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dotieeee · 1 month

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The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 14

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, drugging, somnophilia, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 14 Warnings:

Graphic non-p&v non-con, graphic violence, alcohol consumption and intoxication

Replay Level 13

Ready? Level 14 Start:

“Nellie! Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you, it’s been soooo long!”

“You look amazing, Nellie. I’m so glad to see you, girl!”

“Nellie, I’m so happy you could make it tonight, it means so much to us.”

Coriolanus Snow’s striking figure stands at his full height while you’re hounded by your old Academy classmates with sweet words, warm smiles, and quick pecks on your cheek – his sharp eyes, however, are unusually hungrier tonight, owing to that dress you’re wearing. To be fair, it was you who made this choice of dress, not him – a figure-hugging crimson-red velvet number with a heart-shaped neckline and puffy sleeves, the hem falling just a few inches above your knees – modest yet showing just enough skin and curve for his mind to go astray.

The way your hips sway in it, and the way he can see just how ample the curve of your ass is for his grabbing while he bends you over and ploughs into you from your ba –

A swift tackle from behind almost knocks the wind out of him, effectively distracting him from you, and when the tackler lets go, he gets pulled in an affectionate one-armed hug by none other than Festus Creed.

“My old friend! Glad you can make it tonight,” Festus greets with a large grin.

“Likewise, Festus. You said you had good news for us, I wouldn’t miss it.”

To Coriolanus, Festus had been a good friend since childhood, and over the years he had proven himself to be a valuable ally. That is why he makes an effort to humour his childhood friend with just about anything he puts his mind to – drinking during the weekends, the occasional sport and game night (he once asked him to join a boxing lesson), and on rare occasions, trips to those fancy strip clubs (where he got his previous escorts from).

Save him fucking unknown girls in a sketchy alleyway, Festus can still put him up to things that Coriolanus doesn’t necessarily have any taste for. This dinner, by far, is one of the more pleasant affairs his friend has come up with, and it’s solely because of Coriolanus’s Citadel-exclusive membership that they were able to reserve highly-coveted seats in one of the tables in the restaurant’s inner garden.

Coriolanus Snow’s eye almost twitches when he sees Festus pull you in for a bear hug and lift you off the floor for a few seconds. He has no reason to be jealous, he reminds himself – Festus is a friend who already has Persephone, who looks happier than ever clinging onto his arm. When he gets a closer look at her as she pulls him in for a quick hug, however, he notices that she has gained weight by a fraction around the midsection.

In an instant, he’s figured out what good news his friend is dying to share. Unless she managed to get her hands on more of her father's infamous wartime stew (Coriolanus shudders to himself), there is no way he could be wrong.

“So Nellie, what did Coriolanus have to do to make you come out of your fortified fortress?” Festus jokes.

You let out a little chuckle and respond in a similar tone, “If you have to know, Festus, he disabled the fortifications, invaded the said fortress, and established a semi-totalitarian regime.”

Even Coriolanus can’t suppress his laugh; you’re by far the wittiest girl he’s ever met – as if he needs another reminder of why he’s so crazy about you.

The White Knight is full on a Saturday night as is expected, the waiting area even more so, but the receptionist is quick to have Festus Creed’s party escorted to the table. Everyone is then plied with refreshments as soon as they’re seated, while a waiter reads out tonight’s specials. There is light chatter which Coriolanus is engaged with animatedly, and everyone else seems to be in chipper spirits, but he’s observing you out of the corner of his eye as he always does.

He’s still quite upset and offended that you had once again attempted to escape him, thank you very much. After all he’s done for you to make sure you’ll never want for anything in his care – the least he deserves was being so cruelly abandoned like you had just tried to do earlier in the day. The punishment he gave you after felt just, but even if he had drawn immense satisfaction from it, that wasn’t how he imagined you pleasuring him by the mouth. It couldn’t be helped, it seems – you needed a much-overdue reminder that you were his and that was the only method he could come up with.

But the way your eyes look so dull and tired presumably from all that crying, even as you tried your best to appear carefree in the presence of friends, stirs something in him. Underneath the table, he takes your hand resting on your lap and laces his fingers between yours in hopes of reassuring you.

Dinner is eventually served in courses, and as usual, everything is delicious. In between bites, Coriolanus manages to sneak glances at you to make sure you’re eating well. Finally, dessert is served, which he knows is your favourite part of every meal, yet you barely get two bites into your cheesecake before you push it towards him.

“You want it? I can’t finish it,” you tell him.

And of course, as the dutiful boyfriend he is, he finishes it off for his sugarplum, earning an eye roll from Festus.

“Look at you two, so disgustingly in love, finishing off each other’s plates and everything,” his friend teases.

Coriolanus's response is a smirk. “And look at you, eating Persephone’s share before she can even put her fork down. It’ll be a wonder she doesn’t starve when you two start living together.”

Careful she doesn't make soup out of you.

The rest of the table erupts into lighthearted giggling; he glances at you sideways and feels a little reassured to see that you’re joining in.

“Speaking of which…” Festus begins after he clears his throat, and, holding Persephone’s hand over the table for everyone to see, he announces what Coriolanus had been suspecting before dinner had even begun.

He and his long-time girlfriend are expecting and are getting married in three months. Despite sleeping around behind her back right after every fight, Persephone had managed to drill some commitment into his friend’s thick skull, which isn’t an easy feat. Coriolanus is genuinely glad at this development – relieved, even, because this means Festus will now have less time for the drinking sprees and mindless shenanigans he’d normally get dragged into.

The table erupts into a chorus of congratulatory messages to which the couple’s faces glow brightly, their grip on each other’s hands tightening as their heads draw marginally closer to each other.

Clemmie asks them something from across the table. “Pers, how far along are you?”

“I’m halfway through my first trimester,” Persephone says. “I’m going to start showing soon, so we’re rushing the preparations. We waited to tell everyone until now because we’d like you guys to play a part in the ceremony.”

“And you, my great, slippery partner in crime,” Festus turns to Coriolanus with a big grin, “Are my best man.”

“It’ll be an honour,” he replies. Best man. Can’t be that bad. How hard can it be to arrange a stag party? He motions to the waiter to fill up all the wine glasses. “My first act as the best man is to propose a toast to my friends Festus and Persephone, or soon-to-be Mr and Mrs Creed, and their baby on the way.”

The table shouts ‘hear, hear’ in unison and empties all of the raised glasses, to which Festus breaks into mock sobs.

“You guys are making me cry,” he fakes wiping his tears using Persephone’s dress-sleeve, which earns a laugh from her and a playful slap on his shoulder.

“I also hope that their future children inherit none of Festus’s rotten genes,” Coriolanus adds as a joke. The entire table laughs along with Persephone as Festus attempts to kick him under the table as he suppresses a toothy smile. Somehow, there is a bit of truth in that – even if his friend means well, he can be a bit dense. Thankfully, Persephone adequately fills that gap. One can just hope she isn't birthing children with cannibalistic tendencies.

The chatter then goes on about the wedding preparations and the following baby shower. Coriolanus fondly recalls you with his cousin and Ma Plinth going over the guest list and the gown designs, a time that you had then ruined with your little disappearing act. He fixes his stare on your face, failing to notice until after a few moments that his own hand has just reached for your left where the engagement ring sits.

Even in his subconscious, he craves any form of contact with you.

Coriolanus notices Persephone’s soft gaze on him, which travels to your clasped hands – perhaps she spots the ring on your hand, for her eyes widen by a fraction before turning back to him with a subtly interested look. He acknowledges the look with a single upturn of his lips.

“Guys, I think we’re not the only ones on this table with good news,” she declares, her excitement palpable. “Nellie, can I see your ring, please?”

It's so endearing how you stammer and smile sheepishly as you attempt to redirect everyone’s attention away from you. “Uh, I…I don’t – I mean, it’s just a ring, this is your night – !”

“Nonsense!” Persephone brushes you off with a genuine smile. “I know an engagement ring when I see one - I've seen them a dozen times. Let us see the ring, please?”

“Wait, what ring?” Clemmie leans forward curiously before she gasps, her eyes darting between him and you. “Oh my, you two as well?”

Lys says with an eager smile, “She’s been totally trying to hide it the entire night. I knew it!”

Coriolanus shrugs within himself and thinks now is a good time as any. “Nellie, it’s okay. You can show them.”

You do as he says demurely while he looks on, mildly amused at the way the others collectively draw closer to your outstretched hand.

Festus guffaws loudly, startling everyone including the waiter who almost drops the plates he’s collecting.

“He finally got the balls to do it, huh? Fuck yeah, congratulations, man!” His friend lets out a whoop as they exchange a warm and vigorous handshake. Festus turns to you, saying, “Nellie, I’m glad you gave him a chance because it was getting really obnoxious how he just talks about you, pining, whenever he gets tipsy.”

It's Coriolanus’s turn to send him a half-hearted kick under the table, unable to help his growing smirk. “You’re a horrible liar, Creed, I do not pine.”

The girls congratulate you both as a couple, and his friend offers a similar congratulatory toast while declaring himself Coriolanus’s best man.

“There is no one else I can think of who’ll fit the bill,” Coriolanus agrees. “Also, I’d appreciate it if this stays between us for now, as we plan to announce it after the 12th Games. The wedding is in six months, approximately.”

“Of course,” Lys nods. “You can trust us, Coriolanus. Festus is the only one in this table who can’t keep a secret.”

“Hey!”

“Can I tell Livia, though?”

Lys, Festus and Persephone gape at Clemmie and her question, but she just shrugs it off over a sip of her glass. “What? She’s going to find out anyway.”

You look understandably confused. “Oh yeah, I thought she’d be joining today.”

Inwardly, Coriolanus doesn’t care if his former prospect avoids him forever, but he hadn’t told you about him almost choosing her at first before he set his eyes on you. He’d very much like to see how you’d respond, although he masks this interest by feigning awkwardness.

Persephone licks her lips before explaining. “She said she had something else to attend to, but I think she’s just upset with Coriolanus.”

This conversation is turning out to be in his favour. “This was before you, Nellie. We were supposed to go on this date, but I decided against it. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad, we didn’t even talk.”

“’It wasn’t that bad?’ Are you kidding me?” Festus says in between sniggers. “You practically scarred her, leaving her out to dry like that.”

Clemmie nods thoughtfully. “Or in her words, you led her on and essentially ghosted her.”

“So imagine how mad she was when she started hearing rumours about the two of you,” Persephone recounts. “People always whispered about how close you two were, but all we got were mere speculations.”

Lys chimes in, “And then we see that article about Mr Plinth’s birthday party.”

“Yes, that! Nellie, you were so freaking pretty, gosh. I have to tell you, it was all I could hear from the girls I knew in class. You made red silk slip dresses a trend,” Clemmie gushes. “Anyway, Livia phoned me the night that article came out, we went out for drinks and she ended up getting wasted and so stressed out about it. It was so messy, I’m telling you.”

Coriolanus intently observes your reaction – you keep your face guarded, but he can tell by looking into your eyes that you’re surprised at the revelations. “Sorry, you had to find out this way. I meant to tell you all about it.”

To further paint the repentant boyfriend, he keeps a rueful expression and takes your hand in his. Your posture stiffens a little.

“It’s…it’s fine, honestly…”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Nellie,” Persephone gently says.

Lys nods in agreement, and Clemmie begins teasing you. “Nellie, I didn’t know you had a jealous streak. Seriously, don’t be!”

You bristle at the ladies’ playful teasing, the tip of your ears reddening at the attention as you vehemently deny them. “No, I’m not...!”

If Coriolanus was a lesser man, he would’ve kissed you right there and then, damn everybody who’s watching.

But there it is – the reaction he’d been waiting to see from everyone since the talk of that Cardew girl began – to the circle, your approach on the subject is natural as his girlfriend and fiancée. Eventually, however, you successfully revert the topic to Persephone’s wedding preparations, which somehow leads to a collective decision to move to Club Heresy for a few drinks.

Club Heresy, located just a few blocks away, is an exclusive invite-only club, and in Clemmie’s words, the ‘hottest’ nightclub in the city where the richest, most popular kids in the Capitol are known to frequent. Coriolanus had been there too many times to count, but it'll be your first time. He’s aware he may have overwhelmed you with tonight’s dinner, so he has to be close by preferably at all times to look out for you.

As soon as you get inside the loud, crowded, dimly-lit box they call Club Heresy, you wrench away from the girls to go to the bathroom. You see something akin to suspicion in Coriolanus’s eyes when you tell him, but you don’t wait for permission from him – you extricate yourself from your company the moment you get his hand off your waist, and as soon as you lock the bathroom stall, you cover your mouth with both your palms and scream.

You let out several guttural screams, unable to care any less if anyone else can hear.

He had a choice.

He had a choice, a voice keeps repeating in your head. It could’ve been someone else’s life he’d ruined. It could’ve been Livia Cardew in your place, being dragged into Coriolanus Snow’s life – and if what your old classmates had said is to be believed, she sounded willing to participate, even heartbroken that she had lost the chance.

But for whatever rotten, miserable, fucked-up reason, he still chose to make your life a living hell by forcing you into a relationship you never asked for, and soon, into a marriage you’ll never want.

Your screams eventually morph into uncontrollable sobbing, which you still try to stifle with your hands.

A knock on your bathroom stall echoes in the space, followed by an impatient voice on the other side that asks, “Hey, excuse me? You’ve been in there so long, other people have to go to, you know.”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

The retort you let out might’ve been too abrasive, but the scary part is, you can’t bring yourself to give a damn anymore. You’re turning into a person you no longer recognise the longer you’re with him, and it’s a person you’re starting to hate.

Coriolanus is dragged away to the bar by Festus as he watches your form scurry away and disappear through the crowd of intoxicated bodies thrashing to ear-splitting electronic music. The two males leave the ladies at the VIP booth so they can drink and talk in peace.

“Hey, she’s not going to try and escape man, what the hell?” Festus shouts through the noise.

You have no idea, Coriolanus thinks wryly.

They get to the bar where it’s significantly quieter, and where Festus challenges him to shots of vodka and watered-down posca to chase them with.

Festus grimaces after downing the first shot and asks, “Hey listen, congratulations on finally nailing her down, but six months? You knocked her up, didn’t you?”

“No.” Coriolanus empties the second the shot glass, eager to get this drinking spree over with. Though he can afford to pay for it now and even chooses to partake at times, he’s aware that constant inebriation isn’t ideal for someone like him who has an impeccable image to uphold. “I told you many times: I’m – we’re waiting for marriage.”

“Yeah, I remember feeling the same way – two years ago. I’ve always admired your self-control, Snow, but nobody’s perfect.” Festus snorts in laughter and spills some of the posca on the bar.

Even as aware as he is that his restraint concerning you continues to slip by the day, Coriolanus merely scoffs when he goes through the fifth shot and chaser, deliberately ignoring the heightening buzz. “What can I say, Creed? I’m learning from your mistakes.”

His friend, who’s clearly starting to lose inhibition due to the alcohol, erupts into fits of giggles, before pointing at something from across the bar. Obviously slurring now, he says, “Uh-oh, troublewithyourgirl, two, three, o’clock?”

Coriolanus whips his head fast enough to almost cause a dizzy spell. True enough, he sees you, his precious sugarplum, your eyes red-rimmed and your brows drawn together in a frown, trying to evade – and failing – a guy who’s clearly invading your personal space and making unwanted advances.

He tries not to see red, but with every step he takes closer to you, it becomes increasingly impossible. He stares daggers at the male as he gets in between you two.

“I’d step away now if I were you,” he says, his jaw tensing and his fists curling and uncurling. Don’t let the alcohol get to your head, he recites inwardly.

“Mind your own business, punk, I’m trying to score here,” the bastard says, pushing and brushing past him to get to your frame currently retreating further into your future husband’s back.

This fills him with pride and warmth, knowing that even if you’re not in the best of terms, you still turn to him for protection. It’s his duty, he’s well aware, but he also loves you - enough for him to admit he’d die first before he lets anyone harm a single strand of your hair.

That duty of his is the only thing on his mind the second the bastard grabs your arm – he lets the sweet, intoxicating, elixir do wonders in his brain and lets his fist fly right onto the scum’s nose.

Nobody gets to touch what belongs to Coriolanus Snow except Coriolanus Snow.

Screams from a few people on the dance floor overpower the thumping electronic music, the crowd drawing back to give space to the man currently on the floor, knocked out by a single, powerful punch from your fiancé. It takes a few seconds later than you would’ve liked – owning to the fact that the man’s nose is bleeding profusely and you try not to let the image of the thick, red liquid get into your head – but you wrap your arms around Coriolanus’s midriff to keep him from launching himself on the man with all intents to further rough him up. The burly club bouncers are immediately at the scene while the man tries to get back on his feet to no avail.

Coriolanus is quick to explain the situation, saying how the bastard ‘groped’ his girlfriend; the bouncers ask no more questions and haul the man away.

“This’s new. I normally start the fights,” Festus, who had just arrived at the scene smelling like an entire bar with his eyes drooping and red, merely grins proudly at his friend, but this has no effect on him whatsoever.

Coriolanus still looks like he’s about to murder someone on sight, so you attempt to placate him by placing a hand on his arm. His gaze instantly softens by a fraction when he looks at it, but then he makes a grab for it, and, after dragging you around to bid the entire group farewell, you find yourself back in the car, wedged in between the upholstered backseat and your boyfriend’s sinewy form, the air being sucked out of you by his mouth firmly latched onto yours.

As Coriolanus drags his lips against your lips, you wilt with dread; the kiss he’s forcing you to share is filled with the kind of urgency and hunger that you suspect won’t let up anytime soon, judging by how he smells and tastes of vodka and posca. He pauses briefly when he drags you across his lobby, but the kiss is back full force when the elevator closes, and the moment his apartment door closes behind you, he lifts your entire body over his shoulder and carries you to his bedroom, squealing and hitting whatever part of him you could reach with your flailing fists.

He ignores all of this and essentially throws you on his bed. Your attempts to crawl away are then hindered when he climbs on top of you and straddles you on the hips.

“No, get off me – !”

His body descends on yours and he kisses you once more in the mouth to silence you, but once his hand strokes your thigh and hikes up your dress, you push his chest with all your might and break the kiss.

“No, please – !”

But you’re cut off by your own scream – he’s just flipped you on your stomach with a growl over your ear, and once again, he pins you in place with his thighs on either side of your hips. You’re panicking by now; this new position only offers you a view of the headboard when you lift your head and prevents any more of your already limited movement, and since he wouldn’t budge an inch, there’s very little you can do now to get out of his grasp except one thing:

You break down in tears and beg.

“Please, Coryo, let me go…”

But all that earns you is him whispering hotly over your ear.

“Hush, my sugarplum. I did promise to wait until we’re married, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have any fun.”

That’s when you feel him rip the back of your dress, and the tearing sound mingles with your own terrified sobs. With the way you can feel the cold prickling your skin, you can tell he’s torn the dress until your lower back – if he had torn an inch further, he could’ve exposed the crack of your ass, covered modestly by your underwear.

With his lips grazing your ear, he hisses, “Nobody touches what’s mine except me.”

Within seconds of ripping your dress, you can feel him suckle and bite on whatever part of your back he can reach, his tongue leaving hot, wet trails on the exposed, stinging flesh – as if that isn’t enough, his hand further pushes your shoulder into the mattress, while his other snakes underneath the part of the dress he hasn’t pulled up and travels between your thighs. He begins stroking your clothed cunt with his fingers, and to your embarrassment, you can feel your own warmth soaking your panties as soon as he does. When you writhe helplessly underneath him, his tongue licks upwards, stopping at the base of your neck before he plants a kiss on your hair and whispers:

“Sshh, my little sugarplum; let me reward you for doing so well tonight.”

