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forays-into-fiction · 2 years

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My Little Eddie Teddy

Not sure if there’s really an audience for this one, fix-it fic kind of I guess and probably a very unpopular pairing, but I want to explore more of a family dynamic with this rather than anything explicit/romantic. The Munson boys just need a bit more love and care in their lives, ok… cause my heart breaks for them... but let me break them some more first lol. I debated doing this as an OC but ultimately decided against it. All hurt no comfort, well maybe a little bit of comfort at the end.

Nephew!Eddie & Aunt!Reader, Wayne Munson x Reader. No smut/explicit content in this one, just grief and trauma and heartbreak.

Edward Theodore Munson was your nephew. Well, sort of, you’d been dating his uncle Wayne for the past three years when his parents foisted him off onto the pair of you. He was five now. His parents had flitted in and out of your lives as they pleased, on and off throughout the years, never quite finding it in themselves to stick around. Wayne was nothing like his brother, you thanked your lucky stars for that. You loved Eddie like the son you never had, he was your little Eddie Teddy, as you had grown fond of calling him. And you were his Teetee, he’d had problems early on pronouncing the word ‘Auntie’. At first it came out as Teetee and it stuck.

“Wayne, we gotta talk.” You say pulling him aside.

“What you gonna leave me? You finally get sick of me?” He jokes nervously.

“No, nothing like that.” You rush to reassure him, but then pause for a moment, “Well…”

“Oh god you are leaving me. Why? What was it? What did I do?” His eyes search your own, panicstricken.

“It’s nothing you did.” You place a hand on his shoulder, “I uh, I was offered a job in the city. I’m moving out there in a couple of weeks. I found a place for all of us, I want you and Eddie to come with me.” You say hopefully.

“I can’t.” Wayne hangs his head. “We can’t, I’ve got work, Eddie is just about to start school. It won’t work.”

“Why not, it’s perfect we can find him a school out there, you can find a new job. Something with better hours, better pay too hopefully. We can make it work.”

“I can’t.” He repeats crestfallen.

“Ok, well then maybe I can commute. A lot of people do that.”

“Y/n it’s almost two hours one way, that’s no way to live, by the time you get home you won’t even have time for us anyway. You know my hours are shit as it is. No I won’t let you do that. An’ I won’t let you pass up on this opportunity.”

“So… what does that mean for us then? We can’t just be done. I love you. I love Eddie. You are my family.”

“I don’t know what to say, y/n.”

“Say you’ll try, say we’ll make it work, whatever it takes.” Desperation creeping into your voice.

“I won’t lie to you. We… we have to end it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I love you too, but we can’t. It won’t work.” He sheds a tear.

“Will I still be able to see you? Keep in touch?”

“That’d just hurt too much… for both of us.”

“What about Eddie, can I visit him? What do we tell him?”

“It’ll just confuse him, you can’t see him anymore either.” He says definitively.

“What, more than me just up and disappearing one day? No. No I won’t do that to him.”

“He’ll adjust and it’s not your decision to make. We tell him the truth, that you’re leaving and he can never see you again.”

“Please don’t do this.” You beg him tears streaming down your cheeks.

“It’s what has to be done, y/n.” He finishes gruffly, you can see his walls slamming into place, shutting you out firmly.

“No!” You hear the small wail from behind you. Suddenly a tiny lump is latching itself to your leg.

“Don’t go!” He pleads, “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Oh, buddy it’s not your fault.” You ruffle his little mop of curls.

He looks up at you teary eyed, bottom lip quivering, “Why… hic.. Why are you leaving?”

Every word is like another knife to your heart, “Things aren’t working with your uncle and me. I got a new job remember and I gotta go there to work. It’s no one’s fault, sometimes these things just happen.”

“Why does everyone leave me?” He sobs.

His words cut right through you, you don’t know when it started but you could feel hot tears burning your eyes, maybe you’d been crying this whole time. You kneel down beside him, scooping him into a hug.

“This doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore, you will always be my Eddie Teddy, ok?”

You pull back a moment, untying the black bandana wrapped around your wrist. You twist it up and tie it around his head, it pushes his curls off his forehead. “You keep that safe for me ok? And every time you look at it you can remember your Teetee.”

He’s squirming and pulling away from your grip, “Let me go!” He yells angrily.

“Listen,” you implore holding on to his tiny wrist as he wriggles out of your embrace, “Listen, if you need anything I will always be here for you. You just have to come find me.”

He rips the bandana off his head, throwing it into the dirt and stomping his little foot, “YOU SAID YOU WOULD NEVER LEAVE ME! YOU SAID WE WERE FAMILY! I HATE YOU!“ He screams wrenching his arm from yours as he runs back to the trailer.

You look over to see Wayne standing in the doorway arms crossed, you make eye contact and hesitate a moment before turning to collect your bags and heading to your car.

Wayne pushes off the door jamb with his body, uncrossing his arms and walking over to the discarded bandana stopping to pick it up and brushing the dirt off it. He gives one final glance to your retreating form, tears welling in his eyes, before turning back and returning to his home.

You load up your bags and enter the driver’s seat, that’s when the tears really hit you, the body wracking, gut wrenching sobs. You place your hands over the wheel and rest your head against them. When you’re all cried out you start the car reluctantly, leaving their lives for good, for all you knew.

Dustin cradles Eddie in his arms as he lies there spluttering through his own blood. As he loses consciousness, Dustin hears the sound of feet slapping on the concrete.

“STEVE!” He shouts, “You have to help him, we have to help him.” He looks up at Steve teary eyed, begging.

Steve drops to his knees beside the pair, he strips the vest off of Eddie’s body and tears his shirt in two pulling that off as well. He continues to tear the shirt into scraps of fabric and begins bandaging the wounds. Once done he hoists Eddie’s limp form over his shoulder, dragging him back to the trailer where Robin and Nancy wait, Dustin trailing behind him. The group enters the trailer and Steve lays Eddie on top of the stained mattress to position a chair beneath the gate, he clambers on top of it and pulls himself through to the other side, flipping himself to land on his feet. He scrambles to shift the couch giving the others a softer landing before climbing on top of it and calling up through the hole in the ceiling, “Guys, I need you to grab those sheets and tie them around Eddie, bring him over then as careful as you can one of you climb on the chair and one support him and pass the sheets through the gate.”

Robin and Nancy jump to action doing as asked, grabbing the ends of the sheet Steve tugs Eddie through the opening cushioning his fall as he topples through.

The girls help Dustin back through before following themselves.

“Car. Now.” Steve instructs, tossing the keys to Nancy as he lifts Eddie’s frame.

They all pile in and race to the hospital.

Dustin enters the waiting room on crutches, leg bandaged up. Steve rushes over to him, “Are you ok?” He puts his hands on the boy’s shoulders surveying him.

“‘M fine, it’s just a sprain, get off. Where is he? I need to see him.” He demands.

“They’ve taken him for surgery… but they’re not going to let you see him. They’ve called the police. They’re going to arrest him for Chrissy’s murder, among others. No visitors.”

The crutches fall to the ground with a clatter as he leans in to Steve, wrapping his arms around him sobbing into his chest, Steve embraces him comfortingly.

Despite not being allowed to see him, Dustin insisted that they stay and wait for news on Eddie. Steve remains by his side. The emergency room is thrown into chaos as another patient is brought in.

“Erica, what’re you doing here… Lucas what’s going on?” Dustin shouts, hobbling over to them.

Lucas stares off into the distance, unresponsive. Erica answers for the pair of them, “It’s Max… Vecna, Vecna got her. Then the quakes started. She’s alive, only just. I don’t know how but… but they’re taking her in now.”

Eddie comes to with a groan of pain, he goes to rub his head but his hand catches on something. Looking down at his wrist he finds he’s handcuffed to the bed railing. He surveys his surroundings, taking in the blinking monitors and beeping machines. He jangles the cuff around his wrist, “Ugh, here we go.” He grumbles.

He dislocates his thumb with a wince. All those times in the back of Hopper’s Blazer, in lock up, being a smartass little brat paid off as he recalls slipping out of his cuffs time after time to show them off, dangling from a finger with a smug grin, much to the Sheriff’s annoyance.

He slips his hand out, popping his thumb back into place, rubbing at the joint and his wrist. He searches the room, every surface, every cupboard, “Clothes, clothes, what did they do with my clothes?” He mumbles under his breath. “Shit.” He breathes out in frustration.

He moves to peek through the window to his room, cautiously popping his head up. He catches sight of a police officer dozing on a chair beside the door. He tests the door handle to find it gives, twisting it carefully he opens the door slowly. Creeping past the officer in a crouch he takes off down a corridor, careful not to be spotted. He makes it to the fire escape, opening the door to the staircase he darts inside, guiding the door shut quietly.

He breathes a sigh of relief, pressing himself against the wall for a moment before starting down the stairs. He makes it out to the side of the building shrouded in darkness in nothing but his hospital gown. He takes off again down the street sticking to the shadows, careful not to be seen. As he nears the residential areas he hops a fence with some difficulty and spies some washing hanging on a line. He grabs an assortment of clothes, pants, shirt, a hoodie, pulling them on while he goes and drawing the hood down over his face.

It’s a miracle he’s managed to make it all the way to the trailer park without having been spotted by anyone. He thanks whichever god above is responsible for his luck tonight, until he gets close enough to see the wreckage of his home. He picks through the rubble, tears pricking his eyes as he thinks what may have happened to his uncle. He tries not to dwell on those thoughts as he pulls out a rucksack and shuffles through the debris to find any items of use. He pulls together a pile of ratty, dusty clothes, his black metal lunchbox packed with money and his ‘product’, a few cassettes that managed to survive and a couple of photos one more recent, him and his uncle at a concert, the other was one he had secreted away. You and his uncle and him, taken on his fourth or fifth birthday, he looks down at them fondly before stuffing them in his bag and setting off on foot.

A crowd had gathered in front of the hospital, that was supposedly caring for the infamous Eddie Munson.

“Let us through!”

“Yeah, why are you helping that murderer?!”

“Burn the freak!”

“Quiet everyone,” hospital security urges, “unfortunately due to complications in surgery Mr. Munson has passed away. No one will be entering the building, unless it is a medical emergency.”

A man pushes through the crowd, “Where’s my nephew? What did they do to him? You bring me my nephew right now!” He growls.

“Sir please calm down, let me contact my college.” the guard attempts to placate him, leading him away from the angry mob. He speaks into the walkie that was clipped to his belt in hushed tones before turning back to the man.

“They’re saying that they’ve already cremated him.”

Wayne Munson’s face drops in anguish, his body gives way and he’s crumpling into a heap on the ground, sobbing into his hands. The guard leans down, hooking his arms beneath Wayne’s and lifts him to his feet. “Come on. Come inside we’ll sort this out.” He adds sympathetically.

Wayne follows along numbly, being guided by his arm.

They’ve looped him round and round the entire hospital, no one is giving him a straight answer. No one can tell him exactly what happened. When finally, he is palmed off to yet another nurse he’s had enough, “Can I just have my boys ashes?” He asks defeatedly.

“Of course, sir. Let me just… check on that for you.” She steps away into another room, making a phone call in hurried, hushed tones.

She returns, apprehensively approaching him, “It’ll just be a moment longer and you can collect your son’s remains.”

He doesn’t bother to correct her, in all intents and purposes, Eddie was his son.

He doesn’t know how long he’s sat in that, chair knee bouncing anxiously. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, he’s numb to the world, but then someone emerges carrying a cardboard box and calling his name.

“Mr. Munson I need you to sign some documents before I can release your son’s remains to you.”

He nods, reaching for the pen he’s offered, signing everything put before him blindly.

“There was… there was a bandana. He always had it, never went anywhere without it. Where is it?” He asks voice hoarse.

“Um that… that would have also been incinerated, sir. He had to be cut out of his clothing for surgery, all of it is gone.”

“Right.” He replies brusquely.

“I’m going to need to ask you to report to the billing department sir. I know the timing is inopportune, but it has to be done, the accounts have to be settled.”

“What?” He seethes, a quiet rage building inside him.

“What do you mean ‘accounts’? You let my boy die and then burnt him to ashes, I’m not paying a damn cent.”

He growls, snatching up the box and storms off red faced, angry, tears spilling down his face. The nurse calls after his retreating form, to no avail.

Eddie steps off the bus, shrugging his rucksack onto his shoulder, pausing to take in his surroundings.

He knew where you lived thanks to his uncle, though he’d never admit it Wayne had been keeping track of you all these years despite never reaching out. He got his barings and set off down the street.

There’s a knock at your door, your brow furrows in confusion. Who could be calling over at this hour, you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. You look through the peephole to see the young man standing there. You open the door cautiously, before you realise you recognise that mop of curly hair and those chocolate brown eyes. “Eddie? Is that you?” Surprise evident in your tone.

Tears well in his eyes as he nods his head, his lip trembling. You extend your arms, “Oh come here, what’s wrong? What’s happened to you, my Eddie Teddy?” He collapses into your embrace sobbing heavily.

“I-I lost your bandana. I carried it everywhere, I promise, this whole time… b-but I was in hospital and they took it… I d-don’t know w-where it is.”

“That’s ok, sweetie. It’s ok.” You rub soothing circles into his back.

“Why were you in hospital? What happened? Why are you here? Where’s Wayne?” You don’t want to overwhelm him, but you can’t stop the barrage of questions that come tumbling from your lips.

You pull back before he can respond, “Come inside, sweetie. Come on.” You coax him in and usher him to the couch.

“Now, tell me what happened.” You sit beside him.

“You won’t believe me. No one in their right mind would believe me.” He hangs his head.

“Whoever said I was in my right mind, kid.” You nudge his shoulder trying to get a smile.

“I can’t…” he insists, “… well maybe I can just tell you the important bits.” He looks over at you like he’s afraid to disappoint you. You nod.

“They think I’m a murderer, they think I killed her. They were gonna lock me up. I had to get away.”

“Is that how you hurt yourself? Is that how you ended up in hospital?”

“No, no I got hurt real bad trying… trying to be a hero. I was trying to get the guy that actually killed them. But it didn’t work, not really.”

