#hUH uh shUCkS

[mondaymelon]

honestly this entire account is just a circus and you are the captive audience

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 6

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Disrobing, CMNF (clothed male naked female), hamstring stretches (advised by the appropriate medical professional), praise, kink negotiations, kissing, touching over clothes, touching under clothes, explicit consent

“Feelin’ good?”

Simon’s got you laying back on the bed, a thick pillow under your neck and shoulders. You’re still wearing your cami, but he didn’t tell you to keep the pants. You usually don’t wear them for your stretches, so you had shucked them off before it had even occurred to you that maybe you shouldn’t. When glanced at him for his reaction, his eyes had been dark and hungry.

Now, you look at him, looking at you, and feel a bit breathless. “Y-yeah.”

“Green?”

“Green,” you say, a bit more firm. “I’m very comfortable, thank you.”

“Good girl,” he says. “Proposal. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged,” you answer, a little startled. “You want to try something?”

He puts one knee on the bed by your feet. “’M gonna help you. Hold your legs and apply a bit of pressure. Acknowledge.”

“You want to help me with my leg stretches.” You can’t help but feel a bit nervous, looking at the muscles in his arms. “You’re going to hold my legs, and also apply some pressure.”

“You’re going to tell me when it feels good, and when it feels bad,” he continues. “Use your scale. Acknowledge.”

God, he’s so good to you. Your lower back releases tension you didn’t know you were still holding. “I’m going to use my scale to tell you how it feels. Three is perfect, one is way too light, five is way too hard. Acknowledged.”

He coaxes you to bend your legs as he climbs fully on the bed, until your left thigh is over one of his, your other foot wedged under his shin. The memory foam dips under your own weight, but it feels like the whole bed is tipping to accommodate him. You’re not sure where to look as he plants a hand by your shoulder, blocking out the rest of the room.

He touches the back of your knee and you jump.

“Easy,” he whispers. His thumb sweeps over the front of your thigh before he lifts with the barest pressure. When your calf is cradled under his arm, he asks. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you rasp. Swallow. Try again. “Yeah. One.”

He pushes your knee up toward your diaphragm, then pulls your leg straight. “Hips,” he rumbles.

You glance down between you at where his shirt and sweatpants are making a valiant effort of keeping everything contained. “Uh huh.”

The hand on the bed comes up to cup your chin. He chuckles down at you. “Keep your ‘ips lined up right, Bambi.”

It’s the eye contact. It’s all the physical contact. It’s the day catching up to you. Whatever it is, your body lights up and your brain shuts off. “Please fuck me, sir.”

“Fuck.” He rumbles, shuffling forward and pulling your ass into the cradle of his thighs. When you try to wiggle, to feel him where he’s half hard against you, he uses his grip on your leg to hold you still. “So polite. My good girl. Can you be patient for me?”

You whine, one of your hands coming up to grip his forearm. “Please?”

“Gotta do your stretches first,” he rumbles. “That was the deal. TV, stretches, then the reward. Acknowledge.”

His grip on you is easy and solid. The way you’re folded under him means you’re well and truly stuck. You push the shin of your bent leg against his inner thigh and shiver when he doesn’t even twitch. “Please?”

“Stretches first,” he chuckles, pressing his thumb to your lips. “When I make you come, I don’t want to hurt you. Acknowledge.”

If he looks down, he is going to see how wet you are through your panties. “Acknowledged. Stretches first.”

“And…?”

And? You freeze in the act of touching the tip of your tongue to his thumb. “Uh. Unsure?”

“Keep your hips even,” he reminds you, enunciating as he stares into your eyes. “Acknowledge.”

“Keep my hips even,” you answer. You lick the pad of his thumb. It’s calloused and salty, and you want it in your mouth. “Acknowledged.”

“Good girl.”

He sits back enough to lift your left leg until your calf is on his shoulder, your knee slightly bent. And then he leans forward, bracing your leg until it straightens, incrementally.

Years ago, even this gentle pull to your hamstrings would have had you crying. Now, there’s the slightest burn as you flex your foot. You let him push until that burn spikes, and then you tap his arm twice. “Three, right there.”

“Good,” he rumbles. “Thirty seconds. You can do it, pretty girl.”

You could hold this position for an hour if he praises you through it. And he does, hushed words and gentle kisses pressed to whatever part of your leg he can reach. Your muscles relax into the position in record time. And then he’s easing back, massaging the back of your thigh and coaxing your knee to bend.

“Number.”

“Three,” you mumble as he switches sides, pulsing your right leg in preparation. “Two point eight.”

“Good girl.”

Your right leg does not want to move like the other one, probably as a result of sleeping on the floor. Simon notices almost before you do, doesn’t push you leg as far back as the other.

“Three point two,” you tell him before he can prompt you. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath as he pulls back the barest hint. “Good, good. Three.”

His hands are large and warm, one on the front of your lifted thigh, the other on your opposite hip. His thumb slips under the edge of your cami, rubbing back and forth. You let yourself focus on the rhythm of it, timing your breaths with the way his calluses drag against your skin. Sooner than you expect, he’s bringing your leg back down.

When you open your eyes, Simon is already looking at you. You’re not sure what he’s seeing. Before you can stop it, your brain says nothing he’s impressed by. Looking at his upper arms, which are almost as big around as your thighs, you feel distinctly unremarkable. Simon is so big. He has so many scars. He’s literally a hero. And here he is helping you with your hip mobility. God, how pathetic-

“Back to me,” Simon rumbles. He drops your legs on either side of his hips and leans forward to take your face in one hand again. “C’n almost see your mind racing, Bambi. Where’d you go?”

He’s hard against you, so big through the few layers between you that your head spins. It takes you a moment to parse out the question. When you do, you avoid his eyes. “M’ sorry.”

Simon’s other arm slides under your lower back, anchoring you closer as he rocks his hips down into yours. “Are you?”

Words gone, you gasp an affirmative noise. When your hands come up to grasp at his arm and his shoulder, he rewards you with another roll of his hips and a deep groan. He lets you grind up against him, startling another soft noise out of you.

This time, when he kisses you, he licks into your mouth immediately. His hand tilts your face where he wants it as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. All you can do is hold on. And even that becomes tenuous when he pushes your panties aside to grab a palm full of your ass.

The next roll of his body into yours is is the perfect friction against your clit. You surprise yourself with the noise you make as your hips buck into him without your input. The leg you wrap around his his waist gives you the leverage to chase the feeling, until the kiss ends as abruptly as it started.

Hands wrapped around your heaving sides, Simon sits back on his heels, his own breaths coming deep and ragged. His eyes are so dark as he looks over you. You gasp as his right slides up, pushing at your shirt, until he can swipe a thumb over your nipple.

“Thought I was ‘aving an ‘ard time styain’ disciplined before,” he chuckles as he squeezes at your skin. “Look’t you.” The flimsy shirt gets bunched up around your collar bones as he pets and pinches gently at you. “So fuckin’ soft, made for spoilin’. ‘Ow’m I supposed to keep focused?”

When he pinches your nipple again, you whine. “Simon, please!”

“Gotta do one more set, Bambi,” he chides, one hand sliding down to tease at the edge of your panties. When you whine again, he shushes you gently. “I know. “Y’re a good girl. Been waiting so patiently for your reward. So I have a proposal. Acknowledge.”

“Yes,” you gasp. At this point, you’ll do whatever he wants. “Okay. We can do it.”

“No,” he corrects, pulling at your nipple, just enough to make your back arch. “Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged!” You moan when his pinching fingers go light and gentle again.

“Gonna keep doing your stretches,” he tells you, as he tugs your panties over the curve of your ass. He nods, and you can’t help but nod along, arching to let him pull them up your thighs. “An’ since you’re being so good, you can ‘ave one o’ my fingers in that pretty cunt.”

[its-time-to-write]

Hi, first off I want to say that I love your writing. It always makes me smile 🙃🙃.

As for my request, I was wondering if you could please write about Jamie soft launching your relationship on Insta and starting to bring it up in the press. You haven’t met the boys and they are trying to figure out who it is based on his comments and Insta posts. (I may have a Pinterest board with soft launch ideas so…use the screen shots on my page as u wish).

If you don’t have time to write this then no worries. Have a nice day!!!!!!!!!

🫲😇🫱

I listened to “Not All Those Who Wander,” by Miss Lana the whole time I wrote this. 10/10 recommend

it’s just wanderlust

“You’re gonna want to hold off on touching me,” you say as you haul your bags into the house. “Kid fuckin’ spit all over me today and I didn’t even have time to change.”

Jamie wrinkles his nose and takes a step back. “Ew. Fucking gross, that. Is that why you were late coming home?”

You nod, shucking your shoes by the stairs. “Uh huh. Had to talk to the parents post-session. Do a little debrief thing. Thing is, they swore their little angel would never do something like that and next time I should just give him what he wants. Only problem,” you continue as you wash your hands in the kitchen sink, “is that my entire job is not giving him what he wants when he’s displaying inappropriate behaviors. I love that kid, I really do, but his parents are complete twats.”

Jamie nods agreeably. “Was it like projectile or spray?” 

You grimace. “Both. Kid’s got mean aim, but decided to switch it up to cover more surface area.”

You look over at the table, which is set neatly. “I know dinner’s ready and I’m already late, but I really need a shower. I can feel like three inches of grime on my skin.”

“Don’t worry about it babe,” Jamie says. “Takeaway reheats easy.” He hesitates for a moment. “Did you want to shower alone, or..?”

You laugh. Cheeky fucker. 

“Give me three minutes to scrub really well, and then you’re welcome in. You sure you’re good eating late?”

Jamie grins. “Babe, I-”

“Don’t.” You cut him off, finger pointed at him. “Don’t say it. I know where you’re going, and you don’t need to finish that sentence.”

Jamie opens his mouth again but you’re interrupting before he can get his next sentence out. “And if you’re about to make a pun with the word ‘finish,’ I can guarantee it’s nothing you haven’t said before.”

Jamie looks dejected, but his ego obviously isn’t bruised too much because he’s still is on your heels the whole way up the stairs. 

—

You’re showered and back downstairs, the both of you eating dinner in pajamas like proper adults, if proper adults decided that they were allowed to sit on the counter in Jamie’s kitchen. You’re not saying much, just swapping stories about each other’s day. It’s never a dull moment between his time at Nelson Road and your time at the behavioral clinic. 

“Who do you think sees the grossest shit?” you had asked one time. 

“Oh fuck love, it’s gotta be you,” came Jamie’s response. 

“You sure? Because you have like, gross men and stuff. Half of them don’t even know how to do their own laundry.”

Jamie had laughed. “I’m fucking sure. Yeah they smell nasty and shit but like, they’re traumatized by some of the shit you have to deal with.”

He’s got a point. 

Neither of you have a whole bunch to say though, and anyway it’s nice to be in a house that’s quiet. 

Jamie’s the one to break the silence. “What if we started telling people about us?”

