#us uncles have to stick together

[muffinlance]

I was wondering... Is there a Salvage headcanon where they did break Zuko's leg? If no one (including you ofc) ever did it, you can treat it as a prompt!!

So many angsty possibilities, and as much as I love and adore the original plot.... man, I'm so curious what would happen.

So what I’m hearing is that you like pain. Who am I to deny you?

(You can also read this on AO3.)

* * *

“Chief?” Aake repeated, kneeling over the still struggling boy. Pinning him down. 

The prince wasn’t even fully lucid, and this was already his second escape attempt. He’d tried to firebend at Hakoda’s crew, with only his own fever to stop him. He was a child, by any reasonable standards; but a soldier, by his own nation’s, with the training to match. He was only going to get more dangerous. If the Fire Nation wanted to set the terms of this war, then be it on Ozai’s head. 

“One,” Hakoda said. One leg had to be enough, to keep the young soldier down.

* * *

When Zuko’s fever broke, he had a black bruise around his wrist the size of a grown man’s hand, and a broken leg the storm hadn’t given him. 

He had to get off this ship.

* * *

The prince knocked out two of Hakoda’s men. Sent another three to Healer Kustaa, with firebending that had thankfully been more concussive than blistering. Oh, and he’d managed to shove one of their tenders overboard. So now they were having to turn around to search for that, in the dark.

He’d half-way gotten himself overboard, too. It was anyone’s guess whether he’d have landed close enough to that boat to make it, with the weight of his cast dragging him down. 

A moot point, as he struggled in Aake’s grip.

“I did say legs,” the man joked, humorlessly.

Hakoda tried to meet the prince’s eyes, but the soldier was too intent on battering himself against Aake’s hold. He met his crewman’s eyes, instead. Nodded.

Aake sighed. “Right. This is happening, kid. Hold still this time if you want it to be clean.”

The prince, eerily, did hold still. He didn’t scream. He hadn’t last time, either.

* * *

(Father hadn’t stopped burning him until he’d stopped screaming.)

* * *

“It’s coca-poppy, Prince Zuko,” Healer Kustaa said, from behind a re-locked door. “It will help with the pain.”

“I know what it is,” the prince shouted. “I don’t want it.”

Across the passageway, behind the door of his own cabin, Hakoda composed another ransom letter. This one ended up crumpled on his floor, too.

How did you tell a father that you’d broken both his boy’s legs? Things would be easier if— 

Well. They still had that interrogation to get through, before he saw whether there’d be an if.

* * *

“She was alive when I last saw her. Your son, too. Sir.”

“...With the Avatar,” Hakoda repeated.

“Yes,” the prince said, staring up at the sickbay ceiling. “...Sir.”

Hakoda rubbed his temples. “I’ll be confirming your story. Until then: ship rules. You already know the price of escape. You have two more limbs, Prince Zuko; take more care with them. Firebend at my men again, or damage my ship, and your chances are done. You’re going to stay in here and obey every order our healer gives you, or I’ll be back in for another talk. Am I clear?”

“Yes. Sir.”

Sweat was beading on the prince’s forehead. His hands kept clenching and unclenching around his blankets. Let him be in pain, if he wanted; Kustaa had already offered him an out.

* * * 

The doctor on Zuko’s ship had started him on coca-poppy before he’d known he was on a ship. Before he remembered what had happened, before his vision was clear enough to read the banishment notice for himself. Uncle had fussed over every little sound he made, and made sure Zuko drank every dose.

It took him a year and a half to get back off it.

* * *

Kustaa had prescribed at least an hour on deck each day. Firebenders and sunlight, or something. The prince sullenly allowed himself to be carried by a crewman and propped up out of the way. 

Panuk watched him watching the waves. He went below deck, and came back with a plate. Set it on the deck between them, and sat himself down next to it.

“Drowning is not a pretty way to go,” he said conversationally, between bites of smoked fish the prince was pointedly not sharing.

“Is being murdered by savages any better?” the prince snapped, finally looking away from the water. 

Panuk chewed. Swallowed. Used his foot to nudge the plate against the prince’s leg. Above the break, obviously.

“Are you going to eat?”

The prince looked… really confused. He looked down at the plate, then back up at Panuk, then around them, like he was looking for a net about to fall.

Which explained why he’d snubbed Toklo yesterday, when their youngest crewman had tried to have lunch with him.

“It’s common to share meals in the Southern Tribes,” Panuk said. “If someone sets a plate down next to you, it’s probably for sharing.”

“...Oh,” said the prince. He picked up a piece. Ate it, slowly, while sneaking glances over at Panuk. Ate the second a lot faster.

“We’d make it quick,” Panuk said. “If your dad doesn’t meet Hakoda’s demands, or if you screw up again. Quicker than the ocean would, at least.”

“...I don’t want the Leg Breaker to do it. Or the Chief.”

“I could volunteer. If it comes to it.”

“...Okay,” the prince said, and ate a third fish. And a fourth. 

“How old are you, anyway?” Panuk asked, eyebrow raised.

Prince Zuko, fearsome prisoner of the Akhlut, was sixteen years old. 

* * *

Prince Zuko, sixteen-year-old prisoner of the Akhlut, was bored.

“What?” he snapped at the healer, who’d stopped to give him that disappointed stare.

“How did you even reach that?” the man asked.

Zuko hunched over his borrowed book, and didn’t answer.

“Ask next time. I’ll help you get them down.”

Then the man went back to doing whatever it was he did in here, with all his powders and ointments. Maybe Zuko would understand, if he read far enough.

“Ask if you have questions, too,” Not-Uncle said.

…So Zuko did.

* * *

General Fong wanted the kid. General Fong wanted a lot of things he couldn’t have.

We have secured his cooperation, Hakoda wrote back. While I thank you for your offer, we do not anticipate the need for army assistance during the negotiation process—

* * * 

Hakoda tried not to go into the healer’s cabin without cause. It was unpleasant, the way the boy spooked every time a crewman stepped in. The way he watched them with those wolf-hawk eyes, coiled like a pit-viper-leopard ready to spring, broken legs or no. But the door was open, and…

“Just pet him. Come on, one itty-bitty little ruffle-wuffle…” Toklo cajoled, pushing a growling isopuppy towards the prince’s face.

“No. He’s going to maul me,” the prince snapped, holding one of Kustaa’s medical texts between them like a shield.

“That was not a mauling,” said Panuk. “That was barely one itty-bitty little blood-draw. Just shove the seal jerky between his teeth when he lunges, then pet him. We’ll train him that you mean food—”

“How is that going to help with the biting?” the prince demanded.

Hakoda backed away before he could be seen. 

…Apparently there were exceptions, in who the prince himself wouldn’t maul. 

* * *

Apparently Hakoda’s dog was now one of those exceptions.

Fire Nation sympathizer.

* * * 

Bato came back.

“So,” his second-in-command said. “Fire Prince in the sickbay, huh?”

Hakoda groaned into his hands.

* * *

“Did you name the dog?” the prince asked Bato. The kid was sitting up in his bed, propped up on pillows, draped in at least three layers of furs and an oversized coat. Which explained where Kustaa’s had gone. He was, inexplicably, holding one of Kustaa’s medicine jars between his hands.

“Interrogating the prisoner already, nephew?” Kustaa asked, setting out the last of his supplies. Then he reached for the bandages. Bato braced himself.

“Did you?” the kid said. And then, after a delay: “You are not my uncle.”

“At least wait for the torture to get started,” Bato said, through gritted teeth, as Kustaa tugged the edge of his bandage loose in what was probably the gentlest way but felt anything but. 

He couldn’t have said if the prince kept pressing the matter, after that. Not until Kustaa was spreading on that miracle salve of his. In its tiny jar. Its tiny, near-empty jar.

“...Are we out of that stuff?” Bato asked, with some trepidation.

“We’re making more,” Kustaa said.

…The jar between the kid’s hands was steaming now. And he was still scowling.

“He volunteered,” the healer added, cleaning up.

Huh.

“I was making fun of Hakoda,” Bato said. “Not his son. Sokka’s a good kid.”

“So name the dog Hakoda,” the Fire Prince said, with a scowling seriousness that made the joke even better. 

* * *

“Good boy, Hakoda. Who’s our Chief Woofer? Is it you? Is it you? Yes it is!”

“I hate you,” Hakoda said. “Go back to the nuns.”

The pupper thumped his tail against the deck, and barked for more jerky. Who was Bato to deny his chief?

* * *

“Wait,” Bato said, stretching his burned arm out slowly, and staring at the newest medicine pot the kid was heating. “Didn’t Hakoda order you not to bend?”

He’d never seen golden eyes that wide, or a pot boil over that fast.

* * *

“So,” Bato said, leaning against Hakoda’s doorway. “You ordered the kid not to firebend, but you also ordered him to follow Kustaa’s orders. Guess what Kustaa’s had him doing?”

“He what,” Hakoda said, standing. He marched across the hall, to where his healer was rubbing some kind of salve on their prisoner’s hands. “You have him firebending?”

Somehow, the kid’s eyes got even wider.

* * *

So. It turned out the prince needed to meditate. Badly.

* * *

The Fire Lord’s first reply arrived. Hakoda took in some meditative breaths of his own, then made sure the isopuppy followed him across to the healer’s cabin. 

“Prince Zuko,” he said. Levelly. Reasonably. After his dog had jumped up into the kid’s arms. “Can you tell me why your father thinks the letter you sent him was a forgery?”

“It wasn’t,” the prince said, like that was the issue.

Hakoda pinched the bridge of his nose. 

* * *

They needed proof of life. Proof they had the kid at all. 

The Fire Lord’s son got a haircut. 

Hakoda would have had Aake do it, but Panuk volunteered. Their second-youngest crewman and the prince had a brief stare off, before the prince lowered his head for the knife. Panuk did it in one slice; handed it off to Hakoda, without looking at him. Then he sat down behind the kid, and tidied up the cut. The prince had already been growing stubble over the rest of his scalp; it was just a matter of evening it out.

Hakoda sent the long phoenix plume with his next reply.

* * * 

The Fire Lord responded with fingers. 

* * *

The kid saved Kustaa’s life. Had the burns to show for it, too. 

* * *

He still expected Hakoda to take his.

Maybe in some other life, Hakoda would have known how to reassure him. In this one, he stepped out of his cabin, and sent in his dog and Kustaa.

* * *

It was… unpleasant, having someone on his ship that was afraid of him. Someone who wasn’t an enemy.

The kid could walk around now, some, with the crutches their ship’s carpenter had made for him. His burns were healing well; Bato had inducted him into the Burned Arm Club, which had an elite membership of two. No, the prince insisted, the time Toklo had accidentally burned himself on a ship’s lamp didn’t count. This, despite his own protests over the club’s very existence. 

He’d started yelling at the crewmen who—quote—wasted medical supplies by doing the same stupid things to themselves again—end quote. 

He didn’t even avoid Aake, though the Leg Breaker name had stuck, and spread amongst the crew.

“I understand the chain of command,” the kid said, stiffly, when Hakoda had asked. 

It had been Aake’s suggestion. But it had been Hakoda’s orders.

Hakoda watched the kid brought to tears over sea prunes. To laughter, when Bato figured out he was ticklish. The kid started warming up the crew’s breakfast in the mornings, because he was up anyway, and because he could. 

He… wasn’t a bad kid. But he’d never be one of Hakoda’s. 

* * *

General How sent a letter. It was significantly more diplomatic than the latest from Fong. 

—a child of such value in an active warzone. Likewise, the prince should be continuing his tutelage in matters of state and such subjects as befit his station and future, and to build in him an appreciation for the support a joint backing by our nations could provide. You would be welcome to send with him a delegation representing Southern Water Tribe interests—

* * *

“You’re selling me to the Earth Kingdom,” the prince said, sitting across from Hakoda at the desk. 

“I’m…” There would be no money exchanged in the transaction. But that didn’t change its nature. “...It’s the best circumstances I can provide for you, Prince Zuko.”

“It’s just Zuko,” the prince said. “I’m banished. And dead. Remember? Sir.”

Hakoda sighed. “Pack your things, Zuko.”

The prince looked at him a moment more, then left. It wasn’t until later that Hakoda realized the boy didn’t have anything to pack. He’d come to him with the clothes on his back, and that was how he’d leave.

* * * 

The Water Tribe delegation consisted of Toklo and Panuk. Kustaa was needed on the ship. 

“Look, they sent a carriage,” Toklo said, leaning over the rail. The General’s men were already waiting for them on the docks. 

“Fancy,” Panuk said.

None of them mentioned the prince’s continued need for crutches, nor the impossibility of him making the trip by ostrich-horse. Hakoda was glad the general had sent a carriage, rather than a wagon. It was a relatively auspicious start.

The boy himself was sitting on a barrel, his crutches propped beside him. The isopup leaned against his legs, three hind pereopods drumming against the deck as he enjoyed a good ear scratching. It was impossible to explain to him that this was the last he’d get from firebender-warm hands. Or that when he scratched at the healer’s cabin tonight, there’d only be an empty bed inside. The boy had slept with Hakoda’s dog more in the past months than Hakoda had during this entire voyage. 

Hakoda cleared his throat. The boy didn’t startle, thankfully. 

“What?” he asked, eyes on the soldiers waiting for him, as their crew tied up to the pier.

“You could… take him with you,” Hakoda said. “The dog. He’s more yours than mine, these days.”

The prince’s breathing hitched. His hand stopped scratching, which led to nuzzling and play-nibbles, before he resumed. 

“I can’t,” he said. “I don’t know if they’ll hurt him.”

Hakoda didn’t make any other offers. 

His crew secured the boarding ramp. 

“It’s your last chance,” Panuk said, giving the boy a nudge. “Go.”

And then the prince was hugging their healer, and if he was crying, that was between him and the man’s shirt. The kid was still wearing Kustaa’s oversized coat. 

“You’re still not my uncle,” he said, into the man’s shoulder.

“You don’t get to choose your uncles, brat,” Kustaa said, hugging his nephew back.

* * *

The isopuppy prowled the ship all night, searching.

* * *

After the war—after the coalition of nations, after that uneasy alliance with the Dragon of the West and the sharp-toothed smiles he had specifically for Hakoda, after the peace talks and the compromises—

After. 

The new Fire Lord had a council with all nations represented. Hakoda sent Bato, and Sokka. Panuk was already there. Toklo had gone home, to a sister that didn’t remember him, but was still young enough to accept him back within the week. 

Katara left for the Fire Nation, too, when news reached them of the Avatar finally being found. She joined the other Southern healer in residence in managing his care. If Kustaa resented a teenager whose qualifications consisted of “magic water” stepping into his domain, Hakoda never heard of it. And he did still hear from the man, in the occasional letter home.

The Avatar, one letter read, was extremely pleased to have graduated to a cane matching his nephew’s. His nephew was less enthused.

* * *

Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe was not invited to the coronation of Fire Lord Zuko.

[chemicalarospec]

you've heard of: aroacespec "is this person flirting with me" confusion, now get ready for: Does this person think I'm flirting with them (and also are they flirting "back" with me) because I accidentally bumped into them a lot?