He takes a breath to steady himself, “And I don’t know what happened but then I woke up in hospital, chained to the bed… but I got out and the town, the town was a mess, all burnt up and fractured.”

You let him continue at his own pace, not pushing, listening quietly.

“And now the town is all fucked up, everything is going wrong… I don’t know where Wayne is, but I can’t go back… can’t call, the trailer got trashed. I don’t know what to do Teetee.”

“Take a breath.” You gesture to your chest, demonstrating, breathing in and out deeply. He follows along, “Ok, good. Now first thing I’ll take your bag and you can go have a shower. I’ll make you something to eat and then you go to bed, rest we’ll figure this out in the morning, ok?”

He nods passing you his rucksack, you stand and motion for him to follow. You show him to the bathroom, “You got some clean clothes in here?” You raise his bag slightly.

He shakes his head, “I got some clothes, but they’re not exactly clean.”

“That’s alright, I think I may just have something. Wait here, I’ll get you some fresh towels as well.”

You deposit his bag by the laundry door as you walk past it to your bedroom. On the top shelf of your closet, you spot it, an old cardboard box almost forgotten, standing on tiptoes you reach up and pull it down. You set it down on your bed, opening the flaps with a small sigh. In the box lies a pile of clothes and memories from another lifetime. You root through the clothes, a mixture of yours and those that you’d stolen from Wayne while you were together, which eventually became yours. You find a worn pair of sweatpants and some faded band tee that seem suitable enough. Collecting a set of towels from the linen cupboard on your way back to the bathroom, clothes in hand. You find Eddie sitting on the closed toilet lid looking drained, eyes closed. You set the items down on the counter beside him, his eyes open as you speak, “Here you go, I’ll be just outside if you need anything just give me a shout, ok?”

He nods wordlessly, you move to leave but he calls back,

“Oh uh, do you have any bandages, I might need to change these ones.” He points to his chest.

“Should do, in the first aid kit. I’ll have a look.”

“Thanks Teetee.” He mumbles.

You close the door behind you and you hear the water spring to life.

Eddie sheds his clothes carefully, wincing with every overextension. He surveys his bandaged torso as steam fills the room. He removes the bandage clasps, gingerly unwinding the wrappings over his chest, he is met with a mass of puckered, scarlet, sutured flesh that makes his stomach churn. He discards the stained bandages in the small trash can and enters the shower, water stinging his skin.

You busy yourself preparing something for him to eat, having already laid out some bandages for when he needs them. Once that’s all set you start a timer on the oven, leaning back against the counter you cross your arms over your chest and sigh, what a night. You catch sight of the rucksack on the floor and wonder to yourself if you should get a start on washing those clothes he had mentioned. Pushing off the counter you move to kneel by the bag, unpacking it carefully, you stack the clothes you find beside the bag sorting through them.

As you do something flutters to the floor, a couple of photos landing facedown. You don’t mean to snoop but you can’t help yourself, you flip them over and tears spring to life in your eyes. Eddie’s fifth birthday only a few months before you left them, oh the three of you were so happy, all big bright smiles. You smile through the tears at the bittersweet memories. You look at the next photo, newer, more recent you see Eddie and Wayne amongst a crowd of people who look to be cheering and jumping and throwing fists into the air. A concert you presume, it warms your heart to see the pair of them having fun, enjoying themselves. You wish you could have been there, wonder what it would’ve been like, when the buzz of the timer cuts through your thoughts. You rise from the ground, wiping away the tears and removing the tray from the oven you place it aside to cool.

You hear the water dying down as you load up the washing machine and turn the dial, pressing it down to start. Not long after, Eddie is emerging wearing his uncle’s old sweat pants, shirt clutched in his hand and towelling off his long curls.

You gasp, heart shattering to pieces at the sight before you, his body littered with stitches.

You hope your reaction goes unnoticed as he asks, “Did you find those bandages, Teetee?”

“Yeah… yeah on the table. Here, let me help you, sweetie.” You move to pick up the supplies.

He raises his arms, stretching them out by his sides allowing you to get to work patching him up. You secure your handywork with some medical tape and set off to plating up his dinner as he pulls the shirt over his head with a groan.

He takes a seat and you place his food before him with a smile.

“Pizza toast!” He exclaims, “Oh my god, I love this.”

“Yeah, I know. I used to make it all the time when you were little.” You reply fondly.

There had been much dilemma over the sleeping arrangement last night, Eddie didn’t want to take the bed and you refused to let him take the couch in his condition. You wouldn’t hear a word of it and got your way in the end. You rose before him this morning, occupying yourself by preparing breakfast for the two of you.

Eddie awoke to the smell of pancakes, his mouth watering. “Morning.” He calls from the doorway, his voice raspy with sleep and rubbing the grit from his eyes.

“Morning, Eddie Teddy!” You grin back at him, setting the final plate on the table. “Help yourself.” You offer with a sweeping gesture across the table.

“Mhm, I think… ‘m gonna try... calling a few people today. If tha’s ok?” He mumbles through a mouthful of food. He swallows before continuing, “Should try to get a message to Wayne, let him know where I am, that I’m ok.” He shovels another forkful into his mouth.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” You agree. “I’ve got some errands to run today though, so I won’t be home ‘til after two. You’ll be ok though, right?” You check with him.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” He confirms.

The phone rings, and rings, and rings before he hears Dustin’s voice answering, “Hello?”

“Hey, Dustin it’s me. I need you to do me a favour.” The line is silent, “Dustin? You there?”

“Eddie…? Is that… ? That’s not possible. You’re dead. What the fuck is this?” He stutters down the line, bewildered.

“I’m not dead, why did you think I was dead?” He asks incredulously.

“They told everyone you died, man. What the fuck? What happened to you? Where are you?”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling, I need you to get a message to my uncle, ok?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.”

“Tell ‘im… tell ‘im I’m at my Teetee’s place. He’ll know what that means.”

“Eddie, what the fuck is a TT… hello… hello…” the line goes dead, he slams the receiver down in the cradle, “Son of a bitch!”

He’s pedalling furiously down the street towards Steve’s house, despite his recent injury, five days was definitely not enough time to heal. Throwing his bike aside on the lawn when he gets there he moves as fast as he can to the door. He ding-dongs the bell incessantly. The door opens revealing Steve, “Alright! What? What? What?”

“EDDIE’S ALIVE.” He puffs out, trying to catch his breath, leaning against the wall.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘Eddie’s alive’?”

“I mean he called me and gave me a message for his uncle. You need to take me to the graveyard, he’d be there right now.”

He sighs “Alright, get in the car.” He concedes, unlocking the vehicle.

Dustin grabs his bike from the grass and tosses it in the back seat, to Steve’s protest, “Hey, hey, hey watch the seats! What are you doing? Leave the bike.” He sighs “Oh, whatever just get in.”

Wayne is crouched by his nephew’s gravestone, cleaning off the graffiti yet again. Barely a day went by that someone hadn’t vandalised his nephew’s resting place, it was beginning to wear down on him.

“Mr. Munson.” Dustin limps over calling out.

Wayne looks over his shoulder, guarded, expecting some insult or other to be hurled at him.

“What is it kid?” He grumbles.

“I-it’s about Eddie, sir. He called me, with a message.” He begins shakily.

“My nephew is dead, what kind of sick joke are you playing kid.” He growls.

“It’s not a joke,” Dustin shakes his head vigorously, holding up his hands. “He said he’s ok. He’s at TT’s … said you’d know what that meant.”

He drops the brush in his hand in shock, “What? What did you just say?” His eyes widen in disbelief, “How do you know that name?”

“I told you Mr. Munson, Eddie called, told me to tell you…”

“How?” He cuts him off, “They gave me his ashes…” A disgusted look passing over his features. He rises storming off without a word.

Dustin looks back at Steve, confusion plastered across his face, “What was that? Do we… do we follow him? What do we do?”

“I dunno man,” Steve shrugs, “not much else we can do, really.”

“Do you think he believed me?”

“Yeah, yeah I think he did. We just gotta let him sort it out I guess.” He sighs, “Come on, let me take you home. You know you shouldn’t be biking on that ankle, what were you thinking?” He approaches Dustin, offering an arm to support him.

“I… well, I wasn’t really.” He admits, leaning against Steve as they set off back to the car.

Wayne had barely made any move towards rebuilding his life, living out of a motel in the meantime. He hadn’t been in to work the past week, they hadn’t said anything but he knew it was only a matter of time even with the circumstances. His savings had begun to dwindle, he felt like he was floundering most days, living in a waking nightmare, but the boy had given him an inkling of hope.

When he returned to his room he gathered his meagre belongings and sat on his bed in contemplation. He knew your address, had it memorised by now. There was many a time where he’d thought about it, thought about visiting you, picking up and leaving to live that little dream life together that you’d suggested. It all seemed to disappear in a cloud of smoke, in an instant, gone as quick as it came, though. But this time, this time it was real. He was ready to be done with this town, ready to see his boy again, after so much turmoil. Mouth set in a hard line he rose determinedly, slinging a bag over his shoulder, switching off the lights, closing the door behind him and turning the key in the lock.

Eddie was sprawled over the couch watching cartoons, munching on some cereal he’d found in one of the cupboards. Finally able to relax and breathe easy, no one chasing after him accusing him of murder, no evil monsters trying to kill him, finally a moment’s peace.

Until… there’s a knock on the door. He’s frozen in fear, a noise from the tv startles him. He fumbles for the remote switching off the tv with a wince. They’ve found him, they’re here to take him away and lock him up forever, he thinks. His breathing becomes ragged, there comes a knock yet again. He decides to take his chances and creeps over to the door on tiptoe. He peers through the peephole and sees… his uncle Wayne?

He throws open the door, flinging himself at his uncle without warning. His uncle stumbles back with the force, shock evident on his features. He places his hands on his nephew’s shoulders, pulling back to get a better look at him. Tears begin to well in both their eyes, “Eddie?” His uncle croaks.

“Yeah, yeah it’s me. I’m ok. I’m ok.” He repeats pushing his face back into his uncles chest.

“I didn’t do it… I swear I didn’t.” He sobs.

“I know son, I know.” He assures him, tears rolling down his cheeks, holding him close. “Come on let’s get inside, huh?”

Eddie nods breaking contact and leading the way.

After settling in the pair had a little heart to heart, Eddie explained all that he could about what had happened and his uncle consoled him.

“So, uh where’s y/n?” He asks rubbing a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Oh, she’s gone out for the day. Errands. She should be back soon though. Said she’d be back some time after two.” He shrugs.

As if on cue the key scraping in the lock of the front door can be heard and the handle twisits. The door swings open, “Hey, Eddie I’m back. I got you…” you break off dropping the bags in your hands as you’re greeted by the sight of Wayne and Eddie sitting on your couch. Wayne raises a hand, waving and giving you a nervous smile. You should have expected as much, but you don’t know why it’s come as a shock to see him again after all these years. Again your heart aches for what could have been, this could have been just any other day in another lifetime. Coming home to your family, seeing your boys sitting on the couch. Wayne stands, walking over to cautiously, “Hi…” he begins.

You wrap your arms around him, “Never thought I’d see you again.” You mumble into his chest, “God I’ve missed you, both of you.”

The three of you have sat down to dinner, Wayne is catching you up on everything that’s happened since your separation. Telling all sorts of stories about his nephew, embarrassing him terribly in the process while you laugh along.

“So… how long are you planning on staying?” You venture, tentatively and looking into your plate avoiding eye contact.

“Well, uh… as long as you’ll have me.” He replies, looking to Eddie he adds, “Or, us I should say.”

Excitement bubbles up in your chest, you find yourself hopeful, “Really? You’ll stay?”

“Yep.” He confirms, “Not much left to go back to… especially for the boy. No we need a new start.”

A few weeks had passed, Wayne and Eddie have settled in to your place nicely. Eddie’s taken the spare room, which the two of you set up together. Wayne and you have begun to rekindle what you once had. You knew it would take some work and a whole lot of time to repair the damage that had been done. No one can get back to what they once were overnight, but you were willing to try. You and Wayne had convinced a begrudging Eddie to sit for his GED, it’s not like he could reenrol in high school he’d have no transcripts. You spent your free time tutoring him, determined to help him succeed.

You’d decided to invite some of his friends from back home to see him, it was worth any risk for his happiness and well-being. You watch him from the doorway, leaning against the frame. He’s sitting at your couch, his friends surrounded the coffee table, sprawled all over the floor. They’d set up some board game and were talking animatedly, fully immersed in their own little world. You grin contentedly, his uncle creeps up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your cheek, this is how it should’ve been all along.

#eddie munson fic #platonic eddie munson #platonic eddie munson x reader #wayne munson x reader #fix it fic #hurt/comfort #wayne munson

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thewingedswine · 7 months

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Are you going to finish writing Know You?

NOTE: I am so sorry the answer became a novel, but here you go anyway🤣

That is such an inadvertently loaded question that it hurt my heart when I read it😅

So, YES, I do plan to finish it, and yes, though you didn’t ask, I still plan to start the sequel soon after- I mentioned I think in the first or second chapter that I plan to keep the story going for a few years- and it will end with the characters being like ELDERLY(not all of them but you’ll have to wait and see which ones I YEET)

But honestly what slowed me down in the first place was the dwindling interest and the disdain for stripes as a main oc.

I have a good handful of people who want to see how it ends and I LOVE them, and I love writing for them, but Know You became much closer to my heart than I expected,

And while Stripes is admittedly a dick, I try to make the characters as aware of that as possible. People scold her, she has reasons for acting that way, she sometimes feels bad about it, and she is actively making SMALL unconscious changes throughout the story, (since I plan to make this story last YEEEEAAARSSSS, I can’t give her an arc that ends quickly, I understand how the slow slow progression is frustrating but it’s realistic) and so on-

When people started commenting that they didn’t like the story because of her, I was not in a good place, and I think I emotionally latched onto that as me being a bad writer instead of “this story just isn’t for those people”. And, though I know better now, that feeling still hasn’t gone away

ADDITIONALLY, when I started the story I had sold a big slice of my small business and I had a lot of free time to update frequently because the money was just rolling in and I had very little to do- plus the movie had just come out so the hype was high and people wanted whatever Avatar fics they could get their hands on.

