#if you argue with me i will drop an anvil on you like they did in that one episode of spn

[hoshigray]

Hey, can I request some Toji, please? 👉🏻👈🏻 having sex with him after an argument and silent treatment for several days, but not like wild fucking, but kinda intimate and passionate 😔 like imagine you finally make up after an argument and he missed you soooo much and he want to kiss everywhere, look you in the eyes and praise the hell out of you 🥺

Damn, I need soft Toji bad 😭 wish you a great day 🫶🏻

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: arguing!? make up sex!?!? with soft dom toji!!??? ahhhhhhh—

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: soft dom! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - implied argument + make-up sex - kissing/making out - Daddy kink - oral (m! + f! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - breast fondling + nipple play - anvil/mating press + spooning positions - cockwarming - praise - unprotected sex - multiple orgasms - pet names (baby, good girl, mama, sweet baby, sweetie) - Toji being whipped + missing you, i'm so soft - itty bitty angst in beginning + fluff on SMUT on fluff - mention os spit/drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k

Toji didn’t like having arguments with you. They made you distant from him, pushed him away, and he’ll feel like utter shit until things subside after kissing and making up. And when the tension between you lasts for an entire week? Oh, that makes him experience a new gut-wrenching definition of guilt. 

Avoiding him is a torture he doesn’t want from you — oh, he can’t stand it. When you use the shower in the morning after he uses it in the nighttime, when your eyes don’t acknowledge his existence, or when you sleep far into your side of the bed with your back to him while he’s in a state of unease trying to find sleep without your warmth on him. 

A whole week of nothing but side glances and avoiding being in the same place as him, especially in your shared apartment. With every passing day, the pressure growing felt like you two were drifting apart — something Toji would never want between you. He already lost one love of his life; the mere thought of losing another was strong enough to have his stomach drop. 

It drives him so fucking crazy, especially when you’re in the kitchen washing dishes, Megumi and Tsumiki are at a sleepover, and him on the living room couch, supposedly watching sports highlights. But he can’t; his thoughts are too occupied reflecting on you — missing you. God, did he miss you — so fucking much that he shuts the television off and walks to the kitchen with a purpose. 

He brings you in with an embrace, spooking the daylights out of you that you almost jumped. You thank your stars you were done washing the dishes by the time he came around, or else he’d give you another thing to be mad about. “J-Jesus, Toji…! Scaring me like that, what are you—“

“I’m sorry.”

Two words — that’s all it takes to silence you, and your body stiffens in his hold. Toji takes this time to indulge in having you in his arms after such a break, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your abdomen and his face buried in the crook of your neck. The way your breath hitches at his lips on your shoulder, he kisses the skin exposed from your tank top. Fuck, you make him go insane.

“I don’t want us like this, baby,” he proceeds, sighing deeply when his hand creeps to your wet one to grasp. “Pushin’ you away from me like this, it’s drivin’ me crazy. Don’t avoid me because of dumb shit I did or said.” You were listening intently; the TV was off, so there’s no way you’d be ignorant enough to close him off. But you didn’t say anything yet, making the raven-haired man keep going. “This silent treatment, it’s fuckin’ with me; sleepin’ far on one side with y’r back to me, taking showers at different times, and not looking at me in the eye…” A kiss to the neck has you breathing cautiously. “Makes me think I’m losin’ you, and I don’t want that. So….I’m sorry.”

He can’t lie; the stillness between you two has him anxious, barely keeping it together and fighting the quiver of his fingers from showing. He nearly misses your signal — slapping his forearm wrapped around your stomach. Toji loosens his hold on you, and you turn around to face him. It feels like it’s been forever since the last time your eyes were on his for more than a second, and he freezes at the touch of your hands cupping his face.

“You’d never lose me, Toji,” you say to him in a whisper so the world doesn’t intervene with this moment. You bring your face to him to kiss the scar on his lip and return the hug. “And I’m sorry, too.”

There’s hesitance when he circles his arms around your waist again, but your frame on him gradually puts him at ease. “Sorry ‘bout what?” 

You peer up at him with your chin on his chest. Goddamn, your beauty was unreal. “For not apologizing sooner.” 

Toji hums with an aimless nod. “So,” he brings a hand to cup your cheek, and you lean to his touch. “Are we cool?” You nod with a smile. “Good.”

You repeat. “Good.”

A few seconds go by when his viridian orbs are locked in with yours before his face draws in close. “I missed you…”

Your eyes instinctively close. “I miss—Mmm.”

Your sentence is cut off at the contact of his lips on yours, asking for permission by laying himself onto you more and licking your bottom lip. With your hands enveloping his neck, you open your mouth to receive him. A moan slips out when he pushes his tongue gently, the hand on your cheek coming around to hold you by the back of your head. 

The kiss gets hot and steamier with every peck, the hand on your waist slithering down to grope your ass hiding inside your leggings. You wail as your frame hits the sink, and Toji uses this to cage you into him. A strong leg comes in between yours, having you essentially ride him as you lovingly suck his tongue. And it gets intense when he slams his face to yours, taking in your sweet noises that poke him to make more. 

Sounds of lips smacking together fill the kitchen space, and your hands find their way inside his sweatshirt to roam over his back. And Toji loves your touch on him; how he yearned to feel your fingers on his skin again.  

Oxygen is needed to carry on, so he breaks the kiss for you both to breathe. Heavy pants are shared at the union of your foreheads pressing together. You huff prettily with hooded eyes up to him, unveiling a smile as your fingers play with the black strands on his nape.

“I missed you, too, Toji." You finally say to him, sealing the fate for what’s to happen into the night.

“Hahhh, fuck, keep suckin’ me like that, mama…Shit, I missed this.”

You two are now in the comfort of your shared bedroom, no longer acting like strangers in your bed. Hands and lips show no interest in being away from bodies; Toji, in particular, uses this time to get his calloused hands drunk on feeling your curves, dents, and skin. 

And you’re on the same boat, placing soft kisses on whatever place you can find. His lips, his clavicle, sneaking inside his sweatshirt to tweak and lick his nipples before trailing down to the dent of his sweats. Pulling the pants down sprung out his hard-on, and you feverishly greet his cock with your mouth. 

Toji gets lost in the sensation of your lips and tongue, gripping the sheets at his dick and being swallowed whole into your warm throat. Fuck, you were so good at this, using your hands to stroke him as you sucked his glans harshly while gingerly massaging his balls. Your humming on him feels so good that his hand goes to your head to steady himself. 

“Fucking Christ,” he curses under his breath, and his hips jerk to create friction. He wants to come so bad, stuff your face with his dick, and pump his load into you. But no, not right now. He taps your cheek, and you bat your eyes at him. “Mmm, c’mon, sweetie. Let’s switch.”

You take out his cock from your mouth and a string of saliva sticks to you and his cockhead. “But you didn’t—“

“Don’t worry; I will later,” he squishes your cheeks, wiping spit from the corners of your lips. And he means that because being one with you is what he wants more than anything tonight.

But before that, he needs to have you be prepared for him. After all, it has been a week.

“—Ahhhh, ahhhh, Tojiii, I just came…!”

“There you go, baby,” his baritone voice rocked to your core, his tongue licking and sucking the skin of your inner thigh. “Keep makin’ a mess for me...”

He nestled between your legs, his mouth stuffed in the proximity of your cunt that’s been orally stimulated for the past few minutes now. All for the sake of prep, yet Toji missed being close to your vagina like this, sucking your slick with ease.

Fuck, your taste in his buds was nearly nostalgic. It all felt familiar — felt right. His tongue swirled around your labia to make you whimper, shoving it inside your entrance to essentially fuck you on his tongue, resulting in pretty screams as you grab tuffs of raven hair. And since you just came, your legs trembled with sensitivity, trying to close your legs to shield yourself.

But that’s not what’s happening tonight, not with Toji. His hands easily hold your legs by the back of your knees, exposing your beautiful, soapy chaos of a chasm to him for him to enjoy. His face is so crowded between your legs and folds that his nose bumps and presses to the hood of your clit. You cry at his hold on you, forced to take whatever his tongue gives you.

“Moohhh, hooohh, To’jiiiii,” you’re shrieking when he laps on your clitoris, and your frame jolts from the onslaught. “Stooohhhpp! I can’t…!”

“Yes, you can,” he removes himself from your slit, licking your essence plastered on his scarred lips. Toji rests his head on the thigh where his hand is massaging. A low chortle leaves him when you shake your head, sneaking his free hand to your cunt where his middle and forefinger insert efficiently. You gasp sharply, and his thick digits go to work. “Don’t tell Daddy you can’t, sweet baby; I need you to be all wet for me.”

The title he uses on himself has your walls twitch on him. “Hahhh, I’m wet enough…Ohoo!!”

“Aht, aht, none of that,” he coos while pressing a thumb on your clit, and you wail at him as he makes circles on your bud. “Gotta have you all ready for me…” The squelches of his fingers exploring your insides are hot to hear. Fucking Christ, Toji couldn’t get enough of you, trying to fight the urge to plunge his mouth back on your cunt when you smell too good to resist. 

His eyes flickered back to your face when you shudder at the scrape of his blunt fingertips on your velvety texture. “D-Daddyyy, I’m gonna cummm…”

You make him snicker. “Yeah? You gonna cum?” He takes his tongue and runs an excruciatingly sluggish lick to your clit; it has you gripping the sheets. “Gonna make a mess on Daddy again, pretty thing?” You nod hastily with a chewed lip, fuck you looked so cute being desperate for him. He removes his finger with a deep sigh. “Mmm, ‘kay, stay still fr’ me, baby.”

You find that impossible as he descends back to your leaking slit to lick and suck like crazy, his hands on your hips to keep your writhing figure from escaping the older man sucking on your nectar. Christ, you tasted so good, his jaw wet from pushing his face further in to have more of you in his mouth as possible, chasing you to ride out another orgasm for him to drink on. 

He’d make you cum for the second time that night. Something you know is essential as you’re soon bent on your back, your legs to the air supported by his shoulders, and constant wails fly out your slippery lips and bounce the walls of your bedroom. You can only thank the Lord that the kids are not home right now…

“Hmaahh! Nhhaahh!! Daddyyyy, Daddyy….! Too much, I’m ‘oo full—Oooo!”

“Hghh! Hhhshiiiit, this pussy…! Try’na milk me dry, huh, sweet thing…”

Clothes have long been discarded to the bedroom floor, and the ceiling lights turned off for the natural lighting of the moon to shower the space, Toji’s nude, powerful body on top of yours as he pistons his cock into you at an irregular pace. Sweat keeps the strands of his bangs sticking to his forehead, and hoarse grunts evade him with every dig of his dick venturing inside you. 

The position helps him go deep into the places both you and he can’t reach, his fat girth stretching your entrance and the tip stimulating your G-spot with grazes to your vaginal walls. His jabs become more accurate when he adds his weight onto you, caging you between him and the mattress to have your chasm tighten around him more. You howl, clenching on his length at every scratch of your sensitive areas. And it doesn’t help the fact he drives himself down to the hilt, balls deep into your creamy cunt.

“Tahhh, ohhhh, good God,” your eyes shut, taking out the sense of seeing to indulge in the others. The many sensations coursing through our fatigued frame are borderline addicting — given the fact that this is the fourth time Toji’s making you come. You’re practically drowning in the scene; any more than this, you’re bound to turn into actual putty.

Toji taps your cheek to have you open your eyelids for him. “Hey, mama,” your heart skipped at his handsome, disheveled look. Emerald eyes capture your gaze, and the smirk on his face lifts the scar. “Watch how good y’re takin’ me.”

Your stare travels down to where your sex is joined with his, white fluids exiting out of you and making a ring around the base of his shaft. You can sense the come from the round prior trailing down to the crevice of your ass; so fucking dirty. It all looked so erotic and forbidden to the eyes, throbbing on him a lot more.

“Daddy, please—Mmmph!”

“What, sweetie,” his hips change to an intermittent rhythm, evoking more cries to escape your pretty lips. He examines every feature in your expression, admiring how sexy you look under his bow. “Tell Daddy what you want.”

It hurts to think, but you try to muster a response despite your head going through such a haze. “Let me c’mmm on you, pleaseee!”

“Good girl,” he stops moving his pelvis to maneuver, standing on his knees, removing your legs from his shoulder to lie them down. Toji then comes from behind you, scooping you to his side for your body to mush with his in for a cuddle. You gasp at him inserting his cock back in, humming at the stretch of his girth that fills you up and scrapes your upper wall.

Toji returns his pelvis in thrusting motions, and your head rests on his forearm. The push of his dick grinding against your velvety texture has you squeaking in high pitches, a hand finding purchase on his rocking hip. 

“Fuck,” he observes you, looking so effortlessly gorgeous by his side — he missed this so fucking bad, having you near him like it’s where you belonged. The hand you’re resting on comes around to cup your breast, fondling the mound lovingly, which makes you arch to him more. His free hand brings your chin to him, “So fuckin’ beautiful fr’ me, baby…”

The kiss makes you clamp onto him tighter, and Toji reacts by dialing the speed. He trails his lips to your cheek and the crook of your neck to lay more kisses and suck on your skin. The hand on your breast squeezes it, occasionally pressing down on your nipple with his forefinger. Yet it doesn’t distract you from the constant stimulation of your G-spot, screaming and toes curling from the diligent strokes against the wall of your vagina.

Your brain turns into mush, spit coming down your agape lips, and your brows furrow while Toji squishes your cheeks. “Ohhh, Daddy, right thereeee, I’m so close…!”

“Me too, sweetie, a lil’ bit more…—Aiishh!” He can feel it, his length pulsating inside you when your orgasms climb together. He brings your mouth back to his, taking your delicious screams when your bodies lock in together to climax. 

A few more harsh thrusts to your ass, and Toji spurts his load into you, sinking into the pleasurable sensation of your folds contracting around his girth. Your hand scratches his hip, muffled howls taken by him while the hand on your breast sneaks away to grasp your hand, fingers intertwining to seek connectedness. 

Quivering bodies soon calm down when the wave of their finish is finally gone, and you two sigh deep into a passionate kiss. It breaks with a soft noise while he nibbles on your lip before letting go. “Toji,” you said his name in stifles, your hand caressing his sweaty cheek.

The older man huffs, placing his hot palm on your cheek to stroke in return. “Yeah, mama?”

“Sleep,” you demanded with a sigh, fatigued eyes and trenched brows. The single word has you both chuckling in the hot air between you before he kisses you gently one last time. Exhaustion takes over you both, Toji bringing the comforter to put around your bodies, laying his head on the pillows as you rest yours on his arm, your hand still held with his.

His free hand guides you to be pressed up against him, his cock still inside your creamy cunt. He’s comforted by the snug of your walls and the flesh of your body molding with his hot, sturdy frame. Sleepy green eyes go to the creek of the curtains covering the bedroom window. “Maybe we outta argue more often.”

He knew that would make you giggle; the faint rise and fall of your shoulder is highlighted by the moonlight creeping through the window. “Good night, Toji.” The way you said his name sounded like a spell, closing his eyes at the somnolent tone.

“Night, baby.”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x you #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x you #fushiguro toji smut #toji fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk imagines #anime smut

[autisticlancemcclain]

“The Exoxins are very…” Coran purses his lips, searching for the word. “Particular, let’s say.”

Hunk cocks his head. “In what way?”

“They’re quite fixated on personal appearances. They have been known to refuse alliances in the past when diplomats don’t meet their… aesthetic expectations.”

Before Keith can make a slightly mean joke about keeping Shiro on the castle, then (it’s been too long since he has been humbled), Lance snorts. Without bothering to look up from his doodling, half slumped over his station on the bridge, he says, “Well, we better send Keefers. Only way we’ll get a guaranteed alliance.”

“Okay, asshole, real funn — wait.” Keith blinks. That’s not the insult he thought it was. “Did you just — are you flirting with me?”

Lance flicks brown eyes up to meet his, eyebrows raised, amused smirk on his face. “Have been for a year now, thanks for noticing.”

Keith’s jaw drops. He feels a blush climbing up his neck like he’s a fuckin’ kettle, boiling from the bottom up, because what.

“What.”

“Keith.” The rampant redness on Keith’s face must give Lance pause, because he finally turns his whole attention towards him, straightening up from his seat and facing him head on. “I thought you were just ignoring me. You’re telling me your dumb ass has just been — what, completely oblivious to it?”

“I’m not obvious,” Keith argues, strained. He’s well aware of the snickering behind him and chooses to ignore it. “Usually your flirting is horrible and obnoxious and gets you rightfully punched, so excuse me for not noticing.” He waits a beat, and then tacks on, “Or tied to a tree.”

He’s gratified to see Lance’s smug demeanour crack at the mention of the Nyma incident.

“That was four years ago, dipstick. I was seventeen. It doesn’t take away from the fact that you are so thick headed that you are incapable of taking a hint. Did you think I kept finding reasons to be shirtless around you for fun?”

Keith sputters. He had noticed that Lance was shirtless around him an awful lot, but in his defence he was putting his braincells more towards memorizing a broad back and a glittering belly piercing rather than, like, puzzling out why the fuck Lance wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“I thought you were — hot, or something!”

Lance grins wolfishly. “You think I’m hot?”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Is that what you want to see?”

Keith makes a hoarse screeching noise in the back of his throat. It is echoed behind him, by all of his friends, actually, but for entirely different reasons, and he hates them all and they are all written out of his will.

Lance slowly stands from his seat, soundlessly stalking over to where Keith stands, leaning against a wall. Keith considers braining himself against a hard surface so he does not half to deal with Lance stupid sexy leer and sparkling eyes et cetera.

“‘Cause if it is,” Lance murmurs, placing a hand next to Keith’s head and leaning in close, “all you had to do was ask, baby.”

“I am going to kill you with fire,” Keith croaks.

Lance chuckles. “Sure, caliente.” He kisses Keith’s cheek and saunters back to his chair. Keith considers asking his lions to help him change his bayard into an anvil and chucking it at Lance’s face. It does not help his situation.

“Well,” Coran says awkwardly, after what can only be several minutes of charged silence. “the good news is that if we send you both that alliance is as good as guaranteed.”

#sometimes i let lance be smooth as a treat #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #pining keith #whipped keith #smooth lance #pining lance #flirty lance #flustered keith #fluff #humour #my writing #fic fragment

[pullhisteeth]

wise words | eddie munson

summary Eddie f*cked up (royally) and has to work his ass off to get you back. based on a swift song obviously [4k]

contains 18+! fem!reader, a bit of fuckboy!eddie, angst, arguing, grovelling, hurt/comfort, crying, eventual fluff, suggestive themes/allusions to smut, Robin and Steve being disappointed but supportive pseudo-parents

-

He’s standing on your doorstep.

He’s standing on your doorstep and he’s shaking. Like a fucking leaf.

He looks down at the flowers wrapped in cellophane and thinks, are they good enough?

Am I good enough?

Will anything ever be good enough?

Thick drops of rainwater run down the plastic and coat the pink petals and he resolves that no, they’re not good enough.

He knocked twenty-three seconds ago. He knows this because he’s counting, keeping himself grounded.

Twenty-four Mississippi.

Twenty-five Mississippi.

Twenty-six Miss-

The door swings open quickly, almost impatiently, as though there wasn’t nearly half a minute between the knock and the response.

He looks up and when his eyes meet yours he knows for sure this time that this was a bad idea.

“Are you insane?” you ask him. Concern cuts through the irritation, leaving those creases by your eyebrows he’s so familiar with.

He doesn’t respond, his mind elsewhere. He’s desperately trying to pull it back but it’s running fast, back to yesterday evening.

-

“Eddie, seriously,” Robin says, impatient, “you have to do something. This is getting ridiculous, and besides, she’s crazy about you, even if you did royally fuck up, and- Hey!”

“What Rob means to say,” Steve interjects, giving her a swift and clean elbow to the ribs, “is that you’ve gotta grovel, man.”

“But it’s been so long,” Eddie whines, running his hands over his face, a pattern he has grown accustomed to over the past few months. A fed-up, miserable routine of lamenting his deepest regrets to his patient but equally-as-fed-up friends over beers on the nights you’re too busy to join them. “I can’t- I don’t know what I’d say.”

“Here,” Robin says, laying her palms flat on the table, fingers splayed. She pushes herself up, weight on her hands, and leans over Eddie. He stares up at her from behind his own fingers and winces quietly. “You love her, right?”

“Yes,” he responds, voice muffled under the heels of his hands.

“And she loves you-”

“Does she?”

“-and we know this because we’re her friends.”

Eddie’s eyes flit to Steve, whose face is drooping with sympathy. Anyone who has been on the receiving end of a Robin Buckley lecture knows the feeling, and he has had his fair share.

“So what you gotta do,” she continues, dipping her head to regain his attention, “is apologise.”

“I tried that-”

“Properly.”

At this he gives in, huffing a sigh and dropping his arms to fold in front of him, quickly enough to catch his head as it drops to the table like an anvil. He hears Robin return to her seat, and then feels gracious fingers on his elbow.

“Eds, man, it’s gonna be fine. You’ve just gotta fight for it.” It’s Steve, being soft as ever, so desperate to see his two friends happy that he’ll relinquish himself to his affectionate side.

“I want to,” he says, voice muffled again by the denim of his jacket sleeves. “But she deserves better than me.”

“Tell her that,” Robin suggests, voice far softer now. “Tell her you miss her, it’s been a long time, and that you were scared.”

She’s clever, Eddie thinks, pulling that gem out from the archives. On a particularly bad night, maybe two months after it had happened, he’d admitted to them the truth at the heart of all of this: he’s a scared boy, one who resolved while young that he would never fall in love, never let the walls down, for fear that he’d have to endure loss any more than was necessary. Your love had driven him mad and fear had driven him away, and now he avoids three diners and nearly all of the gas stations across Hawkins, schedules doctors appointments at the most inconvenient times and definitely never steps foot in the movie theatre downtown.

“She’ll come around,” Robin tells him kindly. When he lifts his head, eyes regretfully filling with that hopeful spark, she says, “She’s mad, don’t get me wrong. But she’ll come around. You just have some work to do.”

“And for what it’s worth,” Steve says in a cadence that worries Eddie enough to make him lift his head back up again, looking at Steve’s stern expression, “she does deserve better than you.”

“Stop, Steve, seriously-”

“She deserves better than you if you can’t find the fucking courage to go get her back.”

-

Now, standing on your front doorstep, looking at you for the first time in half a year, Eddie knows Steve was right. He doesn’t have the balls to do this; he’s too afraid of rejection, and more specifically rejection from you, and this was a bad idea. You deserve better.

He barely notices when you step one pace to the left, and when you speak your voice sounds like it’s coming from the other side of a thick wall.

“You’re gonna get hypothermia if you stay out there.”

He moves without thinking too hard, because you’re right - it’s cold as fuck out here and he’s grateful for the humming warmth he can feel coming from inside your home.

“Just stay there, I’m gonna get some towels.”

He feels pathetic, standing in your hallway, dripping wet like a fucking dog, gripping so hard onto the flowers that his knuckles are turning white. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, afraid of getting anything in your house wet, but acutely aware of how stupid he must look.

You come back around the corner with two big bath towels in your arms. They’re white and Eddie feels the burning shame of ruining them but says nothing, remaining tight-lipped and letting you clean up the floor. When your fingers curl around his tense ones he stares at you, at the strange, unreadable look on your face, and feels the jolt of a thousand volts carry down his fingers and into his shoulder. Where your fingers made contact you leave a sensation not unlike carpet burn.

“These are pretty,” you tell him, gently pulling the flowers from his grip. The cellophane crinkles and it slowly brings him back to this, to you, and he nearly chokes on air.

He says your name, a pathetic sound followed by even more pathetic noises, and when you smile, tight-lipped just like him and brows turned down, he cracks, voice failing him as he stumbles.

“Get your boots off and meet me in the kitchen,” you say, your face unreadable as ever as you turn on your heels and step back through the open door he knows well. 

You leave him bewildered, like a soldier in the wake of a bomb, but he eventually comes to and does as you say. He debates leaving them outside, to cause you the least bother possible, but decides instead to leave them on one of the towels by the door.

His socks are soggy, slipping on the hardwood as he treads softly through your home. The reaction his gut is having to being here is ugly, so he breathes in slowly through his nose and wipes rainwater off his cheek with the back of his hand.

You’ve got your back to him, standing over the sink. At first he thinks you’re sorting the flowers, the way you always do - wrapping off, stalks trimmed, vase filled - but then he sees that, instead, you’re gripping the porcelain. White-knuckled.

For the first time he gets a look at you, or the back of you at least, because he’s pretty sure you haven’t heard him come around the corner. You’re much the same as before, except for the way you’ve cut your hair, and the fact that he remembers you in pretty sundresses and tennis shoes but it’s December, so you’re bundled in a jumper and sweats.

“I, uh-” He stammers, words catching on the edges of his teeth. He says your name again and watches you flinch. “It’s- It’s been so long, I-”

“Yeah,” you breathe, shoulders relaxing and grip loosening. You turn and lean back on the sink with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Just so you know,” he starts, and he can feel it, the fucking sarcastic tone that he can’t seem to shake. It comes out whenever he has to be genuine and it’s like someone else somewhere is pushing his buttons, controlling what comes out of his mouth. “-it’s been the, uh, the longest six months I think... ever.”

You look at him, more than familiar with this tone and this game. 

“Yeah,” you say again.

“I don’t really know how to-”

“Eddie,” you bite, words like venom. “Can I ask you a question?”

As he nods his head, a little bemused, you gesture to the kitchen table. He catches on and sits at the chair closest to the door as you mirror him on the chair opposite.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

You rest your crossed arms on the table and lean on them, peering at him.

He breathes in slowly.

“To apologise.”

You scoff and he flinches, recoiling at the sound.

“And how’s this one gonna be different to the other hundred apologies?” You spit the word, as though it bears no meaning. At this point, and when it comes to Eddie, it almost doesn't.

That’s fair, he thinks.

-

“You are such a fucking jackass, Eddie Munson,” Robin barks, raising her arms in defeat. She’s pacing the aisles of Family Video while he sits on the counter and Steve loiters behind it, sorting tapes. “A jackass, seriously!”

“I get it, Rob, thanks,” he drones.

“No,” she snaps, feet finally finished being aimless and instead marching her over to him. She stands somewhere close to between his knees and if it weren’t Robin and she weren’t about to grill him for all he’s worth, it might be endearing.

She jabs her index finger into his chest, straight to the centre of his sternum.

“You’re a piece of shit. An asshole. A douchebag. And I’m allowed to call you all of these things because it’s me who gets the phone calls at two in the morning when she’s crying over you. Again.”

He drops his gaze, his hair covering her wrist and his face.

“Why’d you do it, dude?” Steve asks from behind him. “Like… I just don’t see the… Goal, or whatever.”

Eddie groans and tips his head back, staring uncomfortably at the ceiling tiles.

He wonders for a brief moment, before answering, why the two of them are still friends with him. Clearly his end goal is being as inaccessible as possible, keeping everyone at such a far distance at all times that he can never feel remorse, or that he’s letting anyone down. But now he’s here, with his friends, and he’s let them down and, worst of all, let you down, too. More than ever.

