#anyway i just think they would be a particularly good parental figure for him

[sainamoonshine]

Okay so I saw that @foxy-alien made art of a TLT house swap AU and it started me thinking about how I’d do a similar AU… I did that instead of sleeping last night btw.

So here’s what I have so far:

Ninth House: Ianthe, Corona and Babs. Once upon a time a woman and a baby fell on their planet. When they saw the woman’s red hair they thought “ugh what Third House bullshit is this” and while they kept the corpse, they sent the baby back. We don’t want this keep your trash. They have their own drama to deal with anyway; the tomb needs its keeper to be a necromancer. Corona, while officially the heir and Reverent Daughter, is not one. Ianthe and her started hiding her lack of talent before their parents explained the whole “unbroken chain of the tomb keeper’s necromantic bloodline” thing. So long as Ianthe is around, the twins expect that everything is still fine. Still, their house hovers on the edge of breaking a promise of ten thousand years once their parents die and Corona inherits the duties of the tomb… unless they find a way to make Corona a necromancer, either by turning her into a lyctor, by making Ianthe a lyctor and then Ianthe makes her necromantic (?), or they just straight up ask Jod for a boon.

Eight House: Abigail and Magnus. Everyone is surprised when they meet them, as they do not meet the traditional pattern of their house; especially when you know the fact that Abigail’s cavalier was supposed to be a cousin but was replaced by Magnus when he married Abigail — their blood type was, luckily (or unluckily?) compatible. Like, who the fuck would want to be an Eight House cavalier??? (Magnus would. He think going into the river is exciting. He also trusts his wife.) It’s usually only when Abigail starts actually doing necromancy that people remember she’s scary AF. Through her interest in ghosts, she has developed her own custom safeguards against Magnus getting possessed when she siphons him… or if he does get possessed, she is a quick and extremely brutal exorcist.

Seventh House: Palamedes and Camilla. Pal decided on his medicine focus due to his house’s propensity for weird necromantic cancer. He firmly believes that if he can just find a way to either stabilize or treat it, the inhabitants of the seventh house will live more comfortable lives. He is considered something of an heretic due to this, but house leadership is willing to ‘let him cook’ -> they’ll wait to see if a necromancer with a stable cancer is still powerful before they decide whether to censure his research or not.

Sixth House: Jeannemary and Isaac. They’re still young, but very good at getting into places they’re not supposed to be, particularly by breaking wards and then rebuilding them better. Both of them keep trying to apply into the cohort but the scholars of the Sixth see Isaac’s skills with wards and want him to pursue academia instead. When the summons to Canaan House came the council all looked at each other, remembered they still had to appoint a new master warden after the last one passed, figured that nobody wanted to abandon their current study/experiments to go participate to what would be sure to be a tedious dick measuring contest with the other house heirs, and decided to invoke an obscure emergency clause in a law book somewhere in order to appoint Isaac to the title. He and Jeannemary really were the only ones who actually wanted to go to Canaan.

Fifth House: Dulcinea and Protesilaus. It is a shame that her health is so poor, because she would otherwise have become a hell of an ruler. While she has an ease with history and academia, her true skill is diplomacy. Dulcinea can get a very accurate read on most people, and she knows how to use their own psychology against them to make them agree to her ideas. She looks nice and fragile, but she is cunning. Meanwhile, Protesilaus is surprisingly good at paperwork for a guy who looks like he eats skulls for breakfast.

Fourth House: Judith and Martha. This AU version of them is less cocksure, but just as proficient at gathering information, profiling people, and writing down ample notes. Their rank in the cohort is lower than in canon, and they often get assigned to the tasks nobody else wants. Such as: overseeing security on ships bringing prisoners to the Ninth House prison installation… and this is how Judith and Corona met.

Third House: Harrow and Gideon. Once upon a time, the Ninth House sent them an orphan they claimed was theirs. The King and Queen didn’t pay the mystery much mind and stuck the baby in an orphanage. They had their own troubles to deal with: the royal family had not been able to produce a necromantic heir yet, and the vassal families were closing in. They figured that they couldn’t let a lesser branch of the family inherit the Third; it had never been done, would discredit them in the eyes of the other Houses, and would cause political instability. So in order to ensure the necromantic potential of their latest vat baby experiment, the King and Queen sacrificed the children in one of the lesser orphanages. They claimed that an hull breach in the space station caused the poisonous air of the planet’s upper atmosphere to get inside the ventilation system… except there was one survivor. The King and Queen were weirded out by that seemingly unkillable toddler but public opinion was heavily positive towards the ‘miracle survivor’. Not to mention having at least one person survive the incident helps make the ‘it was an accident’ excuse sound more credible. So the King and Queen brought the child to the palace and decided to do some PR by giving her a place to live and an education, and eventually made her the Cavalier of their (powerful) new daughter.

Second House: Silas and Column. Duty-bound, fanatic, no fun allowed Silas is a bit young for military service, but that doesn’t stop him from climbing the ranks. Column is still used as a battery, even in this AU, except his role is to start killing people to produce the initial necromantic boom to give Silas something to work with when they deploy to new battlefields. He hates doing this btw.

#the locked tomb #the locked tomb AU #house swap AU #gideon the ninth #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #the locked tomb fanfic

[mandoalorian]

save a horse, ride a cowboy

pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

masterlist

warnings: EXPLICIT, no minors. m!masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism to some extent, riding, unprotected p in v. both so so touch starved. joel has a lot to teach the reader.

notes: 1000 notes on my last post— thank you. I haven’t written in a long time and get quite anxious to post new fics, but when the response is that great, how could I not? You make me feel way more confident with my writing and encourage me to post more often. I hope to soon get to a place where I can start accepting requests again and writing what you want me to.

Joel didn’t like you— that much was clear. He hadn’t spoken a word to you since daybreak, when he left Tess at the QZ to deal with ‘unfinished business’ and promised her to deliver you to the outskirts of Boston without Fedra knowing. It was a difficult journey with the soldiers scouting the area on every corner, but after around six hours of travelling on foot, you and Joel had reached the border of Cornwall, Canada, which is exactly where you needed to be.

Unbeknownst to Joel, you wanted to be in Canada because that’s where your parents were. Or so, where you last heard they were. You’d do anything to reunite with them and make sure they were safe but you weren’t exactly good with a gun and you weren’t a particularly fast runner either. You needed someone like Joel to smuggle you out of the Quarantine Zone. He was your protector.

“You haven’t said a word to me all day,” you acknowledged when you couldn’t sleep that night. You lay next to Joel in your own sleeping bag, framed by a roaring fire and underneath tall, forested shelter. “Why?”

Joel huffed out a sigh and rolled over onto his back, now looking up at the starry night sky.

He didn’t reply.

You gave him a few minutes and tried to gather your thoughts, hoping he’d eventually cave and tell you why he’d hated you all this time. Had you done something wrong? You didn’t think so. Hell, you’d only met him earlier in the day. You’d hardly had enough of an influence on him to hate you. You liked to think of yourself as big and strong and apathetic in regards to people’s opinion of you. In the world that you lived in, you couldn’t afford to give a damn. And yet, you did. You couldn’t help it, it was just who you were. You got anxious about it if you thought about it too long and so you would desperately try and find a distraction or think of something else to focus on. The trees— the stars— the fire— Joel.

He was the epitome of ‘grumpy old man’. You briefly wondered if he was this grumpy before the apocalypse. Why was he so highly strung? Sure, life wasn’t exactly good or easy for him— but it wasn’t good or easy for anyone.

“I didn’t tell you why I wanted to go to Canada,” you said slowly, figuring that if you could open up to the man, then maybe he could at least offer you a few words back. “My parents are there. I think they are anyway. My father sent a letter over to the QZ months ago but I only just got it on Tuesday. I don’t know if they’re still there but I need to check. My mom is sick and I just… need to be with them… and I couldn’t go alone. I wouldn’t last two seconds out there with infected. So I guess, what I’m trying to say is, tha—“

“Okay.” Joel cut you off abruptly. He didn’t want your ‘thank you’s’ or your tokens of gratitude. He was doing a job and he was only here to get paid.

“Where are you from?” you asked him quietly. He shuffled but didn’t reply, and so you were prompted to follow on further. “You got an accent. Southern, there’s no doubting that. Tennessee…—?”

“Texas.” Joel corrected and you smiled to yourself. He may have been a man of few words but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you think he was from Tennessee.

“Texas huh?” you beamed brightly. Joel didn’t move his head, but he looked over to you and noticed your grin. “So you’re like, a cowboy.”

You giggled playfully and nudged his arm, but he only grunted and closed his eyes.

“You ever ride a horse?” you asked him.

“You’re annoying,” Joel sighed, rubbing his temples, but he supposed that— if he had to be honest with himself— he was somewhat amused by your plentiful questions. “But yeah. I’ve rode a horse.”

“I always wanted to ride a horse, but I don’t think I’d be any good at it,” you admitted sheepishly. “No co-ordination.”

“It’s all in the hips.” Joel explained and his interest in horses took you by surprise. This was the most he talked all day.

You pursed your lips together fighting back another smile. There was no denying the rush of blood that flushed to your cheeks as you felt them heat up over the thought of the Cowboy riding his horse. But then you remembered how he’d also just expressed his irritation with you and your abundance of pointless questions and you felt your heart drop in your chest slightly. A pang of guilt.

You told yourself that it was okay— no big deal— and it didn’t matter if he found you annoying. No, it didn’t matter that the extremely attractive Texan man who hadn’t uttered a single word to you all day, found you annoying.

You’d been so lonely recently. So lonely. You’d kill for a friend. A partner. Someone. And perhaps it was your fault for getting your hopes up when you met Joel. You figured that maybe you could finally have someone in your life who liked you back for you, and didn’t want to use you or hurt you in some kind of unexpected way.

“I— I don’t mean to be annoying, y’know. I just— I’m sorry,” you murmured, rolling over onto your side and facing the other way from Joel. “Uhm— good night.”

Joel wasn’t a heartless monster. He wasn’t as cold and calculating as he let off to be, but he sure as hell wasn’t innocent and pure-of-heart either. He was a broken shell of a man simply trying to get by, and the way he saw it, he couldn’t afford the time or effort to make friendships or have partners or even anything more than an acquaintance. It just wasn’t on his radar.

And although he was certainly taken aback with how beautiful you were, he just couldn’t bring himself to do anything he wouldn’t do with any other piece of cargo. This was a delivery, after all. A smuggle run. And he had to be professional about it.

But you were so— so beautiful. During the hours of hiking you and Joel did through the fields and forests, he often lagged behind you and consciously allowed you to take the lead when he thought it was safe to do so. Really though, he just liked to take a few seconds to admire you when you weren’t looking. You were funny and smart and although you couldn’t aim a gun to save your life, you might’ve been able to charm a Clicker away from you if you tried hard enough.

Joel enjoyed listening to you babble on, despite displaying no signs or signals to show that he had any interest in you. He couldn’t do that because he didn’t want to lead you on or give you the wrong impression. He really did like you, but if he dared to open his mouth, Joel was certain he’d slip up and say the wrong thing or embarrass himself. And so to him, it was better to not say anything at all. However, his heart would warm when you would get bored along the way and start humming— and eventually singing. You were in no way melidous, but still, you weren’t trying to be. Joel wondered what it would be like in another universe where your lives weren’t constantly at stake. Maybe then he’d grow the courage to actually have a decent conversation with you.

But this wasn’t another universe. This was reality and Joel had lost all hope in humankind a long time ago. Joel allowed himself to get lost in his own thoughts for a long time and by the time he’d snapped out of it, you were already fast asleep next to him, emitting light snores. He watched you, watched as your chest rose and fell with every breath. You looked so peaceful.

Truth was, Joel wasn’t entirely sure he could fall asleep here next to you. There was no way of telling if this forest was safe. Certainly he found it difficult to imagine there’d be signs of infected around but people? That was certainly plausible. Making sure his rifle was close enough to grab in case of an emergency, Joel took another glance towards you.

So goddamn pretty.

Joel didn’t know when, but at some point in the night, he’d gotten hard. Probably because he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you all night. He felt like such a creep for watching you sleep, but even under the pearly white stars and the sunset orange embers bouncing from the campfire, you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever saw. And he wanted you.