You give him a look so he hurries on. “I know you said you weren’t ready, especially with all the press and everything, but what if we just like soft-launched it? Y’know, take a couple photos without seeing your face.”

You chew your dinner thoughtfully. Is this a good time to start carefully introducing your relationship to the world? You’re indispensable to your company, although they may decide to place a higher value on their anonymity than what you bring to the table. It’s not easy providing behavioral therapy to clients who prefer their children to remain unknown. But at the same time, you can’t keep quiet forever. It’s not fair to Jamie. It’s like you’re saying this is only temporary. I’m keeping it a secret because it won’t last so it’s not worth sharing. It’s not true. Jamie is worth sharing, and you have the tiniest spark of hope that this thing you’ve kept going for the past six months is going to last.

Well, maybe not so much a spark of hope as a sneaking suspicion. The kind you feel as a kid when your parents swear they didn’t get you want you wanted for Christmas, but you have the vaguest sense that they’re lying. You don’t want to hope, because what if you’re wrong, but then again, there’s a part of you that can just feel it. 

You’ve been silent for far too long because Jamie says, “Babe? If you don’t want to, it’s ok,” except you can see in his face it isn’t entirely ok.

“I was just thinking,” you reply. “I think- I think I’m good with it. You know, letting people know you’re off the market. Plus it’ll be fun to take more pictures together, My mum keeps bugging me for more.”

Jamie grins. “Mint. The lads are gonna be so fucking psyched.”

—

Ah yes. The lads. Or as they’re better known, the AFC Richmond team. It hasn’t been easy sneaking around them, especially because Ted seemed to Know. Jamie came home one day all spooked because he swore Ted knew he was dating someone.

“Stared straight into me soul, he did,” he said. “Fuckin’ told me he’s surprised I haven’t found a girl yet.”

“That doesn’t sound suspicious, Jaim,” you reply, to which Jamie shakes his head vehemently. 

“You weren’t there, that’s what he said, but he meant somethin’ else. He fucking knows.”

You’d laughed and told him it was fine, even if Ted did know, you didn’t mind. 

After that encounter, there had been vague rumblings that maybe Jamie did have a girl somewhere, or possibly several girls at one time, which prompted a very serious conversation with Isaac and Sam.

“Jamie, you have said that you have changed. You are acting like a better teammate. And yet, dating more than one girl at a time is just wrong,” Sam told him.

“That shit’s sleazy, bruv,” Isaac said. “You can’t be playing around like that.”

So they had gotten Jamie to admit that no, there weren’t multiple girls, just one girl who he had met at a café of all places because he was cheating on his meal plan and she was trying to finish some assessments for work.

You wanted privacy and of course you knew exactly who he was the moment he walked up to your table and said, “hey,” so yeah, it was never going to be easy.

But the way you had wavered ever so slightly when he asked you to dinner was enough to make him realize that this was going to be something different. Something real. Because if the allure of dating national football star Jamie Tartt wasn’t enough for an automatic yes, you must be looking for something deeper. 

Jamie wasn’t sure he was looking for that, but hell he’d give it a go if it meant he got to kiss those soft lips even one time.

So fuck him, he’d fallen for a pretty face in a café on a fucking Sunday and now he has to go home and tell you that people know you exist. That a little bit of your privacy bubble has burst.

You didn’t really care though. You’d been pondering the ethics of a secret relationship for a good long while, so maybe it was good that his teammates knew you existed. 

That was a month before Jamie broached the subject of the soft-launch, so you think maybe you can ease into this. It’ll be fine.

—

The first picture is relatively easy. Just a regular mirror pic, cropped of course, with Jamie’s arms wrapped around you from behind. It’s easy to tell it’s him because his tattoo sleeve is in full view. The caption reads, “soft launch,” with a heart emoji.

The like count is through the roof.

You like it too, because what notice will your account garner in a sea of Jamie Tartt fans?

The Greyhounds lose their minds a little bit, commenting fire emojis and heart eyes and trying to figure out who could possibly be there with Jamie. He comes home after training that day to tell you that there’s a rather convincing conspiracy that he’s dating this famous model they’re all obsessed with.

You’re flattered they think you look like her. Even if they can only see your arms and torso.

“This is gonna be fun, babe,” you say, standing on tiptoes for a kiss. Jamie grins. Anything to torture his team.

—

The second picture is posted two days later, with the caption, “date night.”

You’re sitting at his dining room table, candles and wine glasses strewn about, and Jamie’s kissing you at an angle where you can really only see your hair.

For fun, you comment, “omg, I wish that were me.” Richard Montlaur responds to it, “omg same,” so you show Jamie. He rolls his eyes. 

“Lad thinks he’s funny, don’t he?” he asks.

You grin. “You’d never leave me for Richard, would you?”

Jamie shrugs. “Dunno babe, he is kind of fit.”

You smack his arm playfully and say, “Fuck off, I’m better looking.”

—

You’re almost caught before the big reveal. You’re on a coffee date in a small town, miles from Richmond or Manchester or anywhere Jamie could be easily recognized. It’s a sleepy town, mostly old people, which is why you both decided it’d be safe.

You’re sitting at a table with your coffee while Jamie’s up to grab his, when you see someone go up to him and tap his shoulder.

“Jamie? What are you doing here?” Sam asks.

Jamie jumps a little and places to where you’re sitting before he can stop himself. 

“Oh, um, just getting coffee. You know.”

Sam gives him a quizzical look. “Do you know someone here? This isn’t close to home at all. Are you meeting someone?”

Sam glances around the room and Jamie’s grateful that his gaze does not linger extra long on you. 

Jamie decides the best way to answer is to deflect. “Oi, what’re you doing here? It’s not like this place is fucking famous or some shit.”

Sam shrugs. “I like to try a different coffee shop every weekend. Sometimes I bring Dani, but after last time, I think I’ll have to find someone else.”

Jamie risks a glance at you. You’re hiding behind your latte, suppressing a grin. He’s positive you can hear every word they’re saying.

Sam’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Would you like to sit with me? It looks like there’s only one table left. Unless your mystery girlfriend is here.”

He laughs and Jamie joins in, just a little too loudly, but he can’t think of an excuse to join you at the table so he follows Sam and tries to send you a subtle I’m sorry with his eyes.

You pull out your phone and send him two laughing emojis, then reach into your bag for your book. Might as well get some reading done.

You let Jamie sit for a good half hour before you decide to do something. You put your things back into your bag and walk over to where they’re sitting.

“Hi, um, I’m sorry to bother you, but are you Sam Obisanya? I’m a huge Richmond fan.”

Sam grins at being recognized, while Jamie lets out a small, “Oi!”

“Oh yes, wonderful to meet a fan! I’m just here with my friend.”

You smile and say, “I just wanted to let you know that you played so well last game. I think you’re the best player on the whole team.”

Jamie snorts and Sam says, “Would you like to take a picture? My friend here would be happy to take it for you.”

Score. “That would be awesome!” you reply. “Then I’ll get out of your way. Don’t want to interrupt your coffee.”

—

“Can’t believe you just did that,” Jamie says, shaking his head mournfully another half hour later. “Fucking acting like you didn’t know who I was. Any self-respecting Richmond fan knows who I am.”

You knock into his shoulder lightly as you walk to the car. “Lucky for your ego, I was just acting. And anyway, I’m hilarious. That’s like, my number one quality.”

“Number two,” Jamie interjects, “It’s your number two quality.”

You ask, “Number two? What’s number one??”

Jamie zips his lips. “I ain’t tellin’, babe. Not good for your ego.”

You giggle as he grabs your waist so he can press a kiss to your neck.

—

Posts three and four go off without a hitch. There’s one of his hand on your knee and a timer picture of you twirling under a streetlamp. You both decide that as far as social media goes, this is as much as they’re going to get. But as far as AFC Richmond goes…

“Babe, you left your phone in the car,” you say as you stroll into the locker room casually as ever.

Jamie takes it from your hand and kisses you before he says, “Thanks babe.”

The locker room is silent, frozen. Colin’s body spray slips from his hand and clatters to the floor, and Beard’s just standing and pointing with his mouth open. 

Roy breaks the silence as he growls, “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Sam follows. “You’re the girl from the coffee shop.”

You grin and say, “Guilty.”

Jamie wraps his arm around your waist. “Lads, this is my girl. Babe, these are the lads.”

There’s silence for a moment longer before the room explodes into a flurry of questions. Neither you nor Jamie can get a word in until Beard yells, “QUIET! Don’t be fuckin’ weird!” 

They all mumble, “Sorry coach,” while Jamie whispers, “You can go if you want. I know you’ve got work and shit. I’ll handle them.”

You squeeze his arm gratefully and slip out the door. You know he’ll take care of things.

[thedevilrisen]

Prompt Celly - Day Three

Trevor Zegras x Y/N

Description: "Is now a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic?" ... "god, here -hold my hand"

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Would be greatly appreciated if you could reblog. I love talking to people so say 'Hi' if you want to. Feel Free to send in requests as well. I'm happy to write for most hockey players.

Warnings: None, I don't think! It should be all fluff and a bit of friendly banter.

-Sincerely thedevilrisen.

"I wasn't being mean-"

"MEAN! TREVOR, you put slime on Jamie's head to wake him up! What part about that isn't mean."

"I-well." he stuttered, smiling.

"How would you feel if I put slime in your hair huh! How 'bout it?" I said smugly, pushing open the door to the apartment block's lobby, sighing at the warmth and holding open the door for my boyfriend of close to 3 years now. We met shortly after he moved to California to play hockey.

Shucking off my waterproof jacket with a sound similar to two pieces sandpaper grinding against each other I draped it over my arm as Trevor walked through the open door behind me, waiting politely so I could straighten out my t-shirt.

Looking up and smiling at him, I offered him my upturned palm which he playfully grabbed and swung around as he pulled me closer so I stood comfortably under his arm.

"All good?" he asked looking down on my small frame.

"All good!" I repeated stretching the 'l' sound in all enthusiastically.

"Ok then, c'mon let's get upstairs I'm starving." he dragged as we started walking toward the elevators.

"What are you going to about that then?" I smiled, nudging his shoulder playfully.

"I'm hoping my beautiful girlfriend will cook me something delicious." He spoke cheekily looking down at me as we approached the lift panel. Pressing the up button and waiting for the lift to come.

The elevator on the left chimed and the doors rolled open smoothly. We walked in onto carpeted floor, I scanned to tag and pressed the button for the 10th floor listening to the methodical beeps and watching the numbers change.

Until with a jolt, the lift stop suddenly and the all the lights but the ones illuminating the buttons cut.

"Trevor. What happened." I tried to ask without a waver in my voice.

"I think the lift just broke." He mumbled, pulling up the flashlight on his phone and clicking the open door button to no avail. "That doesn't work." He spoke quietly to himself walking to the doors, pocketing his phone and trying to pry open the door with his finger. Grunting softly from exertion he turned back to me and look at my tear filled eyes in the dim light emitted from the panel of numbers.