“I was trying to make it better,” he says, and the jab to the sternum comes harder this time, and is the full brunt of Robin’s fist rather than her finger.

“That is bullshit,” she says.

“I was!” he maintains, exasperated. “I just… I started trying to explain myself and I just couldn’t tell the truth.”

“So instead you told her you never want to see her again?!”

“I-”

“How does that help literally anything?!”

Robin’s right, of course. She’s always right; too smart for her own good, Eddie’s always thought. But he doesn’t have an answer for her.

“She’s better off that way anyway,” he says, sighing.

-

He blinks at you, studying your stern expression, before answering.

“I wanna be honest with you,” he begins, “like, actually this time. And I know it’s been ages and that I have been…”

“Awful,” you suggest.

“Yeah, awful-”

“An asshole. The worst. Evil. Cruel. Mean.”

“Right,” he says, nodding limply. “Yeah. That.”

You lean back, arms still crossed like armour.

“I want to get this right,” he admits, surprising himself, “and I’m trying to work out how.”

You also seem taken aback by this, brows raising just a bit, your eyes going wide. You don’t say anything, though.

“I want you to know how sorry I am,” he continues. He’s sitting rigid in his seat and can’t find something to occupy his fingers, so he begins twisting a ring around one of them. “But, like, I don’t know how to get that across… The flowers were, uh, step one, and this is step two… I, uh…”

He’s stumbling again, searching for the words in a sea of insecurity and unsteadiness. You wait, sitting still and breathing shallow.

“I think I- I was scared.”

“Of what?” you ask, taking him by surprise. He was expecting a vast silence that he would have to fill with pleas, excuses, sorries and truths. He thought you’d leave him to it and let him down slowly at the end.

“Uh, of you. Of us, I guess.”

“What?”

He leans forward finally, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know how to-”

“Try,” you say flatly.

He looks up at you, unsure.

“Try to explain it. You haven’t even tried.”

Deep, heavy breath in.

-

“Eddie, you can’t, I don’t-”

“Fucking stop it,” he bites, arrowhead words ripping you open.

“I don’t understand,” you try again, voice thick with tears and your throat closing in. In fact, everything is closing in.

He’s leaving.

“Exactly,” he spits, pulling his shirt on. “Just… I’m going.”

“But-”

He’s out of the door, jacket in arm, before you can protest any further. Your mind is racing, spinning out in search of something that you could have done to fix this, or else something you could have done to cause this.

But you’re coming up empty, because you’d spent the day the same as any other day this summer: in your bed, entwined, wayward fingers and lazy kisses. Sweet nothings splashed in whispers across bare skin, and-

Oh, you think. Oh.

-

“When you said you loved me,” he begins, wincing at his own honesty, “I just… I freaked, it was scary. I… Honestly, the main problem here is that I was fucking scared. I am scared. I don’t know how to… How to love, or whatever… How to do it right and not hurt you, or me, or both of us. I’m useless, it’s why I’ve never bothered before and I knew, even before we started hooking up, that-”

“Hooking up?”

He looks at you, pulling his eyes back from their wandering, to find you bitter and your face contorted in disgust.

“You call that hooking up?”

“I mean- I-”

“If you think we were hooking up, that’s bad enough, Eddie. Hook ups don’t last three months.”

“No,” he sighs. “They don’t. I think I’m… Trying to make myself feel better about it.”

“You don’t deserve that,” you tell him, and though it’s cutting and it should hurt, your voice is so kind so suddenly that he can’t help but lean into it, tugging gently on the hands of care it extends to him. “You left me, after months of stringing me along. I was basically your girlfriend, without the labels or whatever. There isn’t another word for what we were.”

“No,” he agrees, dwelling for a moment too long on those moments of domesticity, the quiet mornings drinking coffee on your front lawn, the afternoons spent hanging the laundry and throwing stray socks at one another. “And that was fucking scary. I was way too scared, when you said you loved me that morning, way too scared to admit what I really, really wanted.”

“Which was?” you ask, arms still firmly crossed.

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs. “You know what I-”

“Say it.”

“You-

“Say it.”

He breathes, defeated, and looks at you dead in the eye.

“I love you,” he tells you. “I loved you then, and I love you now, and I have no idea what to do about it.”

You deflate, your arms going lax, face surprised as though you didn’t expect him to actually do it, to rise to your challenge and be honest. For a flash, he feels smug, but then he remembers-

“I love you,” he repeats - the feeling of the words rolling off his tongue is unbearable, they’re too heavy, they won’t stop falling - “but you deserve better than me.”

You breathe sharply through your nose in frustration.

“Why are you here then?”

“What?”

“If I deserve better than you,” you repeat, finally releasing the tightness of your crossed arms and planting your palms on your knees, “why are you here? To torture me? Not satisfied with the last six fucking months, huh?”

“No, I-”

“Well, Eddie-” You spit his name like it’s gone bad and it twists something inside him. “-I’m fucking fed up of you and your… How mean you are. You’re always so mean to me and I hate that I cried over you for weeks-”

-

The door swings open and Robin rushes inside, expression tight with fear and worry.

She calls your name in a tone that drips affection as she rounds on you, where you’re standing with your weight on the wall and a hand over your face. By now it’s puffy and uncomfortable, your cheeks raw from wiping them with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

“What happened?” she asks, holding you like you’re about to break and moving you across your house to the couch. “Did you argue? Or-”

“He left, Robs. Just left.” You sigh and it heaves like you’re sat under a crate of bricks. Robin’s heart aches, nearly cracks in two at the sight of you and the fury she feels for her stupid, good-for-nothing metalhead friend.

“Oh, honey,” she coos, wrapping you up in strong arms. As she rocks you, you cry, and she kisses the crown of your head and tells you, without much belief in it herself, that it’ll be okay.

“Steve’s on his way,” she says after ten or fifteen minutes.

“It’s okay, I’m-”

“We’re gonna stay here,” she says quickly, “just for tonight.”

You look at her, eyes glassy, and as you speak your voice cracks. “I love him, Rob.”

She looks back at you sadly, fingers gripping your hands. “I know.”

-

You’re on your feet now, pacing back and forth and he’s watching, transfixed, as your shoulders move up and down, powered by rage, understandably.

“-I cried so much because I had spent weeks working up the courage to say that to you, to admit it to you and to myself because you’re so cold, Eddie. You’re so cold and distant and I still managed to fall in love with you.”

It’s at this point that Eddie’s drifting eye, which is following you back and forth, lands on the cluster of picture frames on your windowsill. He recognises most of them - photos of the group of you, up by the lake or in Chicago, some of your family and others at special occasions. But one of them calls to him loud enough to pull his eye from you completely.

It’s a silly frame he found at the thrift store. It’s hand-painted in gaudy colours, brush strokes in swirls and bursts of yellow and purple and green. And behind the glass is a picture Wayne had taken one day when you were at his trailer, watching movies on the couch.

It’s a polaroid, as most of your photos are, bright cracks of colour and light caused by the window right by his head - his head which is looking straight ahead, big wide grin and happy eyes, and you beside him, hands on one of his thighs, pushing yourself up to kiss his cheek.

It’s only when you stop pacing and, more noticeably, stop talking that he realises anything is wrong. His face is wet and there are new drops of water on the table - not the drying rainwater from his hair, but one or two drips from his jaw.

“Are you crying?” you ask, hands on your hips.

“Huh?” He asks, wiping his face with his wrist. “I, uh… Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just-”

His eyes flicker upwards and past you, to somewhere you follow with your own gaze. It lands on the photo and you start, cheeks flushing warm.

Suddenly, the anger lingering in the room, filling the air and his lungs and almost definitely yours, dissipates. It doesn’t disappear as such - you’re still seething, breathing loudly, but it’s like someone cracked a whip and the dust lifted.

He calls your name and you look at him, wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you earnestly. “I’m really, really sorry.”

You breathe out slowly and he watches your chest deflate as you take a step to sit back down. As you sit he rises, stepping over to you on unsure feet. He’s tentative, waiting - expecting - an adverse reaction.

You watch him as he gets closer and lowers himself to the ground.

“You are not about to-”

“I’m not getting on my knees, if that’s what you’re gonna say,” he says, and his tone is light - too light for his liking, but he catches the twitch in the corner of your mouth and something warm blooms in one of the chambers of his heart.

He squats beside you, resting his weight on one hand on the table. He keeps the other to himself, fingers spread over his bent knee.

“I’m an asshole. In fact, I’ve been all of those things you said, and I don’t think I’ll ever be sorry enough for you. But I… I’ve had all this time, and some… intense conversations with Rob and Steve, and I… I want to try to be sorry enough. Or to just make it up to you, somehow. Because I can’t… It’s too hard, doing all of this without you.”

He knows how this must look, him on the ground, soggy socks and soggier hair, staring at you like a lost puppy. But the way your eyes soften, and the familiar feeling of the brush of your fingertips over the damp skin of his bare wrist, is enough to make him go limp.

“What’d they say?” you ask him, watching your own fingers where they trace aimless strokes.

“Hm?”

“Rob and Steve. What’d they say?”

He laughs lightly, embarrassed.

“Uh, that I’m an asshole. In fact, Rob, she made sure to tell me that multiple times. Basically every time I saw her. And Steve, he… He’s such a good dude, you know? But I… I disappointed them, and myself, and you. I hurt you so bad and I don’t know where to put all this guilt I have.”

Neither of you are looking at one another, but you chuckle, thinking about Robin. Her loyalty makes your head spin. And Steve, with his heart of gold, who held you all those times you cried and fought silently between his anger at Eddie and his love for you.

“I love them,” you whisper, your fingers halting. The pad of your thumb hovers over the protruding joint, stroking it softly until you feel the thrum of his pulse under your own. Your fingers wrap the opposite way, until you’re holding his arm like a bracelet.

You squeeze and he sucks a quick breath in.

“You really hurt me, Eddie,” you tell him, lifting his arm off the table. He wobbles and uses his free hand to steady himself on your chair, the knuckle of his thumb meeting the side of your thigh for just a second. You manoeuvre his hand into your lap, where you lay it flat. You both stare at it and all he can hear is your breathing and the rush of blood past his ears.

“I know I did,” he says. “I can go, if you want.”

You hum and begin tracing the lines on his palm. “It’s gonna take a while,” you say.

“What is?”

“Making it up to me.”

His eyes move without permission to your face, where he finds a barely-there smile and the beginnings of the crows feet by your eyes.

“Forever,” he says, knowing you’re right - it’ll take a long, long time.

“Forever.”

“I must’ve been crazy,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Hm?”

Your fingers are still now, resting on his, and he finally moves his own. His knees are burning from squatting and the balls of his feet are digging into something sharp under the linoleum, but he’s not thinking too hard about any of it. He takes your hands in his and holds them, backs of your palms to the front of his. He dips his head and kisses your left wrist and then your right, lingering to feel the thump of your heart.

“I am crazy,” he says. “I let you go.”

“You left me,” you correct him. “I never wanted to go.”

He looks up at you and pales when he sees the tears. Your eyes are wet and red round the edges and he thinks to himself that you’ve been doing this, crying over him, for six months. And it’s his fault.

The two of you move quickly and without thought. His knees buckle, giving into the strain he’s been putting on them for so long, and as he hits the floor he tightens his grip on you without meaning to. You’re pulled off your chair with a yelp and a clatter, landing in his lap with your knee dangerously close to his crotch.

Hands paw and wipe tears and you lift your leg to plant it beside him. As you stabilise yourself his arms come around you, too quickly at first; so quick he worries you’ll push him off, tell him to go fuck himself. They’re met by yours, though, coming around his back.

“I’m sorry,” he says into your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

You say nothing, and instead push your face further into his shoulder.

He feels and hears you sniffling, so he pulls you back gently. Some of his hair sticks to your face and you wipe your nose unceremoniously with the back of your hand, scoffing at him when you see he’s smiling at you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you tell him, looking away.

“Like what?”

“Like… That.”

“I don’t-”

“You have that look,” you say, groaning. And then you reach up to hold his face, and he caves, bowing into you in every way he can. “You’re so fucking pretty and it’s the worst.”

“You’re one to talk,” he tells you, enjoying the way you flush.

“Always the charmer.”

“It’s true,” he says. “Never seen anyone as pretty as you.”

He leans into your palm and twists just so, lips brushing the heel of it in a quick kiss.

“Flattery won’t get you out of this,” you tell him, your smile deceiving you only slightly.

“I know,” he says. “But it might help me.”

You’ve been inching closer to his face, and now you’re all he sees. You’ve taken up his field of vision, your breath brushing past the end of his nose.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“Wow,” you laugh, “Steve taught you how to be a gentleman since I last saw you or somethin’?”

“Stop- You’re ruining this.”

“Sorry,” you say, still laughing. “You were just never the kind to be so… chivalrous.”

“I’m hardly being chivalrous,” he says, matching your smile. “But now you mention it, yeah, actually.”

You lean back only slightly but it’s enough to make him deflate, unhappy at the new distance.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean… I was an asshole, as we’ve established. Needed to learn my manners again.”

“What did he say?”

“Can we please talk about this later? I just wanna-”

“No,” you say, grinning now. “I want to know.”

He groans, the hand he has spread across your back to hold you up tensing.

“I dunno, he just… He really did a number on me, y’know, telling me how I did everythin’ wrong and that I…”

He’s gone coy and you’re relishing in it.

“You what?”

“I… Steve called me a fuckboy.”

You bark out a laugh so loud Eddie flinches, but then he watches as you carry on laughing, nearly bent double, eyes all crinkled just the way he likes, the way he’s missed terribly.

“What’s so funny?!”

“It’s true,” you say. “It’s so true! Robin, Steve, I mean, we love you, obviously, you’re our friend, but like… They did say when you and me started, y’know… That I was in for it, that you’d break my heart, and I told them they were crazy ‘cause it was just sex, right? But then I realised maybe it wasn’t just sex, when you basically started living here, and we were more like… I dunno, like a couple… But they were right!”

He looks at you, aghast.

“They told you all of that?”

“Yeah! I mean, they were right, huh?”

“Yeah, I just… I didn’t know it was that bad, that they’d be able to notice that kinda thing.”

“You know,” you say, fingers tapping patterns up his chest. “Steve told me somethin’ else, a few months back.”

“Oh, god,” he groans, mind reeling through the thousands of things this could be.

“It’s not bad,” you say. “Well, it’s not one of the bad things. There were still bad things.”

“Right.”

“He said… He said he’s known you for, what, like three years now? And in all that time, before you and me met, you’d always have different girls, were known as a bit of a player at school…”

“Christ, okay.”

“But after you left me, Steve said he’d never seen you be so… Alone.”

Eddie looks at you in shock, so frightened by what else Steve may have said, but also by how you’re relaying this to him. Calm, stoic, unfeeling.

“I mean… I haven’t, y’know, slept with anyone else, if that’s what you-”

“I know,” you say. “I just… It makes it feel more real, you know?”

“I know I’m gonna be spending the rest of my life making sure you know I’m sorry,” he says, breathing out through his nose slowly, “but I mean it. I’ll do it. For the rest of my life. There isn’t anyone else. I’ll forego women, relationships, whatever… ‘Cause I won’t have time. Will be too busy makin’ it up to you.”

He noses at your neck, trying with everything he has to hold himself back from kissing you. The air around the two of you feels thick with laboured breaths and unsaid things - so many unsaid things, things he’ll tell you one day and other things he’s sure he’ll hear from you.

“So can I?” he murmurs into the warm skin above your collarbone, lips only a hair from making contact.

He feels your fingers come around the back of his neck, taking root at the nape where his hair starts. They curl around it, tugging him up, and then you do the dance - the one that always happened between the two of you in these moments. You dip in, so close, and back out, ebbing like a riverbank. It drives him crazy and he knows that you know it, so he smiles, and it’s only then that you finally kiss him.

As you move against him, lips and hands and chest and thighs, he lets his eyes close and his tongue move with yours, and thinks that this - kissing you - is much better when he’s being honest.

-

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie x reader #stranger things eddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie fic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie #eddie fanfic #stranger things season 4 #st4 #robin buckley #steve harrington

[moni-logues]

Germs

Pairing: Hoseok x reader (gn)

Genre: comfort, sick fic, established relationship

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: When you come down with the flu, the last thing you expect is your germophobic boyfriend to come to your aid. But Hoseok is full of surprises.

Content: I mean, honestly, nothing, reader is ill.

A/N: I'm feeling rusty and tired so the aim is to get out some short little drabbly bits! this is one of them! I have just written it in the last hour; it is unbeta'd and honestly, not thought through at all and not edited lmao but it's Hobi and it's cute so.

* *

You took a stuttering breath in and then let out an unexpectedly forceful sneeze. Hoseok’s head immediately appeared around the kitchen door where he was cleaning up dinner. 

“Was that a sneeze?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you. 

“... No?”  

There was absolutely no denying but Hoseok had been telling you for two days now that you looked like you were coming down with something and you didn’t want him to be right. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, coming out of the kitchen fully. 

He threw a box of tissues at you and continued on to the bathroom, via the kitchen. When he came back, he sprayed the air in front of you with an antibacterial aerosol, he took out wipes for the TV control, your phone, the coffee table, the snacks on the table you had yet to open. He placed a glass of orange juice in your hand with vitamin C tablets and echinacea. He pressed a hand against your forehead and peered at you closely, looking for a glassy eye or unusual flush. He did all of this whilst wearing a mask.  

You had long given up trying to stop him—it was futile, which is why you had been so keen to deny the sneeze.  

When he was satisfied that you had taken the tablets and drunk your juice, he put a mask on you, too. 

“No taking chances, treasure. You are getting ill and I won’t have it.”  

You didn’t protest. You didn’t argue. Once he hit this point, there was no going back. You'd be sleeping in your own apartments for the next week at least. You also didn’t have the energy. Because you were pretty sure, too, that you were getting ill... If you were being honest.  

* 

The next morning hit you over the head with a sledgehammer. Your body was lead. Your head was an anvil. Even the blood in your veins felt sluggish. You were sweating under the bed covers, stifled. You used all your energy to smack your alarm clock into silence and pick up your phone. You sent a message to your boss to let them know you would not be coming into work. Then you let your phone drop somewhere in the bed and tried to go back to sleep. 

But sleep wouldn’t come. You tossed and turned but every position made you ache. You were too hot and too cold. Your head felt thick and muggy but you felt too alert to sleep. Everything was wrong.  

You wanted a cool flannel on your forehead and some hot, healing broth. You wanted a blanket and a blast of fresh air. You wanted a cold shower and a nice, hot bath.  

You wanted a cuddle. You accepted that this would not be coming from your germophobic boyfriend, but a stuffed animal really wasn’t cutting it. You sent him a plaintive text and received a string of exclamation marks and emojis in return. He promised to send you soup but you wouldn’t have been able to get out of bed to receive it. He promised to send you medicine, but same deal.  

You knew it wouldn’t actually make the illness leave you any faster or make any physical difference to your body; you just wanted him close to you. His heart-shaped lips on your forehead, his long arms around your waist, his clean, musky smell. The comfort you felt in his arms, the security, the safety, the softness. You knew he wouldn’t come. He was an angel in all ways but his penchant for cleanliness. You knew his care-taking could not extend to comforting you while you were ill. It was just his thing. He had never said as much but you watched him clean feverishly; you had to listen to his chastising of you whenever you didn’t clean something the right way or enough or just let him do it. He was a perfectionist and it extended into every area of his life. Including germs. And you were riddled with them.  

You left your phone ignored and sank back into the damp, sweaty sheets and tried again to find sleep. 

* 

It did, eventually, find you and you woke, hours later, to the echoing sound of knocking and a buzzing sensation somewhere near your legs. You flung your arm around beneath the duvet to find your ringing phone and answered it, speaking your very first words of the day. 

“Hello?”  

You sounded even worse than you thought you would. 

“Ohh, my girl, you sound so bad.” Hoseok sounded genuinely sympathetic. “Come and let me in, will you? I’ve been knocking at your door for ages.” 

It must have been a fever dream. Hoseok at your door? Hoseok entering the sick bay? Surely not. But the knocking came again from the other side of your apartment and his voice rang through the phone, asking to be let in.  

“Ok, hold on,” you wheezed into the phone before hanging up. 

With tremendous effort, you pulled your leaden body into a sitting position and gave yourself a few seconds to balance yourself. Then you stood carefully and shuffled to the front door. You had to pause, holding yourself up on the door frame, exhausted from the short walk there. You weren’t entirely sure you were not about to pass out and if that was going to happen, you really had to open the door before it. So you took a deep breath and pulled it open. 

Hoseok gasped and immediately put his arm around your waist, taking your weight on him as you stepped backwards and let him into the apartment. You let him lead you back into the bedroom but he took one look at the bed and steered you out again, setting you down gently on the sofa. He was still wearing a mask and you saw him click open a small bottle of hand sanitiser from the bag he’d brought with him.  

“Have some water,” he said gently, placing a bottle on the coffee table in front of you, alongside some painkillers and yet more vitamin C.  

Then he disappeared and you heard him fussing in the bedroom. He came out with an armful of laundry and put it in the washing machine. He walked back into the bedroom where he fussed some more. He took several trips back and forth between the supplies he had brought with him and your bedroom. He checked in on you to make sure you were drinking the water he’d brought. He made you a cup of herbal tea. You heard the fridge open and shut but couldn’t see what he’d been putting in or taking out.  

At some point, you nodded off again, this time sweating into the sofa cushions and shivering with no blanket. When you woke up, you had been transported.  

The room was bathed in a soft, warm glow; the sheets you were lying on were crisp and clean and smelt fresh like detergent; the air smelt fresh, too, clean, not too strong. You were too warm, again, but it wasn’t just your body this time. It was the body of the man pressed against you, his arms around you, his head resting against yours. 

“Hobi?” you asked, your voice not quite yet woken from your sleep. You cleared your throat and tried again.  

He pulled back to look at you. 

“Hey, treasure, are you feeling any better?” His voice was soft and quiet, as if being too loud might hurt you.  

His fingers were light as they brushed against your cheek. His lips were as soft as you wanted when he pressed them to your forehead. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked.  

“What do you mean? I’m here to take care of you! Of course I am!” 

You couldn’t work out if it was your flu-riddled brain that was making you stupid or that Hoseok really wasn’t making sense. 

“Why would you take care of me? I’m ill.” 

“Yes, that’s why you need taking care of. Has the fever fried your brain that badly?” 

You used what little strength you possessed to push back from him. You looked up at him with a deep frown and his pretty, open face looked back, his lips lifted at the corners in a gentle smile, his eyes sparkling, his hair falling slightly into his eyes.  

“But I have germs. You hate germs.” 

He chuckled and pulled you back into him, pressing a kiss into your hair. 

“I hate germs,” he conceded. “But I love you.” 

#hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #hoseok fluff #jhope fluff #hoseok fic #jhope fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts fic

[distinguisheddwarffriend]

TH fic idea No. 2 (yes I have a weakness for MGiME sue me):

OFC used to pray to the Valar during her life (not believing in them at all but using them like a kind of spoken diary, reasoning that everyone is allowed to pick their own gods & they are just as likely to be real as the Christian one for example).

Then she dies.

And wakes up in Valinor meeting those of the Valar She has prayed to the most.

And they're like "well no idea what to do with you tbh guess you're one of ours now do you want cookies or sth?"

And she is like "bro are you for real this is brilliant I want to learn this and that and also..... "

And she hangs out with Yavannah and Oröme and Vana but mainly Aulë cus, yk, dwarves.

And he is like "sooo do you wanna join the halls of waiting?"

And she's like "idk lemme take a look" and there is Fili/Kili/Thorin whoever you prefer, hammering away at an anvil, and she's like NOOOOO fuck they already ded? Boooooh!"

And Mahal's like "yeah he's got trouble settling, feeling like he did not accomplish what he was supposed to" and she's like "well MAYBE that's because thats the TRUTH?!?!"

And the dwarves cannot really see her, she's more like a spectre with a distorted face merging with her background and a voice, but Fili/Kili/Thorin noticed her when she at one point breaks something in his forge while arguing with Mahal about how they deserve a second chance and while Fili/Kili/Thorin listen to how Mahal goes on about "we cannot disturb the music" she shouts "this music sucks anyway atm! Wouldn't hurt to change it! It's CLEAR some tunes are missing!"

And Mahal's like"wdym you HEAR the music?"

And she's like "well, yeah? And lemme tell you it can give ya a real headache at times."

Then she leaves saying that she's gonna bully Eru to give the Durins a second chance and Fili/Kili/Thorin, Who has been listening to that conversation, are like "ehem, Mahal, dear creator, am I high?" And he shortly explains about who the other voice was.

Well after some time OFC gets Eru to agree, and they take weeks to argue about the particularities and Option A is they end up with Fili/Kili/Thorin, Who has listened and therefor knows about what she's up to, to keep his memories of the quest while being sent back, but CANNOT disclose what he knows or how. Or something something bad will happen.

And OFC is like on the one hand "nice, hot dwarves and heroics" but then there are also orcs, the ring, no plumbing.... But whatever she'll make the best out of it.

So OFC argues that that's kinda harsh and convinces Dru to let her join them.

Option B and Eru's growing tired of her and is like "you know what? You can hear if the music starts to fuck up. You go down there as well! Be their personal Gandalf or whatever!" And the chosen Durin remembers os doesn't, or maybe just some vague stuff in dreams, I don't really care. But with this option there is nothing stopping them from sharing their knowledge.

She arrives quite literally at Gandalf's feet, explains stuff to him, and their first order of business is meeting up with Galadriel, Elrond and Glorfindel (she refuses to explain yet while she does NOT want Saruman involved, unsure if he ends up joining anyway no matter what she wants) and insists on freeing Thrain from Dol Goldur ASAP (using mostly book canon for this fic obv) so she has someone that can prove her story and give her some connections & shit.

OFC, with her fighting experience being drunk arm wrestling and nothing more, remains behind in Eryn Lasgalen while Legolas joins the aforementioned group in driving out Sauron.

Thrain is first treated in the Woodland Realm for the worst injuries, and during that time talks Some Shit through with Thranduil because, yk, they'll need him and his army later on.

Then they move to Rivendell, where Thrain heals and OFC gets SOME training (no, NOT Mary-Sue-ish, it takes YEARS to become properly adept at fighting, she has a few WEEKS, meaning she manages not to drop her sword any longer and shoot in the planned direction but THAT'S IT), then she has some kind of fight with Someone and leaves with some rangers for Ered Luin, Gandalf promising to deliver Thrain to his family as soon as he's fully healed.

OFC has been turned into a dwarf btw, INCLUDING the beard! In Ered Luin she finds a job at a tavern for starters and waits for either Thrain's arrival or Fili/Kili/Thorin to 'remember' (meaning his consciousness being sent back in time), because OFC herself arrived about a year before the start of the quest.

At one point, Fili/Kili/Thorin being regulars at her tavern, she recognises a change in their demeanor and introduces herself as *****(whatever name she had in Valinor) and they get to talking, F/K/T being SO glad to FINALLY having someone to talk about what happened.

They start hashing out the beginnings of a plan, but have to be careful for now so as to no one else picks up on their knowledge. OFC promises that *someone* (she totally is mysterious on purpose) will soon show up and help in that department.

