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theeveninghour · 28 days

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All My Dreaming | Part 2

Summary: After accepting the mating bond, you and Azriel explore some missed opportunities. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

A/N: Thank you for the love on All My Dreaming!!! Not to be horny on main but I couldn’t stop writing for this story, here’s ~8k more words of extremely sweet and very nasty Azriel. I really wanted to write a fun scene with Mor and the gang Rita’s but couldn’t find a place for it in the first part, so y’all are getting it here. There is like, so very little plot here, I just wanted to write a few more scenes and give some additional backstory on these two because I think they’re cute. Also, I love writing little vignettes for this storyline so I might post a few more, much smaller (lol) snippets of them as an epilogue!

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

WC: 8.4k (i have no self control)

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, cunnilingus, face sitting, more love declarations, Cassian being a lil flirty in flashbacks, soft dom!Az, little hints at jealous!Az, the slightest amount of angst, talk of previous abuse (but nothing too descriptive) and slight breeding kink because Az has one (I feel this in my bones). Azriel is down astronomically bad for the reader in this one y’all. The last 2.7k is literally just porn lol

Part 1

True to his word, Azriel kept you in the meadow until dawn. The sun beginning to paint the night-sky with sepia hued pinks and oranges. You’d long since finished the wine, eaten half the bread, and most of the fruit and cheeses. He laid against the quilt, wings spread magnificently as you laid against him, thigh over his abdomen, head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing idly at the tattoo inking his chest. He hummed contentedly, and you ventured your eyes up his, finding his gaze already on you.

“Can I ask you something?” You tested the waters of this new thing; bond, love, cocoon that enveloped you. “Anything,” he smiled. “When did you know?” You asked softly. He furrowed his brow. “That I loved you?” He asked and you nodded, turning your upper half to rest your chin on the hand that had stilled against his chest. He laughed. Mother above, he laughed so warmly that it made your eyes crinkle and lips spread into a grin from the sound alone.

“You’re going to hate this,” he said as a preface, smiling, dimples appearing as he looked to you, “but it was a few weeks after you joined us, and Cassian mouthed off at you about being late to training.” You raised a brow. “You fell in love with me, while I was being…….degraded?” You asked, a little deadpan. “No,” he shook his head in correction, still chuckling. “It was what you did after.”

Cassian kept a strict training schedule. He trained in the early hours of the morning on the balcony at the House of Wind, ate breakfast, then moved to outdoor weapons and flight training off the banks of the Sidra until the early afternoon. He was strenuous and strict in his routine, as was Azriel. You’d begun training with them the week before, and if you were totally honest, you weren’t fully comfortable with the two brothers yet. Cassian was rough around the edges, brutish, with a mouth that often got him into trouble. Azriel was quiet, observant in a way that unnerved you. You’d caught his eyes following you often and you hated the warmth that pressed into your cheeks when he did.

Rhysand had warned them to give you time to adjust. You’d been brutally attacked by Beron’s dogs only a few months ago and forced to live in the wilds for nearly six weeks, eating foraged fauna and what game you could kill with a makeshift spear you’d carved using sharpened obsidian and a walnut branch. Your body grew weary in those weeks; endless fear, starvation, and sleepless would do that. You were still a jittery little thing, like a wild animal, jumpy when Amren or Mor managed to sneak up on you by accident.

Azriel recognized these symptoms and allowed you a leniency he didn’t normally offer his trainees, but trauma, physical and mental, took a toll on the body as he well knew. He’d gifted you a golden hilted dagger on your second week with them and asked if you knew how to use it. You held it in your palm, noting the blue stone that sat in the bolster and double edged blade that you could see your reflection in. You looked a little gaunt, but your cheeks held color again, your lips were fuller, no longer dry and chapped from mountain winds and cold nights.

“I know how to use a blade Shadowsinger,” you said in an even tone. You didn’t call him by his name then. You also called Cassian ‘General’ to his face, and ‘asshole’ behind his back. “Most females learn to use them,” you followed up, “out of necessity.” Azriel hated to dwell on those words, hated to think about what you’d gone through before Beron, what your father had done. He nodded once, and placed a sheath and belt down on the table next to you before taking his leave.

You’d awoken late for training that day, the sun had rose to a bright position in the mid-morning sky and you knew you’d never hear the end of it from Cassian. You dressed slowly into your training leathers, belting your dagger around your hips and took a deep breath. You walked to the balcony, noticing the males absence and winnowed to the training grounds at the Sidra. Cassian’s eyes found yours immediately and he sheathed his broadsword, turning to look at you. Azriel was perched on a fallen tree stump nearby, and his eyes traced your face, noting the darkened circles there. He’d heard you screaming in your sleep last night and his heart ached at the sound, his shadows slinking off to find you.

“So you didn’t forget,” Cassian said, muscular arms crossing over his chest. “Tell me something, little girl, do you even want to be here?” He stressed the word want in his sentence in a way that had both you and Azriel narrowing your eyes. “This is the third day this week that you’ve been late to training, and the second that you’ve missed morning warm ups altogether.” He huffed a disbelieving laugh, “I’m beginning to think Rhys was wrong about you.” Azriel went still and he felt a bit of rage creep up his spine at his brother’s harshness.

In the blink of an eye, you’d unsheathed your dagger and thrown it at the Illyrian general. It whizzed past his head, nicking his cheek, and landed in the training dummy behind him. “Fuck you,” you’d growled teeth bared, as you shifted a stance that begged for a fight. Cassian turned and pulled the knife from the dummy’s eye socket, before throwing in the dirt at your feet. “A little to the left next time you try to kill me,” he smirked. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have missed, asshole,” you said as you fixed him with a glare and your jaw ticked in anger. Cassian’s face broke into a shit eating grin and he laughed, which made you sneer with frustration.

“Good to see you’re still alive in there,” he said smiling, “I was hoping we’d see that spark.” Your anger dissolved as fast as it built up. You reached down to pick your dagger from the dirt and sheathed it at your waist. “Seriously, Cassian, fuck you,” you said and grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows before stalking off to train alone. Cassian sighed and went to follow you but Azriel rose to feet to stop him, stepping into his path. “Let her calm down,” he suggested, placing a hand to his brother’s arm. Cassian sighed. He knew he was being rough with you, but it the only thing left he could think to do. “We’ve tried nice, brother. Tough love worked on Amren, maybe it’ll work on her too,” Cassian spoke softly before trotting after you.

A few paces off you’d begun firing arrows into a target carved in the bark of an elm tree, teeth grinding. Cassian was right in his intent though, you had to get out of your own head if you were to move forward. You pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocking it on the bowstring and pulling it back until the bow met the pile at the tip. You heard him coming before you saw him.

“Listen, I’m just—” you heard Cassian’s voice and turned then, aiming and firing in his direction. The arrow flew through the air towards the General. The feathered fletching caught the bun at the top of his head, pulling hairs loose, before the tip burrowed into the tree behind him with an echoing noise.

“Mother above, you could’ve killed me!” The General shouted, face blanched. Azriel’s lip quirked up and he looked to you again, you were smiling, closed mouth but smiling, and he felt his heart grow warm at the sight. “I told you, asshole, I don’t fucking miss when I’m aiming to kill.”

You laughed aloud, cheeks warm as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest. “I’ll go around threatening Cassian more often if it gets me a mate in the end.” The male at your side chuckled warmly and his hand found yours on his sternum. “He still talks about it, you know?” He offered with a shake of his head. “It was precisely the kind of thing Nesta would’ve done too.”

You smiled back. “Good to know you Illyrians have a type.” He looked to you then and he smiled, eyes tracing your lips, nose, lashes, and the Winter white hair haloing your face. “Not a type, just blessings from the Mother,” he murmured softly. His hand trailed up your arm and pushing your hair off your shoulder and down your back. You blushed, warmth blooming on your chest and running up your neck to your face, painting your skin pink.

“Gods, who knew you had such a silver tongue,” you said chastising, looking to where his fingers played with yours as they rested on his chest. “You used to be so quiet,” you added, letting a small laugh escape you. Azriel shrugged and pushed up on an elbow as his hand left yours to run up your arm and cup your cheek. “Good to know you’re still thinking about my tongue,” he whispered before kissing you for the millionth time that night.

It was mid-morning when Azriel ported you both to the River House. It was surprisingly empty, and you made your way to the kitchen to seek out food, still in the dress from the night before, though it was now wrinkled on your body. Rhysand had stocked the kitchen it would seem, as you found an array of fruits, vegetables, and meats in the cold storage there.

“I guess Rhys was serious about quarantining us here,” you laughed before looking over your shoulder to find your mate, leaned against the counter, watching you with warmth. “If I cook for you again, are you going to ravish me?” You asked jokingly, pulling a knife from the block to begin prepping carrots for a quick stew.

He pressed forward then, coming behind you to push you into the marble, bringing his lips your shoulder and his hands to your belly. “I plan on ravishing you either way,” he said, lips tracing to the hollow below your ear, a spot that made you whimper as he’d found out the night before and catalogued in his head. You pressed your hips back against his, loving the feel of his body against your own.

“Very interested in that, though I think it’ll be easier on a full stomach, so maybe go bathe while I cook,” you said, turning your head and nudging your nose into his own. He laughed again and the noise set your heart to skittering. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to having him like this, so free and warm.

You’d seen Azriel in every form. The warrior that fought with skilled precision, teeth bared as he cut down his adversaries; the Spymaster that tortured, maimed, and killed Night Court threats; the brother that took his friend’s teasing in stride, lips quirking silently as he shook his head. You’d never had him like this though, laughing and full of affection, touching and grasping so freely.

His hand found your chin and you knew he’d heard your thoughts again from the look in his eyes. His fingers stroked up your jawline, fingers pushing hair behind your ear. “There is no one in this realm, on this continent, male or female, that has as much of me as you do on any given day,” he whispered before he pushed away to stroll out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You let a shaky breath go from your chest. He was trouble.

Later, after you’d both bathed and eaten until your bellies were full, you sat at the dining room table, sipping a glass of wine. “You asked me this morning when I knew,” he started, setting down his wine glass as his index finger began tracing circles into red table cloth next to it. “When did you know?” You laughed and took another sip of wine, you’d need it to keep up with him. “Mine’s not as violent,” you fixed him with a pointed look and he smirked.

You took a deep breath, “it was several months later, at Rita’s.” He laughed warmly in disbelief. “What?” Surely you weren’t serious? “What in the Cauldron could’ve happened at Rita’s to make you fall in love with me?” His eyes were twinkling under the fae lights.

Mor had begged you to go and you’d told her no at least thirteen times. You’d grown fond of the blonde as had she with you. She’d helped you immensely in your first months with the Night Court. She knew what it was to be hollowed out by trauma, particularly trauma that extended from those in the Autumn Court. She also knew bad fathers. You were grateful to her and you’d opened to her in a way you’d hadn’t yet with anyone else in Rhys’ Inner Circle.

“Please?” She tried again, “We can go into the city and get you a dress, I’ll even pay for it!” You rolled your eyes, “You won’t give up until I agree, huh?” She’d laughed then. Her laugh was the kind of full bodied female laugh you hoped you’d get back some day. “You already know me so well, Little One.” She nudged your shoulder, before patting your cheek and leaving you alone to dress for the day ahead.

Little One had started a few months prior when you poked fun at Cassian during a dinner. You’d been ready to maul the General in your first weeks, but you’d settled into a peaceful truce. He’d been talking loudly about the female he’d been with the night prior, all bravado and innuendo. “Amazing you were able to land her at all with that ego,” you’d muttered taking a sip of your wine. Amren sat across from you and her lips quirked as she looked your way in silent agreement. She and Cassian were also at odds often. Cassian slid his eyes to you and they narrowed as you feigned innocence, setting your glass down and looking to your nails. “Did you just mock me, Little One?” He asked, head tilting as he watched you pick at a cuticle.

You met his eyes and raised a brow. “Tell me Cassian, is what they say about Illyrian wingspans true?” You said, eyes glancing to Rhysand and Azriel, both looking thrilled at this development. “Cause as I see it, you look to be outmatched.” The room went quiet before Cassian bellowed a loud laugh, bringing a hand to his chest. “Cauldron save us, she’s got jokes,” he snickered and your lips curved into a smile. He turned to you then, lips smirking. “For the record, it’s not the wingspan that matters, it’s how you use it.” His rebuttal caused you to let out a breathless laugh as you picked up your wine and rolled your eyes.

Mor had dragged you into the shopping district of Velaris to find an appropriate dress. The first store was a bust, and the second was looking to be the same. “Come on, Little One, there has to be one you’re interested in!” She’d said, voice going a little whiny on the tail end of the sentence. You’d scanned the boutique again, and noticed a dress hanging in the far back corner that was looked like threaded starlight. “That one,” you pointed and her eyes slid to it before her lips broke into a knowing grin. “You go to the dressing room and I’ll grab it,” she offered and you’d nodded, wanting this to be over as soon as possible.

She’d brought you the dress and you shut the curtain in her face as she laughed. You’d undressed slowly, eyes scanning skin as it appeared. Your eyes zoomed in on the heavy scarring at your legs, Gods you hated those markings. Once the dress slid on, you pulled up the zipper at the side and adjusted the bust line.

You loosed a loud breath, it was…. generous in the amount of skin it showed and the style screamed Night Court. You turned and realized the back went down to your bottom, showcasing the two dimples at the small of your back. The slit at the side came all the way to your hip. ‘Cauldron, this isn’t a dress, this is a scrap of fabric,’ you’d thought.

You turned and opened the curtain stepping out to find Mor looking at you with an open mouth. “Are you sure you aren’t into females?” She’d asked. “Because I’d love to keep you to myself tonight.” You’d blushed and laughed heartily. “Is it good?” You asked cautiously, turning in a circle. “Good? Little One, the males will be on their knees,” she said eyes twinkling with mischief.

You’d bought the dress despite the insecurities and gone home the House of Wind to get dressed. Mor had sent Nuala and Cerridwen to you to help with your hair and make up and you’d thanked them profusely.

As the moon rose for the night, you stood in your quarters staring at the mirror on the wall opposite your bed. You had looked lively again, your cheeks were fuller and the hollows under your eyes were less bruised than they had been months prior. You sat on a bench at the foot of your bed and started to pull on your heels, a leg shining through the slit of the dress.

Once you’d buckled the strap your shoes, you stood, a little wobbly. It’d nearly a year since you’d worn heels and the last time you had, you were set to be engaged to the Autumn Court princeling. You refused to dwell on that and moved toward the door, opening it and stepping into the hall.

Cassian was exiting of his room as you were shutting your door and your eyes met down the corridor. He let out a wolf whistle and began walking your way. “Well, well, well,” he started and you braced for his comment, “don’t you look pretty enough to eat.” You grimaced and looked at him before scoffing, “pig.” His laughter made your lips curve into a smile.

You strolled down the steps to find Rhysand and Azriel waiting there. Rhysand looked to you and smiled warmly, “You clean up nice, Little One.” Azriel’s eyes found yours next and his jaw dropped, then shut quickly, muscle ticking. A gloved hand at his side set into a fist and he could hear the knuckles crack. “I think she’ll be fighting the males off tonight,” Mor piped, appearing next to you, “wouldn’t you lot agree?”

Rhysand and Cassian hummed their agreements but Azriel’s eyes couldn’t look away from your form. The dress draped your body like liquid starlight, the slit at your hip had his fists clenching at the desire to touch. Mor walked you past the males and he caught glimpse of your exposed back and something primal reared its head shouting at him to grasp, lick, bite until you were covered in his marks. Cassian flanked the Shadowsinger and whistled low, eyes following you. “I’ll have to find her on the dance floor tonight,” he said, eyes gleaming as they traced your retreating form. Azriel, though he loved his brother dearly, wanted to rip his throat out for even glancing at you.

Rita’s was littered with intoxicated fae. Mor grabbed your arm and pulled you to the bar, while Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel made their way to the section explicitly reserved for their use. As you stood at the bar with Mor, a male came up to you, leaning into your space and asking your name.

The male ventured a touch to your arm and you leaned away, disliking the overt physical attention. As he spoke, a gloved hand appeared between you and Azriel pushed his way into the space without apology or acknowledgement. “Hey, I was talking to her!” The male tried to protest loudly before Azriel turned and fixed him with a devastating look, causing the male to wilt before putting his hands up in surrender and walking away.

You stumbled out a laugh as he turned back to you. “I think you may have hurt his feelings,” you said smiling, looking to the Shadowsinger. He eyes were already on you again, tracing your face, and hair, the long line of your neck. “That’s much too bad,” he said, signaling the bartender over and you both ordered a round of drinks.

“You look beautiful tonight,” the words came out of Azriel in a rushed whispered, as if he’d forced them out against his will. You turned to meet his eyes and your face warmed at the look there. “I was so nervous to wear this,” you breathed, “the last time I was in a dress and heels like these, I was engaged to marry a Vanserra.” You let out a small, cynical laugh. “Gods, I’m so glad I left.”

Azriel softened then. “He didn’t deserve you, Autumn didn’t deserve you, I hope you know that,” he’d said, gloved hands laying flat on the bar top, the length of his middle finger grazing your own. You wanted to reach out to them, to ask why he wore the gloves around you, but you resisted.

“For what it’s worth,” he continued, “I’m also glad you left, I’m glad you’re here most of all.” You met his hazel eyes again and traced his face. He was likely one of the most beautiful males you’d ever seen and he was being awfully sweet with you. He looked to Rhys then, the High Lord likely speaking into his mind. He smiled turning back to you, “Rhysand says he’s also glad you’re here,” he said mockingly and rolled his eyes. You laughed, a small tinkering thing, that made Azriel’s heart beat quicken. “Thanks, Az,” you smiled broadly at him and he knew for sure and certain you would ruin him.

You turned to your drink then as the bartender sat it down in front of you. You picked it up and took a long sip. If Azriel kept looking at you like that and speaking to you in hushed tones that made your heart race, you’d need about five more of these.

You heard him take a deep, steadying breath at your side, turned to look at him, brow furrowing slightly. You were ready to ask if he was alright when he finally spoke. “Cassian said he was going to ask you to dance tonight,” he ventured and you snorted. ‘Of course he did,’ you thought with a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head. “Would you allow me to be your first?” He asked, holding out a gloved hand.

You looked to his hand then back to his hopeful hazel eyes, and you blinked a little slowly, a little disbelievingly. Just when you thought you figured him out, he threw you for a loop. You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. As your body moved with his, you couldn’t help but wish for forever in this moment, forever in his hands, and his eyes. Mother above, you were in trouble.

“That dress was pure sin, Little One,” Azriel smirked. “And I told you, I am quite fond of dancing.” You huffed a laugh and looked to him, a little bashful. Azriel laughed softly again. “Cassian pouted for days after that night,” he spoke, “he was mad I stole you away.” You wondered if Cassian could tell how utterly smitten you were after that night. “I think he was a little infatuated with you in those early days too.”

You grimaced. “That’s much too bad,” you said, echoing his words from centuries prior. You stood then and stepped towards him to halt at his side, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair. “I always had eyes for you, baby.”

You trailed a hand up his arm to his shoulder, then back to the shoulder joint of his wing, tracing the bone up to the clawed crest. His breath guttered out of him as he closed his eyes, brows furrowing at the sensation that zipped down his spine and settled in his lower abdomen.