Now there are more options for readers, I’m starting a new business so there is less time to focus on putting out those big meaty chapters, and Know You’s popularity has died so my motivation to post for it (*often*, because I’m still very much in love with the fandom and with my characters and I’ve written out too much of the fucking 75 year timeline to just STOP) has died a bit as well

Lastly, the 2% of my personality that ISNT Avatar is writing. My grandmother has a doctorate in English language and literature (I said in a few places it was composition but i oopsed) I’ve been reading and writing with her as a hobby since I could blink and I DO love writing,(I’m not the greatest writer ever but I do love it)

The reason I write fanfics, which don’t pay, is for the dopamine blast I get when someone says they like the story. I don’t think there is any writer out there that can say they don’t do it at least a little bit for that.

So with the minimal amount of dopamine I get from the satisfaction of making the story exist in general, and the breadcrumbs my 3 online friends who read the story are throwing me every so often, I am indeed army crawling my way to the finish line, but it’s going to be extraordinarily slow.

I hope that answers your question, sorry about the rant, the ending is going to make you explode✨

#neteyam fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #fanfiction #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x oc #avatar way of water #avatar #na’vi oc #writing #creative writing #no motivation

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kaidynsarell · 2 months

Text

🍁🪻Sanguinis et Omnium Fractorum🪻🍁

Chapter 1- Of Stubborn and Impatience

🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻

Pairings- Sebastian Sallow x Female OC

Rating- This story is rated overall 🔞 (Ch 1 is SFW)

Tags- Fluff, Angst, Irritation, Unread letters, and MC (Clara) just being all around Sullen.

The full chapter can be found below the cut (2.7k words)

Ongoing Fic.

Chapters 1-5 are available on AO3 and Wattpad

Thursday, 1st September, 1892

The tea had long since cooled in the time it had sat, untouched on the little table near her four-poster bed. Clara Elmore had not moved since the clink of porcelain against the wood had snapped her unfocused gaze up to the round-faced blonde who’d set it there. Grace’s soft eyebrows had been pulled together in an expression she’d worn far too often around Clara over the past year. Worry. It made Clara’s bones itch. Worry lived too close to pity, and she hated pity.

She’d seen pity too often since the events in the Repository, and each time tasted more bitter against her tongue.

So, she’d hardly acknowledged her roommate's presence as the blonde had carefully set the tea down, and muttered something Clara hadn’t been paying attention to. Probably something about being around to talk if needed. Grace was kind and Clara was being rude. She couldn’t find it in herself to do more than chew on the inside of her lip and Grace had gone without another word.

Still, she sat there, staring across the emerald bed hangings of the two other four poster beds and stubbornly refusing to move from the spot on her mattress; until one particularly uproarious cheer from the common room below reminded her the others would eventually be coming back to the dorm, and she desperately wanted to be in bed before then.

Her being ‘asleep’ meant no one asked how she was doing, and that was preferable to giving some vague well-rehearsed lie, or worse, attempting to coalesce the cacophony of rambling anxieties into something that resembled sentence structure.

The latches of her secondhand trunk clicked noisily, though, not as loudly as the creak of the hinges which were well in need of oil. Morning would bring the official start of Seventh-year classes, and sleep meant finally unpacking and tidying the trunk she’d been neglecting. Uniforms came first. Second hand, like her trunk. But repaired, washed, and pressed by the warm wrinkled hands of her grandmother; who had insisted on caring for Clara’s uniforms when she couldn’t afford the cost of new robes. If love could be stitched, Clara would swear she could find it woven into each of the places her grandmother had repaired the holes and worn edges.

The soft feel of cashmere met her fingers next, and almost without thinking, she brought the deep burgundy scarf up to her face and brushed it over her cheek. It had been an unexpected Christmas present from Ominis in 5th year and was one of the only items she possessed that hadn't been loaned or purchased secondhand.

Being blind, the blond had not known what ‘burgundy’ meant when the shop-keep had told him the color. Instead, as he told her, he’d selected it because he thought it felt nice and believed she might enjoy it.

“Besides-” He’d clipped, in that biting tone only Ominis could achieve. “-I can hardly think these days with the excessive chattering of your teeth. Perhaps this will make them stop.”

His sarcastic irritation painted only a thin layer over the kindness of the gesture. A shield against the brief vulnerability the gift had shown her.

So, despite it being almost Gryffindorian by nature, she’d worn the scarf nearly every day that winter; much to Imelda’s chagrin and Sebastian's amusement.

Below the carefully folded uniforms and scarf, the remaining disorganization of the trunk could have convinced her she’d spent far more than two years surrounded by the walls of the castle. Her grandmother would have been disappointed. Clara dug on. Pulling out heavy books, jars of dittany and mallowsweet, spare wiggenwelds, broken quills, scraps parchment, and a pouch of seeds Poppy had insisted were a favorite of jobberknolls before her fingernails scraped the threadbare material at the bottom and settled on a worn leather journal.

Clara opened it, almost without thinking. Allowing the pages to fall open to a sprig of baby’s breath, pressed between pages speckled with ink; as though the journal itself had known the ghost of the boy who’d given it to her.

The ghost of a boy who’d loved so sweetly he’d stop to pick flowers for a girl, even amid the storm that had raged around them.

The boy who’d loved fiercely and unrelentingly, until the force of it tore him apart and bloodied green over their walls. Three Sallow’s had become two, and they all waited and feared the day two would become one.

In some ways, it already had.

Sebastian had disappeared without a trace; save for a single letter and a sprig of bluebells he’d left on the same table where the cold tea now took up residence. Clara had long since given up trying to figure out how he’d managed to access the girls' dormitories. ‘Impossible’ had only ever been a word to ignite his stubborn determination and Sebastian had a curious knack for finding his way into places he shouldn’t be.

Almost of their own accord, her fingers fumbled the rough edges of the pages. Leafed through them, past the little jotted notes and inked sketches. Past the pages pressed with heather and hyacinth to where that single bluebell pressed its pigment against the parchment and the violet painted over cream.

Gratitude and everlasting love.

Her fingers brushed the places the pigments bled against the parchment, and not for the first time, Clara wondered if Sebastian had known the language of flowers.

Had it been a coincidence the first had been baby’s breath?

Hope, new beginnings, and innocent love.

An image of messy brown curls and sun-kissed freckles tipped the edges of her memory. Tiny white flowers offered with a roguish smirk that had done little to distract from the way his gaze had darted too quickly between her eyes and the flowers held with trembling fingers.

Had it been a mere chance he’d offered heather before each of the brutal trials the Keepers had demanded of her?

Luck, protection, and admiration.

Could it have been happenstance he’d offered a hyacinth when she’d stubbornly refused to speak to him after his anger had exploded over her involvement with Lodgok?

Sorrow, regret, and forgiveness.

Somehow she didn’t think so. Sebastian may have been a lot of things. Playful, charming, and confident? Yes. Wildly chaotic and infuriatingly stubborn? Definitely. Insatiably curious and much too intelligent for his own good? Absolutely. But naïve? Naïve, was never a trait she’d been able to attribute to the Slytherin.

Perhaps that was the reason she’d never read his letter.

It had been discarded in a fit of anger, to be lost to the bottom of her trunk, and conveniently covered by a scattering of miscellaneous items. Out of sight, and pushed to the edges of her mind where she’d refused to acknowledge the places where the corners of it dug into her thoughts.

Neither of them had ever fully acknowledged whatever had been between them. Sewn with intricate strands of sugar-spun glass, and left unspoken. As though to touch it would have been enough to shatter the delicate balance in which they’d found themselves. Instead, it had been said in the furtive glances during long hours in the library. In the leaning closer until their shoulders touched, and in the uneven crashing of her heart when neither of them moved away. It had been found tucked beneath their palms in the moments they’d spent seated amongst fields of heather; his fingers curled around hers and brushing absentmindedly along the back of her hand as she’d used the other to connect the freckles across his cheeks.

In a single stolen kiss, under starlight by the lake. The softest brush of his lips over hers, and the stars had found their home, scattered across her skin.

Perhaps things would have been different had the brunt of stopping Ranrock's rebellion not fallen on her shoulders. Or if Anne had not been dying.

But it had. And she was. So they weren’t.

Clara’s fingers traced the outline of the delicate violet-blue flowers once again. Why she’d not tossed the flower away with the letter was a mystery, even to her.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

Gratitude and everlasting love.

She’d always walked a line between stubborn and impatient. In many instances, the two virtues fell on opposite sides of her problems and she often found herself in a battle of which would be the stronger. The letter had been no different, and her stubborn had won.

She’d refused to open it. To acknowledge whatever ‘goodbye’ he’d scrawled across the parchment. Refused the idea he’d said he loved her with violet petals and disappeared. That he might have written the same across the page and abandoned her. Stubborn had thrown the envelope into the corner of her trunk and denied its existence. Meanwhile, her heart had wrapped threads to the edges of her fingers and carefully pressed the bluebell between crisp pages where the violet may as well have been imprinted onto her skin.

She’d never said it to him. Flower or otherwise. Then again, she’d not left him either.

Stubborn could hide the letter and let her lose it amongst her belongings. Stubborn could hold her hand while she refused to acknowledge the possibility that he may never come back.

The crisp rectangle rested against the bottom. Beige framed by faded indigo. Still, she refused to touch it and her fingers scraped the bottom for any remaining items. A few gold coins, a crumpled potions essay she’d only half finished, the odd sock, and half a dozen hairpins until nothing else remained; save for the single four-sided polygon.

Stubborn may have masked her over the past year while the letter was hidden and out of sight, but impatience’ eager fingers flitted against the place her stubborn lived and curled under its edges. Worked it away like peeling wallpaper, until shaking fingers finally grasped the beige and left the indigo unadorned.

Another series of shouts from the Slytherin common room startled against her ears and Clara flicked her wand to her bed hangings. They closed around her in an instant. Cocooned her away between walls of emerald.

The seal of the envelope broke far easier than she’d anticipated and trembling fingers pulled out two pieces of parchment. One, which was blank and impatiently discarded somewhere behind her. And another, spiderwebbed with the splattered ink of his usual messy scrawl.

Sebastian's handwriting could have been classified as its own method of code. Atrocious. Which she had always found amusing, given Anne’s impeccable talent with calligraphy. It had been a point of pride when she’d finally learned to read it. Now, there could have been an N.E.W.T taught on the subject of deciphering Sebastian Sallow’s handwriting and she’d have achieved an Outstanding without question.

Something was comforting in the familiarity of it, and trying to ignore the wavering of the page below her trembling fingers; Clara finally lowered her eyes to the letter she’d allowed to be lost to the bottom of her trunk and refused to read for over a year.

Ara,

I know you’re angry. It’s okay. I would be angry at me too, and while I hope in time you can forgive me, I’ll understand if you can’t. I know leaving like this was selfish, but I couldn’t stay here, and I knew if I saw you I wouldn’t have the strength to go. Perhaps that makes me a coward too—another reason I’m not a Gryffindor.

The truth is, I need time. Time away from everything. Away from Scotland and Hogwarts. Time to gather my thoughts or maybe make sense of everything or……I don’t know……

Just time, I guess.

Besides, a whole world exists, and Anne still needs a cure. I can’t say if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve her forgiveness, or yours, but Anne deserves to live and I can’t afford to limit my search to Britain or Hogwarts. There are at least seven other wizarding schools I’ve not even touched. Can you imagine what could be found in the mountains of Uagadou or at Mahoutokoro? Even the ancient Egyptian wizards had vast libraries and I’ve not ruled out muggle means of healing either.

There has to be something, somewhere.

She could almost hear his voice through the page. The exuberance with which it bubbled up in those moments his thoughts ran faster than his lips could form the words and the syllables tripped over one another in a furious bid for freedom.

I know you’d have wanted to come, and I’d be lying if I said I won't miss you terribly. But this is my burden to carry. The world has already asked too much of you Ara, and I’ve asked more than most.

It’s time you get a chance to truly enjoy Hogwarts without threats looming over your head.

As you are likely already aware, I’ve established enchantments to render myself untraceable-

She was. She’d not sent the owls, but Ominis had. They had all returned days later, having been unable to locate the recipient, and Sebastian's whereabouts had remained unknown. Clara had never told the blond about the letter stubbornly tossed to the bottom of her trunk. And just as impatience had lost to stubborn, so had guilt, and the letter had remained locked away.

-but I’ve cast an alteration of the Protean charm on the blank page included with this letter.

( If I know you, you’ve immediately tossed that page away somewhere, and quite frankly, I’m very much counting on you not immediately setting fire to this whole letter as soon as you see it.)

If you write on that parchment, I’ll see the message on the matching copy I’ve got with me, and I’ll be able to write back to you.

As I’ve said, I need some time, but If you do choose to write, I promise I will write back to you, Ara.

I leave the rest in your hands, Love.

Yours, Always

- S

The letter dropped into Clara’s lap with a little flutter, caught on the air, and wavered a moment before settling against the plush emerald of her bedspread. In another instant, she snatched the blank parchment from the spot it had settled in the corner and studied it furiously. As though she might find the workings of the magic woven within the fibers.

Though her stubborn desperately wanted to toss the letter away and refuse to respond, impatience’s claws dug deep. Before she could stop to think of the ridiculousness of it, she’d found a quill and a bottle of ink and scooted the cold tea cup from the small table to make space for the blank page.

The tip of her quill hovered a long time over the parchment. Long enough drips of onyx slid down to contrast the beige. A steady drip, drip, drip as her mind vacillated between the myriad of things she’d wanted to say to him. Thoughts that had crowded her mind when she’d been too restless to sleep and she’d replayed all the things she’d have told him if he’d stayed.

If they’d had more time.

She settled for one word.

--Bastian?--

The ink hovered on the page. Glistened in the low candlelight and absorbed the muted tones of green that melted in through the window from the lake above.

The space below his name remained frustratingly blank.