“Coryo, no, please, please…!”

Alternating between shushing you and kissing your temples, Coriolanus pushes your panties aside and rubs your wet entrance, right before you feel a finger of his pushing into your untouched hole.

The unwanted friction stings a little, earning a choked scream from you, and you learn quickly that squirming actually makes it worse. So, you lie perfectly still and squeeze the pillow before you while he fully plunges the finger inside you before pulling it out and pushing it back in.

He's gone to a place in you that you never even knew existed, every thrust of his finger makes you realise just how sensitive that place is. He settles for a steady pace in no time as you adjust to the feeling, and as shameful as it already is, your cries are reduced to whimpers, and eventually to moans, and your muscles begin to clench and unclench around his finger uncontrollably.

“So fucking tight, my sugarplum,” he whispers against his temple. “Is this how tightly you’ll squeeze my cock when I take you on our wedding night?”

His finger brushes over an area inside you that causes you to arch your back and curl your toes – you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, but you can’t bring yourself to care. For now, all you can think of is that finger hitting that same spot over and over, your insides clenching him erratically.

“You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it. Let go, my sugarplum.”

Close to what, you find out soon enough – your first orgasm invades all your senses, wracking your body with tremors. Pleasure like you’ve never felt before, forced from you by your fiancé’s ministrations – but it fades as soon it comes, replaced by relief when that finger finally leaves your core and the body pinning you down draws back a little, then by pure shame and guilt for your body reacting as it did when you should have hated it.

“See what I give you when you obey me?”

You don’t spend more than a few moments to contemplate just how appalled you are at yourself – above you, you hear the rustling of a belt buckle being undone and a zipper being pulled down, and you panic again, pleading to him and wishing he’d just leave you alone.

“Please, Coryo, don’t…”

Coriolanus shushes you again, this time, gripping the left side of your waist to keep you in place while you hear him starting to breathe steadily heavier. You lie still, afraid of what he might do, but all you hear from him after a few tense seconds is his strained groaning and cursing under his breath.

“Fuck, you’re going to feel so good when I’m inside you…”

He’s pleasuring himself above you, and the realisation leaves you mortified, but you decide to ignore him and block out everything altogether.

“Can’t you feel me trying to make you feel good, Nellie?” He asks in between his panting and grunting. “Why can’t you see me trying to give you everything you want? To make you feel happy? Why can’t you just accept that I love you?”

You decide to ignore that, too.

What you can’t ignore, however, is the sound of him reaching his peak – it’s a vulgar sound, you note – followed by something hot and wet spilling on your lower back, indicating he’s spilt himself on you.

You feel him draw closer, breathing heavily into your ear and whispering, “You’re mine. You’ll learn to accept that in time.”

The bed shifts when he finally gets off you, but he kisses you once on the back of your neck and on your head, probably – hopefully – for the last time tonight, before saying, “Now would be a perfect time to start accepting your reality; otherwise, you’re just going to be miserable. And I don’t want that. I want to make you happy, and I will – you just have to let me.”

He later cleans you up with a wet towel and removes whatever is left of your dress, leaving you in only your underwear – you close your eyes the entire time and just let him. You scoot over to the edge of the bed when he comes back, shirtless and clad in only his boxer shorts, but he wraps his arm around you tightly and pulls you by the waist until your back touches his chest. The action is enough for the tears to come spilling for the umpteenth time this day, but you try to keep it down to mere sniffling. He coos from behind you and places his lips on the side of your neck in this gentle, lingering kiss.

“I’m placing you on paid suspension. Because of what you did, sugarplum, I’d have to send your uncle to exile in the Districts. Understand this: this isn’t meant to hurt you in any way. I only mean to teach you a lesson: do as I say, and you’ll never have to cry like this again.”

Coriolanus plants a series of butterfly kisses on the same spot, travelling to your shoulder and back. He then burrows his face at the groove of your neck, inhaling deeply and sighing with absolute contentment.

“I love you, Nellie,” he murmurs against your skin. “Now, sleep. Everything will be better in the morning.”

But with him, you can never really know, can you?

“So, Nellie dear, what do you think of this?”

Ma Plinth pores into the catalogue you have open in your lap and points on page fifteen.

She set up a Sunday morning appointment with Nicolau Daley, a renowned professional wedding planner whose energy you can barely keep up with as he showed you countless catalogues of wedding themes and decorations and needlessly described them in detail. You’re unable to focus on the said page, but you nod anyway.

“I think it’s pretty, Ma.”

“I think so too,” she nods to herself. “Coriolanus would like it as well, seeing as it’s full of the red roses he’s partial to…”

Ah yes. It’s all about what he wants, isn’t it?

Ma rummages through the hefty stack of other catalogues piled on the coffee table before you.

“Let me show you the one he and I initially agreed on so you can pick which one you like best...”

At the end of the scheduled appointment, you both walk out of Mr Daley’s office with samples of wedding décor carried by Ma’s maid, with Ma in light spirits and you…just about as chipper as one can be when one is forced into marrying a sadistic monster.

You both stroll along the busy 7th Street, the Capitol’s long mecca of luxury goods its residents go crazy for. It’s this day that you discover that Ma is like almost every woman you know when it comes to shopping: from every shop she visits with the intention of ‘just looking around,’ you come out with more bags than you entered, and the hapless maid tailing behind has to deal with carrying the packages.

“Let her do it, Nellie dear,” she dismisses your offer to her maid to help her. “I’ve never taken you out on a shopping day like this, and I want you to have fun!”

By the end of the impromptu shopping spree, you’ve combed all the shops along 7th street and have reached the corner between 7th and 9th, but as you exit, Ma decides to go back inside to get a pair of gloves and asks you to wait outside.

“You can look around and see if there’s anything you like from that store and I’ll meet you right back here in about fifteen minutes,” she instructs, pointing to the other side of the street before vanishing into the shop.

You wonder half-heartedly what will happen to her if you make a run for it now. You certainly have some time before she realises that you've gone. What would Coriolanus do? He will likely never dare hurt her, of course, lest he incurs Strabo Plinth’s wrath. But where will you go, when your inter-district travel pass has been revoked? You’ll most likely never get far, and anyone in the Capitol you ask help from, save your uncle, would turn you back into your fiancé’s custody in a heartbeat.

Your gloomy musings are interrupted when you notice you’ve just turned to the first shop on 9th Street. You face its window, with the words ‘Second Chances Pet Shelter’ in bright paint, and without thinking, you push the door open and enter.

The establishment is rather small, but stacked with steel cages on the walls filled with all sorts of animals. At the end of the space sits a woman behind a counter who introduces herself as Patty. She gets to her feet when she sees you, greets you with a smile and begins recounting the shelter’s history.

They’re a local animal rescue organisation, you discover, and they began with the noble effort of rehabilitating abandoned animals after the war. They have since thrived to this day, given the Capitol’s rather flimsy trends – once a type of pet has gone out of style, the poor things are either euthanised or abandoned to the elements and left to fend for themselves.

Patty’s retelling is interrupted when you feel something soft brush against your legs. You look down to see what it is.

“Oh dear, Oscar has escaped his cage again,” she exclaims with a fond yet exasperated sigh. “Oscar…”

Oscar, a long-haired cat with a black and white coat resembling that of a tuxedo, just proceeds to weave through your legs and ignore the shopkeeper.

“I’m sorry, he’s just so frighteningly smart,” she says. “He keeps breaking the cage’s locking mechanism. This is the sixth cage he's broken in a month.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckle. At least one of you has the ability to break away. “Can I pick him up?”

Having no experience with pets since your uncle is allergic, you’re not sure how to handle him.

“I’d be careful if I were you; he’s a bit of an old-timer. He only tolerates me and he doesn’t really take kindly with other people. Come to think of it, you’re the only person who’s ever walked in here that he’s interacted with…”

You kneel on the floor to get close to Oscar’s height. Patty instructs you to hold out a finger for him to sniff at.

“In cat-speak, it means ‘hello.’”

To your surprise, Oscar rubs his whiskered cheek on your outstretched finger.

“Oh my!” Patty exclaims excitedly. “It means he thinks you’re friends now, I think. You can pet him if you want.”

But you don’t even wait for her instruction – Oscar takes it to himself to rub his chin on your hand, while you use your other hand to pat his head, and this goes on for about a minute before he turns his tail on you and walks gracefully away.

A few raps on the glass window alert you to Ma, waving at you cheerily and motioning to someone standing behind her with an almost curious glint in his eyes.

Coriolanus Snow flashes you a grin and tilts his head purposefully. You’ve come to know what that means in Coryo-speak:

Time to go.

You try not to think about the fact that you’ll likely never see Oscar the cat again, but you take out your rarely-used chequebook and write the shelter a hefty amount – hoping your Uncle wouldn’t mind – to which the lady thanks you profusely for. She lets you say goodbye to Oscar, who’s currently atop one of the shop’s shelves, grooming his pretty long coat. He snubs you completely, which you think is for the better – it’s a lot less heartbreaking for you that way when you finally exit the shop.

Coriolanus immediately gives you a fleeting kiss on the lips in greeting. “How’s the shopping going, my sugarplum?”

“It's going well, thank you.” Until you showed up, anyway.

You notice his gaze flick momentarily back to the shop, then back to yours.

“Let’s get you home, then, shall we?”

Without waiting for your response, he grabs you by the waist and steers you into the car. When you arrive in his apartment, you learn what he just meant by getting you ‘home.’

Once he’s taken his coat off, he drags you to his bedroom, sits on the edge of the bed, and issues a simple command:

“Get on your knees, sugarplum.”

Enter Level 15

Next on Level 15 - Uncle Cas officially leaves to his exile immediately after the engagement party; you make a friend of sorts out of a former bully; Snowball tries to cheer you up by giving you a gift; you make a surprising choice for your maid of honour.

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated! Anyone wonder what this gift will be? 😊🤭🫣

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #Young!coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #named!reader #or #x OC2ndPOV #18+ only #dark!coriolanus snow fic #dark!coriolanus #dark!coriolanus fic #dark!fic

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spiderman-intotheshitterverse · 9 months

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PunkNoir/NoirPunk Headcannons

Clothing/looks related :)

• Hobie puts a lot of effort into himself, like everything in his outfits is a statement, and even if his clothes aren’t very consistent , they are cohesive

• Peter on the other hand doesn’t have a lot of fashion knowledge. He can’t experiment with colors or with any unique clothing in his day and age so his clothes stay in the button up and black pants range mostly. (I say he has the no fashion sense straight man energy but still tries his best to look dapper)

• When Hobie visits Peter he’ll steal clothes and add them to his wardrobe, the black and white contrast nicely with his normal ones or adds something of his into Peter’s.

• So when Peter goes to look at his clothes for the next day he finds a shirt missing and a bright, ripped, hot pink cropped shirt in its place. (He finds this cute and wears them in his own home)

• Sometimes Hobie does this too often and Peter finds himself lacking any of his original clothes so he has to do a run to Hobie’s to get his clothes back.

• Hobie playfully pouts a bit when Peter does this but doesn’t mind it. The first time when Hobie did this Peter expected that Hobie’s closet would only consist of black and white stuff now but there still was a abundance of colorful clothing pieces.

• Hobie also has unique piercings, pins and patches that he adds to everything he owns and loves, this included Peter

• So when Peter’s in his home after hanging out with Hobie he’ll sometimes find a few pins in his pocket or a patch sewn onto his jacket. (Hobie tries to get Peter to pierce his ears but hasn’t succeeded yet)

• Hobie wears eyeliner and some graphic liners if he’s feeling fancy, and does Peter’s makeup if they hangout together. Sometimes he gifts his almost used eyeliner pens to Peter for him to try at home.

• Since Peter has met Hobie, he’s become more experimental with his style when he’s alone or with Hobie, but around others he sticks with his usual. (He does love to put a bit of rouge on his lips and cheeks as a subtle thing, Hobie gave him the rouge)

• Peter and Hobie have “friendship” bracelets that they made for each other, both matching the others universe aka Hobie wears a black and white one and Peter a very colorful one.

• Hobie does the very stereotypical thing and wears Peter’s clothes after a night together (it’s very cliche, they both love it)

(Yes I wrote this to procrastinate writing the next chapter of my fic because I hate hate hate writing mornings cause they’re so awkward to write like no I don’t wanna write Hobie eating breakfast and making toast ughh I want him to have a gay panic attack)

#noirpunk #punknoir #headcanon #headcannons #clothing #clothing headcannons

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snek-panini · 25 days

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It's been a month since Binderary ended but I've still got books to share! This is @worse0mens's (hi!) wonderful Good Omens series, The Blossom Realm, which starts with Omens of Another Kind. This is very much a longtime favorite of mine, an AU with a really compelling combo of worldbuilding and characterization. This is a believable grand romance that's also a court drama and a fairy tale, and it's really long (the full series is about 220k words) so it will keep you reading for a long time. This is one of the fics I learned bookbinding for, and it was the first really long fic that I typeset (and redid once I learned more about typesetting). It's been a long road but it was so worth it.

More photos under the cut!

Couple of photos of the spines. The series doesn't divide easily, with one very long work, one medium-length one, and several shorter pieces. The main story is nearly 200k on its own, the longest single volume I've ever made (about 500 pages), and I was worried about it getting too unwieldy, so I put all the other works into their own volume of about 100 pages. They make a disparate set but I love them. The cover is done in skiver green faux leather from Hollander's; I've never worked with this brand before but I loved it, and one sheet was big enough to do both books. The titles are done in cricut brand gold foil htv. There were some issues with that, as I'd bought a multi-pack with a few different colors and only found out after applying the front cover graphics on both books that one, I didn't have enough to do the backs and spines; two, that the gold in that pack is a totally different color than the gold they sell on its own; and three, that no one in my area stocked it anymore and I had to order it from Europe. Here's what the back looks like:

It's the same graphic as the front but without the title in the center, and it's one of the fanciest backs I've ever done and it took forever to weed all those little cutouts. The graphic was free to use on rawpixel. The font I used on the spines and front is a basic Microsoft font called Harrington that worked incredibly well on the cricut, even at small sizes; a lot of basic fonts are too thin, especially fancy ones, so this was a delightful surprise.

Photo of the top, with ribbon bookmark and handmade double core endbands. The endbands didn't come out as well as I'd have liked; they're a little uneven and the color changes aren't that evenly spaced. Double core ones are harder than I expected and I need more practice. The endpapers are chocolate silk moire, and I chose them because there's a very important massive tree in the fic and I thought they looked like wood grain. I did a little experimenting with the shorter volume that's visible around the edges of the endpaper. I wanted gilded edges but the longer book had to be rounded, and I thought I'd try paint instead of foil since I don't know how to foil a curved edge. But I did my experiments on the smaller volume and I couldn't get good coverage, so the edge had to be trimmed off. The watered-down paint had leaked into the edge of the silk moire too far for me to trim, so it's still there. But it's kind of pretty, so I'm going to call it an aesthetic choice.

The title pages are the same, with free graphics from rawpixel. I got lucky and found a similar set of roses that I used for the chapter headers:

These had to be positioned by hand for each chapter so they'd fit around the text properly. It was a pain but they look so pretty. The final photo contains a story spoiler, so proceed with caution if you don't want that:

The scene break image in both volumes is this tiny snake. This was one of the first aesthetic choices I made for the books. A lot of the plot is centered around a prophecy about a monster snake that everyone thinks will destroy the kingdom, and of course in the manner of Good Omens fic it's a wildly inaccurate misinterpretation and not a threat at all. I wanted something like this because the snake is not only non-threatening but it's been here the entire time and there was never any reason to freak out about it. It was surprisingly difficult to find a snake image that was both simple enough to still be clear at this size and also didn't look dangerous or like a cartoon character. I looked at so many snakes before I found this one, it's ridiculous.

And that's it! I hope the author likes it (and remembers me since I asked to do this almost a year ago). There are three more binderary posts forthcoming, though I don't know how long it'll take me to get to them. It was a busy month.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #good omens #fic rec #everyone look at my books they are so pretty #and then go read the fic it's so good omg

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crow-girl-cock · 3 months

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Hai :7

I love you!

yes you!

click this.

now for introduction.

my name is Renée Corbeau

but you can call me ren or crow

I love crows! they feel like family to me and I hope next cycle I get to experience the life of a crow.

I have gone through alot in life and fancy myself some sort of activist by proxy of that pain, am I perfect? fuck no! I am still learning and probably operate under toxic bias still despite all the effort I have put into growth.

I'm adhd, autistic, anxious, depressive, dissacioative, probably some degree of plurality.

I'm a gender non-conforming transwoman, definitely puppy coded, and severely down bad for women, especially butch women!

that being said the human body is beautiful. especially fat bodies, I'm a sucker for meat :3

all my guys, gals, and non binary pals deserve kisses (assuming that they want them)

I love gender fuckery, people who actively blur those lines are doing the lords work.

despite being very friendly and appearing slightly outgoing sometimes, I am very shy and dont have a very large social battery.

if I ever dont repespond dont take it personally there are loads of reasons why this could be.

U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U

I am kind of a red mage when it comes to special interests, I know a little bit about alot.

(all lists are not ordered and not exhaustive)

some examples include;

from gaming~ pokemon, zelda, elderscrolls, darksouls, minecraft, osu!, space sims (elite dangerous, astroneer, dyson sphere project, hardspaceshipbreaker), roguelikes (noita, deadcells, gungeon, vagante, slaythespire)

from other media~ pokemon again, bluey, adventure time, atla, bee and puppycat, studio ghibli (nausicaa is goat), csm, bleach, dragonball, naruto, she-ra, JJK

from *gasps* real life~

space (and metaphysics), nature (it's peculiarities and the many funky adorable little guys born in it) I'm definitely a poser but skateboarding and rollerskating (I really want to get into rollerderby) philosophy (to the extent that any skid is);

History!

(not as well read as I would like becasue there is so much of it, and so much of the truth is buried under misinformation, but I have deconstructed the whole western myth of how things went and painted myself a much clearer picture as to how things got so bad and am learning new things about the world all the time, please feel free to info dump about anything history related I'd love to hear it. anthropology and archaeology too obvs)

Art!

(this is my choosen field for better or worse >⁠.⁠< I am going to college for web and graphic design (2024-2026) I might extend that an extra 2 years to make it a bachelor of design and hope to one day make graphic novels, beautifully illustrated with deep thought prevoking stories)

く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡

Kink! (definitely subject to change)

petplay, musk, intox, bondage, impact, cnc, degradation, somno, hypno, blood, knives, size difference probably more I haven't thought of

I'm poly and very t4t

I'm a switch but this hellsite has been steadily turning me into a bottom day by day heheh

but no actually

I used to be a hypersexual dom pre-transition

but E has made me alot less uncontrollably horny and far more sensitive and inclined to seek vulnerability, all my drive to dom has dissolved

also I suck at tagging and will sometimes will reblog art/random things from tags without checking bios

if that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable please see the block button for more info ;3c

.♡. .♡. .♡.

anyways since you made it this far

here have some headpats

spread kindness please and thank you ^v^

As above, So below.

Hai :7

I love you!

yes you!