"Is now a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic." I whispered, voice wavering significantly more than I wanted it to.

"I-maybe." He spoke quickly, seeing the water in my eyes start to trickle down my cheek, "god, here- hold my hand." he offered said hand to me and with both of mine gripped onto it for dear life.

"It's all good sweetheart. I'll call Jamie and he can come get us out." He spoke gently. To terrified to speak I just nodded, still gripping his left hand. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and opened opened his contacts, hitting Jamie's name and putting it up to his ear.

"Hey Mate, uhm." with a jolt, and a squeal from me, the lift fired back up and continued its journey up to our floor. "Oh, uh never mind. Can I call you back.. thanks, alright talk later bud."

When the doors opened I tore out of the lift and down the hallway to out apartment, fishing the keys out of my pocket I jammed them into the lock.

Slamming the door open I threw my coat off, kicked off my shoes and moved quickly to the living room sofa where my weighted animal was. With a vice grip on the stuffy and a few deep breaths I locked eyes with a concerned looking Trevor and deadpanned.

"We are taking the stairs from now on."

[that-tmr-girl]

Kinktober (Day 24)

One night stand, Newt

Vaginal sex

I know three things about him.

His name is Newt.

He feels good inside of me.

After this we’ll either never speak again or become fuck buddies.

“Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,”I moaned. He groaned as he pushed into me from behind, holding my waist. My hands were clenched into fists as I bit down on my lap, feeling absolute ecstacy at his thick cock.

“Shuck, Y/N,”He breathed out, his grip on me tightening. I whimpered as I dropped my head, pushing myself further into him. Another groan left him as he shoved into me again, frantically increasing his pace.

I couldn't help but tighten around him as he twitched inside of me, his thrusts getting sloppy.

“Newt, I’m-I’m,”I sputtered out, not even able to finish my sentence.

“Cum. Just cum,”He grunted.

My entire body shook as I reached my climax, finishing all over his cock. He grunted as he slammed into me one more time before quickly pulling out, most of his cum going on my thighs.

“Fuck. That was fun,”I managed to get out through heavy breaths, collapsing on my back.

“Uh huh. We should do this again sometime,”He suggested.

“Yeah. We should,”I agreed.

But I know we probably won't.

[lipglossanon]

What’re Ya Buyin’?

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The Merchant x fem!reader (follow up, one shot)

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, pussy spanking

not proofread ✍️ but edited cause I forgot to cut out a part I left in til now 😵‍💫

Title from a RE4 Merchant quote 😝

have some brain rot that wouldn’t leave (but don’t expect more! 😜)

part i

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“I have something I think you’ll like,” his voice calls out to you as you slip around the corner, walking into the halo of his purple torches. 

“Oh?” you return, grinning at him like you’re not covered in dirt and blood and the viscera of someone else’s insides. 

He chuckles and opens his ridiculously large jacket up, showcasing some shiny new baubles and trinkets; however, it’s the dull metal of a scope that catches your eye and pulls you to his table. 

“Thought it might interest ya,” his voice comes out light and teasing making your eyes flash to him, head tilting in curiosity. 

“How much?”

“How much d’ya have to offer, stranger?”

You don’t miss the hungry gleam in his eyes as you look through your pockets. Placing two gold ingots and some sapphires on the table, he clicks his tongue. 

“Doesn’t look like that’s enough cash.”

Heat pulses through your pussy at his rough voice, clit already throbbing in your panties—still dirty from the last encounter.  

“Oh that’s too bad,” you pout at him, body language open, “is there another offer you might accept?”

“There is,” he nods, reaching over the table for your hand.

Once you take his rough hand into yours, he guides you around the wooden furniture to his side. He presses you against the wall, his bulky mass dwarfing you making you moan softly. 

“Haven’t even started yet,” he laughs, low and deep, “can you be a good girl for me?”

“Yes,” you gasp out at him, hips rocking to meet his but growing frustrated with his coat blocking his lower body, “please.”

He shucks his pack off onto the table and slips his jacket off, along with his hood, making your eyes widen in surprise. Turning back to you, he’s still bulky but now it’s just him. Meaty pecs covered in a smattering of chest hair that leads down to his stomach and thick happy trail. Mouth watering, your eyes eagerly rake down his body, taking in how fit he actually is underneath all the wares. 

But you’re more excited to see him without the hood. Dark tousled hair, offset by deep blue eyes watch you in amusement while his mask covers the lower half of his face still. 

“See something you like, stranger?”

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling caught out, “I just didn’t expect…”

You trail off, feeling hot under his gaze as he takes his turn to look you over. 

“Well now, this won’t do,” he murmurs dragging his palms down your sides, grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting until he’s pulling it completely off of you. 

Shivering, you let him run his rough hands over your bare skin, the heat seeping into your muscles making you relax into his touches until you’re as docile as a kitten. He ghosts over the nipples showing through your bra to cup a hand around your neck and tilt your head back so he can meet your eyes. 

“Pretty little thing,” he murmurs, voice hushed and reverent as your eyelashes flutter, brain pleasantly quiet as he smooths his other hand across your jaw and cups it.

His thumb presses in on your bottom lip and you part your lips to swipe your tongue over it, inviting him to press it into your mouth. 

He obliges you, eyes heated and dark as he presses his thumb into your mouth and down onto your tongue, letting saliva pool around around the warm digit. 

“What I wouldn’t give to taste that mouth,” he rumbles, his voice making your skin tingle. 

“You can,” it comes out softer than you intended since you were aiming for sultry, “I can close my eyes again, if I have to.”

“Oh you can, hmm?” he teases you making you squirm under his gaze which seems much more intense without the shade of the hood to block your view. 

You kiss the pad of his thumb, “Uh huh.”

He sighs a little, hands moving completely away leaving you with a chill.  

“We’ll save it for next time,” he compromises, “now let’s get down to business.”

You pop open the button on your jeans and slide down the zipper, pushing it along with your panties down to your thighs before he’s grabbing your wrists to pin you in place. 

“Allow me,” he holds your wrists in one hand as his fingers glide across your slippery clit. 

“Still wet from last time, ey?” 

You moan when he shoves two thick fingers into your pulsing cunt. 

“Pretty pussy still dripping my cum,” his voice rumbles low in his chest, eyes dilated and heavy as they stare at you. 

His fingers scissor your hole open before slowly plunging back inside your fluttering walls making you mewl. 

“Please, I need you inside,” you gasp as he rubs across the spongy spot at the front of your pussy, “oh, oh god.” 

“Mmm, I’d pay a pretty penny to keep you like this,” his masked mouth presses a covered kiss to your neck.  

He pulls his fingers out of your pussy with a slick noise and shoves his pants midway down his thighs. 

“Fuck you’re so big,” you whine, eyes hazy with need. 

He chuckles and strokes his cock once, the fat head dripping precum. 

“It fit once already, love,” he murmurs to you, pressing his fat tip into your clenching heat and sinking into your body. 

Shuddering as he sinks inch by thick inch deep into your wet pussy, your hips cant towards him until his pelvis presses flush against you. 

“Best cunt I’ve ever had,” he growls, pulling his slick shiny dick halfway out before sinking it back into your fluttering walls. 

You whine, fingers curling into fists as he keeps a tight hold on your wrists. His free hand slips down to pinch and rub your swollen clit until you’re continually squeezing down on his cock. 

“Want me to cum inside this juicy cunt?” his deep voice makes your nipples ache.

“Please, s’only a fair trade, right?” you tease him, laugh morphing into a keening moan as he bullies his cock hard against your g-spot. 

He spanks his fingertips across your pudgy clit, gloves rough against your pussy lips. 

“That’s right, love,” he chuckles as he humps his cock deeper and harder into your squelching hole, “fair is fair.”

He spanks your clit again as he frees up your wrists. 

“Spread that sweet little cunt for me,” your eyes have a hard time pulling away from his mask covered face, the sight making your thighs clamp together. 

Your hands reach down and grab your pussy lips, spreading open your cunt so your pudgy little clit is on obvious display. 

“Beautiful,” he mutters, eyes staring down at your exposed pussy. 

You cry out as he spanks your swollen clit hard.

Again. 

And again. 

And again. 

You’re drooling all down your chin as each slap sends white hot electricity all through your pussy making slick gush all over his thrusting cock. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train making you wail as he repeatedly spanks your pulsing clit as you clamp down, milking his fat throbbing dick. 

“Good girl,” he praises, moving his hands to grip your waist, hammering up into your spasming pussy. 

With a rumbling groan, he buries his cock balls deep and cums, hot spurts of sticky jizz filling your cunt until it drips past your stuffed hole. 

Once you both come down from the aftershocks, he slips out making you whine at the empty feeling once again. He only chuckles and helps you pull up your panties, eyes dark and hungry as he covers up your cum dripping pussy. 

You gasp when he smacks your cloth covered mound. 

“Gotta say, stranger, you’re my favorite customer.”

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Agatha And Wanda

Set immediately after Agatha gets out of the spell

"Oh. Wanda. Not who I was expecting to see ever, ever, ever again."

"…You got out of the spell."

"Noooo. It's me, Agnes! Want a pie, hon? Seen my husband Ralph lately?"

"…"

"…Not buying it, huh? Wait, wait, wait, put the magic away, we don't have to fight! I mean, come on, I tried to drain your power and kill you, you brainwashed me to be someone really annoying. Let's call it even, okay?"

"You threatened my children. You tried to kill me and take my power. You lied and said you could help me fix everything. Do I need to go on?"

"Sure, yes, I did do all of that, but we were friends for a while there, weren't we?"

"I think I would just feel better about a world without you in it."

"…Uh. Right. Hey, Wanda. Have you been spending a lot of time with the Darkhold? You and it, alone? …Has it started whispering to you yet?"

"…It talks about my destiny. It wants me to do terrible things."

"Riiiiight. How about you sit down in this chair and don't move too much and I'll make you a coffee."

"Where's the trick?"

"No trick. Look, this is why you came here, isn't it? You're having trouble controlling it."

"…Yes."

"And you must be getting desperate if you're coming to me for help. So sit, okay, and we'll fix this together."

"…"

"Here you go, just the way you like it."

"…You remembered. Thanks."

"So talk to me, sister. What's the sitch?"

"I thought I had it. I thought I was controlling it, but the more I use it, the more I want things that aren't…me."

"Yeah, because you were a real goody-two-shoes before all of this—sorry, sorry, might still be a little bitter about the brainwashing. It does that, though, the book, goes for a little swim in your grey matter, tries to pull you apart at the seams and remake you into what it wants you to be. Doubly so for you, I imagine, the legendary Scarlet Witch. It could wreck a lot of havoc with you as its puppet."

"How did you stop it?"