One night, Gandalf arrives with Thrain, Thorin cries, Dìs faints, Fili & Kili get drinks ( and someone of course gets OFC) and joined by Balin & Dwalin the family celebrates and learns about Thrain & OFC's knowledge and they begin to form A Plan TM.

And then, there is plot I have no idea for.

#the hobbit #tolkien #middle earth #fili and kili #fili durin #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit fanfiction #fíli #kili durin #kíli #thrain #gandalf #galadriel #elrond #saruman #glorfindel #rivendell #dol guldur #ered luin

[corellianrose]

How Can I Explain? Ch. 2

Pairing: Eddie Munson | Reader Summary: Definitely not the response you expected from Eddie Word Count: 3,536 Warning: vomiting, underaged drinking A/N: Here is chapter 2. Enjoy our sweet, sweet Eddie boy. =)

Chapter 1

Little Broken Parts

The Monday after finally rolled around with a great fizzle. You hadn’t heard from Eddie since before the battle of the bands. After your performance, you were so convinced that Eddie’s disappearance was him coming to see you backstage to slap a big, wet, sloppy kiss on ya. But when he never arrived, your heart dropped like an anvil in a Wile E. Coyote cartoon. 

You slumped at your desk trying to pay attention to the homeroom teacher. You couldn’t. This weekend you just replayed Friday night over and over in your mind. You remembered how Eddie looked at you in admiration. How he moshed in the back of the auditorium with your little brother. Or at least you thought. For all you knew, it was all in your imagination. Because it’s not like you could see really see anything properly beyond the stage lights. 

You had locked yourself away, in your room, all weekend. Only coming out to grab food and to use the bathroom. You avoided phone calls from Robin, Ellie, and anyone else trying to congratulate you on your performance. Dustin frequently tried coming to your room to check in on you, only to ignore him as well. Knowing he was that one separation degree between you and Eddie made your chest hurt. You absolutely hated it. But you only had yourself to blame.

“Late. Again. Mr. Munson” Ms. O’Connell announced. Her voice jolted you from your daydream. You could hear some kids in the class giggle. This is where Eddie would usually speak back to the teacher and make a big scene when entering the class late. Not today though.

You lifted your head to see Eddie seamlessly bobbing and weaving himself through the desks. His wild hair hid his face. Your heart pounded as your hands began to feel clammy against your bouncing knee. With a loud screech, Eddie pulled up in the chair next to you. You couldn’t help looking at him. The way he crossed his arms when he sat down made him seem small.  It was as if he didn't want to be noticed. Your mind went to a million places at once. You barely even notice the piece of paper he was dropping on your desk. Eddie gave you a nod when you placed your hand on top of it. You unfolded the note to see his messy scribble that read Hellfire table. Lunch. Signed with a couple of wonky colored-in bats. ------------------------

It was an incredibly hot Memorial Day weekend in ‘85. The last three-day weekend before the end of school and the start of summer. Luckily, for you, it meant one thing, it was the time when the rich kids opened up their pools and doors at their fabulously large houses for the coming season. Their parents would leave them for the weekend to do what rich parents did best. Neglect their children and let them do what they wanted.

You sat in the backseat of Steve’s car as his co-worker and your best friend sat in the front. Both arguing about something from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. 

“You’re most definitely like Linda Barrett.” her arms flailing around, beer spilling from the can in her hand. “The older friend, mentoring, influencing the younger. I-E me, Dustin...” she pressed her hand against her chest.

“Watch the leather, will ya? And what?” Steve’s face pinched while gripped the steering wheel. “No, way Robin,” shaking his head in disagreement. 

“You are!” Robin laughed into her beer can.

“If I’m anybody, it is absolutely Damone,” he ran a hand through his mile-high hair. “He knows how to get all the ladies.”

“As if, Harrington.” you can barely respond. You felt your sides cramping.

“No, but seriously. Every. Single. Girl. That comes in…” Robin gave a raspberry with her tongue while giving a thumbs down. She shifted to her knees, practically dangling herself into the backseat.

“Hey!” Steve used one hand to grab the back of her jacket and pulled her down into the seat. You and Robin continued to laugh. “I have not, by the way,” shaking a finger in the air while looking back but also trying to focus on the road.

“I have all of his rejections tallied in the backroom.” Robin reached behind her, handing you a can of your own. 

“Shut the front door” Your face dropped. “Steve… Steve Harrington? Being rejected?” That would be a sight to see, especially when you know he’s forced to wear those shorty short shorts and that sailor hat. Opening the can with a click and a hiss, you take a swig.

“Aaand we’re here” Steve slammed on the brakes, in frustration, near the house, wanting to stop his humiliation. Your head bobbed forward, hitting the back of the driver's seat and spilling some of your beer. “Shit. Sorry, Henderson.” his eyes winced.

“No, no, it’s all good.” You swiped at the spilled beer on your shirt, only making the beer spread and soak into your shirt some more. “Eh, fuck it.” Shrugging your shoulders. You were probably going to end up having more drinks spilled on you later. No use in trying, you thought. 

“Alright, my friends. You know the deal.” His voice is subdued with a hint of irritation. Steve took in a deep breath. You and Robin gave a knowing look to each other on what was about to come. Mother-hen Steve. He turned around with his fingers pointed at both of you. “No mixing of drinks and not smoking. Stick to one kind of thing tonight. Got it?!” His voice was stern. “You hear me?”

You and Robin looked at each other with shit-eating-grins on your face. You wiggled your eyebrows as you looked back at Steve.

“We cross our hearts and hope to die.” You both spoke in tandem. As well as crossing your hearts and giving the boy scout salute. “Scout’s honor!”

“I’m fucking serious.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Remember what happened last time?” 

Oh, you remembered alright. You and Robin had drank so much that the two of you thought it would be brilliant to steal someone's bikes, leave the party, ride them to the convenience store at two am, and get slushies. Then calling Steve because you forgot where you placed the bikes and needed a ride home.

“Yea, we got it.” Robin rolled her eyes.

“Can we go in now?” Your body bounced with excitement as your hands were drumming on the top of the driver’s seat headrest.

“Alright then. Let’s go.” with one last chug, you exited the car.

Moments later, the three of you were squeezing together at the beer keg surrounded by the sweaty bodies of drunken teenagers. Girls danced provocatively, to the loud tune of Like a Virgin by Madonna, no doubt trying to impress their crushes that weren’t paying any attention to them. Boys flexed their non-existent muscles to each other, trying to “show” off the top masculinity they believed they possessed. It was a swirling jungle of hormones. 

The downstairs areas were littered with drunk teenagers sitting on the stairs and couches, empty beer cans and bottles abandoned on tables. All the cigarette and pot smoke made the air hazy. The wood flooring was sticky from the spilled alcohol. There were gaggles of teens hanging out on the back patio chanting along to someone holding Billy Hargrove as he did doing a keg stand.

About, two hours, you had lost your friends and your way around the house. You wander aimlessly in the halls with no destination in mind. Bumping into bodies that filled the hallway. By this time your drunken curiosity had already taken over. Every now and again, you would just open a door to peek in on a couple thumping awkwardly on a bed. Or opening another to see Jason Carver and some of his cronies snorting a line of the white nose candy.

By this time, Steve’s warning had flown out the window. Like paper lanterns in the sky on a windy day. You had chased a couple of beers with cups of heavily spiked punch and shots of tequila… Vodka? Or was it rum? You couldn’t remember by this point. You suddenly felt your stomach turn as the smell of spilled beer, aqua net, and sweaty body odor hit your nostrils. The hallways started spinning around you. The lights shone brightly, making your eyes water. You held yourself against the walls as you wobbled through the long corridors searching for a bathroom. The damned fruity punch (honestly could have been the shots. Who knows?) betrayed you and was quickly rising from your stomach, making you gag at its now acidic taste. Your hand rushed to your mouth as you tried to constrain what was to come. 

The next minute, you found yourself at the giving end of a porcelain bowl. Gripping the sides of the seat, you felt pieces of your soul leave your body. Spitting one last time, you reached for the handle and flushed the spewed contents. You leaned against the wall next to the toilet, you could finally take a full breath of air. Your head slumped forward because your neck no longer was able to hold its own weight. The world was so fuzzy and your body felt floaty. The walls vibrated from the music blasting throughout the house. Your head was pounding and your ears rang from the pressure building against your skull.

“Dude, get out,” a voice hissed. Barely lifting your head, only vaguely able to see, what could have been a small tussle, at the opening of the bathroom door. Behind your heavily lidded eyes, you saw a body being violently pushed away from the entrance and then the door being slammed shut. A shadowy mass flashed across the bathroom and kneeled down in front of you.

“Henderson?” You heard the familiar voice huff. “You ok? Talk to me, princess.” 

Their large hand nudged you softly at your shoulder, the other hand lifting your chin. Their calloused thumb caressed the edges of your jaw, wiping anything left over on your chin. Your eyes couldn't focus, but you could still make the shape of that unmistakable mane.

Eddie. His name floated in the black matter of your brain. Eddie. Cute Eddie. Eddieee. Your brain just repeating itself.

A sudden wafting stench of stale beer brought another wave of nausea. Bile came rising from your empty stomach, burning your throat once again. The contents dribbled out onto your shirt.

“Ooh, ooh! Let it out.” Eddie jerked your body toward the toilet. Gently gripping your hair away from your face as you hacked into the toilet. A cacophony of coughs fills the bowl. His other hand rubs your back. “It’s alright. I got ya, princess. We’ve all been here.” Eddie’s voice comforting you.

“Mm..fhank ooou” your voice croaked into the porcelain throne. Your hand gripped his thigh as the other wiped your mouth. Eddie’s body stiffened at your touch. “Eeeh…dd..ie Monshoon” the words slurred out your mouth in a sing-song manner.

“Alright, y/n, let’s get you settled.” he chuckled as he delicately backed you away from the toilet. He gently placed his hand on the back of your neck to support your head against the wall and wiped the tears from the edge of your eyes. Eddie rose to his feet to grab something by the sink. The sound of the tap being turned on and off filled the room. The feeling of his hand leaving you made you more empty than your stomach. It’s not like you and Eddie were incredibly close so having him against you was an odd sensation. However, it was a comforting one. One your drunken self decided that you really liked.

He bent back down to your level and kept you steady as he anxiously dabbed at your sweaty forehead. His brows drew together as he feared that he or his rings would scratch you. With every dab to your face, a small trail of heat was left behind from his touch. It was like your skin was trying to memorize the way he felt. There was an intimacy to his care in what seemed to be only for you. It was a side of Eddie you had never experienced before. You knew, beyond people's expectations, that he was a good person. But not like this. He had a softness in the way he looked at you and in the way he handled you, making sure he didn’t accidentally touch you inappropriately. Eddie was so gentle in his touch that it tickled. You couldn’t help but let out a groggy giggle. 

“What’s so funny, princess?” Eddie continued cleaning your face. Behind your heavy lids, you could see the worry that plastered his face. The lines on his face were accentuated by the furrowing of his brows. Your heart pounded against your chest.

“Oh… hic.. N..noothing” You playfully poked at his chest and let out another huge hiccup. Eddie pushed your hair back some more, wiping the damp towel across your brows. The air from the a/c hitting your heated skin sent goosebumps over your body. “Yyou’re... just .. hic… sopreeetty” You reached your hand up to his face and clumsily ran your thumb between his scrunched brows and tried to smooth it out.

“Ha, that’s a new one” Heat rose to his flushed face as he pressed his forehead against yours. His soft brown eyes focused on yours as he caressed his thumb along your jaw. “Don’t hate me, but I need to, ok?” 

“Mm…couldneverrrrrr” Your words stumbled out as if being accused of something.

The muscles in his arms flexed as he shed his jean vest first. Eddie then grabbed the hem of his shirt, slipping it over his head with ease. His auburn hair became more mussed. You could faintly make out the tattoos that scattered against his pale skin. Your drunk intrusive thoughts wanted you to reach out and touch them. The bats have always been your favorite. The next thing you knew, Eddie was pulling you towards him, shifting his weight to his knees. He fiddled with the top of your blouse, slowly unbuttoning it. You raised your arms for him to lift the blouse over your head. 

“Arms down, Henderson” he chuckled swallowing hard. The grazing of his cooled rings upon your skin gave you a shiver as he lowered your arms. Eddie chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. 

“But like wwwhy?” slumping into his body, your cheek pressing against his chest and your eyes fluttering, as you tried to keep them open. Sleep wanting to take over. He was so warm. And so comfy.

“You puked on your shirt, babes. And I’m going to need you to stay awake for me, ok?.” Eddie pushed your hair back away from your face.

“Mmmk…” Even in your drunken stupor, you could feel his hands trembling as they traveled to each button. After what felt like forever, Eddie was finally able to unbutton and slip your blouse off. With hitched breath, his body stilled when he glimpsed the bra you wore underneath. His eyes darted to the ceiling.

“Shit… fuck… I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled to himself repeatedly. His breath staggered and his heart pounded against his chest as it rioted for its escape.

After a while, he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe altogether and let out a huge sigh. He scratched at the back of his scalp and gave his hands a quick shake to expel the nerves that built up. Not wanting someone to walk in on them and think the wrong of the situation, Eddie finished replacing your shirt with his own as quickly as he could. He could not care any less what people said about him, but that was one situation he wouldn’t be able to handle if accused, especially if it was about you. 

Even in this inebriated state, he still thought you were the most rad girl he knew. However, this wasn’t how he wanted to see you in his clothes or you half-naked. Eddie’s mind wanted to wander, but he knew this was not the moment for it and that would have to wait for another day.  In another lifetime, when both are consenting bodies, this would have been a dream come true. With a brief rattle of his brain, he hurriedly put his jean vest back on. 

“Oo, mmm… ode..styyy” you giggled, lazily slapping your hand on his arm.

“Ok, sunshine. You’re gonna hate this‌ too,” he warned again. Eddie threw one of your arms around his shoulders for support, wrapping his arms under your armpit and hoisting you up. He then intertwined his fingers with the hand you held over his shoulder.

“No, back down,” you pouted. The sudden weight of your body losing grip in Eddie’s arms. Your head was spinning from vertigo, hitting your body. A lump formed in his throat. He hated seeing you this way. 

“Sorry, princess.” Eddie cleared his throat. He held you close and he held you firm. For a fleeting moment, you thought he may have placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I’m going to place my arm around your waist and you’re going to throw that pretty arm back over my shoulders again. Ok?”

With an unbalanced nod, you wrapped your arm back around him. He grabbed hold of your waist and braced you against him tightly. There was no way he was letting you slip again.

“Alright, let’s find Harrington, shall we?” Eddie struggled a bit to push you forward out of the bathroom and into the crowded hall.  ------------------------

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough and it didn’t. Your fingers tingled from the vibration of drumming your pencil against the desk. You reread the note over and over and over, trying to decipher anything from it. What could Eddie need to say? He sent an obvious message, on Friday, that he didn’t feel the same.

‘God, he hates you,’ you thought. You weren’t able to concentrate on anything but that note and Eddie. The edges of the small paper are already beginning to fray like your wracked mind.

A rush of energy consumes your body, making you shake your leg violently under the desk. You glanced over at the clock above the classroom door. 

‘Only 15 minutes till lunch.’ You squeezed your eyes shut imagining the bell ringing at that moment. Opening them up only to be disappointed that your Jedi mind trick didn’t work.

“Hey!” Robin reached over and placed her hand on your knee. “Calm down, you’re probably overthinking things,” she whispered.

“Oh, really?” the sarcastic tone coming out with a bit more venom than intended. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just… What if he hates me Robi...” tears pricked the edges of your eyes. 

Robin grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Please, with the way that boy looks at you, you’d think you were god herself coming for his salvation.”

“Shut up” You couldn’t help but laugh and accidentally snorted. It helped to rid some of the jitters‌. 

“Is there something funny about Uranus, Ms. Henderson?” the astronomy teacher asked.

“No, Mrs. Waller,” it took all of you not to burst at the timing of her question. 

The bell finally rang. It was probably the longest 15 minutes you’ve ever gone through, other than when your little brother and Steve went into the tunnels after Dart.

Every part of your anatomy vibrated with nervous energy. The books rattled in your arms as you practically power walked your way to your locker. Your hands trembled when trying to dial the numbers of your lock. Always managing to miss the last digit of the combination.

“Goddamnit!” You slammed your fist against the metal door. “Fucking open, you goddamned piece of shit!”

“Whoa! Now I see where Littleson gets his colorful vocabulary from” Eddie leaned onto the locker next to you with his arms crossed. The impact of his body on the locker made you jump out of your skin. There was a smugness to him, a little more than usual. But that’s what made you fall for him. It was the casualness of the enormous ego he had. Eddie wasn’t concerned by the likes of society accepting him. And that was the gravity that pulled you into his orbit.   

“E…eddie. Hi” barely able to get the words out.

“Look, about Friday.” Eddie looked down, playing with the rings on his fingers.

“Y..you didn’t call. You could have at least..” you began, taking in a deep breath. Unsure of how to properly convey the complexity of your feelings. “I g..get it. I com…completely read this wr…” 

“Hender…” halted only by the soft pressing of his hand against your cheek and the sweet whisper of his voice. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

“All the damn time.” His face was mere centimeters from your face. Noses practically touching. You could feel the eyes on the two of you as roaming students ran to their next class.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #my fanfic

[kayhi808]

More Than Our Scars - Part 16

You stroll down Beacon Main St & again, you are reminded of how Hallmark Christmas channel this place looks. It almost makes you gag at how saccharine sweet this place is with the lamp post & store fronts all decorated for Christmas with ribbon & lights. Another part of you wants to escape to this world that is so different than the reality you live in. The cold crispness of the air clears the fogginess in your head. The situation back there with Bill got way out of hand. You were angry, so you know you goaded him on. You don't like discussing your years with Fisk & you may admit now that you're overly sensitive about it.  But Bill's anger & strength is scary as hell. He didn't hurt you at all, but no way could you stay in that room with him and have a clear thought. You needed time to yourself. A little exploing & window shopping was what you needed until even that got to be overwhelming. After being shut-in for so long, maybe you need your freedom back in smaller doses.

You return to the hotel, but aren't ready to see Bill and you still have time before you have to get ready for dinner. You go to the lounge & snag a spot by the fireplace & order some tea. The crackling of the fire & the warmth of the tea after the chill of outside has got you 100% relaxed. You're finishing up your tea, when you feel a tug on your hair. You look back & Billy is smiling down at you.

"Billy," you sigh, "Is something the matter?"

He sits next to you, "No, I just thought I'd come find you." You know there are trackers in the Anvil phones, even Bill's, so you aren't surprised he located you. "I can't wait for dinner. I'm starving."

You smile & push over your uneaten cookies that came with your tea, Billy pops one in his mouth. He has such a sweet tooth. "Should i check to see if they can take us earlier?"

Shakes his head, "I'll wait." Notices your tea is done, "Ready to head up?" Stands and hold his hand out to you.

You enter your room and there are 2 large bouquets of flowers. Billy wraps his arms around you from behind, "I'm so sorry, Y/N."

"You didn't need to do this, Bill."

"I did. I love you...and I hurt you." Shakes his head. "The shop was closing when I called. These were all they had left. They're all kind of random. It was the best this town could do on short notice."

You laugh and turn in Bill's arms, "They are the prettiest I've ever had. Apology accepted." Bill captures your mouth in a kiss, burying his hands in your hair. You run your tongue against the seam of his lips needing him to open to you. He immediately deepens the kiss. The taste of him makes you moan. Your hands go to the button on his pants but he stops you. "What?"

Smiling, "We're not going to make it to our date if we start."

You palm his already hardened cock through his pants, "Yes, we will. If you shut up and stop arguing with me." He lets you unbutton his pants as you slip your tongue into his mouth and give him a squeeze that has him moaning. "Please, Billy. We can make it fast." You teasingly pump his cock while kissing a trail down his neck, ending it in a bite. He has you stripped out if your clothes in record time. He grabs you behind your knees, pulling your thighs to his waist, pinning you to the wall. You feel the head of his cock penetrating your slick folds. Your feet crossing behind his back, "Oh, God."

"Always so ready for me," Billy slowly pushes into you, stretching you to the point of painful pleasure. He fills you so completely. Your head drops to his shoulder. The feel of him pumping inside you with his hands grabbing and squeezing your ass has your breath coming in short pants. His mouth crushes yours in a kiss that demands obedience and submission.

He moves you both to the couch, managing impressively to stay inside you & not breaking contact. With a wicked gleam in his eyes he orders, "Ride me." You begin to move on him, slowly at first and he starts to rub your clit. The greater your need for him the harder you want to ride him. Your brain feels like it shuts down and the hunger and need for Bill over rules everything. You come down hard on his cock. "Good girl." You find yourself fucking him harder and faster. He feels you tighten around him and it makes him groan.

Billy puts more pressure on your clit and you come with a scream. Bill grips your hips and starts fucking up into you. He adjust your body to ensure his cock is brushing up against your gspot. He quickly has you coming again with him. You feel him shooting hot and thick inside you. He breathlessly whispers, "You're amazing." Billy holds you close, dropping kisses on your cheeks & brow.

You lay limp on top of him. No energy or desire to move. Playing with the buttons on his shirt. "You didn't even get undressed."

"We still got date night to go to." Your head pops up from his chest and he laughs at the look on your face. "I take it, date night is cancelled."

"Post-poned. Tomorrow night. I couldn't move to save my life right now." Billy tilts your head so he can kiss you. "I love you, Bill."

"I know, sweetheart." He shifts you to the side, smacks your bottom and goes to the bathroom. You look around the room for your clothes and see them by the door, but you seriously can't move. You don't think you can walk across the room to get your clothes. Your body feels like jelly. What is he doing to you? You feel your cheeks flame with a blush and you bury your face into the couch cushion.

Bill returns and laughs at the naked curled up heap you are on the couch. "Y/N!" You don't move but you start to giggle.

Billy scoops you up in his arms and takes you to the tub he's started for you. He sets you down and you step into the bubbles. The hotel tub is big enough for you both as Bill starts stripping away his clothes to join you. "I told you we'd miss date night if we started."

@idaofinfinity @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @e-dubbc11

Hope you enjoyed some Christmas Billy sex. 😍🔥

#billy russo #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo smut

[sunriseverse]

i don’t follow anyone else into mdzs and i’m having thoughts so they’re going into your inbox (sorry… *rattles my cage*) but you know that quote that’s like “when is a monster not a monster? oh, when you love it” well i’m thinking about it specifically in the context of yi city. that’s all bye bye (*cage rattles louder*) (wait i have more to say because in the short time xue yang was actually shown friendship or love or care or however you wish to think of it he just decided to stop being evil. he just got bored. and then it crumbled in an instant and he started being evil again and *i’m shot by a sniper*)

okay. first of all. how dare you come to me, in this the time of my convalescence, and whack me over the head with the iron anvil that is this quote in this context. i’ll literally never be the same again and it’s your fault (<3333)

secondly. i am so honoured you came to me with this!!!!!! i am not generally someone people turn to with their concepts and thoughts (as much as i wish it was different…………alas!), so thank you! i will attempt to answer this with the same care and love i can see even in your short ask. this is going under the cut because uh. it got long. oops!

the thing about xy is, to me, he reads very much as the other side of the coin that jgy is on, to drag my other mdzs beloved into this. in both cases, they’re seen as the lowest of the low—jgy’s mother is a sex worker, and xy is an orphan with no social status. both of them are demonstrated to be talented and have a drive to learn—jgy is a fucking excellent…….whatever his position with the nie is (i can never remember what it’s called, in cql or in the novel, but it doesn’t matter much; he’s undeniably good at his job), spy, sect leader, and yes, xiandu/chief cultivator. xy, on the other hand, is undeniably fucking brilliant—he manages to drag himself into cultivation basically without any help for most of his formative years, and then makes sense of wwx’s basically incoherent ramblings and more coherent, but still incredibly hard to parse to anyone who doesn’t 1. know what they’re looking at or 2. isn’t able to make incredible leaps of logic to connect his work—because wwx wasn’t just a genius, he was a literal, actual pioneer; no one had done what he was doing before—notes. i think this is part of why jgy keeps xy around for so long, even if he doesn’t enjoy his methods—he sees a bit of himself in him. (also, xy is dead useful—dead messy and slightly sadistic, too, but hey, we all have our faults, some of us are just a bit more bloody about them.)

the thing is, though—xy demonstratively did not have any sort of love shown to him at all, possibly ever, in any way, up until yi city. jgy, whose life sucks in so many other ways, had two saving graces of connection: his mother, and lxc. xy had………….no one. zilch. nada. sifir. ling. and so forth. you could argue this is because he makes himself unlovable, but if you think about that for more than three seconds, it’s wildly clear that it’s a (very shitty, self-destructive) coping mechanism—if they’re going to call me trash, if they’re going to call me insane, if they’re going to call me a monster, a nightmare—fine, i will be. i’ll take control of the narrative and show them just how bad i can be.

and then…………yi city. a man who doesn’t even know who he is finds him bloodied and weak, and doesn’t stab him in the back. he carries him to his home, and he cares for him. and xy, i would imagine, is waiting, this entire time, for the other show to drop. surely, he’s going to recognise him. surely he’s going to turn around and say, ah hah, i’ve got you now, you monster! i’m going to take you to the authorities and have them finish you off, because you are a bad person and i am a good person and that’s how this goes. and the entire time, he’s telling himself—as soon as it does, i’m going to kill him. as soon as it does, i’m going to take my revenge. but it………..doesn’t. xxc keeps weaving baskets with him. and going to the market with him. and living his life with him. turning his back and not assuming xy is going to stick jiangzai in it. (and probably telling him terrible jokes that barely count as jokes that xy laughs at far more loudly than he really needs to, because half the comedy is watching the gentle breeze be so goddamn bad at something.)

and xy, for the first time in his life, realises: oh shit. maybe i do want this. maybe i do want peace, of a mundane variety. maybe making myself sharp and harsh and hating and deadly wasn’t making me happy. maybe…………..being happy is letting your guard down around someone, and they don’t take advantage of it. (he would never think the word love, i think, even with a sword at his throat—“trust” is as close as he is ever going to allow himself to come to conceptualising it, less a fuckton of emotional development and growth, but i digress.) and like………..yes, it’s functionally a castle built on a bed of sand. at the start, xy deceives xxc into doing a fuckton of objectively bad shit. he’s the reason sl lost his eyes, and the reason xxc gave his up, and the reason the gentle breeze and the winter frost are no longer spoken of in the same sentence. but also—not to engage in therapy speak here, but this is something where you kind of have to employ dialectical thought: he can have done horrible fucked up things, and still want love. he can have hurt xxc, and be loved by him. he can have done bad, and have stopped doing so. he can be bad, and still be a person. (that last one, i think, is something xxc would fully agree with—were he to have found out xy was, well, xy, but living with him and not causing any trouble (unless you count threatening the farmers at the market who try and cheat a blind man out of his meagre savings, but i think a qing and i are both in agreement that this isn’t really a crime), i think he would not have killed him. i don’t even think he would have turned him in to the authorities. i think xy would be in for, possibly, in the future, a very long conversation he wouldn’t particularly enjoy due to its necessitating of laying things bare, but he would survive it. i think, at the end of things, xxc’s guiding philosophy in life is not, for all his idealism, that things are immutable—i think he would be pleased that xy has changed his ways, and decided to do good, rather than continuing to harm others.)

and then he fucks up. or sl fucks up. or they both fuck up. whose fault it is doesn’t matter; the end result is the same: xy’s temporary peace, his safe haven, crumbles. and he turns back to who he was before, because at least that’s easy. at least that’s certain. peace, happiness, trust—that’s all dust on the wind. you can’t put stock in that, his experience has clearly taught him that, once again, more harshly than anything else. you can love a monster, but if you leave it—it’s going to be a monster again, because that’s easier than trying to crawl on its hands and knees through the mud and pay penance by itself.