“One more question for you,” you said softly. “No,” he growled out, “I’ve had enough questions, I want to have you again.” His eyes opened and looked to you, scarred hands grasping your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there. “One more and I’ll give you whatever you want,” you offered. He raised a brow. “Whatever I want?” He questioned and you nodded. “Even if I want to bend you over this table and take you from behind until you come all over my cock?”

Your eyes watched his predatory gaze and a feline grin appeared on your face. You laughed again, “considering that’s a win-win, I’ll gladly trade for that.” He laughed too and rolled his eyes in fondness. “Fine,” he conceded, “one more question, mate.” His hand traced back, grasping the flesh of your ass through your thin silk housedress and you gasped, “then I get to have you in every way I want.”

You had to shake the lust from your thoughts, focusing on the question that had been circling your mind since your return to River House. “Why didn’t you to tell me of the bond?” You asked softly, hand resting on the arm that held you. He took a deep breath, he should’ve expected this eventually, but in all honesty, he’d hoped to put it off as long as possible.

“I just mean,” you took a shaky breath, growing a little nervous. “It snapped so early for you, and I—” you swallowed, “I wouldn’t have turned you away, surely you must know that?” Your eyes found his and he saw the imploring look there, brows slanting as your eyes swam with emotions. He took a grounding breath and his hand traced up your hip to your back as he pulled you in to bury his face in the soft of your stomach.

“I was scared,” he said, though it came out muffled. You combed fingers through his hair soothingly and he tilted his head up to face you. “You were—” he stopped himself, “you are the single most magical thing in this realm.” He spoke softly, as if he was scared he’d burst the bubble of newfound love that had surrounded the two of you in the last few weeks.

“When I was a child, my half brothers tortured me,” he started, eyes wincing. “They did this, you know,” he held up a scarred hand. You nodded, Rhysand told you of Azriel’s brothers and father years ago when the subject of Windhaven came up and how you would likely not be sent on any missions there. “For my gift with shadows, they’d called me every name under the sun, insisted I was a bastard child, beat me, shunned me, cast me out. I was alone until Rhys and his mother took me in.” Your eyes teared up when you thought of how isolated he must’ve felt, how damaged. You knew feeling well.

“When I knew I loved you, I resolved myself as unworthy of your gaze, your touch, anything,” he sighed and his hands pulled from you to fall in his lap. “I figured I’d been alone for centuries up until that point, and it was likely I’d be alone forever.” You pulled one of his hands into your own and brought the knuckles to your lips. “I love you,” you said softly, lips resting against the marred skin there, “I hope you know that.”

He looked to you and he smiled, a small watery smile as his eyes closed and he nodded his head. There was that gift again. “You know,” he said, “more than your beauty, or strength, I admire your courage and vulnerability. I think that’s what scared me the most.” He spoke softly again, wanting to preserve the shroud of gentle love that surrounded the two of you.

“I saw how you were with Mor and Amren. How you cared for Cass, despite his explosive anger when Rhys went Under the Mountain for fifty years. How you attended Rhys when he returned in shambles, traumatized and broken.” He looked to you, eyes shining. “You took it all in stride with such….. care and endless love and I—” he paused, bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t think I’d ever be worthy of your heart, of your attention, so I took what I could get. Your glances, your smiles, the teasing at dinners. I took it all and I made myself content with it,” he shuttered out a fragile, broken breath, eyes falling to the shadows that gathered at his feet attempting to console their master.

“I’ve loved you in secret for two centuries, Little One, I’ve loved you so much my chest ached and I thought I would die from the unsung bond that resided there. My soul would know yours in any life. At the ends of the earth in total darkness, it would still find you.” He let out a shuddering breath, “you’re the other half of me.” His eyes found yours then and the look there made you feel overwrought with emotion.

You and Azriel had been friends for two centuries. You laughed and cried together. You’d shared meals and secrets, dances and fleeting glances, little chaste touches. You’d told him of your father, of Beron, showed him your scars. You’d pined for him for just as long and to know he’d silently yearned for you in return, your heart felt like it might break apart.

“The bond snapped for me during the war,” you offered him a small secret of your own and his eyes found yours, going wide at the revelation.

The second war with Hybern had been a brutal thing. Feyre and Cassian had taken to recruiting help out of the Ancient Prison on the northern shore of the Night Court due to Prythian’s limited numbers. You’d known it was a suicide mission going in and you’d nearly been right. You’d fought alongside death gods and monsters alike in a battle that would be legend for ages to come.

“I wrote you a letter before we left for battle,” another secret, but for him, you’d bare your soul. “I was going to tell you then,” you continued, “I’d been in love with you for 189 years at that point. I was so far gone for you but I’d assumed, that if you wanted me, I would’ve known. You would’ve said something, anything. So I put it all in a letter, worried I wouldn’t return alive.” His breath hitched, remembering the sight of you impaled on a sword, bleeding out in his arms. He’d taken the soldier’s head off their body as penance and it still didn’t feel like enough. You let out a small gurgling laugh, throat tight, eyes wet with tears. “Sometimes I can’t believe I did.”

You took a steadying breath and leaned to kiss his forehead, his eyes closing from the contact, mouth humming. You leaned your cheek on the crown of his head, your thumb rubbing soothing circles in the space behind his ear. His hands went around to your back, nose and cheek resting against the cradle of your chest as he listened to your heart, still beating strong beneath. The two of you were the sort of image that artists carved into marble, the picture of lovers so inseparably bound that they were one eternally, in every life.

“In that letter I apologized for not telling you sooner, said I didn’t need the Cauldron to know it was you my soul sang for. That you were the one the stars had fated me to meet.” He clenched his eyes shut from where his head rested on your rib cage. Every word you uttered was like a poultice to his damaged soul, filling the cracks that had been there since his adolescence.

He was wrong when he’d thought you’d ruin him. No, you’d save him, from the darkness that encroached his mind, the insecurities that lingered there. You were a flower blooming against all odds in the shadows, and he’d do anything for you. All his wasted centuries of dreaming had been given a name and form in you.

“I’m glad I ran from Autumn that day, glad it was Rhys that found me in the wilds, glad it was the Night Court that saved me, but more than anything, I am glad that every step I’ve taken in this life has led me straight to you.” Your hand dragged forward, over his cheek, to gently tip his chin up to face your gaze. “May you never doubt the depths of my love for you.” You kissed his forehead then before moving your lips to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose. His eyes fell shut and his hands came to hold on tightly to your wrists for fear he’d float away. You kissed his cheek, and eyelids, before making your way to his mouth.

This kiss was just as electrifying as the first and he pressed his insistent mouth to yours desperately. He pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth and took your gasp as the opportunity to slip his tongue against your own. He could kiss you for a millennia and he would not get enough. He wanted all that you had to give and everything after that too. Nothing, not even flying, could compare to how his heart sped when you kissed him like this. He poured centuries of yearning into it.

He pulled off of your mouth and kissed the corner of your lips before leaning back to gaze into your eyes. “I’ll need to tell Rhysand not to expect us back for a few months,” he said, hand coming up to brush a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. Your brain, still two paces behind from that kiss, registered what he was saying and you let out a breathless laugh. “Months? Thought the frenzy was a few weeks?” You replied, still smiling, tears drying and he shrugged, fingertips tracing the skin at your collarbone. “I’ve got two centuries of love to make up for,” he stated softly before smiling in a feral, cunning way, “and I plan on taking my time.”

Azriel ported you to the bedroom and you’d laughed, “I can walk you know.” He smiled, leaning down, kissing your cheek. “Save your energy, Little One.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you to stand between his legs. He allowed himself to look at you, unhurried, a little predatory. You did the same, eyes passing over tanned skin and freckles, tattoos and scars as your gaze made it’s way down to his hips, where you notice his length pressing tightly against the front of his pants. Your eyes trace back up to his, cheeks a little pink, only to find him smirking.

“Are you ever going to be sated?” You laughed. You pulled the hem of your dress up to lean over him and settle a knee next to his hip as you crawled into his lap. He hummed, pulling your hips to his own. He traced his nose along the skin of your throat, inhaling your scent, committing to memory as he nosed the silk strap of your housedress, pushing it down your shoulder and pressing his mouth to the skin there. “For you? Never.” His tongue laved at the length of your throat, as he made his way up before bringing his mouth to yours.

This kiss was slower than the one you’d shared in the dining room. Tongues entwining, teeth biting. He dove deeper, sucking against your tongue before licking along the bow of your upper lip. He rocked his hips up to meet your own, his cock sliding against your slit in a way that had you gasping. His hand pushed your gown up over your hips to your waist and his gaze fixated on the center of your hips, you’d forgone underwear after your bath. “No panties?” He breathed into your mouth. “Maybe I should’ve taken you on the dining room table after all.”

You laughed, rutting your hips against his own, loving the sound that rumbled in his chest. You pulled the little silk dress up and over your head, baring yourself entirely to his gaze. “There will time for that,” you said, voice laced with promise, “but I’d like for you to take me in a bed, properly.” He gave a little laugh then, bringing his face to your own, teasing at your mouth again. “Under the stars wasn’t romantic enough?” His hands found your hips and fingertips pressed into the flesh there. You were sure you’d be bruised all over come tomorrow.

He leaned back pulling your hips up his abdomen. “C’mere,” he commanded, jerking his head in instruction as he laid flat upon the bed, wings spreading in full. He looked like a god this way, but the way he looked at you, muscles rippling as he tensed, jaw ticking, hair debauched, love bites down the tanned column of his throat from your mouth, eyes heavy lidded with lust; if he was a god then certainly you were his goddess. He growled then the noise escaping him unbidden as he hauled you higher to his chest, your hand shooting out to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“You are a goddess and I am but a hopeless disciple,” his voice had pitched deep with want, desire alight in his eyes and you thought you might never tire of seeing him this hungry for you. His fingers dug into your thighs and he hooked your knees to pull you higher. “Let me worship you until I find absolution.” He pulled you to his chin, teeth nipping at the flesh of your inner thighs. His found your eyes again and he nodded to you. “You’re going to sit on my face, sweet one, and I am going to feast on you like the goddess you are.”

Your breath left you in a shuttering broken gasp, and you leaned up, shuffling the last few inches. His arms wrapped around your legs, caging you to his face as hands came around to open your cunt to his view. He let out a primal noise that had the air leaving your lungs in pant and your hands grasped the headboard in some pitiful attempt at grounding yourself. He nosed your clit before pulling you down on his mouth, suckling at you like a man starved.

His tongue pressed flat against your clit and you thought you might break apart. You were sensitive from the night before and you had to actively try not to rock down against his face. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled you forward, hands grasping your hips and rutting you against his hot mouth. You couldn’t help the shuddering moan that left your throat and he hummed along with you, the vibrations sending shocks up your spine.

He circled his tongue in a pattern, quick flicks then slow drags of friction that had pleasure zipping through you until your thighs were twitching, nails digging into the wood of the headboard, hips rocking on his mouth. He nosed at your clit as his tongue slipped down to circle your opening, collecting the wetness that gathered there, groaning at your taste. His lips returned to your clit and he sucked it into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, speeding the flicking of his tongue until your hands were shaking and your moans keened to a higher octave.

“Azriel,” you gasped, a trembling hand found his hair, nails scratching. “Az — fucking Gods.” You looked down to him between your thighs and he watched you, the definition of sin. His cheeks had grown pink, brows furrowed, hazel eyes gone molten as he nuzzled his face into you. He unhanded your thigh to slide back to your ass, fingernails digging into the ample flesh there before he released it and his open palm came into fierce contact with the cheek. You jolted at the impact and the sound that left you was the highest, most trembling whine he’d heard come out of you. He catalogued it in his mind for later.

His hand soothed the skin at your behind before smacking the skin again, the contact rippling across the flesh like a tiny earthquake. Your hips tilted against his chin faster, more desperate and your moans grew closer together, a little more frantic as you felt yourself approaching your peak. His tongue circled you again before he sucked the button into his mouth and began a steady, insistent pattern.

You could feel the pleasure focusing, your lower belly tightening. “Az— I swear I’m—” you gasped and your head fell back, exposing your chest and neck to his greedy view. “I’m going to come, baby,” you whined deep, hips canting in tight circles, desperate for release. He hummed an affirmation and his hands grasped your hips to guide your through it. Your release hit and the moan that left you was shattering.

You leaned back, hands finding purchase on his chest, as he pressed kisses to your thighs. “Gods,” you gasped, falling to his side as you moved off of him and pressed a hand to your chest, catching your breath. “Fuck me,” your eyes shut for a moment and you felt his lips pressing tender kisses to your eyelids. He kissed to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, before whispering devastation there. “I told you my love, I want to take you apart slow.”

His lips came to your chest, pressing a kiss to the jugular notch at the base of your throat between the clavicles. “There is no war,” kiss, “no mission,” another kiss, moving south to the globe of your breast, “no threat this time.” He breathed into your sternum, tongue tracing the skin of your cleavage.

You were right that Azriel was mouthy. Mother above, now that the gates had opened, he was bent on taking everything from you and you would let him. You would let him shatter you to pieces, trusting he’d put you back together again.

“You’re wearing too much,” you complained, fingers pulling at the waist of his trousers, which seemed to have grown impossibly tight around his hardness. Your hand pushed under the band and fingers grasped him firmly, his gasp escaping directly into the skin over your heart. He rutted into your hand, mouth coming up to your own as he kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue.

You pulled back from the kiss and fixed him with an imploring look. “Can I put my mouth on you now?” You asked softly, batting your eyelashes a bit, just shy of begging. He felt desire rip through him, his cock giving a jerk. A growl released from his throat. “As much as I want you on your knees for me,” he breathed deeper. “As much as I want to fuck this pretty little mouth,” his thumb tugged at your bottom lip and you leaned forward to pull it between your lips, tonguing the scarred skin there as you sucked.

His eyes fixated on the action, pupils blown wide. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and spread his hand to grasp your neck at the height of your throat, “I thought our bargain was every way that I wanted you?” He watched your eyes flutter as he squeezed from the sides, your breath hitching, cunt growing wetter. He could smell your arousal and the feral need of the newly minted bond had him feeling utterly primal. “And right now, I want you on your hands and knees, begging as I take you from behind.” His voice had pitched deep, and you thought you might never recover from this.

His hand traced down to your wrist, pulling it from his cock and then he patted your ass. “Be a good girl for me.” Your breath came out shaky and you nodded, scrambling to turn around and bend down to present yourself for him. A pleased hum settled in his chest as he stood to slip off his trousers before kneeling behind you. He ran his eyes up the expanse of your back, the scars that now resided there. He’d kill anyone who threatened you again, he’d take hands from their bodies if they touched you.

He watched your shoulders roll as you adjusted your weight, and he was reminded of every backless gown you’d worn in the last two centuries. How he had never allowed himself to touch you in the way he wanted.

He ran a scarred hand up the center of your back, leaning forward and grasping your neck from behind, bringing you up and into the long line of his front. His nose trailed your shoulder and his lips found the spot below your ear again. His teeth came in contact with the flesh there, biting then pressing his tongue into the skin to soothe the sting. The little whimper you let out made him smile, he loved you like this. His other hand reached down to guide his cock to your core, hips dragging the length through to slick there. His brain catalogued each sound that you made, he was mapping you out slowly, learning your body and memorizing all.

The hand holding your neck released its grip, and he pushed you back forward, your hands trembled as they came to hold your weight.

Before leaving you, his fingers gathered your hair and he wrapped the length of it around his hand once before fisting and pulling, causing a low moan to escape you. “Hold on, little mate.” His voice ground out and he guided himself into your warm cunt, pulling back once, then twice to work you open until he sheathed himself fully.

His hips were flush against the flesh of your ass as he ground in and your breath began to come in pants. You were so in over your head and you loved it. He laughed, ‘I heard that, my love,’ he spoke into your mind. ‘Let me know if you want to stop.’ You nearly laughed aloud. ‘As if,’ you repeated your words from the night before.

His hand tugged at your hair in response as he pulled out to the tip and slammed back in, hard and deep. Your back arched and your arms threatened collapsed. He began a slow and steady pace, rutting to the hilt and pulling out before slamming back home, skin slapping against skin. You could hear the loud suck of your cunt on every pull, the noise itself was desperately erotic, and Azriel fucking loved it. He wanted you like this like always. He wanted to stay in the warmth of your cunt for the rest of his days. He picked up his pace and groaned when he felt you clench around him as a wanton moan escaped you.

His hand released your hair and he leaned over your form, kissing your shoulders, holding you tightly as he pushed back to the hilt and ground in, small cants of his hips causing your breath to tremble.

“Azriel, baby, you’re gonna ruin me,” you spoke quietly, head falling forward. He laughed darkly, biting at the skin at the top of your spine. His hand grasped the front of your throat and brought you back up into him, mouthing at your shoulder. “Tell me you’re mine,” he ground out, hips pushing faster. His other hand found its way to your front, tracing down your soft stomach to rub slow circles at your clit. “Tell me you’re mine and let me fuck you into oblivion.”

You groaned feeling your orgasm crawling up your spine, cunt tensing. “I’ve been yours for two centuries,” you gasped out, breathless, head falling back to his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He growled out something primal, but you continued, delirious with pleasure as his fingers and cock broke you apart. “I’ll give you anything.” His fingers tightened at your neck and he slammed to the hilt, grinding in.

“Anything?” He questioned, voice shaky with need. “Would you let me take you apart? Would you let me ruin your sweet cunt daily? Would you let me fuck a baby into you?” Your mind blanked and your voice pitched into a deep moan, a base desire possessing you. “Yes,” you nodded, breathless. “All of it,” you gasped, “anything for you, mate.” His eyes pinched shut, a low whine escaped somewhere from the pits of him. Mother above. His fingers squeezed your neck and he picked up the pace, fucking you faster. You shook with each impact of his hips, your breath leaving you in small whines.

The scarred tips of his fingers worked your clit faster. “You’ll give me anything?” He questioned again, breathless, pace faltering as his own release tightened at the base of spine. “Come for me, my love, come with me.” Your breath caught at your throat as your cunt tightened impossibly around him and he groaned deep. You called his name as your climax hit and he keened a low whine, hips grinding into you, his seed painting your walls.

He released your throat and gave a shaky laugh as he grasped your chin to find your mouth. The kiss was utterly depraved and your walls fluttered again, making him groan into your mouth. You pulled back and your eyes found his over your shoulder. “A baby, huh?” You spoke, voice a little wobbly. He wanted to shrink under the weight of your gaze, the question there. “Not yet,” he spoke softly, “but if you do decide to gift me with a child, I’ll be the luckiest male alive.” You smiled and kissed him, softer this time, heart singing at the promise there.

He pulled out of you and let you collapse against the bed, rolling over to rest at your back. His eyes found your cunt and he watched with rapt obsession as his release leaked from you. You traced his gaze and a laugh escaped you. “Come here, my love,” you spoke softly, opening your arms. “I want to get some rest before you go feral again.”