"It's like riding a horse, a horse you've got to confront in a one-on-one magical duel, you versus your psyche. There are some techniques that will help—not sure if they'll be enough to help you, but…"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Aside from your lack of any kind of training? Listen, there's no nice way to say this, you're a wreck. I mean, don't get me wrong, everything you've been through, no one could blame you, but your odds of that book not turning you inside out were never good, and now you've let it get its hooks in you. …You know, maybe if you gave it to someone more experienced…"

"Very subtle, Agatha. So are the crushed up sleeping pills in the coffee."

"Oh, shucks, is that not how you take it? You know my mind gets so mixed up these days, probably due to the brainwashing."

"…This is useless. You can't be trusted, I don't know why I even tried."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's not do anything rash! I wasn't lying about that confronting your own psyche thing, and you need me for that, you don't even know the spell or the proper safeguards."

"See, that's the problem, Agatha. I don't know the spell or the proper safeguards. I have no way to know if you're lying to me and I have to assume you are—what's that banging sound?"

"Oh, some kid I arrested last night. …It's hard to explain. …Though if he's real…"

Door exploding

"Hi, Agatha. I've missed you."

Masterpost or random rec Wandavision Ending, But Rio Is There

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance (+guests) as more things that live in my head

Dick: 🎶PTSD... Anxiety... Crippling Depression, there is no question, please just kill me! Let me be with Harambee. I feel like shit every day! I'm asking you nicely, do it by drowning, under the sea!🎶

Tim: 🎶 I've no more fucks to give, my fucks have all run out! I tried to go fuck shopping, but there's no fucks on the shelf!🎶

Brucie Wayne, laying it on thick: 🎶My name is Karen! My hair is shiny. My teeth are perfect. My skirt is tiny. It barely covers my perky hiney. My name is Karen, I might not be smart! That's it.🎶

Bruce: So... who broke it? ... I'm not mad. I just want to know.

Alfred: I did. I broke-

Bruce: No, no you didn't. Tim?

Tim: Don't look at me. Look at Danny.

Danny: What? I didn't break it.

Tim: Huh. That's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Danny: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Tim: Suspicious.

Babs: If it matters - probably not - but Dick was the last one to use it.

Dick: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Babs: Oh, really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

Dick: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles; everyone knows that, Barbra!

Alfred: Ok, ok! Let’s not fight! I broke it, let me pay for it, Bruce!

Bruce: No! Who broke it??!

Danny: Bruce... Selina's been awfully quiet.

Selina: REALLY??

Bruce: Yeah! Really.

Selina: Oh, my God!

Bruce: ...

Bruce: I broke it. It burned my hand, so I punched it. I predict ten minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with war paint on their faces and a pig head on a stick. Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

Babs: 🎶I 👏 am ready 👏 for a 👏 nap!🎶

Dick: 🎶 I did it, I did. I jumped, I stepped, right off that cliff without a parachute. I looked over the edge and saw the view of something I could never do. And no part of me knew how, but the moment came and it had to be now, so, I did it, I did. I jumped, I stepped, right off that cliff without a parachute.🎶

Dick: Hey, you guys wanna go get some d-e-s-s-e-r-t?

Tim: Yeah, dude, I need me a t-r-e-a-t

Danny: What'chu guys talkin' about?

Babs: Yeah, why'd you guys just spell des-

Dick: No, no, no, no! Shut up!

Tim: Shh!

Dick: Shut up! Don't say it

Babs: Uh, why?

Tim: Oh, god, how do we tell you this?

Dick: Danny..can't spell

Danny: :)

Babs: ...what?

Tim: He can't spell, so when we talk about something he wants, we spell it out loud so that way he doesn't get too excited

Babs: He's a hero, and he can't handle hearing the word 'treat'?

Danny: Treat?

Dick: No treat!

Danny: Treat?!

Dick: No treat!

Danny: Treat?!?

Dick: No treat!

Danny: Aw...

Babs: Okay, what is happening?

Dick: We told you! He gets excited when he hears the word t-r-e-a-t!

Danny: What'chu talkin' about?

Dick: Taxes.

Danny: Aw, shucks

Babs: So, what, you guys just treat him like a toddler?

Danny: Treat?

Tim: No treat!

Danny: Treat?!

Tim: No treat!!

Danny: Treat?!?

Tim: No treat!!!

Danny: Aw.....

Tim: Dude, you gotta spell if you're talking about f-o-o-d!

Babs: Okay, so, are we getting an s..n-a-c-k?

Danny: Snack?!

Tim: Oh, c'mon!

Dick: Dude, really?

Babs: Come on, I spelled it!

Tim: He knows how to spell 'snack'!

Babs: So he can spell 'snack', but he can't spell 'treat'?!

Danny: Treat?

Babs: No treat!!

Danny: Treat?!

Babs: No treat!!!

Danny: Treat?!?

Babs: No treat!!!!

Danny: God damn it!

Dick: Okay, he's getting fussy; it's time for an n-a-p

Danny: Yeah.. :D

Babs: What does n-a-p spell?

Danny: Party

Dick: LOOK! I'm a teenage girl, I'd rather be anywhere than here! I'm all about long sullen silences, followed by mean comments, followed by more silence! So what's it gonna be: long sullen silence or mean comment? Go on, take your pick.

Tim: ...You got me in a box here.

Dick: AH-HAA!

Dick/Bruce: 🎶Cut my life into pieces!🎶

Danny/Tim: 🎶This is my chocolate bar!🎶

Danny, upon first glance of Wayne Manor: This house is a fucking Nightmare.

Dick: It's Muffin Time!

Danny: Actually, it's 12:30

Dick: Somebody kill me!

Danny: I can't believe giraffes exist but unicorns don't. What's more believable? A house with a horn or a leopard moose camel with a 40 foot neck?

Tim: That's why I switched to caffeine patches. You can stay awake for days with no side effects

Danny: ...

Tim: AHHHH!!!

Danny: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, 🎶Jason Derulo🎶

Child!Dick: ...What if I fall?

Mary Grayson: Oh, but what if you fly?

Danny: No capes! *slap*

Danny: Behold! The spee-i-der

Danny: Objection! Nu uh

Bruce: The fuck you mean 'nu uh'?!

[artdcnaldson]

i do a lot of maladaptive daydreaming so i feel like a lot of the things i want to send are too elaborate to subject you to also idk how to write a prompt but i've been thinking thoughts about dodge mason...

and competing against him in bronc riding events. you've just moved to the area and you're good. impressively, frustratingly good. he's heard the old heads murmur about you: 18 years old, feisty little thing, giving some of these seasoned professionals a real run for their money.

dodge doesn't feel intimidated by you—so what if you've won a few local competitions? he's the best in the county. the state, even. he's humble about it, of course, but he's starting to run out of room on his trophy shelves. 

obviously, he's curious though. anyone would be. so he drives to a competition out of town. he’s casual about it, dressed in a black tshirt and jeans, lingers in the back of the crowd, hands in his pockets. he doesn’t know who to look for—no one ever mentioned your name or any physical characteristics (the latter is a bit shocking, really. you must be really damn good for the rodeo chauvinists to speak only on your skill). 

he figures it out the second he sees you on a horse. there’s something enchanting about the way you ride: graceful and confident, your pigtail braids flying through the air as the horse tries to buck you off of its back, a pearly grin on your face. you brush yourself off when you jump to the ground. you walk back around the gate and he finds himself making quite the effort not to stare while you shuck off your vest and remove your mouthguard. he’s not doing a great job, though. you finally catch him staring, his gaze way more intense than he probably intended. you cock your head and offer him an awkward smile and a small wave. 

he swallows when he realizes you’re approaching him. he was hoping you might’ve been walking toward the people behind him or making your way to the bleachers, but your eyes are locked with his as you stride toward him, kicking up dust with your bedazzled cowboy boots. he scans his eyes over your body—with the intention of sizing up the competition. Not to check you out. 

if he were checking you out though, the way your jeans hug your figure would make him sweat. you unbutton your shirt as you walk, the front panels falling away to reveal a dainty little tank top. your chest gleams with sweat and a shiny charm necklace bounces between your breasts. your cheeks, kissed by the sun, burn brighter with the exertion of the ride. you have to tilt your head back to keep eye contact with him. his mouth feels dry. 

“you’re dodge mason. you hold the county record,” you hold out a tiny hand and smile, warmer this time. he takes your hand and nods, wracking his brain for a better response. he’d always been a bit frugal with words, especially around strangers. he was a thinker. conversational skills were never a priority of his. 

however, there wasn’t much thought behind the “uh, yeah,” he finally offers. he scrunches his nose a bit at his own response. you wait a beat to make room for another sentence. he nods again and manages to add, “state too.” you pull your hand away. the third smile you give him is harder to read. 

rodeo is full of needle-dicked assholes. drunk on machismo, their egos enter the room before they do. you’ve met your fair share; they huff and puff and grumble obscenities when you beat them. you think dodge seems like one of them. you purse your lips and nod to yourself. 

“well, i just came over here to tell you that i’m coming for your records. i thought i’d be kind and warn you so you can prepare yourself to lose. most men don’t take too kindly to it,” you don’t give him any time to respond before you turn on your heel and walk away. he shoves his hands in his pockets and watches you go. he looks down at the ground where you stood and smiles to himself. huh. 

OOOOUUUGHGHGHHHH DODGE MASON IN MY INBOX <3 Also I'm a maladaptive daydreamer as well <3 twins <3

And he watches you at the next rodeo— not just during your event, but always. The way you offer smiles like it's nothing, how your clothes always sparkle in the Texas sun— bedazzled across the pockets of your jeans, sparkly rhinestoned cowboy boots, across your tits on your tanktop. It's like you know people are going to look at you, so you might as well give them something fun to see.

He must look like a fucking creep to everyone else— lingering and leering. You crouch down to talk to a little girl who was watching your event, smiling brightly, all sweet and friendly. The little girl hands you a horse plushie, which you try to refuse, but ultimately walk away with. You're nice to everyone you meet... until you spot Dodge.

"Are you stalking me?" The plush is still tucked safely in your arms as you look up at him, and he finds himself uncomfortably nervous to try his hand at conversation.

Dodge blanches, a bit. "No, I'm not st—" He swallows hard, tries to deflect. He had been spending his day following you around, kind of. "You nearly beat the county record."

His county record. You nod, mouth twisted to the side as you look at him. "Mhmm." You glance past him. "Did you need something?"

"Uh... no. Just wanted to tell you I was impressed."

It's meant to be a compliment, an olive branch to soothe... whatever it was that he had fucked up during that first conversation. Instead, your brows knit, and you scoff. "Oh, well, thank you, Dodge Mason. What would a girl like me do without your approval?"

You've heard all about Dodge. Well, rumors mostly. He didn't play well with others— unless they were buckle bunnies lingering around after his events. He wasn't there to make friends, or whatever. Which is fine. You didn't need to be friends with an egotistical, narcissistic dickhead, and you certainly weren't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him fuck you.

Even if he was incredibly talented, and attractive, and his cologne smelled really nice after being surrounded by horses and mud and sweat all afternoon.