Clara sighed and pressed her fingers into her eyes. He’d not said how long it would take him to respond and she resisted the urge to write. ‘This is stupid. I’m writing to a blank parchment and expecting it to write back.’

She settled for muttering it under her breath, as though the paper might have ears.

Though, she thought. He should be grateful she had written his name and not some version of ‘What the fuck were you thinking, Sallow?’

She decided she’d write that later.

Still, she stared at the blank space and drummed her fingers against the edge of the table. Caught in a stalemate, as stubborn and impatient battled furiously between scribbling another message, and locking the parchment back into her trunk for another year.

She almost didn’t notice when the page shimmered. It wasn’t much. Just a slight ripple of distorted light and in the place her ink had formed his name, new letters began to appear.

One by one.

In the familiar messy scrawl that embodied all of the chaos of its writer.

…

.::Hello Sweetheart::.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy sebastian sallow #angst #ao3 fanfic #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fan fiction #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #sebastian sallow x oc #MC has all the trauma #She's so grumpy and stubborn and I love her #Tea drama #Wizard texting #unspoken feelings #sebastian sallow fanfiction

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giselberts · 5 months

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hoguh i'm thinking about henriette (non-DS oc) and vasco some more...

a hc i have is that while naut kids often have a few trustworthy adults that kind of act as their guardian there's not too much physical affection?? and so when vasco meets henriette that little boy absolutely latches onto her because she pinches his cheeks and sometimes gives him a little cuddle

i hc vasco to be kind of touch-averse bc of that? only really opens up when he's with someone he trusts enough or when he's tryna get some

everytime he's back in new serene he absolutely dashes to her workshop and sets up fort in there. henriette makes him sweep the floors and tries to set him up with any cute person his age that comes in for a fitting but alas... that lad just wants his boat. no time for teenage romance. there's seas to conquer bro

as a teenager he probs was lightly embarrassed to still be clinging to henriette until he realised the power of "at least i have a mom". and also henriette repairs every naut's clothes for a discount so they tend to Not Tease vasco otherwise they lose their discount

vasco and henriette wingman each other but in their own little ways :) henriette just goes "oh i know a nice handsome young man :) you'll like him he's my weird sonboy-brother" and vasco recommends her business to anyone he thinks would be nice to her

henriette makes him the biggest meals ever when he arrives in port! they only see each other ever 2-5 years so there's a lot of catching up and a lot of "wow you've grown so much :) a nice young man now :)"

#they have like?? 10-12 year difference between them??#henriette #meja's ocs #greedfall #vasco #captain vasco

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waitingonthewind · 5 months

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Out of all your characters (from games or otherwise), which one do you think is the most like you? In what ways? Was it intentional, or was it an accident you only noticed after the fact?

(Feel free to delete if it feels too personal 🙈)

@undead-potatoes aaaaaa thanks so much for the ask!!! i don't love doing self reflection (i have a hard time in identifying things about myself and often rely on other people to Tell Me Who I Am) but i love talkin about my ocs so this ended up really big

ill pop the majority of this under the cut but here take an unfinished doodle of my first attempt at a fursona in this the year 2023 bc i finally had some insight into What That Might Be for me its a leafy sea dragon bc as a kid i loved dragons and also leafy sea dragons specifically and as an adult i love fish and plants and the colour green ok basics covered here we go

its a really tough one, especially since all my characters have huge parts of me in them (u point to one of my guys and there's a 99% chance they're queer and a 95% chance they're autistic), and the majority of my characters infect me with Their personalities and traits (speech mannerisms especially... i went about 3 years peppering the word gotcha into every other sentence bc of ollwyn. in terms of it being intentional, usually only one or two bits with each character. i try my best to give characters personality traits and interests that differ from my own, or at the very least mix and match bits and pieces.

sometimes i'll try and make characters that are so so different from me but then it backfires because it means that im far more likely to pick up that character's traits (i didn't swear at All in my whole life until i tried making a character outside my comfort zone who Did swear a lot and now fucking look at me). i also don't like doing my Research so going for interests that i don't know a lot about means i don't. know anything about them lmao.

i think it's impossible to have a character that isn't at least Somewhat like you, we draw from our own experiences and ways of seeing the world, after all. i know i put little pieces of myself into every character and it's hard to say if there's any One character that embodies me most.

almost none of my characters really look like me tho

all that being said i've narrowed down my entire list to three of note. all three are dnd or other ttrpg characters bc they're the ones that i find myself having to think most about in terms of how they Think and Feel in any given situation and over time would notice stuff about myself or about them that i didn't realise were related.

i think these days ollwyn wins out personality wise goofy, indignant, lonely, desperate for approval, and loud. they're stubborn and enthusiastic, needs to be centre of attention but doesn't want to take the lead. they don't have many friends but latch onto those they do make. i re-realised my rat dreams because of them. i made em a bard bc i was obsessed with music as an aesthetic.

i made em a half-elf because i didn't wanna be Too out there with character creation (back when i was a terrified lil new rp-er who hadn't touched dnd before and felt i hadn't Earned anything more interesting yet). then magic and stuff happened and they got all the over-the-top design elements i was too nervous to implement initially and even that feels representative of my Own growth in being more Out There with my aesthetics and personality (i.e. completely shutting off my social filter, not toning shit down so much anymore)

oh i know i said none of my characters really look like me but i almost never draw ollwyn with their mouth fully closed and i only realised like years later that it may have been just a mild lil projection of a habit. i got big front teeth and breathing issues and i find it uncomfortable to close my lips Most of the time lmao

my poor unfortunately named aasimar (it was 2018........ i promise...............) takes the cake when it comes to suffering the brunt of my neurodivergence and sensory issues, and represents a significant portion of the judgy parts of myself that i try not to let myself be. strong opinions, blunt, tone issues, big issues with food and touch. comes across as, and often is, very critical. the biggest difference between me and them is that they don't feel bad about those aspects of themself lol

where i spend every moment of my life either desperately concentrating on my wording so as not to come across as rude, or feeling shitty for coming across as blunt/aggressive in tone or phrasing (where 99% of the time i absolutely don't mean it that way im autistic pls im autistic if i wanna be able to get the Right words out the tone doesn't match and vice versa), corona just says what they want or what they think, and if people get offended, that's People's fault for not trying to make more of an effort to understand the way they talk.

sal is my Top Oc Of All Time and as such takes on a lot of random aspects of myself (skin picking, fidgeting, latent anxiety, All of the visual aesthetics i Wish i could pull off, my love of birds, my tendency to Mr Burns Posture my way through life. she's also very very australian), while also inflicting things on me lmao ive learned more about my gender from the years of playing her in her rp campaign than in the rest of my entire life. a lot of her experiences and dynamics with her friends and family reflect a lot of aspects of my own

i only want good things for her and constantly put her through fucking hell

anyway they're all So Much Weirder as people than I can really put on paper and in (relatively) different ways but i just know it all stems from the Who I Am of it all

bonus shout out to beki:

she was my homestuck fankid and first proper oc, which also meant that she was only about two steps away from a self insert. because i made her as a teenager, i feel the distance between us more each year, but im still very fond of her, in the same way i am for my teenage self. i wanna pat her head and tell her she's cool and not annoying and that her friends don't hate her and that things will be okay

i think it says a lot about me that all four of these guys fall somewhere on the aro/ace spectrum (almost in order of least to most aggressively aro/ace. ollwyn's a demiromantic greysexual, corona is demi + grey on both romantic & sexual orientations, sal's pretty much only interested in the One Guy Ever, and beki is sex repulsed, 100% aro/ace) lmao

#ask #undead-potatoes #oc #my oc #character talk #ole two toes sal #beki #ollwyn #i cant tag my aasimar #i just cant #idk if tumblr would block that shit ugh #i named em before it all i swear #ty so much for the ask i love talking abt my fuckin weird lil freaks

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mateidontevenknow · 1 year

Text

ONESHOT ALERT

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Ship: Klaus x Damon x OC (Fem)

F*ck with finesse

Klaus and Damon sat in a bar, Gloria's. They were looking for a toy to take home and Damon had his sights set on a certain someone. He elbowed Klaus as his target sat down at the bar, she was alone.

Klaus looked to see a woman in her mid twenties. She was gorgeous with shoulder length black hair, dark eagle eyes, full lips and elegant glasses that fit her face perfectly. She looked like a regular gym goer with perfectly sculpted arms and thighs that could crush watermelons. She wore black jeans, with a black tank top, showing off her neck and collarbones, and a denim jacket. She was flawless.

Damon looked at Klaus and he nodded enthusiastically before standing up and dragging Damon towards her.

"What is a fine young lady, like you, doing here all by herself?"

The two vampires sitting down on either side of their new plaything.

"Trying to get a drink mostly, why do you ask?"

"Just curiosity really. It's not often we come across a beauty like you. What's your name, love?"

"Artemis."

"A fitting name, for a goddess. So what brings you here tonight?"

She laughed, a melodic song.

"You make the assumption that, one, I don't know what your trying to do, and two, that I don't know who you are."

"So you've heard about us. Does that increase our chances of getting what we want?"

"Exponentially, because now I know that if I agree, I'm not going to be disappointed."

The two men smirked at each other.

"And how long have you been around, love?"

"671 years now. I was turned when I was 28."

"Well, we offer you the best night of your life, if you're willing to give us what we want."

"You'll have to convince me first, with a little bit of a free trial."

She winked at them before walking out, leading the two men into an alley outside. Klaus pushed her up against the wall, kissing her fiercely. She was strong, but she was still no match for the hybrid. Damon latched onto her exposed neck, kissing, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin. He ran his hands along her sculpted body.

She was in heaven.

"Ok, you win."

That was they needed to hear before Damon’s hands was around her waist. Her surroundings blurred as she was taken away from the bar.

Damon threw her onto a bed in what looked like a fancy hotel. Klaus started getting rid of his clothing while Damon kept her busy. They had clearly done this before.

Damon hovered over her as he kissed her, slowly removing her jacket as he did so. His tongue slipped into her mouth but he was quickly overpowered as she drove her fingers into his hair, slowly massaging his scalp. He couldn’t believe it, she had rendered him useless in less than 30 seconds.

Klaus joined in, giving her hickeys on her neck and collarbones as he searched for her sweet spot. She whimpered at the sudden attention her skin was getting. Damon got off the bed, discarding his clothing as well as putting it in the hamper. Klaus took over for him. He smashed his lips onto hers.

Her hand reached for his hair but Klaus caught it, pinning it to the bed above her head.

"That won't work a second time."

Her other wrist was collected as well and both were tied to the bed frame above her head. She tugged at it, before deciding that it didn't really matter. Damon took off her glasses before replacing them with a blindfold. She grinned into her kiss with Klaus. These two were kinky. And so was she.

Damon began removing her clothing, revealing pale skin and a few stretch marks. Klaus saw this as an opportunity and brought his hand down to stroke her inner thigh. She whimpered into his mouth.

Klaus moved to make room for Damon as he kissed from her bellybutton down to her clit. He licked her clit, getting a moan from her as a reward. He dug in. Flicking his tongue in all the right directions. She threw her head back, exposing her neck to Klaus.

He latched on, sucking at every sweet spot he could find. This was heaven. Damon pushed a finger into her, curling it around and stretching her open. She let out another loud moan. Klaus rolled her nipples between his fingers, getting a whimper in response.

She could feel as she was being stretched open by Damon’s fingers. He added a third before pulling them out. He aligned himself and pushed into her. Slowly thrusting inside her.

"You feel amazing."

She couldn't respond.

Damon started thrusting quicker as Klaus kissed her mouth again, inhaling every moan she let out. His tongue pressed against hers.

As Damon sped up, she could feel her high approaching. She took short shallow breaths before she tightened around him, reaching her climax while moaning loudly into Klaus' mouth. Damon pulled out satisfied as he came too.

Klaus grinned into the kiss before asking,

"Up for round two?"

Artemis replied breathlessly,

"Definitely."

#damon salvatore #klaus mikaelson #i ship it #tvd #klamon #oneshot #tvd oneshot #tvd damon #why am i like this #smut #vampire diaries smut

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as-is-above-so-below · 1 year

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In the Middle of the Night (Jason Todd x OC)

Masterlist

Chapter 7, Chapter 9

story summary: Melanie Withers and Jason Todd do everything together - including but not limited to stealing tires off Gotham's famous vigilante. The newest additions to the Wayne family begin their journey, learning how to navigate their new family, life as vigilantes, adolescence, grief, and rebirth.

chapter summary: Teenage fluff, sibling bonding, and Dad!Bruce

Shoutout to @lethalchiralium for beta'ing this chapter :)

July 2012

Bruce checked his cufflinks in the mirror before buttoning his jacket, meeting their eyes in the reflection. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone.”

“I can’t believe it. Another date with Selina Kyle,” Melanie teased, her hands on her hips. Bruce had been fretting over his appearance for the last hour, rifling through his suits to pick just the right one (they all looked the same to her), meticulously combing his hair, and asking for their opinions on about a dozen different ties. “Why are you so nervous? You’ve been together for years, it’s not like you have to win her over.”

“You always have to impress. Every time,” he advised, taking the massive bouquet Alfred offered to him. “Whether it be a grand gesture or something small. Having a long history with someone doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be lazy. Remember that advice.” He bonked the top of her head with the flowers, stray water from the stems clinging to her face. She sputtered, wiping the droplets with the back of her hand. “And as you said, Bruce Wayne hasn’t taken Selina Kyle on a real date in a long time.”

Alfred then passed along two small boxes with a ‘W’ impressed onto their face. Jason snorted and reached for one. “Seems a little soon for a proposal, Bruce,” he pointed out, then the box was swiftly moved out of his reach. He pouted frowned and went to pounce when Bruce cleared his throat.

“These aren’t for Selina. They’re for you.” He handed the confused teens their respective gifts. “You were meant to get these months ago, but I decided to have them specially made, which took longer.”

They briefly made eye contact before cracking open them open. A thin gold chain with a ‘W’ pendant, about the same diameter as a penny, lay in hers. Jason’s contained a thicker necklace of the same material, sans any charms.

