to you, he nevertheless tries in his own discreet way to win your heart for this union. Inwardly, you cannot help but envy Rhaenyra, who now enjoys the freedom of choice, unaffected by the burden of political affairs. Yet you are taken aback when she too suddenly expresses her desire for an engagement. Ser Harwin's proposal to marry her is announced by your father, and the glow on Rhaenyra's lips betrays her joy. After much deliberation, your father has given his consent to this betrothal, sealing the path Rhaenyra will take.
Preparations for Rhaenyra's wedding are in full swing, putting an enchanting aura in the air. Although Rhaenyra is no longer heir to the throne, no expense or effort is spared to ensure a magnificent wedding. While you are busy with your own new tasks, you are all the more surprised when your sister's wedding is suddenly only a few days away.
The capital city is welcoming an influx of distinguished guests, with unfamiliar faces packing the halls. Amidst this swirl, fate once again crosses your path with Laenor. Warm greetings are exchanged, and in the absence of your father's watchful presence, you are indeed able to engage in pleasant conversation. Unfortunately, your father never fails to highlight Laenor's presence whenever he can.
On the auspicious day of the wedding, there is a grand ball where wine flows copiously, instilling in you a sense of calm. This makes it a little easier to bear your father's insistent insistence that you dance with Laenor. Your gaze, however, inevitably wanders to Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin, who always wear beaming smiles on their lips. Genuine joy fills your heart for them.
Suddenly a murmur goes through the crowd, growing louder with each passing moment. As you look up from your seat at the head table, you catch sight of the entrance of your uncle, who has been absent throughout the ceremony. Surprised, but not completely taken aback, it seems only logical that he naturally needs to make a special appearance. He exudes an undeniable charm as he strides into the hall, his lips curved into a subtle smile. Your eyes meet briefly, and you detect a hint of mirth in his eyes. Hastily, you avert your gaze and seek refuge in the depths of your wine glass.
Daemon makes his way to Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin and offers them his congratulations before gracefully walking around the table. Finally, he settles across from you. As you avoid his gaze, your attention is abruptly taken by your father, who suddenly stands before you. A smile graces your face as you lift your gaze to meet him, only to lose it again when you see Laenor standing beside your father.
"Y/n. I thought you were going to show Laenor your new dancing skills?" your father asks you.
You smile, "Where do you keep getting these ideas from?," you mumble.
But gracefully you rise from your seat and put on a gentle smile, as if the weight of the world is light on your shoulders. Together with Laenor, you glide to the dance floor, a harmonious couple amidst the lively atmosphere. Laenor, a skilful dance partner, engages you in pleasant conversation. But his presence does not arouse any feelings beyond the warmth of a cousin.
After a few dances, a growing restlessness overcomes you and you long for solitude and a break from the boisterous mood. Seeking solace, you retreat to the edge of the dance floor, the rim of your wine cup finding comfort at your lips. A single, daring sip empties the vessel and quiets your inner turmoil for a moment. In the distance, your father approaches Laenor once more and engages him in conversation. The scene almost amuses you as you notice that Laenor is beginning to seem annoyed too.
You quickly take another cup of wine and leave the festivities before your father can address you again. Cup in hand, you stroll through the corridors and make your way to your chambers. Weary from the day's events, your only desire is to wrap yourself in solitude. As you enter your private chambers, you free yourself from the confines of your dress and let out a relieved sigh as the lacing at your back loosens.
The garment falls to the floor and surrenders to gravity. Wearing a flowing nightgown, you approach the mirror and carefully untangle the intricately braided pigtails that adorned your head. As you lift the brush and prepare to run it through your silken tresses, an unwelcome interruption sounds in the form of a sharp knock on the door. Irritation flickers across your face as you turn to face the unwelcome disturbance.
"Who is it?" you ask. But no one answers. You sigh and go to the door. You open it.
"What is it?" but you pause as you see your uncle.
"Uncle?" you ask.
He smiles slightly at you, "Niece," he says.
You look at each other for a while.
"Won't you invite me in?" he finally asks you.
"I'm not sure I want to," you reply.
He raises his eyebrows a little, but you take a step to the side.
His hands are behind his back and he smiles at you. Slowly he enters your chambers. You close the door and watch him. You see his broad back and notice that he seems to be looking around.
"Not much has changed in your chambers..." he says somewhat absently as he stands at your desk.
You look at him and smile a little, "Did you come here to inspect my chambers?" you ask him.
He turns to you and has to smile a little again, "No... of course not...", he says almost quietly.
He lets his fingers glide lightly over a book lying on your desk.
"You seemed annoyed," he says finally.
Now you are the one raising your eyebrows, "What?" you ask him.
"Well... At the ball... You seemed upset. Upset that Viserys kept trying to badger you with Laenor's presence," he says, smiling at you.
You roll your eyes a little as you think about it again. "Is it that noticeable?" you ask him.
You walk over to the table and drink from your wine again.
"I don't want to marry Laenor," you say finally.
"I like Laenor, he's nice. But I don't want a man who prefers the company of men," you say, turning to face Daemon.
Daemon grins slightly.
"That's understandable... You want a man who desires you," he says to you.
You have to chuckle a little, but shake your head slightly, "I don't think that's an argument that will meet with my father's understanding," you say.
"Well...", Daemon says, "You will be queen, you should decide who you marry... who will rule with you", he says to you.
You drink again of your wine and look at him. You see a sparkle in his purple eyes.
"I could take you to a brothel, if that would help you decide," he says suddenly.
This hits you unexpectedly and you suddenly have to laugh. Your laughter infects Daemon and you hear him chuckle slightly.
"Thank you very much for your offer, uncle. But I think I will decline," you say with a smile.
You look at each other and notice how close you are. You can literally feel his breath on your skin. Suddenly his lips are on yours. You gasp briefly, but then his hand is on your cheek and he holds you tight. The kiss is wild and passionate. You put your hands on his firm chest and pull him closer to you by his waistcoat. You whimper slightly as he gently bites your lower lip. Daemon breaks the kiss briefly. He is breathing heavily. His thumb wanders gently over your lower lip. His eyes seem to be watching your face closely, as if finding even the slightest sign that you don't want this.
"Do you really want me to corrupt another daughter of the king?" he asks you in his deep voice.
You are also breathing heavily and look at him.
"Shut up, uncle," you say simply.
He chuckles lightly and lets his hand slide down your neck. He pulls you close again and kisses you.
He pushes you backwards slightly and you notice the back of your thighs pressing against the desk. His hands are suddenly on your hips and with one quick movement you are sitting on the desk. Daemon is standing between your legs and he starts kissing your neck. Slowly he lets his lips and tongue glide over your soft skin. His fingers slowly slide along your thigh and you gasp.
"Is that okay?" Daemon whispers as he continues to caress your neck. You just nod and wrap your legs around him.
You feel a slight grin on his lips. You start to unbutton his shirt. More and more of his muscular chest is exposed. You notice slight scars on his skin as he lets go of your neck to pull his shirt over his head. You breathe heavily. You let your fingers wander gently over his chest and feel the scars. You bite your lip lightly.
"Shall we stop for a moment and admire each other's bodies?" he asks you with a teasing undertone.
You look up into his eyes. "Shut up, I said," you whisper. He chuckles softly and kisses you again. His hand continues to wander along your thigh. It slides under your nightgown and you let your hand slide down his neck. You gently grab his neck and pull him closer to you. You notice how your undergarments are getting more and more soaked. When his fingers suddenly slide over your folds, you moan into his mouth. He doesn't hesitate for long and pushes your undergarments aside. He feels your wetness immediately and his fingers are immediately soaked.
A deep groan forms in his chest. His fingers find your clit and start to leave firm but gentle movements on it. You moan again and gasp. You grip his neck tighter and he grins at you.
"You like that..." he whispers.
You just whimper as he moves his fingers faster. You kiss him again and try to undo his trousers at the same time. But you are distracted by his fingers. When he suddenly inserts two fingers into you, your efforts stop.
"Daemon...", you moan a little louder now.
"Yes...? I must prepare you for my cock...", he murmurs simply and lets his fingers slide into you.
You look into his eyes. Your cheeks are flushed and you are breathing heavily. He smiles at you. You moan as he lets his fingers disappear inside you again and again. You close your eyes and pull him towards you. Your lips find his lips and when he inserts a third finger, you just whimper. But you start to move your hips towards him.
Suddenly you hear him open his trousers and they slip to the floor. Your tongues continue to dance around each other as he suddenly stops inserting his fingers into you. Instead, he reaches for your undergarments and pulls them down your legs. You breathe heavily and watch his movements. You see him bite his lip as he just drops your undergarments on the floor. But then your gaze falls on his body. Daemon is standing in front of you without his shirt and trousers. And you see his entire size.
You now bite your lip as you look at his cock. It is big and thick and you can already see a few drops polling around at its tip.
His big hand pumps a few times his hot length and then he lets the tip of his cock slide through your wetness. You hear him grunt softly and can't hold back a moan of your own.
He kisses you again and lets his hand wander to your ass. Slowly he pulls you closer to him and you feel him slowly push his cock into you. You bite your lip. You gasp as his big member almost splits you. But it feels so good. He gives you time to adjust to his size. You start to move your hips towards him. And he takes that as a sign and his thrusts become stronger. With each thrust he is deeper inside you. His grunts get louder and you start moaning in unison with him. He fills you completely. Your arms are around his neck and you close your eyes. His hands are on your hips and he makes you slam down on his cock faster. You cry out in passion. The table beneath you starts to creak with each thrust, it is obviously not designed for such activities.
Suddenly one of his hands is on your shoulder and he pushes you down gently. You follow his instruction and lie down on the table. Immediately his hands are on your hips again, setting the pace. You wrap your legs around his waist to push him closer to you. The slapping of your naked skin and your lustful sounds fill your chambers. With each thrust, he grazes your sweet spot in your wet core. You moan out. Daemon notices how your walls clench around his cock.
Without hesitation, he begins to rub your pearl with his thumb. You reach for his biceps as a wave of excitement floods through you.
"Daemon..." you gasp.
"It's all right, I've got you. Show me how good it is for you... Come on my cock," you hear him say in his deep voice. His thumb moves faster and his thrusts become harder.
And then an incredible feeling floods you.
You moan, but his thrusts don't let up.
"Daemon," you moan and continue to grab his biceps.
"Yes... Yes!" he just grunts. You close your eyes and are a moaning mess. And then you hear him groan loudly. His moans become softer until they subside completely. You are both breathing heavily. You are still lying on your desk. Daemon is still standing between your legs. He lets his head hang down and you feel him slowly pull his cock out of you. You notice his cum leaking out of you and dripping onto the floor. But you can't move. Your eyes are closed and you try to catch your breath. You notice how he gently caresses your thigh.
"I wanted to take Rhaenyra's maidenhead that night... In the brothel...", you suddenly hear him say.
You open your eyes and look at him. He looks at you closely.
Neither of you says anything.
When suddenly he breaks the silence again, "But I couldn't"
You continue to look at him.
"Why?" you ask quietly.
He swallows briefly, "When I saw you that night. You, the perfect, good princess who did something forbidden... That somehow confused me..." he says quietly. His fingers continue to caress your thigh.
"I don't know, I just couldn't," he says a little louder.
You have to smile slightly and sit up.
"So my uncle does have a conscience," you say teasingly.
He has to smile slightly, "Then I guess I shouldn't have taken your maidenhead"
You smile, "Who said you did?"
He looks at you a little startled.
"I was joking," you say before he can say anything.
This time he has to laugh. He starts stroking your cheek.
"Maybe your father had better not find out about this," he says suddenly. But you have the feeling that there is a hint of sadness.
You look at him. Suddenly you have to smile slightly.
"Except... When I tell him I want to marry you," you say.
His eyes grow wide.
"What...?" he whispers.
"Well... He wants me to get married. And I get to have the last word," you say.
"But you are so often annoyed with me," he says with a smile.
"Well... at least that guarantees it won't be boring," you say quietly.
Daemon just shakes his head slightly and leans forward. He kisses you softly.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemond-targaryenx @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @dreamlandcreations
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pray4saint · 8 months
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hi saint!! i was wondering if we could maybe get some dad!dream team headcanons :,) i saw on tiktok this little family doing father’s day & mother’s day gifts and thought it was so cute!! -🐼
dad!dteam hcs
masterlist & descrip. pg. 13+. fem!reader. mom!reader.