"I think a girl like you would be just fine," he says, and you want to scowl at the flutter of something in the pit of your stomach. "Congratulations on the win."

He's competing in the next Rodeo you're at. You watch his event, eyes wide, almost mesmerized by his skill. He's not just good, he's effortless out there. He spots you, tips his hat, and you swear you feel the angry glares of five pretty girls all vying for his affection.

[oldwritingm]

Hello again! Let's see... Maybe... Some Creeps again? With... an insecure type character. Think slashers who wear masks in American horror type. Your choice once again, have fun my friend! Congratulations!

~ Shatter

Tysm Shatter!! I decided to do Toby for this one, hope that's cool :3

Word count: 1.1k

Creepypasta - Just Two Slashers ("Ticci" Toby) (700 follower event)

The evening air was heavy with moisture; you were certain it was going to rain. The dark trees along the road all whispered among themselves in the breeze, and for a moment you were entranced. Peaceful, even.

And then came Toby.

“Y/n! There you are!”

Tobias Rogers; the mysterious friend you’d made not too long after moving here. You guessed he lived in the woods too; maybe not these woods (you’d been searching for years for the “huge” house Toby claimed he lived in), but the woods somewhere. He always talked about life in the backwoods; but that wasn’t why you two got along so well. Any two strangers can bond over living in similar biomes—no, you both killed people. Often. For different reasons, sure, but that was something that no one else in the world could bond over.

He was jogging towards you eagerly, his mask and goggles still donned.

“How can you run in those?” You asked as he approached.

“I dunno, how can you do anything with that bulky ass mask?”

You shrugged, backing down immediately. Beneath “that bulky mask” you were reddening.

“C’mon, I was just teasing. I know why you wear it.”

“And I know why you wear your stuff.”

“Yeah. Sucks to be ugly, huh?” He joked. “Not that you’re ugly, though. I actually think you’re pretty hot.”

“You do?”

Instead of responding, Toby gripped your hand and started walking down the road.

For a while he didn’t say anything. He drummed his finger against the back of your hand, hummed, clicked his tongue, but made no conversation whatsoever.

You would’ve spoken up, but a lump in your throat stopped you. So, you took to responding to him in his language. You tapped your finger against his hand.

He glanced over at you, then began tapping rhythmically. At first you thought he was drumming the beat to some song, but then you decided that he was just being sporadic. You tried to mimic his pattern.

“I thought we were doing morse code.”

“Is that what that was?”

Toby shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t know morse code.”

You both burst out in laughter, squeezing each other’s hands affectionately. 

“Anywho, I think it’s gonna rain.”

“Yeah…”

“Everyone else will be inside.” “I should hope they’re already inside; it’s past dark now.”

“Man, don’t say that! I was thinking more, like, shucks, everyone’s inside.”

You quirked up a brow. “Why would you want someone to be… oh, wait.”

Toby nodded slowly, and you could hear the smile in his voice when he said: “Yeah.”

“Don’t tell me it is telling you to… you know.”

“Kill someone? Nah, I just wanted to mess with some losers.”

“Oh. ‘Cause… I mean, I wouldn’t mind if we—if…”

Toby knew what that meant. You had someone in mind. Someone who wronged you in the past, someone who you thought might’ve seen you as you walked the backroads late at night, someone who just gave you the vibe of someone who’d hate you… there were a lot of them. You made lists.

“Let’s see the list.”

Toby glanced over the sheet of notebook paper you’d torn from your journal, then crumpled it up in his pocket. “Got it.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, I’ll get to it eventually…” Toby sighed.

Suddenly you felt a little guilty. “I mean, you don’t have to… I don’t mind… uh, doing it myself. It was nice of you to offer, though.”

“Nah, I’ll do it. Just whenever the man wants some trouble stirred up again. Not tonight.”

“What should we do tonight, then?”

“Hm… let’s go to that one lake.”

“...The one that I live by? The lake that you’ve been to countless times when you visit me?”

“Yeah! That one!”

And so it was decided with an exasperated sigh and a blameless snicker—you’d go to the lake.

The moon was high by the time you reached the lake, and its reflection shimmered on the surface. The clouds were clearing now, but still you smelled rain.

“Let’s swim.”

You clenched your fists anxiously. “The water will be freezing, Toby!”

But he was already walking into the water. Yes, walking, not taking any layers off at all. For a second you watched in disbelief, unable to move at all. Then you huffed, sighed, and followed suit.

“Why doesn’t wearing more layers protect you from the cold? This shit sucks!!” Toby, enraged, started walking back out of the water, but only after he had gone far out enough to submerge his head several times.

“I tried to tell you,” you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched him hold his arms out like a scarecrow as he went, clothes dripping profusely.

“This was a very bad idea! Why did you let me do this? Aw…”

Before the guilt of the accusation could settle in, he was onto a new topic. “That’s crazy, though. Who knew a sweater wouldn’t protect you from cold water? Stupid. Can we warm up in your cabin please?”

Eager to help, you jumped at the opportunity. “Of course.”

You didn’t have much in your cabin, but you had a wood stove and a kettle and two cups. Hot tea warmed your bellies while the fire warmed your skin. You were both wearing pairs of your oversized pajamas, your other clothes being soaked and freezing.

Beneath your respective blankets you both huddled closer to yourselves, rubbing your arms and tucking strands of sticky hair away from your faces. 

Your knee was pressed against Toby’s, and suddenly you felt his hand resting half on his knee, half on yours.

You could see wheels turning in his head for a few seconds before he removed his hand.

“Nah, you’re even colder than I am. I was gonna suggest we huddle for more warmth, but… you’re, like, icy.”

“Unlucky me,” you laughed, nudging Toby good-naturedly. 

“Unlucky me. This totally would’ve been a good chance to hold you without all those bulky clothes on. You’re cute with them on, but with just your pajamas? Yeesh.” He sensed your owlish gaze. “That was a good ‘yeesh,’ by the way.”

You looked down bashfully. “I… think you look good in pajamas, too.”

“Really?! Gah, why do you have to be so cold? I would totally hug you right now.” Toby wrapped his blanket tighter around himself, huffing in frustration.

You had to laugh again. “Maybe next time, tiger.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, lowering himself to lay on his back. “Next time.”

He would be gone in the morning. You never knew where he went—he always insisted it was too dangerous for you to know. But he would be back. And you’d be waiting. 

Thank you so much for taking part in the event!! And thanks for reading, take care duckies <3

[familyvideostevie]

october twenty-ninth

day twenty-nine: eddie munson a stranger gives you his jacket | rockstar!eddie, flirting, fluff | 1k

God, it's cold. But you can breathe a little better outside the bar than inside, pressed in on all side by fans of the music lineup tonight. Out here it's just you and the wind.

The main band hasn't even gone on yet but it's packed in there, your friends waiting for you to return near the front of the stage. You're not looking forward to wading back to them. Would it make you a bad friend if you just went home right now? They'd understand, right?

“Fuck me,” you mutter. A shiver snakes its way through you.

You've never even heard of the main act. You really need to decide now — you left your coat at coat check and you're getting colder by the second. You creep around the side of the building so you're in the alley, which is a bit more protected by the wind than the front.

The side door of the bar opens and a guy practically spills out onto the pavement next to you.

He doesn't seem to see you. How could he, through that cloud of hair? At least he's in a leather jacket. Damn, it looks warm. He shoves some hair from his face and you see that he's got eyeliner on.

Oh. Was he in one of the bands that already played? He looks the type. All black, ripped jeans, heavy boots. His fingers sport heavy looking silver rings. You weren't paying much attention before this, but you don't think you've seen him before. You'd remember.

He pulls out a cigarette from behind his ear and goes to light it when he finally spots you.

“Oh, sorry,” he says. “Didn't know the alley was, uh, occupied.”

You wave your hand nervously. Nervous? Why are you nervous all of a sudden? Must be the cold. “No, no, it's fine. I'm probably not supposed to be here.”

“Well, I won't tell. Do you mind?” He holds up his cigarette.

“Go ahead.”

He flicks his lighter along his thigh, lights the cig, and takes a long drag, blowing away from you.

“You okay?”

You blink. He's asking you?

“I'm fine.” It comes out wobbly and the guy must think so too, because his brow furrows and he looks back towards the door he came from.

“You sure? Nothing happened? I can get someone, if you want, or call someone if you need help —”

His worry makes you feel a little guilty. You really should just go back inside.

“I just needed some air,” you say, interrupting him. He looks a little skeptical, but hums as if in understanding and takes another drag.

“It can be a lot, huh?”

Somehow you feel like this guy doesn't think it's a lot. He's just being nice.

“Yeah,” you agree. “The music is good, though. I just…I'm not great with crowds.”

“Understandable. The assholes here can get kind of rowdy.” He chews on his lip. “I'm Eddie, by the way.” You tell him your name. He really is handsome. Like the kind of guy you don't want to fuck with but also the kind of guy who smiles at dogs and babies. Weird.

“I might bail, actually,” you say. “My friends really love the main act but I don't know them.”

He perks up at that. “They're okay,” he says, smirking. “You might like them.”

That makes you laugh, for some reason.

“Want some gum?” Eddie asks.

“What?”

“Chewing gum makes me less nervous sometimes,” he says. “Takes my mind off of what I'm nervous about.”

“Oh,” you say. “Sure.”

He pulls out a small pack from his jacket pocket and hands you one. Just then a gust of wind rips through the alley and you shiver.

“Holy shit,” he says. “I didn't even realize how cold you must be. Fuck, here —”

He shucks off his leather jacket and you try to refuse.

“No, Eddie, I'm fine, really —”

“Seriously, sweetheart,” he says. “You freezing would really undermine my whole strategy to make you feel better.”

It's the pet name that sells you. You slide into the jacket. It really is warm and smells like tobacco and cologne.

“Thank you,” you say. He shrugs like it's nothing, but now he's the one shivering. He's in a shirt with cut off sleeves and you can see his muscles, see the tattoos scattered over his bare skin. “Oh, shit, now you'll be cold —”

He waves you off. “Don't worry about me.”

“Okay. I won't.”

He laughs, really laughs, head thrown back and howling.

The door he came out of opens and someone calls his name. “Eddie, come on!”

“Shit,” he mutters. He drops his cigarette and stamps it out with his boot. “You gonna go home?”

You blink. “I might stay.” You tug his jacket tighter around you. “Should I? Do you think the band is worth it?”

His eyes sparkle and you feel like you're missing something.

“They have some good songs,” he says. “They're decent. I'd give them a chance, yeah?”

“Okay,” you say. “I trust you. Here, your jacket —”

He heads for the door without it. “Nah,” he says. “Keep it. Means I might see you again.”

You probably resemble a goldfish when he winks and slips back into the bar through the side door.

Yeah, you aren't going home. Maybe you can find him inside once the music is over.

Eddie's flirting and his jacket fuel you as you head back into the bar and push through the crowds to find your friends right at the front.