#this got very long i am SO sorry i am going to get to your other asks too i swear #anyway. thank you. #ask #c.txt #yi city anon

[digitalfairyyy]

Never Letting You Out Of My Sight

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Summary: Fighting for the butcher army has its pros and its cons

Warnings: angst with some fluff sprinkled in, mentions of blood, hinted past abuse, choking, flinching

Pronouns: genderneutral

Note: I might write another part to this but who knows

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Art by Jessica Oyhenart

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The stars twinkled in the sky while you stood at your chest, organizing your supplies, pictures of ham and bacon hanging on the walls reminding you of the task at hand; to kill Technoblade. To get revenge for what happened to L'Manberg. You were no more than a nurse for the butcher army, and sometimes a guard, that's currently what you were doing. You had been given the task to watch Phil while the others go find Techno.

Glancing over at where Phil was sitting on house arrest, you picked up a shiny red apple from the chest and made your way to Phil's house. With a quiet knock, Phil was at the door staring at you. You held out the apple to him while he stared at you as if you were insane.

"Take this as my apology to what the Butcher army did to your home, I know an apple isn't a great payment for all the damages but you seemed hungry so," Phil's wings folded back behind him as he reached for the apple in your palm. He thanked you for the apple as he took a bite out of it, "I've never seen Quackity like this, I knew he wanted Techno to pay but not like this."

Philza's eyes narrowed looking at you, "so why are you helping him? Quackity doesn't deserve anything, he's a psychopath. You can find a better friend than that, mate."

You stiffled a laugh with your sleeve making Philza cock his eyebrow at you, "oh sorry, just reminds me of something that an old... friend of mine used to say."

"You stopped yourself before you said friend, what's up with that mate?" Phil questioned, finishing the apple and tossing it behind him into the garbage.

"Just hurts to remember that's all," you didn't want to admit the truth, besides it had been so long, he probably forgot all about you at this point, "it's been so long, you think he even remembers me? It's been such a long time."

"Hey cheer up mate," Philza wrapped one of his wings around you, "here I'll make a deal with you. Help me out of here and save Techno and I'll help reunite you and this friend of yours."

Your eyes widened, nervousness hiding behind your eyes as you felt compelled to agree. Phil smiled at you looking around his chest before pulling out a creeper and a skeleton head, tossing you the skeleton head.

"How are you supposed to leave with those?" Philza looked down at his feet where you were pointing. The iron boots keeping him on house arrest keeping him in place.

"Thinking still about that," Philza looked back at the you, his eyes showing concentration but also worry, "at least Techno knows, I got one of my crows to send him a letter. It's gonna take them a while to get all the way to him, he has time to prepare himself." Phil smiled to himself staring at the creeper head, "we're gonna fucking tail them. I know where Techno lives, with or without a compass, I know."

"But the boots."

Phil let out a breath looking at you, "not like there's a tracker in them, they just can't know I left the house. We can hide in plain sight."

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It was about a few hours long of a journey making your way through the snow, the skeleton head proving to be quite the annoyance as you and Phil hid in the bushes staring at Techno's house where the group had formed. They seemed to be arguing with a ghost who kept switching from going inside and outside.

Than you saw him, Techno standing on his porch staring down at the butcher army and the ghost. He looked the same as he always did, a few new scars but nothing too noticeable. He still wore the robe you had made him, it brought a smile to your face seeing how regal he still looked wearing it.

The ghost seemed to notice you and Phil, waving over at you two while Phil tried to silently signal him to stop. Phil tapping on your shoulder to move to a less visible spot while you two easedropped on the conversation. The ghost continued to float over to you two, waving at Phil and giving him a piece of stake while Phil stayed silent.

Techno started to sprint in your direction as Quackity caught him explaining that he had to come with them.

"Techno isn't allowed in L'Manberg?" the ghost said with a quiet cry, apart of you felt bad for him, he seemed so confused and not able to understand the severity of the scene right now.

It was silent.

"I choose blood!" Techno yelled as he smashed potions onto the ground, making it difficult for you and Phil to see the action. All you could hear was Tubbo, Fundy, and Ranboo's screams while Quackity was trying to get a hold of the situation.

"Big Q do something! Big Q!!" Tubbo yelled, blocking Techno's axe with his shield being an inch from his face, "Big Q!"

"Stop!" Quackity yelled, he was riding what seemed to be a horse. You remembered that horse, it was the same horse that Techno used to go riding with you on. Carl you remembered his name was, the most important thing in the world to Techno was that horse.

Techno looked away from where he had Tubbo trapped, his eyes widening seeing Quackity holding Carl, "get away from that horse Quackity!"

"Drop everything, or I will kill this horse right in front of you," Quackity's eyes narrowed. Techno seemed conflicted before he dropped his axe, his armor, his robe, and his crown, allowing Fundy and Tubbo to restrain him.

Phil grabbed your arm pulling you with him, "come on, we have to get there before they do."

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Sitting in the seats like you were told to do when they returned, you waited for Technoblade's execution. The cage open for Techno's place and the anvil waiting to be dropped. Carl was tied to the fence by the dock while you watched Techno be shoved into the cage.

"When I hit that lever over there it is gonna drop and that anvil up there will kill you," Quackity explained while Techno looked up at the anvil hanging above him.

Tubbo made his way over to his stand where he would read Techno's rights before the execution. Tubbo fixed the mic to his height before speaking, "Technoblade has robbed our country of everything that made it special, everything that defined what it was. He stepped in when he shouldn't have. He created chaos, he ruined the government-"

Suddenly an enderpearl was thrown and Punz had appeared smashing potions on the ground before attacking. He dropped tnt on the ground that was quickly picked up before he started to attack the butcher army. You ran out of your spot towards Phil's house which had been boarded up once more.

"Technoblade," the ghost smiled looking up at the piglin hybrid, a blue sheep following him, "I've named him Friend."

"Hello Ghostbur," Techno said in his usual monotone voice, grabbing onto the bars of the cage, "that's fantastic Ghostbur, I'm about to die Ghostbur."

"Fuck it fuck it I'm pulling this lever," Quackity ran over to where the lever was, Techno understandable being confused as he tried to escape the cage. Phil pulling out his bow to try to stop them before Quackity pulled the lever.

It was like slow motion, your back was pressed against Phil's boarded up door as you watched the anvil fall. Techno staring up at the anvil that was coming closer and closer to crushing him. Ghostbur looking confused of the situation, not able to understand. Phil looking away not able to bare staring at his friend die.

But than he didn't...

Instead he jumped ontop of the anvil and out of the cage. Running over to Carl and jumping onto the horse's back riding away.

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You weren't sure what you were supposed to say. You were sitting in front of Quackity stitching up his face while he sat in silence, occasionally tensing up in pain from the needle piercing his skin. You sort of blamed yourself for what happened to Quackity even though it was Techno's pickaxe that did this.

It was a deep cut too, you knew his right eye would never work again from how it had glossed over into a pure white and Quackity had mentioned his vision going blurry in that eye. Once you were done stitching it up, Quackity looked up at you, "so when did you plan to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" you questioned standing up and putting your stuff away, sorting your potions. You really hoped Quackity wasn't hinting at what you think he was.

"About you and Technoblade..." Quackity's eyes narrowed at you when you froze, your fingers tapping on your table, "how you two used to be old buddy buddies? How you helped Philza escape? How you're only helping me because you think I'm gonna hurt Tubbo or Ranboo? Maybe how you fucking love Techno?!" By this point, Quackity had stood up and was right in front of you, you gulping seeing the anger showing in Quackity's eye. It reminded you how Schlatt used to treat you when you worked for him.

"Quackity I--"

"I bet you're so fucking happy to see me like this huh?" Quackity's hand flew its way to your throat, crushing your throat under his hand, "in fucking pain, only having one good eye left, huh? Was this all some kind of joke to you? Did I ever truly mean anything to you because I'm not so sure anymore. Maybe my friendship meant nothing? Bet your fucking terrified now."

You gasped for air, trying to push on Quackity's chest to get him to let go feeling yourself lose consiousness.

"I wish Schlatt fucking killed you in the van," Quackity let go of you pushing you down onto the ground, "get out of L'Manberg, I don't want to see your face in this town again or I will not hesitate to execute you and I won't fail this time at it either."

"But my stuff," you said once you regained air in your lungs.

"Not your stuff anymore, you're on your fucking own now," Quackity opened the door, "you have 10 minutes, I better not see your face again."

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With nowhere else to go, you decided to say hello to an old friend. You were absolutely freezing out here with absolutely nothing to defend yourself. You could only hope that he would want to see you or even remember you and all the times you two shared in the past. You felt like you were gonna turn into ice if you were outside for any longer as you knocked on the door.

But the door never opened and eventually you fell asleep, curled up on the porch by the door. You were slipping in and out of consiousness, you'd end up asleep for a few minutes than out again, falling asleep seemed to be the only thing that kept you warm.

Waking back up, you felt your vision be blurry and your head starting to spin. You couldn't even feel your limbs trying to hold onto your shaking cold body as you slowly felt yourself lose consiousness again.

In your frozen state, you felt a pair of arms pick you up, "it's okay I got you, come on come on, you're gonna be okay." You felt something heavy be wrapped around you and heard the door be opened, "come on, we need a fire. Y/N will freeze to death."

"We need to get them warm," you heard the ghost you had seen before say with the sound of a sheep being heard in response.

You felt yourself be dropped gently onto the ground in front of a fireplace, feeling the soft feel of wool curling up behind you along with the heavy robe.

"Will they be okay Techno?" Ghostbur asked the piglin hybrid who was staring down at you. Why had you come all the way out here? Especially at night and during a storm? That was practically a death sentence. He had no clue what would have happened and what he would have done if he was just a few minutes late, "Techno?"

"Go to bed Ghostbur," Techno said kneeling down onto the floor where you were in front of the fireplace curled up in Friend's wool.

"But ghosts don't sleep."

"Just give me some time alone, go play with Steve," Techno was trying to make up any kind of excuse he could to get a few minutes alone to himself to think. Ghostbur understood that he was not wanted right now and sadly nodded moving to outside where Steve was to give the bear company.

Techno looked down at you, his hand hesitantly going to your hair brushing the few strands you had in front of your face out of the way. He had missed you but knew that the separation was for your own safety but now he wasn't so sure being separated was the safest choice now.

Techno's eyes narrowed in curiosity looking at your neck, it'd almost seemed to be bruised as his eyebrows furrowed. He didn't want to assume anything so he decided to ask when you would wake as he smiles to himself, "I am not gonna lose you again."

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You woke up warm and feeling safe, a feeling you hadn't felt for a very long time. Your eyes fluttered open to seeing a blue sheep curled up against you and a polar bear on your other side, his head resting in your lap. The fire place in front of you was still burning brightly as you heard the sound of humming coming from the other room. You pulled yourself off the ground waking up the blue sheep who let out a baa following you.

You entered the other room where the humming was coming from and you were tackled in a hug by the ghost you had met. He smiled clinging to you.

"You're alive! You're alive! I don't even know you but you're alive!" Ghostbur laughed clinging onto you. You laughed hugging the ghost back. You looked over at the corner of the room over Ghostbur's shoulder noticing Techno sitting at a table, a book in his hands and glasses on the bridge of his nose, his tusks peaking out of his lips like usual.

"Morning," Techno said with his usual monotone voice marking the page in his book and take his glasses off. Ghostbur let go of you as you made your way over to the table sitting down, Techno's robe still over your shoulders, "you look very nice in my robe I must say."

"Thank you for saving my life," Techno nodded sliding a plate of potatoes over to you as you stiffled a laugh, "you still obsessed with potatoes huh?"

"Eh," Techno shrugged as Ghostbur skipped outside with Friend following him. Techno watched the door close, finally knowing Ghostbur was out of earshot he looked at you in all seriousness, "who put their hands on you."

You were caught off guard by Techno's question, looking at him, his eyes scanning your entire face trying to read your emotions, "no one, I just had a run in with some mobs, that's all."

"Oh so you're trying to tell me that a creeper grabbed you by the throat as such a rough grip to bruise? Come on Y/N, I've known you for how long and you think I'll fall for something like that?" it was obvious you couldn't just lie to Techno but at the same time, lying would cause less blood shed, "besides you wouldn't just run out of L'Manberg like that and almost have yourself killed if everything was fine, just spit it out."

"Why do you want to know so badly?"

"Because the person that I love just comes to my house out of nowhere after completely disappearing for a long time and almost dies at my door step and then I find bruises on their neck like someone had strangled them?!" Techno yelled catching you off guard. You had never seen Techno so mad at you before, sure you two had arguments in the past but this was different, he never raised his voice at you before.

Techno raised his hand to run his hand through his hair to calm himself down, however when you flinched seeing his hand go up, he froze. His hands dropping to his sides as he got up from the table and grabbed his axe before walking out the door.

You looked down at your hands, you didn't mean to flinch, it just happened, you didn't mean to scare him like that. You sighed dropping your face into your hands as you silently cried into your hands feeling Steve lay his head on your lap looking up at you.

"I gotta go boy," you scratched behind Steve's ear as you got off the chair, Steve following behind you as you went to the door, "no you have to stay here boy." Opening the door, you closed it before Steve could come out as you watched the bear jump up and look through the window of the door as you walked out.

The snow crunched under your feet as you started to walk away. You were meant to be alone. You thought coming back to Techno would make things better but all you did was make him think that you were scared of him.

You kept walking till you noticed less and less snow and noticed you were in a flower field. Your tears started to drop more as you looked at the flowers, it reminded you of the times you and Techno would spend in the flower fields together. You would sit in the grass picking flowers for different decor and dyes while Techno would tell stories of Greek mythology or his war stories. It didn't matter how many times you heard the same story, you loved to hear them everytime.

"Thought you might have wandered off to here," you vision snapped turning around to see Techno. He was just wearing his white button up, the first three button undone, his hair in a new braid. You remembered that you were the one that always braided his hair until you taught him to.

"Tech, I'm sorry-"

"Hush," Techno held up his hand moving over to you, his body towering over yours, "just tell me, please."

You looked down at the ground as Techno sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you into his chest. You clung to his body as you felt the tears starting to well in your eyes, "it was Quackity. He found out about us and then he attacked me after I helped him treat that scar you gave him."

You felt Techno tense, "I wish I could kill that duck. I can't believe he'd put his hands on you like that."

"It's not the first time," you sighed out, hiding your face in Techno's chest. Techno asked you what you meant as you bit your lip, "during the L'Manberg war for independence, Dream had grabbed me when the van exploded and held me hostage for a few weeks until I got saved after L'Manberg became independant. Than I ended up working for Schlatt for a while when Wilbur and Tommy were exiled, I guess they never told you. Schlatt treated both me, Niki, and Quackity awfully, he taxed Niki till she was bankrupt, he would yell and shame Quackity, and then he'd grab me. It was worse when he found out I had opened the gates for Wilbur to get in Manberg, he almost killed me in a drunk rage inside the van. Than well, you know Quackity."

Techno sighed, "Y/N look at me."

You shook your head hiding your face in Techno's chest until he grabbed your chin making you look up at him.

"I'm never letting you out of my sight again."

"I love you," you held onto Techno's hand as he smiled pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I love you too."

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Thank you for reading. Please show your support since it really helps me out :)

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Taglist:

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#technoblade x reader #digital fairyyy writing #mcyt x reader #dreamsmp x reader #technoblade #techno x reader #mcyt #dreamsmp #quackity x reader #ghostbur x reader #butcher army #hog hunt

[softboywriting]

Meet The Parents | Billy Russo

Summary: You introduce Billy to your parents and it doesn’t go as well as you hope. [Billy Russo x F!Reader] [Assistant!Reader Trope] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] [Problematic Parents/Divorced] [Parents Fighting] [Language] [Flirting] [Flashback/Nightmare]

 Word Count: 3.8k 

 A/N: This is a follow up to my first fic Little Moments but can be read separately as a stand alone story. I may be doing several in a series with these two.

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The office is quiet, and has been for the whole day. Billy has been out at a client meeting since you got in. Anvil is becoming quite popular in the private military market, having taken on three new contracts in the last two weeks. You're proud of Billy, he works hard to win over his clients and offer top of the line service. As the primary contact for all contracts and placements, you've gotten busy too. More business means more expenses, and more employees to keep track of. You don't mind, it keeps you active and engaged. There is nothing more you hate than just sitting around staring at the wall or watching cat videos for the billionth time.

"Hey sweetheart."

You glance up from your work and see Billy closing the office door behind him. He's dressed up, black and grey patterned silk shirt, expensive black suit, the tailored jacket over his arm. He looks positively delicious if you do say so. Those shirts are the best thing you ever convinced him to wear.

"Hey yourself. How'd the meeting go?"

"Shitty." He sneers and tosses his jacket on his office chair. He begins unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt to roll them up to his elbows. "The guy brought his daughter."

"Okay? What does she have to do with anything?"

Billy raises his eyebrows in an 'are you shitting me' expression. "His daughter is a model. Not naturally talented mind you, paid for by her daddy. Clearly he thought havin' her there would sway me into acceptin' the number he offered for the contract you wrote up. Like he's doing me a favor."

You stand and walk around the desk, eyes going up and down his chest. "You didn't do anything did you?"

"What kinda man do you think I am?" Billy walks you back against your desk, pinning you in with his hands on the top behind you. He drops his head to yours and stares at you with those dark endless eyes. "You think I'd fuck around?"

"I know you won't, you're too gone for me." You run your hands up his back and he arches against you. "Did she try?"

"She tried. Even sat on my lap."

"In front of her dad?"

"Mmmhmm." Billy drops his face to your neck and mouths at your skin. "I don't mind a little show and tell but even I got boundaries. Parental peepshows are off limits."

You laugh softly and he brings one hand against your lower back up to pull you against him. "Take it easy. You know the rules. No relationship stuff while I'm on the clock."

He groans, pulling his head back to look at you. "I need to touch you though. I don't want her lingering on me."

"I know." You step out of his hold and he lets his hand drag across your back as you escape his grasp. "Just another hour okay? I've gotta wrap a few things up."

Billy pulls his tie loose and unbuttons the top of his shirt. "Why did I ever make these rules?" He sinks down in his chair and spreads his legs, lolling his head against the back. He really is such a tempting little tease. How could you resist a man like that? Truth be told it's hard.

You take a seat behind your desk and focus your eyes on the invoices on screen. "You made them because you want Anvil to remain professional and not a playground."

"Bullshit."

"Your bullshit."

Billy bites his lip and gives you that look. The one that says he isn't to be messed with, that he's gonna get what he wants no matter what. And oh it's so tempting to get up and go sit on his lap in that chair. It's always been a fantasy of yours. One you haven't gotten to full fill due to his rules. He's really only cockblocking himself.

"C'mere."

"No, Billy."

"C'mon, be bad. Break my rules."

"No! You're such a jerk!" You laugh and he chuckles playfully. "We have dinner with my parents after this anyway. I'm not breaking your rules and getting all messy before we go see my parents. You hear? Parents."

"Always such a good girl."

"You like it."

"Damn right I do." He pushes up out of his chair and crosses the office to cradle your head and press a chaste kiss to your temple. "I'm gonna go home and get ready. Anything you want me to lay out for you? I think you've got a few things at the apartment."  

"The blue dress. I picked it up from the cleaners last week with a few suits. It should be in your closet."

"The one I bought you a while back for the client dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that a little revealing for a parents dinner?"

You raise your eyebrows and he narrows his eyes.

"You're a monster." He presses his lips to your ear. "If you keep teasing me I'll have to put you in your place."

"I guess I'm a glutton for punishment."

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what you're askin' for." Billy kisses your cheek and steps away. "Playin' with fire will get you burned."

You smile innocently. "See you later."

"You're terrible." He goes to the door and stops, looking back once more. "But I love you."

"Love you too Billy."

"Ugh," he groans, slapping a hand over his chest. "Say it again."

"Love you?" You giggle and he acts even more dramatic, pretending to swoon against the door. "What are you doing?"

"Being you."

"Wh- you son of a bitch! Get out!" You throw your squishy stress ball at him and he cackles as he runs from the office. What a child.

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"Oh, this is your boyfriend?" Your mother asks in actual surprise. As if you weren't meant to have a man that looks like Billy Russo. Truth be told you had never dated anyone half as attractive, not to you anyways. "He's so...well dressed."

Billy takes your mom's hand and kisses it politely. "We're all well dressed here ma'am. You look lovely too."

"Thank you." She flushes and giggles.

Billy gives a warm smile and tugs you closer. His hand on your back is radiating heat, its comforting. He knows you're tense. This dinner will be a strain on your nerves and he had been warned how difficult your parents can be.

"Your father should be here soon. I told him not to be late." Mom says huffily, eyeing the doors to the restaurant. You've met up with her outside and you're currently waiting for your dad to arrive. Your parents have been split for ten years and it's been hard, but not as hard as it would have been if they had divorced when you were still a young child. Well, you like to think that anyways. They waited, held on to their shit until you were graduated and old enough to understand that some people don't remain in love.

Billy leans in and presses his lips to your ear. "Are your parents going to fight? This place is very nice, I don't want to cause a scene."

"It'll be fine. They can hold it together for a few hours. I hope. Just don't mention their personal lives. It's a sore spot for mom. Dad isn't single anymore."

"Gotcha."

"Sorry I'm late." You turn and see your dad walking towards you. "Some asshole parked his Rolls Royce just on the line and I hardly squeezed into the only spot open beside it."

Mom scoffs and rolls her eyes. She bites her tongue but you know what she would say. Some comments about his truck being too damn big and a gas guzzler.

Dad puts his hand out for Billy. "You must be the lucky guy!"

Billy takes it and smiles a beautiful, toothy, shit eating grin. "Billy Russo, the asshole who parked his Rolls Royce a bit close to the line."

The way Dad's face turns pale and then red with embarrassment makes the whole evening worthwhile up until then. "That's yours?"

"One hundred percent. Bought and paid for."

"That's a beautiful piece of machinery. Expensive."

Billy leans his head on yours. "I only go for the best."

"Well you know I-"

"Oh shut up already, let's go inside." Mom says and grabs your dad's arm. "Always babbling on about shit when we've got things to do."

"Y'know what-" the conversation fades as your parents head into the restaurant. You're glad. It is bound to be petty anyways. Always was with them. Bickering children they should be called.

"Relax." Billy says in your ear, hand traveling up and down your side. "I can win over your parents for one night."

"You could charm anyone into anything and I've seen as much. You're a silver tongued sn-"

Billy catches your jaw in a light hold and presses a kiss to your lips. Your hand slides up into his hair and he grins into the kiss. "Easy now. We've not even gotten seated yet."

"Your fault."

"Usually is."

____________________

You stare at yourself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Dinner wasn't going so great and you had barely made it through an appetizer and drinks.

Your parents couldn't stop arguing, Billy was trying his best to charm them but apparently they're uncharmable, and you were left to play referee for your parents against each other or them against you and Billy.

It is a whole mess and you want to just leave, just walk out say fuck everything and go to Billy's apartment and go to bed. You haven't even had a chance to tease Billy like you were planning, hell, you've barely gotten a word in that wasn't defending him or fielding your parents insults they continuously hurdled over the table at one another.

The door rattles on your left and you clear your throat. "Occupied!" You shout and it stops.

It's a single use bathroom, not a multi-stall type set up. So the person outside would just have to wait until you were done having your crisis. Maybe not so fair to them but you'll be damned if you won't let yourself have a moment.

The handle turns and you back into the sink as the door opens. To your surprise it is Billy, not some worker with a key. "What the-"

"Your parents are insufferable. How the hell did you grow up with them? I mean I was in a group home and a few of the adults weren't great but holy shit they weren't my parents."

"I'm sorry."

Billy closes the door and shakes his head, taking your hands in his. "Don't be sorry for their actions. Never apologize for anyone but yourself."

"I knew this would happen. I just thought that maybe...I don't know...maybe they'd be different. Maybe they'd be proud of me, of you, so they would get along for two fucking hours."

"Sweetheart, you're nearly thirty, you're still seeking your parents approval?"

You laugh joylessly and bite the inside of your cheek. "You don't understand. You can't understand."

Billy brings your forehead to his lips and he rubs your back. He's always so affectionate with you, careful to hold and to love you like a man who never received it himself so he wants to make sure those he loves receives it tenfold.

"I understand seeking approval, but there is nothing you need approval for. You're an adult with a good job, a place to stay, an outstanding boyfriend with his own company. I'd say you're doin' alright honey."

You let out an actual little laugh, and he does too, bumping his nose against yours. "You're so full of yourself."

"You like that?" He bumps again, eyes on yours. "I said it to get you to giggle."

"You know it's a little true."

His lips meet yours in a warm tender kiss. "Confidence is sexy."

"It is."

"I could tell your parents there's a work emergency." He slides his hands over your ass and pulls you flush against him. "A real pain in the ass employee is causin' trouble."

You smile into his lips and he smiles back. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

He chuckles softly and cradles your head to his chest. "You can't choose how your family acts. Remember that. It's up to you to decide how you act, and if you want to deal with them."

"I know."

"Do you?" He runs a hand over your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands briefly.. "I know it's different for you, I can distance myself easier since I didn't grow up with proper parents. Maybe I'm cold, or indifferent but-"

"Stop." You dig your fingers into his side and he falls quiet. "Don't compare your childhood to mine. It's not fair. I don't want you to begin resenting me because-"

Billy gives you a look that is all warning and it silences you instantly. "I would never resent you for having parents and growing up like a normal kid should. I ended up in a shit situation and that is no one's fault but my own mother's. She is the only person I will ever resent." He softens, leaning in and kissing your nose. "Do you wanna ditch or go try to make something of this dinner?"

You swallow harshly and look at the door. Ditching would be easy, but the repercussions would be insufferable. Your mom would never stop calling about it, your dad would hold it over your head forever. It would be more of a disaster to leave than it would be to stay. No matter how valid the reason.

"We'll stay. I can try and redirect the conversation."

"That's my girl." He pats your cheek. "Proud of you."

"T-thanks."

Billy takes your hand and interlocks your fingers with his. "I'll take care of it. I can get them to shut up."

"If you can get a word in."

"I have my ways. Don't worry."

You cut him a look as you exit the bathroom and head for the table. "What are you-"

"Don't worry." He presses against your ear and guides you down to sit at the table.

Your parents are still bickering.

"Hey!" Billy says firmly with his hands on the table, not a yell, but enough to get his point across and the attention of your parents but not many others.