a/n. i wasn't sure if you meant like child!reader or mom!reader so i picked mom!reader, the mother of dream team's children euehheheeh
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dream
boy dad > girl & boy dad > girl dad
big, tall, athletic dad, little copycat boy
they actually play catch together in the yard
your son is a carbon copy of dream, down to the shared pouting
they've actually quite good at teaming up against you to go out for ice cream and frozen yogurt
dad!dream would post family pictures on your birthday and your son's birthday + would post date pictures on your anniversary with one picture featuring your son
twitch chat will often hear your son wander into your lover's office asking for cuddles, and from what they can hear, dream lifts him into his lap and holds him while he continues his stream
whenever he buys things for your little boy, he buys something for you too
always asks your son if he wants to go with him to cons and such and does everything in his power to get his kid with him
sometimes he'll ask you to fly over to whatever side of the planet he's on trips just so he can see you both
other times, he'll stay up all night on facetime with your son until your phone fucking dies because he just missed him soooo much
dad!dream who makes sure your kid knows the rest of his family so that, growing up, he has people to talk to – especially his sister because he knows it's hard for kids to tell their parents stuff
dad!dream booking family vacations and always inviting his sister to go so that you guys get at least one night of alone time on the trip
also also also dad!dream who asks every year on your son's birthday if you can have another one because he already adores your first kid and the idea of having more mini hims and mini yous makes his heart melt
when you tell him no, he opts to beg for another cat and it works
there are pictures of dream holding your son and your son holding patches and the secondary cat that weren't even taken by you floating around the internet
sapnap
girl dad > girl & boy dad > boy dad
absolutely is so protective of his girls, online and offline
is always asking you if he seems like he's being too strict or too unkind to your daughter even though he's doing just fine / he's just so worried to be as strict as his dad was
definitely wants another but is more comfortable and actually wants to wait a few years to actually get a grip on parenting
dad!sap who'll be streaming with his friends until his little girl comes padding into the office, asking if she can sit with him and all of a sudden he stops yelling and tells his friends to stop swearing – those are the moments you're so bleeping glad to have had a kid
dad!sap spoiling the shit out of her and you during christmas
asking uncle!dream, george and karl to collectively take care of her so he can take you out on your anniversary and on valentine's and so you can have some damn privacy
dad!sap and uncle!karl letting your little princess paint their nails
lots of cheek kisses for your daughter and matching forehead kisses for you
from the time she starts elementary school to the time she graduates high school he's showing her the standards she should have by taking you and her each out separately at least once a week
^ he opens car and building doors, holds your hands, isn't afraid to ask if either of you want the bill split or for him to pay, offers you first pick of going out or shopping or whatever
dad!sap is also dilf!sap and the fans love it just as much as you do / that side of social media you make sure your daughter never has to see growing up
this post reminds me,, sap always bragging about being with a milf – especially telling them that HE IS THE REASON you're a milf
dad!sap who has to literally tear his daughter from his mom and sisters because they love her so much
george
girl & boy dad > girl dad > boy dad
george strikes me as the type to have twins or kids almost exactly 10 months apart. / yes, if it's not twins, he actually convinced you to have another baby RIGHT after the first
really, really good with getting them to stop fighting – he's literally the kid whisperer or something, at least that what you tell your friends
dad!george who hates leaving his kids with other people, even if it's uncle!dream or uncle!sap but on the occasion you ask for time with just him, he'll compromise
the most dad ever
is always telling the kids 'go ask your mother' when they ask for something he's unsure about and if you tell them to ask him, he doesn't confuse them and just makes a decision
insists on teaching your son that women get 'sick' for a little while each month so he's more likely to help you and also so he's more helpful when he and his sister get older and her period starts
uncle!dream making jokes about your guys starting a family youtube channel and dad!george just hitting him every time he says it because he knows you don't need the stress
teaching both of his kids that it's okay to have standards* but also that it's okay to be independent and not need anyone
*raising their standards; you taking your son out and george taking your daughter out and then switching off the next week
dad!george softening you up to letting the kids start swearing when they get to their tween years
dad!george being on the phone with his friends and his daughter just wants to show him something so he tells his friends to wait a minute
dad!george trying to cook and his son asks if he can help and george just can't help but say yes*
*they end up needing your help and your daughter joins in too
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pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.
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iatenicoshappymeal · 2 months
Text
I searched up Apollo just because and on the Wiki page, it has a separate section for his male lovers! (I know, it's long)
Hyacinth (or Hyacinthus), a beautiful and athletic Spartan prince, was one of Apollo's favourite lovers.[287] The pair was practicing throwing the discus when a discus thrown by Apollo was blown off course by the jealous Zephyrus and struck Hyacinthus in the head, killing him instantly. Apollo is said to be filled with grief. Out of Hyacinthus' blood, Apollo created a flower named after him as a memorial to his death, and his tears stained the flower petals with the interjection αἰαῖ, meaning alas.[288] He was later resurrected and taken to heaven. The festival Hyacinthia was a national celebration of Sparta, which commemorated the death and rebirth of Hyacinthus.[289]
Another male lover was Cyparissus, a descendant of Heracles. Apollo gave him a tame deer as a companion but Cyparissus accidentally killed it with a javelin as it lay asleep in the undergrowth. Cyparissus was so saddened by its death that he asked Apollo to let his tears fall forever. Apollo granted the request by turning him into the Cypress named after him, which was said to be a sad tree because the sap forms droplets like tears on the trunk.[290]Apollo and Cyparissus, by Jean-Pierre Granger (1779–1840)
Admetus, the king of Pherae, was also Apollo's lover.[291][292] During his exile, which lasted either for one year or nine years,[293] Apollo served Admetus as a herdsman. The romantic nature of their relationship was first described by Callimachus of Alexandria, who wrote that Apollo was "fired with love" for Admetus.[153] Plutarch lists Admetus as one of Apollo's lovers and says that Apollo served Admetus because he doted upon him.[294] Latin poet Ovid in his Ars Amatoria said that even though he was a god, Apollo forsook his pride and stayed in as a servant for the sake of Admetus.[295] Tibullus describes Apollo's love to the king as servitium amoris (slavery of love) and asserts that Apollo became his servant not by force but by choice. He would also make cheese and serve it to Admetus. His domestic actions caused embarrassment to his family.[296]Apollo visiting Admetus, by Nicolas-Antoine Taunay, 19th century
Oh how often his sister (Diana) blushed at meeting her brother as he carried a young calf through the fields!....often Latona lamented when she saw her son's disheveled locks which were admired even by Juno, his step-mother...[297]
When Admetus wanted to marry princess Alcestis, Apollo provided a chariot pulled by a lion and a boar he had tamed. This satisfied Alcestis' father and he let Admetus marry his daughter. Further, Apollo saved the king from Artemis' wrath and also convinced the Moirai to postpone Admetus' death once.
Branchus, a shepherd, one day came across Apollo in the woods. Captivated by the god's beauty, he kissed Apollo. Apollo requited his affections and wanting to reward him, bestowed prophetic skills on him. His descendants, the Branchides, were an influential clan of prophets.[298]
Other male lovers of Apollo include:
Adonis, who is said to have been the lover of both Apollo and Aphrodite. He behaved as a man with Aphrodite and as a woman with Apollo.[299]
Atymnius,[300] otherwise known as a beloved of Sarpedon
Boreas, the god of North winds[301]
Cinyras, king of Cyprus and the priest of Aphrodite[302]
Helenus, a Trojan prince (son of Priam and Hecuba). He received from Apollo an ivory bow with which he later wounded Achilles in the hand.[303]
Hippolytus of Sicyon (not the same as Hippolytus, the son of Theseus)[292]
Hymenaios, the son of Magnes[304]
Iapis, to whom Apollo taught the art of healing[305]
Phorbas, the dragon slayer (probably the son of Triopas)[306]
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mvpfoolish · 11 months
Text
01. || first day of school.
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last chapter || next chapter
word count : 1379
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Edith was awakened by that stupid default iPhone alarm, she groaned before picking up her phone and looking at the time.
6:47 am
She sighed before pulling herself out of her bed and wrapping her comforter around her body. She dragged her tired self over to the windowsill before kneeling right in front of it.
"Good morning Rex," Edith smiled opening up her chameleon's enclosure. She gently picked up the pet and walked into her bathroom down the hallway.
She set Rex on a small tree planted in a pot right next to the towel rack. He became yellow indicating that he was excited, this was like a daily routine to him.
Edith finally tore the comforter from herself before wetting her toothbrush and applying toothpaste to it.
2 and a half minutes later she finished, continuing with her morning routine which included washing her face, changing into clean clothes, and most importantly feeding her beloved chameleon.
"Good morning sweet pea," Edith's dad poked his head through the mudroom doorway. "Excited for your very last first day of school?"
"Total, can't wait to be the loner of the year!" The girl looked up from her bowl of cereal.
"Just like every other year." Her brother Sapnap spoke.
"Oh be quiet, be nice to your sister." Allie, her stepmother snapped at the boy.
"She's not my actual sister mom." He replied.
"Excuse me? Go get your brother and leave before you guys are late for school." Allie raised her voice at her son.
"Thanks, Allie." Edith half smiled placing her empty bowl in the sink.
One of the young men came running down the stairs, Basketball and Regular backpacks in hand. "Come on Edith, you had like 40 minutes to put that stupid lizard away yet you choose to do it now, right before we have to leave?"
"I'll be quick I'm sorry," Edith picked up Rex from yet another plant in the kitchen, walking up the stairs and into her room. "I'll be back later, love you." She kissed the chameleon's head before setting him back in his home.
"That's disgusting." Edith heard a whisper from the hallway, of course, one of the infamous boy who hate her for no apparent reason, Clay.
"You're acting like you don't say shit to your cat Clay. I've never said anything to you, I don't understand why you have to be so rude to me." Edith grabbed her school bag, throwing it over her shoulder before pushing past Clay and running down the stairs.
"Love you, Edith, have a good day at school." Her Dad yelled at her as she ran out of the garage door into Sapnap's Truck.
Edith wasn't a very affectionate person. She had a hard time talking about her feelings, along with even saying those stupid 3 word sentences to her father. Though of course she never had a problem saying it to Rex. Then again she didn't feel as if he could judge her anything since y'know, he is a chameleon after all.
"We're picking up George, you'll have to sit in the bed of the truck once we get him," Sap spoke looking over at Edith.
"You're joking, right? Do you not see what I'm wearing? That bed is disgusting, you haven't cleaned it this whole summer."
"Sucks, I already told George we would pick him up."
"You're a piece of shit, I don't know why you guys treat me so bad when I've been nothing but be nice to you two," Edith spoke before crossing her arms against her chest.
A few minutes go by before the three siblings arrive at George's house. Clay hopped out of the truck letting Edith out and letting George in.
Stepping up on the tire, making sure her jeans wouldn't get caught on anything, she threw her leg over just as George walked outside.
"Why's she sitting in the bed?" George asked walking through his front lawn.
"You know my truck is only a 3 seater George, she's fine, get in," Sap yelled out the sunroof.
George and Edith made eye contact as Clay pushed his friend inside the car.
"Are you sure she's okay out there? She doesn't even have a sweater on and it's 38 degrees out guys," George spoke looking through the back window at Edith's back.
"You're right, don't go yet." Clay hopped out of the car, taking off his jacket and offering it to his stepsister.
Edith looked over her shoulder and into the truck before taking the jacket from Clay. "Thank you."
Getting back in, he buckled his seatbelt before Sapnap began driving. "Why do you care if she's cold or not George? Got a crush on her or something."
"What no? I could never, she's not my type. Just thought it would be nice."
Edith's heart sunk. She had to admit. George was pretty cute and was the nicest friend out of her brother's friend group. How could she be such a fool? Of course, she's not George's type. She's got dark brown hair, light brown eyes, acne, scars from her past, horrible eye bags that circled her whole eye, making it look like she always had black eyes, and last but not least, she wasn't the skinniest. The only girls she has ever seen George date were beautiful blonde and blue-eyed girls.
What if she were to just jump out of the moving truck, would it hurt? Do you think she would die? No no no Edith shook those thoughts out of her head as they pulled up to the school. Her stomach began to hurt. Maybe she should've gone online as her father suggested. No no that was silly, she can do this. It's only one last year before she can move away and leave everything behind. Just like her brother did. She missed him, a lot. Maybe too much.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Clay yelled at the girl to give back his jacket. "Edith, Edith! Are you deaf?!"
"Stop yelling at her you stupid bitch." One of Ediths friends, Tina, defended the girl, pushing past the boys and slapping Clays' shoulder. "Edith are you okay?"
"What? Oh sorry. Yes, I'm okay." She apologized before slipping off Clay's jacket and handing it back to him. She jumped out of the bed, while Tina grabbed her hand.
"You don't have to apologize, Edith, It's not-" George was interrupted by Alex making his way over to the truck.
"Sup fuckers." Alex hugged' the brothers.
"God all of you are so annoying." Tina groaned pulling Edith away from the group of boys.
"Tina!" Alex called after her.
"What do you want Alex," Tina turned around making eye contact with her brother.
"Don't forget about tonight."
"What's tonight?" Edith looks at Tina.
Tina pulled the girl along while she spoke. "Don't be mad at me please,"
"Why would I be mad?" Edith pulled her arm away from Tina.
"I'm leaving, not like leaving leaving but I'm going to Mexico for a little while."
"What a little while?"
"Like a month or two.." Tina shrugged.
"A month or two?! Tina, why didn't you tell me? I mean I'm not upset, I'm happy you'll be able to see your family again. I just wish you would've told me sooner." Edith wrapped her arms around the girl.
"I know and I'm sorry, that's why I came today so we could spend some time together,"
"We don't have any classes together Tina what do you mean?"
"Listen I know, and that's why we will be skipping school today." Tina smiled grabbing both of Edith's hands.
"Tina what? I can't skip school. My dad will kill me."
"No he won't E, now let's go,"
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wyvernslovecake · 11 months
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I write a lot about the Eremin family, but I also don't want to leave out the Jeankasa family! So here's some more info about them and their twins, Haru and Marco Jr.
Haru
The older twin who got Jean's hair and pretty much everything else from Mikasa. Her name is ironic since she was born in autumn and not spring, but she was named after Mikasa's mother.
Easy-going and soft-spoken, but also nurturing towards her friends and younger children. She’s a little bundle of sunshine who loves to help out with the chores even when she's really, really bad at it. Also a bit prideful like her father and likes to look her best. A girly-girl and very proud of it.
She is a very artsy-fartsy kid (she gets it from her daddy 😭). Goes through coloring books like most people go through napkins, sometimes staying inside the lines and sometimes scribbling all over the place. But she likes more texture-based art mediums like finger paint and Play-doh.
LOVES CATS. Especially Smokey, Jean and Mikasa's snooty grey Main Coon who was their baby before they had babies. For what it's worth, Smokey shows remarkable patience whenever Haru pushes him in strollers, has him sit at her play table for tea parties paints his claws, or dresses him up in tutus and bows. All the while his face just screams "if you ask if there is a god, look no further than my current existence. What god would allow this?"
Marco Jr
The younger twin with dark hair like his mother and his father's sweet face. I'm still debating on whether or not og Marco is dead in this au or if he's doing good and Jean just decided to name his son after him like the sap he is.
He's a little goofball who likes to laugh and make others laugh too. The kind of kid who writes down the cheesy jokes on the bottom of yogurt cups for later. He’s very excitable, but not as hyperactive or distractible as Luna. Marco has some people-pleaser tendencies, but he is very loyal and determined like his mother.  
Likes to make his action figures and stuffed animals speak in funny voices. It's a habit that continues with inanimate objects as he gets older (yes, I was inspired by Bob from Bob's Burgers doing the same XD) Jean is secretly hoping Marco doesn’t take up ventriloquism in the future. Not that he doesn’t think his son is talented, but Jean doesn’t want one of those creepy as fuck dummies in the house.
He and Haru have a very strong sibling bond. They do almost everything together and share a love of dancing. Haru often looks out for her brother and is the first person he tells his jokes to. Marco in turn is a source of warmth and humor for his sister and loves to draw with her. They also like to play a game with their mom where they try to make her laugh, just like in this short with the Heelers.