“When I was about your age, my parents gave me one. My father said ‘a gold chain should be a staple in every man’s wardrobe,’” he explained, patting the spot where his necklace rested under his collar. “When Dick became my ward, I had some of my parents’ jewelry melted down to make a chain as my father did for me. Now I’m doing it for you. I made yours thinner to be more feminine, but if you’d like something else I can change it.”

“No, I love it. Thank you.” Melanie pulled the delicate piece loose from its holder and held it out to Jason. “Can you help?”

He smirked, took it from her, and motioned for her to turn around. Her wavy hair already tied up and out of the way, Jason gingerly draped the necklace before moving closer until he could see the tiny clasp enough to fasten it. His fingers brushed against the soft skin as he fiddled with it, sending sparks up his fingertips. He did his best to ignore it, and finally, the latch caught, and he lingered for split second before tapping her shoulder.

When Jason’s touch was gone, Melanie finally allowed herself to shiver, the spots where he had grazed her burning underneath her skin. She quickly did the same with him, the clasp on his chain bigger and easier to work than hers had been.

“Perfect,” Bruce beamed when they faced him again, smiling themselves. “I have to get going. Remember, no patrol, and try not to–”

“Cause too much trouble,” the teens droned at the same time.

“Exactly. Just have to make sure you were listening.” With one final adjustment in the mirror, Bruce made for the door. “Be good!”

They were, indeed, not good.

After Bruce left, the pair settled into their routine of Melanie typing as Jason recited the synopsis of a book she was supposed to have read for her paper. He watched over her shoulder, occasionally pointing at the screen to tell her where to make corrections. When he wasn’t talking with his hands, he was drawing light circles on one of the elbows resting on his thighs.

Melanie was smart, but God did she hate Literature class.

Jason is mid-explaining what the green light in The Great Gatsby means when Dick appears in his bedroom doorway, knocking twice. Melanie peeked around her laptop, where her body was nestled between the length of his legs, head resting on his stomach. “If Dad sent you to check in on us, we’re fine. We’re behaving,” she told him, before going back to finishing her (read: Jason’s) thoughts on the electronic page.

“Behaving?! Absolutely not. I won’t have it. Let’s go.”

“So Bruce didn’t send you to babysit?”

“A little birdy told me that tonight’s date night, figured I’d see what you guys were up to. Clearly, you need my help.” Dick winked at them before jumping forward, grabbing Jason by his ankles and effectively yanking them both down the bed.

Jason glowered at the ceiling, irritated at the man for ruining his alone time. It was hard enough getting Melanie alone nowadays, with schoolwork and training and gymnastics, without their brother interrupting what was supposed to be a night off.

“Suit up, we’ve got places to be,” he said, holding up…the keyfob for the Batmobile?

Melanie closed her computer and placed it higher up on the mattress, then rolled off of Jason. “Dad said we can’t patrol without him,” she pointed out, leaning back on her hands.

“We’re not patrolling, just doing some sightseeing!” Dick sang, twirling the keyring on his index finger. “Beats this snooze fest.”

Jason rolled his eyes as he sat up, legs still splayed in front of him. “For your information, dickwad, I like school. And we were enjoying a quiet night off,” he grumbled, then stretched forward until his hands wrapped around his feet, stretching his muscles and spine. Jason had quickly put on weight with regular homecooked meals and frequent exercise. From what he could tell from the files on the Batcomputer, he had already surpassed Dick in size when he was the same age. Growing pains were bothering him, but it wasn’t anything a bit of stretching couldn’t fix. “I’d kill to drive the Batmobile, but–”

Dick snapped his fingers and pointed with finger guns. “Sold!” he said, like an auctioneer, with a wicked, mischievous smile.

The black-haired boy tilted his head up from his stretch, brows raised. “You’re not serious. Bruce will kill us.”

“Bah, what Bruce doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. Besides, if he does find out, he can’t ground all of us. We just have to stick together.” He offered his hands to pull each of them off the bed. “Remember, young grasshopper: I exist for the sole purpose of raising his blood pressure. You must learn to ask forgiveness, not permission.”

“Whose bright idea was it to interrupt my evening with an alert that the Batmobile was activated?”

The thick heel of Bruce’s loafers clicked on the hard floor of the Batcave as he paced back and forth, echoing over the profound silence from his children. Dick, Jason, and Melanie were lined up in their uniforms, arms behind their backs like soldiers, eyes straight ahead. All three sported tousled, wind-swept hair, Melanie’s tangled in bushy knots over her shoulders.

“I admire your solidarity. Truly,” Bruce admitted with pursed lips. He stopped in front of Jason and leaned into his face. “Very touching. I don’t want to punish you, lad. This could all be over if you just tell me which one of you decided to take the Batmobile for a joyride.”

Dick nudged him with his elbow. “Hold.”

Bruce shot a nasty glare in his oldest son’s direction. Dick had gotten into plenty of his own shenanigans growing up, especially when the League created the Titans for their partners. The loyalty between the Titans only went so far when it came to getting grounded. However, as Selina had pointed out months ago, he wasn’t prepared for sibling collaboration.

He straightened up and buttoned his jacket. “No one? Last chance.” After another stretch of silence, he sighed deeply and shook his head. “Alright, I warned you. I don’t want to do it, but I guess I’ll have to ground all of you.”

“I don’t even live here–”

“Grounded.”

“But we have to patrol!” Melanie whined, waving at her costume. Her hair fell into her eyes, which she blew back in annoyance. The strand floated back down unceremoniously.

“You climbed onto the hood while going sixty miles an hour!” He turned to Jason next. “You drove the damn thing! You are thirteen years old!”

“Almost fourte–”

Bruce cut him off by addressing Dick. “And you encouraged it! You used your vocal ID!” He pointed at each of them with every statement. Bruce sighed yet again and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something along the lines of Thirteen years old and Still stealing my cars. These kids were going to be the death of him. “Fine,” he growled. “You can patrol. But otherwise, you will stay in your rooms. You will only come out for meals and patrols for two weeks.”

“Dad, come on! That’s not fair!”

“This is not a discussion! I’m tempted to revoke everyone’s access to it in the first place!”

Melanie promptly snapped her mouth shut, having decided it would be best not to make the situation worse. Dismissed to the locker room after a thorough reaming and the promise of an extensive refresher on emergency vehicle use and driving safety, they all stripped out of their suits and into the comfy house clothes in their lockers. They stared at each other for a moment until Jason choked. Melanie immediately lost her composure, cheeks red from trying to hold in the fit of giggles that inevitably ruptured.

Dick dropped his entire weight onto the locker next to him and wheezed helplessly as his siblings melted into a puddle on the floor. “H-Holy shit, he-he’s pissed,” he croaked, covering his tear-filled blue eyes. “I don’t–know if I’ve ever m-made him so mad!”

High-pitched screams filled the air, Jason gripping his stomach. “I c-can’t breathe!”

“‘A-Almost fourteen’, I can’t believe you–”

October 2012

Bruce let the glass door to the conference room shut behind him with a soft rush of air. After his phone buzzed for the third time in his pocket, he briefly excused himself from the Wayne Enterprises board meeting. Dick had called twice, and now Alfred was the one who had tried to reach him. Probably because they know he always picks up for Alfred. “It’s one competition, Alfred. There will be plenty more.” Bruce checked the time again, not wanting to take too long. “Look, I really have to get back-”

“Master Bruce, I’m afraid I must insist. It’s not just a competition. This is her first.”

“Melanie said it was fine. She knows this is an important meeting. She told me not to come.”

Alfred sighed on the other end of the line, and Bruce could picture the exasperated look the butler was most definitely wearing. “Sir, if I may,” he offered. “You do realize Miss Melanie is a teenage girl, correct?”

The man paused, lips pressed into a thin line as he looked over his shoulder at the board members expectantly waiting for his return. “…Dammit.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Can I make it?” he asked, referencing his watch again.

“If you leave now, you just might be able to sneak in.”

Bruce promptly hung up and poked his head back into the boardroom. “I’m sorry, everyone, I’m such a ditz. I completely forgot that I have a family event tonight. You’ll have to excuse me. I appoint Lucius as my proxy.”

“But Mr. Wayne-” A dark-haired woman in a pantsuit stood near the end of the table, looking completely appalled at his sudden departure. Oh well.

“I really have to go. Apologies again!”

Melanie dismounted the beam and hit the final pose of her routine, facing the judges’ table before quickly turning on her toes to the crowd. She had competed on the uneven bars and done a floor routine before finishing on the balance beam.

It had taken quite some time for Dick to work something out and get her into competitive gymnastics. Not being associated with a particular gym provided its challenges but Dick’s reputation from volunteering as a gymnastics teacher at local community centers in Blȕdhaven (and, obviously, as a Wayne) lent a helping hand. They paid their dues and were allowed to compete, but not without some media backlash.

Many parents and media personalities expressed their distaste. Some called Dick’s presence an ‘unfair advantage’, given his pedigree as one of the world’s top trapeze artists. Others claimed their father had to have paid panelists and association members off and that there was no way that a street rat from Crime Alley could bear actual talent in less than a year.

Who knew the performative sports world was so vicious?

Dick clapped wildly and pumped the air from the coach's area. She beamed, waving both hands and scanning the crowd for her family. A sharp whistle caught her ear, and she finally found them in the front row further down. Jason removed his fingers from his mouth and then resumed his jumping and hollering; Alfred applauded politely next to him. Then, Melanie realized–

He really didn’t come.

Her shoulders and expression dropped minusculely, disappointment evident only to those who knew her well. While she did tell Bruce that it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he missed the competition, Melanie had held out hope that he would make it. Alfred nodded to his left, and she followed his direction along the courtside bleachers. Still in a sharp suit, clapping quietly by the door to not draw attention, was–

Dad!

Melanie’s smile brightened impossibly before she moved to the sidelines, hugging Dick tightly as he lifted her off the ground.

After the award ceremony, Jason’s body smacked into hers, nearly knocking the wind out of her. He rocked them back and forth on each foot, her shoulders locked into him by his arms. Jason pressed a small but lingering kiss on her rosy cheek, about an inch from the corner of her mouth. Cameras clicked and flashed in the background as she grinned at him, about to speak before she saw her dad coming toward her.

She handed Dick her trophy and took off in a sprint, then launched into Bruce’s arms when she was within range. “You came!” she squealed, squeezing his neck as her legs wrapped around his waist. He held her easily, swaying as he hugged her. “Look!” she exclaimed, holding her medal up to him. “They put my name and score on it and everything!”

“I knew you could do it, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, letting her gush over the engraved details.

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rubylarkspur22 · 7 months

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any advice on planning out a story? I'm trying to create an AU where Tanjiro dies in final selection but I can't figure out how to make everything work without either adjusting the timeline so Tanjirou goes to final selection a few years earlier than in canon, or making way too many OCs as a way to avoid making every interaction be one with a hashira

Can't say I know for sure, honestly. To be entirely frank, most of my stories involve me BS-ing as inspiration strikes. And some of the time, I overhaul half of it because of a new idea my brain latched onto.

I guess my best advice is to ask yourself this: what do you want your story to be about? For my AUs, even the plot bunny stories, I always end up thinking about how the different characters would react in another's situation. I give myself the challenge of not making it a rehash of canon with names switched on the transcript. I also have to make sure to keep the reactions different between my different AUs. Especially when it is a very different character from the one canonically in that situation.

And then there's the times I think, "But what if Nezuko got a sword(or two)?" And then that one AU (*cough* 💕) where she's a feral arsonist due to being stuck in the Entertainment District from ages 4-12. Can you tell Feral Gremlin Human!Nezuko lives in my head rent free?

That's the thing about fanfics. Sometimes you are flying by the seat of your pants, and other times you put a lot of time and effort into it before it so much as sees the drafts on AO3. Again, it's about asking what you want to achieve with the story, and what method works best for you. Encouraging thoughts about how certain characters would react to a given, potentially altered, scenario? The consequences surrounding a character's actions? You want your favourite character to be a feral arsonist gremlin? Who knows!

I'm not sure how helpful this actually was. Regardless, I wish you the best of luck!

#demon slayer #kny fanfic

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storybook-with-a-hug · 1 year

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Fix-It Miraculously: Analyzing Alya (Season 1 focus)

So, with the next chapter in my story being another of the OC chapters, it gives me a chance to explore the supporting cast more. Though over-all the chapter is going to be Adrien-centric, one of the things I’m doing in it is exploring his relationships with other people besides Marinette. Particularly, this chapter is going to focus rather heavily on the budding friendship between him and Alya on both sides of his mask. To do so, though, I figured I’d take the chance to expand a bit more on my take on Alya and who she is as a character in the start of the series.

So I don’t think anyone would call it a stretch to say Alya is a very passionate person. She’s the sort to throw herself head-long and completely into every new theory she comes up with an exuberance that is quite admirable. She is fiercely loyal and always wants to do the right thing, even if she doesn’t always go about it in the best way.

However, the problems of her character are so intrinsically linked to the best parts of her character that it’s more to say she takes her best qualities too far and hasn’t yet learned how to temper herself to an appropriate reaction. Which is not to say she’s strictly in the wrong or that she’s a bad character/friend/person, just that she’s a young teen (13 in my story, probably 14 in canon, but this is an analysis for my story specifically so I’m making her 13) who still has a lot to learn.

As such, Alya has three glaring problems that over the course of this story she will learn to address. Her primary problem, which isn’t even so much of a “her” thing as it is an age/experience thing, is that she tends to jump to conclusions too quickly and then once she’s latched on she has a lot of problems letting go. This was her big problem with the “Chloe is Ladybug” theory in Lady WiFi, she made a conclusion and then set out to make her proof match her theory and disregarded everything that countered her foregone conclusion instead of letting the facts prove of disprove the hypothesis. If she had taken the time to step back and examine her facts, or listen to the advice of those around her, she never would have gotten herself in that situation. And while getting getting suspended and proven thoroughly wrong was a bit of a nasty wake-up call for her, she hasn’t quite learned her lesson yet.