#crøwø #crøwcaw #crøwscanvas

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onceuponastory · 11 months

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a true hero - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: When Princess Y/N is taken by a dragon, Bucky Barnes, her best friend and a humble blacksmith, joins the royal guard in their quest to help rescue her. Pairing: Blacksmith!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader Warnings: People and horses being killed by a dragon, ableism towards Bucky and his metal arm, injuries (nothing too graphic), classism, John Walker being an asshole, and Bucky doubting himself because of it. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: This is another piece for @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse Connect Four event! I combined the two squares Mythology and Royalty. This could also fit the Fairytale square, but I have a separate idea planned for that, (wink wink). This is based on a Scottish myth/legend. I just reworked it a little for this fic and gave it a slightly happier ending.

Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

One spring morning, Bucky Barnes is hard at work. Sweat drips from his forehead, both due to the fire and his fast work. His work as the kingdom’s blacksmith keeps him busy, whether it’s making horseshoes for the local farmers, or new swords for the royal guard. He inherited the shop from his father a decade ago, and has since transformed it into a successful business.

“Hello Bucky.” A familiar, soft voice speaks. Bucky gasps, quickly wiping the sweat from his brow and hoping he doesn’t have any dirt on his face. Not that Princess Y/N would care, though. She’s always been so kind to him, despite the difference in their upbringings and social classes. She’ll make a great Queen someday.

“Your highness.” Bucky murmurs, dropping into a bow. Y/N chuckles.

“Please, Bucky. I’ve told you plenty of times that you don’t need to call me that. After all, you’ve known me for long enough. Y/N is fine.” She’s right. The pair are the same age, and have known each other for most of their lives. Ever since a young Y/N visited Bucky’s father’s workshop with her father, and made a point of introducing herself to him. Since that day, Y/N always visits him whenever she can, either at his workshop or when he delivers weapons to the royal guards. Bucky knows that most people in the kingdom are wondering what a Princess would have in common with a blacksmith… and honestly, sometimes he wonders that too. Surely a well travelled, fancy Lord or Prince is more interesting than spending time with him. But Y/N never seems to have thought that, or judged him for what he does. In fact, he swears he could tell her the entire process of making a sword, and she’d still hang onto his every word.

“W-What are you doing here?” He chuckles, hating how tongue tied he suddenly is.

“Well, I’m visiting the local library, and I had to come see you, of course. I do enjoy our visits.” She smiles. Bucky enjoys them, too. Although, that may be obvious considering the lovesick grin he has whenever she visits him. He’s been in love with Y/N for as long as he can remember. She’s the first thing he thinks of whenever he wakes up, and the last thing he thinks of when he goes to sleep. He’s never told her, though. Of course not. How could a humble blacksmith like him win a Princess' heart?

Y/N may treat him with kindness despite their different lives, but few others would. And besides, one of those fancy Lords or Princes could give her so much more than he ever could. Y/N deserves a happy life, with everything she could ever need. And Bucky just can’t provide that. But, If being Y/N’s friend is all he’s destined to be, then that’s alright with him. Yet, he just can’t ignore how much his heart sinks when he thinks those words. “So, what have you been working on?” She asks. And then her eyes widen. “Oh, my goodness! Your arm!”

Bucky chuckles. “I finished working on the new version a few days ago.” He smiles proudly, turning his body to let Y/N see it. A few years ago, Bucky was involved in a carriage accident, and in the ensuing carnage, his left arm became trapped in the wreckage. Once he was free, the wound became infected. As soon as she found out, Y/N sent for the palace doctor, the best in the kingdom, to treat him. He advised that the arm should be removed as soon as possible, and it was. Since then, Bucky has been working on a metal prosthetic for it. His new version is still in the early stages, but he’s managed to get it moving, and it’s helping him a lot with his work.

“It’s beautiful.” She smiles. “You’ve done a wonderful job.” As Y/N gazes at his arm, her mouth dropped open with curiosity, Bucky smiles. And that same feeling he gets deep in his gut whenever he thinks about or sees Y/N returns. She saved his life that day. How could he ever repay that?

“Y/N, I-”

“Princess! Where are you?” A booming voice sounds, and Y/N’s face falls. Yet before either can say anything more, Sir John Walker storms into the workshop. Immediately, the atmosphere shifts. Sir John is one of the royal knights, sworn to protect Y/N at all costs. Although, considering how cruel and snobby he is to people who dare to even look in Y/N’s direction, both Y/N and Bucky think he may have let the role go to his head slightly. “Princess.” He sighs. “It’s not safe to wander around so freely, especially with this monster on the loose.” Sir John warns. And for once, Bucky agrees with him. For months, young women in the kingdom have been vanishing without a trace. Nobody knows who or what is responsible, whether man or beast, and the royal guard has had little to no luck finding it. Because of the threat, young women in the kingdom won't go out on their own, especially not at night. And despite how much he adores her company, Bucky doesn’t want Y/N to be the next victim.

Although, if he could… Bucky would move heaven and earth, and stay by her side to make sure she’s protected.

“I assure you, Sir John, I am quite safe.” She insists, brushing off his concerns with a wave of her hand.

“You are out here, alone-“

“Bucky is here.” She snaps, her soft voice suddenly laced with anger. Even Bucky is surprised to hear it. “And I trust him.” Her words cause heat to settle on Bucky’s cheeks. Heat not caused by the fire this time.

“Well Princess, I’d still insist that you don’t wander off from your guards again.” John huffs. And then, his disapproving gaze fixes on Bucky, and his eyes narrow. “After all…who knows what trouble you could encounter?” Bucky’s stomach drops, and he tries to ignore John’s words. Yet, it’s difficult. When he said most people in the kingdom must wonder what he and Y/N could have in common… John is absolutely that sort of person. “Now, come on. Your father requests your presence at the library.”

“Sorry.” Y/N whispers, bidding Bucky goodbye with a small wave of her hand. Bucky nods, returning the wave. Yet, after Y/N leaves, John stays for a moment, continuing to walk around Bucky’s workshop in silence.

“Is there an issue, Sir John?” Bucky asks, both to break the awkward silence, and in the hopes it pushes him to leave. Scoffing, John steps closer. As his body turns, he almost flexes the royal crest on his shoulder, reminding Bucky of the power imbalance between them.

“Princess Y/N may be too kind to say it, but I am not. If I were you…I’d take some time to remember my place.” He whispers, spitting out the last word like it’s venom.

“I’ve known her since we were young, John. If she wants to see me, she has every right to.” Bucky replies, clenching his jaw. He stands tall and defensive, to show John he doesn’t care about his words. But all he’s doing is reinforcing the same things Bucky tells himself all the time.

He doesn’t fit in.

Y/N’s only being kind, and doesn’t really care about him.

The second she finds someone new, someone worthy of her status, she’ll forget about him.

“Don’t let him get to you.” He thinks. “He’s just a horrible person. Y/N cares about you, you know she does. That’s all that matters.”

“You’re just a lowly blacksmith. You don’t fit into this world.” John hisses. “The sooner you learn that, and stay away from her, the better.” And with that, he stalks out of the workshop, back to Y/N. As soon as he’s gone, Bucky sighs, his rigid, defensive posture collapsing. He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“Dammit.” He hisses, leaning against the wall as he feels tears springing to his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few weeks later, Bucky lays asleep. The early morning sun streams in, lightly warming his face as his chest slowly rises and falls, and as he hangs on to his dream world for a little while longer. For a while, everything is quiet and at peace. Until a loud shout cuts through the morning, accompanied by the sound of hooves.

“Citizens! We have an urgent message from your King. Please come to the main square as soon as possible!” The noise immediately awakens Bucky. Moaning softly to himself, he clambers out of bed and pulls on some clothes. Still half asleep, he makes his way outside and joins the crowd of people gathering in the square. Whispers fill the air about what this emergency declaration could be, whether it’s new taxes or a war with some neighbouring kingdom.

A member of the royal guard steps forward. Bucky recognises him. His name is Steve Rogers, and he’s a lot kinder to him than John ever was. Most notably, he treats him with respect, and like a human being, rather than looking at him like he’s muck on the bottom of his boot. As Steve approaches the crowd, the whispers about what this could be intensify. But in all honesty, Bucky doesn’t care. He just wants to go back to bed as soon as possible.

That is, however, until he hears the announcement.

“Last night, the beast struck again. Someone spotted it, meaning we finally have visual confirmation of what it is. It’s a dragon.” Immediately, the whispers turn into a furore. Bucky raises a brow. He had heard stories of dragons as a child, but thought they were just a myth. A cautionary tale told to remind him to behave, lest he be left outside for the dragon to find him. But Steve has more to say. “And….” He takes a breath. “It’s taken Princess Y/N.” Bucky’s heart almost stops, and his mouth drops open. For a moment, he swears he could collapse from the shock. Please, god, let this be a horrible nightmare. Please let him wake up. Why didn’t he try harder, tell her to be safer, or promise to come find him if she needed help? His chest tightens, and he gasps, trying to breathe but feeling his chest constricting. All he ever wanted to do is protect her, and he failed. “We have lived in fear for long enough. We believe we know where its cave could be, and we are sending out an army to track it down. Our mission is to rescue as many people as possible. Including the Princess.” Steve explains. “But we need more support. Are there any volunteers?”

Without another thought, Bucky steps forward. “I would like to help.” Steve smiles.

“Excellent, Mister Barnes.” And then, an all too familiar voice sounds.

“And please, tell me how you, a lowly blacksmith, intend to help the royal guard?” Sir John sneers, laughing. “Do you even have any experience with swordsmanship?” Instantly, Bucky is transported back to his workshop the last time John was there, and the embarrassment he felt at how John looked at and spoke to him creeps in once more. Now, though, it’s tenfold. Of course, Bucky isn’t stupid. He knows how this must look. He’s not a knight, much less one whose sole purpose is to keep Y/N safe. And John’s right, he’s got hardly any experience in using weapons, let alone using them to kill a giant beast like a dragon. He’s just someone who loves Y/N… and isn’t that enough?

“I want to help. I can make weapons. And I spend enough time around swords, so surely I’ll pick up sword fighting easily enough.” He explains, acutely aware of how the entire crowd is staring at him.

John glances down at Bucky’s metal arm, and scoffs. “For this mission, we require our recruits to be… fully operational, able to do whatever we need, whenever we need. I’m not sure if you’d be a suitable choice.” Right away, Bucky knows what he means, and he understands why, aside from his upbringing, John is so dead set on treating him so horribly. His arm. As if having a prosthetic makes someone any less of a hero, or prevents them from doing the right thing. Bucky’s cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and tears sting at his eyes once more. How dare he? He tried so hard, all this time, to not let John’s words affect him. But now he knows that he’s judging him and viewing him as lesser because of his disability, something he cannot control… hurts him deeply. All he wants is to save Princess Y/N. Is that so wrong?

“It’s beautiful.” Her words replay in his mind, as does the look of pride and wonder she had as she looked at it. That memory makes Bucky feel even worse. The one person who stood up for him and appreciated him has been taken, and there’s no way of knowing if she’s even still alive. And they won’t even let him help rescue her.

“Sir John. Please don’t be so rude.” Sir Steve hisses. “He obviously cares for the Princess a great deal, and I do not see why his arm makes him a lesser candidate.” Bucky breathes a small sigh of relief. At least he has Sir Steve in his corner. Sir Steve turns back to Bucky, smiling. “Thank you for volunteering, Mister Barnes. You will be a fine addition to the army.” He insists, giving John a look as if to warn him not to protest further. Yet, the look John gives Bucky strikes fear into him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few days later, the group sets off, ready to rescue the Princess and the others. Bucky glances down at the horse they gave him to ride. He’s not used to horse riding, or any part of this life. He still feels completely out of his depth. Suddenly, a memory enters his mind.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Y/N giggles, stopping in front of him. “I was out on a ride, and thought I’d come see my favourite person.” Bucky’s heart almost goes into overdrive, and his cheeks burn. “This is Chestnut.” The horse steps closer to Bucky, nuzzling into his hand slightly.

“He’s beautiful.” Bucky smiles. “I’ve never been horse riding before. Honestly, it kinda scares me a little.” He admits, but Y/N chuckles. Not mocking him, though. She never could.

“You don’t have to be afraid. It’s really quite simple when you get used to it.” Y/N laughs, letting him pet Chestnut. “I love it. But they have trained me to do this my whole life.” Bucky would love that. But to be honest, he’d love spending time with her, doing anything and everything possible. As their hands brush his coat, accidentally, their hands touch, and it sends a shockwave throughout Bucky’s entire body. So strong, so passionate that for a moment, it leaves him speechless. He registers something flickering in Y/N’s expression, and he wonders if Y/N feels the same about him. And yet, he can’t find the words to ask her, or tell her the truth.

Bucky wishes he’d asked her now, or at least admitted his feelings. Maybe he could’ve prevented this, or at least found some way to protect her. The pit of guilt and fear continues to build deep in his gut. Y/N could be anywhere, even dying, and he does not know where.

“Maybe one day I’ll teach you how to ride.” Her last words to him that day echo in his mind.

Little did either of them know, though, where they’d be now, with Bucky riding a horse to slay a dragon and save her life. Or partnering up with Sir John Walker, of all people. Thankfully for Bucky, Sir John stays up ahead, as far away from him as possible. For now, anyway. Sir Steve’s horse soon falls into place beside Bucky’s, and Bucky finally takes a moment to relax.

“Thank you Sir.” Bucky says. “For standing up for me back there.” Sir Steve chuckles.

“Not at all. And please, call me Steve.” His face falls, his lips pressed tightly together. “I apologise for Sir John’s comments. He’s….”

“A smug asshole?” Bucky finishes, and Steve laughs.

“Yes, very true.” He nods. “I know I can’t offer much solace, but you’re not the only person he dislikes and treats so cruelly. He doesn’t seem to like anyone aside from the Princess and her parents… although he usually sucks up to them.” He sighs. That doesn’t surprise Bucky in the slightest. After all, John strikes him as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to step on anyone to get what he wants, especially a position as the head of the Royal Guard. “Honestly, I relish the times when I get to put him in his place. Unfortunately, though, I can’t do much to get him removed. I know it cannot ease the way you feel, but I am glad you’re on this mission with us.”

“I want to do whatever I can to help.” Steve chuckles, and Bucky raises a brow.

“Bucky, you don’t have to pretend. I’ve seen the way you look at the Princess, and how deeply you care for her.” Bucky��s cheeks turn scarlet, and his eyes widen.

“I was-” Bucky stammers, expecting to be told off for flirting above his station. But instead, Steve smiles.

“Don’t worry. She speaks about you a lot, actually. And she cares deeply for you, too. Very deeply.” He winks, almost as if there’s something there. Something that Bucky has hoped and prayed was true for so long is true. His heart pounds, his mouth and eyes go even wider, and he blinks in surprise as he tries to think up a way to respond.

As the embarrassment and shock spreads throughout his body, another, warmer feeling grows too.

Hope.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After making camp for the night, the group set off again early the next morning. The atmosphere is more serious, as everyone knows how close they are to reaching the dragon’s cave, yet are unaware of what horror faces them there. Bucky is silent, his stomach churning with anxiety. He barely slept last night, sick with fear about Y/N and if she’s alright. When he did manage to fall asleep, he was awoken by a nightmare. Y/N was alone, screaming and crying out for him, but he couldn’t get to her in time. He knows this is just his mind and his anxieties about Y/N, but he still hopes to whatever higher power there is that this wasn’t a prophetic dream, and that Y/N is okay.

The closer they get to the cave, the trees darken with soot, their branches scorched by fire. Bucky registers the hair on the back of his neck standing up. This has somehow suddenly become more real, the fact they’re dealing with a fire blowing dragon, not just a mere mortal. Suddenly, he feels far more out of his depth. Yet, he keeps going, ready to save Princess Y/N. Unfortunately, the closer they get to the cave, the more insufferable John becomes.

“When we arrive, I’ll take charge with a group of soldiers and attack this monster head on.” He insists. “And then, I’ll bring back its head, and Princess Y/N will be in my arms.” As he and his friends whisper and laugh amongst themselves, Bucky hears the words “Surely there’ll be a royal wedding soon”, and all the things John’s sure Y/N will do to thank him for saving her life. Once more, Bucky’s stomach begins to churn. This time, though, it’s for something completely different. The way John speaks about Y/N, like she’s an object just for him to possess, makes him feel sick. Like someone as loving as her would ever want to marry someone like him.

“That plan will not work.” The words leave Bucky’s mouth before he can even stop them, and John stops, turning to face him, a brow angrily raised.

“Excuse me?” Bucky’s blood chills, but he still keeps going.

“I think it would be better if we went slower and surprised the dragon. Or at least, planned an attack first. If we all charge in on our horses, it’s going to hear us coming and attack us all before we can get too close.” John scoffs.

“Do you truly believe a blacksmith knows more than-”

“John, please.” Steve hisses, coming to Bucky’s defence once again, much to Bucky’s relief. “Let him speak.”

“Very well.” John sneers. Yet, Steve’s defence gives Bucky more confidence, and he continues.

“Like I said, if we go in too fast and loud, it’ll notice us from miles away and be ready to kill us all before we can even strike.” He explains. “I propose we wait a while until it falls asleep. That way, we can sneak up and wound it before it has the chance to fight back.” As Bucky talks through his idea, John continues to scoff and roll his eyes, muttering things under his breath. Bucky knows he probably does sound crazy to some people, not least because John’s right, he’s not a royal guard. And deep down, he doesn’t even know if this plan will work better than John’s, or at all. But that doesn’t mean he can’t point out the flaws in John’s idea. And after so long being treated like a second-class citizen by him, Bucky’s ready to take full pleasure in doing so.

“Very well. Who believes in this plan?” John asks, and some hands in the group rise, including Steve’s. “Well. You can all sit around like sitting ducks whilst we rescue the Princess and kill the beast.” He shrugs.

As they advance on the cave, Bucky begins to wonder if John may be right about this after all, if his idea is complete nonsense. But then, Y/N’s smile fills his mind once more. She always believed in him, even when nobody else would. And really, her support is all that matters to him.

Soon, they reach a clearing, the dragons’ cave a few metres ahead, and the group takes shelter to prepare themselves. Most stay back with Bucky, following his advice and getting ready to plan their attack. Meanwhile, John and his followers get ready to charge. “See you at the wedding.” John whispers to Bucky, smirking down at him from his horse. Bucky refrains from punching him in the face.

As John’s group charges in, Bucky and the others wait for any noise or movement. Within seconds, a roar fills the air… as does the sound of screaming. Horrible, anguished screams that chill Bucky’s entire body, the likes of which Bucky has never heard before. He also registers the sound of horse hooves, of people desperately trying to get away… but another roar sounds, and they soon stop.

“God….” Steve gasps as the agonising screams continue. Bucky tries to cover his ears, wanting the noises to stop, but they keep going. It’s suddenly very obvious what’s happened to John and the others. And what could happen to Bucky and the others if they don’t time their attack exactly right.

He looks around the group, each of the men staring back at him, their bodies shaking and mouths wide open with fear. Even Steve looks horrified, his face pale and panicked. They look at him, seeking reassurance that this won't happen to them. And Bucky doesn’t even know what he can say.

Soon, the screaming stops. And once more, the clearing is silent.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nightfall comes quicker than Bucky would’ve liked, but he also uses the time to refine his plan. Despite the fear still coursing through his veins, he’s determined to kill this beast and save Y/N, whatever the cost. Including the loss of his life.

“So. What shall we do?” Steve asks.

“I’m going in there.” He tells the others. “Myself.” The others protest, but Bucky shakes his head. “No. I don’t want people to get hurt, like last time. You go rescue the others. This is my plan, and I should be the one to go into danger.”

“But you can’t go alone-”

“Yes, I am. Trust me, please.” Bucky hisses. Sighing and clenching his jaw, Steve nods.