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Speaking of Mikasa, she's a stay-at-home mom and wears that title with pride! She and her twins spend many happy hours sharing stories and jokes, doing fun exercise (and the twins marveling at how their mama is practically a superhero) sitting side by side on the couch to read or draw, and taking strolls in the park. Haru is always eager to help her mother wash the dishes or fold the laundry, and Mikasa has turned the fridge into an art gallery for Haru's drawings. Mikasa was the one who taught Marco how to dance and he's always running around her legs until she scoops him up for kisses.
Mikasa fell out of touch with her Japanese heritage for most of her life, so she wants to ensure that Haru and Marco have a stronger connection with their roots. She speaks to them in both English and Japanese, teaches them as much about the culture as she can, and learned how to make them snacks like apple slices with bunny ears. The Ackerman-Kirschteins also practice some Japanese traditions like taking off shoes in the house and even some holidays like hinamatsuri.
Jean’s been playing “the cool guy” for most of his life, but he couldn’t care less about maintaining an image when it comes to his children. Haru and Marco run to greet their father when he comes home from work every day and he always makes time to play with them and help them with their problems. Jean braids Haru’s hair, is a regular guest at her tea parties, and taught her how to draw. Marco always makes him laugh and he returns the favor with tickles and shoulder rides.
I should also mention that while Luna was planned, Haru and Marco were very much not. So Jean was sending a lot of calls and anxious texts to his mom in the early days of parenting since he had no idea if he had what it took to be a good dad to one kid, let alone two. Mama Kirschtein knew he was worrying for nothing and the proof is right before her eyes every time her precious Jeanbo spins around with the twins in his arms in a game of helicopter or whips them up an "omett" by popular demand or kisses their tears away when they scrape their knees. Yeah, she knows he's got this. :)
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greatunironic · 2 years
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The slowburn, getting-together storyline between Eddie and Steve gets angsty (it's what we love to see!) but aside from that, I love how in this universe we get to see Steve happy - he's got a whole new big family who loves and supports him (and keeps trying to nudge him in he right direction romantically despite everything). I wonder what the family dynamics are like, aka how the family views Steve post final battle - Jonathan, Will and El (and by extension, Mike) become siblings because he essentially (or officially?) gets adopted into the Hoppers-Byers clan, where he gets a new mom and dad in Joyce and Hop too (Side note - so in love w El and Steve's relationship here). Max is obviously a little sister (another favourite dynamic) - I'm also assuming that Steve's the only one she traveled for to tell him about the wedding in person and waited to do so because she cares about his thoughts the most? Dustin and Lucas are brothers too - Lucas tells him as much at the wedding + Robin still very much gives platonic soulmate, I-know-you-the-best energy. We get so many stories that are dark and angsty, it's just really nice to see one against the backdrop of a big, supportive found family. I'm also such a sap for stories that champion important platonic relationships as much as romantic ones!
thank you!! i love a romance, but i totally agree: platonic relationships are just as important, if not more important, and we need to tell more stories about them!!
also for this rest:
you can blame jim hopper on this one. in my opinion, in any universe, jim takes one look at steve and is just like (dj khaled voice) another one. it happens slowly, for him, reluctantly. he learns about him in the fall of ‘83 — it’s hard not to clock that fucked up eye on the one kid in the hospital room that doesn’t have parents present, jim’s a very observant man with (previously) little to occupy his time — but he doesn’t like involve himself with steve until the next fucked up adventure they all go on.
and then it’s ‘84 and he’s half-dead on joyce’s sofa and he’s mumbling about how his parents are in germany on business and don’t call they won’t come back, and also he’s not wild about hospitals plus it’ll just upset them, make them look bad, and jim’s like what the absolute fuck. so he takes this kid home for a lot of reasons, some of them the way he protected the other kids, some of them eleven’s big eyes when she hears the mumbles, none of them how this boy is the same age as sarah should’ve been —
steve spends a week in jim’s cabin, healing. and he’s sweet with el and patient and listens as she haltingly talks, nods along and doesn’t push, just waits, watches cartoons with her and laughs at the same jokes, and even if the kid is like “oh it’s just because we’re on the same emotional intelligence level” — yeah, get out of here with that shit, kid, thinks jim. boy’s got a heart on him that’s got nothing to do with his daddy, and jim just lets him come and go as he pleases after that, bringing groceries and making them all dinner and letting el help him with his homework and jim just — decides not to look to closely at it.
so that’s how it starts. to paraphrase a line from another story i’m working on (not remarkable verse) about these two: this kid that jim didn’t want but got, this kid who quietly made space for himself in the heart that jim burnt out — well, jim always did want a son.
(in the summer of ‘86, it’s easier for jim to acknowledge that space, to pry it open wide and let the rest of them in and drag his emotionally stunted children with anxiety disorders along with him. the byers are his step kids, and nancy’s an in-law, and jim supposes max’s is his too since she’s steve’s and lucas is an in-law too, and wheeler ugh fine, and christ okay there’s henderson too, his mom is doing a great job but it takes a village, right? and then that buckley girl is along for the ride, she’s basically handcuffed to steve so there’s another one, and he’s not sure what the deal is with the kid from california but fuck it he might as well parent this one. and munson, well, wayne clearly needs all the help he can get there.)
(with six you get egg roll, he thinks; even though the math on that doesn’t quite check out, the sentiment remains and jim’s gonna need a bigger house.)
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harmonyandco · 1 year
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Gods amongst mortals.
Arch-Magisters or as they are referred to Arch-Mages were always exceptionally rare. In ages past there might have been one in a 1000 magicals who could claim that sort of power. Gifted from birth by whatever creative force watched over human kind, that upon finding their soul mates they would come into their power properly. In those long forgotten ages they were often mistaken for divine entities. Gods if you will. A mistake made easier by the immortal or at least NEAR-immortal natures of many of them. Unfortunately, times takes a toll on all things. The cataclysmic civil war on Atlantis slew most of the Mediterranean Arch-Magisters and their lines. Atlantis survived, albeit hidden, but the nascent 'gods' were slain en-masse in battle. Countless wars, plague and an increasing bent towards inbreeding slowly sapped many ancient and powerful bloodlines of their power and numbers until it is literally unheard of for someone to reach Arch-Magister levels of magic in the modern age. Even the most powerful witches and wizards of the Modern age might only barely tickle the label 'mage'. However, fate, chance or perhaps divine right have changed that. Harry Potter's magical blood is literally seething with potential. His father was born to two powerful lines. The Potter's descended from the Peverells and their connection to death. And the Blacks, with ancient magics dating back to Ancient Egypt. Between the two James Potter was deeply magically strong, but that is nothing compared to his son. You see Lily Potter nee Evans was descended from a line which squibbed out during the Norman Invasion. Her distant ancestors were Norse, of bloodlines related to Arch-Magisters like Frigga and Odin. Harry's own potential may have laid dormant, powerful, but full potential unrealized, had he not met his soul mate. Hermione Granger. Her mother's blood is from a squib line that had in ages past intermarried heavily with Veela. And while Hermione herself has no Veela potential or allure she did inherit their deeply magical nature and propensity for fire. It's her father's line that is rather more interesting though, pushing her potential to a level equivalent to Harry's own. You see the Dagworth Grangers squibbed out a few generations back, this is true. However in the deep, long forgotten annals of their family history they descended from a Pictish Witch by the name of Morgana. Morgana, also known as Morgan Le Fay in modern times was half-sister to King Arthur Pendragon, who's own children all died too young to carry the bloodline. As such, in the twisted and confusing way that these things often go Hermione is in fact the current heiress to the line of Pendragon. This too might have lain dormant or been lost entirely had she not found her soul mate. The Power He Knows Not. Is not love. Though both Harry and Hermione have that in abundance. It isn't even the power of the Deathly Hallows. It is their shared potential to be the first full-blooded Arch-Magisters in over one thousand years. With power beyond modern comprehension. Had they lived in ancient times Harry might have been mistaken for a war-god with a propensity for lightning, and Hermione for a Goddess of Fire and Knowledge. Together they have the ability to defeat the Dark Twisted Mage Voldemort and reforge the world into something new and beautiful. If they can overcome a few troublesome stumbling blocks along the way. Such as an interfering busybody who thinks he knows what the prophecy means, and some idiots who think messing around with a prophesied soul bond is a good idea. Of course, who says their troubles will end with the Blood Wars of the British Isles? Who knows what fate will bring?
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swanmaids · 1 year
Text
mama’s boy
eärwen, and her eldest son.
late entry for @finweanladiesweek day 5: ladies who married in. 
tw: pregnancy, postpartum depression. 
1469 words. 
“Remember the womb of your mother, in which the Creator of all things fashioned you…bringing you forth in the world while the birth-pangs tore at her vitals because of you.”
Geoffrey of Monmouth, The History of the Kings of Britain (c.1136).
Motherhood did not come naturally to High Queen Eärwen Olwiel. She had to learn it. 
 And what a lesson it was! While pregnant with her firstborn she recalled how her own mother, the Falmari’s beloved queen Eärtári, had borne three sons with unwavering dignity and grace, and quailed in the face of that legacy. At least, she hoped, motherhood might come as easily to her as it apparently had to her law-mother, and both law-sisters. But this was not to be.
 Being pregnant was miserable. She was sick and tired almost every day, and the kicks – the kicks! If there was any doubt that her firstborn was going to grow strong and powerful – and Eärwen thought that a certain brother-in-law very much did doubt it – then that doubt surely must have been dispelled when healers had to be called to strap up her broken ribs. Occasionally Anairë and her ladies would come to her quarters to gush about what a blessing from the Valar her condition was, and Eärwen, hot and nauseated and too exhausted to leave the chaise-lounge, had thought herself very noble and strong willed indeed for not reaching forward and strangling her best friend. 
 Birth did not bring relief. She and Arvo had been unsure of how much fëa to exert in the creation of their firstborn, and soon realised they had likely gone overboard. Proof that we really are Finwë’s kin, she found herself bitterly thinking more than once. Once he was born, Eärwen had had many expectations – that her energy and spirits would rise again, that she would look upon her child and feel that “unbreakable bond” which all mothers were supposed to feel – but they were not realised.
 She found herself more exhausted than she had thought possible, as though all of her energy had been sapped from her body and her limbs were too heavy to lift, but infinitely more disturbing were her feelings towards tiny Ingoldo. His cries grated, his mouth on her breasts was agony, and when she looked at him, she often wondered if he loved her at all. The worst mother in this family, she thought to herself, distraught, and found herself breaking down in sobs almost daily. Arvo would take her in his arms and try to reassure her, but half the time he was so tired himself that it was no use, and the rest of the time it was so inexplicably maddening that she had to restrain herself from snarling and snapping at him.
 Once, Nerdanel, radiant, perfect, Nerdanel who already had three perfect sons, had called on her during those days and said Well, we have to give up everything for our children, don’t we, after Eärwen had dared to mention that she might like a full night’s sleep, and that was her limit. She had gathered Arvo and Ingoldo and his favourite nurses and declared that they would be leaving for their summer house in Alqualondë, and she would hear no argument. 
 After that, life got easier. Eärwen may have married a Noldo-Vanyar, but she was Falmari through and through, and hearing the crash of the waves, tasting the salt in the air and walking barefoot over the rocks and sand was a balm to her heart that she had not known she had needed. Away from Tirion, she could rest, and she could breathe, and it was with great joy she found that with her energy returning, she could love her son as she had always wished. Ingoldo was a cheerful, inquisitive child who, thank the Valar, seemed to have no idea of his mother’s distress in the first year of his life. He loved to explore the land with his parents, meticulously cataloguing creatures found in rockpools and plants growing in the dunes, and as he grew into his adolescence he was even granted leave to journey on the swan-ships with his mother’s kin.
 Yet Eärwen’s heart was unsettled still, for she worried that he was perhaps lonely, especially in comparison to his Finwëan cousins with their multitudes of siblings. So although she and Arvo were trepidatious, remembering well the difficulties of Ingoldo’s birth, they tried again – and again, and again. 
 Her other three children were much easier. Though the pain of pregnancy was not reduced, she and her husband had learned their lesson about how much of oneself was truly required to beget a child, and among her own family she felt calmer and safer. But the biggest difference was Ingoldo himself –  what a wonderful big brother he was! He took care of her throughout her pregnancies, and doted on his younger siblings, especially little Nerwen. As Eärwen lay exhausted in childbed, her daughter asleep on her breast, Ingoldo scooped her up gently and kissed her forehead, and said mother, she’s perfect. Eärwen felt her eyes well up, as she thought to herself, how could I have ever thought you did not love me? 
 In that moment she was certain she would never doubt her firstborn’s love for her again. 
 Eärwen had scant foresight. She had never been called The Wise. And she was wrong. 
 How could she have imagined what was to come, that dreadful time after the Death of the Trees? All the hideous events had at some point blended in her mind; her law-father dead, her people slaughtered, her family gone. Then her husband returned, but her children did not, and he brought more bad tidings. The Fëanorian faction had killed her kin to take the precious swan-ships, the greatest work of her people’s hands, and her children had followed their cousins over her kin. What had she done, or failed to do, that her children would come to steal from the corpses of her family – their family? But that was still not the worst thing, for later she would hear that all of her brothers had died defending the ships; the very ships that the Fëanorians had set alight, leaving her children to face the Ice.
 There were no words in any language for the roiling flood of emotions that she felt then. She had simply pressed her hands to her face and wept. 
 This was still not the end.
Years after the rising of the sun, she felt her sons die. 
She had not thought they would ever return to her. The words of the Doom were clear, and she knew them by heart. But scant sun-years after his passing, a missive by raven summoned them to Mandos, with the blessed news – Ingoldo would be returned to them! Arvo had been ready to run for the stables as soon as he had finished reading, but Eärwen had simply slowly sat down, and put her head in her hands and sobbed. He stroked her hair. I know, he said, I know.  
Did he know? Did anybody know how to entangle the knot of emotions surrounding her heart? Did she know? Eärwen did not think so. She bade him goodbye, and took her place as Queen Regent, and sat in thought for a very long time. 
Of course she loved Ingoldo, of course she missed him, of course she wanted to fling her arms around him and bid him never to leave her again. 
And yet. 