He smiled, laughing lightly before crawling up the bed to where you awaited him. He settled into your embrace, head resting on your chest while his restless fingers began idly tracing the skin of your arm. Your fingers set to combing through the strands of his hair and his eyes closed, pleased with gentle intimacy of the action. “I love you,” he spoke softly, exhaustion beginning to creep in on him. You smiled, fingers trailing to his back, caressing the skin at the base of his wing. “As I love you,” you whispered, “more than anything.” He hummed and nuzzled to the skin of your chest as darkness overtook him.

#azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #i love this bat boy sm #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #Azriel smut #bat boys x reader #bat boys #azriel acosf #azriel acomaf #This is utter filth guys #These two really went at it for like 24 hours straight

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the-kr8tor · 10 months

Text

Hobie nurses you back to health.

Feat: the cats

Pairing: Hobie Brown x f!reader / Spider-Punk x f!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, fluff, description of sickness, established relationship.

My Masterlist

A continuation of this fic but you don't need to read it to understand this one.

*I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

Carefully swinging from building to building, Hobie clutches the fragile bag in his hand, careful not to spill a drop of the precious chicken soup from your favourite deli.

Before he left for patrol in the morning, you already felt the sickness crawling in your throat, so much so you didn't kiss Hobie goodbye that morning, in case you got him sick. He didn't want to leave you alone at first, but you insisted that it's probably just hay fever. And you're not alone, you've got your three little gremlins with you to keep you company.

You know that the city needed Spider-Punk more than you needed your boyfriend. That's why Hobie's so adamant in taking care of you now that his patrol is over, and all seems to be quiet around the city. All his attention is now on you, and making you better.

Hobie finally reaches your flat, he perches himself on your fire escape, peeking through your dimly lit bedroom, he sees your folded form buried under a mountain of blankets. Your air purifier puffs out clouds directly at your contorted face. He hates seeing you like this, he should've taken a break in his patrol, if it weren't for this week's villain, he would've had the time to check up on you.

He feels bad leaving you alone in this state.

Hobie opens your window, a gust of much needed fresh air enters your room, an orange glow hits your face directly.

You groan in your bed when the late afternoon sun shines directly at your sensitive eyes; shielding yourself from the light, you turn around lifting the heavy blankets over your head.

Hobie lifts his mask over his head "Hey, I bought you chicken soup" he softly says in case your ears are also sensitive.

" 'm not hungry" your voice muffled by the blankets over your face.

Hobie looks at the discarded bottle of medicine, empty packets of paracetamol, and a moist rag next to your bed. But no dirty plates or glass near you, you haven't eaten anything since he left.

Hobie sits down next to you, before he settles down, he hears a hiss on top of your body.

Crowley opens his bright emerald eyes, the only thing that Hobie sees of the cat; with the dark blankets and dimly lit room, Crowley's fur perfectly camouflages on top of you. The little dark void stands up as if he's challenging Hobie.

"Oi, we're on the same side, I'm gonna take care of her" Hobie scolds the hell spawn.

Your arm reaches out of the mountain of blankets to pet Crowley, calming him down.

Hobie grabs the end of the blanket, pulling it down to see your face. He touches your forehead lightly to feel your temperature. You're hot, dangerously so, even with his glove he still feels the warmth.

"Fuck lovey, you're burning up" Hobie's voice echoes with concern.

"Hmm?" You look at him with your half lidded eyes. "Hey baby, when'd you get here?" You're delirious, you feel like your mouth's full of cotton, hot air comes out of your nose.

"Shit, we need to lower your temperature" he leaves the soup on top of your side table, tissues and bottles fall on the floor to make room for the warm soup.

He leaves briefly to go to your bathroom, filling up your bathtub with cold water. Crowley makes biscuits on your blanket covered chest.

Hobie comes back, seeing the scene in front of him he stops for a moment to take a mental picture of it. He rushes to you flipping your blankets away from you, Hobie sees in his peripheral that Crowley moved away before getting smacked in the face. That's definitely gonna bite him back, literally and figuratively. He'll apologize to him later, right now he needs to get you to your bathtub ASAP.

When the blankets are pulled away from you, a chill runs through you, a second later heat rushes throughout your body. You feel hot and cold at the same time. The fever clouds your mind; you mumble in Hobie's chest as he carries you.

Hobie carefully sits you down on the edge of the tub, he crouches down next to you with a wet rug in his hand. You can hear the loud rush of water behind you.

"Hnng" You cover your sensitive ears, Hobie sees your reaction, he quickly shuts off the tap, concern on his face.

He carefully holds your chin up so you're facing him. "This is gonna be cold, I'm sorry" he dabs the cloth on your forehead, testing your reaction.

You instinctively flinch away from the cold, "oww" Your joints cry out in pain, every muscle in your body protests against the cold rag. But you don't flinch away when he lays the cold rag against your collarbone.

"That's it, lovey, taking it like a champ"

Hobie opens a couple of buttons on your pajama shirt so he could wipe your chest. He hears a mewl from behind him, Crowley sits elegantly on your countertop, eyes judging Hobie.

Hobie looks over his shoulder, "yeah, yeah I'm being careful" He talks to your cat like he understands his meows.

Crowley answers with a louder meow "Yes, I will wipe behind her bloody ears, d' you think you could do any better?" Hobie raises the rag towards Crowley.

Crowley scrunches his nose at the rag, "I didn't think so" Hobie squares off with your cat, Hobie continues to carefully wipe your arms as Crowley stares daggers at his back.

You stare at Hobie curiously, in your state you have no idea if you're just imagining your boyfriend having an argument with your cat.

You hold on to Hobie's strong shoulder, getting his attention. "Are you fighting with Crowley?" You tilt your head questioningly.

Hobie smiles that you're finally aware of your surroundings, "There's my girl," he pecks your sweaty forehead. "He's being a little shit, that's why"

Your eyes widen "you can understand him?! Is that part of your spidey powers?" You shake his shoulder weakly.

"Love," He pinches the bridge of his nose "I don't even know how to answer that" he squeezes out the excess water from the rag to trickle down on your head.

"Ack! Hobie!" You glare daggers at him, mimicking what Crowley might look like behind him.

"Just a little bit of water," he wipes little droplets off your eye lids with his thumb. "How do you feel? Better, yeah?"

You drop your head on his shoulder with a thud, "tired" you sigh, snuggling further into the crook of his neck.

Hobie hugs you, he kisses the side of your head affectionately, rubbing your back he feels your fever sweat through your thin pajama shirt.

You cringe when you feel him tugging up at your drenched shirt, "I'm sorry, I'm such a mess" your voice vibrates against Hobie's skin.

"Don't be, this is nothing compared to what I've seen 'round pubs" he cradles your head, moving stray hairs away from your tacky skin. "I need to change you out of those clothes, yeah?"

"If you wanted to rip my clothes off, you should have said so" you teasingly said with your hoarse voice.

Hobie chuckles at your sense of humor, despite your sickness. "When you're better, I'll do just that"

Lifting your head away from his shoulder, you stare at him lovingly "I better get… better then" fumbling over your words. You give him your sickenly sweet smile.

After a change of clothes, a much needed toothbrush and change of linens; Hobie guides you back to bed, with Crowley following closely behind.

"Good, the soup's still hot"

Recognizing the packaging of the soup, you instantly perk up "Is that from Tom's deli?"

"Yeah, you should have seen old Tom's face when I came in as Spider-Punk" he sits down next to you as you prop yourself up to a sitting position.

"Did he look giddy?" You make grabbing hands towards the tupperware. You feel a little bit better, still feverish though.

"Giddy as a school girl, he even asked for a bloody selfie" Hobie opens the lid, the familiar savory smell wafts through your room, relaxing your muscles.

You giggle at the mental image, "did he get it? The picture with you?"

"Yeah, in exchange he didn't let me pay for it, even though I was shoving him money"

You imagine the entire interaction between the two, both being stubborn as they are, you would pay money to see it.

Hobie takes a spoonful of the soup, blowing on it carefully before he feeds it to you. You don't protest, even though you feel good enough to feed yourself. Hobie's being so sweet and sensitive you let it slide this time.

You haven't seen this side of him before, sure he's always sweet on you, but this? He's been so attentive to your needs and your pain, you can't help but love him even more. You never heard a single complaint or scolding for making him take care of you, just for that you're already thankful for. You feel his love shine through with every caress, and concerned look.

As you swallow the soup, you can't help when a sob breaks through, fat tears slide down your cheeks.

"Shit, was it still hot?" Crowley loudly meows at Hobie, as if to say: what did you do now? Hobie ignores the cat. "Love, are you okay? Where are you hurting?"

You shake your head, "nothing hurts, it's silly, I'm sorry" you wipe your tears with your sleeves as you avoid eye contact.

Hobie puts down the bowl on the nightstand to carefully cup your tear stained cheeks. "Hey, it's not silly, please tell me. Y'know you can tell me anything" his heart hurts with every tear you let out, "if you're not ready to tell me it's okay, just know I'm here, yeah?"

You finally look at him with a brave face, you exhale and finally let it go "I love you" you feel heat behind your eyes, the fever's crawling up again. "So much Hobie Brown, and it's not the fever talking. It's okay if you don't say it back, just wanted you to know"

Saying it loudly for the first time turns your arms and legs into jelly, the three words send shivers down your spine. And yet you stare at him directly, waiting for his reaction.

He feels slightly offended at your last comment, how dare you think he doesn't love you enough to not say it back to you. "You're a bloody idiot"

Your face falls, before you could think of the worst, he kisses you suddenly, it's messy and fast, your teeth clashing with his, you feel his lip ring against your lips. Pulling away first, breathlessness clings to you, if it wasn't for the flu affecting your lungs you would've lasted longer.

Hobie holds your face tenderly "Fuck you for ever thinking that I won't say it back," He swipes at the beads of sweat on your forehead, "Because I've said it a hundred times in my head. I love you" he kisses your tacky cheeks, "I love you," he pecks your nose, you chuckle at his kisses. "I love you," he kisses the corner of your eye "I love you, so fucking much" he confesses.

You let out a sigh of relief, holding the back of his neck as you guide him towards your shoulder, hugging him tightly you feel the roughness of his suit. He sighs into your hug, he feels a heavy weight lifted off his shoulders. You wish you could hold him in your arms forever, protected and loved.

The other two cats trudge in your room nonchalantly. Hobie feels eyes on his back, he cranes his neck to look at Crowley.

Crowley stares at Hobie, he moves his tail from side to side before he curls against himself. While Crumpet and Teacup jump over to your nightstand to smell your soup.

"He's warming up to you" you sniff while caressing his cheek.

"He watched over you, while I was gone. Can't say the same thing to those two though" Hobie moves his head towards the couple sniffing at your food. "Oi bloody leeches, couldn't even bother watching over your sick mum, huh"

Teacup jumps at Hobie's raised voice, while Crumpet's paw wipes at her face. Hobie translates that action to being ashamed from his scolding.

"Yeah, you better be ashamed" Hobie glares at the two cats.

"Stop picking fights with them" you giggle.

He reluctantly pulls away from your warmth, "they deserve a scolding" Hobie grabs the bowl again "now let's get you up and running again, yeah?"

You nod, grinning ear to ear.

—

A few weeks later, with Hobie's help you're finally strong enough to go jogging again. After your run, you head towards Tom's deli to grab your usual. To your surprise, you see Spider-Punk and Tom's picture above the stove, Hobie holding your soup in his hand while his free arm hangs over Tom's shoulders,Tom widely smiles making a peace sign. Tom sees you staring at the picture, he skips over to you, telling the story behind the picture while he shows it off, pride coating his voice. Your smile gets bigger with every wild gesture he makes.

A/n: hope you liked it! And yes Crowley is named after Neil Gaiman's Crowley. As always likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️❤️❤️

*picture above is from pinterest*

#hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk #atsv fanfiction #spider man across the spider verse #x reader #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #atsv x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #the kr8tor's creations #established relationship #fanfic #spiderman across the spiderverse

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keepingsecretstokeepyoutk · 6 days

Text

This imagery immediately made me think of Emily Dickenson’s poem “Tell all the truth but tell it slant”

I’ve always associated this poem with Taylor and her truth, so it was fun to see a possible reference to it.

Now if the poem isn’t clear enough, look at this explanation of its meaning:

As others have already pointed out, the room is also partially upside down like the orange room in the Lover house, which we have suspected represents bearding/stunting. The room having some of its furniture on the ceiling (fully upside down) and some of its furniture simply slanted, might represent her inching her way out of the closet or getting closer to daylight.

Dickinson even envision’s the truth as a light “the truth must dazzle gradually/or every man be blind” - similar to Taylor’s truth being represented by daylight and leaving the dark.

It feels fitting that a Dickinson poem would be directly referenced since the time period of the aesthetic lines up with the poets life. There was even an episode in Dickinson (Apple TV) about women being sent to a psych ward for hysteria. In the very next scene she’s in an 1800s style dress, writing.

The poem also uses the word “infirm”, here meaning weak (that people are too weak to absorb a whole truth), but is the root word for “infirmary”, another word for hospital (or a place caring for those who are ill), where this music video takes place.

“Success in Circuit lies” means you must skirt the truth, tell it at a certain angle, which reminds me of the epic song, High Infidelity, where she imagines her fans finding out her truth and hating her for “lying” to them for years, she sings “I was dancing around, dancing around it”.

I was literally just thinking about this poem yesterday, I’m so tickled that she might have referenced it.

Not to mention fortnight is a word used more often in that time period…

#emily dickinson #kaylor #bearding #closeting #ttpd #fortnight

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sanctus-ingenium · 9 months

Note

hi im so sorry if youve already answered this but how do u go about selecting the colors you use for your works!

hi! i've had this question a few times and every time i've only been able to answer with a vague sort of 'ehhh i just pick them'. but i think i'll actually talk some more about it now since a lot of my art actually takes a lot of beating before i decide on a final palette. but with a lot of them admittedly i already know what palette i'm using, and i organise the whole composition around those colours.

i use like two main palette methods and here they are (once you see it in my art, you won't unsee it). It mainly involves picking one main hue, and then a contrasting secondary colour.

So the most basic is to have a drawing be mostly a small range of hues, in this case the reds and oranges, and adding a single contrasting shade. Here it is the bounce light on the metallic metal parts, and doesn't appear anywhere else. It looks blue but it isn't - if I used actual blue, it would be too jarring and the colours would not appear unified. This is a warm and nice scene. So instead I pick that strong blue and blend it into a small swatch of the base colour. Then I pick from the blended portion, and what I get will be more blue than the base, but not actually blue. In fact it is yellow-orange :) The entire drawing looks warm as a result.

When working with marginally stronger contrast, here I have a cream unicorn on a green background. The main shadows on the unicorn will be the colour of that ambient room temperature bg - green. So I use the same test swatch method to pick a shadow colour which LOOKS green without being too disruptive of the cream unicorn. I increase the saturation and darken the value (moving the colour dot diagonally to the lower right hand corner of the box) and also spin the whole wheel towards green just a bit. Then I blend into the cream and colour pick a shade in the middle. But for the bounce light, I chose to use a common contrast of green - pink. It looks like pink in the drawing but in fact it is a low saturation orange! Using that real pink would be disharmonious. I do the exact same thing - I blend the pink into the bg colour and come up with that orange shade. It looks harmonious.

Now (top example) I am using two contrasting hues side by side. I decide the shadows will be warm, and the highlights in that contrasting zone. That means that for every colour i pick - Islin's skin, hair, his glasses, his shirt collar, his coat - every colour gets slid around the colour wheel until it falls inside that narrow band. And when I am highlighting his skin, I turn the wheel towards green. When I am shading his skin, I turn the wheel more red. I do this for every single element in the drawing.

It's the same for the Rua cover but this time I am not using such a wide band of available hues on the colour wheel, it's much tighter. I did this to replicate the look of a faded print, intentionally lowering the available contrast I had to work with by removing black as tool. It's all in that small cream to red window but it LOOKS purple - it looks like Pascal wears a purple shirt and that the smoke in the bg is lilac. Well, it isn't. That's all red and orange. I pick those colours by, again, choosing my goal "look" - a low-saturation purple, and then turning the wheel into the red range.

Okay so! for this it's just... the exact same thing again. Literally it always is. But since this one is recent I still have the process fresh in my mind. I envisioned it in the car, and I wanted this empty sort of desolate blue bg and a cold, distant overall tone. I ended up making the white on the chessboard & white pieces warmer, cream instead of white-grey, which worked out great. I wanted the blue, I wanted the pale cream/white, and the black of the chessboard. I didn't envision a colour for Pascal's shirt. but when the time came it was an obvious choice. It has to contrast with the bg both in value and hue, without falling outside the cream range already established by the chess pieces. So it's shiny salmon pink :) or orange, whatever you think it is. The only disharmonious part of this palette is the red velvet under the black knight piece - it works, but if I'd taken more care I might have spun the wheel more into orange and it would stand out less. But I don't mind.

#info asks #sorry my handwriting. not good

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stagefoureddiediaz · 1 month

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Costume Meta 7x01

Aaaaaaannnnd we're back!!

OMG I cannot tell you how good it feels to be back writing costume meta - I have missed it so very much and this first episode has given me lots and lots to talk about so lets crack on with it shall we!

Where to start?! Firstly - Its amazing to have Alayna Bell-Price back in the driving seat and she is a genius because she knows the characters better than anyone and I have to say from my perspective there is a pretty clear difference between this episodes costumes and the ones from season 6 - not that s6's costumes were bad, just that you could see the shift of having a designer who didn't know the characters to the same level. I’m going to go in order of character appearance in a non uniform capacity for this one I think so we’re going to jump around from character to character a bit. There is no Maddie or Hen this week, as we don't see them out of uniform, but every one else is accounted for and I've included Norman and Lola as they've got a multi episode arc and their costumes are interesting and playing into a colour theme!

putting it below the cut as its a long post and I on't want to overtake everyones dashes! Enjoy!

We start off with Athena in this pale pink high neck ribbed sweater with large bell sleeves. I've spoken a fair amount about pale pink over the last couple of seasons of costume metas and how, in clothes its representative of childish and immature behaviours or thoughts. That holds true here - the pale pink is playing into Athena's childhood - when she developed her fear of cruise ships - its creating a connection between her childhood experiences and the woman sitting in Franks office.

We get a flashback that shows her in yellow and orange - the yellow for communication and the orange for transformation. A literal moment where we see Athena transform from the innocence of youth to her developing anxiety and fear around cruise ships. Its really clever visual storytelling connecting adult with child and shows us her fear is genuine and founded in something that she may not have been able to articualte fully as a child, but she can as an adult, even if she doesn't actually articulate it to Bobby.

Our next non uniform costume is Chimney. The lighting is really low in this scene, so it's kind of hard to be 100% sure of the colouring, but he seems to be wearing either a dark navy or black button up shirt under a dark green and black bomber jacket. The use of really dark green in combination with black, Back is a colour that can be about hiding ones vulnerabilities - concealment and masking, but it is also a colour associated with magic (generally dark magic) as well as pessimism. The green is growth and renewal, and the hope for a better future. to use them in combination i this way is playing on Chimneys insecurites and fears, his desire to keep the 'magic' alive in his relationship with Maddie, but it also speaks to his growth, that he goes home and talks to her about it (even if he does come up with an insane plan to 'date forever').