“Okay. But if you need any support, we’re helping, alright?”

When Bucky enters the cave, he’s suddenly aware of how much colder it is. He steps closer inside, trying to calm his nerves. He notices a small orange glow down the tunnel, and he follows it, knowing it’ll either lead him to the dragon, or to Y/N. With each step, his heart pounds faster and faster, and he braces himself for whatever he’s about to see. When he rounds the corner, he sees the dragon, curled up and asleep by the fire. As he stares at the beast, one much larger than he expected, he remembers all the stories he was told growing up. Of the brave knights and princes who saved the princesses from the vicious beast. He used to imagine himself like that, as a hero.

Now that he’s here, staring down the dragon all alone… it’s different. And he doesn’t feel much like a hero at all. In fact, he’s terrified.

But Bucky knows what he has to do. He grabs his sword and stabs the dragon in its side. Immediately, it awakens, roaring in pain. As it clambers up, its tail swinging wildly, Bucky ducks underneath it, striking the dragon a few more times as he does so. The dragon readies its tail once more, and Bucky jumps up, clambering onto its body. It jolts, trying to throw him off, but he keeps a grasp on its wing, holding on for dear life. The dragon runs out of the cave, trying to escape him or at least find somewhere to fight. Bucky braces himself… and strikes the beast once more, this time deep in the chest.

With one final, earth shattering screech, the dragon’s body jolts, throwing Bucky clear. He lands hard, hitting his head against the ground, which dazes him for a few seconds. Despite the pain, the last of Bucky’s adrenaline continues to flow through his veins, and he gets back up again… albeit a little more unsteady on his feet. The dragon’s tail clips him a few times, but Bucky still moves forward, raising his sword and striking the dragon a few more times. His hits do not go as deep as his previous ones, yet the beast still roars out in pain. As it staggers away, Bucky tries to follow behind, but by now, the adrenaline is starting to wane, and his head is beginning to hurt.

Yet, as Bucky falls to his knees, about to pass out, he persists. By now, he’s too weak to stand, and instead tries to crawl after the dragon. But he’s too unsteady, and collapses in a heap a few times. Each time, he gets back up, ready to keep going. Until he’s too weak to even stand.

“Bucky…” Y/N’s soft whisper enters his mind. “You have to get up. You have to help me.”

“Y/N…” He murmurs. Even though he knows this is just a hallucination, one caused by his injuries, he can still feel her whisper against his skin, and her hand cupping his cheek.

“Help me. Please.” With one last push, Bucky pulls himself up. But he’s still too weak, and he collapses to his knees once more. And this time, he just wants to go to sleep.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He sighs as the world starts to fade away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Some time later, Bucky comes to. He registers soft blankets and pillows surrounding him, and for a moment he wonders if he’s back home, his moment of heroism little more than a dream. Yet when he opens his eyes, wincing a little at the sudden bright lights, Steve is staring back at him.

“Good afternoon.” He chuckles. “Don’t sit up too quickly. The palace doctor said you’re still pretty concussed, so you’re on bedrest for a while.” Slowly, everything sinks in. Palace doctor. Steve. It’s real. He really fought a dragon. But that means….

“Y/N.” Bucky gasps. Despite Steve’s instruction, he tries to get out of bed. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Princess Y/N is fine.” Steve reassures him. “She had a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing too serious. She’s resumed her royal duties.” Bucky lets out a breath, an immense relief finally off his shoulders.

“Thank the gods.” He smiles.

“And,” Steve continues. “You killed the dragon and saved everyone still trapped in the cave.”

“I…I did?” Bucky gasps, still in disbelief. Still wondering if this is a dream. Steve chuckles, and nods.

“You’re a hero, Bucky.” Before Bucky can say anything more, hurried footsteps echo down the hallway. The door bursts open, and Princess Y/N rushes in.

“Bucky!” she gasps, almost launching herself onto his bed.

“Princess, wait! You’re both still injured-” But Y/N doesn’t even listen to Steve’s words. She wraps her arms around Bucky, pulling him close to her. Despite the pain, Bucky has never been so happy to see her, or to be holding her again. She begins crying, and her body shakes.

“You saved me….” She sniffles. “I thought I’d never see you again, or make it out alive. You saved me.” As she cries, Bucky continues to hold her, stroking her back to comfort her.

“I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Because of you, Bucky.” She sniffles. “Because of you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As soon as Bucky is out of the palace infirmary, Y/N’s parents hold a ceremony to thank him for saving the others, including their daughter, and for killing the dragon. Bucky stands beside Steve, dressed in the royal guard’s uniform. Since his rescue mission, Y/N has personally asked that he be appointed as her personal bodyguard, something Bucky is honoured to do.

“This thing is kind of uncomfortable.” Bucky murmurs, adjusting the neckline.

“Thankfully, we don’t have to wear it all the time, but you get used to it.” Steve laughs. “It looks good on you, though. Congratulations, Buck.” Bucky grins, standing up taller as pride fills his body. Although a part of him is still convinced that this is a dream, and that he’ll wake up alone again.

And then, Y/N enters the room, walking down the aisle towards them both. She’s dressed immaculately in her full royal attire, crown perched upon her head. She looks gorgeous, like an angel. As she approaches Bucky, her face beaming, he blushes. Bucky bows, and Y/N lifts her sword, resting it on each shoulder.

“I dub thee Sir Bucky Barnes. The new knight of the realm, and my honoured protector.” She calls, and the crowd applauds.

Later, after the ceremony, Bucky finds Y/N standing on the balcony outside her room. “Shouldn’t you be inside enjoying your party?” She asks, chuckling.

“I wanted to check up on you. We’ve both been through a lot in the past couple of days, to say the least.” Y/N nods. Although she hasn’t spoken too much about what she went through, Bucky knows it can’t have been good. But he wants her to know that he’ll make sure that she’ll never be afraid or alone ever again.

“Thank you for saving my life, Bucky. I could tell you that every day for the rest of my life and it would still never be enough.” Bucky shrugs.

“You saved my life too, Y/N. All those years ago, when you got the palace doctor to see me.” Y/N nods, chuckling.

“I guess we saved each other, then.” As the pair laugh together, Y/N steps closer. “Bucky?” She whispers. Before he can even reply, she reaches up, cupping his face in her hands. In an instant, Bucky knows exactly what she means. “I love you. I have for the longest time.” She gasps. Quickly, she pulls him closer, placing her lips on his in a soft, yet passionate, kiss. Bucky places his hands on her waist, deepening the kiss. The kiss is somehow even better than he imagined it. When they pull apart from each other, Y/N is beaming once more. “Wow…that was incredible.” She gasps.

“I love you too.” Bucky admits. “I was just too scared to tell you the truth because I was afraid, and I thought I didn’t fit into your world because you’re… you’re you, and I was just a blacksmith and-”

“Bucky.” Y/N chuckles, stopping his rambling. “I never cared about our different classes. To me, you’re just Bucky. You’re the most caring person I know, and you make me smile, even on my worst days. And of course, you saved my life. I love you.” She repeats, pecking his lips again, and Bucky smiles.

“I love hearing you say that.”

“Well, I’ll tell you that every day for the rest of my life.” She grins.

“Are there any rules about a Princess dating her bodyguard?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She giggles. “And besides, even if there were… I think I’d be able to change them.” Grinning, Bucky pulls her in for another kiss.

THE END.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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floredaqueen · 5 months

Text

💋Besos Castos💋

Part 2 to Curiosity at First Sight!

Billy Hargrove X Isabela Wheeler (OC)

Strangers - Friends - Lovers

♡

⚠️WARNING(S)⚠️: Suggestive Writing, Cursing, Bad/Graphic Writing, Billy Hargrove being Billy Hargrove, 18+ MINORS DNI, Mentions of Sexual Activities, Sexual Inuendos, I'm not good at writing :>

♡

...

It was a normal rest of the week... that is if Isabela could count the unsettling feeling of a specific pair of ocean blue eyes boring into her soul every time she sat in Algebra class normal. Those gorgeous blue hues belonged to the new guy, Billy Hargrove. So far, he was already stealing Steve Harrington's spot as the King... whatever that was supposed to mean. Guys wanted to be him. He was inching closer and closer to the team captain spot on the basketball team. Girls wanted to be with him, and Isa could see why.. she kind of did, too. The way Hargrove would smile mischievously at the other girls against their lockers, hover over them while speaking a soft whisper of all the things he could do to them. Not only that, but he was already making out with a few in the halls.

Isabela would catch herself gazing sometimes, watching the pretty boy's cheeky smile persist as he talked up the girls who fancied him. Her doe brown eyes would also glance at the hungry kisses he'd give them, forcing herself to put the thought of it being her his hands gripped around while their lips locked in the far back of her mind. Although, she couldn't stop picturing the images of him taking their breath away, shoving his tongue in their mouth, and even his lips sloppily trailing to their jaw and neck. It was a sight to see.. like two wild animals in their natural habitat. Still, Isa kept herself focused and mostly unbothered. The more she did that, the easier it was to avoid him.. until Calculus. They had two classes with one another, but she would always hide behind the bleachers. The guys were out and playing basketball. Other than that, math was the only time she was caught out like a deer in the headlights.

As the week passed, the Guatemalan girl found a rhythm, coming to school, finding time for her friends and academics while also completely avoiding any eye contact with the dirty blonde whore she sat next to 2 times a day. In those 45 to 50 minutes, Hargrove takes his sweet time trying to get her to notice him. The first time, he just tapped on her shoulder. Isa would look over to the side, her eyes finding his blinding smile and wandering eyes. Although, when he tried to introduce himself, she had already turned back around, flipping her hair right behind her before tuning in to the daily math lesson. This would persist for the rest of the week. He'd keep tapping her shoulder, pull her chair back against his own desk, and his tight grip would even find its way to her dark brown locks only to pull at them, not a second later. And every time, she'd look back at him with a look. Irritated, annoyed, and/or pissed. It was one of those, but Billy couldn't tell which one.. he didn't care either. To him, any attention was good attention from her, just to see her pretty face turn to him, to see her nose scrunch up when she got upset, or even see her flip the bird to him. She was feisty as hell, and that made him want to keep chasing...

Then she'd flee. She felt stupid for her behavior sometimes, wanting to give him a chance. At the same time, something could go wrong. She'd overhear talk about the relationships her friends would have and how if the guy was too pretty, he'd be unattainable, especially in high school. The guy would hop from girl to girl. While she was tempted to be one of those girls, the timid girl was looking for something a lot more long-lasting. So every time, the adopted Wheeler would turn away or pretend like she didn't hear him whenever Billy tried to make any advances.

Today, though, was different.

Isa was jotting down notes on the board, putting them in a particular neat way before she felt a tap on her shoulder. I'm routine, the Latina looked to the side she was tapped on, annoyed, meeting eyes with the new infamous pretty boy. As her doe eyes did their best to keep steady one his, Billy's oscar winning smile appeared while taking in her features thoughtfully. God, was she cute. With the way she presented herself, she must know it. It was a few seconds before he began.

"Hey, do you understand this question?" He asked, leaning over to her to point to the 5th question on their worksheet. When he did, she got a whiff of his cologne, her cheeks tiniting a soft pink because he smelled of a fresh ocean breeze.. and a new car? It was soothing apart from the hint of a cigarette smell around. She examined the specific equation, scooting closer to him in habit when helping others. In turn, his eyes focused on her concentration. Considering she had already finished her own assignment, Billy had an inkling that Isabela was good at this type of work. Her eyes glanced up to meet his again, only for her to blink away as she spoke.

"You have to use the unit circle method before using the other formula to find the final equation," the studious girl explained, tapping her pencil nervously to the glossy wooden finish of her desk.

"Okay.. how do I do the unit thing again?" Billy's question had Isa's right eye twitching. He really wasn't listening in class, which was super annoying, considering it was only causing confusion. Shaking her head, Isa pulled out a fresh piece of notebook paper. Billy watched slightly disoriended as the quiet girl began doodling a quick "how to" on the notebook paper and handing it to him. For once, he understood what he was doing in this shitty class. Isa cut it down into pieces for him on this piece of paper, and so he continued to use her formula before handing his own worksheet to her. She checked it, nodded to him and handed it back.

It was a simple interaction. Something she was personally proud she got through without anything going south. Soon enough, the bell rang throughout the school, the young woman grabbing her bag and confidently leaving the classroom as quick as she usually did. He was contemplating running after her, but instead walked up to the group of guys that seemed to follow him into almost every party he's crashedso far. He listened for a bit, leaning up against the lockers before his eyes settled on a certain girl with long chestnut hair. Soon the conversation he was listening to was muffled as he not-so-secretly peered at Isa while she gathered her things for her next class.

"What do you guys know about, that girl over there?" Billy pointed to her, Tommy looking over at Isa before a smirk came to his face.

"Oh, Isa? I think she's like Mexican or something like that- She's super hot, but she's a nerd.She doesn't even talk much, at least not to guys. Nancy, Nova, Chrissy, Chelsea, and Rex are the only people she talks to in and outside of school." Tommy explains, Hargrove listening while his vision was glued to the girl they were speaking about. He had half the mind to ask him why the hell he knew so much about her, but he didn't. Soon, Nancy and Nova walked up to the hispanic scholar, watching her lips move while trying to make out why they were saying. Soon enough, his focus is on Nancy and her when he turned back to Hagan.

"Isn't she a Wheeler?" Billy asks, crossing his arms as he gets more comfortable against the metal doors behind him.

"She's adopted. A total charity case.. 'though it definitely wasn't a bad idea," Tommy's eyes followed Isa's polyester clad ass as she shut the door and walked off. She could feel the eyes, the heat of embarrassment rushing to her face and causing her to walk faster. Billy found himself mindlessly watching her hips sway back and forth, her foreign curves excentuated in her form-fitting pink tee and colorful maxi skirt. He wasn't even a foot guy, but he couldn't help by appreciate the way her sandals made them look even more dainty and smooth. There was a word for someone like her that the new king couldn't quite figure out yet.

♡

The next day after Calculus, Isa was once again at her locker, it being a routine at this point. Her right hand reached into the small metal compartment to reach one of her notebooks. As Isabela turned to peak into her bag, she was startled, Billy Hargrove standing in the only space she had. She jumped and groaned in annoyance at his quiet stature. He was hovering, Isabela eyes struggling to stay steady on his.

"What do you want, Billy?!" The timid girl pressed herself against the lockers away from him. She assumed he came over here to ask her something. Whatever it was, she was intent on saying n-

"Can you tutor me in Calculus?" He asked, his confident demeanor at a low simmer as he asked. She hesitated, curling inside herself more but standing her ground.

"Why should I..?" Isa's left eyebrow raised, and the nervous girl blinked a few times so her face wouldn't heat up.

"C'mon, it'll only be a couple of times," He continued, watching as the shy girl barely kept her cool. He could tell he was getting under her skin. His hands subconsciously hovered over those voluptuous hips of hers but settled on his own instead. One of his hands rested itself on the metal beside her head, completely trapping her.

"Hell, you know I need the extra help,"Once she shook her head, he rolled his eyes, and a groan escaped him that Isa's spine shiver. Her head turned away, a soft pout coming to her cute face.. then his face got really close, feeling the slight heat of his breath against her ear. That seemed to have no problem heating her up, the Guatemalan going as far back in her shell as she could, but it wasn't working. Hargrove already got Isa where he wanted her.

"Pleeease~?" He pleaded hotly, his voice entering a lower register as that stupid smirk of his curling on his lips as his blue hues longed on her ever blushing cheeks. If she had the right mind to push him away and flee, she would, but at the moment, she was considering it. She didn't mind helping him with his education.. and God was he handsome. Handsome enough to have you mentally laying out the pros and cons of the situation. Pro: You had the upper hand on where to hold the study session. Con: It had to be public, or he'd most likely start aggressively flirting. Pro: She'd tell him her rules of tutoring, hoping he would abide by them. Con: He wouldn't do that at all.

"...I'll think about it," Isa muttered in that voice she'd use sometimes when she wasn't sure about something. The Latina girl would turn back to her locker, only to shut it quickly before booking it to her next class. It was English, so she had finished her work fairly early, which gave her more time to think about it. Another pro: it could be fun. Another con: he might not even pay attention to her because he's just interested in getting into her pants. Another pro: she could actually help him learn something important, and maybe he'd feel more confident in his academic abilities. Another con: He'd get bored with her and leave. Another pro: Maybe they could have fun, and she'd be able to see that smile on his face again. She kept tally on a loose sheet of notebook paper, coming up with more pros than cons.. albeit as biased as they were.

♡

Later that day, Isabela made up her mind, forcefully dragging herself over to a table a group of boys sat at during lunch time. There, Billy sat, stuffing his face with fries and whatever else was on his tray. That was the first time she's ever seen him eat. It was good to know that he did. She wasn't sure, considering all she saw was him putting a cigarette to his lips.

"Hargrove!" The smart girl called out to him, his head sharply rising to see her eyes nervously meeting his. Once she was close enough, she handed him a sticky note. It had the address of the Wheeler residence on it, her eyes looking away from his when he looked back at her.

"My house at five-thirty. Don't forget!" Billy's grin appeared, his eyes half lidded as he chewed on a couple of seasoned sweet potato fries. He shrugged, then nodded. Isa nodded in return, wanting to leave as quickly as she got there.

"Bye," Isa trailed off as she turned away, almost leaving skid marks behind with how quick she was walking. It had the pretty blonde smiling hard, his boy's casually cheering and egging him on while his eyes remained on her until she was no longer in his vision. For the rest of the day, Billy's mind was clouded with thoughts of Isabela, so much so that he stopped a sloppy, hot make-out session with Tina Kingston mid way just so he wouldn't be late for their tutoring session.

Tina was one of the hottest girls in school, aside from Rebecca, Nova, and Chrissy. Most guys barely had a real chance with them, but with Tina hanging on his trail, Billy couldn't pass up a chance to taste something close to heaven.. Heaven was something Billy believed to be somewhere else, like at the Wheeler's house. It wasn't long 'til Tina was kicked out of his car, her scoffing and cursing being shadowed by the rev of his engine as he drove off. He's never been on time for something in a long time, Isa hearing his loud engine at the end of the road of the parking lot. The foster Wheeler looking at the clock on the wall. It was 4:25 p.m.

Isabela sat out the fruit bowl she made for him five minutes ago onto the dining room table. She rushed herself to the front door, although the scholar waited for him to knock on the door. When he did, she opened the door a few seconds later, greeting him with a nod before leaving the door open only for Billy to shut it once he entered.

"Just put your things on the table and we can get started," She spoke as she went upstairs to grab her own work a clean worksheet she took to work on with him before leaving class.

While she was upstairs, Billy took in the environment. It was warmly lit and smelled like fresh raspberry and sweet cinnamon. It explained why she smelled so good every time he got close to her. It was clean as well, the tiled floor shiny, and the carpet away the couches vacuumed and sprayed down. The pillows on the sofa were neat and the only thing on the round table were two bowls of cut fruit. She made that for him while she waited? Billy sat down, setting his work onto the table along with a pencil before taking a bite of a piece of green apple that was in his bowl. His ears focused on the sound of her coming back down, turning himself in the chair.

"What's up with the fruit?" He asked, just wanting to see what she'd say about it. Isa pouted at the immediate hard time she was having.

"Well, you're eating it, aren't you?" She'd rebuttal, setting her own work down on the table. Already she could tell this was going to be an interesting few hours. She could see the smug look on Billy's face at the corner of her eye.

"I'm not the type to pass up free food. Why'd you make it?"