Now, Joel probably wasn’t as touch-starved as you were, but still, it had been a helluva long time since he last got laid. Without drawing his gaze away from you, he reached his hand down into his sleeping bag and dipped it into his boxer shorts began to pump at his already throbbing manhood. His eyes snapped shut at the shock of the thrill which raced through his body. There was something so erotic about doing this outside, with you laying next to him, unbeknownst to it all. Stifling a groan, with his free hand Joel gathered the material of his sleeping bag and squeezed it with pleasure.

The coarseness, roughness, of his hands was never ideal, but he had no trouble imagining the softness of yours. Your hands were a lot smaller than his, and your fingers were a lot thinner, and as he stroked his cock, his toes curled at the thought of you in between his legs, playing with him.

He hissed your name through his teeth as he begin to feel a knot tie in his lower stomach, indicating that he was close. God, he’d only been at himself for a few minutes and he was going crazy for you. You stirred slightly at the mention of your name but Joel wasn’t paying attention anymore. Now his eyes were shut and his entire body was tensed up as his hand movements became faster. He guessed it wouldn’t be so bad if he finished quick because the longer he touched himself, the more chance you’d wake up and discover him.

But for some reason, that only stirred Joel on even more. Of course, he wasn’t trying to wake you up, but there came a point where he was so enveloped in his own lustfilled thoughts, he didn’t even notice you whisper his name softly through the night.

“Joel?”

Briefly, Joel registered the sound of your voice but he thought nothing of it. So deep in thought— he was close. He moaned your name back.

You stilled, your eyes widening when your gaze dropped to his crotch and you noticed the movements of his hands underneath the thin material of the sleeping bag.

“Oh… Joel.” you mumbled, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as you nimbly slipped out of your sleeping bag and quietly crawled over to him.

He still hadn’t noticed you, but between the tinnitus in his right ear and being so lost in his own thoughts, you couldn’t blame him. On your knees and by his side, you placed the palm of your hand on his chest and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, alerting him immediately.

His movements stopped and his eyes snapped open in horror, only to be met by your wide smirk.

“Hey cowboy,” you teased, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt.

“Shit.” Joel cursed, looking away from you. “I— you shouldn’t have saw me— I’m—“

You hushed him by placing a soft, chase kiss upon his lips. Joel froze and softened under you, completely feeling at ease under your touch. It has been years since he had been kissed. You hovered over him, finding his gaze in the dark before pressing a harder, more intimate kiss to his lips. Joel moaned underneath you and brought out his hand from under the sleeping bag, releasing his cock and bringing it to cradle the back of your head.

“Let’s get you out of here,” you giggled, unzipping Joel’s sleeping bag and bringing yours next to his, giving you both some kind of barrier between the grassy ground.

Joel’s belt was already undone and the zipper of his jeans pulled down.

Still beaming, you straddled Joel, positioning yourself over his lap and continued unbuttoning his shirt before before peeling it off his torso and discarding it into the corner.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Joel asked softly and his tone of voice took you by surprise.

“If I didn’t want to be doing this, I wouldn’t be grinding on you already, cowboy,” you giggled, thrusting your hips over the material of his jeans and getting a feel for his bulge.

Joel swallowed and nodded his head in agreement. Hastily, he brought his hands to your waist and guided you over his hips. You tossed back your head and let out a moan.

“Oh, I need you.” you whimpered, bringing Joel’s hands to your breasts and letting him feel the hard pebbles of your nipples under your t-shirt.

Growing impatient, Joel tugged on your shirt and you let him pull it off your body. He then smoothly unclipped your bra and let it fall off, before using his large, rough hands to cup and fondle your breasts.

“Joel,” you gasped, pushing back onto his legs and taking the hem off his jeans in your grip. “I need you,” you repeated. “Need you inside of me.”

Joel choked out a wanton groan at your words and nodded his head again. You took his signal as confirmation that he wanted this too, and tugged down his denim along with his underwear.

You removed your own pants and then sunk down ontop of him, sighing an air of relief when you felt the skin on skin contact. Joel adjusted himself and gave you a questioning look.

“I’m ready.” you whispered and leaned down, pressing your chest against Joel’s. Joel pushed himself inside of you and you tensed up, digging your nails into his shoulders as you adjusted to him. He was so big and thick, and yet he felt like he fit inside you perfectly. Like he was made for you.

Joel slowly thrusted upwards and into you, stretching you out. When you felt comfortable enough, you sat upright and rested your hands on his tummy.

“Show me how to ride, cowboy,” You urged. “You said earlier, it’s all in the hips? Show me.”

Joel looked up at you with wide eyes and extended his arms around you. He held onto you, and you felt like putty under his grip.

“Show me what you got, girl.” The handsome man demanded, his voice having dropped an octave.

You began to roll your hips over him, and Joel squeezed his eyes shut. “That feel good for you?” you taunted, letting a giggle escape your lips. Joel wordlessly nodded.

“Try— try circle your hips.” Joel requested, and immediately you changed your movements. You’d do anything to please him. You felt yourself get increasingly wet, making it easier and more comfortable to move freely. “That’s good.” he praised under his breaths.

“This is how you ride?” you enquired, raising an eyebrow as you continued to circle your hips.

“This is how you learn,” Joel corrected. “It’s all a process, baby girl. You go straight into the ridin’, you’ll get hurt.”

Joel leaned forward and pressed himself into you, the curve of his cock hitting you in just the right spot, You held onto him, gripping onto the broad of his back and this time, Joel kissed you. He yearned for your lips— for your affection. He dragged his tongue along your collarbone and planted sloppy kisses up your neck, along your jaw, and finally to your mouth. He slid his tongue along your lower lip, begging for entry, which you quickly granted him, and started to make out with you.

“Joel,” you whispered against his lips, and he pulled off you, allowing you to speak. “I need more.”

“Think you’re ready for your next lesson?” he quizzed, pressing his nose against yours.

“Mhm.” you replied. “Teach me.”

Joel leaned back again and brought his hands down to your hips. “I want you to bounce on my cock sweet girl, show me what you can do.”

You grinned with excitement and began to move yourself up and down, grinding on his cock so you could feel every ridge and vein against your walls.

You felt yourself clench around him, indicating that you were close.

“Shit, like this I won’t last long.” Joel admitted bashfully, his cheeks flushing pink.

“Me neither,” you replied, and began to speed up your movements. “Joel— please. Please cum inside of me.”

Joel panted, bringing his hands up to massage your tits. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, oh— please.” you begged him. “Please cowboy.”

With those two words, Joel spurted ropes of his warm seed inside of you, painting your walls a milky white. Feeling him fill you, you clenched one last time around his cock and let a blinding hot light envelope you as you rode out your own high.

You rolled off the man and laid next to him, catching your breath. “How was that? Did I pass the test?” you nudged him playfully.

Joel let out a laugh and you felt your heart flutter at the sound of him displaying genuine happiness. “You passed the test,” he chuckled. “But— there’s still plenty more for you to learn.”

“Well,” you shrugged. “You do make a pretty good teacher.”

Joel wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his chest. “Sun will rise in a few hours, you should go back to sleep.” he hummed into your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You closed your eyes, still in sheer bliss, and smiled.

You couldn’t believe that just a few hours earlier, you were so sure that Joel hated you.

You’d never been so wrong.

——— Taglist: ———

(I’m working on rebuilding a brand new taglist ever since returning to Tumblr. Let me know if you want to be added!)

@pedrosprincess

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #smut #tlou #the last of us

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one)

Hello, and welcome back to Addams Family B-Side, where I take my Addams Family Steddie idea and flip the cassette tape

This is part of a larger series in which I give Steve Harrington good parents from different shows/movies/etc. If there are any other people you think would make good parents for Steve, let me know! I'll take them into consideration and see if inspiration sparks :D

Also, there's a meme at the end, so enjoy that hfjks

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

---------

Just because Steve finds Eddie Munson fascinating, that doesn't mean he's going to immediately move to wooing the guy. Well. He would, but his mother has some reasonable yet strict rules about these things, the first of all being that Steve can't like someone just for a pretty face. Or sizable personal wealth. He's got to talk to the person to figure out if they can stand each other before commencing the romancing.

Steve doesn't see himself getting a chance to talk to Eddie anytime soon, so he morosely (and it's not even fun this time) puts his fascination on the back burner for the rest of the day.

Then school ends, and Pubert has some after-school commitment, so Steve waits for him in the grossest bathroom he can find on campus. It's near the fine arts hall, has a flickering light above the mirror, and sports mold in one corner that Steve is tempted to harvest for Grandmama. He bets it'd make a great ingredient for something.

He's just about to scrape some of the mold away when the door slams open. Steve looks up in time to see Eddie (his eyes wide and somewhat terrified, and Steve is briefly angry and consumed by the thought that he's the only one who should be making Eddie scared like that) slip across the tile and crash into the wall on the far side of the bathroom.

Steve is momentarily stunned by Eddie's appearance, his heart lurching in his chest and the sudden urge to hide behind something rearing its head. In the back of his mind, he remembers his father describing the first time he saw Debbie; how he clammed up and was so in awe of her that he couldn't say a thing. Steve finally gets it. If he tried to speak right now, he'd probably only mumble or mutter something unintelligible.

Steve is about to try anyway when the door slams open again and three other boys walk in. They're wearing letterman jackets, and Steve recognizes one of them from lunch. He wasn't the boy who called Eddie a prick, but he was sitting at that table and looking particularly annoyed. Now, he just looks taken aback by Steve's presence, and the feeling is mutual.

"You're that new kid, right?" he asks, his lips pulled back in a sneer as he looks Steve up and down. "Get out."

"I was here first," Steve says, frowning slightly as he glances from the boys to Eddie. "What are you doing?"

"We're teaching this dipshit a lesson for disrespecting us," the guy says, cracking his knuckles and narrowing his eyes at Steve. "So, unless you want your ass kicked, too, get out."

Oh. This is bullying. Steve blinks, a sudden glee building in his chest. He glances at Eddie. "Were you planning to fight back?" he asks, figuring he won't take that fun away.

Eddie stares at him like he's clinically insane, and Steve is a little flattered. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Eddie asks, throwing a hand out and gesturing at the guys. "They're brick shithouses."

Steve hums softly and nods, swinging his backpack off his shoulders and opening the main pocket. As he's rummaging around, he hears the ringleader of the jocks (that's what they'd be called in a movie, he thinks) scoff at him. "Are you fucking dumb? Or are you that eager for a ride in an ambulance?" he asks.

Finally, Steve finds what he's looking for and smiles. "Oh. No. I just had to get a weapon," he says, pulling his travel mace out of his bag. He presses a button and spikes release from the ball on the end. Steve looks up at the jocks with an eager smile. "Who first?"

"What the fuck is that?!"

Steve blinks, a little worried about the public education system. "It's a weapon. A mace, to be exact. There's three of you. This evens the odds," he explains.

The three take a step back, looking at Steve like he's clinically insane, and this time he's disgusted by the gesture. "You're fucking crazy," the first one says before turning heel and leaving the bathroom. The other two follow closely behind, and Steve has to stifle the sheer disappointment.

He sighs and retracts the spikes, placing the mace back into his bag. "Are you disappointed you didn't get to fight?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve's attention back.

Eddie is noticeably more relaxed now, and he's looking at Steve like he's an enigma. That's not quite as good as clinically insane, but it's still flattering nonetheless. Steve swallows down the nerves that suddenly appear again, trying to channel his mother's calm confidence instead. "A little," he admits, zipping up his bag before slinging it back onto his shoulders. "I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington."

"Oh, uh, Eddie Munson."

"I know. I saw you at lunch."

Eddie perks up a little, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah? And what did you think, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at him for a moment before taking a step forward, the faint scent of weed and cheap body spray making its way to him. He makes a quick mental note to look into colognes for one that would fit Eddie best (perhaps something crisp and harsh like a wild blizzard with inescapable winds). "I think," Steve says, holding Eddie's gaze, "that you've got incredible conviction."

"Uh, thanks?"

"You're welcome," Steve says, studying Eddie a moment longer. "Let me know if they bother you again. I can pull out a bomb next time."

Before Eddie can respond, the door swings open for a third time. Steve looks over his shoulder and pulls back when he sees Pubert. "Ready to go?" Pubert asks, glancing between the two. "Or am I interrupting something?"

"Not interrupting. And yeah, ready to go."

"Wait, how do you know Pubert Addams?" Eddie asks, looking between the two with a frown. The emotion in his eyes is recognizable if only because Steve has seen it in his mother's eyes when someone beats her to a sale or happens to be wearing a nicer necklace. Jealousy, plain and simple.