Eddie in the locker room - aside from being shirtless for much of it and pulling some epically good faces - was a super interesting costume choice. Especially the use of his watch! first though - Denim shirt time! We don't actually see Eddie in a denim shirt all that often and we've seen him in the super washed out one far more than dark denim shirts. I've been laughing a little bit at a few people (on twitter mostly) claiming its the same shirt he was wearing at the hospital during and after Bucks coma and it being a play on bringing Buck back to life. While I like the theory, its actually a very different shirt - the one in the hospital was black with a grey wash out and was made of velveteen - so different colour and fabric.

This shirt, is however one we have actually seen Eddie wear before and its far more telling than if it were the hospital shirt. You need to bear in mind that this scene is about Buck and Eddies respective girlfriends (or lack there of) and the fact that Christopher has a girlfriend now as well. This shirt is the same shirt Edie was wearing when he (re)introduced Ana to Chris in 4x08 (breaking point my beloved! the gift that keeps on giving!) and this puts a conversation about Marisol and things going well with her into the same category as Ana - suggesting she is ultimately destined for the same fate as Ana. the other thing that plays into this narrative is the use of the watch.

Eddie does not put the Christopher watch on until after he has found out that Buck has broken up with Natalia - so during the entire conversation about their respective girlfriends, he is only holding the Christopher watch, rather than wearing it.

In the picture below from 4x08 you can see that Eddie is wearing his black 'work' watch rather than the brown strapped 'Christopher' watch. Remember that the first time we see the Christopher watch is when he goes for his first date with Ana in Jinx, so he already has this watch and in theory should be wearing it in this scene. The fact he isn't is pretty telling and I'll go into that a bit more later when we get to Chris's (and Eddies) date scene.

Then we have Buck in his outfit of many colours! The white trainers, continue to play into my theory of Buck wearing them when he is in key points on his journey to discover his self - her it is about showing his growth - that he ended the relationship with Natalia - this is a massive thing when we saw how long it took for him to end things with Taylor - The man who clings is growing and getting out before it drags him down!

The jacket is similar in style to many of the ones we've seen him wearing in season 5 and 6, but this one is much brighter and more colourful. I know I go on about white meaning bad things for Buck, but that isn't relevant here - the white bad things happen to Buck theory is much more about t-shirts, jumpers and shirts rather than jackets - its an under-layer rather than a top layer that = danger. So i'm not thinking of its relevance here for this scene. What I am going to say is that this (according to my spreadsheet!) is the first time we've seen Buck in a white jacket of any description. To me, it's playing into the idea of purity and rebirth which is what white is often associated with. This plays into the comment Eddie makes welcoming Buck back to 'the land of the living' but also implies that Buck is starting a new chapter and making a fresh start - the check patterning suggests it might not all be plain sailing though.

The check pattern is an interesting one, obviously check pattern theory comes into play here, but whether its only in relation to the reveal that he split with Natalia, or if its also foreshadowing Buck getting himself into danger/trouble down the line, remains to be seen.

I'm going to quote myself again because I did predict that this scene may be about his relationship with Natalia when we got the stills dropped - the costume department never let us down!

The only thing I can do is scream into the void about check theory because check does't bode well for people - they always end up in the middle of the drama (see my check theory posts linked on my pinned post for more) and while they come out the other side (99% of the time) Buck in check for that scene in 6x18 pretty much doomed his relationship with Natalia (its specific to her and not C&K's baby as Buck wasn't wearing it when he delivered it!) and as that shirt in the still is very un Buck like, has not only yellow ochre in it, but also its a white base (and we all know buck in white is a bad sign!!) and its check patterned - my theory is that this scene is connected to Natalia in some way - either Buck is not being true to him self in more than one way - that things are going to/have come to a head for their relationship (my kingdom for a reverse of Buck to Eddie about Ana in 5x03!!!) and lead to a pretty big change in some way (fingers crossed for Buck to end it and then finally break down and deal with his trauma!!!) Some other things about that shirt - the colour combination - the green blue and yellow ochre are giving me call backs to coma Buck (another reason I think it might be connected to Bucks unresolved trauma around his death and Eddies absense in his dream)

In the quote above, I was also referring to the blue and white check pattern shirt he was wearing when he and Natalia got together, but there was also the fact that in the balcony scene at the end of 6x18, we also saw her in one of Bucks white shirts. I wrote in my 6x18 meta about how those two things combined didn't bode well for that relationship going forward, and thats what leaves me unsure about the check pattern on this white jacket being purely about something that has already happened. If I put my Buddie goggles on, I would perhaps suggest that the troubled times ahead may be more connected to Buck and Eddies relationship, and this would fit in with a couple of the things Oliver and Ryan have said. The thing with check theory though, is that generally speaking if it's on one of the mains, they come out the other side of the dram/trauma stronger than before. So if it is connected to Buck and Eddies relationship, then we can expect it to be in an even stronger position on the other side of whatever goes down (and at this point you can't strengthen their relationship any further and keep them as just friends imo!)

Chimneys forever dating proposal to Maddie, connects with his outfit when he's talking to Hen - it's the same jeans and black shirt, so the meanings of black, can be continued on into this scene - the idea of magic and hiding his vulnerabilities. The addition of the jacket with this brickwork pattern in its weave is a fun choice, it's playing into the idea of building something, but also plays into the idea that Chimney has his walls up - again fitting in with the black meaning of hiding his vulnerabilities - because instead of expressing his fears to Maddie ad then them talking it thorough, he comes up with his insane forever dating concept. the fact that much of this scene is a contrasting parallel with the scene from season 1 when he is pretending to be someone else entirely for Tatiana all ties in perfectly with this costume. The fact that he reverts to wearing blue (ran out of picture spaces so I couldn't include one) later on - when he's realised his plan isn't realistic, talks to Maddie and they end up back on the same page is really good to see - the blue being a signature Chimney colour and is indicative of him being true to himself.

Bobbys blue suit and blue check patterned shirt. The brightness of the blue is a really important choice - it's the only time we see him this brightly coloured on the cruise until he ends up in the bright red at the end. This is important because this is the moment when he's still all excited and hopeful for his honeymoon cruise - everything is good in Bobby's world at this moment in time - the check pattern is telling us that it's not going to stay that way for long. From her on out we see the colours of Bobby's costumes slowly beginning to dull and take on a washed out tone, but here in this moment all is good.

Athena's bright yellow dress is all about making her stand out - communicating with the audience, she is the brightest person in the room (in more ways than one!!). The thing with yellow, apart from the communication aspect, is that it can also be a symbol of anxiety and fear, so this dress plays rather nicely into the theme of Athenas fear of being on that ship.

The colour does have other good traits too - its fresh and bright and is a colour of happiness in its more jewel like tones and I think we can see all of these meanings in these scenes - Athena might be anxious about being on the ship, but she is also happy and enjoying herself with Bobby in that moment.

Lola and Norman. Lola is the one we need to focus on in her very bright very check patterned Victoria Beckham dress. Obviously the check pattern plays into check pattern theory, but the red also acts like a neon sign to the audience - highlighting that Lola is in danger - the ga won't pick up on check theory, although they might connect the dots about the fact this check patterning looks very like a cage - foreshadowing her being held captive later on, but also as a nod to the fact she was incarcerated previously.

The red is also a nod towards romance and love - playing into the rekindling of their relationship and romance in the aftermath of the freeway 'see me Norman' incident.

Ok so Christophers date night and by extension Eddies date night! This is where this meta is goingto get a bit messy and I'm goingto jump around a bit becasue I need to talk about the way colour theory is at play in all the scenes in Christophers bedroom, so we're going to talk about Christophers bedroom as one big thing rather than the two separate scenes that it actually is. They are extensions of one another and build on so much of the groundwork we've already seen in previous seasons.

Chris in plaid check yellow and red check plays perfectly into check pattern theory - it’s a signifier that something is about to go down with him - namely that the fact he’s dating multiple girls at the same time.

He’s also wearing a white shirt which is not a colour we see on him all that often - in fact, the only times we’ve seen him in a completely white shirt is with his suit in 5x01 when suit shopping and again in 6x08 for his school dance. He did wear a white vest when dressed as wolverine for halloween So as you can see its not a common colour for him, but the times have seen him wear it as a solid colour have been connected to school/girls and dating (i’m including the suit shopping in this because Ana was there and it was kind of a Eddie and Ana date of sorts - in that it was suppose to be for this Christening - meet the family - date type thing).

The most interesting thing is the plaid hooded shirt though. It was such an interesting choice to go with for a couple of reasons. the colour way is especially loud - we tend to see Chris wearing greens and blues and greys, with the odd other colour thrown in occasionally. So red and yellow are not common colours for him to be wearing.

On the red front we see him in it a couple of times - the adapted skateboarding scene and the scene in 4x10 when he joins Eddie and Ana on the sofa - getting in the way of their date night. We do also see him wear red in Christmas related episodes (so I don’t tend to count them in the same way as the Christmas colour theming will nearly always override any other colour theming intention - the use of stripes or check or other patterning is more important in those episodes!).

On the yellow front things are even more clear cut - the Tsunami arc, the aftermath of him falling off the skateboard, Mays graduation party and 5x03’s Eddie Ana break up! These (apart from the tsunami shirt) were all bright almost neon yellow.

This new plaid shirt is more into the yellow ochre part of the yellow spectrum, therefore tying much more to the tsunami arc, which is actually really fitting if you think about it in a little more detail - its a connection, not only to Buck, but also to loss and grief. Eddie might have been using his secret weapon (Chris) to get Buck out of his moping (read mourning) over not being able to go back to work, but Christopher is also still grieving the loss of his mother at that point as well, so its not just about cheering Buck up, its also about giving Chris a chance to do something fun and distract him from his own grief. That is why the use of yellow then ties in so nicely with its use on Chris now.

The other thing that really grabbed my attention about this shirt though is the fact that the two times we’ve seen Buck have a conversation with Chris in his bedroom, he has sat in the same spot and has been wearing one of those two colours - post shooting in maroon and this episode in the yellow ochre - if you watch those two scenes side by side, you see that they’ve used almost identical camera angles as well to film Buck.

I've spoken a lot about the use of maroon as a colour connected to parenthood - especially fatherhood , which is how its intended to be read on Buck - connecting to Eddie and his being shot, pushing Buck into a parental role in Eddies absence.

That alone is a pretty loud reference to Christophers connection and relationship to Buck, but then we have the yellow ochre of it all.

I feel a little bit insane about how close my prediction was on what the Buck Christopher scene was going to be about - this is from the meta I wrote when t he stills dropped;

Whatever this scene transpires being about, based on what we've seen with Buck wearing yellow ochre, we can assume its going to continue to play into this idea of Buck not being fully truthful with people and fitting into the role he thinks people want him to pay rather than being true to himself. I do want to add to this theory by looking at Christophers shirt as well. The grey/ yellow combination is a bit reminiscent of Breaking point (the episode that really is the gift that keeps on giving) because we get Chris in grey and Eddie in tan - that is yellowish toned whilst not actually being yellow There isn't a good screenshot of them together, but the placing of Chris and Buck in the new one has echoes of Eddie and Chris in that scene (one that is interestingly enough playing into the idea of changing family dynamics, but also the moment before and the one that happens afterwards at Bucks loft, directly placing Buck into a parental role (as an aside the idea of Buck being a miracle worker plays into the theme of Eddie looking for magic, just saying!))

Indirectly this scene was about Buck not being true to himself with people and fitting into whatever role he thinks people want him to fit into, only this wasn't an active situation - this was a scene where Buck could draw on his experience of having done that in the past to help Christopher - the line from Eddie 'you didn't end up being like you' is such a call to this and actually shows how valuable Bucks own experiences and learnings are in helping Chris (we've all been joking about Eddie choosing Buck to help him with this Chris's issue, but in actual fact he was the perfect person for the job - not just because of his being a 'reformed player', but also because of his relationship with death and the death of a loved one where you are reliant on others for their memories of a person rather than having your own)

The thing with the Yellow ochre (this meta here that i've already quoted from above is the place to go if you'd like more detail on its use on Buck more widely) isn't just its about it's connection to Buck, his place in Christopher's life and more loosely to the will of it all, (the fact that Buck and Eddie are both wearing the same colour ways as in the hospital bed will reveal scene and are both on the same sides of the screen in both scenes is a stroke of genius and is meant to connect these two scenes together) its also its connection to Shannon.

The first time we meet Shannon, she sits on Christophers bed in more or less the same position as we see Buck and Eddie sit, and looks at where Christopher has been positioned in all these conversations, and she is wearing a burnt orange top thats pretty close to the dark yellow ochre we see Buck wearing. Shannon wears a lot of yellow - as in it there are only a couple of times we don't see her wearing something yellow or with yellow in it and those are key scenes (which I will talk about later on).

Shannons appearance in Christophers room to read the letter she wrote him had her in this black top with a floral patterning on it. She was also wearing green trousers (which can be seen in the still below but aren't actually seen during the scene.

I actually really loved the green trousers and black top as a choice because the top is very Shannon - it sits perfectly with the floral patterns we saw her wearing when she was still alive. The green trousers are a bit of a departure for her, but I think its very intentional for two reasons .

The first is that they are very much in the Eddie trousers wheelhouse, especially in combination with black - he wears green khaki trousers a lot. The inference being that the black and green combination is an echo of Eddie.

The second ties to Christopher. Green is also a colour we've seen on Christopher a lot, it's probably the colour we see him in most. It's being used as a reflection of the fact he is growing and transitioning from child to teenager. But having it here in this scene - on Shannon connects a Christopher growing up without his mom.

Both of these combined really connect into Shannon in this scene, tying the three of them together and on Eddies efforts to keep her alive for Christopher - the underlying implication that his growth into who he is so far is as much to do with Shannon as it is to do with Eddie.

Her necklaces were not identical to the ones we saw her in in season 2, but that's most likely because they don't have them any longer, so they've replicated them as best as they can. The other little nod that I enjoyed is the brown bracelets on her right wrist - the same place Eddie wears his brown strapped Christopher watch!

But the top they have her in plays into a couple of other things - the prominent yellow flowers make an obvious connection to Buck from the previous scene, but they also tie into the 'I want a divorce' scene from 2x17 where she is wearing a dark blue dress with bright yellow ochre flowers all over it. the dress is not especially close to the top in the wider sense - blue dress with white squares v black top with florals in a variety of colours, but the yellow flowers are the prominent aspect of both items of clothing and play into the yellow theme connected to Shannon and then to Buck.

This is espeically relevant when you remember that Eddie is in a black suit in that scene and he's wearing black when he gives the letter to Christopher.

The black for this sequence of scenes is such a poignant choice - its Eddie mourning all over again, not for his loss, but for Christophers loss. I did find it telling that again in this scene, we have the absence of the Christopher watch. Eddie has very rarely not been wearing a watch in his scenes, so the times when we don't see him wearing one are very telling.

For me, in this sequence of scenes, it's about the fact that they are not about Eddies relationship with Christopher, but about Shannons relationship with Christopher. The watch is much more about Eddie and Christopher, so to have it absent from this story arc makes total sense and is symbolic of Eddie being a good father

Then we have Christophers grey shirt - I said when we first got the stills from that scene, how it was likely to be connected to complex family relationships - a la when we’ve seen Buck wearing his grey shirt. And what do you know - the scene was about complex family dynamics/ relationships.

It wasn’t perhaps in the manner I was expecting, but that series of scenes played with the full scope of Chris’s complex family relationships - from the relationship he has with Buck -not only as Christophers friend, but also as more or less Eddies co-parent (the way Eddie asked for Bucks help screamed co-parent rather than friend imo - that whole burnt out car scene was two co-parents discussing their child!) to the relationship he has with his dad - which is a pretty great relationship, but it is a complex one.

The relationship he has with his mom - or the fact he feels he doesn’t have a relationship with her despite Eddies best efforts, because as he grows up she feels further and further away.

Eddies 'date' night with Marisol. Again I ran out of pictures (30 is not enough!) so you're going to have to use your imagination or go back and rewatch the scene for yourselves, but trust me when I say that Eddie is wearing the same shirt he was wearing for this date night as he was in 4x10 - when Christopher interrupts because he can't sleep!

It's also a similar tee to the one Eddie wears when he has his breakdown and trashes his room (that one was more green when this one is much browner). Its slouchy and has cut and stretched raw edges at the sleeves and on the pocket - in the same way his breakdown shirt did. there is an element of being in familiar surroundings and being comfortable at home, but stretched out raw edges and Eddie generally tend to mean not so great things.

Of course there is the element of his parenting skills being tested by Christophers having more than one girlfriend, but if that where the only reason, then it would've made more sense to have him in that shirt when he's listening in to Chris talking to Buck, rather than when he's on a date with a new girlfriend.

This is especially true as the screen time for that tee has more connection with Marisol than it does with Chris. Combined with the fact that once again, like in the locker room scene, he is not wearing his Christopher watch in this scene and that speaks volumes.

If we are to read the scene as being about Christopher soley, he should be wearing his watch because that watch is a physical embodiment of the importance of Christopher in Eddies life - that he puts Christopher first in all things.

Got to say I was a bit shocked to see Marisol in his bright magenta silk spaghetti strap top when you consider the costumes we saw her in last season - mostly dressed down, t-shirts, jumpers and dungarees so this is a complete 180 for her character.

There are a few interesting things connected to her outfit, firstly it low key ties into Natalia - we saw Natalia in a red version of this top for her first proper onscreen date with Buck (when they go to the badge and ladder joint) so there is an interesting low key parallel to draw there. There is also the fact that her bracelet is a chain one - much like we've seen on all of Buck and Eddies previous girlfriends - although those have been necklaces, so I'm undecided if this chain bracelet is paying into the same trope as those.

Then there is the pink of it all.

You see Eddie and Pink on his girlfriends doesn't bode well for Marisol.

Both Shannon and Ana wore pink. Ana wore it a lot - there are two examples below, but generally speaking its her most commonly worn colour - including on her first date with Eddie in Jinx.

The first example below is from the first time we see her in the Diaz house. the shades are different, but the fact that the first time we see both characters in the Diaz house they're both wearing pink, speaks volumes.

The other key use of Pink is when Shannon is at the beach with Eddie and Christopher and she tells Eddie she's pregnant - Eddie takes it as the sign he has been looking for - the chance to effectively start over with their marriage, but this is the beginning of the end for their relationship, even if she hadn't died a short while later. She is wearing pale pink in that scene and it's the only time we see her wear the colour in the show.

The fact we can also contrast the use of pink with when Buck wears it is telling in its own right - we see the relationship between Buck and Eddie strengthening when Buck wears pink - May's graduation party, the tsunami, the Hildy coffee machine - all moments (big and small) that show the development of various aspects of their relationship and its ability to endure.

Essentially all this use of pink on the women he has had previous relationships with, doesn't bode well for Marisol and the longevity of her relationship with Eddie. How quickly it will end I can't say, just that it will end.

I spoke earlier in this post about colour theming for the episode and this is where I talk about it!

Pink - and in particular the very bright pinks we saw scattered across the episode. Marisol above wearing it, isn't just about connecting her to Ana in costume terms (especially as at this point that costume is a departure of her costumes from s6) it also connects her to the other characters we see wearing bright pink in this episode - Lola and Norman.