[thelostconsultant]

Not a gold digger

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Fans think you only want Max's money. But as it turns out, you were wealthy before he came into your life--you just don't make it obvious.

warnings: No smut, but there's a part that makes me say MDNI.

note: So... I'm kinda back? Idk, I'll see if I'll stick around.

The toxicity of the fandom was becoming quite entertaining, really. It was the third time since you and Max had made your relationship public half a year ago that someone started an anti gold digger campaign to protect your boyfriend. They truly believed they were doing this for a greater good, and they all begged Max for his attention.

It always began after they sniffed out he had given you something expensive as a gift or took you shopping to a luxury boutique. While there were some people who tried to protect you by pointing out that maybe he enjoyed showering you with gifts, the rest didn't care about that. 

You lived in a small apartment back home, you were driving a five years old Renault SUV, and no one knew what you did for a living. This was enough to enrage them and make them believe all you wanted was Max's money at the end of the day. Just think about the way she's looking at him, one of them wrote about two months ago, she's so clearly not in love with him. Poor Max, someone please save him. 

Ridiculous.

“Is everything okay?” he asked when he got home and kissed the top of your head. 

You were sitting in his sim rig, using the time while it was free to practice, because you wanted to play with him when you weren't here together, and he was more than happy to show you the basics. “Someone started another campaign to cancel me,” you replied casually as you got out with his help. 

Even when you were standing in front of him, he didn't let go of your hand, instead he raised it to his lips to place a soft kiss on its back. “Gold digging?” You nodded with a sad look on your face, but less than five seconds later you were both laughing. “Look, I know you're having way too much fun with this, but–”

Without waiting for him to finish, you raised your hand to make him stop. “I'm not stepping out of the shadows, Max. I've been hiding for years, even fucking Forbes doesn't know my real name or face,” you told him.

Back in the old days, when Bitcoin appeared, your geeky uncle had gotten into mining and trading it. He knew the potential, so he put most of his savings into buying them, then he held onto them, and by the time he got sick years later, he knew they were valuable and would be worth a lot more in the upcoming years. In his will, he left his savings and his wallet to you, giving you the chance to use them as you wished since you had learned everything about crypto from him.

So now you had Bitcoin as well as old fashioned investments, and you had used your money to help out an up-and-coming tech company for a forty percent share, and it was later sold to a tech giant for a lot of money. But despite your wealth, you chose to stay under the radar, because you loved your small apartment, and you weren't about to trade it for some fancy penthouse. 

You had met Max the year before in Las Vegas. F1 was a sport you watched with your uncle while he was still alive, and you were hell-bent on getting a VIP pass for the weekend. If you asked your boyfriend, he would say it was love at first sight, but in reality he was just annoyed by you. For a solid ten seconds, he would correct you every time you talked about it.

You agreed that you would hide in Max's apartment until this latest campaign died down, which gave you some time to spend together in peace. Every now and then you checked the tags to see how things were going, and after the silence of the past few days, today your name was trending again. Ready to have a good laugh, you opened the tag, but the most popular post gave you a minor stroke.

“Oh, fuck me,” you yelled as you launched your phone into the couch.

Max pulled the headset down to his neck as he looked over at you. “Is everything okay?” You raised your finger to your lips as if you wanted him to stay quiet, but luckily he got the message. “I'm muted. So?”

You grabbed your phone and went over to him. “They know. One of those idiots from the company I helped back in the day posted a tweet to protect me, saying that if it wasn't for me being an angel investor, they wouldn't be millionaires now,” you summarized as you gave him the device.

He scrolled through a series of tweets, and found a post from a journalist of Forbes in which he promised a proper investigative piece based on this info. He handed you the phone, then wrapped an arm around your waist. “It's okay, schatje. I know that's not what you wanted, but maybe they'll stop with the recurring hate campaign now,” he tried. “And if you’re worried about the article… Don’t be. There is nothing compromising about you. Yes, you inherited the money, but you have proven you know what to do with it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you admitted with a sigh. 

“I’m usually right. C’mere,” he said as he reached out to pull you closer, but you glanced over at the camera. Rolling his eyes, he quickly turned it off, then gave you an expectant look. “Will you hug me now? And I want a kiss too.”

With a laugh, you leaned down to wrap your arms around his neck and gave him a soft kiss. But he wanted more, his hand slowly sneaked under your shorts, his fingers running over your clothed cunt before he decided to pull your panties aside and dip a finger between your folds. You moaned into the kiss, but he pulled away a second later to lick his finger clean. 

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you patted his shoulder and walked back to the couch. You could feel Max’s eyes on you the whole time, and when you looked at him again, he flashed a devilish smile at you. “I should quit the stream. Now that I had a taste, I want more,” he told you. 

“I’m not going anywhere, just try to be patient.”

He looked back at the screen, then put the headset back on his head and unmuted his mic. “Sorry, I have to go. See you next time,” he told the others, then logged out. You couldn’t remember the last time he left the sim rig this fast, and only a few seconds later he was kneeling in front of you, eagerly reaching up to pull your shorts off you.

liked by user1, user2 and 947,896 others

f1gossips: Breaking news! Turns out Max Verstappen's girlfriend isn't a gold digger after all as she has her own fortune according to the investigative article published by Forbes. Will the fans apologize?

view all comments

user2: And here I was, thinking she's just a greedy airhead...

user3: Easy to be wealthy with your uncle's money.

↳ user4: Have you read the whole thing? She invested the money and helped out several startups--that later became pretty successful--as an angel investor. Yes, maybe she inherited a lot of money, but she knows what to do with it.

↳ user5: May I remind you how many F1 drivers started their careers with their families's money?

user6: Told you she wasn't a gold digger. Suck it, haters.

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,577,353 others

maxverstappen1: If you don't buy your girlfriend gifts every once in a while, you're a bad boyfriend. I love to spoil her, it's not a crime. I love her, I'm proud of her, and you can send us as much hate as you want, it will only make us stronger.

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername: I'd be perfectly fine without the gifts, I already told you.

↳ maxverstappen1: I don't care.

landonorris: You're absolutely right!

↳ maxverstappen1: You're single, how would you know?

↳ landonorris: Just FYI, I've been in relationships before.

danielricciardo: You're so disgustingly smitten with her. (I love you both.)

[invisibleoctopus]

if ur noticing me on here less Thats On Purpose. im winning.

[steddieas-shegoes]

like fire

for @steddie-week prompt 'touch starved'

rated m | 958 words | cw: mentioned child abuse, implied/referenced sexual content | tags: post-vecna, getting together, touch starved steve harrington

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

the last time steve's dad touched him was with a palm to his face, a demoralizing slap to remind him how little he thought of him before disappearing indefinitely to do anything but accept that his son wasn't perfect.

the last time steve's mom touched him was in an attempt at an apology for choosing his dad over him, barely a brush against the red handprint on his cheek before she was following her husband out the door and out of steve's life.

the first time eddie munson touches him, he's certain he's about to die. broken glass against his neck is sure to be the last thing he feels.

but it's not.

as eddie realizes they aren't there to hurt him, his grip eases and lets go completely. as he drops his hand, his hand grazes against steve's.

steve checks his skin for the burn mark he's sure is there after the heat of the touch, but it's just skin. winter-pale skin with freckles and a scar from a fight he lost, but no redness or blisters.

it sticks with him.

when they're doing their best to save hawkins, the world, and eddie's life, it sticks with him.

he knows robin caught on early, but was gracious enough to keep her thoughts to herself as they focused on defeating vecna and keeping the kids alive.

they get eddie out, but barely. he's bleeding too much, and he's near delirious as they slide him into the backseat of steve's car.

"felt like fire," he says as his eyes close.

"what did?" steve whispers, hoping that the kids are grabbing bikes to meet him at the hospital.

"touching you."

steve watches as his breathing gets shorter, pained whimpers escaping from his lips. his eyes don't open again. steve wishes he could kiss him.

he doesn't get to see eddie again until hopper manages to clear his name nearly a week later.

he got updates via his uncle wayne, used the excuse that the kids were hounding him for answers when in reality, steve had barely heard from them because their parents refused to let them out of their sight. even dustin had barely been on the walkies, his mom making him go to work with her during the day so he wouldn't be alone.

but the moment he was allowed to go see him, he was walking through the door to his room with a stuffed bear from the hospital gift shop and a smile on his face.

wayne had already left for the night, and eddie had the television on something he wasn't watching, most likely for background noise. silence was hard after experiencing the world nearly ending.

eddie's eyes were closed, but steve could tell he wasn't actually asleep.

"hey, eds."

eddie's eyes blinked open, widening when he realized who it was entering his room.

"steve?"

when steve sat down in the chair next to his bed, he set the stuffed bear in eddie's lap and smiled.

"he needs a name."

eddie glanced down at the bear in his lap and back up at steve, confused and still.

"i think aragorn would be cute, but honestly i'm not sure if he's a bad guy or a good guy."

steve was getting nervous with the silence, certain that he was going to be told to leave, that he was being too much and that eddie would want space from him.

why would eddie wanna see him anyway? it's not like they were friends. sure, it felt like lightning going through his veins when they touched and eddie may have flirted with him the few times they actually spoke, but maybe that was just how it was for everyone. eddie was a firecracker.

a spark on his hand startled him from his thoughts.

eddie's fingertips were barely touching the back of his hand, but it was enough.

"like fire," eddie muttered, barely audible over the sharp intake of breath.

"you feel it too?" steve thought he was being dramatic, thought maybe that was just his reaction to a gentle touch.

eddie's hand covered steve's and for the first time in too long, steve felt warm.

he still shivered at the touch, surprised at how soft it was despite the rough hands with calloused fingertips.

"feels like i'm supposed to keep you warm."

steve melted.

the touches came easily, always gentle and kind, even when they were hands gripping thighs and teeth biting necks.

it didn't take long for eddie to understand how touch starved steve had been.

it was easy to tell.

steve wouldn't flinch away, but he tensed for a moment, even at the the slightest press of his lips against his shoulder or his hand against the small of his back. he was unsure how to accept the gentleness that eddie was giving him, but it got easier over time.

eddie would help him out of his clothes after a long day of volunteering, pushing him into the shower, washing his body and hair while steve closed his eyes and let him.

he'd massage his back and shoulders until steve felt like he was becoming part of the bed.

his lips brushed against his ear as he whispered for him to turn over and eddie would straddle his hips while he kissed him until steve was moaning and arching up into eddie's hands, silently begging for more.

and eddie always gave him more.

more touches, more kisses, more love.

he never went more than a day without eddie's hands on him. he forgot what it was like to want someone to touch him with love. eddie did it every time they were in the same room, and he'd keep doing it for the rest of their lives.

[mintsturniolo]

an unexpected evening (m.s)

husband!matt sturniolo x f!reader

a/n: unedited. this just came to mind and i wrote it down. please feel free to leave any requests or comments in my ask box. i love getting new ideas

summary: matt comes home to find his wife has had a long day and learns that he's responsible for the kids tonight

After a long day of vlogs, Matt was ready to go home and rest. He was ready for whatever Emily was preparing for dinner tonight. Emily had told him that she was planning something special for dinner and that she wanted Nick and Chris to join them. As Matt drove, he was on the phone with Chris. “I guess I’ll see you two in a couple of hours then,” he said as he pulled into the driveway.

“Yeah definitely. I have a few things I need to get done for my brand anyway,” Chris replied.

Matt finished up the conversation and made his way into the house. He was surprised to see the kitchen empty. He made his way into the living room to find his twins sitting on the floor putting together a puzzle. “Daddy!” His daughter squealed, running to him.

Matt smiled and lifted her into his arms. “Hey Ali. How are you?” He asked as he lifted his son with his other arm. “Hi Liam.”

Matt sat down on the couch so that he could have both his kids in his lap. “What did you guys do today?”

“We went to the park,” Liam said excitedly.

“Mom took us to get ice cream,” Ali added before sticking her arm in Matt’s face. “Then we went to the mall and they painted a butterfly on my hand!”

Matt stayed with his kids for a few more minutes listening to their stories about their day before deciding to check on his wife. He wasn’t in a hurry to eat, but he was wondering why she hadn’t started cooking yet. “Where’s mom?” He asked the five year olds.

“With Noah in your room,” Ali replied.

Matt got up and went upstairs to see the bedroom door cracked. The light was on but it was quiet. Matt walked in and smiled at the sight before him. His wife Charli was sound asleep among the mess of blankets on their bed with their six month old snuggled up against her chest. Matt made his way to the bed and laid beside Charli. He heard her start to wake up as he gently ran his fingers up and down her arm. “Hmmmm,” Charli hummed. “Matty?”

“Hey mamas,” Matt replied softly. “Long day?”

Charli nodded as she readjusted herself, doing her best not to wake up Noah. Her eyes widened and she gasped quietly. “Oh my gosh. Matt I’m so sorry. I forgot about dinner.”

“No. It’s okay. We can do it another time. Nick and Chris will understand,” Matt reassured Charli. “I’ll cook for the kids. You just rest. Are you hungry?”

“I’m not hungry, but the kids probably are,” Charli yawned.

***** Time Skip *****

When Matt had finished making dinner for the kids and gotten them to bed, he made his way back to the kitchen to finish cleaning the dishes. As he turned off the sink, he noticed movement in the doorway. Matt turned around to see Charli leaning on the door frame. He smiled and walked over to his wife wrapping his arms around her waist. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah. I needed that,” Charli replied resting her head on Matt’s shoulder. “I still need to put Noah in his bed. He was sleeping so soundly so I didn’t move him.”

“I’ll do that. Where is he?” Matt replied.

“In his playpen,” Charli replied. “I thought he should crawl around for a while but I wanted to come check on you.”

Matt planted a kiss on Charli’s cheek before making his way upstairs. “Hey Noah,” he said happily as the six month old started to crawl towards him.

Matt lifted Noah into his arms and rested his chin on the crown of his head. “I missed you today,” he mumbled.

Noah gurgled happily as he played with the chain around Matt’s neck. “Yeah,” Matt whispered. “You get to see uncle Nick and uncle Chris tomorrow. That’s going to be fun.”

Matt carried his son to his room and laid him in his crib. Matt stood over the crib gently rubbing Noah’s back, as he soothed him to sleep. Several minutes later, Noah fell asleep and Matt went back downstairs to find Charli on the couch. “Everyone’s tucked in upstairs. What do you think about a movie night?” Matt suggested, earning a nod from Charli.

As the movie went on, Matt noticed that Charli had gotten quiet. He looked down to see her asleep in his lap. A smile formed on his face as he gently kissed her cheek and pulled a blanket over her.

Taglist

@sturniolo04

[hotluncheddie]

Hug.

wc: 3.4k | rated: T | cw: meltdown, burnout | tags: autistic eddie munson, hurt/comfort, pre relationship, pining, hugging | ao3

.𖥔˚

Eddie Munson has a secret. 

He doesn’t know how to hug. 

Sure, he knows how in theory, and he has been hugged before, with mixed reactions. But it’s been a while. Been a long while actually. So long that embarrassingly, part of him, dreads the day he gets the urge to hug someone. Because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do it right. 

With Wayne they’re in a routine of shoulder pats or a side on squeeze. If Eddie’s having a really bad time he can curl near him on the ratty sofa and likes to rest his forehead on his uncles shoulder, Wayne’s work worn hands coming up to ruffle his hair, let him be for a while. 