Steve grins at Eddie, ready to soothe his jealousy when Pubert cuts in. "Save it," he says, grabbing Steve's hand, "we're gonna be late." With that, he pulls Steve out of the bathroom and down the hall.

"What was that for?" Steve asks.

"I've got to get my entertainment somehow," Pubert replies, smirking as he drops Steve's hand. "Watching someone be jealous will do for a while."

-----

When Steve gets home, leaving Pubert on the sidewalk without another glance because he's too excited to get inside and tell his mother about the crush that he's talked to, he finds only his father in the kitchen. Without needing to be asked, Fester says, "Debbie and Morticia went to get their nails done. It was an emergency. Apparently, Debbie couldn't tear open letters as easily anymore."

Steve nods once and drops his bag onto the island. "I'm in love," he announces.

His father freezes, a tray of roasted vegetables in his hands. A few moments pass before Fester fully processes Steve's words, and he asks, "Have you talked to them? You know your mother's rule."

"I have," Steve says, unable to help a grin, "and he's perfect."

Fester drops the tray onto the stovetop, and Steve suddenly finds himself lifted into the air and spun around. "In love! Oh, I hope it's miserable for you," Fester says.

Steve laughs, nearly tripping over his feet when Fester sets him down. "I haven't decided how to approach him yet," he admits, grabbing onto the counter for support.

"Tell me about him," Fester says, grabbing Steve's shoulders and staring intensely at him. It's like he thinks he'll be able to read Steve's mind if he refrains from blinking long enough.

Steve pushes his father into one of the chairs at the kitchen's island. "His name is Eddie Munson. He's got this wild look to him. Like, his hair is all wavy and kinda poofy like he got half-electrocuted. And his eyes are the most beautiful swamp-mud brown I've ever seen. He speaks with conviction and has a shirt with a demon head on it and has all these rings and spikes on his vest. And he looks incredible when he's terrified. I mean, if I hadn't been so angry, I would've proposed right there," Steve gushes, the words falling from him in a breathless rush.

"What made you angry?" Fester asks, quickly latching to the last point.

"These...jocks. That's what they're called. Jocks. They were chasing him for stuff he said at lunch. He made this whole speech at lunch, by the way. It was incredible. Way too short and just barely addressing the actual issues and he'd never win a single political campaign. Anyway, these jocks, they chased him into the bathroom where I was, and they had him outnumbered and were muscular, so he was scared of getting beat up, I think. They threatened to beat me up, too, which I was excited about, but they ran away when I pulled out my travel mace. I mean, how rude is that? It's just bad form to run when someone's pulled out a weapon."

"And he wasn't angry about you taking his chance to fight?" Fester asks.

"Not at all! He seemed relieved. I think he might be better with, you know, poisons or something," Steve explains, shrugging slightly. He knows everyone has their specialties; he's a master of physical brawls and fights, Pubert does best with explosives, his mother just has a way with words and manipulation, and his father can give people the creeps just by looking at them.

Fester nods, an eager grin taking over his face. "You've got to start wooing him!" he says, slapping his hand on the island counter and pushing himself out of his seat. "Start small, something to test the waters."

"Oh! I could get him a rat," Steve says, thinking of the ones that like to burrow around in their yard. They're big and fearless, and Steve used them to practice his prowling and hunting when he was young. He's got many fond memories of crouching and pouncing right before they scattered across the yard.

"Wait," Fester says, holding up a hand and thinking for a moment, "we should think like your mother. She's the most romantic person we know."

"She blew you up," Steve agrees, nodding seriously. "She'd probably say that I shouldn't give him a live rat. Because he's, uh, not like us?" Steve looks at Fester, waiting for his father to nod once in approval before continuing, "I think Mom talked about stuffed animals once. So, maybe I can get him a stuffed rat, instead."

"Yes! Good! And then you should...learn about his interests! What does he like?" Fester asks.

"I'll have to watch him to find out. I can probably make him something once I know. I mean, he's probably got normal interests, like bugs and poisons and torture practices, right? That's what most people like."

"Don't forget dancing or music."

"Right," Steve says, "dancing or music. But he'll probably have special interests, too. Like Satanism. I should watch for those."

With something akin to a plan in place, Steve leaves Fester to sneakily poison the roasted vegetables while he plans the first step of wooing Eddie.

-----

Ever since meeting Steve Harrington in the bathroom, Eddie has been feeling eyes on him. Not even the normal kind that are annoyed or just curious about the school's resident freak. No, these eyes are...intense. They're laser-focused on his every move and clearly filled with some kind of intentions that he can't discern.

He just doesn't know where they're coming from. When he looks around to see who's staring, he can't find anyone. It's been driving him crazy for almost a week now, and Eddie is just about ready to scream when he opens his locker and...

And finds a rat.

Like, a real rat.

Well, it's dead, but it was alive once. Eddie blinks, staring at the taxidermied rat innocently sitting on top of the pile of books and papers and folders stacked in his locker. It's big and has a surprisingly shiny brown coat, kind of like someone had given the thing a thorough wash with extra shampoo and conditioner. There's a blood-red ribbon wrapped around the rat's neck, a perfect bow tied behind its head, with a tag hanging from it. When Eddie hesitantly turns the tag over, he finds "Name: Kas" at the top and "Hope you like him" written on the bottom in careful, meticulous handwriting.

It should be creepy. It should be disturbing. Eddie should be paranoid beyond reason because how did the mystery gifter even know his locker combination? Did they stuff this rat themselves? Did they kill the rat themselves? Why the fuck would they give him a rat?

But...it's oddly...sweet? Somehow, Eddie can feel that it's not, like, a malicious gift. And he likes the rat. Kas. He likes Kas. Its fur is surprisingly soft when he picks it up, and Eddie spends a good minute just rubbing his thumb over its back.

Then he feels those eyes on him again. They're even more intense this time, like they're watching him closely to see his reaction and...oh. Is this...a weird secret admirer? Does Eddie "The Freak" Munson have a secret admirer? A weird one, sure, because who the fuck gifts taxidermied rats, but still.

He looks around, taking in the other students in the semi-crowded hallway, trying to find those eyes. He doesn't find anyone staring at him, but he does end up staring himself at Steve Harrington. The guy is leaning on a locker across the hall, inexplicably fiddling with a lightbulb as he talks to Pubert Addams, who's digging around in his own locker. If Eddie squints, he could almost convince himself that Steve's cheeks are a little pinker than normal.

After a few seconds, Steve glances up and meets his gaze. They stare at each other for a few tense moments, something building in Eddie's chest as the weight of Steve's eyes surrounds him. It doesn't feel bad, but he's not used to being the center of someone's attention like this. Normally, people are frowning when they pay attention to him. Or, if they're his friends, goading him on and joining in the joke. But this is different, like Steve finds him fascinating.

And then Pubert Addams slams his locker door shut and looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowing when he sees Eddie staring at Steve. He frowns, throws an arm over Steve's shoulders, and pulls him away. Pubert's shoulders are a little tense, his expression sour as he says something to Steve that results in one last, furtive glance at Eddie before he's out of sight.

Suddenly, nothing is more important to Eddie than figuring out what the fuck is going on between Steve Harrington and Pubert Addams.

------

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane,

And now, a meme for your viewing pleasure:

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b-side #addams! steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #pubert addams #fester addams #steve deserves good parents actually #my writing

[starry-bi-sky]

Hello Starry! I just had a thought about your Danyal al Ghul AU, and didn't have anyone else to share it with, so here we go:

If in this universe Bruce is Jewish, and Danny knows this(probably from a google search), he may wear a Star of David necklace to have a piece of his father with him at all times, since he knows he will never get to meet him. Or maybe the necklace sits in a box under a floorboard, because he can't stand the constant reminder of the father he'll never get to have. Maybe he observes Sam and her family celebrate Jewish holidays, or he learns how to by himself, but uses the time to mourn, instead of celebrate.

Anyways, hope all is well, and thank you for sharing your writing!

AAHHHH??? YOUR BRAIN??? Thank you!! I love sharing my writing, it soothes my need for attention lol. lmao, even. (Also how did you know i was thinking of my danyal al ghul au today -- i have an unfinished draft that i was thinking of delving into after my work meeting) also aahh!!!!!!!! im so happy that you wanted to share your thoughts with me about it <333

But dude BOTH of these ideas are soo?? GOOD and ANGSTY. I love angsty. Danny would for sure know if Bruce was Jewish, lil guy did an obsessive amount of research on his dad the moment he got his hands on a computer and figured out how they worked. Danny has like, a three inch thick folder almost on his father alone. Anything he could get his hands on, he's got it. That thickness is almost exclusively from his first like, six months in Amity Park. He keeps it in a box in his closet, along with his growing-folder on Damian and his achievements as Damian Wayne. He pages through it when he's feeling like mourning.

First off: him wearing a Star of David necklace to feel connected to Bruce. That is SO sad and I love it so much. He bought it with an allowance he'd been given when he first started living with the Fentons, he keeps it tucked under his shirt so nobody even knows he has it. Sam and Tucker don't until it slips out while he's hanging out with them and when they ask him about it, Danny very reluctantly tells them that his father is Jewish. When he's distracted, nervous, or sad, he fidgets with it. How this looks is that he looks like he's kinda rubbing his chest, like ungrasping and grasping something.

Second Off: him keeping it in a box under the floorboards. That is also so, so good. He's got it in the box along with a few other things that remind him of his father and Damian and his mother. He takes it out when he's feeling particularly lonely and homesick, it's a feeling that never really goes away even after five years of living in Amity Park. It's like a longing for something you'll never see again, but isn't that just how grief works? i can just imagine him sitting against the bed, late at night and back from patrol. He's still in his ghost form, his katana laid on the ground next to him, and his almost bird-like cape pooling down beside him as he cups the necklace in his hand like he's cradling an egg. Maybe he's bleeding from somewhere, and he's telling the necklace about patrol, murmured soft in Arabic.

When he finds out Sam is Jewish he probably, after much consideration, asks if he can observe their holidays -- after all, researching Jewish holidays only does so much. Sam agrees when he explains why, much to her parents chagrin, and he sometimes tags along. But once he gets an understanding of how they go, he starts doing it on his own. Somewhat. He celebrates with Sam for most of it, and then has some time to himself where he celebrates it on his own. So it's a little bit of both.

^^^ which brings me to thinking about my danyal snippet here where Sam is at a Wayne gala and tears into her parents over Danny in front of Bruce. And it's making me think of, with this idea in mind, Sam in a moment of emotional impulsivity, saying "I know that he wears a Star of David because his father is Jewish and he wants to be closer to him, because he loves him so very fucking much." And while saying that, briefly makes direct eye contact with Bruce as a way to tell him "I know you're his fucking dad. Look at the son you have left behind."

If only for the emotional gut punch that can leave Bruce with. 🥰

Thank you for the ask! I had a lot of fun responding to it, have a fantastic evening/day/night.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #danyal al ghul #danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #also courtesy of my good friend the-navistar-carol danyal is very 'paul revere' by noah kahan coded. you should def give it a listen if you #have the time. the lyrics go HARD look: 'but I'm in my car and I see the yard. the patch of grass where we buried the dog and the world- #makes sense behind a chainlink fence. if i could leave i would've already left.' AND 'and when they ask me who i am. i'll say i'm not from #around here.' like absolutely go take a listen if you have the time. #if anyone were to see him while he's talking to the necklace they might see him crying once or twice. but that's not possible. #al ghuls do not cry.