At this point in time I'm not sure if we're going to see it play out as a theme across the season, but its use in this episode was very loud on characters that are going to be around for more than 1 episode. It suggests that there is some underlying theme that connects them (by this I don't mean that they're gonna meet and hang out I mean that personality traits are going to be similar)

Magenta and bright pink in colour theory means a few different things, and like with all colours, has positive and negative traits. Generally speaking its a loud and brash colour thats designed to stand out and draw attention to it's wearer.

Things that are considered positive traits for this shade of pink are; intensity, acceptance, kindness and it's supportive and uplifting nature. It's connected to naive love (as in lust rather than the passionate and enduring love of red) can also be considered a nurturing colour.

Negative traits are; intensity, volatility, arrogant and impatient, irritability and irritating and frustration. it is also said to be a stress inducing colour and is said to be overly emotional.

Theres a clear and fairly loud connection between Lola and Norman getting into danger - Lola is in magenta trousers when she is kidnaped. Norman also has bright magenta flowers on his shirt at this point as well. My guess at this point is that we're supposed to lean into the stress inducing element, and also the irritating nature of the colour (On Athenas part at the very least!) and we'll see if those are the themes that play out for Marisol as well down the line.

Norman is in bright pink when he's lying and claiming she's unwell from being outside or too long. We also see that he is wearing pink in the ditsy print shirt later on (again I ran out of picture spaces!)

Athena's black top in this scene is much like the use of Chimney in black in his scenes. It's all about power and authority but it's also about her hiding her vulnerabilities. The other thing it does is creates a huge contrast with Bobby and all of the other passengers - she is the only one in black in the scene and it contrasts her with the underlying white of Bobbys shirt - juxtaposing them and visually putting them at odd with one another.

Like I said above about him becoming increasingly pale - here we see Bobby in a sea-foam green shirt - its the palest and washed out colour we've seen him in on this cruise (grey pyjama shirt not being included as its blink and you miss it and a pyjama tee!!!). Sea-foam green doesn't really play into the traditional meanings of green - there is still the element of renewal about it (the sea washes the sand etc)but its mostly a self-conscious and uncertain colour - both things that perfectly sum up how Bobby is feeling in this moment.

The other fun thing about this outfit is the palm tree shorts the patterns Bobby has worn in relation to this cruise, up to this point (and that includes the shirts from season 6) have all been tropical themed but on his shirts, the fact that they've now slipped down onto his shorts is a visual representation of him becoming increasingly dissatisfied with the way his honeymoon is going - that the tropical vacation vibes are slipping away.

Athenas red and white shirt, in my opinion is showing her cross purposes - its the duality of investigating and being on a cruise in a shirt. The bright red ties into the red and blue first responder colour way the show uses (for obvious reasons) while the white and the palm fronds, the lei flowers and the watery theming of the pattern fit into the troipical cruise they're on.

Bobbys red shirt contrasts with the lavender that we see on Athena - its not a colour we see on Bobby all that often and that makes its use all the more important. Especially considering the entire cruise thus far we've seen him in blues and greens - especially pale closer to pastel tones.

This red is bright snd bold and unlike his usual choices. Red is a colour of cross meaning - there is obviously the connection with love and the heart, which is absolutely at play her - his love for Athena is spurring him on and is part of what is pushing him in to investigator Bobby mode - and its representation of love is what is going to be the key player in the up coming episodes on the ship - when he is looking for Athena during the evacuation etc. But the other meaning of red is war, courage and anger and that is very much present here in this episode, and will (i'm assuming) be later on in 7x02 and 3.

The other thing I think its worth pointing out at this point (which is pure conjecture on my part at this moment in time but that I think will become relevant in the next two episodes rather than this one) is the foreshadowed parallel with Buck in season 5 when he broke down Eddies door. The bright red we saw him wearing then was an uncommon colour for him, in the same way it is for Bobby here. It's paralleling the way Buck was prepared to go into battle for Eddie, with the way Bobby is prepared to do so for Athena - going to war for your closest person, your loved one and doing what you need to do to save them.

Putting Athena in lavender the moment she gets to go into cop mode was a choice that had me giggling! Lavender is a colour of relaxation and order so for her to start wearing it the moment she gets to start being a cop again - speaks volumes for her state of being - it shows that her fear of being on the cruise ship and of being alone with bobby, has been overridden by her need to do her job and start investigating things. Its the perfect colour for this moment and for the impeding trouble brewing on the ship - Athena will bring order to things as order has been restored to her inner world.

Hopefully you've enjoyed this little canter through the costumes of 7x01 we're back in business and I can't wait to read your comments in the tags and comments 🥰

Tagging for those who've asked to be tagged - drop me a comment on this post if you'd like to be added to the list for the next meta 😎

@theladyyavilee @mistmarauder @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mandzuking17 @spotsandsocks @loveyou2thecore @wanderingwomanwondering @oneawkwardcookie @leothil @copyninjabuckley @nathleigh @shammers86 @crazyfangirlallert @missmagooglie @inandoutoffocus @katyobsesses @radiation-run @gayandbifiremenofmine @lemotmo @bi-moonlight @satvojihusana @crazyaboutotps @princesschez75 @mongreloer @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @sherlocking-out-loud

#911 abc #I hope you enjoy!#its good to be back #I can't remember my costume tags 😂#911 costume meta #season 7 #s7 costumes #7x01 #Kym costume meta #Kym colour theory #911 costumes #long post #the costume department never fails #still feeling feral about so much of the stuff I got right and the new stufff I've spotted

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year

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Can u do yandere Beel-obey me with a impulsive/lil crazy mc/reader? In a minute she is calm and in the other she tries to kill a random demon. May u can do him a lil masochist too? Pretty pleaseee 🙏

✿ 𝙨𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙯𝙮 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 ✿

characters: yandere!beel x fem!reader

warnings: generally darker undertones bc it’s a yandere, description of fighting, injuries, mentions of blood, yandere thoughts and acts, masochism, hinted that mc have signs of anger issues and bipolarity, some suggestive things

notes: ‘m so so so sorry for the late response hun. i just couldn’t rlly think of a good scenarios for this one😔 hope it’s to your liking!

everyone experiences bipolarity and anger issues differently. i am no mental health expert and i wrote this with my own anger issues experience and a friend's bipolarity. if some things seem wrong or unlikely then pls let me know.

since mc is literally living with demons, there definitely will be some darker/gruesome moments brushed off as a normal thing bc they’re demons

so with that in mind, being possessive, protective, a bit too overbearing or controlling is seen as a normal thing in a relationship for them

however beel is much more chill and softer when it comes to such things

it’s bc he has great GREAT amount of trust in you plus he knows no sane, lower demon would never dare and approach you

either bc of the pact markings of the 7 demon lords of devildom or

your impulsive self.

yep.

that’s the reason.

at first meeting and the first few days or weeks into mc’s stay in devildom, the brothers either find mc’s impulsiveness and anger issues relatable, amusing or just downright annoying

as for beel he didn’t really care. as long as you didn’t get yourself killed or gravely injured

if anything in the beginning it low-key reminded beel of his twin, belphie

mc’s dark humor, threatening back demons about how they will puck out their teeth, boil it into a soup and shove it down their throat while it’s still steaming hot were first annoying to most of the brothers

however to beel, it just reminded him of how his brother would always snap back at the other demons and more specifically, lucifer

perhaps that little resemblance is what led beel to be protective and possessive over mc

it started out slow and barely noticeable lingering hands over their shoulders, small worried glances, giving them ice package to put over their bruised knuckles

soon it developed into beel constantly hovering around mc, threatening to eat the other lesser demons who even dared to gaze at them to scenting

when scenting your partner in a demon relationship, it usually involves leaving visible marks on each other since demons all have different distinguishable markings

whether it be carving their marks into their s/o’s flesh with their claws, leaving a bloody bite mark or sometimes even their pact markings on each other

however, considering the fact beel is more gentler than the other demons and your a human, he simply decided that cuddling with you for so long to the point that others could smell beel’s sin and scent on you or just draping his large, fluffy orange jacket over you was enough

unfortunately, demons are beings that generally have a darker mindset than humans so one day some lesser, cocky demon mocked you for being “beel’s pet” while you were alone

mc paid that demon back with a broken nose and a broken arm that bent the wrong way (like this __^__🫴)

the terrified screeching of the onlookers and the anguish filled cries of the cocky bastard alongside the blood dripping from the claw marks the demon left on mc called upon the attention of the brothers

when arriving at the scene beel couldn’t help but feel an odd feeling within him

something hot, mushy and dizzying feeling pooling in his stomach, his mind getting hazy, eyes half lidded with the only focus of attention being on you

asmo sensed his brother’s sudden arousal and dragged him off from the crowd, sitting him down in one of the empty classrooms and having a talk with him. helping him calm down and explaining to his little brother that sometimes people get aroused by people who are stronger than them

since that little incident with mc and the cocky demon, beel has never went a day without his mind wandering to the scene he saw

you standing tall and proud with a bloody claw mark running from your chin to your neck with an odd triumphant grin while the lower insect screeched, holding his broken arm

and when he lets his daydreaming go wild, the sixth brother finds himself fantasizing about you sitting on him with the same grin, carving your initials on his chest

the scent of blood oozing around the room, the quiet giggles that would slip out of your lips as he groans and whimpers at the odd yet pleasant feeling

and when his imaginations go further than that, the avatar of sin of gluttony finds himself choking on his breath, pants tightening and the room feeling hotter than the usual

perhaps paying a visit to your room this night won’t be such a bad idea…

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flamingpudding · 9 months

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Camping Trips

A/N: Schools Summer Vacation is starting where I live and even tho I don't get to enjoy that anymore, it gave me the idea for this prompt :D If anyone wants to use it please do but... uhm please tag me then? I am so curious what other ideas fanfic writers could come up with for this. Thank you! And happy Vacation time to everyone that gets to enjoy it!

Camping.

Its concept was the bane of existence for some teenagers and kids while others very much enjoyed that type of vacation. Danny belongs to the type that enjoys this type of vacation. Because going camping used to mean his parents were not stuck in the lab but would pay some attention to Jazz and him. It meant that for once ghosts weren't the most important things to his parents. It meant a literal break.

So when his parents told Jazz and him about a camping trip they were planning he was at first excited. Maybe it would be like the trips they used to go on. Something to remember, roasting marshmallows, fishing, exploring the woods. A change from everything that had become normal.

That was until he arrived at the scene at the camping place and his parents set up a mobile laboratory and various security measures to protect Jazz and Danny from any possible ghost attacks. Just because they weren't in Amity Park right now, didn't mean some ghost scum wouldn't try anything to harm them, or at least that was what his dad said.

Danny had flinched and backed away from his parents that were busy setting up a laboratory instead of a tent and sighed. His eyes roamed around the other camping spaces and landed on the only other people that appeared to want to use this place for a vacation spot. He was not jealous of how normal their camping space looked with just tents, mobile hammocks, campfires, standard camping equipment and no good damn ghost-hunting equipment or mobile laboratory.

Was it too much to ask for just one normal camping trip from his parents like these people had?

Dick had just wanted to give his siblings some form of normality for once. Vigilante life was tiring and one could easily lose sight of what was normal. So he suggested a family vacation to Bruce to mend that overlooked problem. Bruce hadn't liked that idea at first too but after Tim fell asleep in his breakfast 4 times in a row because he pulled several all-nighters to work on cases and Duke had a near panic attack realizing he had forgotten about an exam and Damian smuggled 9 blades into school because he got annoyed with his teachers all in one week… the man agreed more easily to Dick's vacation idea. Even more so when some of his siblings even mentioned they never had gone camping before.

It had taken some convincing but the eldest Wayne son even managed to get Jason on board. And Alfred gladly pushed them all out of the Manor if it meant Bruce would not be working for at least one week. So come to school vacation time and they all packed up going to some remote camping place for a NORMAL vacation. He was even going to convince everyone to lock away their phones and laptops for the duration.

Well… Dick glanced at the only other occupied space and blinked. That was not normal, was it? The other spice looked like these people had jumped straight out of a SiFy Movie, they were setting up a laboratory! And the adults were wearing hazmat suits! He saw how something green started glowing over there and distinctly but quietly because of the distance he heard machinery starting to hum over there. The man in the orange hazmat let out a boisterous laugh telling something to a girl and a boy that looked dressed normally. The boy then backed away from what he assumed were their parents with clear wariness in his eyes before looking over into their direction with what Dick assumed was envy.

The eldest of Wayne children wanted to ignore the familiar green Color or the yellow tanks that looked like they had a certain green liquid in them. If that was what he was highly suspecting then they would need to investigate these other campers. After watching the other people a little longer and seeing even more suspicious equipment that appeared to be powered by the green liquid, he put his head in his hands and let out a frustrated sigh.

Oh for the love of… they were supposed to have a vacation, not investigate what could be a mobile Lazarus Water research site! His head instantly snapped out his siblings hoping that they had not yet noticed and that maybe he could convince them to go to another lake to set up far away from what would set off ALL of their detective instincts. He could put a tracker on these people and return to that case AFTER their vacation was over. But no!

It was too late, he saw Tim's eyes watch the other space with open curiosity and narrowed eyes, Damian and Bruce were watching with wariness but keeping up a cover as they poked around in a campfire, Cass also tilted her head in curiosity before also turning back to the tent she was setting up as cover and the only one who appeared to not care at all was Jason but Dick could see the way he peeked over the book he was reading at the other occupants.

Damit, was it too much to ask for one normal vacation?

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jaybirddreads · 5 months

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Trolls Band Together

I watched Trolls 3 and I loved it. It's not the perfect movie (there are so many plot holes and things that don't make sense), but it's still really good and entertaining. The story itself was very heartwarming and moving for a 90-something-minute kids' movie.

One thing that I noticed about specifically Branch and his brothers is that they are so much duller than all the other trolls. It's very obvious when you compare their Brozone-era selves to their adult selves. Compared to other pop trolls, the Brozone brothers dulled as they aged. I don't think that it's just because they got older, because we see Poppy and Cooper as babies and they didn't really change in color as adults (you can kind of argue that Poppy got brighter if you look closely at her as a baby and as an adult). Another troll character that we see two versions of is King Peppy. We see him as an old man and we see a flashback of him, 20 years younger, in the first movie. Even then, the only difference between current King Peppy and younger King Peppy is the gray streaks in his hair.

These three characters are all consistent in their colors. Poppy is pink. Cooper is pink and blue. King Peppy is pink and orange.

And then you have the Brozone brothers:

Now, not all of them had a drastic change like Branch did, but all of them are definitely duller than when they were young. I think that Branch dulled the most, followed by John Dory, Floyd, Clay, and Spruce. Since we know that Branch lost his color due to his clear decline in mental health (especially after his grandmother's death), I think that that's why Spruce was the one who lost the least amount of color. I think that out of all his brothers, he's the one who's done the best for himself after leaving.

Spruce is a business owner; his business partner is his wife (I loved Brandy so much) and he's a father. I think that of all his brothers, he and Clay were the ones that really 'grew up'. Spruce talks about how he changed his name to Bruce to leave behind his boyband days when he became a father. In the first flash back, Spruce is the one that butts heads with John Dory the most. During the scene where John Dory, Spruce, and Clay argue Spruce says "Why do you think I left? So that no one would treat me like you did." to John Dory. I think that even though Spruce was upset with his brothers and affected by the end of their band, he managed to get back some happiness with the family that he formed.

Clay is the second on my list because I think that he was able to find support in Viva and the other Putt-Putt trolls. Out of all the brothers (excluding Branch) we know the most about Spruce and Clay's lives after Brozone. And while Spruce found solace in his family, Clay had the Putt-Putt community. Clay, during the band days, was considered the 'fun one' and people (John Dory) did not take him seriously because of it. With the Putt-Putt trolls, Clay is well respected as the 'boring' half of the operation (in Viva's words). Clay has moments in the movie where he denies having any fun at all. We also see at the start of the movie that Clay can feel insecure when he looks out into the crowd and mutters how much pressure the performance is during the first flashback. Between him and Spruce, they are the only two brothers with cemented careers (Spruce as a business owner and Clay as a licensed CPA).

Floyd is third on my list because of one real reason and the rest is speculation. The reason why is because we know literally nothing about anything that he did after he went off soul searching. I assume he probably just wandered around by himself for a while or (my personal favorite headcanon) he lived with another type of troll, personally my mind goes to the rock trolls.

John Dory is after Branch because I don't think that twenty years of isolation is good for anyone (I mean, look at Branch). From what we know about John Dory he spent twenty years alone with only Rhonda (and we don't even know how long he has had Rhonda by his side). I think that she might be the reason he isn't gray-gray like Branch is, because we see how much he loves and cherishes her.

Branch is first, obviously because he's physically the dullest one and we know the most about him. He was abandoned by his brothers when he was a child, a few years later his grandmother was murdered right in front of him and he blamed himself. He isolated himself in a bunker that was meant to be a hideout for himself and his brothers (who abandoned him) for years-- let's say fifteen-ish years-- before Poppy wormed her way into his life. At the end of the first movie he regains his colors and in the first holiday special, we see that his colors have faded a bit. He's not as gray as he was at the start of the first movie, but he's also not the same vibrant blue that he was at the end of the movie. Throughout the movies and holiday specials his colors fluctuate, but he never really goes back to gray or blue.

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #branch #floyd #clay #spruce #john dory #brozone

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heartsforseo · 1 month

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Strawhats with an author member

Summary: You're an author (you go by anon), and one day you ate a devil fruit. Now you can trap people inside your novels. (I think you BSD fans know where I'm going...) The straw hats found you and decided to invite you. (You said yes...cuz that's literally what this story is abt and cuz u were bored).

You live on a small island somewhere in the new world. You work as an author who goes by the pen name "S".

Usually, pirates would come to your island twice a month. The townsfolk were very friendly and you sometimes stepped in when pirates crossed over the line.

One day, you and your friend were hanging out in a small secluded alleyway. Your back was against the only entrance and you were facing your friend who was already opening the mystery novel.

"Good luck," you had said.

Your friend only nodded. Bright yellow light surrounded the both of you. When the light finally disappeared, your friend was gone, and the closed book fell to the ground. You picked it up and turned around, ready to leave the alleyway.

Your eyes locked in with a black one. A 5'11 man with a straw hat was staring right at you with mouth agape from amazement.

Your eyes widened, and you were about to open the book facing his way. But his arm suddenly stretched and took your book before you could open it.

"COOL!!! How did you do that?!" The guy wearing the straw hat asked.

"Shh, don't be too loud or the others will catch us," you walked towards the man, "they don't know about my ability. And I would like to keep it that way."

You took the book from the stranger's hand and walked away. The rubber man beside you said, "That's an awesome ability. How about you join my crew?"

You stop walking and look right into his eyes. "Crew? I don't know anything about you and would like to keep it that way."

The man only smiled back and responded, "Is information all you want? Well then, I'm Monkey D. Luffy, and I will be the king of the Pirates!" He raised both of his hands and made a fist. All this while smiling.

"King of the pirates? Don't make me laugh. Plus, I decided to live here for all my life."

"Really?? But don't you want to go on an adventure? I and my crew always go on fun adventures. You will never be bored!"

Before I could say anything back, a woman with long orange hair came up to me and Luffy.