But they don’t really hug. Not for real. Not really. 

And Eddie doesn’t mind, is the thing. He doesn’t need that from his uncle. 

With the hellfire boys it’s always been nudges and poking and a friendly kind of wrestled, headlock, type thing. That’s the line, that’s the boundary. And Eddie’s okay with that too, they’re friends, they’re guys, they’re good people but Eddie just doesn’t think he can show that part of himself to them. The part that doesn’t know, the part that sort of wants more but is too afraid to ask. 

Sometimes the thought or actuality of someone touching him makes him kind of queasy. Makes him twist his rings and pull his hair. He doesn’t want it. Not always.

He knows his Nana used to hug him, before she passed away, and his Mom probably did too, he just can’t really remember. But that was normal, that’s what Moms and Nana’s do. But he doesn’t get that now. That type of hugging. 

Then Eddie meets Steve, meets Steve in the upside down. A different Steve than he’d known of in school. A slightly different Steve again once they’re all out, all healed and patched and the horrors hidden away. 

He meets that Steve. And Eddie, Eddie thinks he wants to hug him. 

He knows he’s being a little weird about it. Fluttering in and out of Steve’s space, never quite letting himself touch, never more than a brush of fingers or a nudge of his hip. Never staying still enough to let Steve make a move on what he wants. 

But then the choice is sort of made for the both of them. Pushed together by fate, maybe, if you believe in that. 

All Eddie believes in, all Eddie knows, is that Steve’s house is so fucking loud. 

‘The walls Stevie they’re so, so white. And your fridge! It’s just, loud and and weird.’ Eddie had said, already frustrated when Steve came to pick him up, even more so once they arrived. 

And once he was inside, it was like everything doubled, tripled. Steve’s house was unbearable tonight. 

But Steve had just laughed and Eddie knew he would, knew from the way he’d said it, all loud and over the top - added inflections, a good DM. But, the thing is, he mentioned it because he meant it, for real. It’s too fucking loud, thrumming under his skin. 

Eddie’s curled up on the couch, everyone else over now too for a movie night. They’re usually enjoyable, seeing the kids, Robin, Nancy. It’s nice. 

But tonight, tonight it’s turned up loud and people are talking and it’s not a scary film but it kind of is. 

He’s biting the skin of his cuticles just to feel something other than itchy and floaty and dizzy with discomfort. His heart is beating too fast and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. overlapping with the films crashing and static and the rustling of snacks and the cars outside. 

His skin feels sweaty against his clothes, sticking to the sofa and ripping him apart. 

It’s loud and Eddie is scared. 

He mutters ‘bathroom’ and thinks Steve next to him probably heard, even with his head resting on Robins shoulder. Doesn’t stop to find out. Doesn’t really care. Just needs to get out. 

He walks quickly to the stairs and tries not to sprint up them, but takes them two at a time, breathing heavily though his nose. 

Eddie closes the door to Steve’s upstairs bathroom, tears prickling his eyes as he steps from one foot to the other, rocking. His hand migrate to his hair, gripping and pulling harshly. tug stop, pain ebb. 

But the noise still travels, it’s better than in would’ve been in the downstairs bathroom but Eddie shoves the heels of his palms against his ears. He’s panting now, vision blurring. Shoulders and neck tense. 

He pushes against his ears harder, wants nothing, wants quiet. Wants it to bite. 

Thing is, he used to love noise. Would seek it out, find it wherever he could. He’d push practice to run late and he’d hang out at the hideout after their set, just to feel that press of voices all around him. The hum of the amps alone used to fill him up something magic, set his bones alight. 

As a kid he used to crinkle paper by his ears, just to hear it crackle and rustle, like white noise static in his brain and skin. Used to beg Wayne to take him to the junkyard every weekend just so he could bang on the big old rusty metal with a stick. Hear the hum crash, bellow and die out. The different tones, the different dents and scrapes changing the sound. He used to spend hours scrabbling around, trying everything he could to make enough sound, make enough noise, to feel that feeling of everything being full and alive and awake and amazing. 

Now though, after. After those bats screams burrowed into him and made noice synonymous with fear and pain and blood red darkness. Now he’s scared of the stray cats that meow in the night, grates his teeth if someone drags him to the diner, the buzz of the fluorescents and scraping of plates making him want to scream. 

Noise used to be his safe space, now he can’t even be in a room full of his friends. Can't tonight, not like this. And see, he’s always been weird but now even that’s changed.

He doesn’t even recognise himself anymore. 

It’s that thought, that fear, that has Eddie dropping to a crouch, knees under his chin. He leans against the bathtub and tries to steady his breathing. But the tears are slipping out and he feel his lungs contract, he can’t breath, he can’t. 

He pushes his hand harder into his ears, the blood rushing. Rocks so his back hits the tub, thud, thud thud. Remembers how horrible those weeks in hospital were, the bed sheets and the beeping and the smell. It would’ve been horrid anyway but after those days full of fear, that adrenaline he’d gone through but not processed. It was unbearable. 

And he’s still not back, not recovered. He’s so tired. Everything’s so tiring. He can only manage to leave the trailer maybe once a week, when he’s dragged out, taken to something by Steve or Wayne or Dustin. (They try for more but Eddie thinks that might actually make him loose it.) He goes out and tries to act normal, tries to keep the people around him from leaving. Goes out but it all feels different. 

He misses the weight and smell of his leather jacket, his jeans from before and wallet chain he used to fiddle with. Misses who he was when he had those things, who he thought he could be.  

Otherwise he’s in his room, trying to feel better. Sleeping a lot, listening to the same album over and over, eating the same thing just because anything else would be too much. Press too hard on his rips. Be an extra boulder stacked onto his already cracking shoulders. 

Eddie doesn’t hear the door open and close quietly, doesn’t hear Steve’s socks pad over the bathroom rug. 

But he feels his body heat and smells his cologne. Eddie still gasping for breath, too afraid to open his eyes or move his hands from his ears. But he feels body heat, Steve’s here. Eddie feels him. 

His still ragged breaths stutter for a moment when he feels Steves large, warm palm settle between his shoulder blades. He flinches at the contact but Steve doesn’t move, just stays there, touching lightly, in that one place, grounding. Bringing Eddie back to his body slowly. His lungs filling up with a little more air each time he breaths. 

He swallows thickly, coming back to himself slightly, but still scared to open his eyes, deeper breaths bracketed by sobs and hiccups. He hates when people see him cry. 

Eventually he moves his hands so they’re just cupped over his ears, instead of pushed tightly against. He can just make out the soft rumbling of Steve’s voice, too quiet to be heard before but Eddie can understand him now. 

‘That’s it, deep breaths. just like me, okay?’ Steve takes a deep breath. ‘That’s it Ed’s, in for two, out for two.’ He breaths out through his mouth, hand rubbing soothing circles over Eddie’s shoulders. 

Eddie follows, breathing deeper, filling his body with oxygen again. Breathing along with Steve. 

Eventually Eddie moves his hands, sniffing again and scrubbing his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He crosses his arms on his knees and buries his head there. 

He takes another deep breath, finally finding the courage to open his eyes and peek over at Steve. 

He’s backlit by the moonlight shining through the frosted window, the only other light in the room is the orange strip across the bottom of the closed bathroom door. 

Eddie can still hear everyone downstairs, the rumble of the tv, but it doesn’t feel so bad now, doesn’t make his skin crawl so much. He’s not ready to got back out there though. Not yet. 

‘Hi.’ Steve says, smiling at Eddie like it’s another normal day and not one where he just helped Eddie though a full on meltdown in his parents bathroom. 

Eddie snorts. God. He’s so embarrassed.

Swallowing Eddie has to force the words out of his chest, would like to not say anything but Steve is here and Steve is smiling at him and the least Eddie can do is speak a little, as uncomfortable as it is. 

‘Sorry.’ He lands on, voice rough and quiet. 

‘No, none of that Ed’s yeah? Remember, party rules?’ And Steve speaks just as quietly as Eddie did, like he knows, knows how fragile Eddie is right now. Eddie grunts, tears bubbling a slipping out again. 

Party rules are that Steve won’t ask twice if someone needs to come over or call, any time of night. If you need a ride to a members house or just to fall asleep with him on the line, he’s there. Eddie can’t count the number of times he’s seen Steve drop Lucas at Max's trailer late at night, Steve watching until he gets inside. If it isn’t too late he’s started coming to check on Eddie too. Sometimes Eddie’s able to see him, engage with him. Sometimes it’s too much, being a person, even in front of Steve. He leaves Wayne to tell him eddies fine, or as fine as Eddie can be, at the moment. 

‘What can I do?’ Steve asks, bringing Eddie back to the present, to Steve’s bathroom floor. 

Eddie screws his eyes up. He, ugh. ‘I don’t know how to, do, what I want.’ Eddie says, nonessential. But he just. He wants. Wants to feel Steve, imagines that warmth, and grounding, wants more. Too much. 

Steve’s eyebrows furrow slightly, but his face still seems kind, like always. Steve’s always kind. ‘What do you want?’ He asks. 

Eddie looks at the floor, there’s a loose thread on the edge of the rug, he stares at it. ‘A hug.’ He mumbles, cheeks flaming. 

‘Oh.’ Steve breaths. And then, like it’s simple, like it’s nothing. ‘Okay.’ he says and Eddie glances at him. 

Steve shifts so his back is flat against the tub, legs out in front of him and arms open. Waiting. 

‘Take your time, any way you want it.’ Steve says. 

Eddie wipes his face again, shifts onto his knees without really thinking, drawn towards Steve like always. But he falters, hands raised but fingers clenching and unfurling. He twitches his head to the left and few times, almost uncontrollably, he does it again. ‘I, ah, um.’ He doesn’t. He doesn’t know how. 

Because this is different still, from Wayne, from his Nana, from friends. This is Steve. 

But Steve just sits, waiting, looking at Eddie. ‘Take your time. Any way you want Ed’s.’ Steve says again softly, imploring. 

Eddie blinks hard and couple times, tugs at his hair again, focus, focus. He shuffles forward and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck a little awkwardly. His back bending to lean far enough, not sure how hard to squeeze, afraid to be too close, touch too much. 

Eddie’s breathing picks up again, he doesn’t, cant, doesn’t know how. He pulls away, scrubbing at his face again. 

‘Can I?’ Steve starts, moving toward Eddie but stops, waiting for a reply. Eddie nods mutely, cheeks flaming. 

Steve moves closer, Eddie knees up against his thigh. He pulls on Eddies leg, getting him to move it over top of Steve’s. Until he’s essentially sitting in his lap. Eddies eyes are wide, Steve is so close, so warm. 

He keeps going, slowly, bringing Eddie’s chest to his slowly, wrapping Eddie’s arms around his torso and then wrapping his own around Eddie. One big warm palm leading Eddie’s head into the crook of Steve’s neck, where it’s dark, smells strongly of citrus and musk. 

Eddie’s tense, muscles locked tight, but then Steve shifts one more time, getting comfortable and squeezes Eddie once. The pressure, it unlocks something inside him. Steve breaths out, like he’s relaxing too, like this is nice for Steve too. 

‘S’okay Eddie, relax for me.’ Steve prompts quietly, arms squeezing again. Everything soft and quiet and warm. 

Eddie tips over the edge. 

He empties his lungs, slow and stuttering, in and out. Relaxes. Slumping down onto Steve and lets go. ‘Oh.’ It feels so good to be held, to be wrapped up like this. Steve’s arms hold firm around him, pulling them impossibly closer. 

Eddie whimpers, let’s go fully, drifts. 

He thinks he might honestly fall asleep, so exhausted from his meltdown, the emotion and sensory, twist and release. 

He comes too with Steve stroking a hand over his hair and down his back, repeating the long slow motion over and over, like Eddie is some overgrown cat. 

He breaths deep one last time, steals himself for the cold of letting go. Sits back on his heels, extracting himself from Steve’s neck and unfurling his grip of Steve’s waist. 

But Steve stops him getting too far. One hand on the back in eddies neck, one at his hip. It’s almost too much, makes Eddie think about more than friends, about skin on skin. About being held like this, only different. 

‘Sorry, um, thanks.’ He says, afraid to look Steve in the eye, staring at the collar of his polo instead, reaching up to fiddle with one of the little shiny buttons. 

Steve just squeezes Eddie’s neck, letting go to move around slightly now that Eddie’s whole weight isn’t on him anymore. ‘For someone who says they don’t know how to hug, that was pretty nice.’ Steve says once he’s settled, hands back on Eddie hips. 

That makes Eddie glance up, flick his eyes to Steve’s and back down. Just enough time to take in his soft smile and kind gaze, down tuned and sleepy. He looks relaxed, happy. 

Eddie’s heart clenches. But he just huffs, ‘yeah, sure.’ Only he can’t help smiling a little, half believing. Half believing the ridiculousness, That Steve would enjoy this too. 

But Steve reaches up and tucks some hair behind Eddie’s ear, so soft and caring. ‘Hey, I mean it. And if you ever want, ever need this again. I’m here.’ He says, voice still a whisper. 

Eddie feels tears prickle again, how could, how is Steve even real? ‘Careful Stevie.’ He jokes. ‘Say any more and you’ll never get rid of me.’ Eddie doesn’t to want to go, Eddie wants to stay right here forever. But he knows he can’t. Can’t do that. 

‘I mean it Ed’s, any time you want. How-however you want.’ And Steve looks up at him, cheeks pink in the moonlight and eyes wide. Like he’s said too much, like he’s scared too. 

Eddie wants to kiss him. 

Wants to bury his head back in Steve’s neck and never come out. Wants to slip his tongue past the seam of Steve’s lips and grind his hips down just to see what noises he’ll get. Wants to hear him and touch him and taste him all over. Wants to curl up in bed next to him and bring him over to have dinner with Wayne. Wants to share his food and listen to his heartbeat and let Steve in. Let him see more. More of Eddie. 

But not now. Not when there’s salt tracks in his face and phlegm in his throat. When he needs a glass of water and a, like, nine hour nap. ‘Kay.’ He settles on, voice wet but happy, he’s so happy, to have Steve now, even if it’s hard and he’s so tired and so scared. He has Steve. He has Wayne and his friends and he has Steve. ‘Thank you.’ Eddie whispers, feeling held by the dark bathroom. Space and time on pause. He feels brave, feels exposed and covered head to toe in all his past and all his present. Feels here, feels now. 

Eddie leans forward and places the softest of kisses on Steve’s cheek. The first he’s ever given, and how nice, that it’s Steve. How nice, to feel his warmth and hear his little intake of breath. 

Eddie blushes, scrubs at his cheeks again. Slipping off of Steve’s thighs to sit back next to him, shoulder to shoulder, on the little bathroom rug. 

‘Do you want to go back down? Or um, I can take you home?’ Steve asks, sounds unsure but his voice is soft, steady. Eddie bites his thumb, rubs his knuckles against his teeth. 

He doesn’t know what he wants. Wishes they could stay here forever. But there’s a room full of people and this is Steve’s house, he can’t just leave them, can’t just stay here, with Eddie, in his parents bathroom. 