She jumped to conclusions again in Pharaoh, where she (rightfully) believed Ladybug was a student in her grade in her school and then (wrongfully) changed her mind to believe that Ladybug was an ancient Egyptian demi-goddess that’s thousands of years old. Now, beyond the fact that in the canon episode Alya apparently found the book, researched what schools used it and how many girls were in their school year, went all the way to Marinette’s house, and then all the way to the Louvre and spent all that time looking at the scroll without ever once even bothering to open the front cover of the book and see Marinette’s name written in it, the fact that she so easily believed this lie makes me think it has something to do with the quantum masking that protects their identities. That’s why in my rewrite of the episode I had Chat Noir start to fall for it before Ladybug reminded him of the facts and knocked him out of it. It’s also for this reason that I had Alya mistakenly believe that Chat Noir was the Fairy King of Cats after he started dropping names related to such.

So, while she hasn’t completely learned her lesson yet, the first steps have been taken. She still has a ways to go on this point, this problem won’t start really being fixed until season 3-4 where she starts settling down out of fangirl mode and actually taking her journaling more seriously. By that point, she’ll be 14-15, have been a hero on the front lines of this war herself, and had suffered a few more wake-up calls that each move her a little further in the direction of a mature young woman who is competent at her job.

Next real problem, which is also in great part due to her age, is Alya’s inability to get out of her own head. I don’t mean that in a mean way, but children are horrible at seeing the big picture and truly empathizing with those around them. They lack the experience and they lack the basic brain development that lets them get out of their own head and really understand other people and the consequences to their actions. Alya’s still very much in that place where she goes “well, I can do it with no problem, so you should be able to as well!” Especially where Marinette is concerned. She can talk to Adrien easily, so Marinette should also be fine doing so. She comes from a large supportive and loving family who like any family that has many siblings is full of teasing and banter and she’s fine with it, so Marinette should have no problem with her making fun of her either. She doesn’t know of any commitments to Marinette’s time, so therefore Marinette can’t possibly be busy and if she says she is it’s only with sleeping.

The problem is that, in my story especially, Marinette’s past is that of a bullied child. And just like how Alya can’t get out of her own head to realize her and Marinette’s situations are different, children have a hard time getting out of their own heads to realize the long-term damage they’re doing to their target by bullying them. And as such, otherwise nice children can be downright cruel and torturous towards their target when swept up in the mob mentality and given basically a green light to do whatever they want to someone. Marinette is a very strong girl to be able to pull through something like that with an intact sense of right and wrong and a disposition of STILL wanting to help people. It’s why she was chosen as Ladybug, a hero to save the whole world from a megalomaniac. But it also means she’s not equipped to take friendly teasing. She is desperate to keep that one friend that she’s gotten after being alone for so long, so she’s not going to stand up for herself and tell Alya off for saying hurtful things, but for a self-esteem as fragile as Marinette’s is at the start of the series that doesn’t mean those sorts of things aren’t still counterproductive.

Now, don’t get me wrong: in no way is Alya trying to be mean to Marinette or reaffirm the kinds of harsh words her bullies used. But Alya doesn’t strike me as someone who’s been the target of long-term bullying before, given how confident and brazen she is. She doesn’t have a frame of reference for understanding the sorts of things Marinette faced while she was growing up or how her words cold be misconstrued. To Alya, she’s just being playful and treating Marinette as part of her family. To Alya, Marinette is as good as another sister, with all the love and bickering that goes along with it. But Marinette is an only child and didn’t grow up with sibling banter, so being treated like that doesn’t hold the same emotions for her that it does for Alya. Not yet at least.

This is further proven by the fact that in season 1, Marinette doesn’t ever really sass Alya back. She complains about Alya a few times behind her back to various individuals, but she’s not yet comfortable enough with the friendship to be snarky or put Alya in her place when Alya throws out a few lines like that making fun of Marinette over something. At this point in their relationship, Marinette is just taking it like a victim, and Alya doesn’t have the knowhow to be able to recognize this behaviour and alter her own.

And this sort of leads into her third main flaw: disregarding others personal boundaries. Alya is almost notorious for not listening when people tell her “no” and pushing on anyway because she wants something. Be that to quell her insatiable curiosity about something or seeing her best friend achieve her happily ever after with the boy of her dreams. When Alya wants something, she is relentless and nothing anyone else has to say or think on the matter means anything to her.

Ladybug’s life could be in danger because her identity was publicly revealed? Don’t care, I wanna know the answer to the secret so let’s all get excited together about figuring it out! Marinette’s on the verge of a panic attack, freaking out and spiralling because she’s not ready to take that next step in her relationship with Adrien yet? Don’t care, I wanna see my ship sail because it’s fun to get swept up in the drama of it all just like a real-life romcom so I’m gonna force it anyway! An akuma’s attacking and going near it could endanger her life and make Ladybug and Chat Noir’s job all the harder because they’re having to protect the kid that keeps running on to the battle field? Don’t care, I wanna live my dream and enjoy the excitement of seeing real lives superheroes fighting a real life supervillain and get loads of views on my blog while doing so! Marinette is being extremely insistent about a prior engagement that she’s trying very hard to keep secret? Don’t care, I wanna see my ship sail and any prior engagement is either a flat out lie or I demand to know all the deets because my best friend isn’t allowed to have anything in her life that is personal and private and I’m not intimately part of!

Admittedly, most of these sorts of problems stem from an honest desire in Alya to help out and make a difference in the world, mixed with her black-and-white morality and inability to get out of her own head, as well as her boundless thirst for knowledge about everything and anything that interests her. And while all of it (save perhaps the morality bit, but again, she’s still a child and kids tend to have trouble seeing the shades of gray between) it can be problematic at the levels she takes it to.

Do people occasionally need a push to get them to take the actions they really and truly desire to make their lives better? Sometimes, yes. But those pushes have to be situational and you have to be willing to listen to the person you’re giving a push to in order to understand if they really need a push or if they just need time. When Marinette was having troubles getting up the guts to actually hand Adrien his birthday present? Yeah, giving Marinette a bit of a push to get her actually out there and talking to the boy was the right call. Perhaps going out with her and helping lead the conversation might have made it easier on Marinette and actually guaranteed he got the gift, but she believed Marinette could do it on her own. Encouraging Marinette to stand up to Chloe in the Origins episode? Definitely okay, as Marinette more just needed to be assured that she wouldn’t be abandoned completely for putting her foot down than actually be pushed to stand up for herself as Alya more let Marinette take the lead and just followed her cues and gave her unwavering support in taking her chair back. Pressing the call button on Marinette’s phone when the girl is insisting she’s not ready to ask Adrien out yet and can’t read aloud the script she wrote her without even giving her the chance to read it over and prepare at all? Not cool. Dragging Marinette away from an actual job she’s supposed to be doing (babysitting Manon) in order to go out and stalk Adrien at his place of work? Again, not cool.

But for Alya to start learning her lesson about how much is okay to push and when, people really have to start putting their foot down and refusing to budge and pointing out Alya’s bad behaviour for what it is. And unfortunately, Marinette really isn’t the sort of person who is able to do that short of being pushed too far and blowing up with her lashing out. Alya’s gonna need someone else to teach her what is and is not okay as far as pushing other people to get her way, and someone other than Alya is going to have to be the one to be there for Marinette to let her know it’s alright to tell Alya to back off sometimes when she’s getting too pushy about things. Thankfully there’s an entire girlsquad to choose from, but friendships between the squad have to develop a bit more before something like that can start really taking affect.

So, basically in conclusion, while Alya may be a wonderful person on her own and even a pretty good friend, I don’t really think she’s the best friend a girl like Marinette needs. At least, not so early in their respective character arcs. With a bit of growth on both ends, they could develop into something closer to what each of them requires. Or they could diverge into a state of merely being friends instead of best friends as they each find other things to fill their time and other relationships to complete themselves with.

So then what other things are there for Alya? Well, most blatantly for anyone who’s seen canon is her relationship with Nino. I don’t know about most of you, but I recall when my friends first started dating, that first relationship they had seemed to consume like 90% of their mental capacity. Their dates, what it was like to kiss, how fast should they be moving, that one funny thing he said last week that they just have to share, etc. Dating Nino would be a very easy and convenient way to distract Alya away from Marinette and give the other girl a chance to grow and develop.

Another, rather obvious option, is to expand her social circle to include their other friends. The girlsquad already exists. It is there and waiting for the opportunity to interact. Mixing Alya with the others so that Alya can learn boundaries and such with characters that have more self-esteem like Alix or Rose who aren’t afraid to speak their minds and feelings to Alya over how she’s behaving towards them would be a good way to start her on the process of personal growth without leaving everything on Marinette’s shoulders to initiate. It would also let Marinette see that just because you’re friends you can still speak up for yourself without ruining everything, and that real friends won’t hold it against you or abandon you for doing so. It would let her see and know that such things are okay and she could then follow their examples to start building up some boundaries of her own that are then respected.

Alternately, there’s also fulfilling parts of Alya’s desires in order to keep her distracted somewhat form other parts which is sort of what I start doing in this upcoming chapter using AdriChat. While Adrien Agreste (TM) had to grow up dealing with everything that was involved in being Adrien Agreste (TM) (*cough*Gabriel*cough*), he also grew up with having Chloe as his one and only friend. He’s shown as Chat Noir that he knows how to throw down in a verbal spar, and being poster boy for the Gabriel Brand I’d be very surprised if he was also not coached on how to talk to reporters and give an endless non-answers to any number of inane questions. So as Chat Noir, having successfully pulled the wool over Alya’s eyes and making her believe he was King of the Cat Fairies, he approaches her again for assistance in his investigations into the identity of Papillon. Now Alya, being Alya, as soon as she decided that Chat Noir was a character from Celtic Mythology, of course then went and looked up everything there was to know about dealing with fairies. Including rules of conduct and warnings about behaviour.

So when Chat Noir hands her all his combined data that he’s collected so far, requesting her to help him compile it all and to store it safely, but on the condition that she not tell anyone, she is both excited enough for the opportunity as well as scared enough about not offending him that she doesn’t dare refuse. I mean, gifts from fae are never what they seem and the rules of the contract are to be followed to the letter or else horrible consequences can occur. As much as she wants this, she can’t go blabbing and spreading the information around, it’s also filled with people’s personal experiences at their lowest moments and as much as she’s nosy, she does still seem like she WANTS to be respectful of others and be a good person. So now she’s his junior detective/sidekick and ripe for a friendship to blossom between the two. After all, they have so much in common, it’s shocking they’re not shown more in the show as being friends. They’re both huge geeks about superheroes, both huge Ladybug fans, both brand new students at the school, etc.

#my fic #miraculous lb #miraculous fanworks #ml analysis #alya cesaire #long post #marinette and alya #not character salt #but pointing out character flaws #to discuss how character arcs and development will take place #ml season 1 #with a strong focus on my rewrite specifically #feel free to share your opinion #but keep the other hashtags in mind #especially the one about it being regarding MY fic and season 1 #critiquing the character is fine #but i'm not interested in your salty take on anyone #arguing my points is also fine if you keep it polite #tldr she's not a bad character or person or even friend she's just young and has some growing to do still

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indirys-wp · 3 months

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Far Horizons - Ch. 2 (Tsu'teyXfem!oc Avatar fic) regular posts on wattpad

FLIGHT excited Ruth Carson so much so that she insisted to be hanging from the door gunners position mid-flight, the wind battering against her face and sending her braid billowing at her back. Four avatars cramped into the SA-2 utility helicopter had been a challenge, but with Ruth and Jake willing to hang from either gaping window, sitting space remained available. This left Grace and Norm secured in the middle. Going about ten or so clicks outside of base, they were in search of particular samples.

Choosing to dress herself in cargo pants similar to that which she wore as a human, a green tank top embroidered with some random patterns and a backpack latched around her hips and shoulders, Ruth was ready to spend the late morning and afternoon in the forest.

More than once since they'd loaded into the aircraft did she notice Norm's gaze lingering on her a little longer than casual observance, ears perking anytime he thought she might be turning to speak to him. He'd been more timid upon their arrival but now had gained a sense of boldness she had no desire to deal with. She and Grace had shared a few looks after the instances during the flight, an unspoken understanding that the new doctor had already taken a liking to Ruth.

Far too many men had pursued her since arriving to Pandora, whether it be the military grunts or fellow scientist. Colonel Miles Quaritch, the marine senior officer at least fifteen years her senior, a prominent figure on the base, had made a move on her fairly early on into her arrival to the moon.

Since the interaction that had involved her vehement rejection of him, despite his willfulness, she'd made every effort to avoid the man since. No matter what his proposition was, not with his willfulness to accept her wishes.

She had learned quickly that he did not handle rejection well. Perhaps it was he innate desire to have control over anyone and everyone, possibly the reason he chose the military life. Or worse, he saw women as a conquest. That thought alone had left her with a particularly sour taste for the colonel at any given time. Regardless, the men in Hell's Gate pined for female attention.

Eyes squinted to bare against the wind, Ruth Carson gazed over the lush terrain of the forest. Her heart thudded with excitement, as it had been quite some weeks since they'd went to field.

With her focus of study primarily on the fauna of Pandora, the animals for simpler terms, one of Ruth's biggest goal was to finally spot and document the Thanatora Ferox — the apex land predator on the moon. Thanator, a word derived from the Greek word of death, she'd once read.

Perhaps best that she had never seen one in her three years of being here, some would consider it lucky. For her, the beast was a challenge. Not much was known of its anatomy, it's behavior except a few notable rituals that could be observed from a safe distance. Part of her never believed she'd get the opportunity. The Great Leonoptryx was a dream of every scientist on base to study. That flying creature was considered harder to find, let alone observe safety.

Upon finding a proper landing area under the canopy of the jungle, Trudy, the pilot that was designated to fly the avatar teams for research, brought them to a an area teaming with life. Animals called off in the distance, likely the primate-looking creatures known as Prolemurus that howled like earth's monkeys. Ruth hoped out from the gunner's window, head ducked down as she braced against the harsh window of the propellers.