And yet. Did her chest not ache with fury and sorrow, whenever she remembered the blood staining the shore on the doorstep of the home where she had birthed her children? Did she not still mourn the hollowed-out carcasses of the swan-ships? Did she not still weep for her brothers, only one of whom had yet returned from death? Should she put all of her grief and anger to one side, because Ingoldo was her son? That was, surely, what a good mother would do? Yet Eärwen could not help but feel each wound to her fëa as deeply as she did. It had taken her years to mend the tear in her marriage that the flight of the Noldor had left, and Arvo had turned back. 
 Her son had not.
 She pondered these questions, and more, as her husband sent her missive after missive: He is calling himself Finrod now, he is beloved among Men and Dwarves, he has bad news of Aegnor, his fëa is still hurting from his death. She read each letter, and each time she thought she was done with tears, and each time she was wrong, and she would finish them with the salt-taste of the ocean in her mouth and the ink smeared across the parchment. 
In the end, there was only one real choice. 
 Eärwen Olwiel was not a perfect mother. Finrod Felagund was not a perfect son. When he reached the palace in Tirion and saw her for the first time in an Age, they held each other in joy all the same. 
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Text
This week on
Were where we
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Love Mate
Episode 5
Jun thinking about their date, while looking at the cactus that finally bloomed was sweet.
Haram! Stop ignoring him, will you? You know he has been hurt.
How are you disturbing by answering him, if he makes contact?
Not sus at all, the way your behaving with eachother.
Haram, your such a sap. But secretly you're not the only one.
Episode 6
I like this kind of softness.
Omg, that toy dogs brings back memories. We had one when I was little.
Give Haram an inch and the he will take the whole yard. Or how we would say it. Give him a finger and he will take your hand. Of course he's going to pull you towards him, when you give him a hand like he asked.
Jun, does not look happy. Does he know this DK? Ah, he's the asshole ex.
Haram, why are you walking away? It's almost like you don't want to deal with his sad feelings. Are do think you're helping him. Like you thought when you didn't want to disturb Jun, when he was thinking things over.
Deep in My Heart
Episode 2
It's her sister? And the switch always happens at the same time? I wonder why, and why twelve at night?
I hope Yi Fei's student is okay.
Apparently they switch back at the same time as well. At six. I wonder why those times specifically.
I don't it will be good for his student if words gets out. So I don't think he will give the memory card back to Hanbin.
I wonder why he didn't see and hear anything when Yi Fei touched her hand. Maybe because Hanbin shares her body with her sister?
He's the killer, isn't he? Careful Hanbin, I don't think you really hit him with your car. Good thing Yi Fei showed up.
Kung Fu Season 1
Episode 3 "Patience"
You will find your place again Nicky inside the family.
Who keeps calling you Althea? I hope you're not in trouble.
Something doesn't add up. Who's stopping the union. And apparently their workers are exposed to chemicals?
That's some serious overreacting. Poisoning a worker because she wants to make a union?
Zhilan has two artifacts now. I wonder what she needs the weapons for. Does she need them for protection against something?
My Perfect Stranger
Episode 7 "A Hidden Path"
What happend with the two brothers? Did an accident happen and was that also the moment Heeseop found out about his brother being the murderer? If my assumption about him knowing is correct that is.
Why were you at the hospital Heeseop and did you trash the cap, cause you think something is up with your brother?
Wait, Yoonyoung's aunt was the second victim?
This sucks, Soonae is so smart and willing to learn. But then was a time parents prioritized their sons getting higher education above their daughters.
I mean. She is a wild card.
Huh, Yooseop is coming to Haejoon's rescue?
I like that Bumryung isn't mad that Heeseop has a crush on his girlfriend. But then he went and said: should I give it to you? Should I give you Soonae? Like dude!!! The fuck, even as a joke. And Heeseop's face when he said that. You and me both. You and me both.
That's the thing about time travel. You never know what's supposed to happen, what isn't and triggers what.
Even with new variables, some things remain fixed inside the stream of time.
So Bumryung is that kind of guy, huh. I'm really done with Bumryung, and so is Heeseop. Good.
Guess, some things remain fixed, came to bite us in the bud. The first victim still wound up dead. Only at a different moment.
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Episode 8 "Turning Point"
Two at once!
There's more than one culprit, isn't there?
I hate it when press is their to take pictures. When their taking pictures of a father grieving his daughter.
I think both Yooseop and Misook know more about what's going on than they let on.
Don't give up on yourself Haejoon. There's still time.
Yeonwoo is a smartypants. Maybe he will be able to talk some hope into his son.
I don't believe you Heeseop, when you say you did it. Cause I still think it's your brother.
Something happened in their past didn't. And that's why he's protecting his brother. I mean, the notes left by the bodies suggest the murderer has a problem with women who read/are smart. And nothing in his past behaviour suggest Heeseop thinks like that. I mean he fell in love with Soonae when he saw her reading. So yeah, I still think it's Yooseop. Or he's at least involved somehow.
Bad and Crazy
Episode 4
He didn't really betray him, right? It's to trick a confession out of him. Right?
I'm glad In Seon has her uncle.
You do need to sleep guys!
Let's try it out
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Oh No! Here Comes Trouble
Something inside the family?
Someone who everyone loves, huh. I wonder.
What the hell! Was that a plane?
Has the ink the family uses some supernatural abilities?
Episode 2
I think he wants you to write him something.
Episode 3
Why is he always hitting him. Is it because he gets flustered about something and he doesn't know how to deal with it?
Because my sister was watching and I was in the same room
American Born Chinese
Music is emotion
Enhypen - Bite Me
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This MV has a tw for Sfairesphobia and Trypophobia.
Song: 👍
MV: 👍👍
Afterwards I listened to the whole album and with noting to distract my brain from immersing myself in the song, I liked it slightly better.
The Rose - Cure
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Song: ❤️
MV: 😊 ❤️
So glad I was able to see them live. Still mad at myself I forgot to bring my lightstick 😒
Onewe - abcdefu cover
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Song: ❤️
Cover: 👍
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Song: ❤️
MV: 👍
Here we go again
The Eight Sense: Episode 4
Unintentional Love Story: Episode 8
The Good Place: Episodes 11, 12 and 13
My Perfect Stranger Episode 1
I forgot that the car appeared before Haejon while he was driving.
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utterlyotterlyx · 1 year
Text
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Faith
Chapter Two - Poise and Precision
Warnings - None
Word Count - 2994
Chapter One
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Bridgerton House had always been a home filled with chatter, laughter, and love; it was an environment that Violet and her late husband, Edmund, had always encouraged.
The drawing room had become rather interesting, Benedict sat in the corner of the space sketching whatever came to his mind, occasionally peering upward to snicker at his younger sister who was trying and failing to dance with Gregory, "I do not think she is very good," Little Hyacinth spoke in what Benedict was sure she thought was a whisper, though, it was actually quite the opposite.
"I believe she can hear you."
"I can hear you," Eloise deadpanned rather loudly from across the room.
"Ow! Watch my feet!" Gregory complained as Eloise stepped on his toes for perhaps the millionth time that day.
Eloise was exasperated and threw her hands in the air in complete annoyance, "Might we be done?" Benedict and Hyacinth took pleasure in snickering at their sister in her bewildered state.
"If you are to catch The Queen's eye after this morning's events, then you must be perfection...."
"I believe it was the event that was perfection, mama," Eloise retorted, "The best thing that happened to me today was the return of Lady Marella, it means that all of the attention shall be on her, and not me."
"Shocking that Eloise Bridgerton was not named the season's diamond after all, was it not?" Benedict poked as he sent his sister a look of complete mockery just as a rather unsettled Anthony entered the room.
"Was anyone else aware that dear Colin has apparently decided to add Albania or some such place to his itinerary as he gads about the world?" Anthony's sleeves were slightly rolled up and his hair was tousled, he had clearly been pulling at the strands whilst he agonised at his desk.
Eloise had continued to dance at that point, albeit begrudgingly, "No. But how happy for him that he can simply decide to do that."
Violet rolled her eyes and leaned forward slightly in her seat, looking to her eldest son expectantly, "Joining us for tea, Anthony?"
Lord Bridgerton hummed, "I am afraid I must pass. Too many calls on my funds today. Now that the season has started, I shall need to fill your coffers at the modiste, and oversee the hiring of a few extra staff, and your ring, I shall need it. The field by Ferryhallow - I was thinking we might hold off on leasing them this year due to the hard frost-"
"I beg your pardon?" Violet had leaned evermore forward in her chair, examining her eldest with surprise.
"The frost hardens the soil, saps it of nutrients," Anthony spoke plainly to her.
"That is very well, but you requested my ring?"
"Father's betrothal ring," to Anthony, such a request should not have been questioned so much.
Benedict had placed his sketchbook down upon hearing the words spew from his brothers' mouth, "Did someone catch your eye at the presentation, brother?"
"I bet it was Lady Marella, was it not?" Eloise held a smug grin.
"I thought all of the young ladies looked beautiful."
Anthony sighed, "Not particularly," he posed the words to Eloise before he turned to Hyacinth, "All of the young ladies looked the same. Like young ladies," Anthony shifted his gaze to Violet, "I should simply like to be prepared when the opportunity presents itself."
"The opportunity...."
"I have already compiled an index of the season's eligible misses and have arranged interviews," the words came out and everyone stopped what they were doing in pure shock, interviews?
"Dearest, I shall be more than happy to give you my ring when you find someone with whom you are very much in love. Until then, you shall not receive it," Violet spoke boldly and plainly to her son, clearly not onboard with his latest tirade.
"Very well."
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"What on earth..." Marella's words faded as trawls of staff entered the drawing room where she was sat with her mother and sisters, they each held two large bouquets of flowers and at least thirty staff must have entered the room, placing the flowers on whatever surface they could before leaving just as quickly.
"It seems like your presence did exactly as we had hoped," Sofia looked unsure as she eyed all of the flowers, the presentation had only been that morning, and to have so many flowers delivered within such a short timeframe was certainly one of the highest honours.
"I am starting to think we may have moved a little too boldly, madre," Marella grazed about the room, her fingertips brushing against the velvet petals of every bouquet she could touch, "They are rather beautiful however," there was a faint smile upon her lips as she spoke.
"Well, we must begin to prepare you for the opening ball this evening," Sofia rose from her seat and approached her daughter, pulling at the skirt of her dress and prodding her fingers in her braids.
"It is far too early for that mama," Francesca called out from her place across the room where she sat reading as she always did.
"Agreed, I would propose that we keep Marella here, under lock and key where no man can ever touch her," Lorenzo entered the drawing room and seemingly glided to his sisters' side, glancing about at all of the flowers warily, "Tonight shall certainly be interesting."
Sofia scoffed at her children before turning her attention to Marella, "These flowers mean that you have already stolen the attention of all the men in the ton, if we go about this in the correct manner then you will have them all trailing at your feet come morning."
"I do wish to have a love match, madre," Marella paused as she looked about the room, "I would appreciate the chance at least, a chance to have the love you and father shared."
Sofia felt a lump form in her throat as she allowed herself to think of her late husband for a moment, and she cupped her daughters' face gently, "Of course, my dove."
There was a strange silence, one in which Marella knew everyone in the room was thinking of him, "I remember him dreading this," Lorenzo spoke softly and his eyes seem trapped in a distant memory.
"What do you mean?"
Lorenzo pulled himself back to their reality and gave his sister a small yet sad smile, "He dreaded the time when you would have to marry, he hated the thought of anyone taking you away from our family."
"Is that so?"
Sofia hummed in agreement, "Gabriele told me many times that no man from any walk of life would ever be enough for our shining sea, he said that the moment he had to give you away would be one of great sadness."
There was a pause and Marella's eyes glistened with sadness, reminiscing her father had not been something she enjoyed doing, "Well, enough of this. I do not wish to be a babbling mess this evening," she said with a chuckle, one that was mirrored by her family, "I will be in my room," she told them before taking one last glace at the array of flowers in the drawing room and leaving.
"She still blames herself, does she not?" Lorenzo didn't look to his mother, but she knew he was speaking to her as his orbs stayed trained on the door his sister had disappeared through.
"I fear as though she always will."
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Lady Danbury always managed to astound all who walked through her doors, and that night, that ball, was no exception.
The conservatory had been newly built that year, it was crafted from brilliantly clear glass, so clear that you could see every star that stared down at the extravagant affair from their cradle in the sky. Lamps glittered every inch of the building, mountains of exotic flowers caressed the walls, beams and tables; and genteel chatter filled in whatever gap the decor could not. The lights reflected off of every petal, allowing a golden hue to bounce about the room.
Amongst all of the gentle and refined conversation, the Bridgertons entered the first ball of the season, just arriving to the affair themselves, “Stop fussing with your dress,” Anthony ordered under his breath, sending curt smiles to passers-by.
“You look lovely, dear,” Violet looked about, checking if any soul was peering at her daughter in distaste for her strange behaviour.
“I look like a prize calf, trussed up for auction,” Eloise was in clear distress at that point, a thin layer of sweat on her brow as she glanced about the room, praying that no man approached her position.
“Moo...” Benedict teased into her ear, only to gain a harsh swat from their mother who was most unimpressed.
“Even Daphne felt most apprehensive at her first official ball, and look how well her season turned out.”
From the corner of her vision, a young boy approached the clan, making Eloise visibly tense, “Come, sister. The cakes at these occasions are surprisingly good,” the pair linked arms and disappeared into the crowd.
Meanwhile, Anthony looked about and frowned tightly, “It truly is a sparse crop,” he told Violet is disdain.
“I am sure there is someone here who will charm you,” she noted the flocks of eligible women nearby and inwardly smirked to herself, “After all, this is the season the Viscount intends to find a wife,” Violet announced to the room, and sure enough, the simple sentence was enough for the sharks to take the bait.
“You honestly just did that.”
“I believe I did.”
Swarms of mamas and their daughters circled Anthony, their wrists held out with their dance cards dangling for Anthony to scribe his name on to. It was quite overwhelming for him, and all he wanted to do was retreat in a dark corner and be free from the attention.
Anthony did not realise the open doors behind him, not until one of the ladies before him pulled her wrist away whilst gazing upward. The Viscount turned slightly and saw her, at first he thought he had found an angel, but then he realised that angels did not walk amongst men. 
Guided by her brother, the Duke, and her mother, Marella made her way down the steps with her chin raised and shoulders pinned back; so poised that Anthony was sketching her collarbones deep within his mind. As she passed, Marella glanced sideward and locked eyes with the man who was staring at her with parted lips, with perfectly groomed hair, and dark yet hypnotising orbs.