‘I’ll uhm, I’ll just wait here a little longer, until the movie finishes. You go down, be a good host.’ And Eddie smiles, but he doesn’t feel it in his eyes, can’t face the light and noise again just yet, the questions or glances that might come his way. 

‘I’ll go check on them then, take some back and then you can go last. Or, or stay, if you, if you want.’ 

Eddie’s heart clenches again. He wants to, to stay. But he also wants his bed, familiar and inviting. Wants to smell Wayne in the air and have his tape on to fall asleep. Wants normal, after tonight. Needs it. 

But one day. When he feels better. When that spark he had sometimes comes back, the one that believed he could be a rockstar or a writer. That would dream up campaigns and have the energy to write them down. When that part of him comes back, when he’s not so tired. Then he’ll go to Steve, offer himself up, ask for more, ask to stay. 

But tonight he’s too close to breaking, too flayed open and rubbed pink. ‘A lift home later would be nice, just us?’ He asks, it’s so much, fills him up. It’s everything he wants, in this moment. 

Steve nods, bumping their knees together. 

He’s so good, Eddie marvels, for the hundredth time. 

‘Course. I’ll bring you some water.’ And Steve shifts to stand, using Eddie to help him up. It’s so nice, to be this close, a barrier broken, new rules to be made. 

‘You can wait in my room, if you want? It might be more comfortable.’ Steve says, hand on the doorknob. Eddie just nods, blushes, not even sure why. But Steve smiles, pretty and boyish and small.  

He slips out and turns off the light on the landing, the whole floor bathed in darkness. Eddie didn’t even ask, he didn’t even have to. He feels tears well again, laughing a little at it all. At the Steve of it all. 

He stays curled up on the bathroom rug a little longer, in the new quiet memory of Steve and warmth and darkness. Until he’s ready. Knows Steve will be waiting. 

.𖥔˚

Tag List (open) : @scoops-aboy86 @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots

also.. @spectrum-spectre @babydollbaron @flowercrowngods just bc :)

[withwritersblock]

Knowing me, Knowing You

~Knowing me, Knowing You by ABBA~ Author's Note: requeted, sorta. it got angsty some how? Summary: Luke goes to his daughter's youth hockey game Warnings: none Word Count: 1,733 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

Luke has always felt guilty for missing his daughter’s hockey games. Zoey was seven and had games almost every weekend. But all of her games overlapped with his. She would FaceTime him before and after the games. She would be red hot and dripping in sweat, her curly hair sprawled all over her features. 

She was a center like her Uncle Jack and was the top scorer on her team. There was not an ounce of surprise with that fact as she was a Hughes after all. Y/N always made an effort to record as many videos as possible, so Luke was able to be involved as much as he can. He still felt guilty for not being able to go. 

Except today. It was the mini championship for her league that she was apart of and Luke had the week off for All-Star break. This year none of the Hughes boys were a part of the All-Star tournament which meant all three of them would be there to support Zoey. 

Zoey and Y/N were both already at the rink, while Luke was trying to drag his brothers out of the house. “The game starts in an hour, with traffic we’ll barely make it on time for the first period!” he shouted as he took a hold of his keys. Quinn groaned out as he walked out of the guest bedroom. 

“Well it’s not my fault that Jackaboy needs to take forty minutes on his hair!” Quinn ran his hand across his chin. Jack huffed as he stood up from the couch.

“You could’ve used Luke’s bathroom!” Jack expressed as all three of the boys walked towards the door to leave the house. 

The drive to the rink took forty minutes and Luke was freaking out the entire time. He parked the car and instantly hopped out. Quinn and Jack were trailing behind him. Luke promised Zoey that he would be there, and warmups were nearly finished. Zoey had to of thought Luke wasn’t coming. 

The three boys walked towards the table, it was a seven dollar entrance fee. Luke pulled up his venmo and venmoed them the twenty-one dollars that was needed to enter. The teenage girl working the table flushed bright red at the sight of the three of them. She nervously added the wristbands to their wrists. 

They all took fast steps towards the entrance to the rink. Luke step foot onto the bleachers to see his wife and his parents sitting together a few feet away, “Over here,” he mumbled towards his brothers before he guided his way through the crowded bleacher seats. He sat down beside Y/N, excited rubbing his hands together as stared towards the ice searching for the forty-three on the ice. 

“She’s been looking for you,” Y/N mumbled, sadly. He clenched his jaw as he glanced towards his brothers who were sitting beside their dad away from him.

“They took forever to get ready to leave the house, I’m sorry,” he whispered as he leaned towards her, kissing her temple as he ran his hand up and down her back. “How was she before the game?” he asked looking at each of the tiny girls on the ice. His eyes landed on the forty-three skating towards the net, shooting and hitting the glass. Luke watched as her head tilted back as she smacked her stick against the ice.

“She’s having a rough morning,” she crossed her arms over her chest as she watched her little girl look towards the group on the bleachers again. She waved as she saw her dad. Luke smiled widely as he returned the wave. “She’s a little disappointed that you weren’t the one dropping her off,” Y/N let out as she turned her head to the side to meet Luke’s gaze. 

Luke took in a sharp breath as he bit his bottom lip. “What do you want me to say, Y/N?”

“Nothing, it’s fine, Luke,”

“Is it?” he asked as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. She scanned his frustrated features. She clenched his jaw.

“Let’s not do this here,” she mumbled as she shifted her gaze towards the ice. The girls were all skating off the ice to allow the zamboni to clean the ice. 

“Seriously, I’m here now,” he muttered defensively. 

Y/N huffed, “I’m gonna get a hot chocolate,” she stood up and walked the other direction. Luke watched her walk away clenching his jaw. He took a deep breath as he tilted his head back. 

“Everything okay there?” Ellen asked leaning towards Luke. He shifted his gaze towards his mom. He shrugged. He shook his head as he stared towards the zamboni. “What did you do?” she asked. Luke rolled his eyes.

“I’m missing out on a lot,” he said keeping his gaze towards the ice. 

“What do you mean?” Ellen asked.

“This is the first game of Zoey’s I’ve seen this year. It seemed like every game she had this year landed on a roadtrip,” Luke explained as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Y/N does her best at recording the games but it’s not the same,” 

“What does Zoey think?” Ellen asked. Luke shook his head as he shifted his gaze towards his mom.

“She puts on a tough face but I know my girl,” he took a deep breath, “I know she’s sad that I’m not here that often.”

Ellen pouted as she wrapped her arm around his back. “She’s a tough kid, Lukey, she understands. She looks up to you and your career.”

“I don’t think my wife understands,” he mumbled just as he shifted his gaze to see Y/N walking back towards them. She was carrying three hot chocolates. Luke quickly stood up and met her halfway, taking two from her hands. 

“Thank you,” she smiled politely. Luke kept one as he handed his mom the other. Y/N sat down at the same time as Luke. He rested his hand onto her thigh as he looked towards her. She took a deep breath as she met his eye, “That was unfair of me, I’m sorry. I know you’re trying,” He swallowed hard as he leaned towards her, kissing her cheek.

“I’m sorry too. I know I can do more to help, I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing this alone,” he said as he scanned her features. She took a shaky breath as she nodded. 

It took another ten minutes before the girls reappeared on the ice. Most of the girls were only seven, but the energy in the small ice rink was electric. It was the league’s championship game afterall. She excitedly tapped her hand against Luke’s leg as Zoey skated to take the center draw. 

The game in itself was slow as their little legs could only get them so far. But Luke didn’t take his eyes off the little forty-three for a single second for her first minute on the ice. He watched her skate the puck back into the zone. Her head up, not eyeing the puck like she used to. Y/N reached for Luke’s hand and he excitedly interlocked their fingers. 

She shot the puck on the goal and it trickled into the net slowly. It was the fourth shot on net the girls had done. Luke threw his hand in the air as he cheered. He watched her skate away from the net and bow, exactly like he does after he scores. His mouth fell open as he laughed. 

“That’s a new one!” Y/N let out as she hugged Luke.

“Atta-girl Hughesy!” their head coach shouted as she took a seat on the bench. Luke smiled to himself, remembering the days when that was his nickname. 

“Luke,” Quinn hollered after him. Luke shifted his gaze towards his eldest brother, “She’s gonna be a PWHL star with that wrister,” he smiled widely.

“She wants to play for Ottawa,” he let out with a smirk, “She likes the color red.” The entire row of the Hughes family started laughing. 

It took another few minutes before Zoey was back on the ice, the game was now tied. It didn’t take long before the puck was back on her stick, “Come on, baby girl,” Luke let out as he straightened his frame to get a better look. Her teammate was wide open beside the net and she tried to pass the puck. She made the pass and her teammate scored. 

“Let’s go!” Luke cheered. “What a pass, Zo,” he let out as he looked towards Y/N. She smiled widely as she met his gaze. He took a shaky breath as the realization of what he’s been missing hit him. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked quickly as she reached her hand over, running her fingers through the ends of his hair.

“I swear we just put her in skates and now-” he trailed off. She pouted as she watched him blink back the sudden emotions.

“I know, my love,” she let out, leaning her head against his shoulder as she shifted her gaze back to the ice. Luke followed in pursuit to see Zoey have the puck all alone in the the offensive zone.

“Shoot it, Hughesy!” her head coach yelled, she listened and shot the puck on the net and scored again. She threw her arms in the air as she watched the puck go in. 

“That’s my girl!” Luke let out as he clapped his hands excitedly.

The game ended with a 4-3 win for her tiny team. After the game, still in their gear the girls met them in the lobby of the ice rink. Zoey took the cage off of her head as she stumbled towards Luke. Luke smiled widely as he knealed down, letting her jump into his arms.

Her curly hair was messy as her hair was falling out of the braid Y/N done. “You did so good, Zo,” he let out as he lifted her up in the air, a gigle fell from her lips.

“Did you see me bow?” she asked with a wide smile. He barked out a laugh.

“It was awesome!” he let out as he wiped the stray hairs away from her forehead. 

“Just like you,” she mumbled. Luke pouted as he nodded, pulling her head to rest against his shoulder.

[idkyetxoxo]

Gwayne Hightower - Redemption

Summary - A spirited princess enchants the fallen knight, Ser Gwayne with her charm challenging him to seek redemption in the most tantalizing way. Their flirtatious banter ignites a heated encounter, driving him to extraordinary lengths in his quest for atonement.

Pairing - Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2205

Masterlist for Gwayne • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

Far and wide, it was known throughout the realm that of the two Targaryen princesses, I was the more mischievous. My reputation preceded me, a blend of spirited antics and a loose tongue that often set the court abuzz.

"I believe I shall perish if I am not more thoroughly entertained," I declared dramatically as Alicent, Rhaenyra, and I sat together, watching the tourney unfold before us.

"You always need some sort of spectacle, don't you?" Rhaenyra said, feigning exasperation. I responded by sticking my tongue out at her, which made her smile.

"What can I say? I simply must be entertained at all times," I replied, my eyes wandering over the arena in search of any new and interesting faces.

"Who is our uncle about to joust?" I asked curiosity piqued as a confident knight rode around on his horse, preparing for the match.

"My brother Gwayne," Alicent answered.

I leaned forward, my interest now fully engaged. Gwayne removed his face shield and glanced in our direction. As expected, his stature matched his looks, he was indeed a strikingly handsome knight.

"Oh my," I murmured, my voice low and tinged with intrigue.

Alicent's eyebrows shot up in surprise, while Rhaenyra playfully swatted my leg. I leaned back in my seat, lifting my arms in a gesture of mock surrender, but not before sending the now-curious knight a flirtatious wink and a teasing bite of my lip.

As the joust began, the clashing of lances and the thunder of hooves filled the air. Gwayne rode with impressive skill, but his opponent, my uncle was formidable. With a particularly forceful strike, Gwayne was unseated, falling to the ground in a flurry of dust and metal.

"Better luck next time," I whispered to myself, a smirk playing on my lips. 

The match might have ended, but my interest in the knight was far from waning.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

Later that evening, as the festivities continued, I wandered through the castle's winding corridors, seeking a reprieve from the crowded halls. 

I was lost in thought when, as if guided by fate, I turned a corner and nearly collided with Gwayne himself. He had changed out of his armour into more casual attire, but his presence was no less striking.

"Ah, the mighty knight who fell so spectacularly today," I teased, my voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Gwayne raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. "And here I thought I might escape unnoticed."

"Escape? From me? Impossible," I replied, leaning against the cool stone wall of the corridor, crossing my arms with a dramatic flourish. "Tell me, how does it feel to be bested in front of the entire realm?"

He chuckled, the sound rich and deep, taking a deliberate step closer. "I admit, it was a blow to my pride but I suppose it makes for a more interesting story, doesn't it?"

"Indeed," I replied, matching his step forward. "Though, I must say, you took it rather well. Most men would be sulking in their chambers."

"Ah, but I am not most men," he said, his eyes locking with mine. "And you, Princess, are not most women."

"True enough," I said, tilting my head slightly as I studied his face. "But tell me, Ser Gwayne, how do you plan to redeem yourself after such a loss?"

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear as he spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "Perhaps you will find out at the next tourney. Or perhaps I shall redeem myself in other ways."

"Intriguing," I said, my eyes narrowing playfully as I considered his words. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with."

"Do you now?" he asked, his smirk widening. "I didn't take you for one to wait passively for entertainment."

"Who says I am?" I countered, stepping even closer until there was barely a breath between us. "Sometimes, the best entertainment is in watching someone strive to impress."

"Is that so?" His voice was low, almost a purr. "And have I managed to impress you yet, Princess?"

"You've managed to pique my interest," I admitted, letting my gaze linger on his lips before meeting his eyes again. "Which is more than most can say."

"Well then," he said, his hand lightly brushing against my arm, sending a shiver down my spine. "I shall consider that a victory in its own right."

"You do have a way with words, Ser Gwayne," I remarked, my tone as light as the banter we exchanged, but charged with an undercurrent of something more.

"And you, Princess, have a way of making a man forget his losses," he replied, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Careful, Ser Gwayne," I said, my voice softening to a whisper, "flattery will get you everywhere with me."

"Then I shall continue to flatter," he said, his smile almost predatory, yet warm and inviting. "For I find that I enjoy seeing you smile."

"Good," I replied, stepping back but not before letting my fingers trail down his arm. "Keep it up, and who knows? You might just redeem yourself sooner than you think."

The tension between us was evident, and as I turned to walk away, Gwayne reached out and gently caught my wrist. I turned back to face him, a playful glint in my eye.

"Not so fast," he murmured, his voice husky and laden with intent.

"Impatient, are we?" I teased, stepping closer until our bodies were nearly touching. "What are you going to do about it?"

Without another word, he closed the distance, capturing my lips in a heated kiss. His hands slid around my waist, pulling me against him as my fingers tangled in his hair. 

The corridor around us seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of us in our bubble of desire.

Breaking the kiss, I looked up at him, breathless. I took his hand and led him through the castle's labyrinthine halls. My heart pounded with anticipation, and I could feel his gaze on me, burning with intensity.

We reached my chambers, and I pushed the door open, pulling him inside. Once the door was closed, I turned to face him, a mischievous smile playing on my lips. 

Slowly, I began to undo the laces of my dress, my eyes never leaving his.