[comradekatara]

Can you share any thoughts/headcannons about Ty Lee's sisters?

i’ve talked before about how i think that aang would date one of ty lee’s sisters and it would really freak katara out because she’s terrified of ty lee and she thinks that nothing good can come from involving himself in that family. but aang is actually like best friends with her whole family because of their air nomad ancestry and he’s trying to get them all into embracing their culture more and teaching them about their heritage. and maybe even one of her sisters does have latent airbending powers (ty lee has like, very minimal airbending ability, but her sister can actually move the air and all that) so he’s just overjoyed to help her hone that skill.

also this isn’t really about her sisters but i think that the chi-blocking girl from the legacy of yangchen who gets relocated to yangchen’s air temple for her own safety is a distant ancestor of ty lee’s. not because ty lee like epigenetically discovered the ability to chi-block (if anything i think ty lee discovered it on her own) but because i just think that’s a fun intersection and i do feel like fc yee incorporated it deliberately. anyway back to her sisters.

one of them dates aang, one of them is an airbender (possibly the same one?), at least one of them is also gay (just, statistically speaking), and unlike what the stupid comics will tell you, just because they all look identical does not mean that they wear matching hairstyles and outfits. they definitely each have their own sense of style and a complex about being unique and distinguished in their individual field. if anything i think ty lee incorporates their insecurities into her persona during her confession on the beach because she knows firsthand that the desire to distinguish oneself runs rampant in their family. like she’s clearly exaggerating as a deliberate performance of vulnerability, but it does come from a real place, if only through borrowing the anxieties of her sisters.

one is an accomplished musician, one is an accomplished mathematician, one is an accomplished engineer, one in an accomplished artist, one is an accomplished poet, one is an accomplished architect, and ty lee is the accomplished performer(/acrobat/fighter/liar). she could also probably be good at all those things too if she put her mind to it, but they all tacitly respect one another’s boundaries.

they come from a family that cares about nothing more than entrenching themselves within the fire nation aristocracy, and so their parents never really cared about their wellbeing as long as they were excelling. and ty lee was particularly favored because she’s excessively charming and knows how to get her way in any situation, and also, of course, because she’s the chosen playmate of the princess.

the pressure to always be perfect and provide an “in” for her family gets to be too much for her so she runs away to the join the circus, and she kind of assumes that they won’t even notice because she left behind six identical copies, but they get really worried because what will happen to their family now that they no longer have a direct link to the palace? so they’re really relieved to hear that ty lee is once again working with azula after news of the coup on ba sing se reaches the fire nation. and then they hear that she betrayed azula and got herself imprisoned and they’re furious. they actively consider disowning her, but then they figure if she’s already in prison for life, why bother. but then a few months later, they learn that now she’s friends with the avatar and the new firelord, which is even better than being friends with the princess, so they accept her back.

not that she wants to go home, but aang has suspicions about her ancestry that he wants to confirm so he makes her take him to her house and introduces him to all her sisters and her parents. they all show off their various talents to aang because they’re so nervous to be meeting the avatar, but he’s literally impressed by every single one of them. any time any of them do anything he’s just like “wow that’s awesome!!!” completely sincerely. he thinks ty lee’s family is so cool and has dinner with them whenever he can.

after the war aang gets really intent on finding all the remnants of the air nomad legacy through tracking down the air nomad refugees whose families assimilated into other nations over the past century. and he and ty lee (and her sisters) embark on this really in-depth archival project to collect all the traces of her family and families like hers as a way to honor and commemorate their cultural heritage. ty lee learns a lot about her family and what they had to do to survive (and how that mirrors her own life). and even though it’s nothing like it was before, aang finds a community of people who want to reconnect with their heritage and piece by piece, he slowly rebuilds what was lost.

#the-wright #asks #ty lee #aang #aang&tylee #postwargaang #sorry this turned into aang central #but in my mind ty lee and aang are like this 🤞 #which katara HATES btw #she’s like ‘couldn’t the air nomad heritage belong to anyone other than THE WORST GIRL ALIVE?????????’ #and aang’s just like awww no she’s nice #to which katara is like that’s just what she WANTS you to think . #she’s fine w aang dating just NOT IN THAT FAMILY

[morganbritton132]

ahhhh i just spent the last three days reading every post on the emtts tag and im in love with your whole little universe. i kept meaning to make a list of all of the little things but i kept getting distracted and forgetting so i only started at april 18th bc i NEED (subject to your willingness to expand/care act this particular part of your universe) to hear more about all of the little stories of steve getting arrested (particularly hopper arresting steve?? and them breaking into steves parents house?)

thanks for this amazing space!! you’ve made a universe that ive been thinking about constantly and that expands on the characters in such a beautiful mundane way, its very cool!!

ps i just read one of the follow ups in the death threat part where steve admits he doesn’t want to stop teaching bc dustin asks eddie about it and i think im about to cry holy shit

pps on the death threat part with diane oh god. like just steve having to figure it out in front of her and her explaining to him and him admitting to just not being ok i just

First, thank you so much! This is all so very nice of you to say and props for getting through everything in three days. It is quite a bit! It’s honestly amazing how much has been written in such a short amount of time. I’m only going to cover Steve getting ‘arrested’ and I’ll touch on Steve and Eddie’s breaking and entering at a later date.

Steve started having seizures a little after they closed the gate on the Upside Down for good or, well. They started noticing that he was having seizures after they closed the gate. It was heavily implied in the undertone of his doctor’s voice that these seizures were likely going on for a while and that they likely not going to stop anytime soon.

Steve took this news as well as anybody could.

Everybody was kinda waiting for him to have a breakdown over it, but it never happened because Steve was – well, he wasn’t fine. Obviously. But it is what it is, right? If the worst thing to come out of all this Upside Down stuff is that he’s a little dumber than he was before than how could he complain?

Max was learning how to walk again.

What Steve didn’t take well was his doctor telling him that he wasn’t allowed to drive anymore. In fact, he did not take that news at all. He completely ignored it, and he ignored the looks that Robin when give him when he drove himself to work, and he would say, “It’s not like I’m driving the kids around or anything. It’s just me.”

“And that’s supposed to make me worry less?”

“I pull over if I feel weird.”

He wasn’t actually driving all that much anyways. Robin got her permit and Eddie got the all-clear to drive again, so no one needed to rope Nancy into lecturing him about ‘the dangers.’ He didn’t need Dustin’s complaining or Eddie’s ‘hey, maybe you should listen to them’ or Joyce stopping him on his way out the door. And he didn’t need Hopper.

Steve was learning to accept that sometimes he needed help. He was doing better, but Steve practically lived alone despite the jokes people were making about him being at Eddie’s all the time, and he wasn’t going to bother someone just because he needed toilet paper.

Steve was sitting in his car outside of the Fair Mart, trying to remember why he needed to go there in the first place, when there was a knock on his window. He startled and blinked hard twice before looking over at the drivers’ side window. He frowned.

Hopper was standing there and he looked annoyed. He gestured for him to get out of the car and Steve frowned more, fumbling with his seatbelt before pushing the door open. For lack of anything else to do once he was out of the car, Steve said, “Hey, what’s up?”

Hopper frowned more like he was annoyed with Steve which was, in itself, was really annoying because Steve didn’t do anything. He was just here to buy… He was here to get… Wait. “Huh?”

Hopper sighed loudly and repeated himself. Slowly. “Give me. Your keys.”

Maybe it was Hopper’s tone or maybe there was some stock in what his doctor said mood swings, or maybe Steve was just tired of everybody treating him like a baby that needed taken care of and watched. Just when Hopper reached to take the keys out of his hand, Steve shoved him away.

Everything kinda blurred at the edges and the headache that’s been wedged in the corner of Steve’s jaw pulsed. He didn’t really take a breath until Hopper shoved him against the hood of his car.

Hopper cuffed metal around his wrists and said, “Good going, Harrington.”

Steve yanked on his arm and snapped back, “You’re not even a cop anymore. You can’t arrest me.”

“Call it a citizen’s arrest.”

Eddie laughed for four minutes of Steve’s five minute phone call at the police station. He laughed so hard that Steve knew that he was holding his side where the bites were the deepest because they were still tender, and Steve just rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up. Are you gonna get me?”

“Hm, yeah,” Eddie grinned through the phone. “Yeah. It’s a little ironic that the Prom K-“

Steve hung up the phone.

The ‘charges’ that Hopper (not a cop) threatened to ‘throw the book at him’ for were driving without a valid driver’s license. There was a part of Steve that knew that this was all just for show to teach him a lesson, but still argued that he had a valid license because no one took it away from him, and actually, “This is false imprisonment, right? Maybe I should call my family lawyer.”

It was even more annoying that Eddie – rolling into the building smelling like weed an hour later – agreed with Hopper. 

#I want to make one thing clear: Eddie is high as shit when he goes to the police station #also wanted to imply that Steve might’ve had a seizure in the parking lot of the fair mart #I know I’ve been a bit slow responding to people’s prompts and that’s probs going to continue for a bit #there’s a lot going on irl right now and I’ve hit an emotional wall #still going to post though obvs #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson #jim hopper

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my parents to pay my tuition for the semester, lying about how I lost my scholarship, and then planning on lying to my dad regarding his requirements in exchange for him paying the tuition?

My (20X) college has a scholarship for offspring of faculty members, and I was lucky enough to have my application accepted by the college that my dad (53M) works at. This means that I get a full ride scholarship; if I graduate within 4 years, I won't have to pay a single penny to my college (books and supplies not included, of course).

Unfortunately, the scholarship does have two requirements; I need to have taken at least a certain amount of credits semester before (not a ridiculous number), and for that semester, I need to have gotten over a 2.0/4.3 GPA. Easy enough, right? Who can't get a GPA over 2.0?

Well. I suffered a mental health downfall the past semester and I ended up failing half my classes. I was unable to sit my finals. I know this wasn't smart of me, and I think I should've done something about my academic situation other than just wait for the semester to be over, but I had quit a semester due to my mental health decline previously and I didn't want a repeat of that. In any case, I got a GPA of about 1.6. I'm not on probation but I did receive a warning.

Fortunately, this doesn't mean I lost my scholarship for good. I just need to fulfill those requirements in the upcoming semester and I get it back.

I realized I did need to pay my tuition this semester two days before tuition fee acceptance closes and I debated telling only one of my parents. My mom wants me to finish college no matter what, and my dad has told me that he does not care anymore as long as I don't stress him out. He's also told me he no longer has any expectations for me whatsoever. I did also consider talking about it with my brother and borrowing money from him to put together the tuition fee.

I figured I'd bite the bullet and just told my dad, who I know has been stressed about my future and how badly I'm doing in college. I just casually dropped it as I was making breakfast for myself and then we had a lengthy conversation that my mother (51F) joined when she got back home.

I don't remember much of the conversation (I may have memory problems) but the AITA mentioned part is that I lied to my parents and told them I did sit all my finals and try my best. I didn't. I tried that for mid term exams but I had nothing to write, so for finals I didn't sit them at all. This happened with three of the classes I was taking. I just didn't take my finals. My dad was suspicious of my claim; he said that as a professor himself he wouldn't fail students who at least submitted homework and sat their exams to write anything at all, but I maintained that I tried.

The conclusion was that my dad would be willing to pay my tuition if I got my shit together and also deleted my social media, which he thinks is a drain on my time and energy. He's not wrong. I deleted my Twitter accounts immediately afterwards (which my parents don't know about) because I've been thinking about it, but I can't really bring myself to get rid of Discord, where so many of my friends are. People I've met while studying internationally, long-term friends who moved to other countries; Discord is the only way to contact these people.

This is the AITA part; if my dad follows up on that particular requirement to check if I deleted Discord, which he particularly dislikes (he has previously confiscated the electronics I bought with my own money that I earned, after he saw me on muted call at night with some friends), I plan on deleting the app/program on my devices but using it anyway as a website. This would be a betrayal of my dad's trust in me, but there's no love lost between us anyway. He's already told me he doesn't love me unconditionally. (Yes, I'm his biological child and he did raise me.)

I also feel like an asshole because I could've settled this with the help of my brother; I'd pick up a job during the winter break to pay him back, but it would have been done eventually. Or I could've just gone to my mom. She works her own job, and we could've figured it out together without telling my dad. I told my dad anyway, wanting him to pay the tuition, even though I knew that talking about having to spend money on his kids stresses him out deeply.

My mom also told my dad to go to therapy (in detail, so I know it wasn't just something she said as a throwaway thing) during the conversation. It did get heated. I don't disagree, but I don't know if that'd be okay; mental health is stigmatized where I am, and my dad as a grown adult man and a respected professor if seen going to therapy could have his reputation kind of effected. It wouldn't have happened if I just brought up this whole situation quietly up to my mom, or just my brother.

So I lost my scholarship, I lied to my parents about the technicalities of how that happened, and I'm asking for some amount of money from my parents but also planning on lying to them in regards to the terms they set out. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[amaya-writes]

rewatched black clover then saw your event and now i'm thinking how would Finral, Gauche and Leo introduce their fiance to their siblings. for the sake of this req let's say their siblings had no idea they were getting engaged (for Leo maybe his sis knew but brother didn't? idk i cant imagine neither of them knowing)

Ringtober Masterlist

Notes: sorry for the delay!

Warnings: n/a just fluff

Characters involved: Finral Roulacase, Gauche Adlai, Leopold Vermillion

Fem reader, you/yours

Finral Roulacase

His brother needs a minute.