"There you are! We're gonna leave in 2 days. Next time don't dash away and wait for us, Luffy!" The tangerine girl said.

The girl who was scolding Luffy finally noticed me and apologized. She then introduced herself and dragged Luffy by the ear. I watched the scene until they vanished into the crowd and walked off. I hope that my friend is almost done with the book.

I went to different places for inspiration. Being a mystery writer was no easy task. Especially if you only have a limited view. The sun was almost setting, and my friend was still stuck. My new story really did a poll on them.

I walked into Naty's bar and ordered a drink. Luffy's sentence rang into my head. An adventure? I wonder what it'll be like...My books had always sailed the sea, but shouldn't the author, too? No. Being a pirate is dangerous. My view may be limited, but my mind is not.

As long as I have a paper and pen, I can do anything...is what I would like to say. I took a few berries, placed them on the counter, and left the bar. Today took a sour turn.

A/n: This was supposed to be a head cannon but I accidentally made it as a story...so uh... ALSO PLEASE REQUEST IM BORED AF :((( part 2 getting posted...tomorrow? BTW WHAT SHOULD BE THE DEVIL FRUIT NAME BE???

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lover-of-mine · 7 months

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I have more unhinged thoughts about Buck and costume design choices, so stay with me for a bit. I will be using Buck's previous relationships to make the point tho, so tw Taylor Kelly.

This started going around my head in a very innocent "it's so cool that they chose to put Buck in green during the coma dream" because Buck wears red a lot. Like, a LOT.

And green is on the other side of the color wheel. So him in green during the coma dream deeply bothered me for no reason.

Because like, when Buck is wearing bright colors he's usually around here on a color wheel because there's the burnt orange he wears sometimes too. So they put him in his complementary color, and the whole thing with complementary colors is to create contrast and I was mindblown by that a little bit once it registered.

But then I was making an edit and I noticed that Buck is wearing green when he breaks up with Taylor. Which is fine, we all know the whole Blue and Green thing with couples in 911, right?

So I just moved on with the idea that they put him in green because the relationship is wrong and moved on, until I noticed he wasn't always the green character. Because then shit gets interesting.

Because, when does he become the green character? When he tells her that he kissed someone else. So he's the one wearing green when the relationship starts to fall apart and when they break up.

And that alone for me is fascinating because oh my god the costume department is out there working overtime. But I am a dog with a bone and what's another time where Buck is wearing green? The fight with Ali. Who's also wearing blue, very light blue but still blue.

But also just accepted this as just a blue and green thing with couples because Ali is not around enough for me to use her to establish a pattern.

But I was also on high alert about other situations he might be wearing green, not that all of them fully registered until this morning when it finally clicked that he's wearing green on the cemetery scene.

Because another time he's wearing green on his own is when he takes Red to see Cindy and when he talks to Maddie about Abby and being left behind right after. Also when he's hiding in Eddie's place so he won't have to talk to Taylor.

I don't know about yall but I feel like this does establish a pattern of him wearing green while doing misguided stuff in his chase of his idea of romantic love.

But I have more points if you're not convinced yet.

We established that he wears a lot of red and that the thing with complementary colors is contrast, right? I'm not gonna sit here and tell you that there's a set pattern on when he wears red because he wears red in multiple circumstances, but I will tell you a few scenes that back me up.

Because baby boy is wearing red when he finally lets go of Abby, on both occasions, and when he's literally talking to Maddie about what love really means leading to him finally making the right choice to stop hanging on to Taylor.

He wears red when he finally does the right thing when it comes to love and he wears green when he's trying to convince himself he's doing the right thing. Contrast.

This show is crazy. Insane. Absolute madness.

Edit:

Okay, extra point here. I went against adding this particular scene because I legit can't tell if his shirt is green or blue here. But I got a reply here and decided to check.

so it went to color-hex to try and determine it, well, this is definitely a shade of green. I actually made a whole pallete of his shirt. This is definitely green.

So another point to team he does misguided shit on his quest for love in green clothing because this is the scene where he's telling Maddie about Abby and Maddie is telling him that she's bagging other guys but he chooses to ignore it.

Am i crazy? probably. But what's that thing once is a chance twice is a coincidence and three is a pattern? Thats 4 scenes with the green and him doing stupid shit in the name of love.

#911 meta #911 #thoughts thoughts thoughts #i feel kinda crazy sokasokasokasoka #no hinges left #but it makes sense #it does

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luminnara · 2 years

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Cherry Bomb | Billy Hargrove x reader

The reader gives Billy a run for his money

Aka you’re loud and tough and have a cool car and for Billy that means love at first sight. I might have written him too sweet here but idc, this was supposed to just be a short little thing and then it took on a life of its own and here we are. Sorta follows the start of season 2 but then does its own thing lol

Masterlist

Requests are open!

PART TWO

Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, f slur/homophobia (thanks neil)

Tags: @smenny @infinitelyforgotten

Billy Hargrove hated this fucking town.

He hadn’t even been at the new house for a full week yet, and he hated it and everything around it. Hawkins was a little shithole, as far as he was concerned, full of hicks who couldn’t tell their left asscheek from their right. And the worst part? It was October, and it didn’t even look cool outside.

God, he wanted to go back to California. At least it was sunny there. At least he had the beach. This place was just gloomy and beige, the townspeople all boring and normal. Nice, conservative families, who dressed in nice, conservative clothes, and drove nice, conservative cars.

That really wasn’t Billy’s scene.

At all.

When he drove to Hawkins High one gray morning, he made sure he made a fucking spectacle of himself. He had managed to toss Max in the car before Neil was awake to start yelling and then tossed her back out in the middle school lot before tearing away again. His stepsister wasn’t about to cramp his style, not when he needed to size up the locals.

He had his stereo blaring a Scorpions casette, he had his favorite denim jacket, and he had half a pack of cigarettes left. His jeans were tight. His hair looked good. And he knew his Camaro was the sexiest car in town.

Because how could it not be? Everybody else drove pickups or ugly sedans. He hasn’t seen or heard a single engine that rivaled his, and that stroked his ego a little bit. At least he could become the king of Hawkins, Indiana while he was stuck there. At least he could get the attention he knew he never got at home.

He could see everyone staring curiously as he pulled into the parking lot. Girls—and guys—were craning their necks to see who was driving this unfamiliar car, and when he got out and grabbed a cigarette to light, he spotted a group of girls who were absolutely swooning. He glanced over them and then looked away again, surveying the rest of the student body while he still had the chance to enjoy the fresh, stinking air. Those girls would be all over him, desperate to use him to get back at their parents. He knew they’d all wanna get with the bad boy from out of town. They’d be good for a quick hookup and then they’d either wander off after their great conquest or he’d get bored and move on to the next one, never giving himself the opportunity to stop and wonder how bad it was for his mental health.

Oh well. It gave him something to do, at least. And he was good with girls, and he liked the attention, never mind that it was hollow and performative and none of them would ever actually care about him. It’s not like he was expecting anybody in this backwater little town to give a shit, anyways.

They were all whispering and giggling, the guys sizing him up. He definitely stood out, with his earring and mullet and denim on denim getup. They were all the picture of small town midwestern America, the fashionable ones all looking perfectly respectable and the less fashionable ones looking fine. There wasn’t much in the way of diversity.

It was boring as shit.

He resisted the urge to stomp out his cigarette in irritation. He also resisted the urge to get back in his car and get the hell out of there. He wanted to be anywhere else at that moment, literally anywhere would be better than—

The sound of an engine pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned towards the street.

He was not expecting what he saw.

Because how could he possibly have expected that?

A bright orange muscle car—shit, was that seriously a cuda??—whipped around the corner, narrowly missing a guy on his bike. The windows were down, Sammy Hagar was blasting, and Billy suddenly felt like he was being challenged. As much as he wanted to appreciate this car, whoever the fuck was driving it was seriously pissing him off just by existing, and when they had the nerve to park right next to him, he wanted to explode.

Who the hell did this guy think he was?

Billy puffed his chest out and straightened his shoulders. He was a fairly broad guy, and he knew how to use that to his advantage. He was ready to start a fight just to prove that he couldn’t be fucked with…but then the driver got out, and all he could do was stare.

What the hell was a girl doing with a car like that?

“Hey.” You said as you climbed out, shoving your aviators up onto your head to look at the new guy. “You parked in my spot. I don’t like that.”

He immediately sneered at you. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t see your name on it.”

“Don’t have to. Everybody knows it’s mine.” You said coldly. Then you paused as you looked him over. He didn’t look too bad…but you knew his type. You had to put him in his place before he got too cocky with you. “You’re new, so I won’t make you move today. Consider it like a welcoming gift.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. You were bold. At least there was one interesting person in Hawkins.

“Nice car.” And with that, you turned away, and Billy watched your ass as you went.

———————

You tried not to think too much about the new guy, but that proved difficult when everyone else was talking about him. You were unlucky enough to have a locker close to Vicki’s, and when you approached it before lunch, you found that she, Carol, and Tina were blocking it as they talked.

“—I mean, did you see his ass?” Carol asked in a comically loud whisper.

“I heard his name’s Billy Hargrove,” Vicki said. “He just moved from California.”

Great. At least you knew his name now, for when you inevitably ran into him again. It really wasn’t that you didn’t like him—on the contrary, you were interested. Very interested. You liked his looks. You liked his car. You could guess that you had at least a few common interests. You just didn’t want to deal with him being a complete ass to you, not that it was anything you couldn’t handle, having grown up with three older brothers.

And you also didn’t want to deal with girls like Carol and Vicki and Tina, who did their best to bully you and grew increasingly frustrated when their insults seemed to roll off of you like water off a duck’s back.

“Move,” you grunted at them.

They paused their conversation, looking you up and down with disgusted expressions.

“Oh.” Carol said, wrinkling her nose. “It’s you.”

“It’s me, and this is my locker,” you growled. “Move.”

She did, but not without a loud scoff. “Freak.”

Water off a duck’s back.

You sat alone at lunch, waving at Robin but ultimately deciding to fly solo. All you had was a sandwich, anyways. You were planning on sneaking out for some fresh air if you could, maybe taking a power nap in the car—

“This table have your name on it, too?” A familiar voice sneered.

You looked up to see Billy Hargrove standing there, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, no food in sight.

“It does,” you said, watching as he took that as an invitation to sit down across from you.

You could already feel the girls glaring daggers at you.

“I’m not sure you understand the concept of what I’ve been trying to tell you,” you growled, putting your sandwich down. “This is my spot. Now you’ve taken both my parking space, and my lunch table.”

“Don’t care.” He put his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his hands as he looked at you. “Name’s Billy.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Your admirers won’t shut up about you.” You tossed your head in Carol’s direction. “Why don’t you go sit with them?”

“No room,” he shrugged. “Besides, I figured I’d come introduce myself.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

He sighed and put his hands on the table as he straightened up. “Because nobody else in this stupid fucking town has a car like mine…besides you.”

You wanted to laugh. Not at him, but at how honestly cute he was being. “You like it?”

“Where the hell did you get a Barracuda around here?”

“Guess you underestimated this stupid fucking town, huh?” You grabbed your sandwich again.

Before you could enjoy it, though, Billy had snatched it out of your hands and taken a bite, staring you down. Daring you to do something about it. But you were determined not to react, because you knew his type…and you knew he was trying to get a rise out of you.

You also knew that he didn’t have any food on him and hadn’t tried to get any, and you felt like maybe he could appreciate half a sandwich more than you could.

“Who’d you get it from?” He asked through a mouthful of food.

“It was a gift.”

“Don’t tell me you’re some stuck up rich bitch who just gets cars as presents every year,” he scoffed, seeming genuinely offended.

You rolled your eyes. “No, it was my mother’s.”

His eyes nearly popped out of his skull and you actually did laugh that time.

“No fucking way,” he said. “Women don’t drive cars like that.”

“She did.” You shrugged, using every skill you had ever gained from dealing with your brothers to not jump across the table and strangle him.

At the use of the past tense, you saw him hesitate for a moment. “She dead?”

“No,” you shook your head. “But she can’t drive anymore. The boys all had their own rides by the time she had to quit, and she’d never sell it…so I got it.”

“Big car family, huh?” He asked, almost seeming like he was warming up to you.

“My dad owns the mechanic shop here in town.”

You saw Billy really perk up at that one. “You know, I never did catch your name, sweetheart.”

You offered him a sickly sweet smile as you stood, stepping away from the table and patting him on the shoulder before you left. “Maybe next time, handsome.”

He stared after you as you walked away from him for the second time that day, knowing that not only did he have to talk to you on a regular basis now, but also that he would already do just about anything for you.

—————-

You left school without any further Billy incidents. You half expected him to catch up and try to race you or something, but your drive back home was peaceful—or as peaceful as it could be with the way you drove on Hawkins’ quiet roads—and completely uneventful.

Your family lived in a cozy old house situated right next to the shop, and as you pulled up, you saw that your dad and brothers were working.

“You better not let Mom see the way you drive that thing,” Danny yelled as you approached the garage.

“Don’t let your old man see, either.” Your father grunted, wiping his hands off with a rag before tucking it back into his pocket. “Good day at school?”

“It was fine.” You shrugged, leaning on a car. “There’s a new guy.”

“Family moved in on Cherry Lane,” your second brother, Curt, called from beneath a car as he worked on it. “The mom was in this morning. Said she’s got a daughter and a stepson and a husband named Neil.”

“I met the son,” you said.

“How was he?” Your father asked absentmindedly as he walked to the desk to pull out a logbook and scribble in it.

“An asshole.”

“Language,” he growled out of habit, not bothering to look up.

“A jerk,” you corrected yourself.

“Better.”

You heard the sound of wheels against the cement as Curt pushed himself out from under the car. “We need to have a talk with him?”

“No, I can handle it.” You snorted a laugh. “He drives a Camaro, you know.”

“Damn, really?” Danny asked. “And here I thought the ‘Cuda would always be the nicest car in town…”

“It still is!” You argued.

“Get him to bring it in and we’ll see.”

You rolled your eyes. The concept of Billy fucking Hargrove coming into the shop wasn’t one you felt like visiting quite yet, even though you figured it would be inevitable. If not for service, since he seemed the type to try to do everything on his own, then for parts. You knew the boys—and your dad—would appreciate the Camaro, but you had your doubts about how much they’d appreciate its driver.

“Maybe,” you grumbled, tightening your grip on your backpack strap and heading across the lot towards the house.

“Hey, sweetie,” your mom called as you entered the kitchen through the back door. “How was school?”

“There was a new guy and he took my parking space.” You grumbled, plopping down at the table across from her.

“Did you give him a piece of your mind?” She laughed.

“Sort of.” You paused. “He likes the Cuda.”

“Then he has good taste,” she smiled.

“He said women don’t drive cars like that.” You grumbled.

“Then, unfortunately, he’s a man,” she snorted, leaning back in her chair. “Your father was like that when I met him…’til I finally got him to race me, and I smoked him.”

You grinned. You’d heard this story dozens of times, but it had always been one of your favorites.

“Of course, that was what…fifty nine?” She laughed. “Sure didn’t have the Barracuda back then.”

“So what’s the moral here?” You asked. “I should race him and then when the Camaro can’t keep up he admits he was wrong?”

“Camaro? At least he really does have nice taste. What’s his name?”

“Billy,” you sighed, laying your chin on your arms. “Billy Hargrove.”

———————

The next morning, you were running late. You were never one to show up particularly early, but you had a feeling that if you didn’t make it before Billy showed up, your parking spot was in jeopardy. Sure enough, when you pulled in, the Camaro was already there, and your mood was quickly souring.

“Billy Hargrove, get out of my spot!” You yelled over the sound of Iron Maiden.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he smirked, leaning up against his car.

“Move!”

He looked around. “The only other free spot is this one right next to me. Not sure what the point would be.”

Oh, he was definitely just trying to get under your skin.

You let out a loud noise of disgust and pulled into the space anyways. When you got out, slammed the door, and marched away without another word, Billy just watched you go, grinning to himself like a madman. He had been thinking about you all night, and not even in a dirty way--okay yeah, that was involved, too, but not exclusively--and he had actually been eager to head to Hawkins High just because he knew he’d be able to see you.

He’d never felt this way before, and he really wasn’t sure what to do about it besides keep bugging you. He had already asked around and gotten your name—as well as the numbers of about six different girls—and judging by the way the others talked about you, you weren’t all that popular. On the one hand, he could see why; you were loud and liked to give everybody the finger, just like him. On the other hand…well, you were just like him, and as far as he was concerned, that was fun.

He wanted to get to know you better. He wanted to do more than just give you a ride and try to get as handsy as you’d let him. He was curious about you, and he wanted to get you to like him enough to actually have a real conversation.

You spent the next few days trying not to give him too much attention, but he was always there. He always parked in your spot, because apparently, it was his spot now, and your spot was right next to him. He always sat across from you at lunch, and after the third day, you started bringing extra snacks. Not for him, but because you knew he never brought anything for himself and if he had his way he would eat all of your food.

“Why don’t you ever bring your own lunch?” you huffed on day five.

“Didn’t have time to stop at the store this morning,” he shrugged as he tore through a bag of chips you had thrown at him.

“You outta food at home or something?” you asked. You were just glad he was leaving your sandwich alone so you could actually enjoy it for yourself.

“No,” he snarled with a little too much oomph.

You stared at him for a long moment but kept your mouth shut. You could tell you’d somehow hit a nerve, and it seemed that Billy Hargrove, the obnoxious, attention-seeking bad boy, was a little more complex than you had initially thought.

He was silent after that, looking pissed off as he ate. The problem wasn’t that they didn’t have food. Sure, they didn’t have nice three course meals for dinner every night, but they had food. The real problem was that his father called him a pussy anytime he did something as simple as make himself a sandwich, because Neil called that women’s work, and Susan was usually gone for work by the time Billy was getting up for school. And it’s not like Max was gonna make him anything when she hated his fucking guts. So, basically, he was relying on you to give him your scraps at this point, even though he refused to tell you and look like the weakling his father always told him he was.

You spent the rest of the day wondering about it. The tone in his voice when he gave you that no had been angry and defensive, and he was definitely upset about your question for a reason. You figured something had to be going on at home, but you had no idea what that might be, and you weren’t about to push him when he obviously didn’t wanna talk about it.

So you didn’t bring it up again, but you did start bringing more snacks.

As much as Billy annoyed you, you had to admit he brightened your days a little bit. Okay, a lot a bit. You found yourself enjoying the way he shamelessly flirted and all the stupid pet names he gave you, and you started seeking him out for a change. He was a complete dick to everyone else, but with you? With you, he was actually halfway decent. He even carried a textbook for you one time.

You liked it. And, as always, the sneers and glares from Carol and her friends hardly bothered you.

“Slut.” Vicki said as she passed you in the locker room.

“The mirror’s over there, Vick.” you said as you pulled your gym uniform on.

You heard her scoff before someone shoved you forward into your locker. When you turned, you saw Carol standing there with her arms folded over her chest, a nasty smile on her face.

“Okay, what is it this time?” you asked, pulling your shirt down and squaring up with her.

“I just don’t see why he hangs around you.” she said.

“Who?”

“Hargrove,” she hissed. “Duh.”