"Yes?" Mom asks surprisingly quietly.

Billy smiles and it's all venom, beautiful venom. You know this look, these eyes, that deadly grin. He isn't fucking around and the way he can express that so physically subtly astounds you. "The arguing is going to stop. The petty comments are going to stop. We're going to sit here and have conversations like adults, or you can leave and your daughter and I will have a nice dinner."

"Wh-" Dad starts but doesn't get any further.

"I am not goin' to repeat myself." Billy stands up straight and raises his eyebrows, daring your parents to say another word. The tension is thick, you can hardly breathe. Never did you think you'd have to witness Billy being like this with your parents of all people.

You grab a roll from the basket at the center of the table and pick at it. "How's work been, Dad?"

Dad clears his throat. "Good, busy. People always need an electrician for something. I did a school the other day, new classroom."

Billy sits beside you and lays his hand on your leg, thumb stroking your skin gently. He leans in and whispers "I told you don't worry." He turns his attention back to your parents. "So you're an electrician? Contractor?"

"Yeah, I work for Mundun Electric. Union job, pays well."

"And you?" Billy looks to your mom.

"I'm a medical receptionist. Clarke Center Hospital."

Billy smiles. "That's incredible. You're both hardworking people it seems, I see where she gets her work ethic. She's incredible, the best I've hired for Anvil."

You chew your lip and look down, flushed. "You're just being nice."

"I'm serious." He holds your hand up and kisses your knuckles. "I admire your dedication and the hard work you've put into making Anvil a success. Without you, I don't know where I'd be. Probably buried in paperwork."

"So you work for Billy? That's how you met?" Mom asks and you nod.

Dad raises his eyebrows.

"Dad, don't start."

Billy cuts a glare at your dad. "Don't start what?"

"Nothing." Dad says nonchalantly, eyes going to somewhere else in the room. "I just think inter-workplace relationships are never a good idea."

You squeeze Billy's hand and he just smiles oh so sweetly. "Dad, it's fine. Billy and I are both professionals. If things don't work out we'll make it work for the sake of the company."

"He'll fire you and you'll be looking for a job yet again." Mom pipes up, rolling her eyes. "See, things like this are why you can't hold a career."

"Mom!"

"Alright." Billy says firmly. "We're done here. Ma'am, sir, with all due respect you can both go fuck yourselves."

"Excuse me!?" Dad bellows and your mom looks flustered at the use of language. "You have no right-!"

"Actually I do." Billy stands and guides you to stand with him. "I'm going to love and care about your daughter the way she should be. You two are self absorbed monsters who should have never had a child, let alone forced the one you had to live through a loveless marriage. The fact that you cannot manage to sit here and have dinner with her and myself, which mind you has left quite a first impression, is sad and disappointing."

You grab his hand and you're shaking. You don't even know what to say. It's like Billy is telling them everything you've wanted to for your whole life.

"C'mon sweetheart." He puts his arm around you and guides you out of the restaurant. You know there are people staring but it's fine. It's over now.

"I'm s-"

"Uh uh." Billy puts his finger to your lips. "No apologies. Here." He shrugs his suit jacket off and puts it around your shoulders.

"Thanks."

"You wanna get out of here before your parents come out. Go get some burgers or something?"

You can't help the little smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Pete's Diner?"

"Anywhere you like." He takes your hand and walks you toward the parking area. "Fuck this fancy bullshit anyway. I never understood the food they serve."

"Me neither. A hamburger and fries with a big ole pickle is good enough for me."

Billy opens the passenger door for you. "You're a girl after my heart y'know that?"

"I think I already have it."

He leans in and kisses your forehead. "That's for damn sure."

_____________________

Midnight you wake up crying. A nightmare, a reoccurring one as it would be. Though it is more of a twisted memory than a nightmare in actuality.

You are always around seven or eight years old, it's nighttime, you've been in bed for an hour and still not asleep. Downstairs your parents are awake, their disembodied voices float through the old floors. Their voices grow louder, shouting, screaming at each other. A glass shatters and you crawl under the bed. Footsteps come closer in the hall, heavy and slow.

The dream shifts. You're not a child but an adult. Under the bed is smaller now, the footsteps grow louder. The door opens and you scream when your foot is grabbed and you wake up crying.

"What's wrong?" Billy asks, sitting up in bed abruptly and turning on the light, hand instinctively going for the nightstand where you know a weapon is stored.

You had stayed the night, both of you decided it was best to stay together while you decompress from your tragic meet the parents dinner. Didn't matter in the end though. The nightmare still came.

"Just a bad dream. I'm going to get some water." You push back the blankets and plant your feet on the cold floor. It's a nice shock to the system, reminding you this is reality.

Billy's arm snakes around your waist. "Care to share with the class?"

"It's nothing. Just a nonsense dream about old crap."

"Your parents?"

"Yeah. Um, just a dream." You yawn and pat his hand on top of your stomach. "I need water."

"Grab me a bottle?"

"Sure."

You end up in the kitchen, looking out at the New York skyline. His place is so beautiful. It's luxurious, and you can't get used to it. You lean on the island and sip a bottle of cold water from the fridge. You don't think you belong here.

Then the dream comes creeping back in. Rationally you know that dream is never going to become a reality. Not with Billy around.

"Hey."

You look back to see Billy walking in with his sleep pants low on his hips. He scrubs a hand over his face before meeting you at the island.

"Sorry, I just got caught up in the view."

"It s'okay." His arms wrap around you and he presses his face to your neck. "I love you." He whispers softly into your skin.

"Are you alright?"

"Mmm."

You thread a hand into his hair and scratch at his scalp. It elicits a hum that's nearly a purr against your back. "Do you ever feel like you don't deserve this? Like everyday you can't comprehend that you're loved."

"I didn't think I could fall in love before I met you, yeah. I'm familiar."

"Oh."

"Wasn't expecting that?" He chuckles, flexing his fingers against your tummy.

You shake your head and he kisses along your jaw. "Billy, stop," you giggle as his short beard tickles your skin.

"No way." He starts walking you back away from the island counter and toward the bedroom. "I've got a disease and if I don't kiss you all the time I'll definitely succumb to it."

The two of you tumble onto the bed and he straddles your hips, mouthing at your neck and chest relentlessly.

"It's three in the morning. We need to go back to sleep."

Billy hums and settles on top of you, nose in your hair. "Sleep is for the weak."

"Then I'm weak." You trail a hand up his back, fingers flitting over his shoulder blade. His skin is so soft, so warm. "Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"Being here when I had a nightmare."

"Of course." Billy pets your hair, stroking it down against the pillow. "I've suffered my share of them alone. I'm glad you were here so you weren't."

"Me too."

"Go to sleep." He kisses your cheek and rolls off to the side. His arm curls around you and pulls you close. "Love you."

"Love you too."

_____________________

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

Header image by delicate-venus

Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A

#billy russo #the punisher series #the punisher #the punisher netflix #billy russo x reader #ben barnes characters #the punisher fic #billy russo fic #billy russo fanfic

[cattypatties]

Tell Me

Silence

Noun

Complete absence of sound.

Except, that wasn’t true for this situation.

The two rivals did sit in silence, but that only applied for them. As for the rest of the world? No, no it didn’t. The bonfire crackled before them, and nature around them made noise too, the crickets mainly. The small sounds of shifting, and other things, before suddenly it was broken by a loud snore instantly getting the duo’s attention as they snapped their heads to look over to the ex-security guard DJ with an arm around Kate, snoring loudly. Daffy let out a small breath of relief before he heard the fire crackle more and a roasted carrot was brought up in front of his bill a second time that night.

“You sure you don’t want one?”

“No, like I said the first time, Bugsth.”

He said, before falling back into silence.

There was almost a tension in the air, both able to sense it, mainly Daffy who clasped his hands together resting his arms on his knees, hunched towards the fire. His hands shaking a bit, the raven feathered duck staring intently at the fire now. As he swallowed a bit, before his eyes flicked to the rabbit, teal locked with gold.

Bugs really was the perfect guy…funny, charismatic, just a bit cocky, and overall charitable. His golden eyes, like drops of honey, swirling with color and entrapping. He could get lost in them and at this rate? He already was, at least until Bugs cleared his throat awkwardly, Daffy in turn snapping out of it and backing up slightly from when his body had apparently shifted to lean towards Bugs. He looked away feeling his face heat up a bit, before shaking it off. As he turned back to the rabbit who gave him a confused look. The duck finally deciding to break the silence between the two of them

“..Bugsth?”

“..yes?”

“How..?”

He asked quietly, which wasn’t usual for the loud mouth Daffy was known as. Even surprising Bugs, who earlier that night recalled their conversation, noting specifically that..well to put it simply, Daffy had reached out to him and was extremely vulnerable, no hidden intentions, no sarcasm. Just as quiet as he was now. Though they didn’t get anywhere with it because Bugs Bunny, despite everything that he was written as, wasn’t emotional. At least not in the serious way like their rival company. Usually most conflict was solved by dropping an anvil on the other, or a pie to the face, something the audience would laugh at, that Bugs would laugh at, but he knew deep down, that wasn’t what Daffy needed from him.

After all..they were best friends.

So, hesitantly, he replied.

“Eh, what do you mean ‘How’?”

He asked, cringing at how almost dismissive and genuinely confused he sounded. He didn’t bother looking at Daffy when he did reply, after all this was brand new territory for Bugs, he wasn’t meant to be..like this.

He wasn’t meant to be vulnerable.

After a couple minutes he heard a small scoff, presumably from Daffy. The duck seemingly not happy about his response, as if Bugs was just that uncaring and unbothered.

“I mean, the conversation we just had, bucktooth.” He spat, his anger clear in his voice before he calmed down and ran hand through his hair.

Frustrated, Daffy stood up and walked off to a nearby canyon wall, pacing next to it, before leaning against it and crossing his arms, huffing. Bugs got up and followed him, after taking his roasted carrot off the stick he put it on, walking over, carrot in hand as he took a bite from it, leaning next to Daffy, facing him.

“The conversation about..?”

“You should know.”

The duck snapped at him, looking towards him again.

“Warner brothers?”

There was another silence, if only for a few minutes before Daffy grabbed that stupid carrot away from the rabbit and threw it as far as he could into the desert and before Bugs could even make a comment, the toon grabbed him by his arms and shoved him against the canyon wall angrily, as he glared at Bugs. His body was shaking as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“N-NO! GOD- g-god no! It’s not about them!”

He yelled out, desperately.

His eyes wide now as they looked panicked, hurt, and genuinely taken aback. Causing the bunny to go dead quiet watching him, his whiskers tangled and eyes wide too.

“I-it’s about me! About you!—US.”

He cried out shaking him a bit

“Daff-“

“You don’t get it, do you?! I have been working my whole life to get to the top! I have done everything you did and better!”

The Duck said, voice breaking slightly, unbeknownst to him, the two humans sleeping nearby, waking up to see them, as they watched holding their breath.

“Everything those damn executives have ever asked of me, I’ve done! I played the role of the villain, I played the role of the dumb rival to the great Bugsth Bunny! I did E-EVERYTHING!”

He yelled louder, letting go of Bugs arms and pressing a finger to his chest.

“I know my role! But does the audience care? No! Because you’re the hero, you’re the good guy that everyone cheers for! I’m all bam! Wham! Ka-POW!”

He said smacking himself on the head, as stars flew around it.

“I’d rather work for that rat over at Disney than deal with this!”

He growled, right up in Bugs face.

Bugs backing up further against the wall, watching Daffy and although he was taller he felt a thousand times smaller.

“D-Daff..it’s..”

“Don’t say it isn’t true. Don’t lie to my face rabbit!”

Bugs felt his heart pounding crazily, his breath hitching, watching Daffy yell, it wasn’t like all those times before when they argued and then they did something funny, this was raw anger. This was..reality, it wasn’t an act and of course he knew this, he knew it the moment Daffy snapped. It just,, was a lot to take in.

Daffy upon seeing Bugs expression backed up, quietly as he looked down at his hands which were by his sides in clenched fists.

He frowned, feeling something prick at his eyes, when suddenly, a soft silky hand was put to his shoulder and his eyes flicked up towards the grey bunny.

“Daffy.. I didn’t know you..”

He took a deep breath

“I’m really, truly, sorry.”

The two looked at one another, before Daffy shrugged him off taking a few steps back.

“I’m not coming back to that studio, and I am not dealing with this, I’m gonna get that blue monkey diamond for myself…”

He looked away from Bugs

“See ya around Bugsth.”

He murmured, starting to walk off, before in one swift motion Bugs grabbed his wrist, stopping Daffy.

“Daffy.”

The duck turned to look at him and the moment he did, regret filled him because the rabbit was tearing up slightly, and of course it could’ve been an act, they were actors, but it just felt different. He watched Bugs, holding his breath, the Rabbit sniffling slightly.

“Tell me you didn’t have at least one good memory.”

He said looking to him, which in turn made the Duck look away, before Bugs got closer.

“Daffy.”

He repeated, his voice wavering as the Duck turned back again, Bugs only a few inches away. Daffy swallowed, his face heating up a bit.

The two just a few inches apart, staring. Kate and Dj looking at them, as they watched Bugs get closer

“Tell me.”

He repeated once again, his voice breaking slightly.

Daffy looking to him and sighing

“Yeah..I did have one.”

He answered softly, glancing down. Eventually moving to take Bugs’ hand in his as he rubs a thumb over his knuckles blushing more, thankful his feathers were so dark that Bugs couldn’t see. Another hand being placed over his from the grey bunny as the toon glanced up at him, as he looked to their hands again as Bugs’ hand just covered Daffy’s hand.

“…the first time we met. I swear..”

He chuckled softly smiling a tiny bit

“You were brand new and shy. Like incredibly shy and when we shook hands you were shaking from nerves, I had never seen someone so nervous and you even admitted to me..that I was..your hero…me, Daffy Duck..your hero. I was amazed, and flattered.. and it was nice for the time it lasted.”

Bugs listened, and watched Daffy’s body language, the duck having never been this genuine about something. He supposed he forgot after seeing Daffy play his role for so long, that he..wasn’t that type of guy, but because everyone thought he was, he continued playing that role. Daffy had put on a mask..and Bugs finally got to see it come off, he got to see him smile..

Daffy rarely smiled happily.

That smile..was beautiful, it lit up the world in that one moment. It even made Bugs smile a tiny bit too, even despite their situation, however, as soon as it appeared, it was gone. The duck frowning now, the two friends quiet.

Bugs felt terrible, a wave of guilt washing over him, as he considered Daffy’s words, he recalled his movements and his tone, and when he finally realized Daffy was probably going to leave, he didn’t know if he should even bother stopping him, because it was obvious that Bugs Bunny had failed Daffy Duck as a friend. He failed terribly hard and honestly? No amount of apologies could fix this.

But he wanted to so badly.

Because despite everything there was a reason Bugs kept chasing after Daffy when he did anything, there was a reason he always was willing to help him. There was a reason now why Bugs had grabbed him, and was trying to stop him.

There was a reason, He had such a soft spot for Daffy.

Bugs swallowed, as he snapped out of it and locked eyes with the toon. He stepped closer, as close as he could and pulled Daffy into a hug.

The raven feathered bird freezing up in his arms, his arms in turn raising up in surprise as his breath hitched. The duck, not moving.

“B-Bugsth?”

“..I-I’m sorry.”

He said, holding back his tears as he hugged Daffy’s thin frame tighter.

The Duck tensed up, before eventually hugging back as he closed his eyes, tearing up too. The two hugged each other tightly and stayed like that for the rest of the night, unmoving.

#bugs x daffy #bugs and daffy #daffyduck bugsbunny looneytunes #baffy #my writing #my fic #bugs bunny #daffy duck

[stillebesat]

Demon Comfort (3/3)

DECEMBER DRABBLES DAY 14  Sanders Sides: Logan, Virgil Blurb: Lurking under a Human’s bed should be downright dull for a Demon of Logan’s rank. And yet…he can’t help but be intrigued by his human charge. Fic Type: Demon!AU, Demon!Logan Overall Fic Warnings: Near Death Experiences, Freezing, Burning, Hazing Talk, Manipulation Taglist in reblog. To Catch Up: Part 1  Part 2 

He’d been staring at the pages of the book Virgil had brought for him for hours now, not taking in a single word written there. 

How could he when his charge was late. 

Logan tsked, tail tapping a staccato against the bed frame as he flipped the book shut, turning his head to glare at the door, doing his best to ignore the twisting in his chest the--the worry that he was feeling.  

Virgil could take care of himself. He knew that.

But after having to rescue his charge twice from life or death situations. It was...stressful, far more stressful than it should ever be, to wait for him to come back home from class. Especially since it was easily becoming clear that despite his craving for a fresh start, despite the fact that Logan had gone out and handily taken care of the six people responsible for nearly cooking his human in the boiler room, that Virgil still was not happy here.

Logan paused, tilting his head as he felt the first threads of the familiar thundercloud approaching. Finally. He relaxed when the bedroom door swung open, a black and purple backpack dropping to the floor a second later with a muted thud.

If it weren’t for the fact that he was trying to stick to the very last shreds of the rules of conduct between demon and human where he wouldn’t reveal himself unless Virgil called for him, Logan would have been out from under the bed in a flash demanding to know where in the world his charge had been and why he was only getting home now when Logan knew the boy had finished classes before lunch and had a mountain of unfinished final term papers to complete and--

Virgil dropped to his knees next to the bed, a purple blanket pooling at his feet. “Scoot over.” He said, not giving Logan a chance to react before shoving his way under the bed.

“Wha--WHY?!” He choked out in surprise. This wasn’t---Virgil had never indicated an interest in visiting him under here before. 

Yet as soon as he caught sight of his tear streaked face, Logan found himself automatically lifting one wing and shifting his position to hold out an arm so he could slip underneath, a hot spike of anger rising in his chest. Virgil didn’t cry. He didn’t--What had happened to his dark and broody charge?

Virgil didn’t hesitate, ducking under both wing and arm to curl up into his chest, his soft hair tickling Logan’s chin as the boy choked back a sob, clinging to him. “Ju--just hold me for a minute, okay?” He whispered.

Logan lowered his wing, easily hiding him from view as he tightened his grip around him, holding Virgil close as he ran gentle claws through his hair. “Of course.” He said, careful to keep his voice from echoing. 

He frowned up at the pitch black cloud that hung like an anvil over Virgil’s head, catching only glimpses of the past four hours of torture his charge had been through. Glimpses because Virgil’s thoughts were being slippery, his human not wanting him to know exactly what had gone wrong. Annoying that. He shouldn’t have admitted to being able to see and influence the boy’s thoughts. “You’re safe here.” He whispered, fighting the fury rising within him as Virgil broke down, hot tears dripping onto his chest. 

“I-I know. I ju-just--” He shuddered. “I hate this place.” 

Logan blinked. Huh? How was that--just this morning his charge had once again shrugged off the light meddling that he’d done to the tangle of thoughts over his head to try and convince him to leave! Yet Virgil had been firm in stating that he was fine here. 

Obviously he wasn’t doing so fine if he hated being here. 

Logan ran his claws through Virgil’s hair, observing those twisting thoughts with no intention of meddling at the moment. 

No, he was seeking to understand why the sudden change of heart when nothing he had suggested had worked. “We both do. Why do you think I’ve been trying to convince you to leave?” The cold for one was getting tiresome. Spring should be bringing warmer temperatures and yet up here in the north it hardly felt like they’d come out of winter at all.

“I just--” The dark cloud over his head seemed to grow darker. “I just...wanted it to change you know? How can I be a thousand miles away from my old life, and yet everyone here still treats me like I’m the scum of the earth? I just--I just...wish someone here besides you would like me. You know? Where I could just--relax and not constantly be worrying if I’m secretly hated and they’re gonna try and--and--”

“Lock you in the janitor’s closet?” Logan asked, his chest rumbling with a suppressed growl as he finally found the thread leading to the event that Virgil had been trying to hide from him.

Even with him drastically reducing his meddling with Virgil’s thoughts, it seemed like his charge really couldn’t catch a break here. Especially if this--this freshman hazing kept up. Even if Virgil kept insisting that it was nothing and that his...peers’…antics should stay unreported to the police--not that that hadn’t stopped Logan from going off and enacting his own little revenge on the people that had threatened his human’s life--it would only be a matter of time before he would need to guard his charge twenty-four seven to keep him safe. To keep him alive. 

That was no way for a human to live. A demon’s guardianship was hardly a good guardianship after all.

Virgil gave a bitter laugh, thoughts swirling, giving Logan glimpses of the faces of the new people torturing his charge. 

It was a bittersweet realization that. Sure he was proud his ability to terrorize others hadn’t been dulled with this...softening towards this one particular human, but if getting rid of the one batch of rotten eggs only encouraged another group to take up the calling to make Virgil’s life miserable---

“They took my backpack this time.” He whispered, resting his head against Logan’s chest. “I had to MacGyver a way to melt the hinges off the door with chemicals from the closet before I could escape. Then it took me another hour to track down where they’d thrown my bag--at least I found it.” 

Was that supposed to be reassuring? That this time, he’d managed to get free by himself? If it was...it didn’t make Logan feel any better. Not when it left his charge in tears. 

Not when it left him wondering what would have happened if Virgil hadn’t managed to MacGyver-whatever that meant- his way out of his predicament. Just how long would it have been before Logan would have realized he wasn’t coming back? That he needed help? It just--that ache that--that worry in his chest only grew stronger at the thought. 

Honestly, he didn’t understand most human devices, but if he needed to obtain a freaking cell phone and enchant it so that Virgil would always be able to contact him he would. The hassle would be worth it if it meant his charge would remain safe. That at the first sign of trouble Virgil could call for help and immediately receive it.

Better than leaving him wondering if Logan would find him in time. If he’d--- He exhaled. “I know it won’t mean much coming from me.” He whispered, committing to memory the faces of the people he needed to go take care of next, all too aware of how much he, himself, had contributed to his charge’s woes while here. “But you don’t deserve this.”

Virgil let out a shaky breath, the dark cloud swirling over his head shifting to a lighter grey as he looked up meeting Logan’s slitted eyes. “I want to make a deal.” 

He blinked, ignoring how his hearts leapt at the words every demon craved to hear at the unexpected phrase. “No you don’t.” 

Virgil set his jaw, eyes unwavering. “I do.”

Logan frowned, fighting the desire to break eye contact to see what the twisting threads of thought were leading to. To find out why Virgil was requesting this now. No, it was best to hear it straight from the human himself. 

He let out a slow breath. Knowing his charge, his reasoning would be convoluted and yet still make perfect sense. “I’m willing to hear you out, but I do not agree to agree to anything beyond that. You’ve already dealt with enough trouble in your life without adding a demonic deal to it.” 

Virgil gave a wobbly smirk, hardly fazed as he tapped Logan’s chest with a single finger. “Your side.” He said. “You want me to move elsewhere. Want me to go to a different school. Someplace warmer. Safer.” 

Logan gave a slow nod. “Yes?” Though wasn’t this deal supposed to be about what the human wanted to get instead of the demon?  

“Then I’ll agree to moving. Even let you pick the school and the place I’ll stay at IF.” He stressed the word again tapping Logan’s chest. “You agree to three things first.” 

Three things in exchange for one of safety? Typical human. He narrowed his eyes, tail tapping against the floorboards. “And those are?” 

“One. You stop hiding under my bed like an overgrown dust bunny. Two. You become my roommate and go to the school you’ve chosen with me--don’t give me that look.” 

Logan growled, tail dancing back and forth against the wall. He would give out all the looks he wanted thank you very much. Because that was---okay being out from under the bed would be wonderful but be a roommate?! “I can’t replace your need for human interaction and companionship, Virgil.”

Sure, it did make a nice loophole that his superiors couldn’t argue against because the human had requested his near-constant presence in this deal. But it couldn’t work. Demons and Humans weren’t meant to be roommates. It was hardly a healthy relationship when Logan had the ability to manipulate Virgil’s thoughts! Plus! Figuring out an adequate human disguise to uphold all hours of the day in order to go to school would be a nightmare and a half with the rituals and the charm work involved to hide his demonic looks.  

“Three.” Virgil continued, ignoring Logan’s outburst, the cloud above his head shifting closer to white as he grew more fond of how this deal was turning out. “You pick out our other roommate or roommates. Ones who know you are a demon so you won’t have to disguise yourself when you’re home.”  

That was---huh. So he’d only have to look human while in public? Logan tsked, claws carefully brushing Virgil’s tear streaked cheeks, his wings quivering with the urge to agree to this--this foolhardiness as his mind raced to find any downsides for his end of this deal. For any loopholes to exploit despite him not wanting to do anything of the sort to Virgil. Not when his charge was finally finally willing to move away from this awful place.

Except there was one problem. The humans.

“Most humans who willingly interact with demons are not the sort of individuals I would trust to room with you.” He said, shaking his head. His goal was to keep Virgil safe. Not set him up for further attempts on his life.

Virgil raised an eyebrow, eyes glinting. “I specifically said those who know you are a demon, Lo. That doesn’t have to mean they’ve interacted with others.” 

Clever. “But I don’t interact with other humans!” If he hadn’t broken the rules, Virgil would never be having this conversation with him in the first place because he wouldn’t know Logan existed. “Demons don’t interact with humans unless they are summoned. How am I--!”

“I never summoned you though. And yet here we are.” 

Logan had to look away at that. Avoid staring at the positively smug face his charge was giving him. “That’s different.” He finally muttered. Most demons didn’t care what happened to the humans they dealt with. Logan was an outlier in that sense. Sent to lurk under a bed as punishment and instead found that he liked it even if Virgil’s stubborn nature drove him up the wall most of the time. 

“Different because you were hiding under my bed for who knows how long?” 

He grimaced. It hadn’t even been a year yet. Not that long at all in human terms. “In a way.” 

He flinched as Virgil placed a palm against his cheek, turning his head back to face him. “You were the monster under my bed until you decided I needed a Guardian instead.” He said softly. “Why can’t you go find another human whose needs are similar to mine? Find someone we both can get along with. And once you do, I’ll move wherever you want me to for school. Those are my terms.” 

Logan hardly cared if another human liked him. He was a demon. Humans were supposed to fear his kind. But Virgil? His human needed a good roommate. One that would want to be around him, unlike Virgil’s current set that barely acknowledged his existence unless it was his turn to take out the trash. However, if he was out hunting for this good roommate…that would mean--

“I can hardly be considered a Guardian if you’re left defenseless while I’m off searching who knows where for who knows how long for this hypothetical person!” Logan retorted. “You would have to allow me to establish a means to ensure you’re safe while I am gone or that you could summon me if you find yourself in danger before I would even consider--” 

“What sort of thing?” 

Logan frowned. Was the stress of three near death attempts addling his charge’s mind? Perhaps the air underneath the bed was’t flowing properly--he shifted, teleporting them both onto Virgil’s bed where he could have this conversation in a more proper format. After all, humans didn’t usually make deals under their beds. Though it probably was too much to expect his charge to draw a sigil on the floor. Not if he wanted his deposit back. 

He kept a wing securely around Virgil as the human adjusted his position to rest more comfortably against him, a move that should be more counter-intuitive despite Logan’s proclamations of keeping him safe. There was too much trust here. Virgil had hardly done more than sharply inhale at them suddenly appearing on top of his bed.