Isa bit her lip, shrugging as she thought what to say other than 'Because I wanted to make it for you,'. Out of kindness, out of her crush for him, out of he'd notice both, which he definitely could sense. Instead though, what came out of her mouth was,

"Fruit is good brain food.. also, you had lunch at one, so I thought you'd want a snack or something," Isa confessed, sitting down only for her eyes to meet his suggestive ones. His smile was genuine, appreciative of her little gesture to him.

Soon enough, the tutoring started, Isa's were carefully curated as she broke her notes down to the infuriating charming Billy Hargrove. His eyes never looked away from her, except for when he was told to focus on the problem at hand. Her teaching was the most easy-to-understand instructions he's ever had, and she's not even a teacher. Billy had felt relieved to get the material down finally. He was ready to call it quits and fail the class, although Isabela had reminded him that he needed this credit to graduate, and so he was here, studying.. wishing he was doing something else with her that required a bit of a workout.

"How come we can't go up to your room?" He'd ask, Isa snapping towards him in aw. Did he really just ask her that? Did that just come out of his mouth? It did. He was curious about it, usually being able to finesse himself in a girl's bedroom to snoop. He was definitely the type to find himself going through a girl's diary for kicks.

"Because it's my bedroom.." She looked over at him, her statement almost posed as a question. Billy grinned playfully, watching the heat rise up in her cheeks. He scoffed, leaning in to continue his flirtatious ways.

"You afraid I'll find the love letters you made for me?" He'd tease, his irritating smirk persisting as Isa held eye contact with him. She was struggling, though, her eyes wanting to divert back to her homework, she was already done with. While she was done, she still retreated to her finished work, going over her answers while avoiding Billy's goregous, lidded hues.

In time, the sweet hispanic gal once again felt the exasperating presence of the handsome bad boy. Isa felt light traces from the eraser part of his pencil stroking itself up and down her arm. Jesus, can't this guy just concentrate?? The young woman flinched, turning to snatch the wooden graphite piece out of his hand only to huff frustratingly at him a second later.

"Do you need help, Hargrove??" She whined, Billy biting at his pretty bottom lip teasingly in return, his eyes traveling down to her blouse. He noticed something about it as he took his quick peak. She wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples gentle peering out. They weren't big, nor were they small either, but they were perky enough to have dirty blonde horndog's mind racing with thoughts it groping them while whispering sweet nothings to the latina.

"Not with my homework, no," His hand gripped around her face gently, pulling her in while scooting himself closer. Isa feels the heat rush to her cheeks, his digits ribbing into her smooth side.

"Sweetness, the only thing I need is your attention," He cooed to her, her face flaring up more and more as he seemed to get closer and closer. She'd flee again, her heart beating so fast she thought she was gonna pass out. Billy'd whine a bit, leaning over her seat as she anxiously grabbed all of her things.

"Listen.. I-I'm glad I could help you out, but-"

"Isa, wait-" but it was already too late. Isa was already hurrying herself. Once she had made up her mind, she wouldn't turn back.

"But, if you don't need anything else, please leave. Have a good night!" And she takes her stuff and quickly woddles upstairs to her room. Billy sighed, shaking his head while leaning it near the table. He ate the last of what was left in his fruit bowl before taking the hint, grabbing his own things, and heading for the door. He turned back, looking near up the stairs where the pretty girl was hiding... his pretty girl. Sooner or later, that was gonna be her title.

♡

The next day, the popular bad boy was surrounded by his usual crowd. That day, he was sporting his denim jacket with a white tee, which hugged his Adonis physique perfectly. It had girls drooling as he walked by, Tommy H. and Jason Carver on either border of him alongside a few other dudes. While the other boys talked of sex, booze, parties, and basketball, Billy's mind was on something else. His head rang the sound of Isabela's voice, the image of her soft, plump lips, long goregous hair, sweet doe eyes, warm hands, pretty tits--

Although his fantasies were interrupted shortly after he made it to his locker, Tommy asking about something. Billy snapped his view to the asshole, giving him a look of confusion.

"The hell are you on about, Hagan?" He'd question, Carver rolling his eyes.

"We just wanted to know how your 'study session' went?" Carter explained, a smug look on his pale face as he took to question his 'friend's sneaky whereabouts. Billy looked back at him, glad he was able to put his thoughts back on the pretty hispanic scholar who did her best to tutor him.

"It was fine." Billy lied, obviously hiding a whole bunch of details from last night. He decided he'd like to keep what happened to himself.. even though the truth was nothing happened. He scared her away and shoved her back into her well-kept turtle shell. Plus, he enjoyed their speculating. It was entertaining.

"Wait, you had it with Isa, right?" Tommy remembered, looking over to Carter with a little smirk. They both giggled boyishly, Tommy shoving his hands in his pockets while Carter tapped on Hargrove's denim clad shoulder.

"God, I just know she'd look so hot begging," Hagan imagined, sighing like the lover boy he wasn't. Billy was, though, now thinking of the soft peeps that would escape her as he grabbed her every way. Whatever way it was, he was certain it was going to be near her. It was nice thought. The popular boy was soon interrupted once again by his sheep's words, looking back at Carter when he spoke.

"What the hell did you say?" Billy's tone was low and fierce, but calm as if he was ready to strike under any sort of pressure. Unfortunately, Jason didn't pick up on his quick irritation.

"I said, 'How long did it take her to spread her legs?' I gotta know man-" Billy scoffed, that domineering smile coming to his face as her turned to completely face the younger basketball player. He even chuckled a bit, but his anger was boiling under the playful surface that was his own misconception.

"I don't know, Jason. How long would it take for your legs to spread when I shove a pool stick up your ass? How about we find that out, yeah?" The charming smile of Billy's remained on his face for a long moment before he eyes deadpanned and his curved lips flattened. He was dead serious. Jason knew it too as he backed up, his hands raising in a surrendering position.

"Alright, man. Jesus," He backed off real quick, Billy turning back to his locker to grav his things before slamming the metal door and heading towards Isabela's locker.

There she stood, the prideful whore finding the sweet girl at her locker. He noted the cotton thin, long sleeve, cropped pink shirt she was wearing. He also noted those nice jean shorts that looked let they were barely holding on to that ass of hers. Did she work out, or was she just naturally gifted with those curves around her torso and the perfectly quafted muscles on her thighs and lower legs? Soon enough, he was behind her, the hair standing up on the back of her neck as she turned to meet his eyes. She just winced, his face so close to hers, but his eyes diverted to her lips. His expression was eager, yet concentrated as if he was holding himself back.

"God, Billy! You scared me," Isa huffed breathlessly, him seemingly taking in her immediate flustered state as his presence. He chuckled in view of it, a soft pout coming to her pretty face.

"My bad, sweetness. 'Just wanted to know if we're still on for today?" Billy would suggest, Isa rolling her eyes almost immediately at his usual flirtation.

"Don't call me that," She spat before shutting her locker.

"Okay, Sugar–"

"Don't call me that either"

"Whatever floats your boat, Babydol–"

"¡¡Dios mío!! I have a name, y'know! A-And It would do you some good to use it.." And as she turned, he'd meet her halfway, standing in front of her whole turning uo his charm meter ten times as much. It was obvious he wasn't a very serious guy, even when he was trying to be serious.

"Isa, listen, I just need to know if you want to tutor me today..?" Isa knew he wouldn't admit it, but Billy was pleading at this point. It might be small, but he was so used to getting what he wanted. He wasn't one for desperate measures, but he liked her.. a lot. Soon enough, he got to her, Isabela sighing softly before glancing up at Billy again. Gosh, he really was persuasive.

"...Don't be late, okay?" She spoke softly, exchanging her notebooks for her previous class for others. Out the corner of her eye, Isa could see the grin on Billy's pretty face. Even if it was for just a moment, the young woman felt her face heat up a bit. She wasn't used to it, and whether she admitted it or not, Isa couldn't deny the obvious feelings she had for Billy either.

Once again, it was 4:15 I'm the afternoon, and once again, Billy found himself sucking face with some other pretty girl to take his mind off of Isabela. Although he couldn't this time, this time all he could do was picture her . Her big does eyes, her flustered expression whenever he got a rise out of her, how soft her hands were, how tight her shirts were. Even if he couldn't see much, he could see enough. He subconsciously pictured it was her lips he was planting kisses on , and it was her soaking wet core he was plunging himself into.

It took all of five minutes for him to finish, the pretty girl under him moaning with him before giggling. Billy was just panting, pulling himself out and quickly buckling his pants again. Immediately when she began to speak, the popular pretty boy kicked his distraction out, the revv of tuning out her cursing as he drove away. He took a shortcut to make sure he wasn't late, looking around his Camaro to see if he could find his spare cologne to freshen up with.

By the time he knocked on the door, Isa had brought out the strawberry cream cheese she had hid from Mike, as well as the two bagels that were left in the pantry. The timid Latina had just finished cutting one of the apples she had bought yesterday after their session when she heard the doorbell ring. She almost ran to get it, opening it quickly only to be met with the heavily smell of cologne overriding the smell of sex as Billy practically forced himself inside.

Billy himself attempted to ignore that he smelled like a good rutting, sitting himself down at the table with her only for her to get started on her work. Today was easier, Billy finding his way through a couple of mathematical obstacles and even jotting down notes. He'd continue his silent, flirting, stealing glances of the girl beside him. How thick her eye lashes were when she blinked and how defined the curls of her coffee brown locks. He admired her look of determination to understand and comprehend oamrthing she wont ever need in her life.. like ever. Billy continued to gaze at the petite young scholar while she worked and bit on the end of her pencil..

"So how was it..?" Isabela question, her eyes still glued to her paper filled with equations. Billy's expression turned puzzled, his jawline sharpening itself while he slowly raised his perfectly quafted eyebrow.

"How was what?" He slightly scrutinized, her gorgeous, siren blues zooming in on the way she but her cheek.

"The girl you were almost late for. Was she any good? You still smell like her.." Yes, it was obvious! She couldn't help but think about it, the scent of cheap lavender and the thought of him.. getting his rocks off while she was preparing a colorful snack for him. It made her head pound and her stomach turn in.. greed.

Greed for the way he looks at her when she's not looking or when she's looking directly at him. Greed for his hands hovering over her hips before desperately wanting to touch them. Greed for the raunchy flirting, the pleading, the succumbing to his effortless charm, the surrendering to her blatant kindness. Isabela thought what they had was raw and filled with potential.. and he had to throw away with a quick fuck before he even got here.

"And that's any of your business because–"

"Because it would be great if you didn't come in here smelling like a brothel," She'd say roughly, Billy paying it no mind to the Latina's snappy attitude. He only responded with a chuckle and his usual response to a girl getting pissed at his slightly reckless antics.

"It comes with the territory, sweetness." He'd coo, leaning in only for her to get another whiff of wooden apple and hot, sweaty sex. The frustration in her eyes was very telling. All of her skin flushed the more she thought about it. The more she wished she was the one who wrinkled his shirt, and the one to be kissed dumb, and the one to be manhandled with such passion.. but she never wanted it to be once...

...

...But— but she never wanted it to be just once, and she never wanted to be one of Billy's girls. Her hands sweated and her cheeks burned at the thought of being Billy's girl.. Billy's only girl. It was a stretch, a shark jump even, but she was an 18 year old girl with hopes and dreams.. and the hopes and dreams were stubborn and vivid and goddamn delectable.

"Break! We need a break.."

When Isabela had realized her face visibly red, she stood, exhaling hotly before hastily walking around back to the kitchen counter. All the while, she was silently cursing herself, trying to regain focus instead of feeling like she wasn't worthy. She wasn't the one who was supposed to be feeling like that. It was supposed to be the son of a bitch who was sitting at the dining table and gazing knowingly at her. As if Billy knew her feelings, as if he knew what she yearned for. He was just dangling the goddamn carrot in her cute, doe eyed face.. and it hurt.

What Isa didn't know was that Billy did know.. he knew deep down. He knew she wanted to, but he didn't know why he kept stopping herself. He knew she was too good for him, but that never stopped him before. That never stumped his drive to get see it to the end. It wouldn't stop him now either. He stood from his seat, pulling off his denim jack only to show off that goregous Adonis physique Isa knew he loved to show off. It was paying off.

"Need any help?" He'd suggest through that sweet, promising smile that he's shown to her once or twice. It always got her hopes up about him and his motives.. and if he actually liked her. Isabela shook her head, finishing up the slicing and dicing of a green apple in the eighths. Soon, she placed the bagel smeared with hazel nut and cocoa spread with a few apple slices on top and the side of a plastic plate. She handed the plate to him soon after before making her own plate. He stood still though, finding time to make his move while she was distracted by her own thoughts.

Suddenly, his being was behind hers, Billy slightly scoffing at the immediate tense up he could feel from Isa. His hands gently gripped at the skin of her wrists, Isa instinctively stopping her rushed plating, only to feel his smokey breath against her jawline and neck.

"Either you move aside, and let me help, or have to force you back to the table.."

...That.. she wasn't expecting that. She wasn't expecting his want to help or him even pushing himself to do so. Isabela was quick to move, Billy amused as he ogled strutting her cute butt to the other side of the island counter. Her arms crossed against her chest, her cheeks puffed out and her full bottom lip pouted as she frowned. She watched him finish up her plate, even going as far as to place some of the slices strategically on her spread.

"I don't like this" She didn't like it.. she loved it.

"Yeah, yeah.. and your scrutiny is very effective," Billy knew she liked it. He knew she liked being helped, and flirted with, and looked at like she was something.. she was something. That's what Hargrove thought.

"Hurry up. I don't like this.." She turned back to the dining table, feeling the ocean eyes behind her admiring her back side. She mean mugged him in response, getting flustered at his cheeky, and quite frankly charming, response.

. . .

After they had eaten their snack, things started to lighten up. Isabela and Billy had continued their tutor session, the Guatemalan girl giving him notes and suggestions while the pretty boy simultaneously made jokes in return. Isa of course didn't listen to most of them, but she did laugh at one.

She laughed. It was a cute laugh. Squeaky and light, and enough to make the pride in his stomach swell. He leaned in a bit close, his tongue brushing against her teeth.

"Ah, I finally got one outta ya," He'd gloat, slightly kicking himself with how easily he was fawning for that sweet smile. He's never felt like this before.. jesus, he could gawk at the curling of her plump lips anytime of the week.

"Yeah, well don't get used to it.." She huffed, shaking off her laugh and attempting to turn back to her work.

"But your laugh is cute, I should make you laugh more often." Suddenly, it was agonzing to keep eye contact with Billy. He must've known his was pouring a thousand sultry poems into her soul. Her face was burning. She was definitely giving herself away. His smile didn't help either. He got closer.

"There are a lot of things I'd like to make you do.." Her arms crossed again at his mild attempt at seduction.. it was working.

"Like what..?" She questioned, Billy's smirk persisted.

"Oh don't ask me that idea tell ya.. well," their lips are only an inch away from yours.

"How about I show you..?" She could feel the heat from her cheeks, as he moved close, his lips lingering over hers for a moment. Isa attempted to back out..

"Billy, that's not–" He didn't even fathom the thought of listening to her after that, closing the very small gap between them and melting into the whimpers and peeps Isa was giving off. He grunted against her soft lips, feeling her hands grip his thinly clothed bicep and watch ridden wrist. Billy noted that she tasted of peaches and the hazelnut chocolate spread she just had. Billy on the other hand was an "aquired taste", Isa savoring the taste of a smokey bagel and a hint of.. mint?

For a second, Isa practically dissolved, the warmth of his mouth and tongue blurring her thoughts. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered with desire as he attempted to pull her closer.. then she realized this was exactly what she was trying to avoid. The needy kiss only lasted for a second, but even then, that second, she was plotting her their house plan and a trip to California.

The next second, Isabela was realizing how hard she was falling for the guy over a kiss. And so the absurdity of the situation hit her over the head with a brick.

She pulled away, hysterically getting up and grabbing her things.

"You need to leave," Isabela breathed hastily while she was booking it towards the stairs.

"Isa, where–"

"LEAVE!" She'd yell from the top of the stairs, her eyes wide in and filled with tears. Her mixed emotions frustrating her til no idea. It was silent for a moment, his bewilderment multiplying the more he went through it in his head. He charmed her up, helped her out, made her feel special.. and yet she was special. She was different. She wanted more than the others, more than just a quickie or a flirt. He couldn't put a pin on what, but he knew it was something. Eventually he did leave, Isa hearing the front door slam shut on his way out.

Billy hadn't really grasped the idea of being in an actual relationship. He thought he wasn't good enough, thought the girls only cared for one thing.. the facade he put on. The front inflated his ego and kept him feel like more than he actually did. After he'd had his fun, he'd trail right back to what he actually felt. For a very long time, Billy had felt empty, angry, heavy-hearted.. but when he's with Isabela. Billy sped through the road as his mind raced through the suspicions.. it was like she sees potential in him, to be better.. it was like she could see right through him, past all the bullshit bluffs and party personas, and whatever else he used to build this image that kept him together for so long. Hell, it had only been a few weeks, and she probably knew so much about him.

He had to approach her another way.. and as much as he hated the idea.. he had to do it, honestly.

Billy had let few weeks pass before he even thought of asking her to tutor again. Her constant avoidance of him as if he were the plague helped his plan. When Friday came around, he hoped Isa calmed down enough to at least hear him out. Throughout the entire week, Isabela had noticed something crucial that's heightened her desires. He didn't fraternize with other girls.. at least for the last 6 days. Not that she's heard of, and she definitely would've heard of Billy's sexual escapades.

As Isabela frantically walked home, her thoughts were accumulating. She went through the effects, seeking to decipher the cause. Of course, her biases got the better of her, the heartache she was experiencing, yelling for it to be about her. . .

It was 7 p.m., Isa finishing up her studying when she heard a knock at her window. Her wide eyes wavered up to the pane, weary only for a moment considering there was a tree a bit too close to the side of her house where her bedroom was. But again, a few seconds later, after she turned her attention back to her homework, she wind of the three panged knock.

Isa slightly panicked, slowly rising from her dainty organized desk, but not before grabbing a sharp pair of scissors. Slowly, she stepped over to the pan, and her vision narrowed as she quickly put aside the curtains. When she figured out who it was, her she heaved a sigh, her hands moving to her hips.

"Billy, what the hell are you doing here? You can't be here!" She was pretentious about it, of course. Why was he here? Did he come to try again? God knows Isa definitely wasn't in the mood for more of his schemes.

"Wow, swearing does not suit you," Billy began to climb from the window and into her room. Of course, she protested the entire time, but in the same breaths, she made sure he wouldn't get hurt as well.

"Why are you here, Bil??" Isabela, her arms crossed, waiting for a response. She stood, only to watch him sit on her comforter. When her maneuvered his way through her window, she got a whiff of him, the man smelling decent enough to not stink up her whole room. Also, he was wearing that red shirt.. jesus, the way he could pull off something so simple made her want to fold right then and there.

"This is a nice mattress is real nice! Mind if I borrow it for–"

"Billy, Lo juro por Dios!!" Sensing her sincerity, Billy dropped the act, gesturing a surrender as he held his hands up.

"Alright, alright! There's no need to switch the language up on me," He'd assure her, standing up from her lavender made bed.

"Do you not like me or somethin'?"

"What?"

"You've been avoiding me for 2 weeks. I literally screamed your name across the hall."

"I-I didn't hear you,"

"Bullshit, you looked at me.." Isa could see Billy's annoyance written on his sleeve. She remembered that day, Isabela ignoring Billy and Nova immediately figuring it out what was going on. "You're avoiding him because you're infatuated with him.." She predicted, Isa completely denying it immediately after. So far the most annoying thing about Nova was that she was a hell of a reader.. which meant she was always right.