"You're going to have to earn your redemption, Ser Gwayne," I said, my voice a sultry whisper.

He took a step closer, his eyes darkening with desire. "And how do you suggest I do that, Princess?"

"Watch and learn," I replied, letting my dress slip from my shoulders and pool at my feet. I walked towards him, each step deliberate and teasing, until I was close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.

Gwayne's breath hitched as I reached up to trace a finger along his jawline, my touch light and teasing. "Are you ready to impress me?" I asked, my voice a soft purr.

"More than ready," he replied, his voice rough with desire.

With a smile, I leaned in to kiss him again, this time slower, savouring the moment. His hands roamed over my body, exploring every curve and dip, as I guided him towards the bed. Our kiss deepened, becoming more passionate as we gave in to the irresistible pull between us.

His clothes were pulled off in a frenzy of passion, leaving us both naked and exposed to the cool air of my chambers. There was a brief, electric pause as we took in each other's forms, desire evident in our eyes. 

With a commanding presence, Gwayne pushed me down onto the bed, and I let him take charge, intrigued by how exactly he planned to impress me.

His hands, rough from years of wielding a sword, caressed my legs, lifting them into the air. His eyes, darkened with lust, held mine as he began to pepper soft, tantalizing kisses along my inner thighs. Each touch sent waves of heat coursing through my body, and I couldn't help but arch my back, a soft moan escaping my lips.

"You're already off to a good start," I murmured, my voice breathless.

Gwayne chuckled, the sound deep and husky, as his kisses inched closer to where I most wanted them. His mouth moved with slow, deliberate precision, his lips warm and moist against my skin. He traced the sensitive skin with the tip of his tongue, leaving a trail of burning sensation in its wake. 

The anticipation was intoxicating, and I felt my body responding to his every touch.

"Patience, Princess," he whispered against my skin, his breath warm and tantalizing. "I want to savour this."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I tangled my fingers in his hair, urging him closer. He obliged, his lips finally finding their mark. His tongue flicked softly against my most sensitive spot, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. 

He alternated between gentle, teasing licks and firmer, more insistent strokes, his lips sealing around me to create a delicious suction. His movements were skilful, his tongue and lips working in harmony to drive me to the edge of madness.

"Oh," I gasped, my voice trembling with pleasure.

He paused briefly, looking up at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Not bad for a fallen knight, hmm?"

"Not bad at all," I managed to reply, my breath hitching as he resumed his ministrations. "But let's see if you can truly impress me."

His grin widened, and he redoubled his efforts. His hands roamed over my thighs, squeezing and massaging the soft flesh as his mouth continued its assault. His tongue moved with a maddening rhythm, swirling and flicking in a way that left me breathless. 

The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that left me trembling beneath him. 

Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, he slowed his pace, drawing out my pleasure and prolonging the exquisite torment.

I writhed beneath him, my hands gripping the sheets as I surrendered to the waves of ecstasy crashing over me. He didn't relent, his mouth and hands continuing their assault until I was teetering on the edge of release. His fingers joined in, slipping inside me with a deftness that sent shivers through my entire body.

"Gwayne," I cried out, my voice a desperate plea.

He looked up, his eyes locking with mine, and in that moment, he gave me exactly what I needed. The world seemed to shatter around me as I was consumed by a powerful climax, my body arching off the bed as I called out his name.

As the waves of pleasure began to ebb, Gwayne shifted his focus, his lips capturing mine in a passionate, commanding kiss. I could taste my pleasure on his lips, and it only fueled my desire further. 

Drawing him closer, my hands roamed over his muscular back, feeling the tension and strength beneath my fingertips.

He aligned himself at my entrance, his eyes locked with mine as he gradually pressed inside. The sensation was exquisite, a slow, delicious stretch that filled me. I gasped and wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him deeper.

Gwayne moved with a steady, deliberate rhythm, each thrust deep and measured. His touch was methodical, aimed at drawing out my pleasure. His hands roamed my hips and thighs, while his lips lavished attention on my neck and breasts, his kisses and nibbles making me shiver with delight.

"Gods, you feel incredible," he murmured against my skin, his voice thick with desire.

I could only moan in response, my fingers gripping his shoulders as I met his thrusts. Our bodies moved in seamless harmony, the friction and heat between us building steadily. When he shifted his angle slightly, the head of his shaft brushed against a sensitive spot deep inside me, sending jolts of pleasure through my core.

I cried out, my nails scraping down his back as I clung to him, overwhelmed by the sensations.

"Right there," I gasped, my voice trembling. "Don't stop."

Gwayne responded to my plea, his movements growing more intense and urgent. His gaze remained fixed on mine, driving me higher and higher. The pressure inside me built to a crescendo, the promise of release just beyond my grasp.

"Cum for me, Princess," he whispered, his voice a rough command.

I unravelled beneath him, my body trembling violently as the force of my orgasm overtook me. Gwayne's thrusts continued unabated, extending my pleasure and drawing out every lingering wave of ecstasy. He maintained a steady rhythm, even as my muscles tightened around him, pulling him in with each wave of release.

As my climax subsided, he quickened his pace, his own need apparent in the way his body tensed and his breath came in ragged bursts. I could feel him approaching the edge, his control slipping as he sought his own release.

With a groan, he plunged deep one final time, his body convulsing as he reached his peak. I held him close, feeling the warmth of his release fill me as our bodies remained entwined in the aftermath.

For a moment, we lay there, tangled together, our breaths mingling as we came down from the heights of our pleasure. Gwayne's hand brushed my hair from my face, his touch gentle and tender.

"You, Princess, are truly remarkable," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration.

I smiled, a sense of satisfaction washing over me. "And you, Ser Gwayne, have more than redeemed yourself."

A/n - Who knew saving face was such a literal term in medieval jousting x

Gwayne tag list - @deniixlovezelda

[bexalert]

Zuko

• Zuko is such a good boyfriend!!!

• Or atleast, he tries to be.

• Communication doesn’t come easy to him, but he’ll try his hardest for you!

• He’s really insecure, and gets afraid you’re going to up and leave.

(just like his momma 😛)

• So constant reassurance is needed.

• He’s not a big fan of PDA, but when you’re alone he’s all over you.

• He loves spooning 🤭

• He has trouble sleeping, but having you in his arms really puts him at ease.

• You’re the only person he lets touch his scar.

• And if you compliment it, he gets so flustered.

• Like his face will become beet red

• He also loves seeing you bond with his uncle!

• He’s glad that his two favorite people get along.

• Zuko can get jealous easily.

• Like if he sees some random guy flirting with you, he’ll grab your hand and just glare at the guy.

• Huffing and puffing the whole time

• He’s just the cutest ever, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s also the fire lord

• “Uncle invited us over for tea.”

Sokka

• When I say this boy is whipped for you, I mean WHIPPED.

• He’s genuinely just a big puppy dog, and he’ll do anything for you.

• He’s the biggest dork and is constantly trying to find ways to impress you.

• “Hey, (Y/N)! Look at this- AH!”

• Of course it backfires most of the time, but it’s the thought that counts.

• He will stick to you like glue

• He’s always holding your hand, or hugging you, or linking your arm with his.

• He is not shy or embarrassed about how he feels about you.

• Everyone will know!

• He can be a bit overprotective.

• He tries not to be, but sometimes he just gets so worried. Especially if you were with him before taking down Ozai.

• He’s lost so many people, so he feels like he needs to protect you.

• Obviously he doesn’t, but sometimes his over protectiveness gets the better of him.

• He loves hanging out with you and his friends, seeing you all together just makes him so happy.

• But he also loves alone time with you!!!

• Remember the scene where Sokka was waiting for Suki in their tent?

(Sokka the last backbender)

• That’s all I’m saying about that

• Anyways!

• He loves complimenting you! And he loves when you compliment him!!

• He beams like a child if you say anything even remotely nice to him.

• I’m in love with this man.

��� “You’re not gonna leave me to be the moon, right?”

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Ok but imagine 42! Miles with a s/o who's literally the complete opposite of him in terms of aesthetic but she helps him when he's the prowler. Like nobody would expect the sweet, energetic, girl with the "Mabel pines" energy to be the gal in the chair for the prowler and making his weapons and at the same time being his girlfriend. They're a literal force to be reckon with.

Complete opposites but totally work

(I love this and so sorry it took so long but enjoy!)

Mabel Pines!Reader

You guys work very, very well together

I can't even describe it very well but it's like yin and yang

He was absolutely gobsmacked on how smart you actually could be

Because not mean, he thought of you as a sort of airhead for a while

But he actually found it quite cute or adorable on you

But he did find out very quickly that y'all have very, very different aesthetics

To be frank you look like a rainbow threw up on you

While Miles is all gloomy and dark over there

So safe to say you throw some glitter in him and force him to be colorful

He finds it hard sometimes to keep up with your energy

But it good for him

His mama absolutely LOVES you

She sees how much Miles loves you just due to the light you bring into his eyes

You can give this man anything and he will pretend to not like it but raise hell if you try and take it back

You guys proudly watch the news of worried women and men on TV talking about jobs you guys pulled and tryna catch you guys

Y'know those sassy guys we see in Tiktoks?

He's that sassy guy with you when you make him mad or annoyed

Knees facing the other way with his whole body while he side eyes you

But he can't resist you for very long

He actually was quite shocked when he found out you had a little dark side

He always saw you looking on the bright side of things

So you partaking in his Prowler activities, much less MAKING the shit for them, absolutely shocked him

He found it quite hot though I can't lie

You're absolutely right when you're completely different but work so well together

Even Uncle Aaron saw it

He uses you sometimes as a little diversion

A fake damsel in distress might I say

He never actually puts you in danger a you can very much so handle yourself but he's always lurking around the corner in these situations

You are an absolute monster at anything Miles needs

New gloves? Done

New mask? Done

Fucking Ray gun? Why didn't he ask sooner? Here, it's in your bag

You absolutely stick little stickers on his crap as well

You can't help yourself

But he absolutely loves it

You sit in the chair looking all pretty but can turn intimidating real quick as he's sitting on the arm chair

Y'know those scenes where the bad guy asks their "dumb/weird" henchman like

"I have no idea…how about we ask (Name)?"

Those type of scenes and you can come up with the best shit he didn't even think of

Absolutely soul mates

Anyway, enjoy this little scene I made:

Miles breathed heavily, leaning against the wall on the rooftop to the door to go back down to his home. He was dressed as the Prowler, breathing labored from a fight.

Miles tried to breathe the best he could, even succeeding for a moment before his eyes snapped open as he heard the shudder of a phone camera and a flash.

Miles' eyes widened, hand in front of him as the flash died and he saw you standing there, blank faces and camera held out in front of you.

Miles and you stared at one another for a moment, nothing to say at all.

"Is that carbon fiber?" You suddenly spoke up.

"...what?-" Miles blinked, barely able to process this before you almost jumped on him.

"Ooh! How did you make this?!" Miles couldn't even breathe and before he knew, his helmet was in your hands as you went on.

"This material is tough enough but you know I could make a much better one if-" you rambles on, an excitement to your voice Miles knew all to well as you flipped over the mask in your hands

"Wait– hold on." Miles held his arms out, effectively causing a pause in your rant as you stared back at him.

"Y'know who I am…right?" Miles asked, slowly and almost trying to be intimidating.

"Um…the Prowler?" You muttered, utterly confused as you tilted your head, holding the helmet to your chest.

"Yeah?!" Miles exclaimed, eyes wide and hands held out like he was trying to get a point across.

"Mhm. Is this like…a trick question, or…?" You asked, completely unbothered by it all as you looked down at the mask, examining it as you merely glanced up at him.

"No! Just- why are you so calm about this?" Miles asked, shocked as well.

"Well, it's not really shocking. You sorta have the backstory of a villain, anyway." You shrugged, staring dead at him.

"...seriously?"

"Well, kinda. Sorry, is this like a bad time for you?" You asked, still not handing over the mask as you held it over your head, almost trying to put it on.

"No, just, you can't tell anyone about this." Miles said, grabbing the mask to hold it in place and off your head, almost dangerously close to your face.

"I mean, I'm not? But-" you started and Miles almost rolled his eyes at your excited expression.

"I can help you!" You stated, biting your lip in excitement as you almost glowed from the glitter on you.

"Help…me?" Miles raised a brow.

"Yeah! Everyone thinks I'm dumb, but I have dirt on everyone. Everyone. And, not a lotta people notice I'm there so I can get you a lot of info, or like- routes and stuff. I'm also good with my hands."

You went on proudly, Miles looking between you and your hand which held his helmet.

It took a moment, Miles going over it all in his head.

He finally sighed.

Miles opened the door to the stairwell, gesturing inside as your eyes widened in shock before you actually smiled, hurrying inside quickly as you rambled on.

Miles followed after you, a seemingly annoyed expression on his face, but the dust of pink across his cheeks from your smile gave him away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mushystrawberries @sweetheartlizzie07 @itstooearly-its3am @Ihavetoexist @kaorussgf @samsketchezz @yas-v @lovelymiaablogss @sussybaka10 @shisuishoe @sairavity @moonlight-rosevine @spectr3inl0ve @najiiix @popeheywardssecretgf @onginlove @sylisan @onginlove

[flamingpudding]

The Ghost King is my Uncle Drabbles

A/N: The original this sorta ties too: Original One Shot

>>Masterpost

Shovel Talks

Constantine swore up a storm of course only mentally. It wasn't like he was going to voice any of his thoughts right now. Not when he was faced with the good damn Ghost King. All he wanted was to summon one of his contracted demons to gather some information and what did he get the fucking Ghost King.

"Trench coat! We meet again. You worked on your manners, I hope?"

"Of course your majesty." Well he didn't but he avoided the freaking bats like crazy.

"Well I gotta thank you. Well you and my In-Law that's busy and asked me to substitute for your call since we meet and before and so on." The Ghost King casually waved his hand in a dismissive manner before looking around with his eyes sparkling in recognition and it sent a shudder down Constantine's back. "You are giving me the perfect opportunity."

Did… did the Ghost King just pull out a green glowing sword from a fucking portal and why did he have that glint in his eyes? Constantine paled. Why did this have to happen to him?

"If you will excuse me for a moment. I need to look for a Kryptonian real quick. I will deal with your problem right after. Promise."

With that the Ghost King phased through the floor apparently in search of Superman who just happened to be in the watchtower today. Fuck. Constantine run out of the room in mild panic and pushed whoever was on communication aside as he dialed for the bats. The moment someone on their end pick up he didn't bother to explain anything and just shouted for one of them to get their fucking ass here as fast as possible or superman was going to be history!

Okay that might also have sent the people witnessing his panic into chaos but this was a fucking emergency.

It was only minutes later that Batman did indeed arrived together with Nightwing and Red Robin with the Zeta-Tube at the watchtower to bear witness to Superman getting cornered by the Ghost King with Constantine bound by echo-bindings for apparently having annoyed the Ghost King with his pleading to spare the Kryptonian.

"Now I am sure I don't have to repeat myself but, IF you ever hurt Baby Bat a fate way worse than the Soul Shredder and the Nightmare Realm will be the least of your problems. The last guy that hurt my family is still in there and I will gladly make you permanently join him."