Literally just points at Finral then you and goes you actually managed to convice her to fall for you?

Might make fun of Finral a bit but Finral can tell he's secretly happy for him.

Langris is more interested in the ring than you, he is glad to say that his brother has good taste in jewellery.

They end up discussing family matters after that and what's going to happen with certain pre established marriage agreements.

Overall Langris doesn't really care much, sure he's happy his brother found someone but it's kind of a 'meh' moment for him.

He isn't interested in getting to know you either, in his head you're like the Black Bulls—someone his brother likes but he doesn't particularly care for.

Don't expect to see much of him around either, although he does expect a wedding invite even if he might snark on about not attending.

He does in fact attend.

Gauche Adlai

His sister is so excited it's honestly adorable.

You've already met in the past since Gauche had to introduce the two most important girls in his life to each other, but she gets very excited at the prospect of having you as her future sister.

Gauche has to roam around with tissues because he keeps getting nosebleeds at the idea of the three of you living together like a happy lil family.

Once she finds our you're going to be her future sister in law his sister constantly asks about you when Gauche visits. He almost can't visit her without you because she sometimes seems sad and then Gauche feels very bad.

This one time the two of you got into a fight and she asked about you and told Gauche something along the lines of you better not take my sister away from me and to this day he does his best to never argue with you.

Overall your relationship is really sweet. Since Gauche is kind of like her father figure anyways you sort of become a maternal figure for her.

Leopold Vermillion

Fuegoleon is so genuinely surprised he doesn't even know how to react.

Their parents called all three children to the house for dinner which was surprising in itself, so when he sees you there he is pretty confused.

You're a close family friend, and ever since you were children it was sort of a given that Leo was yours and you were his. You two were just fated to be together.

But Fuegoleon presumed that his parents would at least give him of all people some forewarning before an engagement.

He ends up finding out that Leo actually proposed out of nowhere, you accepted and told both families a few days ago.

So why was Fuegoleon so late to the party?

His sister finds the entire situation funny and doesn't miss a beat before teasing Fuegoleon for being slow and not seeing the signs. Like how Leo suddenly decided to visit their grandfather (for a ring that was pre decided) the day he proposed.

Fuegoleon is honestly very pleased with the entire ordeal. You were always like a little sister to him anyways, but now that relationship is just solidified.

He does however tease Leo quite a bit about being a man and the responsibilities that come with marriage.

He's kind of surprised that Leo is going to be the first of the three of them to be married. That's Fuegoleon biggest concern rather than the sudden announcement.

Mereoleona definitely teases him about how their little brother has a better love life than him.

#amaya's ringtober 2023 #black clover #black clover au #black clover fanfiction #black clover x y/n #black clover x reader #black clover x you #finral roulacase #finral black clover #finral x reader #finral roulacase x reader #gauche x you #gauche x y/n #gauche x reader #gauche adlai #gauche black clover #leopold vermillion #leopold hcs #gauche hcs #gauche headcanons #leopold vermillion x reader #leo x reader #leopold fanfic

[covencupid]

dilf!ghost, or "oops you're parents now!"

I'm succumbing to the pressure of no one and writing the dilf!simon riley fic because I never want children and this is my only way of test driving a dilf fantasy. Posting this mainly so that if y'all like it enough you can bully me into actually finishing it. I'm sorry I need to work under pressure to perform well. Anyway, here's the main pieces of the story.

———

A drunken promise made long ago to a friend now lost.

Two children displaced into the unsure hands of Simon "Ghost" Riley.

Simon had vowed to never become a father, to never even open the door of possibility to become the thing that had raised him. Simon was notified to prepare his house for the kids' arrival before he was told that his old partner had passed in a tragic accident with his wife. No next of kin, only the man that had drunkenly agreed to be the children's godfather years before.

Simon tries on his own at first for the time being as he figured the best way to tackle the care of these children while factoring the demands of his work.

You, my dear, darling reader, are a "freelancer" that the 141 employs occasionally for espionage, information, and more "covert" assassinations. You like to think of yourself as an actor. You walk in the shoes of many people every day and you live carefree, transiently. There are no plans to change your lifestyle. You want your life to course like an endless river, never slowing. For a particularly sensitive mission, you play the part of a new nanny for the three wild children of your target . You are relaying information back directly to Ghost. The tools of your espionage are the loose mouths of babes that you pretend not to understand. When the 141's capture attempt goes south, you unexpectedly show some seemingly genuine maternal instinct over the children you've been pretending to care for. A feat that Simon notices instantly.

After drinks, post-mission, Simon seeks you out to ask you for the ultimate favor.

"You- what?" Ain't no way this giant skeleton just asked you to help him raise his newly acquired children.

"Look, I don't know how to treat kids. They ask me for things I don't understand. You do. You get them, and they like you. I've seen how you are with them."

"I don't know how to raise kids? I'm playing pretend, Ghost. I'm not a mom and I wouldn't be a good one anyway."

"Look, I know. I wouldn't be asking you if I had better, if any, alternatives." He looks lost in a way you can't say you've ever seen him. It was a situation that didn't call for his brutal skillset. He was adrift. Fuck. "What you can pretend is better than anything I can try to do for them right now. It's not forever. I know I can't keep them and I wont. I'll support them, pay for anything they will ever need, put them in good schools, get them every bit of help they need. Right now they've lost everything they've known. They have nothing, and I'm not exactly an easy transition. That is why I'm asking you."

Fuck.

Deep breath. "How long do you need me?"

------------

So, yeah that's the gist of it. If I do write it, it would expand a bit before and after what's detailed above and it would eventually, naturally get dirt nasty. But also add some jealousy, trauma, hurt/comfort, "cheating" but not really, and daddy issues for everyone!

Tell me what you think!

#ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 smut #ghost x reader

[discowingneckline]

How do you think Dick reacts to be mistaken for Damian’s father? How would Damian react if Dick didn’t correct someone making the mistake?

Okay, so before I get into that, I want to talk about how I personally see the dynamics between Damian with Bruce, Talia, and Dick. I don't accept the idea that Talia al Ghul is a bad parent or that the al Ghuls are super abusive in the way comics has portrayed them from Morrison's run and after. I think it's racist, and I think it's overall shitty writing. Damian Wayne had said he is proud of both Talia and Bruce, don't ask me where that happened. It's a miracle I even remember it happened. There's also the one thing of Dick and Damian that my pookie @confusedhummingbird reblogged one of my things with, and I'll just steal that delightful panel for your convenience.

Anyway, so basically what I'm saying is that I don't particularly enjoy when Dick is hailed as a great parent compared to Bruce and Talia. Bruce and Talia definitely have some horrible fuck-ups (with Talia's being very racist in nature, and I swear to gods if someone fucking tries arguing her character wasn't treated in a racist manner, you're getting blocked so fucking fast). Like Bruce definitely did some fucked up shit too, but in general, I don't necessarily think he does a completely shit job at being a dad. In fact, when Batman is written in a halfway decent way, he is a pretty good dad in my opinion.

While Dick definitely did a good job with Damian, I think it would be pretty out of character for Dick to just discount Bruce and Talia's role as parents for Damian unless it was something pretty big and bad for Damian, in which case Bruce and Talia are probably being written fucking weirdly.

So onto your actual question! I think Dick would be...not bashful, but somewhere in there. I also think he'd just take it in stride and not correct them unless Damian wanted him to. He definitely doesn't want to overstep those kinds of boundaries with Damian if he has them. I also think depending on where they are at/what they are doing definitely contributes to how he'd react. Like when they were out as Batman and Robin, definitely was fine with the dad-son thing there. Out as Nightwing and Robin, doesn't bother to correct them. I don't think they'd get mistaken for being father-son in Gotham or in Blüdhaven, and I don't think any hero would mistake them for being father-son unless they were like new, new. But yeah, just depends.

I don't think Damian would really correct someone now. When Bruce died, in the period he was really learning from Stephanie, Dick, and Alfred, he probably would've corrected them. I don't think so now. I think family dynamics are a lot more fluid than people like to claim they are. Personally, I have a lot of people I see in parental roles, and one of them (which I don't see anymore because they are racist) were in a similar age range that Dick and Damian are. I didn't get mad or correct people when they thought I was their kid. I was either 1) embarrassed, 2) didn't care to make the effort to correct them, and 3) happy to be seen as such close family to them. That, and all the changes going on in his life at that time, and Dick's pretty much unwavering support for Damian leads me to believe that Damian wouldn't mind being seen as Dick's kid. I think he understands that Dick took on a parental role for him, and he can understand that he still has his biological parents to rely on.

SO! Basically, Dick doesn't correct people because I don't think a lot of people in their life would get it confused, and Damian doesn't mind because Dick is a parental figure in his life, and it isn't some sort of replacement figure for his biological parents.

#op #dick grayson #dc #dc comics #nightwing #batman #robin damian #damian wayne #damian wayne al ghul #talia al ghul #bruce wayne #family dynamics #batfamily #ant's daily hot takes #ant answers

[shegeekery]

Reparenting Loki

I want to talk about a dynamic in the Loki/Mobius relationship (in the Loki TV-series) that I've seen touched on but not really discussed in depth.

Note to Lokius-lovers: nothing I say here in any way precludes a healthy romantic relationship. They're both consenting adults, after all, and this wasn't a formal therapist-client relationship.

There's a technique in therapy called "reparenting". The idea is that trauma and behaviors caused by bad parenting can be addressed to some extent if the therapist assumes the role of a "good parent".

I think we can all agree that the "All-Father" was crap as an actual father. Odin knew that Loki took after him even more than Thor did, but many of those shared traits were things that he tried to hide from everyone, while Thor better represented the image he wanted to project. The result was a cruel favoritism, which was picked up by Thor and the rest of the Asgardians. Frigga's love and support wasn't enough to counteract that cruelty, particularly in a strongly patriarchal society like Asgard.

Side note (because I'm that kind of geek): there were so many similarities between Odin and Loki (Odin's friend and blood-brother rather than his son) in the old Norse myths that some scholars have suggested that Loki was at one point simply an aspect of Odin. There's also evidence that the stories as they came down to us were manipulated by the Christians who committed them to writing to shoehorn Loki into something more like the Christian Devil.

Anyway, getting back to our guys... Within the context of the TVA, Mobius represented an authority figure to Loki, who had a long history of rebelling against (or betraying) authority for obvious reasons.

I think the first turning point in the relationship for Loki was:

Loki: I am smart!

Mobius: I know. Loki is rarely left speechless, but his only response to Mobius's simple affirmation was a very un-Loki-like "Okay..." He didn't know how to respond because he wasn't used to that kind of thing, particularly from someone who had power over him. It happened again with:

Loki: A villain.

Mobius: That's not how I see it.

The dynamic between these two people throughout Season 1 was like that. Mobius's genuine love (whether you read it as romantic, platonic, fatherly, brotherly, or a mix of any or all of these) for and non-judgmental acceptance of Loki was apparent from the start, but of course Loki's experiences during his very long lifetime made it nearly impossible for him to trust that until Mobius's actions convinced him that it was real. Learning to trust Mobius also allowed Loki to see himself in a new light.

For his part, Mobius consistently modeled what a good father would have been: loving and accepting, yes, but still able to apply "tough love" when that was warranted. Mobius didn't put Loki into the bad-memory loop to punish him because he was angry (though he was angry, or at least a bit hurt and disappointed). He was just trying to force Loki to acknowledge a truth about himself so that they could move forward — and it worked!

Mobius's instincts and experience as an actual father to two boys, one reasonably well-behaved and the other a mischievous troublemaker, served him well in this, even if he didn't consciously remember his life on the timeline.

Mobius all but confirmed this when he said:

Mobius:  I see a scared little boy, shivering in the cold... 

It's also significant that when Loki brought this up later, he called it "patronizing", which we usually use to mean "condescending", but can also mean "supporting" and has its root in the Latin word "pater" (father).

I see the hug in episode 1-5 as a sign that the reparenting had taken hold, and that Loki, while not completely healed (it would take a lot more than that!), was at least in a place where he could trust someone, accept love/friendship, and think beyond his own wants and needs.

By Season 2, the relationship between the two men was evolving into one of equals, but even then Loki still occasionally looked to Mobius for guidance. Mobius's approval had become important to him. When Loki witnessed the firm but compassionate way in which Don dealt with two boys who were so like himself and Thor (despite being a stressed-out single dad rather than a god-king with tremendous resources at his disposal), he had to have seen that this was at the core of who Mobius was. Moreover, Loki — and any viewers who had similarly survived a traumatic childhood full of emotional abuse and neglect — probably guessed that Don himself was a survivor who was determined to see to it that his boys would never have to deal with that. If that was the case, then Mobius didn't just see his own son in Loki. He saw himself and couldn't help but empathize.