“So?” He asked once he was comfortable, fingers brushing against the inside of Logan’s wing. “What sort of thing were you thinking?” 

Logan shrugged a shoulder, trying to not focus on how relaxed Virgil was with him. “...I was considering a cell phone.” 

The laugh his charge let out shouldn’t make his hearts flutter so.

Virgil grinned, shaking his head, the storm cloud above him glittering brightly despite it’s shifting state. “That’s so...human, Lo. But what if it dies? What if I get mine taken away? They’re hardly reliable despite how much I use mine. Isn’t there a sort of…” He waved a hand around. “Sigil or spell or mark? Something that you can place on me?” 

Yes. But--

Before he could speak his charge ducked out from under his wing, grabbing at his backpack on the floor and digging into it. “I could draw something on me.” He offered, pulling out a pen. “And then you enchant it or whatever to--are you okay?”

That was---ha. Logan swallowed, wings shifting back as he looked his human in the eyes. “That is...it’s not a light commitment to make, Virgil.” He finally answered. “You shouldn’t allow any demon, let alone me--” Despite how much he desperately wanted it. It would be so much easier to ensure he could protect Virgil than using a cell phone. “--to mark you so. I doubt you want a permanent connection to me and a sigil once placed on living flesh cannot easily be removed.” 

Virgil tapped his pen against his lips, tilting his head as he silently studied Logan. 

His tail twisted at the scrutiny. “It’s too much of a risk.” He repeated, holding his hands palm up. “You have no guarantee that I will remain a...Guardian to you.” Though at this point he couldn’t see him being anything else. “I am a Demon. It’s not in our nature to--”

He cut off as Virgil reached out, resting his hands in Logan’s clawed ones, gently squeezing them. “Lo.” 

His hearts skipped a beat at the nickname. Gah. If Virgil ever figured out how being called Lo truly affected him, far more than any deal would, he would be completely done for--he flinched, inhaling sharply as a purplish glow appeared, covering both of their hands as his charge gave a small smirk. 

“You’ve saved my life twice now.” He said softly, leaning forward, unfazed by the glow. 

Though of course Virgil would have no idea that this wasn’t normal, not when Logan hadn’t done anything! 

“That’s hardly a demon’s nature now is it? To save someone? Someone who made no deal to gain such protection?” 

….No. It wasn’t normal. He knew that. He-- Logan made a sound in his throat as the purplish glow shifted between them winding like a ribbon around their wrists. He eyed it warily, it was a sign, despite the fact that the glowing ribbon should be red instead of purple, that a deal was being struck though Logan had made no active attempt to initiate one. Hadn’t wanted--

“You’re no ordinary demon, Lo.” 

No...he wasn’t much like the others was he? Interacting with humans...a human...with Virgil willingly without being compelled to. To want to protect his charge, seeking to help him instead of...well...continuing to make him suffer. 

“If you don’t want the mark on me to be permanent then make it temporary.” Virgil said, maintaining eye contact. “Make it last as long as you need it to. But I know you know you want to know I’m okay. Is this not a good way to go about it?”  

His breath caught in his throat. There was too much trust in him here. Far too much. Virgil didn’t know what he was getting into. He couldn’t--it wasn’t safe. “I don’t--” Logan swallowed, fingers trembling in Virgil’s hands as the ribbon pulsed around them. “A demonic deal is never safe.” He couldn’t risk his charge like this. Something would go wrong. It wasn’t worth it. “I don’t want to make this type of deal. Any deal with you.” He whispered, wings fluttering with heat as he broke eye contact, bowing his head to his charge. 

“Lo?” Virgil adjusted his grip, squeezing his hands.  

He shuddered, eyes burning despite his inability to shed tears, his hearts pounding like the drums of war as he clung to those hands, careful always careful so that his claws wouldn’t pierce his delicate flesh, wouldn’t draw blood to seal whatever deal this purple ribbon was trying to instigate. He couldn’t hurt him. 

“It’s not proper.” He said softly. “A demon shouldn’t care about this. A demon would just say yes. But I can’t. Because I do. I care. I just want you safe, Virgil. Protected. Happy. A deal won’t-- I can’t---a demon can’t--” 

“Perhaps.” Virgil tilted his head, peering up into Logan’s slitted eyes. “You should stop thinking of yourself as a demon then.”

He blinked, wings drawing back as the purple ribbon pulsed. “What?” But that--that’s what he was. Sure, he wasn’t acting like one currently, but no one would look at him and think he was anything else.

“Well...you’ve already said it yourself, haven’t you? Starting back when I nearly froze to death. What you really are.” 

He’d said a lot of--Wait. Logan looked up, barely able to breathe from how tight his chest felt. “You...remember that time?” 

Virgil shook his head. “Not all of it. But I do remember one thing, Lo.” He grinned, eyes glittering as the purple ribbon flashed a brilliant indigo, the bright warm light washing over Logan before he could blink.  

“You’re a Guardian. My Guardian.” End.

#Demon Comfort #December Drabbles #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Logan #Virgil #Logic #Anxiety #Demon!Logan #Near Death experience tw #Hazing tw #Manipulation tw #December Day 14

[book-o-scams]

'Sorry Wrong Ed' Alternate Ending Storyboard Sequence

Check out Al Kang's Ed, Edd n Eddy portfolio!

Al Kang worked on the show during seasons 3-4 and had roles on the storyboard and prop teams apparently. (IMDb says he was credited as Al Choi at the time, but it also says he worked on season 1 episodes, which doesn't line up with the timeline he mentioned.. anyway.)

I discovered his portfolio a few months ago after seeing fandom discussion of the alternate 'Sorry Wrong Ed' ending. I was pleasantly surprised to find a few other treats as well! But yes, I even sorta liked what I learned about 'Sorry Wrong Ed' in the process... (I threw in a little analysis comparing the two endings at the bottom)

I noticed Al seemed to mix up the order on these, so I thought I'd try my best to figure out the right order. This was the most confusing one for me to try and figure out the order of since almost all 8 pages were out of order. I think I finally figured out what's going on in the original ending.

So this alternate ending starts at an unknown point with Eddy flat on the ground, presumably injured, picking himself back up. At this point in the final cut of the episode, Eddy has just been squashed by a tree, but this seems more like a different injury, and he's not even retaining his injuries from the truck scene... The scenes with Jonny and Plank from the final cut of the episode seem to not exist at all here, Jonny and Plank don't appear in this sequence.

Anyway, Eddy picks himself up in the middle of an on-going scene, sees Jimmy drop a coin in a jar for Ed, who has inexplicably turned the cursed phone into a scam on his own. Edd is glaring at the off-screen kids, who have somehow learned about this phone and are excited to kill Eddy with it.

Eddy: "Jimmy! No!"

Jimmy answers the phone: "Hello?"

Ed: "HA HA HA"

Edd: "You people don't seriously believe--"

Then we sync up with gags that did happen in the ending of Sorry Wrong Ed, with context that makes its tone a little more sadistic than random. Jimmy's paid phonecall drops the sandbox on Eddy.

This page has the most skeletal dialogue...

Kev: "Yes." (I think he's meant to be fist pumping because Eddy got hurt, more of a "Yes!")

Jimmy: "BAD LUCK EDDY PHONE." (this dialogue must have been a placeholder)

Edd: "HA HA" (sarcastic ha-ha or did Al mean to write "Ed" for this?)

Jimmy seems to offer the phone to Edd.

We sync up again with Edd's denial from the final cut of this episode, except now it actually makes sense that he's so one-track-minded, because there are people actively arguing with him and keeping him disengaged from the victim.

Edd: "There must be a cargo plane overfilled with playground supplies..."

Sarah interrupts him.

RING RING

Sarah: "Oh, that's for me."

Eddy at this point holds Ed responsible, as he should, and starts running to stop Ed or Sarah. Ed offers no explanation for his betrayal.

Eddy: "Ed! What are you doing!?"

Sarah: "Hello?"

Sarah's paid phonecall summons the hippos, the most random moment in the final cut of the episode. Note how both of these slapstick gags were storyboarded on the same generic background, seems like the lane or an empty lot, but clearly a different location than Eddy's front yard from the aired ending.

And that's all we have to go off of!

I'll put my updated opinions below the cut, but suffice it to say, I like the episode a little better now! Knowing what the ending was going to be and trying to figure out the choices that led to the ending we got, I feel more appreciative that it didn't end up a lost episode or something and less annoyed that it was 11 minutes of one joke.

I know I have a reputation for not finding slapstick funny and disliking this episode, but violence was never my only issue. Lots of episodes have lackluster slapstick that I just let wash over me. My point that never gets as much focus is that this episode never felt FINISHED to begin with. It's just a slapstick vacuum with no ending and no point, and it used to be frustrating to me not knowing for sure if my hunch was right or not that it felt like the episode just wasn't working and they had to cobble it together from the scenes that almost worked.

I am surprised to say I like the episode more now that I know that is pretty close to the truth. Judging from this peek into the episode's development, this episode seems to have reached Danny Antonucci's and/or Wootie's (the episode's lead board artist) limit for being mean-spirited with the characters without a reason. I'll still probably avoid rewatching it, but knowing the episode has no ending specifically because it's been trimmed to bare bones is somehow reassuring.

The most obvious flaw to this original ending is the lack of motivation for Ed's or the kids' actions. The kids presumably still weren't in the rest of the episode, so there's really no reason for them to be here other than reiterating the same idea from 'Your Ed Here' and 'The Good Ole Ed' that the neighborhood kids are always looking for a reason to gang up on Eddy, something that isn't really true of those characters in earlier seasons.

I think I can imagine how, on paper (in the writers' outline), this episode sounded funnier. Trying to imagine this ending as part of the whole episode, I think the script's idea of the final joke is that Ed is not satisfied with ending the tests at the point where they tried to return the phone to Rolf. I think Ed converts the curse-testing process to a scam at that point, building off of how Ed already wasn't processing Eddy's safety in anything so far, and is probably more focused on proving to Edd that curses are real (as Ed was previously in league with Evil Tim). The addition of Ed running his own tests and the kids arguing Eddy's point against Edd's while Eddy's busy, does sound more like a complete manic cartoon boiling point than the way the finished episode just petered out with Edd as the sole antagonist. But unfortunately, in visual execution, suddenly piling in so many aggressive characters and so much random violence at once, would only really result in it petering out at a higher volume.

Meanwhile Edd's characterization is made much more structurally sound in the original ending. He's annoyed FOR Eddy's sake, and the only reason he's not actively helping Eddy is because like 3 other characters were supposed to be arguing with him while this was happening. It seems extremely apparent to me that the cuts made to this ending were for the sake of mitigating Ed's reputation in the fandom, as well as the kids', and I think it's really unfortunate that Edd's characterization was the cost for salvaging everyone else's. I'm glad I already considered his behavior in 'Sorry Wrong Ed' non-canon, because now it feels like the reason the aired ending is so out-of-character is just because Edd is basically arguing with the ghost of the original scene. I formally forgive 'Sorry Wrong Ed'. Production turnarounds are tough and AKA did their best to not turn this into another forgotten 'Special Ed' episode that simply wasn't working.

I think ditching the original ending was ultimately the right call. It was not an exemplary episode, but I can admit it's less out of place to have a pure "vacuum of violence" story than it would've been to essentially give the kids a supernatural revenge plot like this. That would've been really weird to have to accept-- Eddy definitely wouldn't want to be friends with anyone at the end of the movie if THIS was their past. Changing it to an unaware Jonny and a questionably aware Plank being responsible, indeed, was a vibe that landed much more like standard EEnE fare. It was weird enough that the kids all saw Santa in JJJ, can you imagine if they all knew curses were real AND participated in attacking a neighbor with one??

If there was a silver lining for me the first time I saw this episode, it was that none of the kids were directly involved in Eddy's suffering. It made the questionable reality of the cursed device slightly more acceptable that only the Eds and Rolf know about the curse. If this ending had happened, I would've reacted the same, but I would've rejected its continuity even more than I do now, because it would just feel like they animated one of the DC Comics (where the kids can blow the Eds up with fireworks at the end or the Eds can randomly be crushed under an avalanche of anvils)-- the art could end up gorgeous but the characterizations don't exactly land as real human beings, the balance this show strives for typically.

And I think that's all I wanted to say! In the end, I found myself liking 'Sorry Wrong Ed' slightly more than I used to, all thanks to this glimpse into how the animation production system morphs the outcome of a cartoon. Thanks so much to Al Kang, for sharing your art and this insight into the industry! I don't know whether he did both the gesture drawings and the revised art, but judging from his other boards I think the cleaned up art is his, and I liked seeing the poses that almost were!

#ed edd n eddy #sorry wrong ed #al kang #storyboard #concept art #alternate ending #deleted ending #alternate sequence #analysis

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 9

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Someone loses the plot and makes a bad decision. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

You FaceTimed him, but it rang out unanswered. Shrugging, you sent him a text, just asking him to call you as soon as he could. Then you shoved your phone onto the coffee table, turned your attention to the TV and continued sipping your wine.

Billy could hear his phone buzzing, and then the ting of a text arriving. But he wasn’t anywhere near his desk right at that moment.

He was currently pinned up against the glass wall in his office by Dinah Madani, who seemed to have shape-shifted into an octopus, complete with all the tentacles. She’d almost managed to wrap herself around him, pushing her body against his. He was trying to grab her hands but she kept managing to pull them out of his grip. He was starting to get angry, yelling her name and “What the fuck!” in her face, but she was totally ignoring him - it was like she’d gone feral. He was trying his best not to use his full strength against her, but he was about two seconds away from completely losing his temper.

She managed to get her mouth onto his at one point while he was busy trying to grab her hands, but he twisted his head away. His shirt was hanging half-open, mostly untucked from his trousers, tie loose and pulled askew round his neck, then he felt her hand against his stomach, fumbling for his trouser button. A moment later, she’d managed to get it undone and began pulling his zip down, trying to slip her fingers inside the top of his boxer briefs. That was it for Billy, he was seriously not into this. He bared his teeth in a snarl and grabbed her wrist, twisting it up and around quite viciously into an armlock.

Grasping her other hand, which had been inside his shirt stroking his chest, he shoved her away from him and she lost her balance, tumbling onto her ass on the floor. Billy still stood against the window, getting his breath back and his temper in check, then he walked round her and into his en-suite.

He stripped off his wrecked shirt and dumped it on the floor, grabbing an Anvil hoodie from a drawer in the unit next to the sink and pulling it on over his head. He exchanged his trousers and shoes for tracksuit bottoms and trainers, took a deep breath and walked back out into the main office.

Madani was sitting on one of the chairs, head in hands, her fingers carding through her hair. She looked up and glared at him as she heard him walk through, but didn’t say anything. Billy had something to say though.

“I can’t believe what you just did, Dinah!!! What the fuck is wrong with you? If it was the other way round, you’d slap me with a sexual harassment charge so fast I’d get a nosebleed!”

Her eyes teared up, but she blinked them back fiercely. “What is wrong with me? Ask yourself the same question! You lead me on, make me think it was going somewhere, then drop me like a hot potato the minute you meet your little coffee queen? And now you’ve humiliated me. You’re such a bastard, Russo!”

He perched on the edge of his desk, looking over at her, “I humiliated you? How? - cos I wouldn’t fuck you when you just threw yourself at me?” He folded his arms over his chest.

“And I already apologised for maybe sending mixed messages. But you also carry some of the blame, Dinah, you assumed things based on a couple of lunches and a drink one night in a bar.” “And a kiss after that drink!” she bit back at him. He scoffed, “Fuck! Are you in junior high or somethin’?” Putting on a high-pitched voice, “He kissed me, mommy, so now we’re gettin’ married!”

He continued, back to his normal voice, “You’re being ridiculous and you know it. Listen, I’ll forget this whole thing ever happened if you get your damn head back on straight and focus your attention back onto the fucking case, instead of what I got inside my trousers!”

She stood up, “Fuck you, Russo! You know what, yes! Let’s get this case closed, then I won’t have to see your sorry ass ever again!” Looking around for her bag, she grabbed it off the floor and headed to the door. Billy, meanwhile, chuckled, “Now, Dinah... you’ve never seen my ass.”

She flipped him the finger with real feeling, and left.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was driving over to her place, and he dropped her a text saying he was nearly there. He hadn’t called her back, because he wanted to tell her face-to-face about what happened earlier with Dinah. It wasn’t something you talked about on the phone. He still couldn’t quite get his head round how desperate Madani had been, clawing at his clothes and her hands and mouth all over him. Now he guessed he knew what it felt like to be treated like a piece of meat, and at least had the decency to feel some personal guilt.

It was pretty much how he’d treated women all his life, if he was being honest. He wondered if not having a mother around, someone who would’ve loved and nurtured and cared for him, had contributed to his “fuck ‘em and leave ‘em” attitude to women. Who knew?

He sighed, knowing his girl was going to be really fucked off when he told her about it, and he only hoped that - coming so soon after the lunch date thing - she believed him when he said he’d shut her down as quickly as he could. Should he stop and buy her some flowers or something? Nah. That might just make him look guilty.

As he drove, the thought came unbidden into his mind that the Dinah thing was something that Previous Billy Russo would’ve just sat back and let happen. And enjoyed it. He started quietly laughing at himself, shit... he was screwed.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d just poured yourself another glass of wine when your phone chimed.

Picking it up, you saw it was a text from Billy... “Nearly at your place, angel. Any food going? ;) 😘”

You laughed, he really was a cheeky big devil. But, nah, no home cooking tonight Russo, you thought, I’m too frazzled after today. So you grabbed a menu from your local Thai and called them with an order of two portions of green curry, fragrant rice and some sides to be delivered in about twenty minutes.

Opening the door to Billy a few minutes later, you grabbed him into a bear hug and just rested your head on his chest. Not that he wasn’t enjoying it, but Billy knew this wasn’t ‘you’. You’d told him you didn’t ever want to be seen as ‘too clingy’ with your men. He’d told you at the time that you could cling to any part of his body you wanted to, for as long as you wanted to.

Taking hold of your arms, he gently moved you back so he could see you properly, “Hey, hey... you OK, angel?” You gulped a bit and nodded, then headed away to get a wine glass for him. Now he was here, you actually felt quite weepy, but you weren’t about to start blubbering like a big adult baby in front of him.

Billy closed your apartment door behind him, and followed you to the kitchen area. You saw him looking past you at the cooker and you laughed, instantly cheered up. “Sorry, Billy. No food, couldn’t be bothered.” His ‘disappointed puppy’ face was something to see. You poured him some wine, “Don’t worry darling, some Thai is on its way to us, should be here in about 15.” “Thank fuck for that, sweetheart, I’m absolutely starvin’!” he smiled down at you. Handing him the glass, you moved back to the sofa, collapsing onto it with a sigh.

Billy joined you, putting his glass on the coffee table and reaching down to take his trainers and socks off. He swung his legs up and his bare feet landed in your lap. You started tugging at his toes a little, and he picked his wine glass back up and took a sip. “Mmhm, that is a good red wine. And that,” he wiggled his toes against your fingers as you stroked them, “...is heavenly.” “It’s all the nerve endings. There’s so many of them in your feet.” He nodded, smirking, “But not as many as in another part of me.”

You laughed, untangling your fingers from his toes and reaching over to run them through his hair, “Food first, tiger.” He laid his hand over yours as you rested it on the back of his neck, sighing, “Yeah, okayyy... I won’t argue with you about it this time.”

Your buzzer sounded just then, and you collected the food from the delivery guy, then took it all over to the coffee table. Picking up cutlery and napkins from the kitchen, you and Billy proceeded to demolish the delicious Thai meal and then both collapsed back against the sofa. “That was...” Billy groaned and stretched, “...wonderful.” He reached for you, pulling you against him, kissing you lazily, softly. “Mmm. You know you didn’t kiss me when I got here? But I’ll let you off,” he smiled at you, but the smile faded almost immediately . He suddenly sat up, as if he was going to make a break for the door.

You felt a bit spooked by this - you’d just decided that second you were going to tell him about your ‘stalker’ - and it was almost as if he’d guessed you had something uncomfortable to say.

Looking across at him, you cleared your throat, feeling nervous for some reason. You noticed Billy had the same nervous look on his face you were sure you had on yours.

“Billy...” he was staring at you, “Madani came to the café today. Twice in fact.” His mouth dropped. You carried on quickly, “The first time she just had a coffee and left. In fact I wasn’t even 100% sure it was her. It was though, she came back later under the pretence of interviewing me to find out how us knowing each other would ‘impact’ her case.” You reached over and took his hand, he was still staring at you, amazed look on his face. “Then she just couldn’t help herself, she told me you two were seeing each other - dating, she said!”

He was shaking his head, “Nuh-uh, no! We were never....” You interrupted him, “I know. Look, Billy, I set her straight. Told her that was before you met me, and... and all that stuff with her was in the past.” A small grin appeared on his face, and you continued, “I hope I wasn’t out of line saying that.” He stroked your hand, “You definitely weren’t.” “But I didn’t tell her why you’d been... so friendly... with her. She wasn’t happy, Billy, like really not happy. Stormed off without saying another word.”

Billy was nodding to himself, “All makes sense now.” He looked over at you, eyes wide, “Got a visit from her too, must’ve been after she’d been to see you.” He took a deep breath, “Look, you’re not gonna like this, but please just hear me out.”

Your stomach dropped, you really didn’t like where this was heading. What had that crazy woman got up to with Billy?

“She came to Anvil, and... and, well she basically jumped me. Just walked in, didn’t say a word, tryin’ to get my clothes off, hands everywhere. I tried to grab her hands but didn’t wanna go over the top.” You were still holding hands, and he intertwined his fingers with yours, gazing deep into your eyes. “She went for my zip and that was it, got her in an armlock and threw her off me. She fell over on her ass.”

He was surprised when you burst out laughing. That was a much better reaction than he’d been expecting. “Oh I’d’ve paid good money to see that,” you said, trying to catch your breath, “Billy, I think she’s lost it. Gone a bit nuts with jealousy over you. Your male ego must be totally preening right now.” He smirked, but then got serious again. “No, actually it’s not... it’s just made me feel guilty. About how I had a “one and done” approach with women up till now. Got a dose of my own medicine, angel.”

“Treating people like sex objects, you mean? I’m sure most of us have done that at some point. Maybe you more than most,” you shrugged. “But have you turned over a new leaf, Billy Russo?” you asked, hand going to his bristly cheek. He nodded slowly, “ Yes I have, ma’am. Ever since I met you,” leaning in and kissing you. Your arms went round his neck, and you kissed him back hard. He whispered, “I was really afraid to tell you about it. Thought you wouldn’t believe me.”

You whispered back, “I don’t really know why, but I trust you, Billy. Don’t make me regret it.” “I promise you I won’t.”

You slid your hands under the hem of his hoodie, “Moving right along, Russo... I hope you don’t mind if I treat you like a sex object for the rest of the night.” His eyes twinkled at you as he said, “Oh, well, gee I might need to get my union rep involved.”

You slid your hands further up his chest, and reached up to kiss that sensual mouth of his. Then you sat up and took your bra off from under your t-shirt, dropping it on the floor before climbing onto him. You shimmied your leggings down your thighs slightly, and rubbed your body along his. Bill’s eyes were as wide as the moon, watching to see what you were going to do to him.

One of your hands went to the waistband of his tracksuit but then you paused, “D’you want me to stop, Billy?” Despite your earlier joke, you were aware that Madani had just invaded his personal space and not in a good way. His dark chocolate eyes were gazing into yours, and shaking his head he stuttered, “N-no.”

So your hand continued its journey southward underneath his boxer briefs, and soon it was happily wrapped around his velvety length. He gave a deep groan, one hand going to your hip, the other to your clit. You really weren’t in the mood for foreplay. After the events of the day you just wanted to feel Billy inside you, making you feel good and driving away any remaining thoughts or insecurities you might have about Madani.

The fact that you both still had your clothes on was exciting you as it made it seem like you two were having an illicit encounter. You pushed Billy’s tracksuit and briefs down to mid-thigh, revealing him in all his glory. Knowing you were more than ready for him, you gave him a couple of firm strokes and then guided his cock between your legs and put his tip straight inside you.

Billy gave a surprised gasp, but then thrust up into you as you rode him. “Uhh...” he groaned, then managed to say, “...no condom.” “Fuck it,” you whispered back, “...it’s fine, don’t worry.” You loved the view you had of him, hair in disarray where you’d been running one hand through it and those dark eyes of his on you, always on you. You felt him deep inside you and clenched around him, making his eyes close in pleasure and a long low groan escape his lips. His hand gripped your hip, his other hand massaging your breast and palming your nipple, making you gasp.

You stepped up your pace, riding him like you were about to ride off into the sunset. He was making a lot of noise you noticed, crying out and groaning, almost whimpering, so you leant over and whispered “Puppy” into his ear. As expected he laughed but then smacked your behind, quite hard, making you yell “Ow!!!” You gripped him extra firmly in retaliation and he howled, “Okay, okay, I surrender! I can’t last much longer anyhow....” and he did come shortly after that, huffing out a big breath, fingers digging into your hips and his own thrusting up to meet yours. He then made sure you climaxed, staying inside you, stroking your pussy before moving his thumb to your clit and pleasuring you until you came.

You lay in each other’s arms, in that post-sex blissful state. Billy’s nose was buried in your hair as it lay against your shoulder, and you could feel him rubbing it back and forward, tangling up in your hair and gliding across your skin too.

You heard a massive sigh, his chest rising and falling. “Billy?” you murmured, “You OK?” He sat up a bit and propped his head up on his elbow, gazing at you. He gave a quiet laugh, “No, I’m not. In fact, I’m really fucked.” You sat up too. “Well, yes so am I, if you recall!” you laughed. Reaching out, you stroked the hair on his chest, between his pecs.

“But, seriously, what d’you mean, Billy?”

His eyes looked huge as he gazed at you, “I, uh... think I’ve fallen in love with you.” He stroked your cheek, “And it scares the shit out of me.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Additional A/N: In case you hadn’t guessed, this my imaginary ‘Real Love for Russo’ AU ☺️

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine

[blessednereid]

LFLLLL Prologue: Miscommunicated Arguments

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

WC: 4.5k

Taglist: @rogershoe

~

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗     The Kiss(One Week Later) ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝ ╭╼|══════════|╾╮    Isaac ╰╼|══════════|╾╯

'I don't.'

Those words rang like a siren in Isaac's head for the rest of the day.

He knew. he had already assured himself of it, but he didn't think it was definite until then. He wasn't sure that it wasn't just him being a pessimist until then.

He showed up at your house the next day, but the words still weighed on him like an anvil.

As he laid in your lap and allowed you to play gently with his hair, he couldn't help but imagine a reality where your feelings were different. Where his feelings were reciprocated.

"Isaac?" He heard a voice call out from above him.

"Yeah."

"Isaac, did I say something wrong?"

He wanted to tell you the truth, but that would require revealing his feelings which he preferred not to do.

"No, I'm just having an off day."

"I don't know. I feel like I did something wrong, and you're walking on eggshells around me…"

He shook his head as you continued. "-And it kind of sucks."