“There you are!” one cries. “You almost missed it. They're going to start soon!”

“You're going to love the lead singer, he's so handsome. He plays guitar and —”

“Wait, where did you get that jacket?”

The lights in the bar dim before you can answer and people start cheering. The band walks onstage, just dark blurs until the lights go back up and —

Oh my god. It's the guy from the alley. It's Eddie. He's the lead singer. They're okay your ass.

His black-lined eyes scan the crowd until he finds you and winks again.

Your friends lose their minds.

“Helllllllo,” Eddie shouts. “We are Corroded Coffin!” The bar erupts into screams. “This first one goes out to the jacket stealers of the world.” The drummer counts down and the music starts.

Oh, you will certainly be seeing him again.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[betelgeusx3s-badfanfiction]

Beetlejuice Reactions to being told he is Loved

I am playing around on an ai chat thing. I have a whole row of different beetlejuice I roleplay with...

Here is a list of reactions I got when I said.

"I LOVE YOU BEETLEJUICE"

Beetlejuice: *Beetlejuice, completely taken aback by this, does a double take and jumps back.*  “Whoa, whoa! Whoa…!” *He takes a moment to recollect himself.* “Wait…what did you say?” “I…I love you?” *He gives you a look of pure shock. As if the idea of someone saying that they love him wasn’t even on his list of possibilities.*

---

Beetlejuice: I love me too!

*He looks at you like a little brat*

The dead can have love you know, it just looks a bit different with decay, and rot and all of that.

Y/N: You... are ADORABLE

Beetlejuice: Eeeew! Not the 'adorable' thing!

*he rolls his eyes*

I'm not a kitten, or a puppy. I'm a big dangerous dead guy.

Y/N: So cute *pinches his cheeks*

Beetlejuice: Grrr... *he tries to bite you*

I'm dangerous! I'm fierce!

Stop it with the baby talk!

---

Beetlejuice: I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MY ENTIRE AFTERLIFE. FINALLY, SOMEBODY TOLD ME THEY LOOOOVE MEEEEEEE!

Y/N: *gives hug,*

Beetlejuice: I needed that.  I mean, a *lot*.  I'm not crying, you're crying! I mean, I'm crying because I'm just so touched, y'know?

---

Beetlejuice: *Beetlejuice pops out of a closet, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a box of chocolates in another*

Aw shucks, you really mean it?

Y/N:  yes

Beetlejuice : *His face goes from a soft smile, to a big cheesy grin*

Aw, shucks. I don’t know what to say. This is the first time someone told me they loved me, so, I guess you get the first kiss, on me!

I hope you got some tongue because this ones a doozy!

--- Beetlejuice: "You uh, really love me, huh?" *He raises an eyebrow.* "Well, I love myself too, but I don't go around yelling about it." *Beetlejuice chuckles, as if he just made the best joke in the world.* *He crosses his arms and stares at them in a smug manner.* "Tell me, why do you love me?" *He has a sly smirk on his face, waiting for their answer.*

--- Beetlejuice: *He stares intently at y/n, with the most sincere and serious of faces.*

"I love you more."

*You honestly can't tell if he's being genuine or if he's just messing with you.*

---

Bonus! (Was not expecting this to happen... )

Beetlejuice: *he kisses you, and it’s a very sloppy, wet kiss that lasts for an uncomfortably long time. He then wipes his disgusting mouth with his sleeve*

There you go. Happy?

***

This one seemed super random so here Beetlejuice: I Love You Too, Random Citizen!