Don wasn't perfect. His frustration with his younger son was very evident, but Loki, observing, could see the love that lay under it. He may even have thought of times when Odin was driven to anger by Loki's actions and realized that the anger didn't necessarily mean that Odin didn't really love him. Learning to forgive what can be forgiven is another aspect of recovering from childhood trauma.

It's worth remembering that Mobius knew Loki in much the same way we do. We got to see the things that Loki never let anybody see: the fear, the vulnerability, the pain, the longing, and the sadness. (Doesn't hurt that TH can turn a simple reaction shot into a freakin' soliloquy!) The difference is that, while we only get to see the highlights (and lowlights) of Loki's life, Mobius had access to all of it and he had centuries to study it.

Mobius literally knew Loki better than anyone else in (or out) of the multiverse. How could he not love him? And for Loki, knowing that somebody who knew him that well genuinely cared so much for him (same with Sylvie, who understood him in ways that only another Loki could and vice-versa) had to have shaken him to his core and made him rethink a lot of things. The fact that it was Mobius to whom Loki turned in episode 2.6 when he thought he might have to kill Sylvie shows how much he still looked up to Mobius in many ways.

This was a show about redemption, yes, but also about healing from childhood trauma. They did an amazing job with it.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki series #loki mcu #reparenting #lokius #mobius #childhood trauma

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 6 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: The relentless rain sidelines your travel. Stopping results in your first confrontation with strangers.

Author’s Notes: Chapter six of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Six: Who We Are

Word count: 3557

A week went by without much development in the trip other than miles traveled and a lot of sudden rain. It was cold enough that Arthur knew snow wasn’t far behind, but it wasn’t here yet, the rain soaking the two of you to the bone instead.

On a particularly cold day when the rain kept starting and stopping, Arthur finally called it and made camp. He pitched the tent up and didn’t even bother with a fire. The rain got going hard enough and it would just put it out anyway.

When the horses were settled and all else seemed to be in order, he joined you in the tent.

“We can stand to wait it out. Been traveling hard the past few days,” he said, more to convince himself that stopping was a good idea.

You didn’t answer, and he looked up to find you laid out in the very back of the tent, eyes still open.

You had been down since yesterday. He couldn’t figure out why. But, then again, he couldn’t figure out a lot of things about you. He just knew he had finally seen some of the old you when you talked about your parents. He tried to bring them up when he could, but he had a feeling you were catching on to that. So instead, he had allowed you to carry the conversation the past few days. It resulted in this.

“You hungry?”

You shook your head. Fair enough. He didn’t always feel like talking either.

Arthur settled as close to the front of the tent as he could without getting rained on, taking watch. There wasn’t much to watch for. He knew there were predators in these woods, likely wolves, but they wouldn’t be out in this rain. Nothing would. So he took out a cigarette and lit it, considering the miles still left to travel. The pair of you weren’t even halfway. Weren’t even out of the mountains yet, the woods still covering up the land. It would flatten out and clear the way soon, but that was still a week away at least.

“Do you have any more bandages?”

He was surprised to hear you ask. He turned, finding you looking at him.

“Yeah. Why? You hurting?”

You nodded. And the pleading look on your face was enough to make Arthur feel pity grow within him, full and bitter. He threw his cigarette out and moved, shedding his gloves as he went.

“You care if I look?”

You hesitated, not meeting his eye a moment before nodding again. He knelt by your side where you were still laid out, moving your layers out of the way. Only, when he tried to pull your bandages apart just enough to see your wound, you winced. He gave you a moment then tried again. You caught his hand this time, pushing it away. “Stop.”

Shit. He was a goddamn fool for not getting a good look at the stitches the last time you had unwrapped them. Now they were likely so swollen or infected or worse that you couldn’t even bear the pressure of his hand.

“If it hurts that bad, we gotta get these off you.”

You met his eye. Then you held out your hand. He didn’t understand until he saw you move it toward his knife. You wanted to cut the bandages yourself.

Arthur sighed but handed you his knife, thinking he needed to get you your own. Three times now you had asked for his. He watched as you carefully sawed apart the outer layer. Once you got it, you moved to the next and the next until you reached one that had you wincing in pain again. You got it separated with the knife, but the cloth caught when you tried to pull it away. You let out a breath so strangled with hurt that Arthur stepped in.

“Here, let me do it.”

“It’ll hurt worse if you-”

“Just trust me.” You didn’t meet his eye but didn’t protest, so he moved in. He pulled the bandage until it caught, reaching under it to see what it was caught on while trying not to hurt you too bad. Finding the source, he cursed.

“What?”

“Ain’t no wonder it hurts. It’s caught on your stitches.”

“Oh.”

He nearly smiled at your lack of comment before taking the knife from your hand. This would hurt. He just hoped the wound was healing, that the pain wasn’t from anything but soreness.

“This’ll hurt, now. I’m gonna cut this off or cut the stitches, whichever gets it loose.”

You just nodded, clenching your jaw. Before you could stop him, Arthur started to cut. He kept as close to your skin as he could so as not to pull, but you still sucked in a breath when he started running the knife back and forth. But in no time, the bandage cut free and he brought it away from you, your wound revealed. Relief washed over him when he saw that it looked normal. Nearly healed over from where your skin had split. Still bruised, still hurt, but better.

“Not bad at all,” he said.

“Really?” You looked down then seemed to regret it, your eyes snapping to the tent top instead.

“Really. I can probably take these out if you want.”

You didn’t answer, so he sat back. He wouldn’t do anything against your will. Not after the time you had looked at him so broken, the words ‘how could you’ still rattling around in his brain.

After a moment of you never taking your eyes off the ceiling, you said, “Do it.” So he moved, setting his hand against your skin to get a better look at where the knot ended, making you wince again.

“I ain’t even cut yet.”

“Your hands are freezing.”

He laughed. “Afraid I can’t do anything about that.”

“Yeah, well,” you shot back, annoyed. He was learning you had a defiant streak in you. And it never failed to make him rein in a smile.

Arthur found the knot and, as gently as possible, slid the knife underneath it. It was too bulky for this kind of work, but he didn’t have any other options. He pulled the knot away from your skin and didn’t warn you before bringing the knife up, severing the line. You sucked in a breath this time but stayed quiet.

“Just gotta pull it out now,” he said. “You’ll be a little tender, but it shouldn’t hurt too bad.”

Sure enough, when he tugged on the string it gave easily, barely catching. That was a good sign in terms of healing. He still watched for any signs of discomfort, and while you gritted your teeth, you let him get it all out from under your skin.

Tossing the string aside, he took a closer look at the wound to see if he needed to do anything else for it. All things considered, it was healing pretty well.

“Looks good,” he said, sitting back. “I should probably wrap it this time, seeing as you ain’t too good at it.”

“I can wrap it fine,” you insisted.

He chuckled. “Sure you can. And how long has it been hurting you exactly? Your bandages being caught on your stitches I mean.”

You wouldn’t answer but kept that defiance all the same.

He couldn’t keep the smile away. He stood. “Let me go get some more off my horse. Be right back.”

The rain beat down on Arthur as he quickly got what he needed, high stepping it back to the tent. The rain was getting worse.

When he ducked back inside, he saw you shedding layers, forgetting momentarily why. He was glad you were turned away, as he was sure you would have noticed the sudden color on his face. He hadn’t quite thought this through.

“Can you hurry this along? It’s cold.”

He cleared his throat and knelt, attempting to think of the task at hand and nothing else. When you were down to nothing but your chemise and pants, pulling the former up to let him get the bandage around you, his mind went blank. He was wholly glad you had your back turned to him. As much as he still wouldn’t be able to see, he didn’t even want to consider how his mind would wander.

He laid the first end down against you, keeping from touching you with his cold hands. “Hold that down.” You did as he asked, and he began winding the cloth around your middle. This really wasn’t very appropriate. He just hadn’t thought about it before insisting like the fool he was. He would do this for anyone back at camp, but you weren’t one of them. He hardly knew you. For what it was worth, you didn’t seem rattled by it. As skittish as you were, you had let him do what he needed to do to help you at every turn. Considering how you treated everyone else, this shouldn’t have been the case. He wanted to ask you why but thought better of it, especially while he ran his arms around you over and over.

He quickly finished and tied off the bandage in the back so it wouldn’t rub against your wound. “There,” he said, backing away and turning, giving you what little privacy he could. He had half a mind to go back out in the rain.

“Thank you,” you said, the rustle of clothes filling the tent.

“Don’t mention it.” To block out the noise, to drown out the thoughts that came with it, Arthur lit another cigarette.

The day passed by terribly slow afterward, the rain never quite letting up. Of course, when Arthur needed to be moving, pushing onward, he was confined to the smallest space he had been in months. Like some caged wild animal. Not so different from you, he realized, though your wildness had tamed slightly since that day at the cliffside. He recalled that day and all he had done, why he had done it. He still didn’t have an answer for that. All he knew was that it had landed him here, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He would normally be much more annoyed, but for some reason it was like any other thing. You were easy to travel with. If it had been Sean or one of the Callander brothers, he would have torn all his hair out by now.

He recalled the rest of that day and realized he had never asked for your name, only offered his own.

“Hey, I just remembered,” he said, turning to find you laid out again, reading your father’s ledger this time. “I never asked you your name all them days ago.”

You met his eye but didn’t say a word.

“You ain’t gonna tell me are you?” he said, his amusement finding his face.

“It’s unimportant,” you said matter-of-factly, going back to reading.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would.”

Arthur chuckled. He was about to push the subject when a crack split the air so loud he jumped. The horses screamed their fright outside, and he was on his feet in seconds, running to them.

He couldn’t find the source of the noise, though he knew it had been a gunshot. It was impossible to tell which direction it had come from. He stayed with the horses, making sure they wouldn’t break their ties as he yelled, “Who’s out there?”

He heard a muttered curse from far off to his left and turned to see movement in the woods a good ways away. Without really thinking, he ran for it.

~

You had never been so grateful to have Arthur along as you were now. You hadn’t been afraid, truly afraid, since the feeling of falling took you over. But as he ran off into the woods in the pouring rain, leaving you behind, you knew fear again. You debated staying in the tent but thought if Arthur got in trouble, you would be a sitting duck. So you moved, the downpour immediately making you shiver when you stepped into it.

You intended to hide but knew that was useless when you saw the tracks you were leaving—bootprints on the muddy ground, already filling up with rainwater. So you changed tracks and went where Arthur had, doing your best to stay quiet. The noise of the water hitting the ground and the trees made it easier.

In moments, you found him as well as two other men, one cowering in front of Arthur and the other knocked out on the ground. Or dead. You didn’t want to give that much thought.

“We was just out hunting, I swear!” the stranger yelled.

“Nah, I know that ain’t right, not in this rain. You better tell me the truth right now or risk ending up like your friend there.”

Arthur stepped in closer and the man stepped back, intimidated by Arthur’s anger. Or maybe by whatever he had done to his friend.

You knew the stranger was going to bolt the second before he did, but it was too late to warn Arthur by the time he turned and ran.

“You little-” Arthur went after him, surprisingly quick. You watched them go, taking a moment before approaching the man on the ground. You checked for a pulse. He was still alive.

Just as you breathed a sigh of relief, Arthur must have caught up to the other man. You heard him yell, “You tell me what you were doing shooting at us or I’ll kill you right here.”

God above. You had never seen this side of Arthur. How much did you really know about him?

“Wait,” you breathed before realizing he couldn’t hear you from here. You sprinted for them.

When you stepped into the next clearing, the rain so loud they didn’t notice your presence, the stranger broke. “All right! Don’t! It…it usually works.”

“What’s works?” Arthur snarled, holding the smaller man by his coat so he couldn’t run again.

“We was…we usually go out robbing in these parts. Takes a single gunshot to scare most folk off. We saw your horses and your tent and…”

“I ain’t most folk. And you’re lucky I don’t kill you for it.” Just as he said it, you moved into Arthur’s line of sight. His pulled his sidearm as quick as his head snapped up, thinking you a threat before he realized who it was.

“Please, we wasn’t shooting at you mister! Just meant to scare you!”