Luckily, Grace told Trudy to cut the engine since they were staying a while, allowing for the forest to resume its natural ambience that was like music to Ruth's keen hearing. She glanced around at the area, a smile on her features as Jake wandered up to her side with Norm close behind.

"This is what I live for," she stated as she drew in a deep breath. What sunlight managed to slip through the canopy warmed her cyan-striped skin, the feeling comforting.

Jake and Norm gazed around, Ruth noticing the large machine gun grasped in the marine's grip as if it's mere presence was going to protect him indefinitely. "Try not to use that," the doctor teased him before stepping off, a swagger in her step and tail.

Soon enough, Ruth, Grace, and Norm we're beginning to run a few tests on the roots of the trees, studying the transduction on their hand held monitors. Ruth allowed Grace to teach Norm, as she was the leading doctor within the program. Her eyes wandering over to where Jake had begun to wander away and explore a bit, she grinned to herself to see his tail twitching in curiosity, head on a swivel. The body language of the avatars and Na'vi were fairly readable in one's ears and tail movements.

"So I hear fauna is more of your focus, Dr. Carson?" Norm asked Ruth, looking up while waiting on the test to run its course on the translucent tablet. Turning her attention away from the direction Jake had wandered in, she nodded.

"Yeah, I prefer it. Biology is fascinating in all of its areas, but the wildlife here intrigues me."

"She sat on one dire-horse during a visit with the clan," Grace grinned, teasing Ruth. "After that, her focus shifted." Ruth rolled her eyes at Grace's jab.

Norm seemed intrigued by the mention of the clan, looking between them both before asking, "Do we not have contact with the local clan anymore?"

Immediately, Grace and Ruth shared a look. Choosing to let her senior do the explaining, Ruth crossed her arms, ears pinned back. Grace sighed, pursing her lips before speaking.

"We had a school. We were teaching the Omaticaya English. Things happened. . . Terrible things. Since then, we haven't been welcome. They will not make contact with us. Reasonably so, unfortunately."

"The school isn't far off from our current location," Ruth added in. "We haven't been back since."

Norm's expression turned crestfallen, likely realizing he pushed a touchy subject. Before another word could be said between the three, an earth shattering roared jarred them to their feet. Ruth was the first to run in the direction Jake had likely disappeared.

"What has this jarhead got himself into?!" Ruth exclaimed fearfully, running. Rounding a tree, she suddenly skidded to a stop. Jake stood defensively, gun raised at the massive Hammerhead Titanothere displaying its chitinous fan-crest. It was a bull and a he was ready to defend his territory.

"Don't shoot— don't shoot you'll piss him off!" Grace was quick to tell Jake from where she, Ruth, and Norm stood behind the cover of the tree.

"He's already pissed off!" Jake's fear screamed in his tone. His eyes were wide, canines bared as he poised himself to take action.

"It's a territorial threat display," Ruth warned him, wide eyes darting back and forth between the bull and Jake. "If you shoot, he'll charge."

Jake scoffed, ears pinned to the sides of his head. "What, you want me to do the funky chicken with it?"

"Just hold your ground," Ruth ordered him. Almost instantly, the bull began to charge, sending Ruth nearly unleashing a cry before Jake offered his own challenge, raising the gun high and letting out a battle cry as he raced forward to face the massive beast.

Skidding to a stop, the Hammerhead's crest dropped as it let out a surrendering huff. Jake, victorious, let out a laugh. The bull turned, running back toward the members of its herd in the near distance.

"Yeah! That's what I'm talking bitch. Run your little punk ass back to mommy," Jake taunted the Hammerhead as it retreated.

Jake's enthusiasm might have been amusing, causing Ruth to blush in attraction if it hadn't been for the dread that immediately fell over her once her eyes landed on the black figure menacingly stalking it's way into view behind the marine. Flaring it's sensory quills and lip flaps, a low growl rumbled in its throat.

Jake's expression turned to pure terror once he turned to see the Thanator at his back. Ruth flinched once the beast landed on the forest floor with a thundering boom after leaping over Jake. The feline-like animal let out a defining roar at the Hammerheads before ultimately turning its attention to Jake, prowling with its large, swaying tail.

"What about this one— run, don't run?" Jake quickly asked as the predator inched closer.

"Run," Ruth quickly told him. "Definitely run!"

Jake was sprinting off into the forest within moments, the Thanator trailing after him in a deadly pursuit.

Ruth, Norm, and Grace remained quiet for a few very long moments, the three of them stunned. Ruth's initial reaction was to chase after him, find his dumb ass before he found himself dead. Yet, she had hardly any experience with weapons, having taken the mandatory class on the firearms that all personnel on Hell's Gate had to learn to handle.

She stopped herself in the middle of the clearing he'd been standing in, tail twitching anxiously.

"We have to go after him," she stated immediately, turning toward Grace and Norm with her tail flicking. She was confused when she saw Grace's frown. "What?"

"His chances of escaping the Thanator are slim to none as is," Grace stated grimly. "And given the chance he does survive, he knows nothing about survival here. We're risking our own lives while still remaining on the ground as is. We need to get back to the aircraft. We can continue our search in flight."

As much as Ruth wanted to disregard Grace's orders as the senior member, she shrugged off her anxiety and followed them back to the equipment to begin quickly packing before they'd return to the helicopter.

Nearly three hours of them searching for him, binoculars from both sides of the window as they scanned what they could in hopes of catching sight of the marine. The chances of finding him were looking slim to none. Until eventually time ran out.

"Is there no infrared on these things? Nothing to pick him up from under the canopy?" Ruth asked Trudy over the radio, the worry heavy in her time. "Was he not given any sort of comms?" She asked rhetorically.

"It's getting too late. Colonel ordered no night ops. He's gonna have to wait until morning," Trudy told them over the radio. Ruth sneered at the mention of Quaritch, ears pinned back.

Grace let out a heavy sigh as the path of flight began to change back towards base. "He won't make it till morning."

•••

RUTH was immediately at Jake's link unit the moment she was able to leave her own. Grace was already there, Norm and a few others of the avatar team waiting anxiously as Grace tried to wake Jake, a flash light moving a crossed his vision. He appeared unconscious still, eyes open yet unmoving. Ruth shoved her way to the side of the link, peering down at him.

"Jake," Grace kept saying over and over in hopes of producing some sort of reaction out of him. "Jake, wake up."

Impatiently, Ruth waited until the life came back into his eyes and his breathing seemed to catch up. She helped Grace lift him up into a sitting position. "Is the avatar safe?" She immediately asked him.

He grinned like a fool, looking between them both. "Yea, dog. And you're not gonna believe where I am."

"Apparently you're not dead, then," Ruth muttered, rolling her eyes. "I told you to not let that five billion dollar body go to waste."

"I think I put that price tag into good use," Jake smirked at Ruth. "The clan. They found me. They're gonna teach me their ways, apparently."

Ruth froze, realizing the opportunity she'd been praying to happen had finally come. A way back in with the clan, with the people she's grown to love. The change in pace coming so fast.

"How even...?" Ruth muttered half to herself.

"Chiefs daughter found me. Neytiri," Jake pronounced her name wrong but sent Ruth's heart leaping regardless. She'd missed Neytiri dearly. It'd been over two years since she'd last seen her. "She was gonna kill me, I guess. But took me to their tree instead."

"Holy shit," Grace exclaimed, accentuating each syllable. Her brown eyes looked to Ruth, who held the same opportunistic expression. "It appears we can finally try to rebuild our relationship with them."

Once Jake had recovered enough, dinner was being served so they made their way toward the cafeteria. Ruth was still beaming with excitement as she imagined getting to return to Hometree, where she could visit those she'd missed over the passed two years. She'd only gotten to be present for the schoolhouse for a little over eight months after arriving to Pandora, but she'd built remarkable relationships with some of the clan members. Notably Neytiri. And her sister.

"The last thing we see is this marine's ass disappearing into the brush with the angry Thanator after him," Grace told the other scientist as they all ate, intrigued by the day's events. They huddled around the chow table, excited to hear what had happened.

"I'm still on the fence with reasons why the Omaticaya chose you," Ruth jabbed at him as she took a bite of her food. Either way, she was grateful. Jake provided them with an opportunity they had previously thought would never occur.

"And not only that, Ruth was ready to run in after him," Grace exclaimed, smiling. "You two are a diabolical duo. You're gonna get yourselves killed."

Those in attendance to the story all laughed and chattered about the excitement and thrill of it all. Ruth hummed a laugh at her mentors joke about her persistence to save Jake before she caught his gaze from a crossed the table. She diverted her attention away, heat filling her cheeks.

#farhorizons #avatar oc #tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan #avatar the way of water #avatar fic #there will be smut #james cameron avatar

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unseededtoast · 8 months

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Rectify | Bucky Barnes

Part 33/37 | Part Thirty Two, Part Thirty Four

Summary: I've lived every day for the past five years looking over my shoulder. I knew they'd come for me, it was inevitable. I was foolish to think I could outrun my past. It's followed me everywhere I go, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Never would I have anticipated that the shadows would lead me to the light.

Bucky Barnes x OC

Series Warnings: Discussion of human trafficking, alcohol consumption, graphic depictions of violence, sexual content, discussion of suicidal thoughts.

a/n: Hi everyone, thank you for checking this out, I appreciate any and all support! This series is also posted on Ao3 and Wattpad if you prefer those formats/platforms! This is a completed series, and it's going to take some time for me to transfer it to Tumblr, so please bear with me!

This all could have been avoided.

The door opens and there stands Steve in the doorway. His face gives me no indication of how this is going to go. Feigning confidence, I walk back out into the room, seeing Wanda and Bucky also. I give them a quick glance before Fury's voice cuts the silence,

"The council has come to a decision." I hear my heart beat and feel like my feet are superglued to the floor.

"All in favor of sentencing Adalyn Averina to life in prison without the possibility of parole reads as follows: Tony Stark, Secretary Ross, and Councilwoman Hawley." As the words leave his mouth my heart shatters. I look over to Bucky quickly and it looks as if he could go on a killing spree.

"Why? Didn't you listen to anything? She saved us!" Bucky cries out to the council. Secretary Ross stands from his seat,

"We heard everything loud and clear. At the end of the day Miss Averina illegally took two Shield detainees, failed to go through the chain of command, and disappeared for days. Not to mention one of the detainees died. We cannot let those actions go without consequences." His voice is firm.

I feel my hands be pulled behind my back, my injured arm bursting with pain. I set my jaw tight as I'm led out of the room without another word. Of course they would listen to Tony and what he wants. However, it's comforting to know Steve didn't vote for my sentence, I'm sure Tony is beyond thrilled with him for that.

I'm taken back through the room Nat first brought me to and led through the halls. I keep my head high, not letting anyone see how heartbroken and scared I truly am. Going to the Raft doesn't seem like it's going to be a walk in the park. However, I'm certain I'll be able to handle anything that awaits. I've already been through hell and back, so what's one more trip?

I'm put in the back of a truck and the door is closed. They're wasting no time in shipping me off I guess. The back of the truck is dark, everything is cold. I hear the engine start up and I take a deep breath. I wish they would've let me say goodbye to Bucky first. My eyes prick with tears as reality sets in, I'll never see him again. At least I was able to bring him justice, make him a free man. I'll always treasure and reminisce on our memories, the short amount of time we had.

The truck lurches forward as it starts the journey to my new home. I tap my foot on the floor of the truck to try and hype myself up for whatever awaits. I'm sure only the worst of the worst is being kept in a place named the Raft. I wish they would have sent me to Rikers instead.

I don't think I should be the only one serving a sentence, and that this one is a little overboard. As Bucky said before I was taken away, I saved them. I didn't break out Wanda and Pietro for my own gain. If I hadn't taken them from the Shield base it's likely that Tony's maniacal robots would've found them and exploited them. I have Bruce to thank, but I know I'll probably never see him again either. Being lost in space seems like a permanent situation to me.

I feel the truck stop moving. I hear footsteps come to the door and latches start being undone. The bright light blinds me as I feel hands rip me from the back of the truck. I squint in the sunlight, this may be the last time I see it. I'm pushed forward and start walking, seeing a helicopter in front of me. I step inside and get strapped in.

Moments later, we're flying hundreds of feet off the ground. I watch the ground beneath me, taking in the scenery of the city below. The sunlight reflects off the windows, creating a beautiful scene. I sigh to myself, trying to commit to memory the way the breeze smells, how warm the sun feels on my skin. The helicopter takes us to the middle of a body of water, are they going to throw me in there? Is that why it's a life sentence without parole?

I watch as the water begins churning and a building comes up out of the waves. That's a first. The helicopter lands on the top of the building and I'm dragged out. I'm taken down into the building and notice the dreary atmosphere. Everything is concrete, the lights are fluorescent. It all feels very artificial and monotonous. This is going to get old fast.

I'm led to a counter with a woman sitting behind it, typing on a computer. She looks up from the screen and sizes me up.

"Here for booking?" She asks.

"Yes ma'am." The man behind me speaks. She nods her head and walks around the counter.

"I got her from here boys." She says and pushes my back so I go forward.

I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go but I'm sure she'll make sure I go to the right place. She takes me to a room that has a height scale painted on the wall, I'm getting booked in. She undoes my handcuffs and I bring my arms in front of me, rubbing my aching shoulder. However, my hands aren't free for long as she restrains them in front of my body this time. I follow the woman over to a pedestal that has an ink pad and paper on it. I give her my hand and she takes my fingerprints.

I step back and wait for further instructions, not sure how this all works. She points to the wall with the height markers on it and I stand up against it. The lady walks over to another table and picks up a board. She writes some information on it with a white marker before handing it to me. I read what the board says. It's a string of letters and numbers followed by my name, the date is located on the bottom.

I hold the board in front of me and look into the camera as the woman presses the button. The flash is blinding and leaves floating specks in my vision. The woman grabs the board from my hands and leads me to the adjoining room.

"Strip." She says and uncuffs my hands. My eyebrows shoot up. Surely she doesn't want me to undress in front of her, right?

"Come on I don't have all day." She says, motioning for me to speed it up. I push the embarrassment from my mind and take off my clothes.