Lorenzo nudged her softly, breaking her gaze from the man on the steps and focusing ahead, “Not him,” his voice was low and hushed as he guided her through the crowd of hungry-eyed men.
“Why not?” Marella attempted to find the man again over the crowd, only to be confronted by a scowling brother and a flute of lemonade.
“Anthony Bridgerton is a rake, dear sister,” Lorenzo sipped from his glass and looked about unapprovingly at all the men who had migrated to their position.
“Anthony...”
“He is a Viscount, Lorenzo. Perhaps he would be the best choice of them all,” Sofia squeezed her daughters’ hand, “My dove, all of these men are desperate for a moment of your attention, let us get that dance card filled, shall we?”
The night moved on rather quickly from that point, Marella’s dance card was filled in a matter of minutes by men of her choice, though she was not allowed to decline any offer. Anthony seemingly did not leave the dancefloor, and Eloise had sunk into some dark corner of the room.
“There you are!” Eloise exclaimed once she had finally found her best friend, Penelope Featherington, who was startled by her friends’ sudden appearance, “Oh, Pen. I am so glad to see you. Mama is already being insufferable,” her voice was tense, and Penelope felt sorry for her friend, it was clear that Eloise was not ready for that side of society, and she had been thrusted into it with no choice.
“At least she did not see fit to dress you as a sunflower. I declare a bee keeps mistaking me for the real thing,” Penelope attempted to lighten to mood slightly, though it didn’t seem to work.
“I think the yellow suits you well, My Lady,” an angelic voice found them, and they both turned to find Marella stood there looking as beautiful as ever, “Penelope, is it?”
“Yes, Lady Orsini,” Penelope bowed her head slightly, “What are you doing here of all places? Surely there are rows of men waiting for the mere opportunity to dance with you?”
“Please, call me Marella,” her smile was warm and kind, “I suppose I needed a minute, the men in this city are rather demanding.”
“I concur, Lady Marella,” Eloise glided into the conversation and stole Marella’s attention.
“I am glad that someone does, Miss Eloise.”
“You look beautiful this evening, Lady Marella. That dress compliments you wonderfully,” Penelope told her, she had noticed the dress before all else when she had entered the room. The garment was tight at the bodice and composed of pale pink silk with white lace that flowed from the bodice to the waist, and then continued down the skirt like a waterfall; the sleeves were tight against her skin and gloves reached up to her elbow.
“Thank you, it is Italian lace, I have many more that are much more impressive that this one.”
“We shall look forward to seeing them.”
Marella hummed as she looked back out to the dancefloor, realising her moment of respite had come to an end, “Thank you for the conversation, it was a pleasant and welcomed change.”
As the Orsini walked away, Eloise couldn’t help but watch her as she did, noting that she seemed to float everywhere she went, “I do not know if beauty like that is a blessing or a curse.” 
“I presume both,” Penelope muttered as she too watched Marella, and the eyes of the room as it followed her movements like an owl peering down at its prey in the dead of night.
The orchestra swung themselves into something more upbeat which Marella was quite pleased about, if she was being honest, which she always was, she had quite simply had enough for one evening, “I do believe it is my honour to offer you my arm this dance, My Lady,” a deep voice sounded beside her, and she turned her head slightly to the left to get a better look at the owner.
Marquess Evans was by no means a bad looking man, he was actually quite pleasant, with dark features and well-tamed facial hair, and eyes the shade of the sky on a summer morning; his voice was also smooth like honey, and he stood straight with a soft glint in his eye, “You would be correct, Lord Evans. Thank you,” she linked her arm with his own and allowed him to pull her onto the floor just before the melody began and the pair moved in a synchronised manner.
“You are the most graceful partner I have had the pleasure of dancing with this evening, Lady Marella,” he drew her closer to him and looked down on her with a look she couldn’t quite decipher.
“Does that imply that I’m the most graceful of the best or the worst, I wonder,” Marella twirled under his arm and felt him behind her as they circled the dancefloor like every other pair, much to the enjoyment of the eager ton.
“I will let you decide.”
“There is no joy in that,” she felt his hand on her waist, and she noted how large it was as it rested on the curve.
The comment drew a chuckle from his lips, the air scraping across the nape of her neck which sent a somewhat delightful shiver down her spine, “If I gave you all of the answers you seek then we would have nothing to converse about come tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I think you are rather presumptuous, Lord Evans. Who has allowed you to believe that you shall utter a single word to me tomorrow?”
“I have,” he told her as he turned her to face him, his hand steady on her waist whilst the other guided her own in the direction he desired, “I like my chances, Lady Marella.”
“You flatter me, My Lord.”
“Then allow me to promenade by your side tomorrow, I do not find affairs like this one to be the best way to get to know a person.”
The melody slowed slightly, signalling that their time was nearly over, “Find me and I will consider your proposal,” they stepped away from one another and she dropped in a low curtsey as he bowed.
“I will look forward to it.”
The floor dispersed, some couples stuck together like glue whilst others glanced at one another from afar, much like Marella and Lord Evans; he sipped from his flute with eyes trained on her, and she had her head craned to the left, her collarbone flexed in perfect view whilst her mother droned on about the lovely event that Lady Danbury had put together.
“Tell me you are done with this, I beg,” Lorenzo appeared, “I do not know how much longer I can stand all of these men gazing at you with such desire.”
Marella hummed and shifted her line of sight to her brother who was fidgeting with discomfort, “We may leave, Lorenzo. I do feel as though I have had enough for one evening.”
“And it would not be the worst thing to leave them wanting more,” Sofia spoke softly, sending wide smiles to all those who passed, “Take your brothers arm and let us be done with this.”
“Please, before another man advances on me-”
“Take my arm right now.”
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Hello my loves,
Here’s chapter two! I hope you like it!
Let me know what you think, my inbox is open for all feedback ♥️
Yours,
Ottie
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sohemotional · 1 year
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Could you write a forbidden love story for Smallville!Finchel where Rachel is Lexana's daughter and Finn is Clois' son, please?
Canon Divergence after Smallville 6x03. Set 20 years later.
Being the son of the Man of Steel had its advantages. Finn could use his super speed to make it to school or anywhere else in the blink of an eye. His super strength made him the ultimate athlete. Being very tall and muscular like his dad didn't hurt his chances when it came to sports and popularity either. His clumsy, quirky side on the other hand... that definitely came more from his mom, as she always said. 
"Rise and shine, Smallville Jr!"
He was having yet another dream about flying over the town of Smallville when suddenly he blinked, looking up into hazel eyes. His mom just chuckled as Finn somehow fell out of bed. The tall boy lamented the fact that summer and lazy days at the Kent farm were finally over.
The only thing he had to think about during those long, hot days were his chores but his abilities helped him to get through them in just a few minutes, then he could be back to playing video games, reading comic books and doing absolutely nothing. Just the way he liked it.
"C'mon, alien superpowers or not, you're running late, Superboy."
"Sorry Mom! I'll be ready in a minute!"
Finn eventually emerged in one of the signature, blue flannel shirts he always wore. He and his dad definitely had a similar taste in clothing. He drank milk straight from the carton and smiled sheepishly as his mom narrowed her eyes at him.
"His first day of high school. This sure brings back memories." Clark smiled proudly as he waved goodbye to his son and daughter. Finn and his younger sister Marley were gone in the flash after hugging their parents goodbye.
"Do you think they'll be okay?" Lois asked quietly, a worried expression on her face as she turned to her husband. Clark chuckled, knowing how much of a softie Lois was especially when it came to her babies. "You know they're... innocent. They get that from you."
"I have faith in them. They'll be fine. Besides, we taught them how to control their powers a million times." Clark replied calmly, thinking about how much he didn't want to be the strict, overprotective dad like his own father was. He wanted more than anything for Finn and Marley to have the fun life he missed out on when he was a teenager, to not feel like they were freaks or that their powers were a bad thing.
Finn and Marley were two of the most popular kids at Smallville High, in contrast to Clark's experience. To the rest of the world, Clark Kent was a mild-mannered reporter and his kids were ordinary teenagers. No one realized that he had a secret life as the world's greatest and most famous hero. Sometimes Clark let Finn and Marley join him on the less dangerous rescue missions, learning what it took to protect the innocent.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" Lois leaned up, kissing him on the cheek. He cupped her face, kissing her sweetly. They had evolved from two people who couldn't stand the sight of each other to the most romantic lovebirds in the world.
"Only a million times. When did you become such a sap?" He joked, dodging her when she pretended she was going to hit him and they both chuckled as Lois chased him around the porch. Their dog, a big, fluffy golden retriever called Bonnie chased both of them as well, wanting to get in on the action. Martha Kent watched the couple from the kitchen where she sat with her cup of coffee, rolling her eyes fondly at their antics. She was pleased that her son had grown into such a good man and now he had a family off his own.
___
"Are you ready for school, Sweetheart? I'll drop you."
Lex wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders as his brunette daughter came into the kitchen of the Luthor mansion. She was so beautiful just like her mother, he thought and had that same gentle innocence he associated with Lana.
The dark-haired, green eyed woman and her husband brought Rachel into a group hug. They were a close knit family. Ten year-old Eric was smirking at her, playing a video game as Rachel walked in, both kids wearing nerdy looking sweaters. Fourteen year-old Rachel's long, dark hair was reminiscent of her mother's while Eric was a mixture of both parents with pale skin, sandy hair, green eyes and Lana's eye shape but a mischievous look and half-smile that were all Lex. His playful, cheeky side definitely was part of his Luthor heritage as well. Their parents were proud of how academic both children were, easily ranking at the top of their respective classes every year.
"I can't wait for this school year to begin. I'll join the drama club and the glee club..."
"You know you don't have to join everything, Rach," Lana told her gently, chuckling at Rachel's enthusiasm. "It's fine if you want to but your daddy and I will love you just the same if you don't."
"But Mom, when you were my age you were a cheerleader... you were the most popular girl at school."
"You’re right I was but eventually I realized cheerleading isn't for me and popularity isn't all it's cracked up to be." Lana pinched Rachel's cheek, gazing at her fondly. She sighed, thinking it felt like a second ago she was holding newborn, tiny baby Rachel in her arms while Lex looked on proudly with tears in his eyes.
"Your Mom is right, Rachel. It's great that you want to be a singer, you're ambitious - it's in your Luthor genes - but don't feel like you need to be perfect to please us. All that matters is that you try your best."
Rachel smiled, accepting a kiss on the cheek from her dad. She was close to both parents and was in awe of her mother’s beauty but had always been a total Daddy’s girl. She and her dad understood each other perfectly.
"Thanks Mom and Daddy. Daddy, please don't drive too recklessly today."
Lex laughed lightly, finding it amusing that his daughter never approved of how fast he drove and his other cocky ways. His expression fell when he suddenly remembered a young boy with dark brown hair and innocent blue eyes being worried about his driving in a similar way. It felt like an infinity ago. He shook his head, clearing his mind of any thoughts of his old friend.
Lex dropped Rachel and Eric off at their separate schools, kissing Rachel on the forehead. Rachel was the opposite of a rebellious teen - she didn't ask him to park a million miles away from school so she wouldn't be seen with him or act like she was disgusted with her dad. She was proud of being a Luthor. 
"Are you sure public school is the right decision, Lana? I thought we decided to keep Eric and Rachel in private school as much as possible...after all... the Luthor name doesn't exactly help them fit in and I should know. I just hope Rachel stays safe."
Lana shrugged, leaning into her husband's side. She loved his protective side and after twenty years of marriage, there was still that spark between them whenever he so much as touched her or her eyes met his piercing blue ones.
"Having a whole team of bodyguards tracking her should help. I think it's best that we respect Rachel's decision. She kept saying she wants a more normal high school life. Our kids have never had to worry about money or anything the other students have to deal with. Maybe it's a good experience for her to not live like a celebrity for once."
“I don’t know Lana... Rachel... you know she’s soft. She has always had that sensitive side. People will take advantage of that.”
“I wonder who she gets that side from?” Lana grinned playfully.
"If anyone hurts her - especially one of those meteor rock tyrants - I'll destroy them." Lex announced, his voice dropping low and deadly while Lana nodded, her own expression becoming darker. She loved knowing that she was the only one who knew and had access to her husband's secrets - the experiments he had in Luthorcorp labs, the weapons he had developed.
As she saw it, the two of them were the king and queen of the Luthor empire while Lionel was more powerless than he ever had been before. Lex had the old man on a tight leash and had warned him not to ever harm their children if he wanted to see them again. Their children knew the truth about what their parents were doing and knew that the Luthor couple was fighting to protect the greater good, despite the unsavory methods they sometimes used. Lana finally had a man in her life who was completely honest with her and that was one reason why she knew Lex was the love of her life.
"Now where were we, Darling? You look ravishing today, as always." Lex smirked, taking Lana into his arms and the two of them made love in the master bedroom. Lana sighed as he completely swept her off her feet with a few charming words and gentle touches. It was frenzied and intense, both of them knowing they had their duties to get back to and the forbidden aspect of it only made it more exciting.
___
Rachel's first day wasn't going as well as she thought it would. She had no one to sit with at her classes or talk to in the sea of unfamiliar faces. Though she had introduced herself to several students in her usual cheerful, animated way, everyone had just rolled their eyes at her or ignored her. She blushed when the tallest boy she had ever seen with a boyishly handsome face walked right into her. She had never had physical contact with a boy before.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry! I'm always doing that!" He yelped, looking apologetically at Rachel.
"That's fine. I'm also very clumsy at times." Rachel replied sweetly. The boy smiled at her in a friendly manner for a moment but when he noticed the way his friends - a boy with a Mohawk and a girl with blonde hair and hazel green eyes were staring at him, shaking their heads, his smile dropped and he walked away hastily.
Rachel sighed, taking out her phone to text her dad and her bodyguard. Even they seemed to be too busy to reply to her texts. As much as she loved them, it made her sad that her bodyguards, her little brother and her parents were always the only friends she had as no one in her age group ever wanted to befriend her even though she tried hard to act kindly. Her father told her he was unpopular as well and that she shouldn't worry about it but every so often, the lonely feeling was almost too much to cope with.
___
Rachel put on a fake smile, pretending that everything was okay that day when she came home from school and her parents asked if she was alright. Lex and Lana looked at each other, knowing that Rachel wasn't being fully honest with them but not wanting to pry into her life. Every night, she played board games with Eric as she usually did, the family's beloved black cat Tallulah circling their feet.