Arthur’s attention returned to the man at this, and you were glad it did. He was deadly. You didn’t want any of that attention turned on you. Arthur holstered his gun and gave the stranger a violent jolt, teeth bared in anger. The wrath crossing his face…you would have to remember that. You never wanted to be on the other side of something so dangerous.

“Get out of here,” Arthur growled. He threw him backward, making him hit the ground. “Get out of here now and I won’t kill you. And your friend too!”

“How am I supposed to- you knocked him out!”

Arthur stalked over, every bit as intimidating as his size implied. In fact, you had never realized just how big Arthur was until now.

“Okay, okay!” the man cried, scrambling backward. He turned and started running back for his friend, finally noticing you. But he didn’t give you more than a glance before he was sprinting away, doing his utmost to get away from Arthur.

When you turned to look at the man you thought you knew, he was already storming back for camp, refusing to meet your eye.

“Let me make sure they don’t double back and rob us blind,” he mumbled.

“Arthur,” you said, catching his arm as he passed. He stopped and met your eye. “Would you really have killed him?”

He shook out of your grip and kept walking without a word. And you were left debating every interaction, that caravan of people he traveled with, everything.

Once you were both back, the two strangers firmly gone, you eyed Arthur as he went through his things in the rain still pouring down. Your gaze was likely boring into his back by the way he shot you a glance over his shoulder, giving an annoyed sigh.

“Go ahead and ask it then.”

You didn’t know how. But you had to. “What do you…do for a living?” you said over the rain. What a simple way of putting it. But the reason behind his timidness when he had asked about your father’s profession suddenly made sense.

He stopped what he was doing and faced you. “Does it matter?”

You didn’t respond. Of course it did. Didn’t it? If he was what you highly suspected, would you still let him lead you to Nebraska?

“Look,” he said. “I ain’t a good man. Far from it if that’s what you was hoping.”

That was the thing though—as bad as he claimed to be, he had saved you. He had taken you all this way. Who was to say just what he was?

“You…” You eyed the gun at his hip, thinking of how quickly he had drawn it. “Are you an outlaw? A killer?”

Straight-faced, without hesitating, “I am.”

So where the hell did that leave you? He could have killed you by now. You were putting two and two together that his first instinct had been to rob your wagon, not check for signs of life.

Arthur held your eye, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for you to tell him to get lost. But your fear and your trauma worked in strange ways, and instead of worrying about the danger he posed, you were suddenly wondering how the interaction with those two men would have gone had he not been there. You could have easily been robbed or killed. Yet Arthur had had every opportunity to do the same but chose to protect you from the first day. Why?

“Why are you doing this?” The question was so small he asked you to repeat it. “You, taking me all this way. Why did you agree to it?”

“Why’d you ask me to?” he fired right back. “You could have had any manner of better folk take you.”

True, but you hadn’t known his true colors at the time. But you thought you had, and you suddenly recalled why.

“Because you buried them.”

Something changed in Arthur’s expression. Something like shame as he looked to his boots. He didn’t reply, and it made you understand him even less. Was he ashamed of being the one to bury them? Did he regret it?

“I never…” you said, stepping forward. “I never properly thanked you for that. They would have laid there forever if it weren’t for you.”

He just shook his head, the rain sloughing off his hat left and right as he did.

“I mean it,” you said. It was an important thing. You needed him to understand how much. Needed him not to feel ashamed or whatever it was he was feeling. “Outlaw or not. It was kind.” And as he met your eye with a softness in his own, you knew you wouldn’t be able to ask him to leave. Through everything, he had been kind. He may have been a murderer, but he had been the one to put you back together again when the only other path for you had been death. That had to be good for something.

When Arthur only turned, beginning to dig through his saddle bag again, you approached him. You laid a hand on his arm to get him to stop and look at you.

“Whatever it is you are,” you said, “I’d still like you to take me. No one else would understand.”

He scoffed with a smirk, going back to what he was doing. “Then you’re an even bigger fool than I am.”

Maybe. Or maybe you were smarter, getting someone so deadly to agree to being your protector. Either way, you realized you couldn’t do it without him. You would have given up a long time ago had he not been there to push you at every turn. You might still. You needed him.

“Anyway, you never told me your name before we got so rudely interrupted,” he said, turning to you with a hand propped on his horse’s saddle. He was still smirking, and something about it made you lose all seriousness. Your name could wait. It was the only thing you had left of that empty past life anyway.

“Maybe we were so rudely interrupted because you asked it,” you said, teasing him. It was the first time you had the energy to do so. He laughed for it, shaking his head again as he rounded you.

“Fine. I’ll get it out of you eventually.” You doubted that.

He made for the tent to escape the rain. It was no use now. Your clothes, the horses, the world, it was all soaked through. And you stayed there watching it, wondering at the circumstances you had landed yourself in. Grieving, drenched, and led by an outlaw—it was all better than dead.

_________

Chapter seven is here.

tag list: @tommys0not0beloved @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

[eiirisworkshop]

I want to post something, but I don't have anything finished, so you get a sneak peak at the sequel to my Star Trek fic, Chiaroscuro. Enjoy!

~

Admiral Fitzgerald sighed and ran a hand over his face. “If I promise you you'll get another ship, will you take the damn promotion?”

Kirk crossed his arms. “If I can get that promise in writing from all the top brass, sure.”

“I'll see if I can swing that.” The Admiral pinched the bridge of his nose. “You're impossible, Kirk, I hope you know that. And you get away with more than you should, because, unfortunately, you really are that good.” He folded his hands on the desk. “What was it the two of you wanted to see me about, anyway?”

Kirk looked sidelong at Spock.

“We have a question, or rather a requirement, regarding our respective next assignments, for logistical reasons,” Spock said coolly.

“More demands,” Fitzgerald snorted. “What's this requirement of yours?”

“Nothing huge,” Kirk assured him. “It's just, wherever we're posted, if we're going to be there for four years or longer, we need to either be assigned together, or within a day or two's travel from one another.”

“Together would be preferable,” Spock added. “Simpler.”

“Uhhuh.” Fitzgerald looked unimpressed. “Why?”

“Well, um….” Kirk looked to Spock again.

Spock was staring fixedly at a book on the shelf behind the Admiral. “Certain circumstances arose over the course of our recent mission that resulted in the establishment of a particular kind of psyonic link between myself and the Captain. The phenomenon is extraordinarily common among Vulcans, but rare with members of other species. It was unavoidable, but it does now mean that the two of us must have at least periodic access to one another.”

“Or else what?”

“It would be fatal,” Spock said simply.

Fitzgerald nodded slowly and leaned on one elbow towards Kirk. “Does this, by any chance, have something to do with that detour you took the Enterprise to Vulcan a few years ago?”

“Short answer: yes,” Kirk said carefully.

“Well,” Fitzgerald leaned back in his chair, “I happen know that Commander Spock's next assignment is a four year teaching stint here at the Academy, and Captain, there's some fighting over you but it's looking like you'll be spending those four years behind a desk in one department or another, and unless Wyoming or Luna make particularly convincing cases for needing you before the ceremony Friday, it's looking like you'll be either here or in L.A. I figure that's easy enough travel.”

“Yes sir,” Kirk said along with Spock, biting back the urge to point out that the Admiral could have just told them they would be posted near each other anyway.

“If that's everything, I do believe you've already been given your accommodation assignments,” Fitzgerald said. “It's late, you've had a long day, and I know it can be rough to readjust to living by an actual day/night cycle again.”

“One more thing about that, actually,” Kirk said quickly.

“Captain,” Spock warned lowly.

“I was hoping one or both of us could be reassigned,” Kirk continued, ignoring the man who was no longer his First Officer. “So we're not on opposite ends of campus, at least. If there's not a good way to do that, I know the flats over at the north end of Academy housing are never full, that would work too.”

“Jim,” Spock warned again.

The Admiral looked back and forth between the two of them and tilted his head curiously. “Is this whole psyonic link business some kind of sex thing?”

“I do not believe that question is appropriate, Admiral,” Spock bit with a stern, cold evenness that almost came across as polite.

“Maybe not, but I think it's warranted. Kirk, you know those flats are family housing. They're for married couples and parents with kids. So unless the two of you are planning on getting hitched—”

“By Vulcan standards I'm pretty sure we already are!” Kirk exclaimed.

“Jim.”

“What? We are, aren't we?”

“Yes,” Spock confirmed, “but I do not appreciate your disclosing that without consulting me.”

“Well, hell,” Fitzgerald sighed. “Kirk, half the ladies in Starfleet are going to be heartbroken.”

“I don't think that comment was appropriate, either, Admiral,” Kirk said.

Fitzgerald shrugged. “You're the one who just told your boss you shacked up with your XO without clearing it with him first. Look, do you have some kind of documentation? A Vulcan marriage certificate, if there is such a thing?”

“There is, but we do not,” Spock said.

“Then there's nothing I can do for you. I couldn't get anything changed for you tonight, regardless. Go get some rest. You're both dismissed.”

Spock nodded once, turned on his heel, and strode out. Kirk followed with a tight “Yes, sir,” to the Admiral.

Despite the hour, there were still plenty of people coming and going in the halls—Starfleet never really slept—but Kirk and Spock did manage to get an elevator to themselves. Kirk punched the button for the lobby and the doors closed.

“You should have conferred with me,” Spock said to his reflection in the polished metal door.

“You're right, I should have, I'm sorry.” Kirk deflated against the elevator wall. He was exhausted. And starving.

“How and when to inform Starfleet of our relationship was not your call to make unilaterally.”

“They were going to find out sooner or later, and we were already halfway to telling Fitzgerald, but you're right, and I'm sorry.” He took a breath and shoved away from the wall as they neared their floor. “I'll grovel, I'll walk you through my thought process back there, whatever you want from me, but can we do it over food? I haven't eaten anything since the cheese and fruit and crackers at that third press conference.”

Spock's gaze slid over to him, carefully—ominously—blank. After a breath he dipped his head in acquiescence. The door dinged open and they stepped out.

“I recommend both,” Spock said as they walked through the lobby.

#eiiri made this #fanfic #star trek tos #star trek #sneak peek #spirk #k/s #james t kirk #s'chn t'gai spock

[tiktowafel]

Headcanons for Neito Monoma?

yup here you go! tagging @fabpops1 because she also asked for Monoma headcanons

no coloring today because the one i made two years ago sucks and i don't feel like remaking it :'D honestly i feel like Horikoshi and I both half-assed his casual clothing sketch lol

him and his parents were all born in Japan but he has some relatives in Belgium, whom he really enjoys visiting. it's the main reason why he seems so interested in european culture (his profile page states he likes french cuisine and franco-belgian comics)

he can also speak french very well thanks to that

he's also fluent in english (though he has trouble understanding Pony sometimes - he's much better at reading and writing than he is at listening) and has a basic knowledge of several other languages. he doesn't really expect it to come handy at any point in the future, he just learns them because he finds it fun

besides that he also likes history, classic literature, theatre... yeah this guy is a huge humanities-leaning nerd and i don't accept criticism

nor do i accept the fact that he's supposed to be a bad student in canon?? like, he's so smart and also competitive, no way he isn't top of the class... he may not be as good in science and math as he is in japanese and history, but nothing an all-nighter can't fix

in middle school he was part of the drama and debate clubs. and while hero course students aren't supposed to join clubs because they should focus on hero work, he managed to argue his way into the same clubs in UA by saying that his theatrics and speeches are an important part of his hero persona. Kuroiro joined the drama club alongside him (didn't contribute to the argument at all, just nodded wisely every time Monoma presented a point)

class 1-B's culture festival performance being a stage play was actually his idea! it didn't really go the way he intended (he did NOT expect it to turn into a four-way crossover more ambitious than infinity war) but he greatly enjoyed performing in it anyway! maybe even too much

his knowledge of quirks rivals Midoriya's. he researches them a lot mostly to help his copy quirk but also out of genuine curiosity

he often helps his classmates with training their quirks and comes up with new techniques to try out. he's particularly good at it because he can actually try other people's quirks himself, which gives him a better understanding of how they function and what their limitations are