A cough resounded and Danny turned his head, a bright smile on his face as he spotted his little nephew and two of the little babies.

"Baby Bat, Baby Menace and Baby Stalker! I will be done in a little bit!"

"Ghost Ki-"

"Uncle Danny."

Batman let out a suffering sigh as Nightwing and Red Robin snickered.

"Uncle Danny. Why are you threatening Superman?"

"Because Jazz forbade me to use the Soul Shredder on humans but Superman is not human so I am allowed to use it on him."

"Uncle Danny, why do you want to use the 'Soul Shredder'" -as a joke Nightwing used air quotes- "on the him in the first place?"

"Shovel talk."

Batman chocked and Red Robin spluttered as Nightwing had a hard time suppressing a laugh. Constantine and Superman gapped at the Ghost King.

"You… are threading him for shovel talk purposes? What even is the nightmare realm?"

"A place you don't want to be in. Very traumatic and perfect to externally punish anyone that hurts my family in any regard as long as I am allowed to dump them there."

There was an added barely hearable grumble of "I would have sent the Joker and Ra's in there long ago if Clockwork weren't such a stick in the mud about keeping the timeline straight and their roles and bla bla bla."

Red Robin did a double take. Did the Ghost King just admit that he would have liked to sent their rogues into a place that was most likely hell? Wait didn't he mention sending someone in there permanently earlier.

No one noticed Superman slowly inching away from the blade still pointed at him while the Ghost King's attention wasn't on him. Well the bats noticed but didn't react to it, deeming it safer for the Super.

"Uh you said you dumped someone permanently in there?" Red Robin tried to keep the attention on them.

"Well yea." The Ghost King casually shrugged, adjusting the blade so Superman could no longer inch away from him. "I looked away from the Ice Mirrors for a week and someone dared to hurt Moma Bat. Of course I was enraged and snatched that guy off the street to permanently drop him in there."

There was a beat of heavy silence. Batman under his cowl bluescreened especially with how casually Danny just admitted at having snatched up his parents murderer to punish the man. Well that explained why he never found the culprit.

"Now If you excuse me little Babies I am gonna finish this talk with the Kryptonian and make sure he knows what will happen if he hurts Baby Bat."

With this the Ghost King turned back to the rapidly paling Superman with a feral grin. The Birds sweat dropped as Batman was still not mentally present, his mind still working through the information.

"Think I would be able to borrow that sword?" Red Robin suddenly asked as Nightwing eyed Batman worringly. "He only said that Great Grandma forbade him to use it on humans. He never said we couldn't."

"Don't let Robin or Hood hear that." Nightwing said, even if he wanted to borrow it himself too. With B mentally still checked out he had to act as the responsible one. That wouldn't stop him from asking their Ghost Uncle later if he could borrow the sword anyway.

[arkadijxpancakes]

Yes. The Weasleys had too many kids. An analysis. (Part 1 of 2)

Everyone who read Harry Potter read about the prejudices regarding the Weasleys: They all have red hair, are poor and have more kids than they can afford. Insert a sneering Malfoy here.

The books were adamant that that was not the case. The Weasleys are depicted as the best family in the books. (Just look at the others. The Dursleys were narrow-minded, bigoted and abusive. The Malfoys were bigoted terrorists. The Lovegoods were weird. Let’s not even start about Merope and Riddle.)

However, if you look closer, the prejudices have some truth to them: They had more kids than they could afford. However, money isn’t the issue here, not really.

Yes, the Weasleys are clearly depicted as members of the working class. They don’t have much money and fall back on second-hand stuff a lot of the time. Ron in particular is shown to be using hand-me-downs in book one.

However, they don’t live in abject poverty. The family owns their own home on their own land. They have a garden to grow their own vegetables and they have chickens. This means that food scarcity shouldn’t be a big issue for them, because they can produce a lot of it on their own. (Magic should make this even easier, because they can use it for the gardening stuff. And if we assume that you can duplicate food, this should keep everyone well-fed.)

The main issue when it comes to money isn’t that they don’t have anything. They have clearly enough money to stay comfortably over water. They just don’t have enough money to buy all the fancy shit the wizarding world uses as status symbols. (Like racing brooms and dress robes.)

Could things be better, money-wise? Sure. But one can have a loving, comfortable childhood, even with second-hand clothes and working class food. So no. It’s not about the money.

It’s about time. 

And it's also about how the parents divide that time (and the work that comes along with it.)

The Weasleys follow a family structure one would expect from a muggle family of their time (the second half of the 20th century): Arthur is the one who goes out to work and earns money, while his wife Molly is a stay-at-home-mother who takes care of their home and kids. It’s also just their nuclear family that lives in the burrow. There are no other relatives (no grandparents and no aunts or uncles, either) living there.

I find this a little bit weird, tbh. The nuclear family (parents and kids) living alone, without any other relatives and with the father as the sole breadwinner, is a pretty new development. The practice only really established itself after the Statute of Secrecy went into effect. It developed first in the upper classes (who used this to flaunt their wealth) and in urban centers (where there was no space to live together with your extended family.) Before this, living with one's extended family was very common, especially in rural areas, where it was beneficial to stick together. The Weasley’s don’t really have a reason to live as a nuclear family. There is no need for wizards to follow the Muggle trend, and things were different before the statute. Living with other, adult family members would also be beneficial, especially for Molly. And the books do suggest that the extended family is quite large, so “They don’t live with other relatives, because they don’t have any” doesn’t fit their situation either.

This is a common theme for Rowling, by the way. She tends to ignore the extended families of her characters, whenever it is possible. The numbers of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins that get mentioned in the book is incredibly low. (The only character who seems to have close connections to his extended family is Neville – and that’s because the other members of his nuclear family are completely absent because of health reasons.)

Anyway. When we look back at the Weasleys, this leaves Molly basically as a tradwife. (Minus the religious baggage.) But let's start at the beginning. 

(Note: I will focus on the books in this. I don’t consider the games canon and will not use them as a source.) Arthur and Molly were born around 1950. We know that he went to Hogwarts from 1961 to 1968. They were close enough in age to start a relationship while still at Hogwarts, and they married shortly after graduating. For this to work, she must have been in his year or maybe the year below or above.

Bill was born in 1970 and was followed by six siblings, the last who was born in 1981. So from the age of ca. 20 to the age of ca. 33 Molly was either pregnant or nursing at least one baby at any given time. (There might have been a short break in that pattern between Charlie and Percy, but it only got worse after that.)

As I said before, Molly and Arthur seem to have a very traditional division of labor between them: He works at the ministry and earns money, she takes care of their home and kids. This means that Molly has drawn the short end of the stick.

While Arthur is working one job 9-5, Molly has to work three jobs and at least one of them is 24/7. Let’s pick them apart:

Her first job is to take care of the home. Molly cleans the house and does the laundry. It is also very likely that she is not only responsible for cooking, but for food production in general. This means that she takes care of the garden and chickens. This would be pretty exhausting, if not for her magic. She can likely cut down on time and effort by using magic for most of those tasks.

On top of this, she is also producing at least some of the clothing her family wears. We don't see her sewing, but she knits a lot. She is using magic for that, too.

Her second job is to raise their kids. Molly is their primary caregiver and does most of the parenting. This is a difficult job to begin with, but there are seven of them. This is where her workload starts to stretch her thin. It can’t be easy to do the laundry, while Ginny needs to be fed, Bill and Charlie are arguing in the backyard, and the twins have just vanished. Magic is less helpful here, because a lot of the work requires her to interact with her kids. She can’t really flick her wand to speed that up.

On top of that - and this is where things get even worse - there doesn't seem to be any kind of elementary school in Wizarding Great Britain. At the very least, the books do not mention any form of primary education and Hogwarts seems to be Ron’s first school. But Hogwarts still requires its students to be able to read, write and do math. Having some education about the Wizarding World couldn’t hurt, either.

However, someone has to teach the kids. And this someone is probably Molly, because Arthur is at work, and they don’t have the money for a private tutor. They cant sent their kids to an elementary school, because there is none. (And they obviously did not send them to a muggle school.) 

So this is her third job. This is another job she can’t really speed up with magic, because she can’t hex the knowledge into her kids’ brains. (Or at least I hope she can’t, because everything else would be disturbing.)

This means Molly has to take care of their home, produce their food, take care of their kids and teach them elementary school-stuff. All while being pregnant and/or nursing for circa 13 years straight.

Her workload just isn’t doable for a single person. It might have started off okay, when she only had Bill and Charlie, and it probably got better once most kids had left the house to study at Hogwarts. But the years in between must have been hell. And she did not really have any help to do it.

Arthur was off to work most days and seems to spend quite a lot of time on his hobby. Additionally, he just doesn’t seem to be all that involved as a father and seems to take care mostly of the fun stuff. 

His parenting style is much more relaxed than Molly’s, too. He’s probably the parent the kids go to when they want to do something their mother would say no to. This, of course, makes parenting even harder for her, because she doesn’t just have to deal with the kids, but also with Arthur’s parenting decisions. There are no other adult family members around to help her, either. They also don’t have the money to hire help. (No wonder Molly dreamed of having her own slave house elf. It would have allowed her to drastically reduce her workload. It’s a really disgusting wish, but I understand where it comes from.)

This is where the family dynamics probably took their first severe hit: It’s very likely that Molly’s workload left her with more work than she was able to do consistently. Whether Arthur pulled his weight in that regard is questionable (and he was at work for most of the day anyway.) She also had no other adults to help her, so she probably offloaded her workload elsewhere: her kids.

Yes. I think it is very likely that the Weasleys parentified their kids, especially Bill, Charlie and Percy. We don’t see it with Bill and Charlie, probably because they had already left the house when Harry meets the family. Still, it’s a little weird that both of them went to live so far away from home. Yes, sure, exploring tombs in Egypt and taming dragons in Romania is fun and exciting in and off itself – but being so far away from home that mom can’t rope you into household chores and babysitting duty is probably a really nice bonus. It would also relax their familial relationships quite a bit, because moving away gives them control over when and how they want to engage. (And it’s probably easier to be the fun big brother to your younger siblings when you aren’t required to watch and control them every day.)

We do see it with Percy, however. He looks after and take responsibility for his younger siblings a lot, especially at Hogwarts. You can see it in the way he looks after Ginny and how he’s constantly at odds with Fred and George because they refuse to follow any rules.

Fuck, he still does this after the big row with his father. Yes, the letter he sends to Ron is pretty obnoxious, but he still wrote it. He did not need to. At that point he had cut all contact, after all. He clearly cared for his younger brother and wanted to look out for him, even if he did it in the most annoying way possible. It would be interesting to know whether he also wrote to Ginny or the twins or not.

Also, did I mention that the Weasleys have too many kids?

They have too many kids.

It’s a numbers game, really. The more kids you have, the more time you have to use for household chores (you need to clean more, wash more, cook more, etc.) You also have less time to spend time with each kid individually. This is especially true for quality time – so time that isn’t spent on chores or education. Time that is spent playing and talking with each other, just to enjoy each other's company.

Molly is already working three jobs. She doesn’t really have any opportunity to spend time with her kids equally. She’s too busy looking after the home and teaching the older ones, while watching the younger ones and making sure the twins don’t burn the house down. 

I just don’t see her spending quality time with her kids regularly, because of this. It’s just difficult to talk with Charlie about his favorite dragons or read something to Percy or to play with Ron, when there is always someone else who needs her more. Full diapers. Empty stomachs. Unyielding stains of unknown origin on Arthur's work robes. A sudden explosion on the second floor. And probably everything at the same time and all the time.

So yeah. Chances are that her attention and her affection can be pretty hard to come by at times. (To a certain degree, this also applies to Arthur, because he is away from home so much.)

Let’s look at the timeline.

It probably starts pretty harmless:

1970 - Bill is born, and he’s the only kid for two years. Yeah, it’s Molly’s first child, and she is a really young mother, but she is a stay-at-home-mum, and it’s just one kid. It’s mostly her and Bill who are at home, and her workload isn’t all that big, because she can use magic for most stuff. The war has started, but it probably hasn’t kicked into overdrive just yet, so this shouldn’t affect her too much either.

1972 – Charlie is born. Molly’s workload is expanding, but things should still be pretty manageable. Also, they don’t have another kid for almost four years. This allows Molly to adjust to caring for two kids. She can also relax from both pregnancies and births. If it wasn’t for the war, this might be her favorite years as a mother.

When Arthur is involved in parenting Bill and Charlie, it’s probably on the weekends. I can imagine him taking them out to do fun stuff, so their mother can get some rest. It’s probably a great time for him, because he can bond with his boys. I can’t see him do much more than that, though. Molly has a handle on things, and interfering could be seen as overstepping.

1976 – Percy is born. This is probably the moment, where the attention-distribution in the family gets a little bit wonky. Molly has three kids now, and it’s the middle of the war. Bill is almost six, which means that she has to start teaching him, while simultaneously nursing Percy and keeping Charlie entertained/away from trouble. This is probably still manageable. She can wait a little longer with teaching Bill, so she can teach him and Charlie together. She can also hand him (and maybe Charlie) over to Arthur, so he can teach him/them on weekends.

Additionally, Arthur is probably still taking Bill and Charlie out for some bonding-fun-time. However, the war is in full swing now, so leaving the house gets increasingly dangerous. Their trips will get shorter and stay closer to home. They will happen less frequently, too. He will also end up working more because of the war, doing overtime much more frequently. When he is home, he is going to be exhausted, as a result.

1978 – Fred and George are born. The attention-distribution in the family falls off a cliff.

This is when Molly's workload starts to become overwhelming. Charlie will be 6 at the end of the year, Bill will be 8. She has to start teaching them, if she hasn’t already. Otherwise, Bill will not be ready when he starts Hogwarts.

And on top of everything, Molly has to take care of the twins. She has to do everything that needs to be done for a newborn – times two.

So her workload explodes. Molly is raising five kids, now. She needs to educate Bill and Charlie, nurse Fred and George, and has to make sure Percy doesn’t fall to the wayside completely. She also has her household chores that aren’t related to her kids. The war is still raging on. Arthur is probably tied up at work most of the time, and when he is home, he’s exhausted. And Molly will be pregnant again in a year. (Really, why do they have so many kids during a war? One or two, I would understand, but this is getting irresponsible.)

This is probably the time when Bill has to take over at least some chores, not just to learn how to do them, but to take some pressure off of his mother. This might not be parentification yet, but it will get worse over time. I assume he has to look after his younger brothers a lot.

On top of all that, it is increasingly hard to shield the kids from the war. At least Bill and Charlie are old enough to understand that things are really, really wrong and scary. And there is not much Molly can do about it.

1980 - Ron is born. The twins are already old enough to open cupboards. Molly is not having a great time. She probably hands over Percy to Bill and Charlie (“Go, play with your little brother!”), so she can take care of baby Ron while keeping an eye on the twin shaped chaos that is growing by the day. She will be pregnant again in a couple of months.

Bill (who will be 10 at the end of the year) and Charlie (8) still require teaching. Percy (4) isn’t old enough just yet, but he will be, soon. (And, let’s face it: It’s Percy. Chances are that he wants to learn, even now.)