"I.."

"You–"He'd mock, stepping a little forward towards her.

"I do like you, Billy I jus-" She hesitated, still looking for the words to clarify her actions to him. He seemed like he was amused with his impact on her. Isa could feel very cheeks crimson and her palms got sweaty.

"You kissed me back," He'd state, putting it out there that she yearned for the burning passion between them just as much as he did.. if not more.

"I know... I.. want to keep doing that. I want to keep kissing you," Isa observed the growing smirk on the lone wolf in front of her.

"We can do that.."

"I want to kiss you everywhere. At the Alley, the skating rink, the Starcourt, at your house, at my house, in my room, in the backyard, in the cafeteria, in the halls, before and after classes–" She exhaled, her face hurting from how flushed it was.

"–I wanna go on dates, I wanna cook you food, and have not-so-study study sessions. I want to watch movies with you, laugh with you, be there for you. I don't wanna drive you away, but God damn it, Billy, you make me nervous! Every time you choose to be around me, my hands get clammy, my face resembles that of a tomato, stomach starts to hurt, my heart beats like I'm having a goddamn heart attack!" She paused again, watching it sink in for him.

"You're insufferable, Billy Hargrove, but I really like you... and i don't wanna be just 'one of your girls'. I wanna be.. the girl.." The smitten girl shut herself up after that, suffocating herself as she let the agony of his response sink. He didn't respond for a moment, still aiming to decipher the thought that she would even want to spend more time with him. Most girls usually just want a taste, an appetizer. Shit, Isabela wanted the full course, then the entire buffet. Whether good or bad, she'd taste it all.

Billy hasn't fathomed the thought of someone by his side for a long while, thinking that he was only good enough for a quick adrenaline rush for most people. He was the life of the party, but when the party ended, people didn't want much to do with his life. But she did. She actually wanted to get to know him.

The silence was long enough for Isa to assume his rejection, tears starting to stream down her cheeks. Thank God her hair was long enough to hide her face. She knew this was a bad idea, but she had to know. She took a step back, gesturing to her bedroom door.

"You can, uhm.. leave through the front door," Isa's voice started to break, the girl trying her hardest to hide the way her heart was sinking and at the same time rising up her throat. But instead of heading straight for the door, Billy stepped to Isa, walking slowly and letting the wait of his boots hit her carpeted floor.

"So.. I make you nervous?" Immediately, she was baffled, her cheeks heating up tenfold.

"Billy–" Isa looked away only for the rougish guy to keep her in place and against the wall. His hand went up to her chin, forcing her to look his way.

"Eyes on me," His eyes.. they were expressing something very crucial.. His answer. His answer had her folding like a deck of cards. It was enough that her entire face was betraying her, but her fingertips and ears got in the blushing mood.

"Y-you have my back to the wall here," And to top it all off, what Isabela expected to happen was thrown out the window.

"Good," Billy moved to pull down the tanktop she was wearing under her sweater, leaving her shoulder bare. He leaned down to peck at her smooth collarbone, his hand moving to her wrists to gently holding onto them as he tended to her.

The more he kissed the more passionate he got. He stayed at her shoulder blade for a moment, moving uo to her neck when she started to mutter to him. The light whimpers and whines only egged him on. Soon Isa could feel his breathe become heavy against her earthnut spread skin.

"God, you smell fucking good–" He huffed against her skin, groaning while he inched closer and closer to her lips. He kissed at her chin, then the pink of her cheek, then she corner of her soft lips.. his eyes flickered to hers, hungrily looking for her approach. Her eyes told him it was only green lights, her hazily brown hues yearning in silent response.

The dream-filled teen felt herself nod rapidly, inhaling as his goregous face got centimeters, millimeters closer than before. Then.. and only then did Isabela get to experience the true sensation of Billy's soft lips against hers, locking in complete passion and trust. It felt like the kiss went on forever, their lips tugging and pulling on one another, dancing with such rapture and animation. His calloused hands gripped at her hips, and her cocoa butter covered hands gripped at the red shirt he was prancing around in prior.

Billy seemed to have been starving for some action, Isa feeling the tug at her polyester clad waist. She let the arousing kiss go on for a little long before pulling away, warranting her over-stimulated expression and kiss bitten lips open to Billy's gaze. Somewhere in there, Hargrove could sense the overbearing hope.. then he realized he never really answered. He let his hands hover over her petite waist, thinning about the various was he could ask her out.

"You doin' anything tomorrow..?" Hed asked, immediately watching her expression straighten and light up.

"I-I'm free," Isa almost spat out her answer, she was so quick to speak. It made him chuckle, she realized how cute she was when her excitement about something blasted through. It was like a laser beam, putting a whole though his brain and making it mush while the appendage in his chest swelled.

"How 'bout I take you around town then? Buy you somethin' pretty, then show you off.. You are my girl after all," With that, Isa was smiling like she had just fulfilled her sweet tooth to its maximum capacity. It was big, silly, and it had Billy smiling too, genuinely and even more so when she embraced him. Her arms were tight around his waist, and her head snug against his chest, but the warmth she gave off was so welcoming. It had him thinking he was worthy of something that was honest and raw. As real as the sweet kisses he continued to give Isa as she walked him back downstairs and to his car.

Once he made it to his Camaro, he'd salute her off, taking a long exhale after he wanted his first person to walk back inside. It took guts to do what she did. To be able to dump her feelings, she's had for the past several weeks into his lap and hoped he'd understand. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't have cared to.. but it was her.

It was the woman who walked up to him just to accept his suggestion of tutoring him. It was the woman who took everything he threw at her. The flirting, the raunchy behavior, the way he approached her in the first place. It was the woman who took time out of her busy day to help him with his school work, make sure he understood the material, and made him all kinds of snacks so he wouldn't complain about being hungry. It was the woman who showed she cared.. through her heckling, sometimes bold statements, sudden actions, and just being there.. She was truly Billy's girl... ♡

. ♡ .

Thank you so much for reading all the through! I apologize that it took me so long to finish, but here it is! Hopefully, I'll finish the other one as well! Again, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!♡

Thank you @buckysgrace for your help finishing this.. very long fic

P.S. If you'd like to be tagged when I post the next part, please let me know in the comments!♡

#stangerthingsoc #stranger things #original character #artists on tumblr #stranger things art #original art #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x original character #oc x canon #oc x cc #oc #original character x canon character #isabela wheeler #Isabela Danielle Valentina Vasquez/Wheeler

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wuntrum · 6 months

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do you have any tips for an artist who wants to start making one off comics? i really enjoy your artistic direction and style of story telling so i’m very interested in your thoughts on it

yes, definitely!!

-read lots of comics! and a variety of them, too--both ones in the sort of genre/style you'd like to make, but also ones in completely different genres, lengths, places of origin, traditionally/indie/digitally published, simple to experimental formatting, etc

-in relation to the last one, if a comic you read really speaks to you, take some time to study some page layouts from that comic! how do the panels vary from page to page? how much space is the text taking up? what sort of "shots" (to borrow from cinematic language lol) are they using? these shouldn't be fancy, just little thumbnails, but i find it really helps. here's a few i did from a guest in the house by emily carroll

-start smalllll. its really important to build up your stamina, just like with any new sort of skill. if you wanna make a graphic novel thats 200+ pages long, you should make some comics that are 1, 20, 50 pages long and see them through to the end before taking on a super big project.

-this is related to the last point, but i think keeping your cast of characters small at first can also help build up your comic stamina. signals was the first longer comic i made, so i specifically really wanted to focus on just jeanne (and occasionally her parents and peers when they showed up)

-character sheets are helpful, but i also think the easiest way to start getting your characters drawn consistently is through actually drawing the comic! there's also gonna be panels where they look "off" or whatever, and its literally fine, i promise

-through the smaller comics, experiment with how you go about writing your story! theres no right or wrong way to write/plan out a story so, it takes some trial and error to figure out what will work best with your work flow. for me, i've found success in making a timeline of events for the story -> loosely guessing how many pages i'll need/want per section of the story -> freewriting (trying not to edit too much, just dumping all the words out) -> thumbnailing/loose sketching/editing text (all sort of happens in the same step; i find i need the layouts in front of me to understand what i need/don't need from the text i wrote) -> tight sketching -> final . but, if that flow doesn't work for you, try something else! i know a lot of comics people find success in writing a script first, with indications of page and panel-by-panel breakdowns

-take shortcuts often and without guilt. its a lot of work to make a comic! theres just a lot of drawings involved, that most people aren't gonna look at for very long! i especially recommend for infrequent/difficult things, like buildings or crowds or cars or bookcases, using some sort of 3d asset/brush to make your life easier. if you can reuse a drawing and change the crop/expression, do it!

-use some sort of tracker to track your progress on how many pages you've sketched/inked/finished. even if you don't have an external deadline, i think it's still good to give yourself some sort of timeline to work on (i recommend setting "ideal" goals and "realistic" goals, especially if you're working/still in school/etc). for signals, i used google sheets, because you can set up columns to be attached to little circle charts, so as you check off your progress, you can really easily see how much you've done/how much you have left to do (as i type this i highkey forget how i did that before, with signals, so...you might need to do some sheets experimentation to actually do this lol. but there's probably other trackers you can use too)

-understanding comics and making comics by scott mccloud are both great books, highly recommend them (easy to get second hand/from your library/🏴‍☠️)

-lastly, haveee funnnnn

#asks #art ref #and ty for the kind words i appreciate it <3

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hargrove-mayfields · 10 months

Text

Happy Disability Pride month! Here’s a disabled Harringrove fic I’ve been slowly working on for quite a while now!

Also posted on ao3 and broken into chapters since it’s a bit longer.

warnings: canonical injury, graphic injury description, hospital setting, detailed child abuse, distress, medical anxiety.

-•-•-•-•-•-

At about one in the morning on the fourth of July, Hawkins Memorial Hospital is overrun with a group of banged up teenagers. A girl with an infected stab wound in her leg, a boy with bruises all over his face and drugs in his system, two kids with bruises and mild head injuries, the rest all with ringing ears and miscellaneous cuts and scrapes, but by far the worst was a boy who had been impaled straight through the center of his chest.

There was an explosion at the mall, and falling debris had done a real number on these kids, or at least that’s what they were told to say when they were given government clearance and all rushed into the emergency room.

They made for quite a sight, thirteen people rushing in all at once, but only two of them were in bad enough shape to be taken back immediately. El and Billy, the latter of which had already had to be resuscitated in the ambulance for the extent of the injury to his chest. They both went straight into surgery.

Everyone else had to sit and wait their turns, though some of them with the least severe damage opted out of their check ups, so the next to be admitted back were Steve and Robin.

The truth was a lot uglier than just an explosion, and, to say the very least, they were a little worse for wear.

Robin hadn’t actually been touched by the men who were torturing them, since the plan was to kill Steve first and then get to her. That, thank whatever being might possibly live in the clouds, had not happened. It was just that her head was still fuzzy and her knees unsteady from whatever they’d injected her with.

The thing is, they had probably been pretty damn close to killing Steve though. It hadn’t felt like it at first, the adrenaline from a million other things to worry about taking over the pain, but the longer he sat with his injuries, the more it felt like his brain was trying to come out through his nose, and the room had started spinning around him again, this time from the concussion, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding internally from somewhere.

A nurse whose name Steve forgot as soon as he learned it led them into a big room with two beds and an armchair in the corner. She had the both of them describe their symptoms, frowning at every detail Steve remembered about his condition until eventually she called in the doctor to do a better once over.

They were testing Robins blood or something while they did all kinds of poking and prodding at Steve. They made him do some consciousness checks, asking him who the president was and that sort of thing, and making him follow the end of a pen with his eyes.

Apparently he had something called hyphema in his eye, but to him it just felt like it was going to pop out. A lady smiled down at him and poked his eye with a fancy stick, another made him tilt his head back and put drops in it, then brought him a little patch, some sort of bandage to put over it.

Medicine was put in all the little cuts on his face and the doctor started scribbling something onto his clipboard. He sighed and said something, but to Steve’s ears, he just sounded like a teacher from the Peanuts holiday specials, not a single coherent syllable coming out of the man’s mouth.

To attempt to hear what that doctor was saying, Steve furrowed his eyebrows and tried his very best to focus on just his words, but it still just sounded like a bunch of jumbled up trumpet noises. Eventually he gave up and asked, “What?”

More incoherent mumbling.

For a brief moment, Steve felt his heart start to race with panic, the thought that he could be dying settling into his mind with dread, and that fear and confusion must’ve translated directly onto his face.

The doctor put a hand on his chin and tilted his head to the side again and turned on some little flashlight, then turned Steve’s back to face him, a grim look on his face. “We need to do a hearing test.”

One of the nurses from before left and came back with a big cart and wheeled it up beside him. He asked what it was, to his ears sounding clear and concise, but to Robin and the nurses it sounded more mushed together, like- “Whazat?”

She explained it to him, but he only caught about every other word when he looked up at her face. It was something to do with him having to wear these big chunky headphones and the little tray of buttons they put in front of him.

He gathered that he was supposed to press one when a sound came through the headphones, but he just kind of sat there for a few minutes. Everyone else in the room all had the same look on their face, an odd mixture of sympathy and seriousness, and Steve realized the silence was probably supposed to be full of sounds, he just couldn’t hear them.

It made his heart sink down to his stomach, and for a second he thought about just pressing the buttons whenever he wanted and pretending to hear something, but he knew they would see through it.

The good news was that eventually he could hear some of the beeps, but only when they were obviously too loud to be normal and in his right ear. Besides, the damage of the realization had already been done. Steve was basically deaf.

It made sense- a lot of sense really. Their torturers had done all kinds of shit to him that he could hardly even remember while they were trying to get him to talk, and he’d initially blamed the ringing in his ears on the drugs. After that, a hell of a lot of fireworks had gone off in the echoing space of the mall's lobby, so he thought his ears were just messed up from that.

He supposed it should’ve been a giveaway that everyone else who had also been exposed to the fireworks wasn’t having the same problem, but in their haste to get to the hospital, he hadn’t really been thinking about comparing their ailments.

The nurse signaled for him to take the headphones off and wheeled her little cart away, and the doctor put his hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to do another test to see how bad the damage is, okay?”

Without really knowing what he was agreeing to, Steve nodded, and for the first time looked over at Robin in the bed parallel to his. She gave him a little thumbs up, but her smile looked forced and just sad. Steve felt a tug of nervousness in his chest.

This time they put something inside of Steve’s ear, which hurt like hell when it apparently wasn’t supposed to, that would somehow, he missed the explanation part, check for damage to his eardrum. Not even five minutes after they put it in his ear they turned it off.

The doctor, all stern like, told him, “You need a CT scan. Immediately.”

Apparently his left eardrum had completely ruptured and the right was not far behind it. That meant to the doctors that he had some terrible head injury that could kill him if they didn’t catch it.

Steve was glad he was in the hospital, because it felt like he was having a heart attack now.

Growing up, his mother was something of a hypochondriac, every headache was a brain tumor and every flu season he had meningitis, an aching joint meant he had early onset arthritis, and mood swings, those obviously meant he was, in her words, “mentally unwell.”

Because of that, he’d always been sort of paranoid too, careful when he didn’t need to be and scared of nothing. The one time he worried for someone other than himself and suddenly he’s deaf and has traumatic brain injuries. Nice.

By the time he was done with all the tests they wanted to do on him he was shaking like a leaf. They said it was unlikely that there would turn out to be anything wrong, but he would have to wait an entire day to find out. Surviving all that he had just to die hours later was something that scared him immensely, and, even as they were being cleared for release, he was moments away from a panic attack.

Robin could read him like a book, and got him out of there as soon as possible once they signed him out. Everyone else was still lingering in the waiting room, and Steve wanted desperately to stay with them, but, even if he didn’t realize it just yet, Robin knew he needed to not be around people right now.

They said a quick goodbye to everyone else, and Robin had him in his bimmer and halfway back home before he knew what had happened. She’s not licensed, but since Steve’s place is only a few minutes away, and he really didn’t think he could handle being by himself right now, she just drove him.

Robin made herself right at home, trudging on up into his parents room and raiding his mother’s drawers for something to change into after spending the last two or so days in the same stiff, stained up work uniform.

Words couldn’t describe how relieved that made Steve feel, her just barging on in like she owned the place when he was so used to this house being empty. He was glad that, after everything they’d been through, the two of them came out of it as friends, something he was lacking before having met and been tortured alongside her.

Because really, he had Dustin, but it’s different when he’s younger. The only kids he knew who were his own age either hated his guts or only talked to him out of pity, so Robin was truly a breath of fresh air.

Still, the weight of learning that he had gotten truly and utterly fucked up was too much emotionally for him to bear. The whole time he was in the shower, scrubbing away the blood and the dirt caked into his nails and his hair and his ears apparently, he let tears drip off the end of his nose and ugly sobs out of his throat.

Robin was in another bathroom somewhere in that mansion of his probably doing the same thing, so he let himself go with the promise that there was no way she would hear him. He cried harder when he realized he couldn’t hear himself either.

Afterward, using the phone in the kitchen, Robin called her mom and told her the same practiced story about the ‘explosion’ at the mall, and got permission to stay at a friends while he waited for medical clearance, that part an unfortunate reality. If she left now, there was the chance, albeit a small one, that Steve wasn’t in the clear, and his brain could hemorrhage or something and he’d just die alone at home.

Reluctantly her mother agreed to let her stay, concerned for her daughter's safety and a random boy’s intentions with her, but she had eventually given up against Robin’s begging.

Once she was done, the conversation with Steve’s ima over the phone in the living room went completely different.

Overreacting was Ruth-Anne Harrington’s middle name, and the very moment she weaseled out of her bubbeleh that there’d been an accident and he’d been involved, she was practically packed and halfway back to Hawkins.

After that, he and Robin kind of just sat there until Ima Ruth got there. With what they’d seen and what had been done to them, there wasn’t really much else either of them would rather do but exactly that.

A few hours into reruns of some old sitcom Steve’s ima used to watch, Robin nudged him with her knee to let him know she was going to speak. “Should we try to get some sleep?”

Already knowing that his answer was a resounding no way, absolutely not, Steve shrugged his shoulders and acted casual instead, “Dunno.”

Robin sank further back into the couch and nodded, fiddling with the hem of the borrowed pajama shirt that she’a wearing, “You holding up okay, popeye?”

The little chuckle that Steve gave in response sounded kind of wet, and she could hear it in his voice that he was going to cry before either of them saw tears. “Not really.”

His lip trembled and Robin felt tears pricking in her own eyes, so she sat up straighter and pulled Steve close. It was kind of an awkward angle, with her folded legs pressing into his side, but it didn’t really matter to them right now. They needed to be there for eachother.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Only a few hours after sunrise, Ruth rang the doorbell like her life depended on it, immediately dropping her bags on the stoop to hug her son. If he had any more tears to shed he would’ve, but him and Robin had done pretty much nothing but cry all night.

Stephen Sr. had not been able to, or rather, willing to make the flight all the way back to Hawkins from where they had been staying for some meeting in Dayton, but Steve would rather have only seen his ima anyways.

Her manicured nails in his hair, her sweet perfume, and her slightly too tight hugs were much better than the scornful glances and backhanded comments he would’ve heard from his father from behind the newspaper anyways.

He helped her drag all of her luggage into the house, then he and Robin sat down at the kitchen island while Ruth made them some tea. Something she did always made it better than when Steve would try to, with the same tea bags and everything, but she would never tell him her secret.