"I promise you, you did nothing wrong."

"Then why do I feel like-" You paused and sighed. After that, Isaac's two lips were met with yours. They moved slowly against Isaac's, and it wasn't like he had imagined it. It was better.

Isaac pulled away. He felt confused, he felt angry, he felt sadness more than happiness. He felt used.

"Y/n, you can't- I- I gotta go." He ran out of the room before he heard anything the young girl said.

He was confused. He had heard you say to both your dad and Stiles that you didn't like him. He pondered on the idea that you could've been lying before deciding against it.

He walked home, transfixed in his thoughts. When he got to his bed, he tried to do his homework that he was assigned that day, but the encounter with you left his head in a whirl.

╭╼|══════════|╾╮      You ╰╼|══════════|╾╯

You laid there on your bed, staring out of your door and waiting for Isaac to come back.

When you'd sat there for 5 minutes, and no one walked through t was when the intrusive thoughts started.

'You blew it,' they said.

'You shouldn't have done that,' they hollered.

'You already knew he didn't like you. Why did you bother?'

You couldn't call Lydia. She was out with a guy. Ironically, she would drop everything to get you out of a rut, but you didn't want to bother her.

You thought of talking to Stiles, but you knew the first thing he would say would be 'I knew it,' or 'I told you so,' which wasn't what you needed at the moment.

You laid on your bed, scrolling through numerous social media feeds on your phone. The movie you and Isaac were watching became background noise in the wind.

You tried calling Isaac to explain what happened, but it went straight to voicemail. Every text you sent him was left on 'Delivered,' and you knew he was ignoring you.

You walked over to Stiles' room and knocked on his door.

"Stiles," you sniffled as you knocked.

He opened the door with a concerned face. "What's wrong, baby sis?"

You chuckled. "I'm the older one, Sti.

You paused for a breath. "Stiles, I messed up."

He squinted in confusion but allowed you to explain.

"I kissed him…"

"Isaac?" You nodded.

"And he didn't like me back." You fell into his arms, and he wrapped a hand around your back and placed the other on your head.

He pulled you into the room to sit on his bed.  

"What do you mean he didn't like you back?"

"He ran out the house, and now he's ignoring me…"

He sighed and clenched his fists.

"Y/n, listen to me. He does like you."

"No, he doesn't," you argued. "If he did, he wouldn't have run out."

He winced with frustration. "He told me himself, he likes you."

You sniffed. "He did?"

"Well… not exactly." You raised your eyebrow. "He didn't say a name."

"You were gonna get my hopes up on a maybe?" you cackled. "Stiles, he probably likes someone else."

"Why would he come to me then?"

Another raised eyebrow from you was what he garnered at that.

"Isaac came to me for advice about a girl he liked. It was obviously you since I'm your brother, and I know you best."

"What did he ask exactly, Stiles?"

He squinted as if to remember before speaking. "Oh, he wanted to know how to get rid of feelings for a girl he liked… oh."

Your face fell at his words. "That doesn't sound like he wanted to like me, Stiles. Which probably means he doesn't like me!"

You started crying, and Stiles wrapped his arms around you. You fell asleep within a few minutes but had no dreams, happy or otherwise.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗  School: Confessions ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

When you arrived at school the next day, you told Lydia about your issue. However, you didn't tell her (she figured out anyways by Isaac's reaction) that you didn't follow her plan.

"I'm not like you, Lydia. I can't just do things like that without clamming up. And you know what happens when I clam up."

She sighed, and you both walked to class without talking. You had Mrs. Goldblatt first, so you could speak to Isaac when you got in the class.

But, things never go the way you plan, do they?

When you walked in, Isaac was in another seat, three people in front of you, and Madison Zabka was in his place. She clearly was as fond of the swap as you were as she was glancing menacingly at the back of his head with a scowl on her face.

You paused to look at him, and Lydia stopped too before realizing why. He wouldn't meet your eyes, much like when you two were first partnered together.

You didn't want to call attention to him, but you pleaded with your eyes for him to look at you. When, after a minute or two, he hadn't moved his sight, you went to your seat.

You and Lydia made modifications to your class seating arrangements so that you could sit together. Madeline Zabka moved with her sister, and Danny moved to sit next to Isaac so that you could sit with Lydia.

When your teacher walked into the room, she did a once-over of all the students and seating placements.

"Get. In Your. Chairs… NOW!" She said each word with force, which made you all dash to get in your seats. Of course, you all ended up back in the same seatings you self-assigned by making her think you moved.

"I wasn't born last night. You have five seconds to get in your chairs!"

This time, you all got out of your seats and went back to your assigned arrangements.

You tapped on Isaac's arm once. Twice. Three times. He still wouldn't respond to you.

"If you would just talk to me, I could know what I did and apologize."

Isaac remained silent as Mrs. Goldblatt demonstrated the lesson.

When the bell rang, you ran out of the classroom before Isaac could even pack all his stuff and hid in the nearest broom closet.

You waited to see Isaac pass by you in the hall to pull him into the small room.

His eyes met yours for half a second and then darted to the ceiling.

"I'm not letting you leave until you talk to me." He remained silent.

"We've played this game before, Isaac. It's not fun anymore."

You sighed. "Since you won't talk, I will. I really like you. And as much as I tried to keep our friendship the same way, I can't look at you and not want something more."

You now had his attention.

"I don't know what made me kiss you in that specific moment, but I know it's all I've wanted to do for over a week." You thought about what you said before continuing. "Which is not that much of a long time, but to me, it was, so..."

You thought the last part would make him chuckle, but it just seemed to make him even angrier.

"Y/n, I don't know what you thought this 'explanation' would do, but the bell already rang, and I'm late for class. So, can I go, please? Because, last I checked, you can't get me an excuse that my teacher will accept for why I'm late."

You frowned at his words, but he didn't take notice as he pushed past you and into the hallway.

╭╼|══════════|╾╮    Isaac ╰╼|══════════|╾╯

When Isaac reached his classroom, he apologized to his teacher for being tardy and sat next to Dillon.

"Hey, man."

"Dillon, I need a distraction."

Dillon squinted. "A what?"

"A girl that I can hang out with who, 1. Won't end up liking me because 2. I can't end up getting feelings for her," Isaac said, quite plainly as if it was the most normal thing ever.

"That is the most fucked up thing you have ever said to me!"

Isaac sighed. "Look, I just need to get over Y/n."

"What? Didn't you say she kissed you? What happened?"

"I don't know, she pulled me into this closet, and… the shit she said just made me feel like it's all a prank."

"Oh my god, Isaac! How do you know?"

He scoffed. "How do you know, Dillon? How do you know that I'm not going to put my heart out there to that-" He wanted to say goddess but didn't want to come off too strongly. "-to Y/n, and then it ends up being a prank?"

"Whatever, I know this girl. She needs a tutor, and she has a boyfriend so, she won't end up falling for you."

"Good."

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗       Library(One Week Later) ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

╭╼|══════════|╾╮    You ╰╼|══════════|╾╯

You and Lydia were walking down the aisles of the library. You were supposed to find a book with words that you didn't know, write down all of their meanings and write a summary using those words. Though, between Lydia's genius mind and Stiles' spouts of random knowledge at dinner, there weren't many words in a high school library that you and Lydia didn't know.

"Yeah, Lyds, did you hear what Gracie was saying about you?"

"No," she said simply. "And, I don't really care. I do care about you and Isaac, though. You haven't updated me on that."

You rolled your eyes. "That's because there isn't anything to update on."

She pursed her lips. "Of course there is," she said. "As long as you two are alive, there should be something to update on, babe."

"Well, there isn't because he ghosted me." You had been sulking for the past week because of your abandonment. You still hadn't figured out what you did that made Isaac so angry to make him ignore you.

"So, how are you getting over it?"

"I'm not."

She rolled her eyes this time. "Well, I'll get my own info, ‘cause there he is."

"What?"

You and Lydia peered slightly over the hidden protection of the shelf to look at the scene. Isaac was sitting at a table in the library with none other than Gracie Cooper.

"Oh, that dog."

They were giggling, but the books that were splayed across the table made it look like they were studying.

"I'm being… replaced?"

"Technically, he was never yours, babes."

You scoffed. "I mean as a study partner, Lydia!"

"Were you guys really doing much studying?"

"LYDIA!" you exclaimed, and Lydia shushed you before you got caught.

"Move back one aisle and forwards, I wanna hear!"

You did what she said and moved back to the first aisle that they couldn't see you from and closer towards the studying pair.

"Thanks again for helping me, Isaac!"

"It was really no problem, Grace. I needed this about as much as you."

The mousy girl squinted. "To...tutor someone?"

He laughed. "Something like that."

"So have you tutored anyone before?"

"No."

"Wow! You seem so good at this… study partner?"

"Not any I want to talk about."

His statement made you frown, but it completely offended Lydia, even though she wasn't who he was talking about.

"Rude!" she uttered.

"Lyds, let's just get out of here."

"No, I wanna- Oh, shit!"

You turned to where she was looking and saw Gracie and Isaac ‘sucking each other's faces off' as Lydia would put it. Isaac was putting more passion into the kiss than you'd ever seen him give for anything. Your heart shattered but, you weren't going to let it get you down.

"Lydia, know how I said I wasn't getting over it?"

She turned to you and uncrossed her arms. "Yeah."

"Fuck that. Do you have an ex-hookup you can set me up with?"

She gasped. "Y/n, you've never wanted me to do that before!"

"Drastic times call for drastic measures."

"Yay! I have the perfect person for you. But I need to ask. Are you doing this to move on, or are you doing this so that Isaac isn't the only one kissing other people?"  She had a look of sincerity on her face, and you could tell she didn't want you getting hurt.

"Doesn't Gracie have a boyfriend?"

"Yes, but don't avoid the question."

"Maybe both. Lydia, I just need a distraction.

╭╼|══════════|╾╮    Isaac ╰╼|══════════|╾╯

Gracie kissed Isaac, and he didn't know how to process it. All he could think about during the kiss was you, like a do-over. But it wasn't you. It was Gracie. And from that, he knew that he still liked you and couldn't continue to lead the girl on.

"Look, Gracie," he said while watching her face fall.

"I'm really sorry about this, but I'm not interested in relationships at the moment."

She smirked. "Oh, I know. But, Y/n is always the talk of the school no matter what, and everyone knows how she set her eyes on you before realizing you were not worth it-"

"Wait, what?"

"And, how better to show her you're doing fine than to start dating her ‘rival' as she would say."

Isaac frowned. "I don't know."

"C'mon, I know for a fact that she was jealous of that little show you put on."

Isaac decided to play into her game for a little while. "How?"

"The look on her face right now," she leered. "Don't look."

Isaac did as she said and resisted the urge to look, but now he was more aware of the eyes piercing into the back of his head.

He collected himself before continuing. "Gracie, this is… nice of you and all, but don't you have a boyfriend?"

"Expendable," she stated simply.

Isaac began packing up his books. "Thanks, I mean, you're a great girl, but no thanks, sorry."

Isaac wasn't really sorry. He would've felt worse if he'd thought the girl actually liked him, but it was a power play for her, and he didn't like being used.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗     Russo's Italian Restaurant ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

╭╼|══════════|╾╮    You ╰╼|══════════|╾╯

You were dressed in a maroon velvet strapless dress that reached past your mid-thigh and accentuated your natural assets. You paired it with black wedges that made you just an inch or two taller and a black handbag to finish the look.

Earlier, there had been a debacle with your dad about your outfit, and he told you to go change when your date was already at the front door.

"So, Brett…" He flashed a toothy grin, but you felt out of place.

"What made you want to go out with me?"

"Well, Lydia called and said that you were looking for a date, and I always thought you were pretty," he said while still flashing his grin.

"But, do you even know me?"

"No… but that's the point of a date, right?"

He was right. And it made you realize you were only holding back because you weren't ready to let Isaac go.

"Okay, Mr. Talbot. Entice me. What do you do for fun?"

He chuckled, and you admired his mirth. "Funny, you ask. I play lacrosse for Devenford Prep. In fact, last year… You thought I fouled a kid, and you said," he paused before continuing in a quieter voice. "‘Ref! That was a foul, you freaking cheat!' I've never heard anyone kiddie swear so passionately."

You rolled your eyes. "I did do that, didn't I?"

Once you both calmed down from chuckling, Brett fired away his question.

"So, how did you, a freshman, become captain of the cheerleading team?"

You sighed proudly at the memory. "Lydia and I were sick of the lack of girls' extracurriculars. And, before you say that girls can play lacrosse and guys can do cheer- I know. But I'm talking about sports that are targeted to the feminine demographic."

He chuckled but allowed you to finish.

"So we marched to the Principal's office and asked if he would let us start our own cheerleading club. I talked to my dad, and he put a word in that coaching high school sports teams is a volunteering activity for college credit. So we got a coach from a local gym, and here we are."

He awed at your statement, which made you smile as well. "Anyone ever told you that you have a pretty smile, Brett?"

"Only everyone to ever see it," he smirked.

"Did they tell you that you're a smug ass too?"

You both burst out laughing before a waiter came to get your drinks.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗   Stilinski Front Porch ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Haha! Thanks, Brett. I had a fun time tonight."

He smiled before removing his hand from the small of your back and turning to face you.

"I had fun too."

You both leaned in for a kiss, and while you thought for a second that your dad was going to open the door to interrupt, it ended up being Stiles.

You and your date sighed before saying your goodbyes and leaving you to walk in the house.

"You're welcome."

You scowled. "For what? You ruined my kiss?"

"Okay. A. You don't need a kiss after every date. It's a movie cliche. And, B. I saved you from kissing a guy you don't really want to kiss."

You raised a brow, prompting Stiles to elaborate.

"You want to kiss Isaac. Isaac doesn't want to kiss you. Isaac kisses another girl. You get revenge by going out with Brett Talbot, fully knowing that it'll be all over Cyclones Shade Room by tomorrow," he said while making vomit faces at both of their names.  

"Okay, Okay! You've figured out my master plan, Stiles. Except! I actually like Brett," you protested.

"But not the way you liked Isaac?"

You groaned and tilted your head back. "Stiles, STOP! I just want to move on. Yes, I liked Isaac. But he doesn't like me, and I'm not going to wait for him to start."

You ran up the stairs before Stiles got another word in and crawled in bed. After changing your clothes, of course.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗ School: Confrontation ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Stiles dropped you off in front of the school building on Monday before going off to find Scott.

When you walked in, all that anyone was talking about was your date with Brett on Saturday.

'They would be a real power couple,' they said. 'They look so good together,' they murmured. 'I don't know who I'm jealous of,' they whispered.

You tried to ignore all the lingering gazes and hushed words as you walked through the hallway towards your locker that bordered Lydia's.

"Hey, Lyds."

She smirked before turning to you. "Don't look, but Lahey is totally giving you look 5."

You wanted to ask what it was, but she beat you to it. "The jealousy look, babes."

"Oh, I don't care."

Lydia frowned. "What do you mean? I thought this was for revenge."

"No, Lydia. It was for me to move on. And I'm doing that."

"I don't think he wants you to. He's coming over here."

"Well then, I have to be over there," you said before turning to walk towards your first class. Granted, it was with Isaac. However, the first quarter was over, so you and Lydia were free to sit together and away from Isaac.

╭╼|══════════|╾╮    Both ╰╼|══════════|╾╯

Isaac got to class and saw that you weren't in your assigned seat. He looked around and saw you sat with Lydia before he realized you were avoiding him.

He had heard all the rumors about your date with Brett Talbot, and he felt… replaced. Which was weird because he was the one who tried to get rid of his feelings for you, and then ignoring you when you reciprocate those feelings, and then trying to replace you.

He knew he shouldn't be angry about you moving on when he ignored you for over two weeks, but there was something about the entire thing that felt wrong to him.

That should be him with you in that picture. It should be him having dinner with you at Italian restaurants and being constantly reminded by your dad to bring you home on time. He wanted to have that with you. To him, Brett was living Isaac's vivid daydreams, and he was going to do something about it.

Around lunch, Isaac did the most ballsy thing he's ever done. One that he could probably get expelled for.

He went up to the front office and told the attendant that there was a Postmate's order for you at the front office.

The attendant called you to the front office, and while you were awaiting your dad's face, you were met with Isaac's.

You scoffed at the sight before turning around to go back to the cafeteria.

"Y/n, wait!"

You simply clenched your jaw and kept walking.

"Ethan and Sarah!"

You skidded as you stopped, took a breath, and turned around.

"What?"

"Ethan and Sarah. The one who embraces how they feel for the other. And then, there's the one who still is confused about their feelings for the other person.

"But they both have special powers when they're together- Look. I don't know where I was going with that analogy, but I got your attention," he said before walking to you. He grabbed your hands the same way you did to his at the carnival.

"I was an idiot. I am an idiot. I don't know why I did what I did, but I'm sorry-"

You cut him off. "Isaac, you're only saying this now that I'm moving on. Did you just expect me to wait for you to get your shit together?"

"No, but… Seeing that you're actually moving on made me realize I'm not ready to let you go. I don't want to lose you."

"What about what I want?" you scolded. "You basically abandoned me and didn't give me a reason why. And what about Gracie Cooper?"

"I've seen what losing people you love can do to you personally, and since my mom died, I never wanted to put myself in a position where that could happen to me. And Gracie kissed me. I don't like her the way I like you."

You sniffled. "You could've told me that. And even so, if that's the case, why are you here now?"

He gave a small smile before he spoke. "Because I'm in love with you?"

You shook your head and groaned. "You don't get to do this, Isaac. You haven't spoken to me for close to a month. I thought you were my friend-"

"I am!"

"Friends don't do what you did. I kissed you, and you made me feel like I gave you the plague."

He bowed his head. "I wasn't ready to accept my feelings. Especially when you kissed me after I'd just heard you tell your dad that you didn't like me. I thought it was just a big joke."

You closed your eyes firmly to keep from screaming at him.

"I only have two things to say to that.

"1. Did you ever stop to think maybe I wasn't ready to accept it either, and that's why I told my dad that? Did you stop to think that I didn't want to ruin our friendship on a 'maybe,' so I shoved my own feelings aside?"

That sent a pang to Isaac's chest, but you weren't done with your rant.

"2. I shared things with you that I haven't shared with some of my closest friends. I talked to you about my mom. I showed you that my favorite shows to watch are on Disney Channel. I let myself be vulnerable around you. If you think I would kiss you as a joke, you never knew me, Isaac."

He looked down at your conjoined hands. "You didn't pull away. You never do. Unlike me. It's one of the things I love about you. The only thing is, I don't want to pull away anymore, Y/n."

You tilted your head to analyze his expression, and you saw genuine honesty and… fear(?) in his face.

He avoided eye contact with you, but you saw that his eyes were widened, and his pupils were dilated.

"If you break my heart, Lahey...Stiles, Lydia, and I'll each break different limbs on your body." He chuckled at your statement before leaning in towards your face.

You pulled away.

"Too soon?"

"No, not at all," you said before leaning towards him to peck his lips.

"I was just getting the do-over for my first kiss."

His eyes widened in shock. "What? I was-" You nodded.

"I'm so-"

"As I said, break my heart, and I'll hurt you."

He leaned in and kissed you once more before pulling away to walk to the cafeteria.

"Where are you going?"

He grinned. "Lunch, I'm hungry."

"Speaking of, you better buy me lunch since you made me miss half of it."

You both chuckled before walking to the cafeteria.

You told Lydia to explain to Brett that you couldn't continue going out with him, which he understood, and offered to remain friends.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗                 Present Day ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

You could see why Lydia was mad. You were angry when it happened, and Lydia, who has known you and been there for you for over 7 years, surely would be as well.

She wasn't hating on the fact that you were happy. She was truly happy for you, but she also wanted to protect you. Even if he had made amends, Isaac had hurt you. Lydia had always been the one to stand by you no matter what.

So, you could see why she acted the way that she did. You realized that she felt as though she was being replaced by someone who had hurt you. And while you rushed to defend Isaac, you had been ruining your relationship with your best friend, and you didn't even care at that moment.

You had to make things right. But first, you had to get through this dinner.

~

#Love lost lovelorn love found #isaaclahey #isaac lahey #isaac lahey imagine #isaac x reader #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey fluff #isaac lahey smut #isaac lahey angst #isaac lahey x y/n #isaac lahey x you #isaac lahey x oc #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski angst #teenwolf #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf y/n series

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU Pt. 6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

---

tw: general howard stark warning

---

There is a buzzing by his ear.

At first, Tony doesn’t really notice it, waking up in short increments before being pulled back under. But he keeps waking, unsure what keeps tugging him out of his dreams, hand flapping around his face as he tries to stop the incessant ringing.

“Blergh,” he mumbles into his pillow.

Batting his hand around to quell the source of annoyance, he comes to grip his phone, squinting as it lights up inches away from his face and vibrates against his palm. For a second he thinks it’s his alarm, but then he remembers that he didn’t set one. It’s a succession of text notifications cascading down his screen that alerts him out of the slope of slumber with a start.

The only time his phone goes off like this is an emergency. The first thing he registers is that it’s only eight-minutes after seven. He blinks, sight clearing from the sleep wedged in his eye as he reads the flurry of still-incoming texts.

> so thanks for last night > yknow > for the ride > i mean > you know what i mean > anyway > so that folder i gave you had my BIO notes, not econ > im such a doofus > i need them back > don’t bother looking at them lol > can we meet up?

Tony groans, eyelids heavy as anvils. Jesus christ. He didn’t get home until four after dropping this guy off and he’s already up and bothering him? What gives?

Exhausted and annoyed, he tucks his phone under his pillow and sets it on do-not-disturb for extra measure. There ain’t no way he’s getting up at seven on a Saturday for fucking class notes. Prick.

In his opinion, he’s filled his quote of good deeds for the month and he doesn’t need to be up for another few hours. Whatever it is, he thinks, snuggling into his pillow, he’s sure it can wait.

---

The next time he wakes it’s just after nine. There’s a gap in his curtains allowing a sharp shard of sunlight into the room where it directly pierces into his eyelids. 

He groans tiredly into the drool patch on his pillow, willing sleep to come back to him, turning on his other side, gripping the edges of the quilt and tightening it around himself until he is firmly cocooned within it. It’s nice and warm, and sleep is such a rare commodity to him so it’s novel to bask in its dregs. But there isn’t any more sleep to come he’s quick to realize, giving up after a few minutes and blinking up at the ceiling. 

Nine is practically six. It’s criminal to be up this early.

There’s an unusual flurry of texts on his phone, some from Rhodey, but most of them are from Parker, an endless ladder of increasing franticness. 

Tony tosses his phone to the end of his bed carelessly. 

It’s been literally less than twelve hours since he’s had to deal with the shithead. Surely whatever was lodged up his ass couldn’t possibly be as important as Tony ignoring him. 

Swinging his legs off the bed, he stands and stretches his arms up high, fingers curling. The stretch feels good and he takes a quick sniff of his armpits to gauge if he can forego a shower for the third day in a row. 

The stench is wicked. It’s possible that he’s overdue.

He strips off as he heads towards the adjacent bathroom, naked and nursing a semi.

He can’t help but shudder as his back meets the cold tiles, the intuitive shower head following his body with a mechanical whir, miscalculating its aim and spraying him in the face.

Ah. That will need to be recalibrated, he notes. 

But, he can’t say he really minds, tolerating the spray, even as it hits his mouth like a fire hose. He ducks his head to wet his hair, reaching blindly for the touchpad to dial down the pressure. Once the water is to his liking he reaches down to take himself in hand, leisurely stroking himself.

It’s just a perfunctory part of his morning ritual; he doesn’t really have anyone in mind as he brings himself to full hardness, just the fleeting memory of lips around his cock, the next of a well rounded ass, not feeling particularly creative. 

Okay, so maybe he pictures some big, brown eyes and dark hair he can run his fingers through. And maybe he goes off like a rocket. That’s his business.

Anyway, once he’s out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he inspects his appearance in the mirror. The bruises on his face are still pretty gruesome, deep purple and beginning to yellow around the edges. The cut on his lip seems to be well and truly scabby.

Turning to the side, Tony takes observation of his overall torso region; his stomach is not as defined as he’d like it to be - probably due to his affinity for carbs and sweets, if he’s honest. Between a few fingers he can pinch the skin and pull it a little -- and look, he’s a bit soft around the middle, but he lifts, alright. Maybe he isn’t exactly steel cut like the dudebros on the football team who have made being ripped their life mission, but he has musculature under the adipose.

Is he a little self-conscious about it? Sure. Is he worried about it enough to give up garlic bread and cronuts? No. Especially when he spots a new chest hair nestled comfortably between his pecs.

Probably a bit too proud of himself because of a singular piece of hair, Tony gets dressed in a pair of jeans that have seen better days, speckled with singe marks and thinning at the knees and a singlet, slinging on his leather jacket for the finishing touch. 

He almost forgets the bot.

“Look at you,” he says, to the mangled mess of metal on his desk. Scooping the injured, beeping bot Tony stuffs it into his backpack. “Come here, darling. Shh, you’re okay.”

Peering both ways out of the hall to ensure the coast is clear, he quickly descends the stairs, shushing the bot the whole way.

On the ground floor, he pauses when he hears voices coming from his father’s office. It takes a second to recognise the voices, his father and Stane arguing over one another, loudly, then softly. He tries to listen in, catching somewhat audible hisses about the company finance officer.

Careful to avoid the floorboards that squeak he tiptoes to the kitchen to pocket a few muesli bars and a water bottle from the fridge. 

The voices get progressively louder as he sneaks to the front door, silently saluting their maid as he passes. She waves back at him, offering a sympathetic smile as he goes out the door. 

His heart pounds as he reaches his car, parked around the corner street. 

“Alright, baby,” he grins, revving the engine. “Let’s go.”

---

“The fuck?”

It’s hard to be sure, but perhaps Rhodey doesn’t expect Tony’s unannounced arrival at his front door. Not if the furious scowl and bunny slippers on his feet are anything to go by.

Nonetheless, he slips past the front door, welcoming himself into his friends home, despite the exasperated outcry of for fucks sake Tony, it’s Saturday and it’s not even noon, can’t you call ahead? 

No, he can’t call. Well, actually, he reconsiders, heading down the hall to the basement, his friends footsteps echoing behind him, he probably could, but it wouldn’t make anyone less mad at him, so what’s the point?

Besides, judging by the empty driveway and barren living room, Rhodey’s family is already out, he’s not sure what the issue is.

“The issue is I am tired, man,” his friend complains, following him down the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

“Me too, honeybear, freakin’ exhausted,” Tony mutters, skipping down the stairs. “Go back to bed. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

“Oh sure, and let you solder your fingers together again. Nah. Not taking the fall for that.”

“I’m not going to solder my fingers together. I’m a pro.”

“Unless you need me to remind you of last summer,” Rhodey takes a seat at the workbench, “I suggest you shut up.”

“You’re rude, you know that?” Tony asks, retrieving the bot from his backpack and setting it upon the bench. “I’ll have you know that I’ve learned since then.”

“And yet you still refuse to wear gloves,” his friend sighs, settling heavily upon the adjacent chair. There’s a comfortable quiet between them while Tony works, carefully settling all the pieces onto the table, moving each with care.