"All of it." She says as I stand before her in nothing but my underwear. I mentally block out what's happening and take off my underwear, leaving me completely exposed.

"Squat and cough." She says and instead of thinking about it, I just do it to get it over with quickly. I stand back up as soon as I cough and she opens a closet next to me. She turns around and looks me up and down before grabbing some of the clothes. She hands me a blue shirt and matching pants. I put my underwear back on, followed by the new uniform.

"Ready to see your new place? I think you're gonna love it. Everyone else here does." She says with a laugh, taking me to the cell block.

I step through the door and take in the environment. The room is circular, and people dressed in the same uniform as me look out of their cells at me. I avoid meeting their eyes and focus on the lady in front of me. She opens a door and I walk into it, she closes it behind me. The woman walks away, leaving me in the empty cell.

I look around and see a narrow, uncomfortable looking bed in the room. That's it. I sigh, I guess I'll have to deal with it. It's not like I should've been expecting a five-star hotel. I sit on the narrow bed and look out to the others, who I can see staring at me.

To my left is an ordinary looking man, dark hair and eyes. To my right is a woman, she's tall and slender. Across the way is another woman. None of these people seem particularly dangerous. But I guess neither do I. I look away from them and rub my hands together, the ink from earlier flaking off of my skin.

I put my head in my hands, this place is going to drive me insane. There's nothing to do, nobody to talk to. I'm just alone with my thoughts. I can tell I'm going to go stir crazy in here. Not to mention, we're underwater. It's worse than the bunker. I thought being stuck underground was the worst possible thing to happen, but this is ten times worse. At least I had Bucky in the bunker, now I just have the thoughts and memories of him.

I hope he's going to be okay. I know Steve will take care of him, I think Wanda will as well. I sniffle as I think about what may be in store for him. I know Shield is going to try to throw him right back into the fighting lifestyle, the one he wants to be free from. I hope he'll be okay and that he gets all of his memories back. I pray he never has another memory affect him like the Stark memory did.

It hasn't even been a full day and I miss him so terribly. I miss his smile, his liveliness. I miss everything about him, and my heart aches so badly. My lip quivers as I stare at the white floor. This isn't how things were supposed to end. Bucky and I were supposed to get out of all of this and live peacefully. I'll never get out of it now, but maybe he will.

Maybe he'll be able to get out and find somewhere nice to live. Somewhere away from people, a secluded place he can call his own. Who knows, maybe he'll find someone and have a family. It hurts knowing that can't be our future together, but at the end of the day I just want him to be happy. I want him to be able to move on and fulfill his wishes.

Tears drip from my cheeks on to the floor, hitting with a small tapping sound. Why did Tony have to do this? Couldn't the council see I did everything to keep people safe? I tried to save them from the monstrosity Tony created. The same monstrosity I warned him against. If he didn't have a personal vendetta against me and actually listened to what I had to say, listened to reason, this all could have been avoided.

If Tony had just waited for me to get back Pietro would still be alive, Bruce would still be here. I blame the death of Pietro and disappearance of Bruce on Tony alone. I shouldn't be paying the price for his mistakes. I know what I did was wrong, and there are consequences for what I did but I think Tony should also be sitting in here for unleashing the Ultron protocol on the world. He had an underdeveloped knowledge of the technology and made a faulty decision, one he was told to carefully consider.

There are a few choice things I'd like to say to Tony if I ever see him again, which is unlikely. I just hope he ends his power trip with me, and doesn't also try to go after Bucky. I know Steve took a deal, but I'm fairly certain Steve didn't hold up his end of the bargain, he wasn't in favor of this sentence. Who knows what Tony will do. The last thing I want is for Bucky to also be here, he's been a prisoner for most of his life, he doesn't deserve to be one once more.

Time will only tell what will happen. I'm powerless here, left to my own devices. I'm sequestered from the world. I doubt they have any activities for us to do here, we're probably just trapped in here full time. This isn't good for anyone's mental health. I can only imagine how long the others have been here and how it's affected them. I suppose I'll find out soon enough.

Home sweet home.

#bucky barnes x oc #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #hydra #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fic #james buchanan barnes #marvel #steve rogers #winter soldier #the winter soldier #bucky barnes angst

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timotheechlamett · 3 years

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STEP-LOVER

WARNINGS: step-brother/sister relations, daddy kink?, praise kink.

Timothée Chalamet x Fem OC/Reader.

_________________________________

My earliest memory is at about 2 or 3 years old, my father was trying to teach me a new word.

"Look at me, look at Daddy-" He gives a tickle to my side catching my attention, "Can you say water?"

I stared at him for a moment before mumbling, "Wabah?" A puzzled look on my face.

He gave a hearty chuckle at my butchered pronunciation, but praised me anyways.

As I grew older all I can remember about him is that he was colder towards me, almost like he didn't really know how to love me anymore.

Now any male, who's even remotely attractive, that gives me the slightest bit of attention or praise for anything, I latch onto them. Which brings me to my current issue.

It's completely ludicrous the feelings I possess towards Timothée. Well I wouldn't say feelings plural, more so one particular feeling.

Lust.

I certainly didn't help my own case by staring every chance I could, or the fact he never wears a shirt around the house, or that he is completely and utterly the most beautiful human being to roam this earth.

He walks into the kitchen grabbing a cup from the cabinet, with a turn of his head we make eye contact and he grins, “Morning.”

“Morning.” I give a closed grin back, picking a piece of French toast up with my fork.

God, that jawline kills me every time. But that's besides the point.

It wasn't a type of lust I had felt before, he invaded every single thought that I had. I dreamt about him, I fantasized about him daily in my journal, I wear revealing clothes every day in hopes of him making a move on me. The only problem is that he's my step-brother.

Yes, my newly wed father's wife's son is my current infatuation.

“Where are they?” He asks turning the tap on.

“Some brunch thing at Brandy’s, they left not too long ago.” I drop my head staring at my half eaten breakfast.

“Jesus, does she ever give herself a break from hosting?” He gives a scoff, looking my direction once more.

Still looking down at my plate I give a toothy grin at his remark, “If you lived her life, would you?” I look up meeting his gaze.

“Good point.” He finishes his glass of water setting the cup in the sink, leaning against it.

“How long will they be gone?” He inquires.

“It’s Brandy, probably all day.” I dump my leftovers in the trash and turn to the sink cleaning my dish, I can feel the heat from his bare chest on my upper arm.

His eyes burn into the side of my head as I rinse my plate, I could feel a nervous sweat starting up from the intensity.

“Yes Timothée?” I question placing my now clean dish on the rack.

“Do you have plans today?” He entraps me with his arms on either side of my body as I turn to face him.

I look up at him, “No, why?” It comes out a little quieter than I would’ve liked, my heart beat picking up.

A snarky smile plays on his face and he pushes himself off the counters edge, walking away, his sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips.

“Come.” He beckons, walking up the steps.

Curiosity getting the best of me I follow him up the stairs slowly. He opens my bedroom door stepping inside, waiting for me to get closer to him.

“What exactly are you do-“

He pulls me in before closing the door and facing me again. He takes a couple steps towards me, our bodies a mere inch apart as he’s looking down on me.

“I thought we could hang out, sis.” He twirls a piece of my hair between his fingers, “You said you didn’t have plans.”

I do my best to breathe normally, he’s never been this close to me let alone touch me in any way. The whole scene is like something out of my journal, I must be in a dream.

“W-well what do you want to do?” I say quietly, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks and my pussy.

He drops the piece of hair and takes my wrist gently in his hand, leading me to my bed. He sits on the edge pulling me with him.

“Lie down.” He looks me in the eyes.

What.

“W-what?” I stutter trying to maintain eye contact.

“Lie. Down.” He says slower, more intimidating.

Slowly I bring my legs onto the duvet and lay down with my hands at my sides. He scoots back and lays beside me, turning on his side with his head propped up on his hand.

“This..Is this us hanging out to you?” I send a puzzled look his way.

He’s quiet for a second, “Have you ever been with a boy before?”

I feel my pussy tingle more intensely.

A shocked expression on my face, “What?!”

“Have you ever been-“

“Timothée! I heard you, but what the fuck??”I sit up staring at him wide eyed, my folds now throbbing.

This is not fucking happening. He did not just ask me that.

“I know by the way.” His face blank of emotion.

There’s a beat of silence.

“I don’t follow?” My heart rate picks up again.

He stares at me for a moment before his lips part into a smirk.

“What? Do you think I don’t see the looks you give me? That I haven’t read the dirty things you’ve written about your ‘infatuation’, I know it’s me.”

My heart drops and the blood drains from my face.

“Or hear you when you touch yourself late at night.” He gets close to my face.

Kill me, please.

I feel like I could throw up, cry, and die at the same time, my fantasy has now become a nightmare I can’t wake up from. Embarrassment courses through my veins and I feel myself getting teary eyed.

“No it- That’s not- I promise it’s not.“

“Shh, it’s okay.” He coos, “It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.” He caresses the back of my head running his thumb along the side of my face.

I can’t even form any words seeing as I am completely and utterly mortified right now.

“I notice a lot of things about you. You caught my attention long before now.” His voice laced with seduction, “You think I haven’t thought about you too?”

I study his face trying to see if there’s any sign he’s messing with me but, he’s completely serious.

“Have you ever been with a boy before?” He asks again softly, releasing me and propping himself on his elbow.

“Once.” I whisper out slightly embarrassed, my core fluttering.

He moves my hair from my face, lingering in the strands, “Get undressed.”

I slowly bring my hands up to remove my tank top off as well as my shorts, hesitantly sliding my underwear down over my ankles. There’s fire in my cheeks as I’m completely bare in front of him for the first time. My core burning just the same as my face. I lie back down next to him.

“So fucking beautiful.” He whispers, bending my knees slightly, watching my face, his hand trickling down my thigh.

He circles his thumb around my bundle of nerves still watching me. I drop my eyes to his movements, a heavy sigh leaving my lips as he uses his middle and ring finger to assault my swollen and soaking clit further.

He moves in between my parted legs, replacing his fingers with his tongue. Licking and sucking just enough, I try to hold my moans by biting my bottom lip, he inserts his finger with ease. Pumping slowly and curling it upwards as he devours my pussy.

“You taste so fucking good, mon trésor.” He hums against my heat.

Unable to stifle myself any longer I let out a drawn out whine twisting my fingers in his hair. I open my legs further letting his face plant deeper into my core as I feel my climax approaching quickly.

He inserts another finger making me sigh out in ecstasy, my muscles tighten around them as I writhe about pushing his face deeper. I try to form something to say but can’t, the feeling he’s giving me making it impossible to speak.

Just before I’m about to reach my high he pulls away completely, I moan out at the empty feeling, my legs numb already and my body floating.

“P-please I-“ I breathe out but can’t finish.

“Patience kitten.”

He starts to remove his bottoms and I find the courage to help him take off his briefs, starting to bring my mouth to the head of his length. He stops me in my tracks.

“No.” I give him a strange look, “I’m here to please you.” He pushes me backwards so I lie down on my pillow once more.

He hovers about, taking in every detail of me. His lips ghosting above my own, he plants soft kisses over and over.

“Do you want this?” His voice hushed and full of question.

“Do you?” I whisper.

“More than anything, but I don’t want to force you.”

I run my hands down his arms, taking in our current situation. Having sex had never been this intimate for me.

“I do want this. So bad.” My eyes meet his.

He lowers himself to kiss my parted lips, his length pushing against my already soaked mound. He doesn’t break the kiss as he teases my opening with the head of his dick, ever so slowly. I gasp once more at the contact arching my hips up in hopes of helping him enter.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He taunts.

“Tim.” I whine with pleading eyes.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He peppers kisses on my chest and neck.

“Please fuck me, please. I need you.” I almost cry out, in both desperation and arousal.

He lines himself up with my slit pushing in slowly, making me feel every inch. I wince at the initial pain of his thick shaft. He brings my hands up above my head interlocking his own fingers with mine until he’s bottomed out deep into my pussy.

“You’re doing so good, mon amour.” He moves back and pushes forward again, “So fucking tight. Such a good girl.” He groans watching me, his lips parted

I dig my nails into his hands only able to gasp at the pressure, the pain subsiding as he pulls himself in and out gently and slowly. A wave of pleasure engulfs my entire body and I let soft moans out.

“Timothée-“ I pant in question.

“Amour?” He sighs in pleasure.

“Faster, please.”

He wastes no time moving his hips quicker, not going harder than before as I adjust to his cock. My moans become uncontrollably loud, I throw my head back deep into the pillow. He lets go of one hand to grip my neck gently, forcing me to face him. He slides deeper into my core hitting just the right spot sending me into a frenzy.

“Fuck! Right there, d-don’t stop-“ I moan loudly.

“Mmm, right there?” He thrusts harder in the same motion, deep moans leaving his throat.

I feel the muscles wrapped around him tighten like iron, my wetness dripping down the both of us as I start to feel overwhelmed.

“Tim- I can’t- It’s too much, it’s-“ I drag out whining.

“It’s okay mon ange, let go. You’re okay.” He supports the back of my head so I’m forced to let him see me unwind.

One. Two. Three thrusts and I completely unravel before him. My eyes roll in the back of my head and I grip his sides with my nails, dragging them down, my walls nearly crush his length as he continues pumping.

“Timothée!” I scream his name over and over as I finally release.

“That’s my girl, cum on my dick.” He growls and gives a throaty moan as his strokes become sloppy.

He thrusts a few more times letting me ride out my own high before he reaches his, pulling out and finishing on my stomach. He collapses onto me, both of us catching our breath and recovering from the events that have taken place.

He gets up going into my bathroom before bringing out a warm towel to clean both of us off. He throws it to the side and drops next to me nuzzling his face into my neck playing with my hair once more.

“Did that really just happen?” I croak, feeling high from the whole account.

“Yes.” He chuckles, “And I don’t see a stop to it any time soon.” He plants tender kisses to my jaw.

We share a gaze before he locks his lips with mine in a passionate kiss before pulling away and gripping my chin to look at him.

“You’re mine now.

And I was.

Completely his and no one else’s.

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