The small brunette girl was walking past the football field one day when she noticed the group of cheerleader girls she had come to recognize as the school's Queen Bs, smirking and laughing at her. She saw the frosty blonde with the hazel eyes and her friend, a Latina girl with black hair staring at her the most. The blonde was egging the others on. Rachel was terrified of these girls and walked in the other direction.
Later that day, Rachel was walking past the football field again, hoping that she was alone. She absently clutched the gold necklace with the star pendant that her Daddy had given her as a gift when she was six for his “Little Star.” The field seemed to be empty. Then someone ambushed her out of nowhere. It was that Latina girl from before who always had the angry expression and she was glaring at Rachel murderously. This was Santana Lopez...Rachel remembered hearing her name being called at attendance.
“What do you think you’re doing, Luthor?” She snarled, advancing on her viciously. Santana was clearly the hotheaded counterpart to Quinn Fabray, that frosty blonde with the tight-lipped smile she always stood beside.
“I’m not doing anything.”
Rachel tried her best to ignore her and that seemed to annoy Santana even more. She stepped in front of the short brunette, blocking her way. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she rolled her neck like a cobra. Rachel shivered, swallowing hard.
“You think you’re the most talented one at this school, don’t you? You think you’re the biggest star in the sky?”
“W-what are you talking about?”
“You get all the solos in Glee club. It’s always about you. I’m more talented than you are, Luthor. I’m the one who deserves the spotlight and now all of a sudden everyone only wants to talk about Rachel Luthor.” Santana muttered in a bitter tone.
“I’m sure you’re very talented. Perhaps you should practice more, Santana and ask for more solos instead of directing your hostility toward me.”
“I’m sick of you being around. This school would be better without you.”
Rachel frowned, freezing and pressed her lips together as she faced Santana. She had been bullied constantly at her previous school, a private academy for girls and the one before that. Her dad had pulled her out of some of her previous schools and spoken to the principals, trying to help her find one where she fit in better but nothing seemed to help. Now it was happening here as well. Rachel felt determined to stand her ground for once as Santana glared at her with her flashing ink dark eyes.
“I don’t know why you’ve decided that I’m your arch nemesis, Santana, but I won’t let you push me around. Your jealousy of me suggests that you’re scared or perhaps very insecure and perhaps you should consider therapy. I’ll inform the school’s principal about your bullying if you continue to torment me. You don’t scare me.”
Santana huffed, clearly annoyed that Rachel wasn’t taking her on and her eyebrow arched dangerously when the shorter brunette talked. Rachel gasped as Santana held out her hand with the palm open and there was a large flame dancing, hovering over her palm. It was like it was magic but Rachel knew magic didn’t exist. Then Santana seemed to lose all control and her body erupted into flames that shot out towards Rachel at the same time she lost her temper. Santana was yelling in anger but it was like she couldn’t control herself.
“Wait, Santana...stop! What’s going on?! Help, someone! Someone save me!” Rachel cried. She tripped and almost fell over in to the flames. Someone swooped in as quick as a flash, catching her before her feet could even touch the ground.
“Stop, Santana. Leave her alone.” A masculine voice warned as he placed Rachel back on the ground.
All of a sudden there was a tall, hulking figure in front of Rachel, shielding her body from the intense heat. It was that boy from before, the charming, tall one with those very light amber eyes, freckles and short brown hair. Rachel didn’t know how he did it but he shoved Santana away, the fire not even hurting him and tossed her back like if she weighed nothing. The black-haired girl screamed as she was sent through the air. Santana rolled across the ground, hitting her head and seemed to fall unconscious. Finn winced, realizing he had thrown her a little too forcefully.
Rachel couldn’t see what was happening as she turned away with her hands covering her eyes but all of a sudden the fire was gone and the boy was smiling at her warmly.
“You... you saved me! You’re so strong...how did you do that?”
“It’s nothing,” He laughed awkwardly. “I’m glad you’re okay, although Santana looks like she might need some help now. She needs to learn how to control.... herself better. It’s Rachel, right? Rachel Luthor?”
“Yes... and you’re Finn... Finn Kent?”
He nodded and she fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing what to say in the presence of her handsome savior. Finn was the most attractive boy she had ever seen and she was stunned that he had helped her. He was like her guardian angel. Rachel had a lot of questions.
“What happened to her? How did the fire just go out? It was so odd... I swear she just created a fire out of nothing but it must be some trick she used to scare me.”
“Um... I guess something on her must have caught fire. Exploding cell phone? Spontaneous combustion?” Finn stuttered nervously. Rachel could immediately tell that he knew more and was hiding something but she didn’t press it. “It just um...went out.”
A tall blonde girl walked into view, leaning down to inspect Santana’s wounds and fuss over her. It was Brittany Pierce, another cheerleader who always seemed glued to Santana’s side even more than Quinn was. Brittany held her in her arms for a moment, kissing the girl’s forehead. Rachel was stunned that Santana actually let anyone get close enough to her to touch her like Brittany was and that the blonde wasn’t afraid of the aggressive girl.
“Britt?”
“Santana? Are you okay? Please be more careful.”
“I’m fine...I just... I wasn’t expecting...”
“I know, you’re so brave and strong.” Santana’s expression softened instantly at Brittany’s words and her anger seemed to go away.
The black-haired girl groaned as she sat up, Brittany helping her up with the shorter girl’s arm around her shoulders. Santana scowled at Finn and Rachel one last time as she left but was too weak to fight them as she walked away, leaning against the blonde.
---
Rachel and Finn became friends of sorts as the days passed. He was the first real friend Rachel had ever had and she was trying to control her enthusiasm about that, as she didn’t want to scare him off. The only problem was that Finn was only her friend when they were alone or virtually alone. If his friends Quinn, Santana and Puck especially or any of the other jocks were around, Finn would pretend he had to go somewhere and nervously make an excuse for why he couldn’t be with Rachel.
She knew it was because he was embarrassed to be seen with the unpopular girl and it hurt her but she was grateful for his friendship even if it had to be a secret. She didn’t have any other options. Rachel had told her parents excitedly about the boy who had saved her from the fire, not understanding why they fell silent, giving each other weird looks. She couldn’t wait to introduce them to Finn one day.
One day, Rachel was being bullied by Quinn Fabray and her friends on a school trip. She slipped and fell, horrified as she realized she was falling from the side of the bridge they were standing on. She didn’t know how but Finn somehow was standing in the water and caught her just in time. Rachel was shocked and speechless, her heart beating fast with the realization that she had almost fallen twenty feet into the river. Before she knew what was happening, their parents were called and the teacher was reprimanding Quinn and the others.
Rachel’s bodyguards rushed towards her, followed by her dad and mom.
“Rachel, what happened? Are you alright? They told me there was an accident,” Her dad asked, glaring in Finn’s direction and taking her. “I’ll hold her.”
“I’m fine now, Dad. I’m just lucky that Finn was here to save me.”
A tall, burly dark-haired man with round, blue eyes and a slender woman ran towards them. Rachel quickly realized they were Finn’s parents. The woman began to fuss over Finn, wrapping a blanket around him.
“Finn, Honey, what happened? Are you hurt?” She asked. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
When they noticed each other, the two couples froze and stared at each other for the longest moment. The tension could be cut with a knife as Lana and Lex glared at Clark while Lois just snorted angrily, crossing her arms. Rachel looked at Finn in confusion and he just shrugged, equally confused.
“Oh, it’s you two. I should have known,” Lex growled, standing in front of Rachel and Lana protectively. “Long time no see, Clark.”
“We have nothing to say to you, Lex.” Clark responded icily, taking Lois’ hand.
“Neither do we,” Lana added evenly, her green eyes darkening as she frowned at him. “I suppose it’s your son who put our daughter in danger?”
Finn shook his head, looking at his parents and hoping they would understand.
“I’m sure he had nothing to do with it. He was probably helping her,” Lois spoke defensively, placing a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Finn would never do anything to harm someone. He’s a big goofball.”
“Yes, Mom - Finn was actually the one who saved me!” Rachel told them. “I was falling and he... he caught me! I don’t know how but... I owe him my life.”
Lex just shook his head, leading Lana away. Neither of them knew how to handle this situation. Their emotions were in turmoil. Lex couldn’t deny that he missed Clark and while she no longer loved him romantically, Lana couldn’t deny that part of her missed having the tall, blue-eyed man in her life as a friend. Other than Chloe, Clark had been her best friend for years and there was always that hole in her life. Clark was like a brother to both of them but as Superman, he was their greatest enemy. Clark felt a wave of sadness hit him, realizing once again that Lex was the one person he had never been able to save when it came down to it.
“I suppose I should thank you, Finn. It seems that the Kents have a habit of showing up in a crisis... especially when bridges are involved. However, you won’t be seeing anymore of my daughter. Come on, Rachel, let’s go.”
“But Daddy... he’s my friend!” Rachel sobbed as Finn’s face crumpled. Lex glanced at his daughter in concern. Rachel never usually disobeyed him or argued against anything he said but she was defensive of Finn. “This is the second time he rescued me. He’s a good person.”
“If that’s what you want, Lex, then you’ll have it. My son doesn’t need to be around Luthors. Finn, it was kind of you to save Rachel but you don’t need to be her savior anymore,” Clark’s voice turned cold, his face hardening as Lex glared at him. “Maybe this was all part of her father’s plan to lure me out here, for all we know.”
Lex and Lana snorted, shaking their heads.
“Dad, wait! Rachel... she’s not like that. Please don’t do this!” Finn pleaded with Clark who just shook his head, adamant against allowing himself to be friendly with the Luthors again. He no longer trusted them and Lana was just as bad as Lex in his eyes. The two teens were practically in tears as they walked away with their parents. Finn ran up to Rachel before Clark could stop him.
“My dad is stubborn but we’ll find a way to see each other again, I promise.” Finn whispered in Rachel’s ear before quickly running back to his parents. Rachel blushed as she couldn’t deny she had a crush on the tall teen and she hoped by some miracle he felt the same about her.
She got into her father’s car, pressing her face against the glass and Finn climbed into his parents’ truck, staring at Rachel the whole time as well. Even if their parents hated each other for some unknown reason, Rachel couldn’t find it in herself to dislike Finn, who had only ever been kind and protective to her. He was the truest friend she ever had. She hoped he was right and they’d find a way to be together again.
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authormeat · 1 year
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Ghost Boy Backstory
TW: EXTREME HOMOPHOBIA, VIOLENCE, THIS STORY IS FAKE! IT IS NOT REAL AND NEITHER IS SLENDERMAN, PLEASE DO NOT BELIEVE SLENDERMAN OR ANY CREEPYPASTA TO BE REAL! :]
Ghost Boy is a Proxy of Slenderman, but how did he end up there? How did he become the ultimate errand boy? The problem here is the actual reason they met in the first place.
Slenderman is an entity that saps the life of children and adults and in turn provides something of value to the person. A toy, money, weapons.
But material items aren’t the only thing provided.
He gives things no one else will, like revenge.
Our story begins on an early harvest morning. Junior, also known as Titus Morris Jenkins Jr., is reading a book and waiting for the call with the rest of his brothers to head out. When their sister calls from down stairs the boys get up from their beds and desks and leave to the truck. 
Piling in, Junior is forced to sit in the bed of the truck with his two younger brothers, Blake and Eugene, as he would rather not be squished between his elders, Ethan and Connor, while the eldest Markus took shotgun next to their father Titus.
His family is known for sunflowers; the kinds in bird food and not for actual consumption. For this reason it’s crucial for the next couple of days to harvest. While Junior isn’t permitted, he can drive at the age of thirteen, with lessons from Markus starting this season. First the truck, then the tractor. His lessons were bumpy. Although his brothers worked out in the field to shoo off the birds and keep the flowers harvested. With the eldest tending to the middle child, production is slow but necessary.
And just as harvest season began it is over, with all seeds deposited into the reservoir to be used in products. At the last pour from the truck Titus congratulates his sons on the hard work, then walks off to have a cigarette. 
Their father wasn’t a loving man. Rather he loved his wife and crops, not his children and home. He would rather drink and farm than eat with his family. With so little love to give Junior received none of it. Instead he was just put to work. Now that work was over they’d have to wait for the next season to roll over as the snow always affected the Midwest. No crop could grow in such cold weather, at least not sunflowers. 
For a flower so beautiful there was always an ugly head attached to it by the end. Withering, dying. Junior was always pushed to the side when it came to care, so he found ways to care for himself. Back at home he would read, do his homework, or practice alone outside. There were other things he did, such as patching up his own clothes and shoes to keep them on their last legs, or fixing his sister’s dolls as Jacklin had always been rough with the old dolls.
What was important to him however was the practice. Junior was on the light weight wrestling team at his small school, and a star player on his baseball team. While harvest season was always a challenge for him, needing to show up to practice and actually play games, instead he found winter much more relaxing. With a sack of potatoes in his arms he’d practice moves for wrestling, then his mother would see and watch, then his younger brother’s and sister Jacklin would join in, thinking it to be a game of roughhouse. These were the moments when everything was wonderful. When the world was right and he was able to convince himself as such.
Then school would rear a hideous head. At school, back in his small town, he’d hang out with his friends. Yet, he knew deep down they only hung out with him because their mother’s said so. No one enjoyed the kid with hand-me-downs, nor one with a family with a history at the school. He only had to look up and down at the grades to find them, all but Markus who had graduated. 
His elder siblings Haylee and Ethan were in their last years, while Connor and Oliva were only a couple away, then his younger siblings Blake and Eugene held lower grades. The youngest were his sister’s, twins, Jacklin and Hope. 
With another sibling on the way and being the exact middle of all his siblings he felt as though he needed to stand out, which is why he wished he had friends. If only he didn’t have brown hair, a farmer tan, and hand-me-down overalls. He had farmer written all over him, instead of a star sports player. It’s an embarrassment to him. The only saving grace was his siblings being in all grades, meaning if someone were to pick on him he could call for an older sibling's help. That’s if Haylee never leaves, since Ethan is too relaxed, Connor is a pacifist, and Oliva wouldn’t hurt someone even if she wanted to.
It was hopeless to try and fight them himself. The rumors. The gossip. Things untrue yet still spread like wildfire without a thing to stop it. 
‘I heard’ ‘I remember’ ‘Someone said’
Disgusting. Though, in the end he had a table to sit at with lunch and that’s what mattered. Not being alone.