Sliding them both identical mugs and wrapping her hands around one for herself, Ruth leaned forward with her elbows on the island so she was eye level with them. “So what happened?”

Knowing that Robin was probably super uncomfortable right now, Steve took the bullet for her, “There was an explosion at the mall after we closed up Scoops. A buncha’ kids got trapped in ‘ere. There was just like, debris everywhere a-and we just… yeah.”

Ruth could tell just from her son's voice something was off. His words were all running together, and his pronunciations sounded off. It reminded her of when he was a toddler and she had to send him to speech therapy to teach him how to talk in the ‘proper’ way that didn’t reflect his mothers accent. “And are you okay?”

“We, uh, don’t really know yet.” It’s the half truth. They don’t have all the results. But Steve is really just nervous to tell her something so big.

She gets closer, putting the pressure on, “Stefan. You can tell me anything.”

“I- um. I kinda sorta-“

“He’s deaf.” Robin cut him off and said the words for him, knowing he was too scared to tell Ruth, who she’d heard many not so lovely things about. Maybe it’s just because she knows what it’s like to have parents who don’t show up, but she doesn’t forgive Ruth for abandoning Steve, no matter the excuse. So she’s brutally honest, “His eardrums were blown out and there’s a chance he has a brain injury.”

“Oh, honey.” She picked up Steve’s hand in her own, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. “When will we know?”

“Sometime later today.” Steve answers on his own.

It doesn’t erase the concern, or the irritated pursed lips, from Ruth’s face, “What do we have to do for you?”

“They just said they’d lemme know when they called me back.” For some reason, Steve feels guilty about not knowing. Like it’s his fault and not the systems. He feels dumb.

“Alright.” Is all Ruth says. It only cements in Robin's mind that this woman isn’t actually the best mom in the world. Steve needs comfort and support right now. Not a performance of concern. Not hollow questions asking if he needs anything while knowing he definitely does.

Still, Robin herself was in an okay enough place after spending all morning with Steve that she figured it was time to butt out. Her own mother is probably going to freak out on her for not going home last night, it’s best to go anyways.

Once Ruth turned her back to them again, she tapped the side of Steve’s mug to get him to look at her, “I think I’m gonna call my mom for a ride and skedaddle.”

Immediately Steve objects, “But you don’ have to go.”

“I can stay if you want me to.” Robin offers, instead of arguing, and Steve realizes she’d read him exactly right.

A guilty look on his face, Steve bit his lip and looked at his mum where she was bustling around in the kitchen around them. Robin knew that meant he wanted to be alone with his mom, and despite her reservations about Ruth from the stories she’d heard, she could understand that.

“I’m going to be fine Steve. Worry about yourself for a change.” Robin hugs him, gently so she doesn’t aggravate any of his injuries, “Call me if you need me though popeye.”

She called her mom and waited awkwardly by the front doors, and, despite how not-normal this situation was, it felt just like any other time leaving a friends house, with the awkward ‘I don’t really know what to say but I’m about to leave’ kind of vibe, and in a strange way it comforted her.

Steve would be okay. She would be fine. They both would be and so would everyone else.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-

The call had come and Steve was dealing with a severe concussion, but it wasn’t anything he would die from, not from an unexpected aneurysm or a stroke like he had convinced himself.

Except for the complete loss of his hearing and the fact that there was nothing he could do about it, he was feeling a little better.

Technically there actually was a solution. At the same time that the hospital told him his brain was fine, they’d offered to get him fitted for hearing aids, but two days later Stephen Sr. finally returned from the birthplace of aviation and the appointment was canceled.

Where Ruth reacted to everything that could possibly be wrong with Steve with the instinct to coddle him, his dad did the opposite. He was cold and harsh Steve’s entire childhood, like the time he was eight years old and broke his elbow playing soccer, but was cut out of the cast early on his fathers orders. Or when he lost his tooth in the dry steak at a fancy restaurant and got slapped for crying.

When they had told him the news of Steve’s disability, both Steve and his mother staring down at the wooden table and twiddling their thumbs, he had the audacity to laugh. He thought they were just making a mountain out of a mole hole, that Steve probably just had some congestion and would be fine in a few days.

Steve tried really, really hard to follow the rules and listen to what his father said to avoid conflict, but after a week he knew it was hopeless.

In just that one week alone, he had been through three phone calls with various people checking up on him that he didn’t hear more than a few words of. He’d discovered when a police officer showed up at the door to get a statement out of him about the mall that looking into other peoples faces was much harder than before thanks to the torture he’d been through, and suddenly it was next to impossible to hear what anyone was saying to him without the extra help of being able to read their lips.

Possibly worst of all, he kept getting whacks to the back of the head with the newspaper or his fathers hand for not answering when he was spoken to or missing out on conversation.

This just wasn’t going to work.

His ears were not going to just magically get better at hearing, and as hard as it was to realize that at 19 he’d have to wear hearing aids like his zeydee did, after an entire week of this icky feeling of being isolated with his head under water, he had to do it.

That morning, he sat down next to his ima on the couch and told her, as casually as possible, “I would be okay if you guys had to leave again.”

Ruth, keeping her eyes low and her face in her cup of tea, mumbled out her response, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear it, “We wouldn’t just abandon you dear.”

Steve’s face scrunched up with the effort of trying to understand her. She gave a second, clearer answer to spare him the trouble, “Are you certain you’ll be fine Stefan?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure.” He nodded, probably making it even less believable, but as Ruth was between a rock and a hard fist, she accepted it as truth.

“Well, your father has a meeting in Pittsburgh tomorrow morning, and he’s been asking me to go with him..” It was clear in the look on her face that she wanted to turn away, but she remembered his current state and kept her face turned towards him. She’s implying things again, letting Steve do the heavy lifting so she doesn’t have to.

“You should go ima. I’m okay now.” An ingenuine smile to finish it off, and Ruth’s decision was made.

His parents were out of the house by that same afternoon in a slurry of excessive amounts of hugs and promises to call from Ruth, while he got another smack to the back of his head from Stephen Sr.

As soon as the Rolls Royce pulled out of the driveway he ran to get ready. There was an audiologist at the hospital, and he was determined to go there, even if his father had been awful to the staff about canceling the appointment.

See, Stephen Sr. had built up quite the reputation in Hawkins, but where most of the public, like his teachers and his neighbors, thought it was a case of tough love between the Harrington father and son, the doctors at the hospital knew it wasn’t really like that at all. It was all in his records, the suspicious amount of injuries and all the denied treatments for them.

Since he was about ten they’d been leaving him alone for all their business trips and whatnot, and ever since then he’d been taking himself to the doctor for things they deemed too trivial. Mostly it was for his allergies, like to get the epipen he was told he didn’t need or a breathing treatment that one time his mom used coconut perfume before date night, but there were quite a few of the occasional instances of injuries like concussions during off seasons and fingers slammed in car doors before he was old enough to drive.

The staff were pretty good about letting him in without an appointment, and this time was no different.

When he got there, a woman behind the desk signed him in with a sympathetic smile when she heard what happened, and said he’d only have to wait about a half hour.

He was called back and they did yet another hearing test on him, just to be extra sure it wasn’t a temporary effect from the ‘explosion’ and deemed that yeah, he was definitely still very deaf.

Piles of papers were thrown at him detailing all the different options and information for hearing aids, and they took some molds of his ears. The doctor told him it would take about a week, and then they’d call him back in and give him the hearing aids. Simple as that and he was being hurried back out of the room already.

It felt odd just walking out after that, maybe because he still couldn’t hear a damn thing and had to wait another week to get his hearing back, and he found himself lost in his thoughts and in the hallways of the hospital.

Eventually he ended up in the waiting room of an entrance he hadn’t even used, but all thoughts of how the hell to escape this labyrinth of a hospital were pushed out of his mind when he caught sight of a familiar redhead in one of the blue plastic chairs.

Max had been the only one of the kids he hadn’t talked to since that night, so he sat down next to her. It didn’t seem like she noticed him at first, just kept her head down to stare at the pages of a magazine she definitely wasn’t actually reading, until she sighed and slammed it shut, turning to face him.

“What're you doing here?” There was a bitterness in her tone that Steve definitely didn’t expect, and a hard set look on her face to go with it.

As if, with the fading bruises and cuts still all over his face and the blood still pooled around his iris, he didn’t look like he belonged in a hospital. Then again, he probably looks a lot better than Max’s brother.

“I needed to get my ears checked out again. Fireworks got me pretty messed up.”

Instantly her face softens, and she sits back in her chair. “Good. I thought you were here to tell me to go home.”

If Steve is guessing right, then she’s here to see Billy, since he had nearly died, but Steve couldn’t understand why anyone would tell her to leave her brother behind. “Why would I do that?”

“Because pretty much everyone else has.” She snaps then turns her face away, muttering, exasperated, under her breath. “They think I’m just wasting my time.”

Steve didn’t catch what she said at all. He feels bad about it, but has to clarify, “What?”

There’s tears in her eyes and a crack in her voice as she turns back and practically shouts in his face, misunderstanding his inability to hear as a lack of understanding, “They think Billy’s some kind of monster or something and they don’t want me to come see him!”

“Oh.” Blinking a few times, Steve tries to think of the right thing to say. “How.. is he?”

She shrugs her shoulders as a response, chewing her trembling lip to try to keep the angry tears from spilling over.

“Do you want me to go with you? To see him?” The feeling of going through something like this alone was all too familiar to him, so while he and Billy hadn’t exactly been friends, he couldn’t leave Max here alone, crying in the middle of the day, while all her friends isolated her for it. He figured it didn’t really matter who was in the hospital bed as long as he was doing it to support her.

All she manages is a nod, and a sob she’d been trying to contain rattled her shoulders. Of all the kids he was probably the least close with Max, but in that moment he decides it isn’t important, and he wraps his arm protectively over her trembling body.

Visiting hours had opened earlier that morning, but they were doing some sort of test on Billy now, so they would have to wait.

In the meantime, Steve decided to take Max down to the cafeteria for some cheap food. A cup of jello and a bagel sandwich for each of them later, she was leading Steve back upstairs and down the hall to see if Billy was done.

Max saw the nurse lingering in the lobby and rounded the corner like a bat out of hell, tennis shoes squeaking on the floor.

As if she had to say anything, the nurse announces, “Mr. Hargrove is ready for you.”

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Whatever Steve had been expecting to see in room 212, it was not Billy Hargrove awake, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Had Steve just been impaled through his chest, especially considering how crummy he feels from just his injuries, he doesn’t think he’d be half as alert or completely normal seeming as Billy was.

Other than the obscene amount of bandages around his torso and the oxygen tubes in his nose, he looked mostly just like he had before. Not even ‘before’ as in recently before being admitted to the hospital, he’d still looked pretty run down in the weeks leading up to the incident, but ‘before’ as in when he’d first moved to Hawkins.

Adorned with that playful glint in his eyes that Steve hadn’t seen since last November before they’d gotten into a fight, Billy’s gaze follows him into the room, “Didn’t expect to see you here, Harrington.”

And Steve can tell he’s on all kinds of pain meds, from how wide his smile goes, how light his voice is, and he wonders if Billy’s like him, doing better on the outside than underneath.

But he still thinks he should respond so, with hands shoved into his pockets, Steve leans against the wall by the window and shrugs his shoulders. “Wasn’t planning on being here, Hargrove.”

Max on the other hand, sat herself down on the foot of Billy’s bed, crossing her legs so the both of them would fit together, and launched into a story about her day. It was mostly just complaints about the other kids ditching her and Susan not staying like she said she would, but Steve wouldn’t know all that.

From where he's standing, he can’t see most of Max’s face, so he keeps his eyes downcast at the blue and white floor, counting flaws in the tiles and trying his best to focus hard on what she’s saying. Most of what he gathers is confusing nonsense and it’s sort of miserable.

While she talked, even though he was listening and offering his input, Billy finds his gaze drifting over to Steve in the corner instead. The way he’s concentrating so hard, the way he doesn’t startle or look up like both he and Max had when an announcement came on the overhead speakers, or how, even when his own name is brought up in the conversation he doesn’t respond. To him, it’s become obvious there is a problem.

Max got to the present in her story, where she told him why Steve was here too and, seeing an opportunity to test his theory, Billy asks, “That true, Harrington?”

A second or two too late the words, spoken loud enough that he could just barely hear them, try to register, and he gathers that he’d been addressed by name, but Steve doesn’t hear the rest.

Looking up at the two of them, he sees Max had turned around to stare at him with big eyes and Billy’s drowsy gaze fixed onto him, the pair of siblings waiting for an answer. Steve felt a little heat rise to his face instantly, “Huh?”

“You can’t hear a damn thing can you?” Billy looks curious, almost fascinated by Steve and his situation.

For some reason, despite the seemingly rude bluntness of a high Billy Hargrove, it makes him decide to tell the truth, “Not really, no.”

Taking it in, Billy nods slowly, and eventually asks him, “You know sign language?”

“I never learned it, no.” Steve had only taken French in highschool to help his once best friend Heather get back in touch with her roots since her parents wouldn’t teach her the language of the city she was born in.

His were the same way, but they didn’t offer Yiddish classes at Hawkins High, and definitely not any form of Sign Language either. If only.

What Steve isn’t expecting is for Billy to offer, with one hundred percent certainty, “I could teach you.”

That’s surprising for some reason. Not the fact that Billy would teach him, since he seems in such a cheerful mood anyways, but rather that he’d be able to. “Wait, you know it?”

Still bobbing his head in a rigid nod, so much it makes Steve almost dizzy to watch, Billy explains, “Yep. My momma was deaf. She taught me growing up.”

That explains how he caught on so quickly then. It’s actually not that unexpected with the way he’d noticed Billy staring at his lips instead of making eye contact, since even before their fight. Still, he’s shy about accepting the offer at first, “Oh. I mean, if you wanna teach me..”

Billy doesn’t need any more than that to confidently declare, “Your first lesson is tomorrow. Bring a notebook and some snacks. We have lots of work to do.”

Equal parts excitement and fear flutter in Steve’s chest. The idea of being taught by Billy isn’t the worst, he’s honestly pretty neutral about that. It’s more the idea of having to learn things in general that scares him. He’d done terribly back in school, skating past only with the help of a personal special ed tutor. Any subject where he has to write or read anything is going to be a disaster.

More vulnerable that he expected, Steve brings up those fears, “What if I can’t learn it?”

“We’ll keep trying. It’s not like it’s gonna kill you to mess up.” The question hadn’t even fazed Billy. He’s so confident, Steve feels like it’s contagious.

Being able to communicate better than his attempts at hearing sounds fun actually, and the way Billy has been so kind about everything, Steve’s maybe looking forward to it. “Yeah.. Yeah! I’ll come back tomorrow.”

With that arranged now, Steve decided it was time to go. Besides, he has to go to Robin and tell her absolutely everything. Maybe they’ll have a little sleepover since Steve’s parents are gone again, and then Robin can bring Steve to see Billy tomorrow. She’ll be happy for him. Anything to make life so soon after the disaster easier.

He stands up, and thanks Billy quickly, and with a few pats to Max’s head he’s on his way out the door.

“I’ll see you then, pretty boy.” Billy had said it more quietly, meaning it registered only as a low rumble, but from the pitch he could tell it was Billy saying something. Already he feels that familiar with his new friend, a good sign for their future.

Still, he’s curious about what he said, so he turns back around and asks, “Huh?”

“Just saying bye, Steve.” Billy smiles, in contrasts with a subtle flush on his face, and waves, the tubes in his IV coming up with his arm, a reminder that he’s still in recovery too. It’ll probably make a world of difference for him to have Steve visit, based on what Max was saying.

Steve returns a vibrant smile before he exits, “Oh. Bye!”

Once he’s gone, probably back in his car and driven off already, Max looks at her brother and scoffs, well aware of another reason he wants to get close to Steve; the crush he’s had on him since they met, for example. “God, you’re a dork.”

“I’m a man in love, Maxine. And I got a date with Steve.” The drugs are definitely making him a little loopy, but even he should realize that’s a bit of a stretch just for a couple of sign language lessons.

Max just rolls her eyes at him affectionately, “Yeah, yeah. Keep dreaming.”

#harringrove #billy x steve #steve centric #billy hargrove #steve & max #billy & max #steve & robin #disabled steve harrington #steve harringtons parents #my writing #tw child abuse #tw injury #tw hospital #happy ending #there’s fluff guys don’t worry #just some struggles first #the first drafts of this are from before I ever posted on st tumblr and now I’ve finally gotten it to a place where I can post it! I’m happy

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mjoffic · 4 months

Text

last minute shopping - eddie munson holiday blurb

I work retail and this popped in my head while refolding a graphic tee table and it's truly just a bunch of fluf and eddie being a cute boi

~ enjoy and happy holidays ~

word count: 1.2k

The holidays. A time focused around family, the reason for the season, cozy sweaters and hot cocoa. Twinkling lights couldn't be missed for miles as every house had some sort of big bulk convenience store decoration. No need for 'frosted windows in a can', oh no, Hawkins was seeing a very white Christmas with snow fall never ending and the chill of the wind cutting through every jacket and parka leaving no survivors behind. The joy was like an electric buzz in the air, only one thing could diminish the feeling.

The Starcourt Mall.

Eddie wasn't the best planner, never had been. Despite this year trying his best to be on top of the holidays he still had yet to get something for Uncle Wayne. With Christmas Day only two days away, it was a scramble for the perfect gift and it was absolute hell trying to get anywhere in the mall.

He could try The Gap? Nah, too pricey.

Maybe a gift certificate to Scoops Ahoy? But when would Wayne ever find the time to use it? He's always working.

Eddie sighed in frustration, running a hand through his mop of curls. He took a moment to look around the area, peeking over the heads of bustling mothers herding their kids to meet Santa, dads sitting on benches with shopping bags galore, teenagers running around the food court with their Orange Julius's sloshing all over the place. This was a nightmare. Slim pickings. Would Wayne be upset over a hand drawn card?

He was near giving up when he spotted Macy's on the far end. It was a department store, and while it seemed busy, it wasn't as congested as the inner workings of the mall. He squeezed his way through and slid through a sliver of space in between two groups of families; one included a mother scolding her husband for losing their credit card, the other group had a child crying over not getting the remote control car on the front table. Eddie pursed his lips, so glad he wasn't in that stage of life just yet.

There seemed to be never ending options for Eddie to look through, he wondered why he hadn't stopped in in the first place. It also made this decision much more difficult. He knew that he would definitely be walking out with something, no doubt, but genuinely the starting point slowly began to stump him and he felt his once eager energy depleting. A three pack of ties? When did Wayne dress up? A mug? Sure, lets add to the hundreds of them adorning the trailer wall. Maybe a fancy glass set? Even if the glasses were on sale, it was definitely out of Eddie's comfort range of spending.

"Well the sign says fifty percent off!"

A screech from an older woman pulled Eddie out of his daze and his attention turned to the scene on his right.

"Ma'am, I understand your frustration, however the sign details specifically to the gift sets. This sweater is on the table, but is signed for thirty percent off."

Eddie shifted his gaze from the woman, red in the face, almost matching her Christmas red sweater, to you. You stood behind a counter, not currently in use to ring up customers, but he noticed a stack of scarves next to you. He assumed you'd been cleaning up. You wore emerald green, very festive, and an elf hat to match. Despite your professional aura, the bell on the end of hat could almost send him into a fit of giggles every time your head even moved an inch.

"I'd be more than happy to show you-" you started, before being interrupted.