It’s hard to miss the weight of observation on the back of his neck, but he lets his friend drink his fill before he’s ready to speak.

“You fuck up something?” He points to the bot.

Tony shakes his head, pressing the solder into the circuit board. “No. Well, yes. The coding is perfect, as usual, but this idiot isn’t any smarter than a Roomba. He’s meant to be smarter.”

“So?

“He is smarter. I dunno, sometimes he messes up,” Tony mumbles, reaching blindly for the bent-nose pliers before Rhodey places it in his hand. “He’s not bad, just dumb. It’s not his fault.”

“And again, what happened? Did you run him over?”

“No, the old man got sick of me playing with ‘toys’. Dumb-dumb here met the wall in a very dramatic fashion. It was an Oscar-worthy performance.”

There’s a sigh from behind him.

“Does that explain your face?”

Tony glances behind him and smirks. 

“You mean my dashing good looks?”

“Tony.”

“Honestly? I got into a fight with a feral racoon that ran off with some old lady’s purse. It nearly cost me an eye, but I saved the day. She called me a hero, gave me some stale crackers from her purse and then gave me her number.”

“Tony.”

“Fine. I was skateboarding. I was in the middle of executing a super complicated kickflip but lost control when an enlarged gutter rat scurried in front of me. I flew headfirst into the gravel. Very embarrassing. That work?”

“Tony.”

“Look, just leave it will ya? God, you’re like a nagging wife. Pick whichever story makes you feel all nice and fuzzy inside.”

Rhodey is suddenly before him, waving something in his face. “Your phone, jackass. Your better half is calling?”

Huh?

Tony blinks, gently setting down the pliers and the chip he’d removed, taking his phone. It vibrates, Your Better Half flashing across the screen. 

“Parker, ugh.” 

He really should have changed the contact name by now, he thinks, swiping to answer.

“Alcoholics Anonymous,” Tony answers by way of greeting. “How may I direct your call?”

“Ha ha, very funny, asshole. So you are awake. I’ve been trying to contact you all morning.”

“I know. I’m beginning to think you actually might have separation issues,” Tony says. “I just got rid of you like eight hours ago.”

“I’m calling about the folder. Didn’t you read my texts?“

“Oh, I read them,” Tony settles back on the stool and continues to work on the main circuit. “See, I was just ignoring you. Hoping you’d take the hint, but I forget subtlety is lost on you.”

“Look, I need my notes. Can we meet up?”

“Right, for Bio,” Tony rolls his eyes. “Can’t it wait until Monday?”

“No. I, uh -- I have a test first period. I need to study for it.”

“Uh-huh. Just remember, the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. You’ll be fine.”

“I take AP Bio, asswipe, I’m aware of that. Can I just get it back, please?”

“You take AP Bio? Was that an admin error or something?” he asks, holding the chip he’d retrieved earlier up to the light to inspect for any damage. 

It looks to be ok. The damage to the bot overall seems to be mostly cosmetic, couple of scratches, a few dents. Nothing that a few replacement panels wont fix. Whatever he hasn’t already got stored here Rhodey will surely have spare parts, it’ll be fine. God, what would he do if his friend didn’t lovingly tolerate Tony using his space for storage and barging in whenever he lucks. It’s lucky Rhode’s parents are so chill though, unlike his own. He may be a hot-head but he’s practically a saint compared to -

“ - hello? Are you still there? I can hear you breathing.”

Tony blinks. “Right. Your notes. Look, I’m kinda busy. I have a life outside of you and I don’t actually care about your academic integrity, so, you’re gonna have to wait.”

“For how long?”

“I’ll drop them off this evening, like six-ish. Hey, maybe we could do that interview with May if she’ll be around.”

“...I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“C’mon, I already told you I’m not actually hot for your aunt. I’ll be professional.”

Rhodey shoots him a bewildered look.

“That’s not what -- look, whatever. Just don’t be late okay. I have a life outside of you too.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. I’ll try and not get in the way of your weekend plans of crying while you masturbate.”

“I literally hate you.”

“And yet you aren’t denying the crying. Anyway, I have to go now, try to clean yourself up before I get there. See you at six, bubby,” he hangs up, cracking his neck before refocusing on his mangled creation. “Now where were we?”

“What the fuck.”

Tony pauses, pliers in hand. There is a particular expression on Rhodey’s face erring on the side of confused and haunted. 

“What?”

“’Bubby’?”

“Don’t say it like that - it’s like an inside thing. Don’t repeat it to him, alright, he’ll get pissy. And then I’ll get pissy.”

“You know it’s just a project, right? You two aren’t actually married.”

“Thank god. Could you imagine being married to that guy?” Tony shudders. “Scary.”

“Two weeks ago you said he was the bane of your existence. Now you have ‘inside things’ with him? You saw him last night?”

He sighs, shoulders dropping. Yeah, he doesn’t really have a good explanation for any of that. 

The thing about himself, Tony’s found over time and trial, is that he really, really likes to press buttons. He likes to test variables, wants to see what would happen if he did something he wasn’t supposed to, and map out the world as it occurs in motion around him. Curiosity means he likes to test the parameters, to see what can yield, what will bite back.

More often than not that kind of impulsive brand of curiosity has gotten him in some sort of trouble. Turns out not everything and everyone appreciates being tested - and many things like to lash out when pressed.  

Parker, Tony has found, is somebody that doesn’t yield or bite. If Tony was a betting man he’d have placed his money on the boy being more of a yielding type - but what he does is he presses buttons just as much as Tony does, buttons he didn’t even know he had to be pressed. 

And that very much interests Tony.

He just doesn’t know what to do with that information, except to keep pressing.

“I’ll explain later,” Tony promises, mentally crossing his fingers. “In the meantime, can we forget about Parker and focus on my broken baby here?”

Rhodey relents, but Tony knows that look in his eye. He’ll be hearing about it later and at the most inconvenient time. And he’s gonna tell Pepper.

Wonderful.

He really should change Peter’s contact name in his phone.

---

By the time he leaves the Rhodes residence and heads to his next destination, his robot is in somewhat in working order again. It remains fairly immobile though, just until Tony can replace the damaged infrared and touch sensor. It clicks its metal claws sadly towards Tony in the passenger seat as he drives.

It’s a Roy Orbison kind of day, so the music is loud and the guitar is heavy as he makes the drive to Harlem.

And if Tony frees a hand to pat the bot on its’ metal head every so often, that’s his business.

When he reaches the other side of the city he parks in his usual space at a nearby lot and contemplates whether or not he should leave the malfunctioning bot in his car for the sake of being professional. It clicks at his jacket, weakly grasping the material as if on a plea - and damn, Tony knows the thing isn’t actually sentient but what kind of asshole would he be if he left it here for the day.

Heart squeezing with sympathy, Tony delicately places him in the backpack, leaving the zip partially open for ‘air’.

Next, snacks.

While he’s retrieving a pack (or two) of Reeses, he comes across Parker’s folder that he’d stashed there last night. Their conversation from earlier returns to the forefront of his mind.

Look, Parker might not be the knuckle-dragging, monosyllabic dumbass Tony initially suspected that he was, and yeah he was savvy as demonstrated during their trip to the rental market - and yeah, definitely smarter than his social circle would suggest, and is absolutely and a source of constant surprise to Tony - but is he AP Bio - or AP anything material? 

Time to find out.

The first thing that Tony notices is that the notes are definitely not for Bio. They’re for Econ, as initially prescribed. 

The second thing he notices, as he flicks through the papers, skimming over the complicated graphs and annotated research, is that what he’s reading is actually good. 

Well, I’ll be darned, Tony thinks, eyes getting progressively wider as he flicks through the pages. Not bad at all.

Makes him wonder why Parker thought he was missing his Bio notes though.

The answer to that becomes clear when a crumpled envelope falls out of the stack onto Tony’s lap. He picks it up, at first thinking it’s a part of the research, but pauses. It’s open and it’s addressed to May Parker.

“Um,” he says.

It’s from Queens Presbyterian Hospital, which should make him drop it as if it were burning. It doesn’t, though. Either it’s meant to be included in the folder, or it’s not and that’s why Parker has been acting like a crazy-ex all morning.

Hmm. Tony sits there, torn, debating whether or not to look into it, the overdue stamp standing out against the crisp paper like a warning sign. On one hand, he’s running kinda late and, y’know, privacy or whatever -- on the other, his fingers are already itching to know what’s in it.

Mind your own business, he can already hear Rhodey saying, mind your own business, Tony.

Curiosity and a distinct lack of a moral compass wins, as always. Just a quick peek, that should be okay, right? The envelope is already open anyway, so, it’s not like anyone will be able to tell.

God, this is none of my business, he tells himself, even as he’s retrieving the letter from within and starts reading it. 

Oh.

Tony quickly stashes the letter back into the envelope and back into the folder. Yep, definitely none of his business. 

Yeah, he really shouldn’t have done that. Big fucking yikes on his behalf. And yep, there’s the guilt -- or at least he thinks the stomach churning is guilt, it could be the stale muesli bar he ate on the way.

Nonetheless, it hangs over him like a dark cloud as he picks up his backpack and heads out to the garage across the road. What kind of asshole looks into someone’s mail because they can’t help themselves. This dick, that’s who.

Fixing a grin he doesn’t really feel, he heads to the back office. He knocks on the window, ducking his head into the open door.

“Yo,” he waves to the man sitting behind the desk. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Hey kid,” the man looks up, smiling before his face drops. “Tony, your face. What happened?”

“This? It’s nothing --”

“-- is that why you couldn’t come to work yesterday? Not that I mind,” the man stands up. “Are you okay? Was it --”

“-- Was it nothing to worry about? Absolutely,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “Just an unfortunate encounter with a wild, feral squirrel in Central Park. I tell you, they’re deceivingly cute, but they’re pests. Totally out of control.”

“Tony.”

“Jarvis,” he interrupts, gesturing to the cars in the garage behind him. “C’mon. Look, let’s get to work, okay? Save the violins for later.”

And by later he means never.

The man sighs, world-weary, looking at him like he knows exactly what he’s thinking. At first he’s certain his boss is going to push the issue, but it must be a day for dodging bullets because he relents.

“Alright, kid. I got a ninety-four Ford sedan back there with your name on it. Busted fan belt, overheated engine. Probably needs a new set of spark plugs while you’re at it.”

With a grateful nod, Tony heads back, locating the vehicle in question. It’s rusted to all hell and probably not worth the cost of repair, but he gets stuck into it anyway, keen for a distraction. He sets his bag and bot down near him while Jarvis blasts Alice Cooper’s Poison.

Tony might not have all the answers to life’s problems, but this is something he knows how to fix.

---

He probably distracts himself a little too well, because by the time he’s wrapped up with the Ford it’s already five-thirty and he’s a mess of engine oil and coolant.

It’s only when Jarvis squeezes his shoulder and points to the clock on the far wall does he realise that he’s lost his sense of time. How the fuck is he supposed to clean up and get all the way from Harlem to Queens at this time of night?

“Ah, crap,” Tony mutters, setting down his socket-wrench in his toolbox. “I’m late.”

“Late for what? You got a hot date or something?” Jarvis asks, stepping back to give him some room as he rushes to the staff bathroom. 

“What, no,” He calls back, running the faucet and pumping soap over his hands. “I gotta go see about a guy.” He struggles to hear his boss over the running water but he doesn’t have time to stop and figure it out. 

“From school?”

“Yes, and a prime pain in my ass,” Tony mutters, drying his hands on his jeans, walking back into the garage. “Anyway, see you Monday, chief?”

His boss nods, passing Tony his earnings for the week in cash. Tony should have known to dash and run because he starts hearing the proverbial violins when Jarvis clamps a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in a way that is more paternal than Tony is comfortable with. 

“You know you can call me, you have my number. You come up and see me and the missus whenever you want.”

Tony fake snores.

“Jarvis.”

“We have a spare room,” he insists, shrugging sheepishly and stepping back. “It’s yours at any time.”

“I see you enough, okay, don’t push it. I’ll see you Monday,” Tony draws him into a one-armed hug and claps him on the back. “Don’t you worry about me.” 

“Don’t make me worry.”

“No promises,” Tony salutes, slinging his backpack on shoulder and walking backwards out of the garage to the street. “Hug the missus for me.”

Jarvis salutes back. 

With that he sprints across the street when there’s a gap in traffic, bot snapping gently at his hair as he runs.

Sweaty and sore, he is full of energy, a sense of accomplishment coursing through his blood, like an afternoon of work can only provide. He should fire off a text, he thinks, as he starts the ignition and heads out onto the road, yeah. Let Parker know he will be late.

And he does genuinely mean to send a message at the next traffic stop, but then Queen starts playing on the radio and Tony isn’t a fool, okay, he turns that up loud.

Next traffic stop, he promises himself.

---

“I’m beginning to think you can’t read the time,” Parker opens the door with a scowl. “You said six.”

Wincing in the hallway, Tony looks at his phone. Six-fifty-nine. It’s not totally his fault, okay. There was a pile up along the way and traffic was a nightmare of  ridiculous proportions. He swears he’s gonna be the first person to invent a commercially viable flying car just for the sake of personally avoiding road congestion.

“Yeah, so. Here’s the thing: I had things to do, okay, priorities --”

“You and your priorities, I swear to god --”

“Here,” Tony cuts him off, passing him his folder, letter neatly inside where it isn’t going to obviously slip out. “Your folder, dumbass.”

Peter grips it, holding it to his chest as he stares at Tony for a moment, before passing it to the nearest flat surface, a weathered and small table that holds their keys.

“Okay, thanks,” Peter nods, smiling grimly, looking behind his shoulder. “Appreciate it. You can go now.”

“So where are the Econ notes,” Tony blurts, wincing as he plays dumb. “I mean, if you had something prepared.”

Peter blinks, surprised. “Oh, uh. Um, It can wait until Monday, can’t it?”

“The assignment is due Wednesday.”

“Right. Um, just give me a sec --”

“Is that Tony?”

May appears behind Peter, smiling brightly. Tony waves, rocking back on his feet. 

“Hey, Missus Parker.”

“Hey there, handsome,” she hip-checks her nephew, joining him in the doorway and glancing between the two. “You didn’t mention we were having company tonight, Pete.”

“He’s not handsome and he’s not staying --”

“-- I was just dropping something off,” he looks to Peter. “And excuse you, the lady has spoken and I have to agree. I am handsome. Some might even say that I’m debonair.”

“And some might say that you’re deplorable.”

“Hmm, I think you mean adorable.”

That prompts a smile out of Peter. He crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his chin up, all haughty.

“Tony Stark, you are many things, but adorable isn’t one of them.”

He leans in, pouting playfully. “Oh come on, Parker. I’m a little cute, aren’t I?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“Uh, let me check,” Peter pauses before smiling sardonically. “Verdicts in - jury says you’re one-hundred-percent despicable. Sorry.”

"I’m sure I could sway the jury.”

“I think you mean you could pay the jury.”

Tony nods, pretending to be serious. “Well, yeah. You know, for consensus.”

Peter licks his lips, shifting closer.

“Consensus is important...”

“...Well, if you two are done,” May says after an extended period of silence, tying her hair back into a ponytail. “We were just about to head out to a Thai place around the corner. Tony, you should join us.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I should go --”

The rest of his words are cut off by a truly monstrous growl of his stomach. He winces, scrunching up his nose sheepishly. He probably should have eaten more than Reeses all afternoon.

“Well, I guess that settles that,” May says, stepping out of the doorway and beckoning Tony in. “Come in. Sorry about the mess.” 

It’s with Peter still staring at him that he reluctantly enters their apartment, brushing past the other boy. It looks the same as it did the other week, mostly tidy and smelling like incense. There’s a sizeable stack of unfolded laundry on the dining table, however, that wasn’t there before. 

Tony’s distracted by a pair of dancing-bulbasaur boxers sticking out of the pile when May leans in close to sniff at his hair. 

“You’ve got something in your hair, honey. Is that paint?”

He runs his fingers through his hair, palm coming back streaked with green. “Oh, uh, radiator fluid,” he explains, holding up his hand. 

“Can I ask what you did to your face?”

“I saved a homeless guy and his beef-sandwich from a pack of rabid, angry dogs. No need to call me a hero.”

May looks at him oddly. “Oh, well, if you say so. Go get yourself washed up and we can head out.”

The burn of Peter’s stare follows him all the way to their bathroom.

---

The meal is less awkward than Tony thought it would be.

Well, for him at least.

Over larb and khao pad they’d gotten through an informal interview with May about her experience as a caregiver with a single income. Not only was it informative for his own future financial independence, but she has been generous enough to speckle in colorful anecdotes of her nephew’s upbringing. Parker’s face has been getting progressively redder all night and it has nothing to do with the spice in his food.

Tony has enjoyed the evening thoroughly.

“ - and of course, we were lucky we hadn’t decided to go cheap on the health insurance. Especially when Pete here broke his wrist at gymnastics when he was eight.”

Tony barely holds back a snort. 

“You did gymnastics, Parker?”

Peter tips his head back to stare at the ceiling and sighs. The flush seems to be creeping down his neck too, Tony observes gleefully. He stuffs a large mouthful of rice in his mouth to mitigate the urge to tease. 

"Yes, he was very good, weren’t you, Pete? So talented, you should see his medals.”

“Stop, please.”

“C’mon, no need to be embarrassed, Pete, you were amazing,” she says. “You’re still a flexible little bug, aren’t you?”

Tony chokes on his rice.

Peter has his eyes squeezed shut and looks like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. 

“May, I’m literally begging you.”

“Uh,” he beats at his chest with his fist, swallowing roughly. “So how long did you do that for?”

“Until I was fourteen.”

“Why’d you quit?”

There’s a very deliberate, weighted pause. May and Peter share a look between them and Tony gets a deeply uncomfortable sense that he’s just stuck his foot in it. Retract, he thinks, already regretting opening his mouth.

“Well,” May clears her throat, her tone light. “After my husband, Pete’s uncle Ben died, we moved away and we had to make some... financial cuts at the time.”

The bite he’s just taken goes to ash in his mouth. God, he really is a big idiot isn’t he. He’d assumed that May never got married to the man in the photos or that they’d just divorced, he didn’t realise that he’d passed - and so recently, too. Welling up with shame, he can’t stop himself from glancing at Peter, who’s staring at the table, lips pursed.

“Oh,” he clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to - I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” May waves her hand dismissively, but her smile is strained. “Anyway, what about you, Tony? You’re severely asthmatic, right? That must have been hard, growing up if you wanted to play sports.”

Tony’s eyes widen.

“Yes, um, so hard. Luckily I’m not really an exercise-y kinda guy. I personally prefer to keep a heart rate below eighty beats per minute.”

“Did you have any hobbies growing up?”

“Yeah, driving my parents crazy,” Tony says, glad for the shift from the somber topic. “Escaping from nannies, seeing how quickly I could get them to quit.”

“You like tinkering,” Peter says quietly, looking up. “You mentioned, before. Cars and stuff.”

He shrugs, starting to feel as if he’s under the microscope, especially when Peter looks at him, eyes glittering with thinly-veiled interest. 

“I mean, I don’t know. I like - building stuff, I guess. Machines and robots, y’know, cars. It’s like, whatever.”

“You want to be the next Elon Musk or somethin’?” Peter asks, not unkindly, resting his chin on his hand.

“Nah, I wanna be the first Tony Stark,” he scratches his cheek, suddenly bashful. It’s an uncommon feeling for him. One hard to avoid, however, particularly when there is a boy who Tony doesn’t really hate who’s asking about his life like it might matter. 

He clears his throat. “Anyway, mostly it was just me cataloguing all the ways I could make the vein in my fathers’ head pop. I’m still working on that.”

May looks between them, smiling.

“Sounds like you were a handful.”

“Sure was.”

Still is, apparently, no matter how much he tries to stay out of the way.

The silence that follows is punctuated by the sounds of cutlery scraping across plates, of shrinking ice cubes rattling against glass. It feels pensive at the same time as it does thorny, like Tony opened the door to let someone in but accidentally let out a few ghouls.

And despite knowing he’d stepped on a landmine with the Parkers, he can’t help but wonder what other pieces of the puzzle he’s missing. Why Peter doesn’t live with his parents. Not that Tony is invested in him or anything.

He just doesn’t like mysteries, that’s all.

May excuses herself after to head to the bathroom not long after. It’s during that time that the waiter brings the check, which Tony takes immediately, slipping in some of the cash he’d gotten earlier, despite Peter’s protests. He was gonna do it anyway, even if he didn’t have the letter in the back of his mind.

“Stop paying for me,” Peter says after he passes the check-book back to the waiter. “Your family is rich, I get it. I’ve told you, I don’t need your charity.”

Tony shakes his head. It’s not worth mentioning that the only money he spends doesn’t come from his family.

“It’s not charity. Do you really think I’m that nice, eh? C’mon. Maybe I like lording it over you.”

“Well, at some point I’m going to pay you back.”

“And when that time comes I’m not going to accept your money.”

“You will,” Peter smiles wryly down at his plate. “I have my ways.”

“As do I, sweetums. Now, do me a favour: shut up and finish your larb.”

Peter does, but something about him shifts. It seems more quiet and contemplative, his eyes staying longer on Tony than they normally would. He wants to tell him to take a picture, but for once, Tony thinks it’s probably best if he keeps his mouth shut.

---

Back at the apartment, Peter goes to retrieve his ‘Econ notes’, taking the folder from the table and retreating to his bedroom. In the interim, May offers to let Tony stay over, inviting him for what he’s sure would be a rousing game of Mario Kart. 

He politely declines.

“You sure? Winner gets to choose a movie.”

“I should really get home,” he says. “Thanks though. And thanks for dinner.”

“No problem. Thank you for paying, you didn’t have to do that. Let me pay you back.”

“No need. Think of it as payment for your services and letting us pick your brain tonight.”

She reluctantly accepts with a lot less pride than what her nephew displayed and that makes Tony feel a little sick, because it’s evident that she’s a proud and stubborn woman by nature. Her acceptance, albeit laboured, speaks volumes as to the reasoning behind it.

What takes him by surprise is when she hugs him goodbye and kisses his cheek.

“You’re a good egg, Anthony. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

It’s probably the most maternal touch he’s had since, well. Probably since he last went to stay with Jarvis and his wife. Fidgeting in the hold, he’s not sure if he wants to squirm or to sink into it.

May leaves when Peter comes back in, a familiar stack of notes in his hands that he passes to Tony.

“You gonna kiss me goodbye, too?”

“What?” Peter blinks.

"Uh, never mind,” Tony waves the papers at him. “Thanks for this.”

Peter looks around to make sure they’re alone before leaning in rather promptly. 

“Wow, hold up on the proximity there,” Tony inches back, startled by their sudden closeness. “I was joking about the kiss --”

“You read the letter, didn’t you,” Peter whisper-hisses.

“What? Letter? What letter?” Tony says, voice strangled. “I don’t know of any letter.”

He gets a painful poke in his chest for his lies.

“Don’t play dumb. It wasn’t where I left it.”

“I’m not -- ow, quit poking me.”

“Then stop lying. You’re unbelievable -- don’t you know that opening someone else’s mail is a crime?”

Tony’s shoulders slump as he concedes.

“Look, it was an accident, it just slipped out. And also, it’s not technically a crime, if the envelope was already open.”

“Oh and the letter magically opened itself and forced you to read it.” 

“That could be argued.”

“Why couldn’t you mind your own business?“

Sick of being poked, he shoves the papers between his arm and his ribs to hold them and takes Peter’s fingers in his hands, squeezing the digits when they struggle to break free of his hold.

“I should have, I admit it - I didn’t think, okay, I’m sorry. Is she okay?”

Peter stops struggling, looking over his shoulder again.

“I don’t know,” he leans in again to whisper, “I only found it yesterday, I haven’t spoken to her yet. Look, I know you hate me, but can you please not tell anyone about this?”

“Why would I tell anyone?”

“I don’t know, because you’re the devil, and you get a kick out of seeing me suffer?”

“True, but I’m not going to tell anyone. Promise. That would make me look like an asshole and you like a martyr. Ergo, I shut my cake hole and continue looking better than you.”

“You’re a real prince charming,” the other boy huffs, but seems to take him at face value. “If I find out differently I’m going to come after you. You’re going to need dental work afterwards.”

Tony lets go of their joined hands, balling his fists and raising them to his face, mimicking what the other boy had done last night. 

“You wanna tousle, huh?”

He gets a light shove out the doorway for his attitude.

“Alright, smartass. Get the fuck outta here already.”

“Going, going. Goodnight, princess.”

He mock bows, peering up under his eyelashes, momentarily arrested as he watches Parker roll his eyes and bite his bottom lip in an attempt to smother a smile. 

His heart continues to beat a bit oddly all the way down to the car, where he sits in contemplative silence for a few moments until the sound of metal clicking shifts him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, hey you,” he coos, gently retrieving his bot from his bag and placing it in the passenger seat, instantly feeling bad. “I didn’t think I would take so long. I’m sorry.”

Placing a seatbelt over the bot and buckling him in, Tony begins to narrate his night to him as he pulls off the curb and begins driving.

“I guess that Parker isn’t so bad,” he tells the bot, who swivels its head in response to his voice. “I mean, he can’t dress for shit and has questionable tastes in friends - oh, and cannot hold his liquor - but I dunno, baby-bot. He’s okay. Don’t tell anyone I said that, though -- and oh my god, did I mention he did gymnastics, what a fucking dork...”

The thoughts churn and buoy him until he pulls up to his house nearly an hour later. From the driveway he can see his fathers office light still on.

The sight of it makes his stomach drop, all good cheer gone in an instant. 

“Damn,” Tony whispers to himself, tapping his knuckles against the steering wheel. This time of night on a Saturday can only mean one thing and he is really not in the mood to be in the crosshairs of whatever his father and Stane are up to.

But before he can work himself into a worry his phone vibrates in his pocket.

> hey, look, thanks for not being a total dick tonight about everything > and last night as well, I guess > yknow what i mean < ur welcome < by the way, i’m proud of you  > for what < not finishing off ur aunts beer tonight < takes strength < asking for help is the first step > omfg i take back what i said > ur the worst < and ur a pain in my ass > they have creams for that u know > anyway, g’nite, butthole > p.s. you’re still not adorable Tony smiles down at his phone. < goodnight bambi The bot clicks at him, breaking him out of his train of thought.

“Don’t look at me like that. Let’s go in, but you gotta keep quiet, okay.”

He manages to avoid detection and attention from anyone, despite accidentally stepping on a squeaky floorboard. Maybe it had something to do with the record player and raucous laughter coming from the office.

In any case, Tony’s just happy to make it back to his bedroom. There, he toes off his sneakers and starts getting ready for bed, stashing the leftover cash into a drawer.

It makes him think about Peter’s reluctance for Tony to pay for over the last couple of instances, and how freaking annoying that is. And rude. 

Honestly, the dude should count himself as one of the lucky guys - Tony is not that magnanimous. He doesn’t experience an impulsive, unthinking eagerness to provide for just anybody.

Oh.

Tony stills in the middle of his bedroom.

Oh no.

He knows what this is.

“This is bad.”

---

*

*

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#starker #ironspider #tony stark x peter parker #high school au