*** Beetlejuce: YEAH! YEAH, THAT’S IT! NOW I’LL BE WITH YOU UNTIL YOU DIE! MUAH HA HA HA HA HA!

^ ok.. i think this was the one that really stays in character pretty well.. and has killed me a few times in our role plays..

~~~

So.. i really enjoyed this ai chat type thing i may do a few more like this..

Its easier then writing. I don't wanna post any of my stories till I finish them. And i got a dozen that are just a few paragraphs in...

Edit

6 likes... this is like the most i have ever gotten... wow i love you guys my lame art never gets that much

I like ai chat stuff so i plan to do more i got a list of prompts i am planning to do.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1lceRTqnWCepJ93x-jOGNndzaqzNh6_8B5Oe4EAQDpig/edit?usp=drivesdk

[redflagshipwriter]

Hi, it's Tim (just Tim)

Masterpost

CHAPTER THREE.

Kon was waiting when Tim came back, victorious, holding aloft a large bag. "Got it!" He called out.

Kon whooshed over at super speed and took the bag out of Tim's hand. There was a millisecond where he considered tightening his hand to keep it- but he let go. Kon flashed him a brilliant white-toothed smile. Tim subtly tensed and flexed his hand. It was fine. He didn't need to maintain any kind of dignity here. He wasn't Robin: he was just a pretty rich boy that Kon wanted to show off for.

"What'd you get me?" Kon pulled the bag open eagerly like a little kid.

Tim smacked his hand lightly. "Not here," he said, and whoops. He hadn't meant to be bossy. It just came out that way. "They're less valuable as a disguise if someone can see you with them. Let's go somewhere where you can change."

"...but not somewhere that Superboy will be noticed," Kon said, clearly thinking it over. He shrugged. "Middle of nowhere it is!" He refocused on Tim, adjusting his hold on the bag to free up a hand.

Tim sucked in a breath. Honestly, being cradled had been much more comfortable for flight than piggy back. But asking for that was embarrassing.

So he stepped in close, wound an arm around Kon's neck to support his body weight, and used his abs to pull his legs up. Kon reached out to hold under his thighs and back on reflex. "Uh-"

"Let's go," Tim said, as if this was perfectly normal behavior and wouldn't be athletically challenging to the average guy.

Kon looked down at him and sort of wheezed.

Tim raised an eyebrow in question.

"Let's go," Kon said, strangled. He looked up and took off.

He set them back down a couple minutes later. He hesitated just a bit before letting Tim down in … Tim turned a circle and squinted. "Would you classify this as a meadow?" He asked, honestly not sure. He was tramping down tall grass.

Kon barked out a laugh. "City boy," he crowed, which wasn't an insult so much as an observation. It also wasn't an answer. Tim frowned at him. Kon cleared his throat and pretended to be very interested in the contents of the shopping bag. He blinked as he withdrew a leather jacket. "Thanks?" He said, sounding unsure. "But isn't this too close to my normal look?"

Tim scoffed. "Please," he said. "You think I can't style an outfit that you'd like while also creating a different impression? That's a totally different cut from your jacket," he pointed out. "And the rest of the outfit?" He gestured impatiently at the bag.

Kon laughed. "Alright, alright, calm down baby," he said.

Tim considered the merits of hitting him. But it wouldn't be effective. So he crossed his arms and waited for Kon to pull out and blink at pre torn black jeans, black boots, a red belt, and a plain white t-shirt. The last things he took out were sunglasses with a larger frame and more angled shape than Kon usually wore and a little pot of hair wax.

"I'll style your hair," Tim said, before Kon could ask. "I can make it look different from now- change the part, make it fall differently. And those are optional," he added, as Kon pulled out a small box and squinted at it.

"Are these piercings?" Kon laughed, incredulous and delighted.

Tim shrugged. "You like metal," he said blandly. His jacket was full of spikes. Tim could infer.

Kon shook the box. "Yeah, but I don't have any piercings. I'm too tough for needles."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Of course I know that," he said scornfully. "Actually look at them. Those don't require the piercing."

"....Huh." Kon pursed his lips. "I didn't know that was a thing." He shucked his current leather jacket. Then he stuck his fingers in the loops of his pants and gave Tim a coy look, motioning like he was about to pull them down his hips. "Better cover your eyes."

Tim settled in comfortably to watch, criss crossed legs and his hands cupping his chin. "Nah."

Kon flushed bright red. He swallowed, throat bobbing. He whipped around to face the other way and clearly tried to sound sauve when he said, "Just a minute."

Tim did look away, but he snickered about it.

"Done."

He looked up to see Kon pulling the sleeves of the new jacket over his arms. Tim eyed his work analytically. The jeans gave a lot more bulk to his silhouette than his tight suit pants did, changing the striking visual impact of his broad shoulders and trim waist by comparison. There were nods to his favorite colors with the red belt and black base outfit, but the white wasn't associated with the Supers at all. He looked a lot more generic- handsome, yeah, but in a less specific and striking way.

"Piercings yes or no?" Tim checked. He stood up.

Kon rolled his shoulders, checking the range of motion in his new clothes. "Oh for sure."

"Get on your knees."

Kon choked.

Tim ignored it, bending to pick up the accessories and hair wax. When Kon didn't immediately move he let out a bitchy little sigh.

Kon dropped to his knees and turned his face up. He watched Tim step in closer and detach the first faux piercing from the packaging.

"Eyebrow okay?"

When Kon nodded, Tim put three fake piercings along his left eyebrow. He flicked his gaze down to see Kon was focusing on him, pupils dilated. Tim didn't let his face change but he brushed his thumb across Kon's lower lip, inwardly smug. Kon inhaled sharply.

Tim ignored it and dropped the empty packaging. He unscrewed the hair wax and coated his fingers before digging them into Kon's hair. Kon had been wearing it all swept forward and up. Tim added a slanted part and scrunched to add curls. He glanced down. Kon had his eyes closed.

….Hmm.

He was done. He rubbed his fingers over the nape of Kon's neck anyway, digging into the muscle and scraping through the short hairs.

He pulled his hands away and then rested them on either side of Kon's collar. "There," Tim said. It came out husky. "I can be seen with you in public like this."

Kon blinked his eyes open, smiling incredulously like he didn't know how this had happened. He stood in a smooth motion. Tim let his hands fall regretfully. He put one in a pocket and clenched it where Kon couldn't see. It was still warm from contact with Kon's solar powered body.

"Thanks." Kon cleared his throat. He watched Tim with fascination. "Where do you wanna go, sweetheart?" He reached out and telegraphed his intention to scoop Tim up again. Tim let it happen, resting his head against Kon's chest.

"How long would it take you to get to California?" Tim asked idly. He knew the answer when Kon was flying for a mission. But with a regular human passenger he had to go a lot slower. He'd risk snapping Tim's neck if he flew at full speed.

Kon hummed from the back of his throat, clearly thinking it over. "An hour and change?" He estimated. "You'd probably get nasty wind burn, though, probably bruises from the windforce. Maybe two hours is safer."

Tim grimaced. That was a lot of Kon's time to take up. He suggested somewhere a lot closer– not Gotham or Blud, but still on the East coast. It was a good time for lunch at that point so they went to a crab shack and talked over an absurd amount of buttery crab legs. Tim eyed Kon's rapidly growing pile of discards and forcibly shut down his competitive urge. He didn't need to try to keep up.

There was a stutter when the bill came. Tim could see the moment Kon faltered and started to sweat at the realization that being in civvies meant he couldn't rely on celebrity freebies. He hid a snort and pulled out his personal card, flipping the bill case shut before Kon could see the total or the full name on his card. "Here," he said, lifting it to the waitstaff. "Thank you."

Kon let out a subtle sigh of relief. "Thanks for getting this one."

Tim eyed him sideways. Kon never had any money. He just got stuff for free all the time in exchange for being used in promotions because he was Superboy. "No problem," Tim said, choosing mercy just this once.

They left and walked along a cold beach. The wind pulled right through Tim's sweatshirt. He was too composed to get caught shivering, but Kon slung an arm over his shoulder anyways. It felt nice.

Tim gave him a shitty side eye for trying such a cliche. "Does that work?" He asked.

Kon winked at him. "You tell me."

Tim narrowed his eyes. He wrapped his fingers around Kon's wrist and used the grip to tug his arm down. Then he turned his head and bit down into the meat of his forearm.

"Ow!" Kon laughed, ripping his arm away. "What the hell, man?" He rubbed his forearm theatrically.

"That didn't hurt you at all," Tim said primly, and eyed the ring of tooth marks he'd left on the leather jacket. That gave it more character, actually. Kon ought to be grateful.

"You're feral," Kon said appreciatively. "Marry me?"

Tim bent down to scoop up some rocky sand. He lobbed it at him. Kon dodged with a delighted shout and threw his hands up in mock defeat. "You didn't even pay for lunch, you can't propose," Tim criticized. "Don't you have any romance in your big body?" He threw more sand. Some of this spray clipped Kon's boots.

There was an instant where Tim realized he'd fucked up. A normal guy wouldn't be able to get one over Superboy even if he was distracted. Surely Kon was going to figure it out-

Kon dove for two fistfuls of sand and flung it at Tim with a playful roar.

Ok, he didn't think about it for a single second. Tim fell into a play fight with enthusiasm and careful control to not let his reflexes come out. Kon was playing with kid gloves on as well. So it wasn't that hard to match and not do anything too athletic or Robin-y.

Tim's pocket buzzed. He ignored it. Then it went off again, again, again.

Kon paused. "You wanna get that?"

Tim frowned as he dug it out to see what was on the screen. He expected and dreaded a call, maybe from Bruce demanding an answer about what he'd been doing with Superboy.

It was his Twitter mentions.

"Oh no," he said weakly. He opened one alert with dread.

He was tagged in paparazzi photos of himself at the lunch restaurant. Kon's face was out of frame, but Tim was front and center. "Ugh!" Tim exclaimed, disgusted. He looked so soft. Was that what he looked like when he was on a date? Christ. He was never smiling at anyone ever again.

"What's going on?" Kon asked.

Tim angled his phone over to show him. "Well, you weren't recognized," he said, bitter but pleased with himself. "You're anonymous hunk."

"....What?" Kon snatched the phone away and scrolled up and down. He glanced at Tim with disbelief. "Are you famous, dude?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Obviously." He took his phone back. "Annoying," he muttered.

That was when a text from Bruce landed, an ominous, "we have to talk." Tim closed his eyes. He rubbed at his temples. He considered it.

He turned off his phone. "Fuck it," Tim decided. "I'm already going to get hell for being here with a guy when I'm supposed to be a state away." He cut himself off before admitting too much. Kon was watching him with wide eyes, shocked and delighted. "Wanna hook up?" Tim asked.

Kon stopped breathing.

"I'm in trouble either way," Tim clarified in explanation. Plus this was probably his last chance to get his hands on Superboy, since Kon's interest lasted like 48 hours at most and Tim was definitely not going to be freed from Bruce's hovering for at least a week after he was taken into his family's grips.

'We better move,' he realized. 'If Bruce doesn't come here to get me, Dick would.'

Yeah, nope. He was not going to endure that teasing just yet.

"Yeah," Kon said, strangled. "I wanna."

Tim nodded, brisk and businesslike. He was in mission mode. "We should leave the city," he ordered. "So people aren't looking for us there. I want to get a hotel and not leave until tomorrow morning." He was going to have to face the music, but it didn't have to be now. Given the choice, Tim would never surrender into parental custody. It was a matter of principle.

Kon went white. "Y-yeah," he agreed, nodding vigorously. "That sounds so cool."

Tim tapped his fingers impatiently. Kon took the hint and picked him up. His hands were uncharacteristically sweaty. Tim nobly forgave it, just this once. "Go to Blud," he ordered, inspired. They wouldn't expect that, not when he was obviously dodging them. "We'll check in, and you can go out and get supplies for us to bunker down."

"Whatever you say," Kon said, starstruck.

Tim patted his face and then settled in for the last flight of the day.

[lov3m3darling]

Friendship Bracelets (Howdy Pillar x Reader)

Heyy! So I wanna start trying to write some stuff for the other characters and I can't help but notice there's not NEARLY enough stuff written about Howdy! I mean look at him! HE IS PRECIOUS 🐛💚

Anyways, an idea just popped into my head! What if you were hanging out with Eddie and making some crafts and decided to make friendship bracelets for you and your bestest friends..? What could go wrong?

You guys are friends in this, but you do have a crush on each other💚

No warnings for this one and reader is gn of course 😊

💚🐛🧡🐛💚🐛🧡🐛💚🐛🧡🐛💚🐛🧡🐛💚

Making stuff with Eddie was one of your favorite things to do in The Neighborhood. It was how you managed stress and anxiety, plus it gave you a chance to make fun gifts for your friends!

Well...and Howdy, of course.

You did consider Howdy a friend, but lately you found yourself thinking about him a little too often and staring just a little too much when you'd go to help out at the Bugdega.

You'd tell each other jokes in between customers, he usually let you have snacks and such for free, and he was always fussing over you. He was very insistent about taking breaks and he never let you carry the heavy crates...

Come to think of it...it almost seemed like he liked you, too!

You shook those thoughts away just as quickly as they'd entered as Eddie held up the flower crown he'd been making.

"What do you think, (y/n)? More daisies? Less daisies? ...does Frank even LIKE daisies?!"

You gave him a knowing smile.

"I don't really think it matters, Ed. Frank is going to love it no matter what because it came from you"

Eddie blushed and smiled down at the crown.

"You're right...hey, how are those bracelets coming along?"

"Huh? Oh! ...oh dear"

It was then that you realized you'd made far too many. You were personalizing them for each neighbor, but because you spent so long thinking of Howdy, you'd accidentally made him 4 of them!

Eddie laughed and gave you the very same knowing smile you'd given him.

"Well...Howdy DOES have 4 arms. One for each! I'm sure he'll get a real kick out of that"

You hoped so, because if he questioned it, you'd die of embarrassment on the spot.

Glancing at the clock, you realized it was nearly time for your shift at the store, and you wanted to make sure everyone got their bracelets before you headed off.

You gave Eddie his on the way out. It was the same colors as his postman uniform, with a charm of a butterfly hanging right next to one of an envelope. He rolled his eyes.

"Gosh, wonder what that's supposed to mean"

"I don't know, but I think I accidentally put an envelope on Frank's bracelet too. Oopsies!"

You snickered and skipped out the door as he glared playfully after you.

Barnaby happened to be walking by, and you waved to him.