Then, the transfer student showed up. A southern boy by the name Mike Heffor. A new transfer meant he was going to have eyes off him for a while, good, but bad as he might not have a seat at lunch for much longer. And so it went.
Slowly, like an infectious virus, Mike had stolen Junior’s place. He watched it happen, yet did nothing about it. He accepted it. Loathed his so-called friends.
The night he went home from practice he kicked himself into the forest behind their humble farm house. One they played in all the time, one filled with noise and sounds, life and wonder. Yet, in his anger and sadness of seeing Mike Heffor in his seat with no spots left he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t hear or see. He didn’t hear the silence or see that life was drained from the forest. Nothing.
A stillness. Filled with cries from a child. Frustrated sobs met with fists on trees. Kicks to sticks and leaves. 
A yell of grievance. Agonizing.
Upon kicking a stump he was not met with the hardwood, but a softer surface. It stopped his tantrum in its tracks as he was confused. Who dresses up a tree? Eyes travel upwards.
Then the headache struck.
It made it shut his eyes to the blank slate. Unable to keep contact he grips his head in exhaustion. A buzzing hornets nest making home in his head. At age thirteen Titus Jr. felt fear. Unable to understand his situation. A deafening silence which rang his ears yet filled it with overstimulating sound had him confused.
Why do you cry?
His face burns hot, placing a hand there he pulls away to find blood smearing his palm.
Do you hate them?
He tries his luck again to face the pale moon yet finds only the dark.
Would it be better to make them feel what you do?
Wouldn’t you want that?
What’s your name?
Junior ran.
Faster, picking up pace,
He finds himself slipping on the leaves,
Tripping over sticks,
Knocking into the trees.
As though the forest wants him there.
As though it breathes hot breath into his face as he breaks the tree line.
There, standing on the back porch, is his mother and younger siblings. They look concerned, his mother the most.
She runs over to embrace her child as it had been hours. Hours since he entered the forest from school. Yet, Junior didn’t see his mother. He saw the pale moon, the full moon which rose high in the sky. Surrounded by nothing. 
Then school ended.
Break started, but that didn’t stop the hallucinations from showing up. It had gone wrong. Nothing felt right anymore, and even as his birthday came to fruition on February 25 he still had the feeling as though it was watching. Just beyond a window or in the tree line were his younger siblings played. How do they not see it? How do they not hear the buzz, the ringing in their ears? It felt as though he had been isolated from everyone. As though he was never real.
School came back. Back to practice at the baseball field, back to harvesting. Out of the paranoia and fear he found someone was watching. When he came back to school Mike Heffor had taken a place on the baseball field. He had become an outfield catcher, while Junior remained the pitcher/main batter. There was some relief. Finally, he was superior in something.
Yet the victory felt hollow, because Mike Heffor still had friends, people enjoyed his company, and people cheered for him to catch balls that Junior would hit. It felt unfair. So, why did he enjoy the feeling of seeing Mike out him with a good catch? Mike was trying his best while Junior was holding back. He liked watching. He liked watching Mike.
The person who stole his uneasy life and made a better one.
“Good game!” Mike would say. “Good job!”
“You’re so good at this!” 
“Do you have any tips?”
Junior was… confused. In his hatred for Mike and his friends he found himself unable to not answer. He didn’t hate him though, it wasn’t his fault. He’s just nicer, better. Junior wanted to scream at him, tell him what he had done, but he couldn’t bring himself to yell. Nothing above a mumble.
Because nothing felt right anymore.
Why?
Why doesn’t this feel right? Junior thought.
“Do you want to hang out later?”
Is it because Mike is so nice? Because he tries so hard? Why is he trying so hard? 
Why did he feel like he was in the wrong for hating him?
And why did he agree?
Soon, Mike had his mom drop him at Junior’s house and he was playing with his siblings and him. He wasn't sure how it happened, how Mike was able to worm his way into his life and convince him there was nothing to worry about. He'd glance outside to the forest behind his home, and find nothing.
Nothing.
The two were working on homework together as Mike leaned in to ask a question. Junior watches him.
"And this one is like this?" 
He hates him.
"Yeah like that. But you need to show your work or else the teacher is going to beat our butts about it."
"Oh- right."
The two talked awkwardly. Not used to the other company but it never stopped Mike from being close. The two sat at dinner with their chairs right next to each other. They'd ask how he got such a friend, and Junior would just shrug and eat.
Then his mother came to pick him up and the two had the weekend away. Everything was much quieter when he left. Junior felt his family grew back into a silent routine the moment Mike Heffor was gone.
Why couldn't he be that? Why wasn't he the bright one in the family? Throwing them out of routine and keeping them guessing what his next move was. Why was it Mike? Why was it him? 
Junior wanted answers, yet didn't have the motivation to go get them. So his mind wandered as school and practice went on, the two became friends and hung out more. So much so they hit ninth grade something clicked in Junior.
A terrible feeling. He liked his best friend, yes, but there was a lingering bond. One growing closer and closer with each passing day. He felt as though his heart would rip in half from how fast it'd beat. Shaking, he would calm his trembling hands by holding Mike's, but only in private. Only when no one was looking.
When it was just him.
Don't you hate him? He'd think. Don't you want him to leave?
No, he'd feel as though his brain couldn't take being separated like that. One night Junior invited Mike to his house. Drove him home and took him to a field.
The sunflowers tall and basking in the afternoon light Junior takes Mike's hand and pulls him through the field. Making his way across the yellow petals that caress his face. Stopping in a small clearing where a pond was, he watched the water reflect the sky. A perfect blue.
"Mike." Their hands are still connected.
"Yeah?"
"I want to tell you something, but I think you'll laugh at me."
"Only if you're joking."
"I'm not. Not right now."
"Okay, then I won't laugh."
Turning to Mike the sun reflected on his sun kissed skin. The freckles from time dotting his cheeks. His blond hair sweeping over his dark brows. Blue eyes staring into his own brown ones. 
"Mike."
"Yeah?" His perfect white teeth.
"I… have a crush, but I don't know if they'd like me back."
"Why wouldn't they?"
"I don't know." Junior furrowed his brows together. "Why would they?"
Mike smiles. "You're a cute guy, no girl wouldn't want that!" 
"Would…" Mike raised his eyebrows, "Would you want that?"
"A cute girl? I guess, I'm not really into the girls at our school though."
"Do you have a crush?"
"Yeah, but you'd laugh at me too."
"Only if it was a joke."
He laughs. The honey sweet sound.
"Yeah yeah, sure. Hey I've got an idea."
"What if we say them at the same time?"
Junior slowly nods. "Okay."
Mike holds up three fingers, 
"I have a crush…" they both said.
then two,
"On…"
then one.
"You!" Junior said.
Mike Heffor, a boy looking up to Junior, looked starstruck.
"You jerk! You didn't say!" Junior shoves Mike.
Stumbling back, he gasps, snapping out of his trance. "Really? A crush on me?"
"Ugh! Just forget it! I told you, you would laugh at it!"
"But I'm not laughing! Ty! Come on!"
Tears welling in his eyes he listens to the Nickname, something so important to him. His first.
"Ty, I have a crush on you too!"
Now it was Junior’s turn to be surprised. Watching Mike as he went on.
"I had a crush on you when we first met back in seventh grade!"
Two years. It's been two years.
"Really?" Full of life.
"Yeah really!"
That is how it started.
Two kids falling in love in ninth grade, yet this relationship was kept private. They would only hold hands in private, hug when no one was there, or lean on one another when attention was away from them. It was a dirty secret. Only known between two people who trusted each other.
However, trust is a naive look on the world. To trust someone is to allow yourself to be vulnerable in their presence, which could lead to devastating results. 
That’s what happened.
The disastrous end to their covert relationship. 
It happened due to a small slip up and a suspicious classmate. Near the end of ninth grade a student caught the two kissing. News spreading like wildfire and questions bombarded the teachers to ask a trusted adult of it being true. That’s how their parents found out.
Dissolving before Junior’s eyes was the life he wanted, one he had built in a singular moment.
He still loves Mike. He still wanted to hold his hand and still wanted to hug him close. Yet, in the chaos of it all Mike withdrew. A disgusted look on his face one day told Junior everything.
He didn’t love him back. 
“Don’t touch me.” Mike announced one day when they were alone. “I don’t need some gay touching me. It’ll rub off.” 
Junior took a step forward, as Mike took one back. “But Mikey…”
“Don’t talk to me anymore.” He stood tall as Junior was hunched, he held himself high as Junior was at his lowest. “You’re nothing but some freak! I can’t believe I was roped into believing I actually liked you!”
It hurt. “Can’t you just be normal? It’s over!” It hurt so much.
“I don’t love you! I never did! I just…” Mike’s speech stuttered. There before him. Junior layed raw and bare in his emotions. His eyes welled with tears, then he cried. 
Grasping for Mike only to be met with air. Falling to his knees as he stumbled before Mike. 
“You were always such a crybaby! No wonder everyone found you so weird!”
“Sthap it!” Junior yelled. His words strained as he cried, throat closed as he tried to breathe in, only to be shaky and hyperventilating. “You’re- lying!”
“We- we can still w-work.” He hiccuped in breaths. 
“There is no more we.” Mike’s voice is cold, filled with finality. “There never was a we.”
That was their break up. Junior cried on the grimy pavement behind the school for a good hour. Mike left him to do it. No comfort, no let down, nothing. Going home wasn’t much better. His family found out. His mother still loved him unconditionally, and his younger siblings still enjoyed his company. The problem was the elders.
His father stopped bothering him, looking disappointed in his own child. Haylee, and Oliva had also stopped contact. Wondering by him as though he was just a ghost. Connor came to sit Junior down, speaking about the sins of his actions. How he could still be saved if he just went to repent for the consequence of being led astray by the devil. 
Then there was Ethan. Supportive, loving, like his mother. He supported him in silence, smiling at Junior when they were in the same room or patting him on the back when homework was being done. But the opposite of Ethan was the eldest, Markus. Markus hated Junior with his heart. Bigoted and slurred his brother’s name. He would no longer call him anything but that. Said, “This thing doesn't deserve my father’s name!”
Then the argument broke out between Markus and his mother.
Yet, Junior loved them. He loved his family unconditionally even if they didn’t love him anymore. He still loved Mike too. He didn’t blame them for their ways. He didn’t wish them harm because he wasn’t that kind of person.
He loved people. 
And then one day, he couldn’t.
That day happened in eleventh grade. Past the time he was benched from baseball games and was booted off the wrestling team by his coaches. Reduced to nothing but a water boy who was forced to sit outside and wait for the rest of the boys to change before he could go inside the locker room.
Even when the bullying became so bad he bartered with his parents in hopes of dropping out.
He did, he dropped out and lived on the farm exclusively helping around the house and in the field.
Beyond that.
This happened one night. When everything was crashing down around Junior. When his family again broke into another argument which forced Junior upstairs in his room. His nose stuck deep in a book he heard a tap. Then another. Looking outside the window he saw below a figure. That figure was Mike.
His heart swelled with emotion, sadness and anger, regret and longing. He opened the window, cool air sliding through, and whispered down to Mike. 
“What do you want?”
“Let’s do it.”
“Do what, you already told me what you wanted.”
Mike tossed a pebble up and down in his hand. “No, no, I was wrong Ty.” 
That almost brought tears to his eyes.
“I want to try one more time. I promise it’ll be different.”
Junior looked back, hearing the silence settling downstairs. “I’ll be down when everyone is asleep.” 
Mike gave a smile and a thumbs up.
He looked so different. He had become the captain of the baseball team. Replacing the star player who was Junior. He was popular, enjoying the plethora of friends at his hand. People loved him.
That night Junior snuck out of the home. Seeing his father sleeping on the couch once again as he creeped outside. There, in the distance was Mike’s mustang. A beautiful car with a sleek style. Jogging over he hopped in, smiling bright as his heart swelled with relief. There was Mike. Mike Heffor. Before him below the stars as they drove not too far from his home, into a field that had already been harvested that year. The roof pulls back, revealing the sky away from all light pollution. 
A beautiful array of light and color. Mixing with the dark as Junior sat back watching them with Mike. He wondered, for a fleeting moment, if this was it. Would he enjoy his life again?
Well, they stayed that way for a while. Mike even held onto Junior’s hand again. It was wonderful, a breath of fresh air between all the…
The sound of engines pulled in. Several of them. Junior’s dropping eyes snapped wide open. Glancing around they had become surrounded by trucks and cars alike. All headlights cut the beauty of the sky away. Several people removed themselves from their vehicles, unable to identify any of them he turned to Mike, but found he had left his mustang. He popped open Junior’s car door from outside, and then was grabbed by someone he didn’t know. 
A person from school? A cousin or sibling to an ex-classmate? He didn’t know, he didn’t have time to react as he was thrown to the rough soil. Then, he was beaten senseless.
Kicks and punches, scratches and grabbing, tearing off his clothes Junior was left to die in that field. Beaten so bad he could barely see. He was seeing double, triple. Then they all left.
Left him bleeding and bruised in that field, laughing. Congratulating each other. It was cruel. Heartless in act, but out of all the ringing in his ears he heard a whisper. 
Do you hate them?
He did. He really did.
Let me take care of it.
No.
No he would do it by his own hands, he swore it.
Pushing himself from the ground he wobbled with torn clothes away from the field. Unable to see he only asked for help to be led home. The sickness which followed made him lose balance and raise bile from his throat. He felt the hard wood of a tree bump into him, knocking him back onto the ground. There he laid in an unknown area, then he was dragged beyond it.
A shout.
“Titus!” It was his mother.
Picking himself up once more he used the trees as support. Stumbling upon his home he is unable to spot anyone in particular, other than his mother’s gasp. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, passing out.
When he awoke he heard the sound of beeps, continuous and in a smooth rhythm. Everything was blurry, his vision covered on his right as he tried to move from bed. He was met with a soft hand on his shoulder and looking over there was his mother. He tried to reach out but found his left arm restricted, seeing it bound in a cast. 
“Don’t move honey.” His mother cooed. “I’ll get the doctor.” 
It is here Junior discovers his injuries.
His left arm had been twisted, broken, his legs bruised to the bone, ribs as well. His face was fine for the most part thanks to the protection of his arms, but his nose had been broken in three separate places, widening the frame and curving his nose down; eyes bruised but will heal fine, says the doctor. His ears had been kicked so hard they now rupture and leak fluid.