"You can show me to your manager! This is false advertising!" the women shouted, drawing a few more eyes into encounter.

"Ma'am, I'll have to ask you to keep from yelling in the store," you responded, face void of emotion. "If you would let me-"

"I'll yell if I want to! This is a free country!"

Eddie watched you take a deep breath, before picking a landline off the counter. You typed quietly while the woman continued her banter. You faked a smile to her before speaking again. "Hi, hey Ron, it's Y/n! Yeah, yeah, doing good, hey listen, would you mind sending security down to gifts? I have a disgruntled customer who refuses to listen. Awesome, thanks so much!"

The womens jaw dropped as you placed the phone back to the receiver, Eddie snickering quietly at this interaction.

"Who do you think you are!" the woman shouted, feigning a hand to her chest dramatically. "Do you know who I am?"

You smiled and shook your head, folding your hands on the counter. "No, ma'am, I don't! However I am the manager of this department and am asking you to remove yourself before security gets here."

The woman stared dumbfounded, slowly backing up from your bubble. Eddie stared in wonder at the interaction, and if he was honestly, completed turned on by your dominance.

"Merry Christmas!" you smiled, waving as the woman moved away from the scene.

Eddie noticed security at the end of the walkway and he shook his head, laughing slightly. Finding the nerve to walk up to you, he leaned softly against the counter and looked to the way in which the Grinch had left. "I think that was better than any of those movies playing in the theater right now."

You looked to him when he had approached, and smirked a bit at his words. "I try. Gotta keep some sort of sanity in this place."

"I get it, it's a madhouse in here," Eddie nodded, giving his best smile before extending his hand. "Eddie."

Your smirk simmered into a smile and you shook his hand back, nodding. "Y/n."

"Well, Y/n, I'm wondering if you might be of some use to me," he said, straightening back up.

"Oh?" you questioned, crossing your arms.

"Yeah, I mean, you are the manager of this department," Eddie said. "I'm in the works for the perfect gift."

"Ah," you nodded, stepping out from around the counter and glancing around your section. "Mom? Sibling? Girlfriend?"

Eddie stifled a laugh and he slowly followed beside you. "Uh, no mom. No siblings. And no girlfriend."

Your face erupted in pink and you stumbled over your words. "Oh, um, I'm sorry, I just assumed-"

"Hey, hey," Eddie grinned. "All good here. I'm shopping for my uncle, wanna try to find him something nice. Not much of a budget but I figured I'd find something on sale."

You felt your panic subside and sat a cool hand against your cheek, the heat subsiding. "Well, I'm sure we can find something perfect for him! Maybe something for you? Doesn't hurt to treat yourself sometimes."

Eddie pursed his lips a little bit and dug his hands in his pockets, following slightly behind you. He watched the way the bell of your hat jingled with every step you took. You arms slightly swayed when you walked, and you barely made a sound when taking a step. He began to notice the little things, and started to quietly thank the stars he'd came into the mall after all.

"I think I already have."

#stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #christmas #xmas #holidays #eddie munson blurb #blurb #managerreader #yeehaw #i thought this was cute

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munsonownsmyass · 4 months

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Frank Castle x OFC! Abigail Miller

Summary: After his first visit, Frank comes to town more often. As the days go by, him and Abby get closer.

Notes: Still just some good ol' pining for this one folks. It's a slowburn, I'm sorry 😆

But we get way more Frank in this one and some not so pure thoughts. But really... who could have pure thoughts around Frank Castle? 🥵

There's also a little nod to Matt Murdock in here 🤭

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Words: 3.3K

Part 1 - Masterlist - Part 3

Two weeks. It had been exactly two weeks since Abby had last seen Frank. Some days she caught herself looking at the door, hoping he would walk through.

Which in itself is really silly. First of all, Mildred said he rarely comes to town, always keeping to himself. Secondly, she had barely talked to him. So why did she think about him?

Well, she had to admit his eyes were kinda pretty. Okay, they were downright beautiful. And thinking about it, his lips were kinda plump and… really kissable.

God, was she really thirsting over a man she barely knew? It really had been too long since she had gotten laid. And how old was he anyway? Definitely older than her, but the beard probably made him look older than he actually was. Abby shakes her head, finishing putting some freshly baked muffins in the display.

Thankfully it’s a slow day, so Abby has lots of time to do some much-needed chores around the store. Browse for new recipes, put the delivered goods in the cooler or storage. Just as she puts the empty boxes away in the backroom, she hears the bell from the door.

“I’ll be there in a sec” she yells cheerfully. When Abby re-enters the store, she sees him. Frank Castle. Well, you know what they say. Speak of the devil and all that. Without thinking, she instantly smooths down the folds of her apron, before she walks towards him.

“Mr. Castle, what can I do for you today?”

“I wanted some more bread. And maybe some cookies too.”

“You came to the right place then.” she smiles softly, hoping he takes no offence by the playful tone to her voice. She walks towards the counter, gesturing to the selection she has, waiting for his order. When he walks closer, she is reminded of just how tall he is. And broad. God, he is broad.

She forces a smile, looking up at Frank with an innocent face, like she didn’t just think about him. “So what tickles your fancy?”

He doesn’t answer, just looks at her with an intense gaze. His eyes trailing down her body and up again, where they once again meet hers. Abby suddenly feels shy, strangely exposed under his gaze.

“Do you have more of that corn loaf?” He asks, his deep voice calm and soft.

Surprised, Abby’s lips quirk up into a smile. Figures he would be a man of habits. “The same bread again, Mr. Castle? You don’t want to try something new?”

“Just call me Frank.”

A sudden warm feeling washes over her at the prospect of getting to know Frank better. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

“I do have one left.” Abby says softly, as she walks to the bread and put it in a bag. As she types the order into the register, Frank just looks at her, studying her quietly. Once she had added the cookies, she looks at him again. Not wanting him to go yet, but still not wanting to push too much, she gestures towards the coffee machine.

“You want a cup of coffee before you go?”

“No.” He says a bit too hard. He frowns quickly before his face turns softer. “No, thank you.”

It’s strange, as if he’s been alone for so long that he’s forgotten how to interact with people. Abby doesn't mind, though, but the thought makes her sad, makes her wonder why he keeps to himself.

He lingers for a moment, looking to the display, before his eyes find hers again. “You don’t have any red velvet cupcakes?”

“No, but I can make you some.” Abby smiles softly, suddenly eyeing an opportunity. “If you leave your number, I can call you when they’re done?“

Frank nods softly, taking one of the notepads on the counter. As he scribbles down his number, Abby notices how small the ballpen is in his hand, how small the notepad is against the other. God, his hands are huge. Just like the rest of him. Before she can stop herself, Abby looks him up and down, before scolding herself. Down girl. She doesn’t even know him yet. And even if she did, she wouldn’t know what to do, hopeless around men. Truth be told, she’d never had a serious relationship, always been a little shy. Or she just never found the right one. But… Doesn’t hurt to look, does it?

She forces herself to look away, biting her lip in shame.

Frank hands her the block, before he puts his hands back into the pocket of his coat. Silence falls between them. Abby fidgets with the block, while Frank looks at her. He opens his mouth, as if he’s gonna say something, but no words come out. He looks away, nods and turns towards the door.

“Have a nice day, Frank.”

He gives her a quick wave and leaves the store. Abby looks after him until he reaches his car, wondering what he wanted to say. She looks at the block in her hand, smiling, before she returns to her chores.

The next day, Abby and Mildred are sitting in the couch area, when Mildred spots something outside.

“Well, will you look at that? Frank is in town again. Twice in one month.” She takes a sip of her coffee, her eyes following him as he walks towards the shop. “Don’t think that has ever happened before.”

“Actually…” Abby starts softly, biting her bottom lip. Mildred looks at her, scotching closer. “He was here yesterday.”

Mildred looks at Abby softly, raising her brow, as a shit eating grin spreads on her face. “Hmm… I wonder what’s suddenly causing him to visit more.”

She nudges Abby’s shoulder playfully, before she puts her cup down, walking towards the back room.

“What are you doing?” Abby asks, confused.

“Leaving you alone with him.” Mildred blinks, before she disappears behind the kitchen door, just in time for Frank to enter the shop. Abby turns to face him, a blush slowly creeping up her cheeks. Frank walks towards her slowly, a faint smile on his lips.

Huh. A smile. Would you look at that? Abby can’t help but imagine how he would look with a full-on smile, how it would light up his face.

“I was wondering if my cakes were ready. Was heading to town anyways, so…”

“Oh, yeah. I… I was just about to call you, actually.” She smiles softly, fighting the urge to smile too much. Mildred couldn’t be right, could she?

Abby gets up to get his cakes, already packed up nicely in a little box. As she hands him the box, he has a faint smile on his face, his features softening ever so slightly. Looking softer, he’s not that intimidating. Sure, the hair was a little long, and that beard could use a little trim, too. But it really wasn’t that bad.

As he walks to the door, Abby softly wishes him a good day, even though he never reciprocates. Frank stops in the door, looking out into the street, before he looks back at her. His brown eyes are soft, as they look into her green ones.

“Have a nice day” he says quickly, before lowering his gaze and walking out the store.

Once outside, he looks through the window, but when he sees Abby watching, he blushes and looks away. As Frank walks to his car, Mildred comes out of the backroom, practically snickering. She puts her arm around Abby, a wide smile on her face.

“That is something I never thought I would see. You got more than 5 words out of him. He must like you.”

She gives Abby a little squeeze, before she returns to her coffee, already talking about the county fair, even though it’s still a month away. But Abby’s mind is still on Frank. He couldn’t possibly like her, could he?

She shakes her head, walking over to Mildred, trying not to smile too much.

The next few weeks flew by. Frank had come into the shop 3 more times. Once to pick up more cookies and twice for… Well, Abby wasn’t sure. He said he just wanted coffee, but the coffee couldn’t be that good, could it?

He was still very quiet, not talking much at all. A few sentences here and there, but one thing she noticed was his voice. He sounded warmer, more comfortable. Even his body language changes. He looks more relaxed, the tension gone from his shoulders, as he sits on the couch, enjoying a coffee while looking at the small bookshelves.

One day he casually mentioned he was reading Moby Dick as he was browsing through her collection of classics. It was nice to know they had that in common.

Sometimes they don’t even talk at all, just relax in each other’s company. Every so often, Abby would look up as she’s finishing up a cake, only to find Frank’s eyes already on her. And for every sweet smile she gave him, he would give one in return.

The bell to the shop rings. When Abby looks up, she is in shock for a second. Frank is there and in his hand is a bouquet of Gerber Daisies. Smiling widely, surprised by his gesture, she takes the flowers from him. “What is this for?”

“The shop's three-month anniversary.” His voice soft and… nervous? No, she must be mistaken. “It’s from my garden.” He continues softly, looking at her. Abby is one big smile, as she finds an empty vase and pour some water in. Once the flowers are in, she puts it right on the counter.

He couldn’t have picked a better flower, the Gerber Daisy being one of her favorites. She had always loved colors and could remember how her dad would always bring her mother a bouquet every Friday, filled with Gerber Daisies in all the colors the florist had.

“It… It reminded me of you.” He says softly, a gentleness to his voice that almost makes her heart ache.

“How so?” Abby asks softly, almost certain her face was flushed red at this point.

“You’re colorful.” He huffs softly, before looking down at his hands. With a shrug of his shoulders, he looks up into her eyes again. But before he can say anything, they’re interrupted by Mr. Peterson, the guy who owned the flower shop next door.

“Hello Miss Miller. Here with your flowers.”

When he sees Frank, he instantly smiles wider. “Mr. Castle, it’s such a pleasure you’ve been coming to town more.”

Frank nods and smiles, before he walks to the door in a hurry. Mr. Peterson just shrugs it off, before he begins replacing the flowers around the shop.

Abby looks down at the Daisies, gently taking one of the petals between her fingertips. So he thinks about her, huh? A warm feeling runs through her, her heart beating faster. Abby wondered what he was about to say, when they got interrupted? God, she wishes she knew.

Still caressing the soft petal, she barely hears when Mr. Peterson speaks to her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Peterson. What?”

“Just said I was done, Dear. Have a good day.” He looks at her hand, before shooting her a knowing smile. He snickers softly as he leaves the store. Great, now that’ll be all over town. But somehow, she really doesn’t care. She turns to the flowers again and then notices something on the counter. A wallet.

Confused, she picks it up and looks for an ID. A huge grin spreads as she reads the name. Francis Cast-… Castiglione? Italian? And a Francis, huh? Curious, she reads the rest. His address, birthday and… Wait… His birthday was only a few days away. Should she…? No, that would be crazy, wouldn’t it? He would probably hate it if she did anything.

If he wanted to celebrate his birthday, he would say so, right? But maybe he didn’t say anything because-

Before she can finish the thought, some customers walk in. As she helps them pick out some cakes, Frank comes back. He sees his wallet and gestures to Abby that he found it, before leaving again.

A week later, Abby is sitting in her car, heading down a small forest road. This was probably crazy, but she really wanted to do something nice for Frank.

The last few months they had gotten closer and dared she think, had become friends? And friends didn’t let another friend be alone on their birthday.

Finally, after 4 wrong turns and 50 checks to many with the GPS, Abby finally pulls into the driveway. As she looks around, she is at a loss for words. The cabin is beautiful, taken straight out of a travel magazine. Beautiful wood and stones, perfectly matched, looking gorgeous against the green of the woods. Near the treeline, there are huge stacks of lumber.

The whole place is really quiet, peaceful. She gets why Frank loves it up here.

From a small gap in the trees, Frank emerges, followed by two pitbulls. When he sees Abby, he drops his axe on a log and walks towards her car, a frown on his face.

Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea. As he strides towards her car, she braces herself. Ready to be scolded, told to fuck off. She slowly exits the car, smiling gently at Frank.

“What are you doing here?”

She can’t quite decipher his expression. A mixture of anger and shock is painted on his face. Maybe even panic. Abby gets it. She’s probably the first one up here in years, maybe ever. “Sorry, I… It’s your birthday, so I wanted to-”

“How do you know?” He demands, looking into her eyes, confusion written all over his face.

“I… I looked in your wallet. To see who left it.” She bites her lip, looking at the ground like a scolded child. When she looks back up into his eyes, his expression has softened.

“Sorry, I… I never have visitors.”

“And now I see why.” Abby smiles nervously, gesturing towards his intimidating posture. Frank instantly relaxes.

A small wine comes from behind him, and they both look at the dogs, sitting nicely, waiting to be called over. Frank whistles and the dogs rush to Abby, almost knocking her over. She’s always loved dogs, grew up with them and had actually been thinking about adopting one after she moved out here.

“Easy boy.” Frank says softly to the eager dark one. God, his deep rich voice always makes her heart flutter.

“They’re cute. What’s their names?” Abby asks curiously, her eyes never leaving the dogs. Always been a dog person, maybe even liking them more than humans. Dogs are honest, their emotions and intentions always clear. She liked that.

“This guy is Max.” He points to the dark grey Pitbull, before turning to the red one. “And this little boy is… Red.”

Frank shuffles slightly, scratching the back of his head, as he looks down at the two of them. “Max I rescued, and Red I got at a shelter. Named after someone I knew years ago.”

He smiles softly as he pats squats down and pat the young Pitbull’s head. Abby couldn’t help but wonder who this person was. Must’ve have meant something to Frank. Abby stands again, brushing the dirt and dog hairs of her fingers. Suddenly nervous, she smoothed down her dress, before gesturing towards her car. “I actually brought you something.”

Abby excitedly opens the door, pulling out the cake and a present. Her smile falls slightly, when she sees his face. Abby was expecting him to be surprised, but she never would have expected this.

He looks overwhelmed, like he can’t believe what is happening. Abby’s heart clenches at the thought. How long had it been since anyone had done anything like this for him?

He gestures for her to follow, leading her to the backyard. While he goes inside to get plates, Abby sits down in a lounge chair. She didn’t know what she expected his place to look like, but it wasn’t quite this. New stylish furniture that complimented the wood of the cabin. It was all very clean and minimalistic, but still somehow had soul. She looks towards the terrace door, dying to know what it looks like on the inside. Maybe next time.

Frank comes back with a tray, holding plates, cups and a teapot. But that’s not what has caught Abby’s attention.

While inside, Frank has taken his jacket off and holy fuck. Abby had never seen arms as his, suddenly feeling her throat dry up. Toned muscular arms, flexed, so thick. And God, the shirt. Until now, she had only seen him with a jacket or sweatshirt on, never really knowing what kind of body was underneath. But now, as his tight t-shirt clings to him slightly damp skin, nothing is left to imagination. A broad, muscular chest. Nipples perked in the cool afternoon air. Abs dancing under the thin fabric. She bites her lip, wondering what he would look like without it, sweat dripping down his chest as he chops wood?

It takes every ounce of willpower for Abby to look away, before she gets caught. Her head now filled with images she wouldn’t forget anytime soon, she clears her throat, pushing the cake towards Frank.

“I… I-“ she coughs, stumbling over her words. Damn, how could he affect her so much without even doing anything. “I didn’t know what flavor you liked, so I made carrot cake.”

“Well, lucky for you I love cream cheese frosting.” A wide smile plays on his handsome features. Just when she didn’t think he could be any prettier, he smiles.

Frank carves them both a piece and then they eat in silence, looking out over his grounds. A big field of grass surrounded by trees. To one side, there’s a big greenhouse filled with plants and raised beds with herbs. To the other side there’s bushes with berries.

All over the yard there’s flowers, making it a colorful space. But closest to her, in many pots on the terrace, there’s Gerber Daisies. Just like the ones he gave her, in all colors of the rainbow. “This place is really wonderful, Frank.”

He just smiles and mutters a quiet thank you through a mouthful of cake. Abby giggles softly, the sight of Frank with his mouth full priceless, his cheeks filled out like a chipmunk. “So, I take it the cake was a hit?”

“Best damn cake I’ve had in years, sweetheart.”

She’s so damn easy. One ‘sweetheart’ leaves his lips and she’s a puddle. But to be fair, that voice of his is something else.

Abby gently pushes the present towards him. Frank tears the paper away, smiling when he sees the book. Okay, sure, maybe she should have gotten him something else. But she didn’t know him well enough, and he did seem to love books.

“Looking at what books you eyed at the shop, I thought that you might enjoy ‘The Call of the Wild’.”

“I love it, thank you.” Frank smiles softly, opening the book, inspecting the pages. Suddenly captivated by the way his fingers gently dance over the pages, Abby can’t help but wish she was that book. To have his fingers dance over her skin like that. She swallows a huge lump, looking at his hands. How could such a big book look small in his hands?

After a moment's silence, he looks into her eyes, suddenly looking a little nervous. “Abby, you’re going to the county fair, right?”

Slightly surprised by his question, she tells him how Mildred coerced her into helping set up. “But my evening is free. Why?”

“Maybe… You’d wanna go with me?”

Abby isn’t sure he heard him right. But the way he smiles, she knows it’s true. She can’t hold back her smile, as she happily agrees.

She was already tripping. Did he just ask her on a date? As she looks up into his beautiful chocolate eyes, a soft smile on his face, her heart flutters. Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

Tagging: @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @chvoswxtch @theradioactivespidergwen @danzer8705 @lucy-sky @yanna-banana @murdock-and-the-sea @mattmurdocksscars @boliv-jenta @darlingshane @pedrito-friskito

And some no pressure tags 🙈: @anna-hawk @feelmyskinonyourskin @chellestrash @chelseasdagger @loveroftoomanyfandoms

#lumberjack frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle #frank castle AU #frank castle x abigail miller #whisk me away

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