The war is still in full swing. Arthur is still overworked and underpaid. Everyone is tired and scared. This also affects the kids. There is probably a lot of pressure on Bill as the oldest brother to watch over his younger siblings, to make sure all of them stay safe. They don’t spend much time outside their home, because it’s just too dangerous to do so.

Around 1980/81 is also the time when Molly’s brothers Fabian and Gideon die. (Gideon can be seen in the photograph that was taken of the Order before James and Lily went into hiding, so he was still alive back then. But we know that he dies soon after the photograph was taken.) Molly never talks about her brothers in canon, but this must have been horrible for her.

1981 – Ginny is born. They are seven kids now. Fabian and Gideon will be dead by the end of the year (if they aren’t already.) Molly’s workload is at its peak, while her ability to pay equal amounts of attention to her kids is at an all-time low. She’s grieving, the rest of her family is in danger, and Arthur is stuck at the ministry. This means that she will likely lean on Bill’s support even more. As Charlie is 8 now (and will be 9 at the end of the year), Molly might consider him old enough to help, so he might see an increase in responsibility, too. At this point, we are in parentification-territory.

With each day, the twins grow more into the troublemakers we see in canon. This sucks away attention and affection from their siblings (simply because they need to be watched and disciplined).

I think the following years are very formative for the family dynamics between the kids. It’s probably less pronounced for Bill and Charlie (who are stuck with chores and babysitting-duty and will leave for Hogwarts soon-ish) and Ginny (who gets more attention because she is the youngest child and only girl). It’s worse for the others. Percy, Fred, George and Ron are basically in direct competition for their mother's attention. I think the dynamic develops as follows:

Fred and George are active and pretty extroverted. They explore a lot and start to play pranks on their family members. This is overall harmless, but Molly has to pay attention to them, to make sure that no one accidentally gets hurt. From this, the twins learn that they can get Molly’s attention by causing trouble, so they will lean into it even more.

This sucks away attention from Percy and Ron. It causes Percy to veer hard into the opposite direction: He tries to gain Molly’s attention by following all her rules and fulfilling her wishes. This earns him her affection and will turn him into her golden child in the long run. It will also put a strain on his relationship with the twins, because Molly compares them a lot, especially when angry. This will cause Percy to perform the “Good boy”-role even harder (because he doesn’t want to be treated like the twins), while they start to resent him on some level.

Ron on the other hand is still too young to affect the family dynamic on his own. He internalizes that his mother cares more about his siblings and that there is nothing he can do about it.

The only good news: At the end of the year, the war ends. This will bring a lot of relief. (It’s short term relief for now, things will need some time to go back to normal.)

However, the end of the war also means, that Percy gets a pet. Either late in 1981 or early in 1982 he (or another member of the family) finds a rat that is missing a finger on its front paw. Percy keeps him and calls him Scabbers.

We all know who Scabbers is, of course. I just want to highlight how fucked up this situation is. Percy is 5, when he adopts him. Because he was a little kid, he probably took him everywhere without a second thought – into the bathroom, into his bed, you know, everywhere. There is probably no part of Percy’s body Scabbers hasn’t seen. Percy probably told him everything, too, all his worries, all of his fears. It’s just creepy.

And keep in mind, Scabbers – Peter – is not just a random wizard. He is a Death Eater and mass murderer. We don’t know if he ever hurt Percy (there are fanfics that do explore that possibility). He probably didn’t, but the idea alone is nightmare fuel.

To get this back on track: This could have impacted the sibling-relationship, too. It depends on whether the other kids were allowed to keep pets.

With that, we are done with the war and with Molly’s time being pregnant. The family dynamic is already fucked up – and it will get worse, as the kids get older. However, this post is long enough, already. So we’ll take a break here. Next time, we will look at how the dynamics shift, once the kids start to go to Hogwarts. See ya!

[world-of-aus]

Pairing: Cowboy!Bucky x Nanny!Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: I'm honestly still in my cowboy era and have also been wanting to try my hand at making a series so I bring you this little piece! I have it more less planned and hope you all will stick around and enjoy this ride with me! Happy Readings!

The iron gate is warm under his touch, the rising sun low enough in the sky that the iron railing has now begun to cool. He watches his dark-haired boy run around the ‘arena’; lasso gripped tightly in his small hands as he gives the calf chase.  

Bucky chuckles smile pulling at his lips as he calls out to his son, “champ you got to get that rope off the ground if you want to catch ‘im”. The boy all but stops in his track, feet throwin up dirt chocolate eyes locking on his, “the ropes to long daddy, I’m trying!” he pouts.  

Clambering off the rails his feet hit the dirt as he makes his way into the gated ‘arena’ closing the distance between him and his son. He gets down to eye level, pout still adorning his boy’s lips, “you, Uncle Steve, and Sam make this look so easy, I don’t get what I’m doing wrong, I'm doing exactly how I see you do it.” 

“Not doing anything wrong champ, c’mere,” he says pulling his son close. “Put your hand here, and wrap this,” he says adjusting his sons' hands, “right here, make sure it’s tight now, don’t want to lose your grip on it and risk that calf getting away from you now.”  

Grant follows his father’s directions, “alright, now that we got the rope secured let's get it above our heads.” He helps his son get the rope going, “see, you’re getting it, now, I want you to throw it right at that spot over there imagine the calf's just sitting, focus now,” He advises finger pointed to a spot just feet ahead. Bucky watches his son, tongue peeked out of his lips as he concentrates, rope still swinging. It falls quiet for a moment, then the soft thud of rope hitting dirt meets their ears. Grants grin is wide as he snaps his head back to look at his dad, “I did it daddy! I did it!” He mirrors his son’s smile pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug, lips finding the side of his chocolate locks, “knew you could bud, knew you could.” 

“I can’t wait to tell Aunt Tasha about it!” the boy’s excitement grows, “well how about we get a few more rounds of practice in, we still got some time before she gets here.” 

They’re outside in the arena practicing till the sun begins to dip into the west horizon making way for the moon and stars that have begun to decorate the still early night sky. Bucky leads him and his son from the arena, leaving the calf with his mom in the barn before they make their way to the house. Steve’s truck is parked out front, him and Natasha sitting on the porch waiting. 

Grant spots his aunt and uncle first, excitement hardly contained as he drops his dad’s hand bolting to the front porch, his aunt’s name on his lips. Bucky stops by the front of Steve’s truck watching his son, he’s in Natasha’s arms, raving about his day to them, Steve and Natasha hearing him with wonder in their eyes. 

“You’re going to be running circles around the arena in no time bud, put all of us to shame, especially your dad” Steve teases meeting his eyes. 

Bucky laughs, “The day he puts me to shame in the arena will be the greatest day of my life, means I taught him well.’ 

“While we can’t wait for the day he puts ALL OF YOU to shame, I’d like to enjoy my little man while I can, right champ?” Natasha grins hoisting the boy higher on her hip. Grant is taken with his aunt hands curling around her neck as he squeezes her there cheeks mushing together. 

There’s an ache in Bucky’s chest as he watches the scene before him, like the many restless nights he has he can’t help but to think in this moment what he could have done differently, what he could have said to make her stay. He’s her carbon copy, he hates it. She doesn’t deserve to have any piece of him, not after she just up and left without so much as a word. Bucky still recalls the urgent call from the daycare asking if anyone would be coming for Grant. He hadn’t been able to get ahold of her since that day, not that he’s tried much since Grant’s 3rd birthday. 

“Buck - hey pal everything good, you sure you still wanna meet Sam at thirsty barrel?” 

The brunette is pulled from his reverie, eyes falling on his best friend who has since approached him, he shakes his head, “yeah - yeah pal sorry just thinking.” He looks over Steve’s shoulder, Natasha and Grant waving at him, he waves back, “have fun you guys, me and little man are gonna have some fun of our own, isn’t that right!” 

“Make sure he’s in bed by 9, 10 the latest.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever dad, get out of here!” Natasha replies waving them off. 

Steve and Bucky chuckle making sure Natasha and Grant get inside the house before they clamber into Steve’s truck. 

“You sure you feeling up for tonight?” Steve questions him as he turns the key in the ignition. Bucky watches the house, getting a glimpse of Grant through the window, “I’m sure, my thoughts just got the best of me but I'll be fine.” Steve puts the truck into drive, “she’s not worth it Buck, the day she decided to leave, cut all contact with you, with grant that’s the day she stopped being of any importance.” 

“Yeah,” he murmurs eyes drifting out the window as Steve backs out of the ranch, “it’s just I wonder if I had done things differently if she would still be here.” 

“You gave her your all Buck; I don’t think there’s anything more you could have given her to make her stay.” 

And though Bucky knows Steve is right, his words don’t sting any less. 

The thirsty barrel was in full swing, the bar packed to the brim. Bucky, Steve and Sam had managed to snag the last remaining booth, drinks being run to their table as they talked business. 

“So you find anyone to watch little man when we hit the road at the end of the month?” Sam questioned over his drink. 

Bucky sighed, he had forgotten, he had been so busy with Grant, with the ranch that he had forgot to look into a caretaker for his son. Another thing he would have to add to his to do list for tomorrow. He shakes his head taking a sip of his beer, “not yet, been looking around but I haven't settled on anyone yet.” 

Sam tsks, “We have two weeks before we’re needing to head out on the road Buck, and little man can’t come with us because of school.” Bucky places his drink down running a hand over his bearded scruff, “you don’t think I know that Sam, I'm trying, just haven’t had luck, can’t just trust anyone with him either, I need to know he’s going to be safe, cared for.” 

“I can ask Natasha to skip this trip Buck, I’m sure it won’t be a problem, she loves spending time with grant.”  

Bucky shakes his head at Steve, “absolutely not pal, I know how much Natasha is looking forward to seeing you ride, I can’t ask that of you or her – I'll find someone – I will.” 

A damper has been placed on Bucky’s mood despite the change in subject, and he’s quiet for most of the night tuning in here and there when Steve or Sam directs something at him. He’s there, but not really, his mind drifting to the thought of his son. If Sam or Steve notice his absence, they don’t mention it, nor do they push him to converse, they know how hard it's been for him since she left, and they try to do all they can to help him. 

They’re not at the bar long, Sam being the first one to throw in the towel, Steve seconding the notion, Bucky doesn’t argue as they pay the tab, each leaving a tip for their waitress. The trio say their goodbyes outside of the bar, Sam promising to stop by the ranch tomorrow to see grant, get some riding time in with the boy, Steve jumps in to join as well. “Can use all the practice, only got two weeks left,” he chuckles. 

Bucky and Steve see Sam off before they get inside the truck, it's quiet most of the ride home, Bucky appreciates Steve for giving him this. It’s only until they’re pulling into the ranch 30 minutes later that he does decide to speak up. 

“I’ll help you find someone for Grant,” he says putting the truck in park, eyes meeting his friends, “make sure that it’s someone we can trust, the closest to family that we can get.” 

Bucky nods, the fear of that not being possible choking him, Steve reaches a hand out laying it on his shoulder, squeezing, “I promise pal, we’ll find you someone, we’ve got two weeks.” 

Two weeks. 

Two weeks. 

Bucky’s nodding again, “I appreciate you pal, listen I'll go get Natasha for you, know you two have quite the drive, don’t want it getting late for you.” 

Steve gives him his thanks watching him get off the truck, make his way up the steps and to the front door. Bucky disappears inside, returning a few minutes later with Natasha. Steve watches the two exchange a few words before she’s pulling Bucky into a tight embrace more words shared. The two pull away and Bucky watches her as she gets into the truck safely.  

They all wave one final time at each other before Bucky heads back inside, the lights of his home flickering off one at a time. Steve waits till the last light has been turned off before he’s putting the truck back in drive, making his way out of the ranch. 

“How was he?” Natasha questions finding Steve’s hand. 

“He’s not doing good,” Steve answers, “he’s worried about leaving Grant at the end of the month.” 

“I can stay, you know I don’t mind, I can watch you ride anytime.” 

Steve looks over to her, “he already said no, you know he isn't going to go back on his word,” his eyes flick back to the road, “we just need to find someone he can trust; we need family.” 

It goes quiet in the cab of the truck for a moment, Natasha speaks up a few minutes later, “I might have someone, she’s a family friend, I could have her come meet us at the ranch tomorrow.” Steve gives her a questioning look, the redhead rolls her eyes, “Bucky doesn’t keep anything from me where Grant is involved, it’ll be perfect everyone can meet her, see how she fits in.” 

Steve agrees, and he can’t help but hope this works out, he didn’t want to see his friend hurting anymore, and he hoped with help that he might be the Bucky he was before her. 

[arosesstorm]

wreathe ; sebastian sallow

words count: long read

fem reader! x Sebastian Sallow

warning: jealous Sebastian

summary: Sebastian looks like her bestfriend under the sunlight, but as soon as the night comes the lines get blurry and everyone's obvious to it.

part one, I guess?

English is not my first language, trying my best, enjoy :)

Sebastian was known for being a charmer and a good learner; people whispered about his ability in dueling and his look was praised by many. 

He had a habit of breaking the rules and he was stubborn, as much as it was allowed. 

What most people didn’t know about him though was that the boy had in fact scares so deep, every once in a while they started to bleed. 

And god was Sebastian Sallow hot headed. 

"Ominis!" You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around the boy’s neck as soon as you saw him. 

"I missed you" you whispered into the boy’s chest, his arms slowly holding you closer. 

"Well well, isn’t this our very own savior" the boy muttered smiling. 

After everything that had happened the year prior, Ominis had been a constant in your life; exchanging letters almost every day over summer, the two of you had met up to hang out a few times too. 

He used to tell you about his family issues while you confessed yours. 

Your bond became so strong you felt he was the brother you never had. 

"Y/n!" You turned your head just in time to see Anne sprint your way and wrap her arms around your torso. 

"Anne" you smiled, embracing her, "it’s good to see you". 

She looked good, you couldn’t help but notice, her cheeks were pink, and she seemed to have gained a few pounds too; she was surely looking much better than the last time you had saw her. 

"I can’t tell you how excited I am to be back, even if I have a load of work to catch up to", a breath and then a whisper: "uncle Solomon won’t admit it but he’s happy he is finally alone". 

Anne left your side then to crush into Ominis. 

That’s when your eyes had met his. 

"No hugs for me?" The boy had asked, with that same playful tone you’ve grown to love. 

If possible, your smile grew bigger.

"Sebastian" you mumbled, letting the brunette cage you in a hug. 

Sebastian had always been your light in your time at Hogwarts: with all the fights, the heartbreak and the laughters he had somehow guided you through your first year in the magical world. 

Sticking by his side at first felt natural, like you two were somehow tied together; that was, until you grew attached and your new best friend felt more like a man to you. 

Everyone knew: you, Sebastian and Ominis were a solid trio, when you were looking for one you always found the other two nearby. 

But this year, with the newfound health of Anne since the death of Lockwood, your trio was about to become a quartet and you were somehow excited. 

"How have you been?" You whispered in Sebastian’s ear, his nose brushing against your hair as he muttered back: "Good, kinda missed you". 

"Come on guys! We’re gonna be late!" Anne was excitedly pushing you towards the great hall before you could protest. 

Back in your seats, with Sebastian’s shoulder brushing against yours, you realized how affected you actually were by his presence. 