The worst part was his brain.
He now has severe brain damage to both his speech and balance. He felt dizzy all the time, unable to stand straight or even lay without a constant spin. The other part which suffered was his speech. His brain might not be able to keep up with his mouth anymore, the two are out of sync and in turn his speech will slur and stutter. For now they worked on physical therapy, helping Junior back onto his feet with the help of a walking cane as he was determined not to stay wheelchair bound. 
For once, everything went smoothly. He stayed in the hospital for a week and three days only until he was able to use his walking cane with his good arm. The rest was sent home to practice. Talking with his family however, was a different matter.
Bumpy. 
There is sympathy for what happened to Junior, but not enough to stop their silent treatment, nor the insults courtesy of Markus. Nothing changed. It was as though he was back in school, being berated for his sexuality. It's strange, Junior wondered, how people can be so cruel and so mean, yet hate it when it is done back to them.
No love in their hearts, they are not wounded nor regretful. No shame comes to them. For their actions speak as loud as their words. 
After he had healed his broken arm and gotten used to his vertigo. He stood at the edge of the forest behind their farm house and watched the trees sway with the wind. How their leaves, waxy and lively, break down and flow away in beautiful browns which mix in with the reds, yellows, and oranges. As though the forest was on fire.
Then, he heard it. The wind carried a shadow. A tall being with a blank face. Staring at his dark surroundings there was only silence. Trees still and blending in the being with a long suit. 
Is this the life you want?
Not one bit, Junior thought.
Don’t you wish for something more?
He did.
Bring them to me.
Junior stared straight up, the black sky without a single star. 
I will devour their egos and be your vessel for fulfillment, in turn you become mine.
Yes. It's time. 
He swore it.
Ethan took him to the town later that day when he knew school would be out. 
“Just puh-pull in there.” He pointed to the group of boys. Boys around his age. Senior Boys. And Ethan listened.
With a note in hand he exited his father’s truck. Pacing over to the group they turn with questioning looks. With that he held out the note.
“Look who it is. Came limping back for more gay?”
“N-No.”
“N-No! Pa-pa-please don’t hurt me!” His voice was squeaky, high, mocking. 
Mike took the note. 
“I want t-o fh-fight.” Their group of chuckles silenced. “Tonight.”
Mike ripped open the letter and pulled out the folded sheet of paper. He was slightly shorter than Junior now, having had a growth burst not too long ago. “By yourself?” The rest of the boys lean in, looking behind Mike’s shoulders at the note.
Junior gives a curt nod. Then, he stalks off back to the truck with a concerned Ethan inside. 
The ride back was silent for the most part. 
“What was in the letter?”
Junior stared out the window, looking away from Ethan as his stomach turned in a bundle of nerves. Bubbling his gut with regret. 
“Junior…” A hand is put on his shoulder. 
“Would you stop it if I told you?” Junior turns his head to Ethan, feeling as though he might vomit with his nervousness combing with vertigo. 
Brows knotted with concern Ethan slowed down the truck, maybe to prolong the conversation or because it started to rain and they lived out quite far on a gravel road. 
“Would you?”
“I’m just…”
“Yes or No.” 
Ethan rolled to a stop. Waves of rain came down on the front of the truck. Light reflecting within it and onto both boys. 
“No.”
“Good.” Junior looked back out the window, unable to look Ethan in the eyes. “Can we go huh-home now.” 
It took a couple seconds, but Ethan eventually pulled the car back into motion on the gravel road, windshield wipers moving left and right and battering off the ever-pouring water. 
Once home he waited in his bedroom, watching the gray sky outside as it poured onto their home. Once or twice he had been approached by his younger siblings, their worries heard yet not reciprocated. Instead, he read a book. The activity was the only thing keeping him from realizing what he had done, what he planned to do. 
He was about to send people to their deaths, and while conflicted there was justifications for his actions, to him at least. Is killing someone worth it? You could never return to how things were when you did it. You’d never be the same person and more than not you’d end up empty inside. Unfulfilled due to trying to understand your actions. Why do it? 
Why?
He watched his brothers come to bed, sleep in their respective sheets and disregard him as always. That is, his older brothers. His younger brothers, Blake and Eugene, hugged him goodnight.
Was he really so heartless? Could he really do it? He felt himself shaking from just thinking about it, adrenaline pulling through his bones.
He was in good health. His bones all healed and only left with a stutter and vertigo. He could, he would. He already decided. Softly closing his book the rain continued onwards as he slid from bed. He dressed himself in better clothing meant for the rain. A gray hoodie, hunter pants in a green color. Looking at his own pair of boots they sat by his bed. Having not been replaced in so long and his feet warping them having outgrown them long ago.
So, grabbing his cane he headed down stairs and to the front door.
There were all the shoes of the family. He wouldn’t steal Ethan’s even though they had the same shoe size. Instead he stole Markus’s. The red soles and shoelaces were something he wanted and was jealous of for a while. In this moment, he felt no remorse having shut off all his emotions and thoughts as he headed out in the rain with a final close of the door.
He met the boys behind his home, at the set time of midnight. The rain was letting up but still sprinkled down in a mist. They all showed up in one car, the silence from them meant business. In the rain Junior watched Mike leave out last. They had all piled in his mustang. Damn thing, he’d beat it later. 
“So how do you want to do this? I would rather not get an STD from beating your ass again.” Mike said, his friends humming in agreement.
“We are going into the f-fuh-forest. I don’t want my parents to see.” 
“Fine by me.” He said.
Junior leads them deep within. Covered by the canopy of leaves he stops in the dense part. His head pounded but that didn’t stop him. No, no, he had done his part, but 
You aren’t done yet.
You said yourself you wanted to beat them with your own hands.
Junior turns to the group, who have spread out before him. His face was heated, feverous, reaching up he saw the blood on his fingers. 
Then the world went dark.
Something light had been thrown over his head, pulling at the cloth he found two holes cut within. Able to see through, he looked down and found it had been a white sheet. He no longer felt the rain, actually he no longer felt the ground either.
Thunk.
The group looked on in confusion. 
Thump.
At his feet was a singular baseball and a bat. Using his cane as his only support he picked up the two objects, the baseball being incredibly heavy. Tossing it in the air it weighs back into his hand with some force. Rusty, but he’d try.
Tossing the ball into the air the group seems to look at each other, taking steps back. Strangely, now he had a weapon. Given by the trees. 
He swung.
Missed.
They laughed at him for missing, but his balance wasn’t twirling as much, he felt light on his feet. Picking up the baseball again; he’d need to swing faster, harder. Break his nose, hit him where it hurts. 
Mike was laughing at him as he had in school. He had no remorse. No wish to come back to him, but their dating wasn’t a lie. He still loves Mike. 
And that’s why he has to kill him.
Tossing the heavy ball into the air he whipped backwards then slammed forwards as the two connected.
CRACK! THUMP.
No one was laughing. 
No one but Junior. 
He laughed. He laughed as Mike’s head had exploded like a rotten apple. He laughed at him for being dead, for being so mean and rotten. Cruel and unforgiving was his justice. 
The first one ran, the second as well, but the third and forth came forward attacking at the same time, but it wasn’t of use. They phased straight through him. Just as though Junior had become a ghost.
Screams heard off in the distance, confusion turning into frustration, turns into death as Junior swung for three. Cracking his head clean off as his neck snapped in half. Four then ran. 
He walked through three’s body, as though the terrain around him was a solid, flat ground. He stood in front of Mike’s body, a limp mass. 
Still, he chuckled. Laughed. He slowed down and then laughed some more. Then he kicked his body, his foot going through Mike and not touching him in the slightest. 
Yet, Junior still loves Mike. Unable to process he killed him, unable to come back to reality to the fact he did it. He laughed away his nerves, his sickness. 
Good work.
His voice caught in his throat.
I’ve fulfilled my side of the deal, now it is time to fulfill yours.
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Bonus Art for reading the whole story!!!!! :D
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queennymeria · 1 year
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a hot new oc, huh?? 💖💖💖👀😏 i’m super intrigued and would love to learn more about them!! anytime you or airika make an oc i get HYPED cause i know the dash is going to eat good 🍽
Naomi 🥹🥹🥹💕💕💕💕💕💕 omg you’re too kind really! They’re just taking center focus in my head right now but:
Lorenza - a Princess of D*orne and the younger sister of Qor*n. She came to KL when she was fifteen and is a lady in waiting to Rhae Rhae. I would describe her as more so quiet and observant rather than bold. She’s also pretty spoiled but she means well. Not sure who I want to ship her with (might come up with a sexy oc to smooch) but for right now she’s vibing. She and @chuckhansen’s Elsa will be besties though…BET. ❤️
Clifton - A dishonored Knight from the North (also a Sta*k…yes the younger brother of Creg*n lol) who traveled to D*rne to escape justice. He’s basically accused of kinslaying. He’s still got that sense of honor and duty though…he traveled to D*rne to his wife’s mother’s family to seek refuge but instead they tried to send his ass back. Q*ren intervened though and decided to give him a second chance to redeem himself and assigns him to Lorenza in KL. For now, he’s single (he and his wife are happily separated) but he be looking at a certain 🐉.
Bryana “Hot Blooded” Castemont - Clifton’s wife who assumes a male identity at the Wall! She’s actually the one responsible for the kinslaying but it was for good reason…basically self-defense. Clifton took the blame for her, and instead of him going to the wall , she takes his place and goes in his stead. She’s happier for it though. She feels free. Not from Clifton per say, but all her life things were expected of her bc of her standing and family. Now she’s free to be whoever she wants. Until the dance of the 🐉 starts though.
House Castemont: “We Shall Prosper”
Roo*e Castemont - Bryana’s father and head of House Castemont. His family have been in charge of the North’s silver mines in Silver Valley for a long time. Most of their wealth comes from the silver they mine. Silverpoint is their ancestral seat. Anyway, he’s a doting and loving father and husband and loves all his kids equally. Bryana just so happened to be his favorite though. 😔
Mya Castemont - Originally from D*rne and a member of House Jord*yne. Mya and Roose met in KL and fell in love like the saps they were. Roose proposed that night 🤭. She’s the one who more or less plans and coordinates the books for their finances…and eventual plan of attacks during the dance.
Jon “The Lively and Grand” Castemont - The eldest son! He doesn’t wanna be the lord of nothing though and just wants to use their title for his very slutty ways. It’s why he and Roose butt heads so much.
Aniya “Prim and Proper” Castemont - The second oldest daughter, coming right after Bryana. She’s a prim and proper lady and doesn’t like the cold all that much and often will spend the coldest months south. She ends up in KL with another family member and unfortunately also will get caught up in the dance of 🐉.
Jorgen “The Wise” Castemont - The fourth and second son. He’s more serious about books than swordplay. He’s quiet but also uses it to his advantage to spy on people and learn their dirty secrets. 😒.
Cassandra “Soft Spoken” Castemont - The third daughter and the girliest probably of the girls. She’s spoiled and mom’s favorite because she’s great at everything. She’s betrothed to a lord in the crownlands (don’t know whom yet).
Maya “The Wild Castemont” - The baby and the wild one! Definitely takes after her eldest sister Bryana and is relatively close to her and Jorgen the most out of the five. She prefers to swim in the ice cold waters of the sea near their castle. Also collects seashells and the like.
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itsabardknocklife · 4 months
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18-21 for Malnatoth <3
What is your Tav’s greatest fear?
Right now? It's that no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, he can't keep Idri safe.
His second greatest fear is losing Rue. He already lost one son, losing the other would destroy him.
What is your Tav’s greatest desire?
For Idri to settle down so that he can go home and see his wife. He knows he has most of eternity with her, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to carry her into their bedroom and wear her thighs as earmuffs right now.
What is your Tav’s greatest regret?
He regrets not stepping in to protect Dru from Murlistras. While he knows it wouldn't have saved Dru and that he'd also end up dead in the process, the fact that he just stood by and watched as his father sentenced his son to death still eats away at him.
How does your Tav feel about love?
Malnatoth is a capital R Romantic. He is a misty-eyed sap, and a soft-hearted fool. If he was in modern times, he'd make a 20 slide powerpoint presentation about how amazing his wife is, about how talented his sons are, about why his baby sister has terrible taste in men, and also probably a few about couples he thinks are cute. He reads nothing but romance novels in his spare time. He carries around pictures of his wife and kids and will go on about them at length to anyone who makes the mistake of asking him about them.
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scftdevil · 6 months
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aurora 'rory' eden (35) | josephina 'josie' eden (32) coenraad 'coen' eden (33) | robert 'booker' eden (55) abandoned when their youngest, josephina was only two years old, booker eden has been holding his family together for thirty years. raising two daughters and his own mirror in his son has never been easy for him. booker was always closest with rory, the eldest and far bigger of a help than she deserved to be with helping raise her younger siblings. booker holds a lot of guilt about that, but rory never throws it in his face.
rory eden on the other hand could never hold a thing against her father, the poor sad sap who was fucked over by the woman he thought he would spend the rest of his life with. even at five years old, rory looked at her father with pity, holding josie's hand as they watched their mother discard them like last nights takeout order. there's no argument that rory was fucked up by her mother's abandonment, struggling to last in any kind of relationship. unable to let anyone in long enough for her to fall in love. she is a skeptic and a fierce one at that. the ice queen of the edens.
coen eden was never going to grow up stable and happy. he took their mother leaving the hardest, and never really healed from that loss. coen got mixed up with the wrong people in high school, and rory has always bent over backwards trying to save her brother, but there's only so many rehab trips, medical bills from fighting and lawyers to get him out of hot water she can afford. coen loves his sisters endlessly, and resents how much of a fuck up he can be and how that hurts his sisters endlessly.
and finally there's josephine eden. josie, jo, jj, jojo, peppa, posey, seffa, sophie, effy or jay, josie's never felt quite like her own person. she's a delicate creature in the eden family, someone to care for, someone to protect even if that protection leaves her a little too naive for the wold. josie was a good student, sometimes getting into trouble, she had a six month affair with a teacher in grade eleven, which ended because she as well as the staff at her school discovered that the teacher had been sleeping with three other students, though no one ever found out that josie had been seeing him too. she had an affair with her boss near two years ago and ended up pregnant and unemployed by his own hand and is now raising her daughter, jolie.
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