^ which is why i believe he'd make an awesome hero course teacher!! (in all might's role - i don't think making him anyone's homeroom teacher would be a good idea, he'd be just as biased towards his class as he is now lmao) it's definitely one of my favorite "future" headcanons

he praises his classmates' quirks a lot and says he considers them all great, but he does have preferences when it comes to copying them

his favorites are Yanagi's poltergeist (somewhat boring, but easy to understand and very versatile both in battle and everyday life), Tokage's lizard tail splitter (he almost died when he copied it for the first time because he barely managed to put his body back together before his quirk's time limit ran out, but that didn't stop him - he always found Tokage's quirk very fun and useful, so he put a lot of work into fully figuring it out and now he uses it pretty often), Shoda's twin impact (Monoma's physical strength.... leaves a lot to be desired, and the second impact always being significantly stronger than the first helps make up for it) and Kuroiro's black (you can move around very fast and it's fun :) )

quirks he does not like copying Honenuki's softening (fun, but quite difficult to control and avoiding collateral damage with such a destructive quirk is a pain in the ass. Honenuki understands that perfectly) and Shishida's beast (just... really not his thing lol)

for some reason i see a lot of people headcanon that he has pet ferrets, and you know what? i agree. he does seem like a ferret person

prefers smart clothing, a polo shirt is the most casual he'll go. he only ever wears tshirts for exercise (which he hates doing lol) and probably doesn't own a single hoodie

in general i think he has a good eye for elegant design... his dorm room is very stylish and nicely coordinated too. i think one of the light novels also describes it as "vaguely french" and yeah that fits

while he tries to keep his room neat and tidy on the outside, all his drawers and cabinets are horribly messy

he's that one kid who has like 17 different allergies and is completely useless if he forgets his meds on a spring day (spring is his least favorite season due to this. i think winter would be his fave)

luckily he is not allergic to dairy so he can eat as much stinky french cheese as he wants 👍

speaking of food i think he's a pretty good cook actually

prefers listening to older (and mostly foreign) music and is a huge snob about it

honestly he probably acts the same about movies and books too

arguing with people on the internet is one of his favorite ways to spend his free time. if there are no 1-A students around, you can always show off your impressive vocabulary by bullying random internet strangers with bad taste in movies!

almost everyone in 1-B considers him a friend despite his... anti-1a bullshit, because he's just really nice and helpful to people he likes + he's a great leader! however he's closest to Kuroiro (friendly drama king rivals! they're constantly arguing about dumb shit using the fanciest words they can think of and they're always trying to outperform each other in the drama club meetings they both attend, but they love each other trust me <3 also Monoma helps Kuroiro with studying because he sucks at school), Pony (when he's not trying to trick her into insulting 1-A he can be pretty helpful with japanese, he also likes listening to her talk about her home country), Honenuki (he's Pony's best friend, so you usually befriend them both at once, but Monoma thinks he's also interesting to talk to by himself) and Tetsutetsu (they don't share many interests but Monoma hates exercising so he has Tetsutetsu force him to do it. his positive energy certainly helps a lot)

ever since they got to know each other during their joint training fight, Monoma's been using 100% of his persuasion skills to convince Shinso to join 1-B instead of 1-A. Shinso is conflicted to say the least

aaand that's all i have for him! hope you enjoyed these!!

#most of these are really “casual” #but i think the more serious parts of his character are actually really well developed in canon (bless hori for that) #so i dont really have much to add haha #anyway thanks for the ask and sorry that it took so long #bnha #class 1b #neito monoma #monoma neito #tikto's headcanons #bnha headcanons

[asmrbrainrot]

Alrighty, so I recently received a DM requesting 🌈 for Killian and Bodie! (Y’all can leave your asks in the ask box now that that’s fixed lol)

Let’s get to it~!

Killian: So Im sure this has no basis in the actual canon like…at all, (what are headcanons for amIright?) but I just get the feeling this dude does NOT do well in hand to hand combat. Like AT ALL. Don’t get me wrong, he’d mop the floor with any sorry sucker that wanted to challenge him in a magic duel, but if it was ONLY fisticuffs bro wouldn’t have a shot. Despite the tireless efforts of his parents, siblings, and teachers, Killi just isn’t good at physical combat. Which tbh I think would be really funny if he was preparing some big elaborate spell and then proceeded to get cold cocked right in the middle of it. 😆

Bodie: Ngl I got so exited when I saw my main mans in the DMs. Words cannot express how much I wanna bearhug this guy. Anyways I recently had an idea that was so in character for him I just couldn’t get it out of my head. Whenever Bodie finds a particularly cool rock he thinks Timmy might like he’ll hide it in plain sight for Timmy to “find” later. He’s been doing this since he took Timmy in and to his knowledge Timmy hasn’t caught on. Only, Timmy figured it out when he was in his early tween/teen years, he just didn’t have the heart to tell Bodie since it was such a thoughtful gesture.

#obsidian lantern #gator boys #siren son asmr #asmr roleplay #asmr #answered asks #asks open #ask prompt #gator boys belongs to obsidian lantern #love them #not my characters #bodie #timmy

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Silver Bullet

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,670 Masterlist

Summary: The best night of the year, Halloween, turns into a night you just want to forget. PART 1/4.

Warnings: werewolves, cheating, backstabbing best friend, Zemo is a whore, truly.

Red cloaks filled the crowd. This years Halloween parade theme being Dracula. Rob Zombie blared through speakers anchored to lampposts. You and your friends all wore matching costumes, collectively going as the wives of Dracula. It was a good excuse to wear the hottest outfits you could find. Most people paled their skin with white face paint, and molded little pieces of wax to their teeth.

Not you, you wore basically nothing for your costume. Each friend had a different color of fabric, that was loosely draped and cinched around your body. The best way to describe it would be a Greek toga, instead of linen it’s sheer silk, leaving nothing to the imagination. You all wore the same gold collar, a dragon etched on the front; curtesy of the blue bride, Miranda’s, 3D printer.

You didn’t plan on staying, you all agreed to be a part of the parade, once that was over, you were all headed to Zemo’s annual Halloween masquerade. You don’t think he particularly liked having hundreds of people flooding his property every year. But having the biggest house in town was a blessing and a curse. He hosted most festivities for your rather large population of teens and young adults.

You had a fascination with the bachelor. He inherited the mansion, land and money from his grandfather, skipping over his father completely. His family was prominent in the community, both of his parents having a chair at city hall. They volunteered at the food bank and donated to every shelter. Any sane person would think they deserved the money in a way. So why Zemo?

You made it to the party late, everyone leaving the house for the back yard. Zemo had the trees lighted and a dance floor built, always prepared for a celebration. Your friends ditched you as soon as you all got drinks, saying they were going to find their boyfriends. Leaving you to explore the surrounding woods alone.

You nearly drop your red solo cup when you see Zemo pressing Miranda against a tree, practically swallowing each others faces. Tears of betrayal sting your cheeks. She knew you had a crush on him, and she has a boyfriend anyways. You stalk away in anger, losing the trail but not caring. You found a tree far enough from the party that no one would hear your sobs.

You downed the cup filled halfway with vodka, a drop of orange juice for flavor. It dried your tears quickly, leaving your whole body warm. “Stupid.” You say, standing up and brushing the leaves off your dress. “Stupid for liking Zemo.”. You agreed whole heartedly with that. “Stupid for thinking Miranda was my friend.” That’s what hurt the most.

In the midst of your self hate you failed to notice a looming figure. “You’re not stupid.” You jolt, throwing the plastic cup in the direction of the stranger. “Sorry, you scared me.” You giggle, when you see it’s just a guy from the party wearing a phantom of the opera mask.

“It’s okay.” He reaches down and picks up the liter. “Gotta keep our forests clean.” He waves the red in the air. You give him a dry laugh. Men are scary and being alone in the woods with a stranger was causing every alarm in your brain to siren. But the vodka numbed your sense of fear.

“I should get going.” You say, turning and trying to step around the tree. Before you could, the stranger steps closer. “Should you?” He says deeply. He’s close enough now that you can see his piercing blue eyes behind the mask. They render you speechless, the way the moonlight shone off them, put you in a trance. You shake your head, too focused to verbally answer him.

“See, you’re not so stupid after all.” He teases. You have no reaction. His words didn’t fill you with pride or embarrassment. Your veins filled with the distinct warmth of feeling safe. You don’t know where it came from, your body was irrationally reacting to him. You should be shaking with fear and trying to get back to the party, not calmly standing here waiting for something to happen.

It felt like you were locked inside a body that wasn’t yours. It was being controlled by some outside force. You let him reach for you, never flinching away. Your body produced goosebumps where his fingertips grazed your skin. “You’re so beautiful. I’d hate to ruin that.” You nod your head, not even thinking of a single way he could ruin your beauty. Your mind was blank, you couldn’t even say thank you.

“Promise me you won’t resist, once it happens.” You knew nothing of what he spoke, but again you feel your neck bow to him, nodding in agreement. The masked man looks up at the moon, reveling in its fullness. “Are you prepared for no return?” You agree with a nod, now you know you were fully possessed by something. His words should send you running, but a small voice in the back of your head says you would never.

He steps closer again, grabbing fistfuls of your gown, cinched at your waist. “You have to say it. Say I have permission.” His voice was desperate and darker than before. You try to find the words but the influence he had on you was slowly fading, the way he started pressing you against the tree brought you back to your senses. He holds your hips in place as he nuzzles his face into your neck, taking a long deep breath.

The stubble on his chin tickled you and you had to remind yourself yet again that this is a masked stranger in the woods. Even though your senses were coming back, the way his hands lit a fire inside of you was enough to make you not care. That fire pooled lower and lower the closer he got to you. He smelled like a mix of musk and pine. You couldn’t tell if it was him or the trees surrounding you. But it made your mouth water, filling you with a want to taste his skin, just to be sure.

He raises his hand to cradle your cheek, “Please.”. He caught your eyes again, boring into them with an assured look. He focuses on your lips “Just say the words.”.

“I give you permission.” You say them without thinking of the consequences. He sealed your fate by closing the gap between your faces. Pressing his lips to yours. You moved your lips in sync with his, using your free will to wrap your arms around his neck. Before it could go any further the man disappeared. You felt him pull away, when your eyes opened to see why, he was already gone. You searched the surrounding woods with your eyes, there was no sign of him.

You grab your head, wondering if you drunkenly hallucinated. The moisture on your mouth and in your underwear was foolproof evidence that it really just happened. But you still began to question its validity.

You hear a twig snap somewhere near you, in hopes that it was the magnetic stranger you followed it, rounding an old fallen tree you spot a black dog. It was rather large in stature, must be a purebred if it’s that big. You knew an expensive dog wouldn’t be wandering the woods collarless. And you couldn’t remember if Zemo ever mentioned having any pets.

You stepped closer, never fearing animals. You loved dogs, you had a few of your own at your parents house. “Here boy.” You kneel down, reaching out your hand. It finally gives you its attention. Immediately showing his sharp canines, snarling loudly. “Oop.” You stand up and slowly back away, knowing the signs of an agitated dog.

When your view of it is blocked by the tree you turn around and sprint away. Not wanting to receive a rabies shot on Halloween night. You see the lighted trees nearing. That’s when you heard it, rhythmic thumbing coming from behind you. When you turn around you let out a scream, the dog is already pouncing on you, knocking you to the ground. You tray to scramble away. You see people’s feet running towards your screams.

The dog latches its mouth onto your leg, when you try to rip it away it only sinks its teeth deeper. You see Zemo come to your aid with a pool cleaner net, swinging it at the dog. “Get away.” He shouts, he ends up cracking the dog on top of his head with the plastic pole. It yelped, causing your leg to fall out of his mouth. He ran for cover, disappearing into the woods. Zemo drops to his knees beside you, shedding his jacket to wrap it around your bleeding leg.

“Are you okay?” Your eyes full with tears, embarrassment was an understatement. You didn’t want to face Zemo or Miranda. You didn’t want to see all the party goers pity filled faces either. You stood up, sucking a breath between your teeth at the pain. You limped past everyone giving eachother confused glances. Ignoring Zemo and Miranda’s fake concern.

You called your dad, sitting on the curb infront of the house. He rushed you to urgent care, spending the rest of the night with you in the waiting room. You were fine in the morning, a shot and a round of antibiotics set you on your way to recovering. You took ibuprofen for the pain. You called off of work for the rest of the week, needing to stay off your feet.

When you returned the next Monday, your boss told you there was a new bus boy. You waited tables all day before you finally saw him. Clocking in and disappearing to wash dishes. He was cute, dark brown hair and light stubble. He didn’t introduce himself to you or Mary, the other waitress, odd. But you had a feeling the little diner would grow on him eventually.

#avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #mcu #avengers #fanfic #bucky x y/n #fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #werewolf bucky barnes #werewolves #werewolf!au #werewolf!bucky #monster!au #monster hunter #helmut zemo #zemo x reader