“You already have a boyfriend, Carol.” you rolled your eyes, sitting down to pull your gym shoes on. Three older brothers and a childhood full of schoolyard fist fights meant that there was nothing Carol could do to scare you...especially because you had gym with her, and you knew she couldn’t pack much of a punch.

“Just stay away from him!” Tina snapped.

“Why?”

“Because he’s ours!”

You glanced up at her. “I don’t exactly control him, you know. He does what he wants.” You stood and turned away, then paused and looked back at them. “And who he wants.”

They stared at you, their jaws dropped in shock. You just shrugged and walked away, heading out of the locker room and up to the gym. Would you regret starting a rumor about yourself? Probably, but it was worth it for the look on their faces. Plus...you wanted them to stay away from Billy. You told yourself it was because they were just annoying and you were saving him the headache, but there was a little bubble of jealousy you kept trying to push back down. You didn’t want them to go after Billy, because over the past week, you had grown so used to him bugging you that you had begun liking him.

And you didn’t want to think about that.

At least you had gym, right? It would be a perfect distraction, and if push came to shove, you could probably find a way to hit Carol with a dodgeball or something. You wouldn’t have to think about Billy Hargrove and whether or not you liked him at all, because for the next hour or so, you had nothing but physical exertion to focus on, and no boys would be around to--

You stopped dead in your tracks.

The boys were inside playing basketball, and unfortunately, it was shirts versus skins…and extra unfortunately, Billy was on the skins team.

And he looked good.

He was absolutely destroying the other team, and when he got the ball from a frustrated Steve Harrington and made a basket, you found yourself biting your lower lip. Billy was glistening with sweat in a way that was so sexy you thought it should be impossible, and for a guy who smoked so much, he seemed totally athletic. At least he could back up that macho man attitude he always put on.

“Oh my god,” someone whispered from behind you.

“He’s totally better than Steve Harrington…”

“He’s hotter, too!”

You glanced back to see most of the girls from your class had all clustered in the doorway, their eyes all glued to Billy. That jealousy rose in your chest a little, and you had to face forward again before you said something else you’d regret.

When you looked at him again, you caught Billy’s gaze, and a blush spread across your cheeks. He gave you a nod and a smirk, and—had his eyes always been that nice? No way, right?—and he actually winked. He winked at you before jogging off to join the rest of the guys at the other end of the court.

The girls erupted in excited whispers as everyone insisted that he had winked at them, but you were too shocked to say anything.

“Ladies,” the PE teacher growled from the sidelines. “We’re outside today. Chop chop.”

You tore yourself away, following the others in a daze. How had this happened? Just a week ago, you had been totally annoyed by this guy, and now, you couldn’t stop thinking about his abs. You didn’t want to stop thinking about his abs.

He didn’t want you to stop thinking about them, either.

When he saw the way you stood there and stared, Billy finally knew for sure that you were into him, and it made him happy. It also made him happy to know that you had seen him beating Harrington, and as all the other guys congratulated him on winning, he was busy running a hand through his hair and thinking about how he could spend more time with you.

At the end of the day, you walked out to the parking lot to find Billy leaning up against your car, a cigarette in his mouth. Your weird mood immediately soured, and you gave him an angry look as you stomped up to him.

“Off my car, Hargrove!” You barked.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He chuckled, puffing smoke in your face. “Afraid I’ll chip the paint?”

“Afraid you’ll get your sweaty hands all over it,” you snapped.

He grinned and leaned down, looking you in the eyes. “Thought you liked me all sweaty. Or was that some other girl eye-fucking me in the gym today?”

“That was definitely Carol,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the heat spreading across your cheeks. “I was busy watching Steve Harrington.”

Billy’s eyes darkened angrily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Now move.”

He took a step to the side, just far enough for you to open the door and toss your bag inside. “What’s Harrington got that I don’t?”

“What?” You asked, looking back at him.

“You heard me.” He said bitterly. “What’s that douchebag got going for him?”

“Billy, I was kidding.”

“…oh.” He furrowed his brow. “Yeah.”

“Steve is popular. I don’t really talk to anybody popular besides Carol and her friends, and that’s not exactly by choice.” You climbed into your car and Billy actually closed the door for you before leaning on the open window.

“Why not?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Don’t really get along with them.”

“Don’t you have any friends? You’re always all alone, doll.”

“I like Robin.”

“Who?”

“Yeah, alright. I gotta get home, Hargrove.” You turned the key in the ignition and the barracuda roared to life in a way that had Billy grinning again.

“This is a nice ass car, babe.” He said over the sound of the engine. “She suits ya.”

You had to smile at that. “Thanks, Billy.”

His heart warmed at the sight, and he decided he wanted to see you smile more often.

“You wanna go for a drive, sweetheart?” He asked, still leaning through the window.

“Don’t you usually pick your sister up after school?” You asked as you grabbed your sunglasses and put them on.

“She’s got a skateboard. She’ll just go to the arcade or something.”

You looked at him for a moment. “…alright, fuck it. Where you wanna drive, Hargrove?”

“I was hopin’ you’d lead the way, doll.”

“Then hurry up, because I don’t drive slow.”

You threw the car into reverse and he only had a second to jump back before you were peeling out. With a triumphant yell, Billy jumped into the Camaro and took off after you, tires squealing as he tore out of the parking lot.

You weren’t too bad at first, obeying all the basic things like stop signs and the concept of crosswalks. But as soon as you were on a two line highway outside of town, you opened it up, glancing at your rear view mirror every so often to see Billy grinning behind you as he kept up.

The cars were roaring, the road was empty, and soon, Billy had pulled into the other lane and was riding next to you…and something about it felt so fun and so right to be racing alongside him.

You led him down the highway a ways before hitting the breaks and turning onto a smaller road and he followed begrudgingly, a little pissed that he didn’t get to race you for real. When he saw your destination, though, his anger dissipated.

The lake was beautiful.

And you were beautiful, too.

He got out of his car to join you as you spread your jacket out on the ground and sat on it. When he sat down next to you, he realized how quiet it was, and for a moment, he just took it in. He wasn’t used to quiet. He wasn’t used to peace.

“I like to come out here this time of year,” you explained, looking at the water. “It gets busy sometimes when the weather is nicer, but come fall, there’s usually nobody around.”

“It’s nice,” Billy commented.

“You know, you almost kept up with me back there,” you teased, nodding towards the cars.

He scoffed. “I was going easy on you, baby.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Why do you call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“All these pet names. What’s the deal?”

“You don’t like em?” He asked, looking down at you as he leaned back on his hands.

“…I didn’t say that.”

His signature smirk returned. “They just suit you is all. ‘Specially Princess.”

“What?” You smacked his shoulder playfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He just laughed. “It just fits. You’re a princess with a pony car.”

“Muscle car.”

“Whatever you say.”

And you laughed, and it made him laugh, and you decided it was a nice sound coming from him.

“You’re not too bad, Billy Hargrove,” you said.

To him, that was practically a declaration of love.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, inching closer.

“Why aren’t you a jerk to me?”

The question caught him off guard. “…what?”

“You heard me.” You said, noticing the momentary vulnerability in his eyes. “For the past week I’ve been watching you hit on girls like Carol and tell Harrington to go fuck himself. The worst thing you do to me is eat my lunch and take my parking space. You’re practically a gentleman with me. What gives?”

Billy didn’t know what to say. He didn’t like feeling so exposed, because you were managing to strip away every single barrier he had put up to protect himself over the years. He wanted to clam up or tell you to fuck off, but when he looked down at you, he realized that he wanted to talk to you…and he’d never tell you to fuck off, because he never wanted you to leave.

And he didn’t want you to think he was just an asshole, because he wasn’t.

But he couldn’t possibly spill his guts to you.

“Guess I’m just sweet on you, babe.” He managed to say smoothly.

Your heart fluttered. “…are you?”

His heart fluttered, too. “Might be. What’s a guy gotta do to get a date with the hottest chick in Hawkins?”

You were full on blushing, and he thought that it was downright adorable. That was a sight he was used to—girls blushing because of his sweet talk. Normally, this would be when the clothes started coming off, but he was fine with talking, even though you drove him wild. He wanted to hear your voice, and he wanted to spend time with you, and he didn’t want to scare you off.

Meanwhile, your mind was racing. A date? With this asshole? Sure, you had grown used to him being around, but he was the type of guy to ask a girl out, fuck them, and then dump them again. You really didn’t feel like having your heart broken over some idiot like Billy Hargrove. But then again, you had three older brothers would make him regret ever speaking to you if he pissed you off, and you really did like him…

“Ask me,” you finally said.

He let out a tiny breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and gave you his best panty-dropping smile.

“…wanna go to Tina’s party together?” He asked.

You grinned. Tina would blow a gasket if she saw you walk in with Billy, and you’d pay good money to see how pissed off Carol got.

“I didn’t get an invitation,” you said.

“I did.” He shrugged.

Of course he did.

“Just come as my date, sweet cheeks. Unless you’re scared.”

“Scared?” You scoffed. “Of what? Bad beer and public make out sessions?”

“Didn’t know you were into those,” he smirked, leaning forward.

He was suddenly looming over you, and you couldn’t look away from his beautiful blue eyes and those dark lashes that framed them.

You swallowed hard. “I’m not.”

“No?” He asked, and you could feel his breath on your face.

“…maybe.”

“Maybe?” His smirk grew into a grin. “How ‘bout we find out?”

You wanted to kiss him.

You really, really did.

Fuck. How had this happened? You weren’t supposed to get a crush on the asshole new kid. You were supposed to put him in his place, get him to stop parking in your spot, and then maybe toss him a bag of chips or a cookie once in a while so he didn’t starve at lunch. That was it. So how had you managed to develop such a crush on Billy Hargrove?

You wanted to kiss him. You really did. But…you knew his type, and you didn’t want to become another one of his conquests. You didn’t want him to get in your pants and then move on to easier prey. You were sure he could just look at Vicki or Tina or Carol and they’d be on their knees ready to do anything he asked in a heartbeat, and you were also sure that it would absolutely kill you to watch.

But you really, really wanted to kiss him.

“Babe?” He asked impatiently, snapping his fingers in front of your face. “Eyes on me. C’mon.”

You focused on him again, mentally said fuck it, and grabbed him by the front of his jacket.

His eyes were wide with surprise as you yanked him down roughly. For a moment, he tensed, and his immediate reaction was to wrench himself backwards and out of your grip, because whenever someone came at him fast like that, it ended in bruises and split lips. But then, everything was still for a moment, and he was just staring into your eyes. He wasn’t used to girls initiating things. He wasn’t used to not being in complete control with them. But he found that he kinda liked it, especially when your lips met his in a kiss that felt all too sweet to be coming from someone who had just taken complete control so quickly.

But oh, did he love the feeling, and as you sat there at the edge of the lake, kissing Billy Hargrove, he decided that he never wanted it to end.

——————-

You crushed an empty beer can in your hand and tossed it away. The look on Tina and Carol’s faces had totally been worth showing up with Billy, even if you had lost him not five minutes later when one of the guys from the basketball team grabbed him and said something about a keg. Now, you had just finished your first beer, you were very skeptical of the weird punch bowl in the kitchen, and you were on the hunt for this keg and the idiot who was probably chugging from it.

You walked out into the yard and were immediately greeted by the sight of a crowd and the sound of chanting.

Yep.

This had to be it.

“Billy! Billy! Billy!“ the guys yelled over the sound of Motley Crue.

Yep. You found him.

You watched, mildly jealous that he had so much beer and you had just run out, as he finished the keg, threw his head back, and sprayed some in the air. The guys all erupted in cheers, Tommy H. loudly announcing that Hawkins had a brand new keg king.

A smile played at the edges of your lips. You were...proud, sort of? You knew the boys at Hawkins High took the whole keg king thing very seriously. In fact, before Steve Harrington had come along, your brother Curtis had carried the title, and you had helped Danny drag his drunken ass into the house on more than one late night occasion. Now, apparently, Billy was the new king, and even though his bare chest was covered in spilled beer, you thought the look and title suited him.

You didn’t think the stickiness would, though, and you were immediately reminded of all the showers you’d had to toss your brothers into after parties just like this one.

“Alright, keg king.” you said, pushing your way past a couple boys to stand before Billy. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

He was leaning against Tommy heavily, still trying to get his sea legs back. When he looked down at you with a lopsided grin, though, you could see that his eyes were still fairly focused, and when he spoke, he was pretty coherent. At least he could hold his alcohol.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, chest still heaving as he caught his breath.

“Hey, Billy.”

“Didja see me?”

“I did.” you laughed at the manic look on his face. “Very impressive, dethroning Harrington like that.”

“Harrington’s been a pussy ever since he started dating Nancy Wheeler,” Tommy sneered.

“That’s not very nice, Tommy.”

“What the hell are you doing here, anyways?” he scoffed. “No way you got invited. Fuck off.”

Ah, there it was. Tommy’s dazzling attitude. He had never liked you, because you had never put up with his bullshit—or Carol’s—and you generally tried to avoid him. Unfortunately, it seemed that he was practically gluing himself to Billy, and you’d been seeing him following the new boy around with the rest of the jocks lately.

“You fuck off,” you snapped at him.

“What the hell did you just say to me?”

“You heard the lady. Fuck off, Tommy,” Billy snarled, giving him a rough shove.

You were pretty sure you heard Carol gasp excitedly somewhere in the crowd.

“Yo, what gives, man?” Tommy asked as he stumbled back. “She’s a total freak. She shouldn’t even be here.”

You watched as Billy’s eyes narrowed, and all you could see in them was rage. He grabbed the front of Tommy’s Halloween costume and yanked him forward, and for a moment, you thought he was going to waste him right there.

“Don’t fucking talk to my girl like that.” Billy growled, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened.

“Your—what?” Tommy tried to glance at you but Billy grabbed his chin and held him in place.

“Understood?” He demanded.

“Y-yeah man,” Tommy stammered quickly, nodding his head.

“Good.” Billy let him go with another shove before turning to you. Then, as if to illustrate his point, he took your face in his hands and pulled you in for a hot, wild kiss that left your head spinning.

You could practically hear the shock on Carol, Tina, and Vicki’s faces.

“You were saying?” Billy asked casually, letting you go again.

You cleared your throat and steadied yourself again, taking in a breath to replace the one Billy had stolen.

“I was saying you’re covered in beer and you’re going to get sticky unless you wash it off,” you said, ignoring the stares everyone was now giving you. “Come on. You might even get to kick someone out of the bathroom mid-fuck if you’re lucky.”

He grinned at that and was immediately at your side, arm draped over your shoulders as he steered you towards the door. He was enjoying the party, you could tell; he loved all the attention he was getting, and he loved the free booze, even if it was shitty. He had already been crowned keg king, and the girls were all making bedroom eyes at him while their boyfriends tried to act tough enough to hang with him. But instead of paying attention to any of that, he was holding your hand like a lost kid at the fair, following you through the crowd obediently.

You spotted Nancy Wheeler drinking the questionable punch, and Steve Harrington looking distraught. Whether it was about her or the fact that he was quickly losing his seat as the most popular guy at Hawkins High, you didn’t know, but you tried to offer Nancy a concerned glance and received a confused look from Steve instead.

“Hey, don’t pay attention to him,” Billy grunted said you led him out of the kitchen. “Fuck that guy.”

“Alright, Billy. Whatever you say.”

“I mean—don’t fuck him,” he growled. “I’d kill him if he touched you.”

“How sweet.”

You could tell the massive amount of beer he has just consumed was starting to hit him when you glanced back to see a lazy smile on his face.

“Y’think so?” He asked.

“Yes, very sweet.” You stopped in front of the bathroom and banged your fist against the door. When no one answered, you tried the handle, finding it unlocked, and you shoved Billy inside.

“So rough, baby,” he smirked as you pulled the door shut. “If you wanted to get me alone, coulda just asked…”

“Hold still, Hargrove,” you mumbled, pulling one of the perfectly white hand towels off the rack and wetting it in the sink.

He leaned up against the counter in a way that you knew was premeditated, stretching his torso out and giving you the best view of his golden skin as possible. When you turned towards him, you paused for a moment, appreciating the sight before shaking your head and smoothing the towel down his chin and neck.

“Shit!” he hissed, jerking back. “Couldn’t’ve made it warm at least?”

“Come on, you big baby.” you laughed, scrubbing him clean.

“It’s cold.”

“Being cold is better than being covered in beer.”

He huffed indignantly but held still, stewing. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to someone trying to take care of him. The soft touches, the light laughs whenever he made a particularly grumpy face, the lack of blood and bruises and pain...it was new to him, after so many years of nothing but shouting and pain.

“There.” you said, wiping his chest off. “Better.”

He quirked an eyebrow as he looked down at you. You were standing between his legs, pressed right up against him, but there was no blush creeping across your cheeks as you checked your work.

“Y’know, this is usually the part where the chick is throwing herself at me.” he commented as you stepped away to wring the towel out in the sink.

“Oh yeah?” you asked.

When he didn’t give you another smooth reply, you glanced up at him. He was looking down at you almost thoughtfully, his eyes following your every move as you laid out the wet towel on the counter and turned to look at him properly.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He immediately scoffed. “Nothing.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He paused, then reached for you. You let him pull you to stand between his legs again, his hands moving to your waist. Instead of trying to kiss you, though, he spoke, and he asked you the last question you expected him to.

“Why’d he call you a freak?”

You were expecting something more flirtatious, some attempt at getting in your pants because you were together in a bathroom at a Halloween party and Billy was buzzed thanks to becoming keg king. You really didn’t think he cared about why Tommy H. and his clique thought about you, because why should he? Billy was already the coolest guy around, and he’d only been in town for a week. You didn’t really get why he was even into you, besides the fact that he liked your car.

“Why do you care?” you asked stubbornly.

He fixed you with a look that suggested he was just as stubborn as you were. “Tell me.”

“...Fine.” you sighed. “I dunno. They don’t like me because I don’t like any of them, and I’ve had a locker next to Vicki for years, so I’ve been dealing with them just as long.”

And a lot of their parents talked badly about your family even though they needed them to fix up their shitty stupid cars, and you’d been an absolute terror on the playground in elementary school, and your brothers had spent more nights at the sheriff's department than you could count and in a town like Hawkins that meant you were bad news.

“I’ll make them stop.”

“You really don’t need to, Billy.” you said. “I’m fine. And if I really needed help...well, I’ve got three big brothers.”

He snorted angrily, like a bull about to charge. He didn’t like that you were refusing his help. He wanted you to want his help, because he was offering it and he never offered it to anybody. Didn’t you realize how highly he thought of you, that he would stoop so low?

“Fine. Whatever.” he jumped off the counter and eased you back a few steps. “I need another beer.”

And then he was returning to the party, and you were left staring after him, wondering what the hell his deal was.

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

“My god, Billy,” you groaned. “Could you at least give me a little help here?”

He just grunted and tried to push you away, which decidedly did not make it any easier to get him out of the car.

“Quit!” you hissed, hauling him into the street and kicking the door shut behind him. “God, how are you so heavy?”

“M’ muscles, baby,” he slurred, his head lolling back as he licked his lips and grinned.

You wrinkled your nose. “You are so fucking drunk.”

“Yyyyeah....”