This year was going to be a long one… 

The morning after, you woke up to an excited Anne walking around the room putting on her robes as she was chased by Imelda’s harsh insults. 

"Please shut up" the brunette pleaded as the Sallow girl kept on rumbling how exciting this whole journey was going to be. 

"It’s first day, can you guys believe it?" She squitted, disappearing into the Common room, leaving you two behind. 

"I swear if she doesn’t calm down".

When you saw the girl again you couldn’t help but notice her bright eyes as she was laughing with Ominis at the Breakfast table. 

"Goodmorning" you spoke, approaching your friends, sliding swiftly beside Sebastian. 

"Good morning to you" the boy spoke, gently brushing your shoulder once you were seated. 

"What were you guys talking about?" 

"Ah! They were vexing me" Sebastian spoke "it is fortunate you came to rescue me". 

"Oh Sallow, how many times will I have to save your ass?" 

Anne chuckled out loud as Sebastian let out a scoff "nevermind, you’re even worse than them" 

Before heading to your first lesson of the day, Charms, you passed by the Gryffindor table, hoping to see the friends you still haven’t had the opportunity to meet. 

"Natty!" 

The girl turned around with a smile, "y/n! How have you been? Did you receive my owl?" 

"I very much did, thank your granny for those cookies, they were amazing". 

"Which cookies? And why didn’t I get any?" Garreth’s voice rose from beside natty as you aknolowged the boy. 

His red hair were longer and his shoulders broader, it was hard to tell since he was seated, but you could definetly say he had grown up. 

"Shut up, Garreth" Natty had dismissed the boy as you left the table. 

Ominis was waiting for you at the entrance as you both left to class. 

That night, seated by the fire in your common room, you were reading a book while Anne was making small conversation with Imelda. 

You didn’t know how the conversation led to it, but Grreth’s name was brought up, Imelda noticing how much the ginger had grown over summer, pointing out he would have made a fine beater. 

"You were talking to him this morning, weren’t you y/n?" 

Your attention was suddenly brought back to the present. 

"Yes", "could there be something tender?" Imelda smirked as your nose left the pages to focus on the conversation. 

"Obviously not" you had replied, to which Anne softly smiled, "Imelda, quiet down, people are gonna hear us". 

"You’re no fun" she had replied, changing topic. 

That night, as you lied in bed, you kept on asking yourself if in fact you were somehow charmed by Weasley, or any boy for that matter and the answer came like a whisper, so soft you couldn’t hear it either. 

"Who do you think is gonna make team this year?" Anne had asked, walking with you, Omins and Sebastian to Hogsmade. 

"Why do you suddenly care about Quidditch?" Sebastian had asked. 

"I haven’t seen a game in ages!" She replied stern.

The bickering between twins bringing a smile to your face as you locked your arm with Ominis, "hey you".

While the twins bickering fell into the background, Ominis turned to you "what about this thing with Weasley?" 

"Ominis!" You scolded suddenly, taken aback by his comment, "how do you know?" 

Ominis scrolled his shoulders "so it is true? You fancy him?" 

"Who fancies whom?" Sebastian had token a step forward, suddenly intrigued by your discussion with Omins as you held the blond boy’s arm tighter, that was enough of an answer for him. 

"Oh nobody, just stupid chatters" the boy dismissed before Sebastian could investigate further. 

The thought of you fancying someone hunted the boy for the rest of the day, even when the night had quieted the chatter down and everyone went to sleep. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about it, so he left the warmth of his bedsheets, putting on a green and silver jumper and disappearing into the corridors. 

Making his way to the common room Sebastian was surprised to see someone else there. 

Their head was stuck in a book and their legs curled up onto the couch. 

He had recognized right away the silhouette and he felt like smiling. 

You had escaped your room that night, determined to finish the book you had been reading. 

It didn’t startle you when you felt a weight pop beside you on the couch, instead you couldn’t help but smile when Sebastian lowered the book from your hands, meeting your gaze. 

"Come back to me, will you?" He had whispered chuckling. 

"I was just about to find out where the main character had disappeared to" you answered, your smile betraying your fake annoyance. 

Sebastian chuckled again, his gaze shifting towards the fire. 

"Couldn’t sleep?" You asked then, your gaze worried. 

The boy hummed. 

This scene had happened so many times already: the boy sadly confessing the pain of his sister’s illness to you, in the dark of the common room, only allowing himself to be vulnerable in your presence. 

But this time, this time his sister was better, sleeping peacefully upstairs and you were there, with your eyes sleepy and your skin warm. 

So Sebastian found himself smiling as he looked your way. 

Your arm was resting on the back of the couch as it held your heavy head up, you were facing him, your breathing softly pleasant. 

"Do you really fancy someone?" The boy found himself ask, suddenly. 

You chuckled, looking at him playfully. 

"Why?" You had asked. 

"Just curious, you never told me you liked someone". 

"It’s not- it’s Imelda starting stupid rumors to see me flustered, that’s all" you reassure. 

He could finally relax, his back meeting the cushions as his fingers traveled to your leg. 

"You want to finish the book, don’t you?" 

"It’s fine" you laughed, but Sebastian didn’t buy it. 

"Come on, finish it, I’ll keep you company". 

It was hard to focus back on the story, with his hand tracing small circles above your bare leg, but it became quickly a gentle caress as you kept on reading. 

It was ten minutes later when you started to get sleepier. 

"Seb" you muttered closing the book, the boy humming while looking at you. 

"We should get some sleep". 

"Maybe we should" 

Neither of you making the move to leave. 

"I’m comfy" you admit laughing softly.

"Let’s not leave yet, then" he spoke. 

The fire was cracking in the background when you shifted, moving closer to the boy, your head now resting on his shoulder as you fell into the warmth of his body. 

Sebastian held his hand firmer on your leg now, helping you get closer, as he rested his head on top of yours. 

"Would you tell me?" He asked then. 

"Tell you what?" 

"If you fancied someone, would you tell me?" 

"Yes Sebastian, if I’ll ever find someone pleasant enough, I promise I will tell you first". 

Four weeks had passed since the start of term and with October approaching the air had got chillier and the days shorter. 

You had spent the last three hours in the library, making a research for a new species of mimbulus mimbletonia, something professor Sharp believed to be absolutely essential and you were ready to hide into the comfort of your room and fall asleep. 

"Y/n!" 

Your eyes travelled the room till they settled on the young man dressed in red and gold making his way towards you. 

"Hey, Garreth" 

"Hey" he smiled softly, "were you headed to your common room?" 

"Yes"

"Mind if I accompany you?"

"Hu? Ah no, you can come". 

You and the boy left the library, heading for the dungeons. 

"I was wondering if you had a spere hour tomorrow morning? If I can be honest with you I’m not keeping up well with Onai’s crap about tea leaves". 

You couldn’t help but slip a laugh.

"So now you’re laughing at me?" a playful smile plastered on his lips.

"No, no, I’m sorry."

You turned to your right, Garrett following behind as you started to walk down the stairs. 

"I have a free hour right after breakfast, sounds good?". 

Garreth’s smile widened "sound lovely to me". 

"What is it that you fail to get about the art of predicting catastrophes?" You teased as the boy stroke his neck. 

"I seem to prefer to see only the bright side" 

Letting out a stern chuckle you jumped the last step, the sliver snake appearing on the wall as you turned around to face the ginger. 

"First lesson: there are no bright sings in divination". 

You herd someone caugh as you turned around, Sebastian was lying by the door, his eyes locked onto you. 

"Goodnight, Garreth" you spoke as you made your way into the Slytherin common room. 

Garreth looking at you disappear before Sebastian followed inside and the door turned to be a wall again. 

"Escorted by Weasley, huh?" 

The sound of the water fountain running in your ears as you made your way downstairs with Sebastian. 

"It seems so" you had replied distracted, something that sent Sebastian’s soul on fire. 

As soon as you stepped into the common room, Imelda’s voice rose up. 

"So I was right? Weasley boy for the win?" 

You scoffed and Sebastian felt his body go still. 

Were you really going out with that loser? 

He didn’t know how much it bothered him, until the following day, at breakfast as he was talking about something funny that happened in his class you excused yourself, mumbling you had to meet up with someone. 

Of course, that someone was Weasley and of course, as impulsive as he was, he was tempted to follow you. 

"Sebastian" Ominis had called, sensing the shifting of his robes, "please don’t do it". 

Sebastian had scoffed then, returning to his place, violently eating was was left in his plate. 

He had time to calm down until he saw you again: your shoulders were moving up and down softly as you rested your head on a potion’s book, peacefully swimming into sleep. 

It felt like his anger disappeared for a second as he pulled a chair close to yours, his own head resting on the table as he looked at you. 

He stole a few glances at your harmless form, before squeezing your shoulder softly. 

He felt like choking when you softly smiled at him as soon as you your eyes opened. 

"Sebastian" you spoke, a voice so soft he thought he had never heard something more adorable in his life. 

"Why are you resting your head on the table?" You had asked then, to which Sebastian smiled. 

"I heard this is were we take naps" the boy teased as you shifted softly, a strand of hair falling into your eyes. 

Sebastian’s finger brushed it off softly, moving a strand behind your ear, discovering your face once again. 

That gesture might have woken you up suddenly because you jumped on your seat, quickly collecting your things.

"Oh god, I really fell asleep!" 

"Hey, hey, calm down there, will you?" 

But your panic only increased as you saw what time it was. 

"I was supposed to meet Garrett half an hour ago!" 

"Garret? Again?" 

"Yes, we didn’t get to finish this morning"

If he had known that waking you up would have resulted in you leaving him behind for Weasley, he would have much preferred watching you sleep. 

Sebastian got up at the same time as you, his anger coming back to him in waves, "does Weasley really need your help?". 

You looked taken aback "yes, he has told me himself he needs help in divination". 

Sebastian chuckled darkly, "and he asked you?" 

"Are you saying I’m not competent enough?" Your demeanour suddenly changed and Sebastian witnessed as your soft aura started to tint black. 

He knew this side of you, he had seen it one to many times and it didn’t scare him, in fact, it fascinated him. 

The fire in your eyes was matched now, as Sebastian grew taller. 

"I’m saying you wouldn’t be the first person that pops into my mind". 

You scoffed then, holding the books closer to your chest, pride filling your lungs. 

"How about you leave the adults to study and mind your business?"

"The adults?"

"Yes you child" 

You tried to turn away from him then, but the boy wouldn’t let you go far. 

"Hey! Don’t turn your back on me while I’m talking!"

"You’re not talking Sebastian, you’re behaving like a five years old"

"Said the one who can’t finish a conversation like two mannered people!"

Your eyes got bigger "are you saying I’m not well mannered either?" 

A sigh escaped your lips "listen Sallow-"

"Sallow?"

"That’s still your name isn’t it?" 

"Thought you preferred to call me something else". 

That unusual use of words didn’t go unheard from you, as you stared deep into the boy’s orbits. 

"Careful there, Sallow, you sound almost-"

"Almost what?" The brunette challenged you. 

You felt your blood boil as a voice raised from the students around"get a room!" Someone yelled out. 

"Shut it!" You both replied, parting ways, boiling inside, holding hands with pride. 

"She’s so stubborn!" Sebastian huffed.

"Mh what a news" Omins mumbled. 

"It’s just, do you even think she’s good in divination?" 

Ominis did seem startled by the question, but he answered nonetheless. 

"I mean, is there a thing y/n is not good at?" 

Sebastian couldn’t answer as he sighed flustered. 

"He’s a nightmare Anne!" Y/n complained pacing back and forward into their room. 

The twin of her best friend, who was at the moment an annoying prick, was resting on her bed, trying to take care of a strange purple plant. 

The Sallow girl hummed, listening to her friend rumble. 

"He practically attacked me! Saying I’m incompetent? After everything I did?" 

"You know he doesn’t think that about you" Anne scolded. 

"But he said it! The way he was looking at me Anne, I felt like jinxing him on the spot!"

The twin left a chuckle, "you know he’s protective of you y/n". 

Y/n fell into the bed, her hands tight knots as she sighed flustered, "the way that boy riles me up!"

© 2024 of Mia (arosesstorm). All Rights Reserved.

[silverhairsimp]

The dad osamu brain rot has been unbelievably real.

AN: complete and utter fluff. Osamu and reader have a daughter. Minimal dialogue.

Also: how is this my first Osamu fic/drabble??? I love this man. thinking of doing an entire dad series... lemme know if you're interested. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Find: dad!Atsumu here

Banner from @cafekitsune

Your daughter is only four and osamu is convinced that these last four years have been some of the best of his life. Learning how to be a dad, watching you become a mom, coming up with ways to parent together, figuring out his daughter’s interests… there was such a sense of sentimental pride when his daughter begged to go to work with him on the weekends.

Which is where your husband can be found without fail. He’s got your daughter on the counter, lending a hand while she shapes her onigiri. She’s doing her best, which is why every time the two of them do this, Osamu asks his little girl “you sure you don’t wanna be like yer mama? Or find yer own thing you love?”

She might have his dark eye brows and those beautiful grey-blue eyes, but she looks like you, and it makes him love her even more. She just shakes her head and looks up at him with big eyes and a smile while she eats the sticky rice off her fingers. “I wanna be just like daddy!”

Her cheeks also have grains of rice sticking to them and osamu can’t help the way he wraps his arms around his little girl. Clinging to these moments for dear life because he knows how fast she’ll grow up. How distant these memories will seem one day...

She’ll probably change her mind about wanting to be just like him. Who knows, maybe she’ll start to look up to her uncle Atsumu and wanna be just like him. Or she really find her own interests and forget all about the times they spent in this kitchen together. He hopes that never happens and this will always be something the two can bond over, even when he starts to age and she goes off to start her own family. He knows that’s years and years away, but he can’t help the way his mind drifts to the future, then back to the past.

He thought he was getting his hopes up, but when you surprised him with that going home outfit: a dusty pink onesie decorated with tiny onigiri on it. He should’ve known then, that his baby would be a daddy’s girl through and through.

And it’s no surprise that when she could start talking and asking for things, that the first item she asked for was an apron to match her daddy. You and Atsumu had worked together to surprise them both with new ones, since your husband’s old one was more than a little worn out.

At just two and a half years old, your baby girl was jumping up and down with excitement, waving the apron in the air and running straight to her daddy so he could put it on for her. Osamu remembers looking at her with the softest smile and tears brimming his lash line while he held her close.

Her little voice pulls him out of thought once more, “daddy? Did I do good?” He puts a hand on her shoulder and nods his head, “you did great, sweetheart. Wanna try to wrap it now that you’ve got the shape?” She’s already reaching for the nori with a frustrated little pout when more than one piece sticks to her fingers. “Here,” he brings a wash cloth over, with a little dish of water, “let’s wipe your hands. It’ll make it easier.”

She follows his every instruction, folding the nori where Osamu pre-creased it. “Should we make mommy some for dinner? We can bring them home and surprise her?” The light in her eyes is one he remembers fondly. He and his brother used to get that same shimmer in their eyes when they’d land a perfect set in a volleyball match. And he’s caught himself even more often now that he has you, his beautiful wife, and his perfect daughter.

There’s so much in his life that he’s thankful for and it’s all started with you.