After he’d stormed out of the bathroom, you’d lost track of him for a while, choosing to wander and stop thinking about him for a while. Apparently, during that time, he’d won at least one other drinking contest, mixed up a bowl of something that was even worse than the weird punch, and by the time you found him again, he was completely sloshed.

Getting him into the Camaro had been decidedly easier than getting him out again was. He’d already puked on the grass at Tina’s once, and you hoped that meant that he had reached the stage where all he needed was a boatload of water and some good sleep.

Unfortunately, you didn’t actually know where on Cherry Lane he lived, and when you’d tried to ask, he had been vehemently against going back home. There were moments of clarity in his drunk eyes, but all you saw in them was absolute terror at the prospect of dropping him off at his place and then figuring out your own way back again.

“‘M not goin’ in there,” he said as you ducked under his arm and half-dragged him up the street towards your house. “He’ll kill me...”

You frowned. “Who?”

“M’old man,” he hiccupped.

Your frown deepened, but before you could try to get anything else out of him, you saw the front door open and you froze.

“What the hell is this?” your oldest brother, Kenny, asked, standing there with his arms folded over his chest and taking up the entire doorway.

“Just shut up and help me get him inside!” you hissed, trying and failing to drag Bill up the steps.

Your brother took in the sight and sighed. “You owe me, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid,” you grumbled as he joined you on Billy’s other side, hoisting him up easily and getting him up to the porch far more quickly than you’d ever be able to on your own.

“Why’d you bring him here?” he asked as you let go of Billy to close and lock the door.

“Because I don’t know which house is his, and he said his dad would kill him,” you said, following as your brother dumped Billy on the couch. He grunted and for a moment you were afraid the movement might make him sick, but he just rolled over, tucked his face up against the cushions, and immediately passed out.

Well, at least he was easy to put to sleep.

“...This that Hargrove guy?”

“Yeah.”

Kenny grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and threw it over Billy unceremoniously. “Go get him some water. He’ll be fine down here til morning.”

You sent your brother a silent thank you look before running to the kitchen. It wouldn’t be the first time a guy spent the night drunk on that couch after a party, and after seeing Billy in action, you doubted it would be the last.

“He’s the new keg king,” you commented when you came back and set a cup down on the coffee table.

“I thought that Harrington kid was?” your brother raised an eyebrow.

“Not anymore.” you looked at Billy almost fondly. It was a stupid title, keg king, but you were still a little proud of him.

You could tell that Kenny was the tiniest bit impressed, just as you’d hoped he’d be. He’d graduated from Hawkins High five years ago--and then Danny had, and then Curt, and now you were on your way--and he had been one of those guys who would yell and fight and drink more beer than humanly possible at house parties. Now, he was slightly calmer, but all three of your brothers still knew how to throw down. Actually, now that you thought about it, maybe you didn’t mind Billy’s antics and asshole attitude because it felt so familiar.

“Well. He’s lucky you brought him back here, because nobody else’s house is better at making hangover breakfast.” Kenny snorted, heading towards his room. Before he opened the door, however, he paused and fixed you with a glare. “And you better stay the fuck upstairs all night. No funny business.”

You felt your face heating up. “Kenny!”

“Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.” you grumbled, making for the stairs. “Don’t let him choke on his own puke in his sleep.”

Your brother rolled his eyes. “Goodnight, kiddo.”

“Night, Kenny.”

You trudged up the stairs and managed to take a shower before going to bed. You were fucking exhausted, but at least you were back home, and Billy wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere. The worn out old couch downstairs wasn’t the comfiest, but it was a perfectly good place to sober up. You just hoped he wouldn’t leave before you got the chance to check on him in the morning and get at least a shitty thank you for dragging his ass all the way there.

When Billy woke in a strange house, on a strange couch, he was more than a little freaked out. He couldn’t see the piles of trash that would indicate he was still at Tina’s, and he definitely wasn’t back at his place, because there was no way Neil wouldn’t have already beaten the tar out of him for sleeping on the couch.

He pushed himself up and immediately felt the familiar nausea and headache of a hangover. He could remember most of the night, right up until he had walked away from you. After that, everything was a blur, and he had no idea who had given him a ride, or if he had even gotten a ride, but he was at least a little glad that he didn’t seem to be covered in vomit or mud or anything that would indicate his night had gone worse than it did.

He downed the cup of water in front of him greedily and then put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. He felt like absolute shit, but it could be worse. It could always be worse. Now, he needed to find his keys, and his car, and then a bite to eat, and then he could spend the rest of the weekend making himself scarce in the hopes that Neil wouldn’t catch him.

...Fuck.

Neil.

Billys father would have definitely noticed he hadn’t come home by now, and he wasn’t going to be very friendly when he did. Billy wasn’t getting away without a good beating this time, that was for sure, and the thought made his throat tighten as anxiety rose in his chest. He had to get out of there, wherever there was, before anything happened.

He stood as quickly and as quietly as he could, noticing that his boots were still on. Had he just crawled into some random house and passed out on there couch? He wouldn’t put it past himself, honestly.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a feminine voice asked as he reached for the door.

He froze and turned. There, through the doorway to the kitchen, he could see a middle-aged woman sitting at a table, sipping from a mug as she watched him. Behind her, there was a big guy standing in front of a stove, cooking what smelled like bacon and eggs. At the sound of the woman’s voice, he looked back over his shoulder towards Billy, fixing him with a smirk.

“Glad you didn’t die in your sleep, keg king,” he mocked.

Billy immediately bristled. He didn’t know who this guy was, but he was asking for a fight if he thought he could just--

“Be nice, Danny,” the woman chuckled, taking another drink. “I can’t count the number of calls I used to get from Hopper to come grab you out of the drunk tank.”

The guy rolled his eyes and turned back to the stove. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

The woman looked at Billy again and then gestured to the chair next to her. There was already an empty plate and silverware set out for him and a full glass of orange juice, but he didn’t move. This was way too strange.

“Come sit down, sweetheart.” she said. “You need to eat. Then you can run off.”

He didn’t budge. He didn’t trust this. Nice things like this didn’t happen to Billy Hargrove, and parents didn’t just sit there and not shout when they found out their kids got absolutely shitfaced the night before. He was too hungover to even manage that award-winning smolder he was so good at that always got all the moms going.

“Sit down,” Danny growled, setting a plate full of bacon down on the table.

Billy just raised his lip in a sneer.

Danny rolled his eyes before yelling towards the second floor. “Hey, shitheads! Breakfast!”

Billy heard thumping upstairs, two doors slamming open, and then something that sounded like a shoulder hitting a wall.

“Fuck off, Curt!” you shouted.

“Move, pipsqueak!” a guy yelled.

Billy turned in alarm to see another guy, this one more his age than the one in the kitchen, tearing down the stairs, with you hot on his heels. You were still in your pajamas, but you looked like you were in far better shape than Billy was...and suddenly, he started putting two and two together, and he realized exactly whose house he was in.

“Hey, you’re up!” you smiled at him.

“Outta the way, keg king,” Curt growled, shouldering past him.

“Be nice, Curtis.” your mom said.

“Come on.” you seized Billy’s arm, pulling him towards the table. “You have to eat before Curt gets it all, or else there won’t be anything left.”

Your brother was already chowing down, but he managed to fix you with a glare that you happily returned.

“I should go.” Billy mumbled, trying to pull out of your grip.

He underestimated how strong you were, though, because you just tightened your hold on him and dragged him towards the chair next to your mother. “No way. I didn’t go through all that trouble getting you back here last night for you to just leave without food.”

He made an irritated noise, but when both of your brothers and your mother glared at him, he sat down. There you were, feeding him, just like you did at lunch every day. When your mother smiled at the sight of him reaching forward and taking a piece of bacon--with his fingers, not a fork, something that would have earned him a sharp slap at home--he realized where you got it from.

Your family was way different from his.

“Honey, will you go get Kenny and your father?” Your mother asked, turning towards you. “They’re already out in the shop.”

“But I just sat d--”

“I’ll make sure your brother doesn’t eat all your food.”

“Fine.” you sighed, pushing your chair out and running out the back door.

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of bacon crunching, before one of your brothers spoke up.

“You like my sister, huh?” Curt growled.

“Fuck off,” Billy spat back.

“Ooh,” your brothers laughed, glad to finally get a reaction out of Hawkins’ new keg king. “Pretty boy here does talk.”

Billy shoved another strip of bacon into his mouth and sneered. “Shut the hell up.”

“Boys, don’t antagonize him when he’s not feeling well.” your mother said calmly, looking at her newspaper.

“Not our fault he can’t hold his liquor,” Curt said, leering at him from across the table.

Billy may have been exhausted with a splitting headache, but his temper was still there. He slammed his hands down on the table--your mother picked her mug up just in time to avoid any of her coffee spilling, as if she was very used to doing so--and leaned towards your brother, just about ready to grab him by the shirt and teach him a fucking lesson.

“Boys, no fighting at the table,” a gruff male voice said, and Billy immediately sat down as your father appeared.

Billy was waiting. Waiting for the shouting. Waiting for something along the lines of you fucking pussy, practically begging for table scraps, sitting there like some fucking faggot with no shirt on under your jacket and that stupid pretty boy earring. He was bracing himself for a fist in his face or hair. He was ready to be yanked from his chair and shoved into something. It’s what his old man would have done, so why shouldn’t yours?

You snuck around your dad and took your seat next to Billy, glancing at him. Everyone had noticed the sudden quiet that came the moment your father came in, and your mother gave you a knowing look, as if she recognized something you didn’t.

“I told you not to work before breakfast,” she chastised your father and older brother as they sat down. “Makes the whole kitchen smell like oil and grease.”

“Gotta finish that job for the Wheelers,” your father grunted, scooping a few helpings of scrambled eggs onto his plate. He took a drink and then finally seemed to notice Billy sitting there, looking sullen and hungover, avoiding eye contact as he crunched on bacon. “You the Hargrove boy?”

“Yessir.” Still no eye contact.

He realized too late that he hadn’t even looked up at your father, and once again, Billy was bracing himself.

“Bet you’ve seen better mornings.” Your father chuckled. “I like that Camaro. You bring that here all the way from California?”

You watched as Billy relaxed slightly, and he finally managed to look up at your father. You didn’t understand why he was so tense. He was practically afraid. Yeah, your dad could be stern when he wanted to—he had three sons within a fairly short time frame, of course he had perfected the tough dad routine—but he was never mean.

And then you remembered Billy’s drunken statement from the night before, about how his old man would kill him if he came stumbling home so late and so drunk, and realization dawned on you. At the time, you had thought he wasn’t serious. Tons of people said stuff like that, and they always meant that their parents would be seriously pissed off and they’d be grounded for a month. You were starting to get the feeling that maybe Billy’s dad wasn’t really the grounding type.

“I did, sir.” Billy said, some of that smooth façade crawling back into the picture.

“You take good care of it.” Your dad commented. “Kenny brought it into the garage first thing this morning and we popped the hood. Doesn’t even need a tune up.”

Billy puffed up a little and you had to resist the urge to laugh at him. It was actually cute watching him interact with people in a setting where there were no girls and no Tommy H. tripping over themselves to impress him.

“Thank you, sir.” Billy said.

You noticed how stiff and polite he was, and it bothered you. He said sir like he had to. It was more than just because he was talking to your father. It was as if he was afraid to fuck up, because he was afraid of what might happen if he stepped out of line.

Just like that day at lunch, you found yourself thinking about how there was so much more to Billy Hargrove than pretty eyes and a bad boy persona, and you felt like you were chipping away at the walls he had put up, slowly but surely.

---------

After he left your house, you didn’t see or hear from Billy for the rest of the weekend.

It worried you a little bit.

Thankfully, you had plenty of work to do, and your dad saw to it that you spent most of Saturday and Sunday helping in the shop. Less than thankfully, however, that meant dealing with an onslaught of questions from your brothers, all of whom had plenty to say about Billy Hargrove and why he’d better keep his mitts off their baby sister.

You could tell they actually liked him, though. By the end of breakfast, they’d actually almost been getting along, even Curtis. You knew it meant that you would be able to bring Billy over more often, and you hoped that he would actually accept the invitation now that he had gotten some free food and realized that they weren’t all going to beat the shit out of him.

On Monday, he wasn’t in your parking space, and that worried you a little more. You left it open for him, seeing as it had become his space, and tried to wait around...but when he still hadn’t shown up by the first bell, you gave up and went to class.

He finally appeared at lunch, leaning up against your locker in that way that made him look extra gorgeous. You had to admit, the guy knew how to work his angles, even in the shitty fluorescent lighting of the hallway.

“Hey, sweetheart.” he greeted.

“Careful, that’s Vicki’s locker,” you said dryly. “Might get her a little too worked up if you get your cologne all over it.”

He snorted a laugh. “You like it?”

“Your cologne?” you paused and leaned in. “...Yeah, it’s alright.”

“Just alright?” he taunted as you opened your locker.

“Yeah, you heard me.” you shoved your books at his chest for him to hold while you pulled out your lunch, and you saw the way he winced as they hit his ribs. “...Hey, you okay?”

He immediately bristled in that overly defensive way he always did. “I’m fine. You’re always so fucking worried about me, babe. It’s a bad look.”

“Whatever, Billy.” you rolled your eyes.

“What’s for lunch?”

“A sandwich you will not be sampling for me, and a sandwich you will be sampling for you. My mom insisted that I bring you one.”

When he was quiet, you glanced up and saw a strange, faraway look in his eyes. He almost looked emotional. You wanted to ask if he was okay again, but you knew the answer would be even more volatile this time, so you simply took your books from him, shoved them in your locker, and then slammed it shut.

He threw his arm around your shoulders as you walked to the cafeteria, seeming completely at ease and not at all bothered by the fact that absolutely everyone was staring at the two of you. You could see them all whispering, some trying to hide it behind their hands, others not bothering at all and just talking about you at a normal volume.

“Oh my god, are they seriously together?”

“What’s Hargrove want with her?”

“I thought he was into Carol. It’s what she’s been telling everyone.”

“Yo, Hargrove!” one voice called out over the others.

Suddenly, you were faced with Tommy H. and a few of his friends, guys from the basketball team who probably didn’t even know your name. They forced you to come to a halt, blocking the hallway as Tommy looked over your head to talk to Billy.

“We’re gonna scrimmage in the gym. You in?” he asked.

Billy offered him one of those smooth, nonchalant smiles. “Nah. Got plans.”

Tommy’s eyes slid down to you. “...Seriously, Billy?”

“I said I got plans,” Billy growled. “You got a problem with that?”

Tommy suddenly smirked. “Oh, I see. Not really my type, but let us know how it is, yeah?”

The rest of the guys chuckled, and you suddenly got the feeling that you were the butt of a joke. When you looked up at Billy, you saw that he was laughing along with them, in that fake way he always did with people at school. People he didn’t actually give a shit about.

People who weren’t you.

“Come on,” he muttered, nudging you around Tommy and urging you to walk forward.

“Do they really think we’re about to go fuck in your car?” You asked bluntly, glaring up at him. “And you didn’t correct them?”

“What d’you want me to say?” He asked angrily as he glanced down at you. “Just leave it, doll.”

“I don’t want to,” you grumbled, leaning into his side anyways. “I shoulda punched him…”

You didn’t get a chance to see the fond look Billy cast your way. Even though you were tucked right up against his bruised ribs, he loved having you there next to him, and he never wanted to let you go. He didn’t care what dickheads like Tommy H said, he was into you for more than just sex, though judging by that kiss by the lake, you’d probably be great in the sack. No, Billy legitimately enjoyed the time he was spending with you, even though he didn’t really know how to show it.

When you sat down for lunch and he still hadn’t brought up Friday night or the morning that followed it, you decided that you would have to be the one to breach the subject.

“My parents like you, y’know,” you said.

He raised a brow as he bit into the sandwich you’d brought for him. “They tell you that themselves?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Your family’s weird as hell.” He said bluntly, not caring how rude it sounded.

“What makes you say that?” You asked.

“Uh, they seriously don’t have a problem with drunk guys like me crashing on their couch?” He scoffed. “My—most parents would lose their fucking minds.”

“They kind of just…would rather somebody not end up on the side of the road somewhere,” you shrugged. “My brothers partied a lot when they were in school. Actually, our whole family has kind of a…reputation.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where everybody else’s parents talk shit, but they can’t be too mean to our faces because they need their cars fixed.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t care about reputation, then.”

You let out a loud laugh. “You? Not care about reputation? That’s rich.”

“What?” He asked, irritated. “I don’t. Not really. In fact, I—you know, I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“You don’t, but it might be kind of nice if you did,” you pointed out.

He gave you one of those angry snorts, the kind that he always paired with a disgusted grunt in the back of his throat, and it made you smile. At least Billy was back to normal after the weekend, even if that meant he was back to being a dick.

——————-

It was a night a few weeks later that you learned why he was such a dick.

A sound outside your window startled you, and when a second one followed, you decided to check it out. You turned the lamp on your bedside table on and slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, thankful for your carpeted floor and the way it muffled your footsteps. When you reached the window, you saw a familiar face, as Billy Hargrove was clinging to the side of your house.

“Oh my god,” you hissed, opening the window and grabbing a handful of his denim jacket to pull him in. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s fucking midnight or something—are you okay?”

He wasn’t.

He wasn’t okay.

You sat him down on the edge of your bed and he just stared down at the floor. His lip was split. He had a black eye. A nasty bruise was forming on his jaw. He looked like he had just coke from a fight, though you had no idea who he possibly could have been facing when word around school was that he had already beaten the absolute shit out of Steve Harrington.

“Billy, are you okay?” You asked when he didn’t answer.

This time, he gave a slow shake of his head, still refusing to look up at you.

“Hey,” you stepped between his legs and gently took his face in your hands, mindful of the bruises as you tilted his head up to look at you. “What happened?”

“…Neil.” He said. Somehow it was more to himself than to you.

For a moment, you had no idea who he was referring to. You wracked your brain trying to remember if you went to school with anybody named Neil, and you came up empty…until you realized that you had heard the name before, from your brother.

“…a daughter and a stepson and a husband named Neil.”

You suddenly felt sick to your stomach as all the pieces of the puzzle began falling together. Every time he winced when you shoved him too hard. The way he was so nervous at breakfast. His bad attitude. It was all starting to make sense, and you hated it.

“He isn’t here now,” you whispered, pulling Billy’s head to your chest in a hug. “He’s gone. You’re safe with me.”

That broke him. Because he knew he was safe with you. He always had been, from that very first day where you let him eat your sandwich at lunch.

You felt him shudder as a silent sob rolled through his body. You didn’t care if he cried on your pajamas. He needed it.

“Don’t tell,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against you. “Don’t you dare fucking tell anyone about this.”

“I won’t tell,” you murmured as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I promise.”

This time, you heard the sob that wracked him and it broke your heart.

“Wanna spend the night?” You asked.

“…not on that shitty couch.”

“In here. With me.”

He hesitated, then nodded, and a minute later, he was curled around you, breaking down, holding you tightly like you were the teddy bear his father had never let him have as a kid. You could feel the chain around his neck tickling your skin every so often, and it reminded you that it was Billy Hargrove whose chest you were pulled up into.

And nobody else’s.

#billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove #stranger things

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