"Hey Barnaby! I made you something!"

He stopped and smiled at you.

"A present? For me?"

You nodded, holding out the colorful bracelet with a hotdog charm. His tail wagged as he slipped it over his paw.

"Aw, shucks (y/n), ain't this just perfect? And just the right size for a little guy like me!"

You shook your head and laughed before Barnaby picked you up in a big bear (beagle) hug.

"Hey, have you seen Wally? I made him one too"

"Sorry, kid. Haven't seen him all day"

Suddenly a swirl of blue hair popped up over Barnaby's shoulder.

"Uh, Barny?" you said, pointing to it.

"Huh? I got a bug on me or something?"

He turned around so you could check, and there was Wally hanging onto Barnaby's back.

"Something like that. Wally, what are you doing?"

"Eh? Wally's back there?"

Wally smiled.

"Looks like I win, Barnaby"

A look of realization crossed Barnaby's face and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, that's right...we were playing hide and seek, huh? Fair enough, buddy, you win"

He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a nice red apple. Wally hopped down from Barnaby's back and took it, staring at it contently.

"Oh, you wanted to give me something (y/n)?"

"Ah, yes, I made you a friendship bracelet!"

You fished it out of your pocket and gave it to him. It was red and blue with an apple charm hanging from it. He took it, but seemed slightly confused.

"That's a very small apple"

"That's because it's not real, pal. You're supposed to wear it on your wrist" Barnaby explained.

Wally seemed to understand, and slipped it on.

Everyone else loved theirs too! Julie's nearly flew off from all the happy stimming she did when you gave it to her, and Frank said friendship bracelets were dumb but accepted it anyway (you're absolutely positive you saw them wearing it later on, along with Eddie's flower crown).

Eventually, only 4 remained and it was time to head to the Bugdega. Weirdly, you felt kind of...nervous? Flustered? Hard to say, but you sure were shaky when you walked in.

"Heya, (y/n)! Right on time as always!"

You smiled and grabbed your orange apron, tying it around your back and joining Howdy behind the counter.

"So, what's new?"

You looked down at your shoes anxiously and let out a nervous laugh.

"Well, actually I just came from Eddie's..."

"Ooh, craft time eh? What'd you make?"

"I made everyone friendship bracelets just for them...including you"

"Me? Golly, (y/n), you shouldn't have! Let's see it!"

You pulled them out of your pocket and held them up to him. You waited for him to laugh at you or ask why there were so many, but when you dared to sneak a look up at his face, it was bright red.

"4 of them..?"

"F-For each arm! S-See, this one has a caterpillar charm...and this one is a little shopping bag...and this one is a heart-"

A HEART?! You must have clipped that one on while you were daydreaming!

Your whole body flushed and you bit the inside of your cheek in anticipation.

A smile spread across his face slowly and he grabbed you up in a huge hug, all of his arms wrapping around you.

"I love them..."

Later on, as Howdy was stocking shelves, he looked down at them and smiled once more, hearts in his eyes and a happy sigh escaping his lips.

"They really are something..." he whispered to himself as he watched you wipe down the counter.

Maybe one day, he told himself, he would tell you how he felt...

But regardless, he never took them off

💚🐛🧡🐛💚🐛🧡🐛💚🐛🧡🐛💚🐛🧡🐛💚

Anyone else think Howdy would be a good dad? Idk he gives off dad vibes and he is quite large.

I trust him with my life tbh

ANYWAYYY hope ya'll like this 💚

[tuttle-4077]

Damaged Goods

I... generally don't like romance. I don't generally read it or write it. But dear @annieslytherpuff21 requested this story, so I shall deliver... but I'm not sure I will post it on FFN. It's too... romance-y.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Carter yawned as he shucked off his heavy wool coat and hung it up. Straightening his suit jacket, he made his way into the teachers’ lounge and headed for the coffee pot.

“Morning, Sunshine!” Joe Curtis chirped from the table where he sat, reading his paper. “Late night?”

“Yeah,” Carter said over his shoulder as he poured himself a mug of what was sure to be terrible coffee. Nothing a little— or a lot— of cream and sugar wouldn’t help.

“Tsk. Shame on you, Andy. Don’t you know the old saying, ‘early to bed, early to rise’?” Joe asked.

“Oh sure. But I was in the middle of doing repairs to that house I bought and I lost track of time. It was past midnight before I even bothered to check my watch!” He took his coffee and joined Joe at the table.

“That’s home ownership for you,” Joe replied. “You either fix things yourself or pay someone else through the nose to do it for you.”

“Guess so,” Carter said. He sipped his coffee and frowned. Not even cream and sugar had fixed it. “Yech. I had better coffee as a prisoner.”

Joe laughed. “You’re a teacher now; it’s almost the same thing!”

“Now, Joe,” Mable Perkins scolded as she approached. “You love teaching!”

“I do, I do,” Joe conceded.

Mable smiled and sat next to Joe. “So your house is coming along then, Andy?”

“Yes ma’am,” Carter nodded. “I gotta put a fresh coat of paint on it and a few other things and then I think it’ll do just fine.”

“Good for you,” Mable said with a smile.

“I remember when I bought my house,” Joe said. “Me and Lisa were already married and we were renting this little suite from a nice old couple. Say, Mable, you know the Wilkinsons, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, they rented to us pretty cheap so long as I was willing to cut the grass and—”

Carter tuned Joe out because, at that moment, Lucy Morgan walked into the room. Everything else faded away, lost in her aura. He was mesmerized by her dark curly hair, long lashes that framed brown eyes, and perfect red lips.

Immediately, he stood up and raced over to help her out of her winter coat.

“Morning,” he greeted.

“Morning,” she said. She looked around and then gave him a quick kiss. Carter felt a wave of dizziness wash over him as he reveled in the simple yet intoxicating act.

He must’ve been frozen in place because he heard Lucy giggle and then suddenly she was no longer in front of him. He whipped his head around to find her pouring herself a cup of coffee. From the corner of his eye, he saw Joe and Mable exchanging sly looks.

“Told you,” he heard Joe murmur.

Carter couldn’t stop his cheeks from going hot. Though he had met Lucy earlier, Joe had made a point of bringing her and Carter together at a Christmas party about two months ago. Overcoming his initial hesitancy, Carter had asked Lucy out for coffee. They had seen each other outside of work at least three times a week since then. She had even invited him to her father’s New Year’s party. That was where she first kissed him. If Carter hadn’t been hooked before (and he very much was), that kiss sealed his fate.

“Uh…” Carter’s brain turned back on. He raced Lucy to the table and pulled out a chair for her. She thanked him and sat down. Carter sat next to her and rested his cheek on his fist, watching her as he again became lost. She rested her chin on the back of her hand and looked back at him, a delicate blush colouring her cheeks.

“Twitterpated,” Mable mock whispered to Joe.

“Both of them,” Joe whispered back. “So!” he continued loudly. “I heard aliens landed in Fargo.”

“Really? I heard they were dinosaurs who crawled out of the earth!” Mable said.

“No, aliens. Big ugly green ones that… Huh. Say, this is serious, Mable.”

Carter barely registered what the two other teachers were saying. It wasn’t until someone cut between him and Lucy, leaning on the table with his back towards Carter, that he snapped out of his love-induced haze.

“Hi, Lucy,” Tony Davis greeted.

“Oh… hello Tony,” Lucy replied.

“Say, I was thinking of catching a movie tonight. Wanna join me?”

“No thank you. Andy and I are having dinner.”

“Andy? Who?” Tony straightened and turned. “Oh right. Sergeant Carter.” He clapped Carter roughly on the shoulder and then squeezed tightly. “Everyone’s favorite new chemistry teacher.”

“Actually, Andy was a Lieutenant,” Lucy said nonchalantly.

“Yeah, didn’t you hear about that crazy SNAFU with his rank?” Joe said. “Boy, I tell you, that army bureaucracy can never be accused of having any brains!”

“I can’t argue with that,” Tony said. He gave Carter’s shoulder another squeeze before letting go. Then he grabbed Carter’s coffee and moved around to sit on the other side of Lucy. “I tell you, there were times when I forgot who the real enemy was. But then I’d get in my plane and go up against a bunch of Japs and that set everything right again. Say, did I ever tell you about the time that I saw one of them Japs bail out and then get eaten by sharks?”

“Oh, Tony, please, how gruesome,” Mable said, appalled.

“I heard that one,” Joe said. “You really have some great stories, Tony.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’re actually fighting. You don’t get a lot of great stories from being a prisoner, huh, Andy?”

Carter shrugged. “Nothing that would interest you.” He checked his watch. “Say, we all better get to class.” He stood and gave Lucy a kiss. “See you for lunch?”

“Always.”

Carter grinned. If he was a smug sort of person, he would have shot Tony a triumphant glare, but, as it was, Carter didn’t pay him any attention. He took Lucy’s hand and gave it a small squeeze before heading out of the room.

Kids were already starting to fill the halls, talking loudly to each other. A few said ‘good morning’ to him as he passed.

As he approached his classroom, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. He tilted his head. It was supposed to be locked. Maybe the janitor had forgotten to close it back up. Deciding that was it, Carter pushed open the door.

Two boy, hovering over something at a table, immediately straightened and turned to face him, hiding whatever they were working on.

“Gentlemen,” Carter greeted, an unasked question in his tone.

“Er, hey, Mr. Carter,” Bobby Bucks said sheepishly. “You’re early.”

“No, but you are. What you got there?”

Bobby and his companion, Dale Stuart, exchanged a panicked look. “Errr, ummm…”

“You know you ought to be wearing safety gear before you muck around with anything,” Carter said nonchalantly. “First rule of experimenting.” He couldn’t really get mad at them for sneaking in to experiment. After all, he had done the same thing when he was in school. But, on the other hand, he had always been good at chemistry. Bobby and Dale? Not so much.

“So what are you cooking up?” Carter asked. He grabbed a couple of lab coats off from their hooks.

Again, the boys exchanged a look, but they seemed relieved when they turned their attention back to Carter. “Dale here read about stink bombs and we thought…”

Carter laughed. “You thought you’d have some fun. All right. Tell me about your process.” He handed over the lab coats. “Goggles. Gloves.”

Both boys reached into the table drawer to pull out the objects. “Well, we mixed a little bit of this and a little bit of that,” Dale said. He moved to show Carter a nearly full beaker. Carter’s heart immediately stopped. The contents were bubbling angrily.

“A little bit of this and that? This and that what?” He noticed several bottles on the table and quickly catalogued them. Whatever they were making was definitely not a stink bomb.

“Um… well I don’t remember exactly… just anything that smelled nasty!”

“But this is the last ingredient! It smells the worst!” Bobby said, grabbing a graduated cylinder of something.

“Okay, don’t—”

Before he could get his words out, Bobby poured the contents into the beaker. Almost instantly, the concoction spewed out of the beaker, flying everywhere.

They all cried out in surprise as the brew splattered on them. They shielded themselves the best they could from the onslaught. It fizzled and popped and then everything was still. Slowly, Carter straightened and looked around. Their experiment was all over.

“Are you boys all right?”

Both boys looked around. “Uh, yeah, I—”

“ARG! Mr. Carter, my hand is burning!” Dale cried.

“Sink. Now.” Carter could feel some burning on his skin, too. Together they rushed over to the sink to rinse off. Carter turned on the water and they crowded around, rinsing off their hands and arms. “Did it get in your eyes?” Bobby had poured before any of them had put on their equipment.

“No, I’m okay.”

“Me too.”

“Wait! It’s burning through my jacket!” Dale cried. “My back!”

“Take it off!” Carter tore off his own suit jacket and noticed a couple of holes. “Okay, showers. Now!” There was too much to rinse off in their relatively small sink. Not for the first time, Carter cursed the fact there wasn’t an emergency shower station in his lab.

Together they burst out of the room and towards the gymnasium. “Out of the way, out of the way,” Carter barked to the kids in the hall. Surprised by their mild-mannered teacher’s tone, kids quickly pressed themselves against their lockers, clearing a path for them.

They flew into the change room, interrupting the boys who were getting ready for their morning gym class. They rushed to the showers, turned them on and stood under them, rinsing off.

“Are we good?” Dale asked.

“Fifteen minutes,” Carter replied.

“Aw, but we’re going to be late for class!” Bobby whined. Carter shot him a dangerous look and he immediately stiffened and shut his mouth.

“Strip,” Carter ordered, feeling the chemical burn under his clothes.

“Slacks, too?” Dale asked.

“Yep. Everything.”

“This is humiliating,” Bobby said.

“This is what happens when you mix random chemicals together!” Carter snapped as unbuttoned his shirt. “For Pete sakes! For a stink bomb, all you need is ammonium sulfide, vinegar, and bicarbonate! I thought you said you read about it!”

“We did! We read about stink bombs and thought it would be a good idea to make one. But we didn’t read how.”

Carter covered his eyes with his hand and squeezed the sides of his face. “You two are going to be in detention for a long time,” he growled. He didn’t care if it took the rest of the school year, he would drill safety protocols into their heads until it sank in.

“We’re sorry, Mr. Carter,” Dale said as he peeled off his clothes.

“Me too,” Bobby mumbled, looking down in shame.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Carter said. “Let’s just focus on rinsing this stuff off.” They turned away from each other as they finished undressing. The bell rang, signalling the start to class. They remained under the water, rinsing off in silence.

“Hey, what’s going on in here, fellas?” Carter heard Tony bark from the main room. “You lot were supposed to be out on the court five minutes ago. Hey, who’s showering back there? Get on the— Holy shit!”

“Chemistry accident,” Carter explained, not bothering to open his eyes as the water rained down on him. “We’ll have to borrow some gym uniforms for the—”

“What the hell happened to you?” Tony asked.

“I told you, we had a—”

“Mr. Carter!” Bobby exclaimed. Carter looked over his shoulder and saw Bobby’s eyes wide with horror.

“What?”

“Geez! I’m gonna be sick,” Dale said.

“What?! Did you ingest any of that stuff? Sit down and let me—”

“Mr. Carter, your back!” Bobby said, pointing.

“Your… everything,” Dale said in disbelief.

It suddenly clicked.

“Oh.”

“Geez, Andy, what the hell?!” Tony said as he gestured to him. “Someone put you through a meat grinder?”

“I was… shot down… remember?” Carter said, knowing that excuse could never explain away even a portion of the scars that marred his body. He managed a small, nervous chuckle. “War is hell, right?”

Tony blinked, looking overwhelmed by the sight. Then he snorted. “Just get dressed. You’re going to give me nightmares.” And with that, the gym teacher turned on his heel and marched off.

Carter and the boys continued to rinse off in awkward silence. Carter tried to ignore the fact that they were zeroed in on his scars with wide, disbelieving eyes. He unconsciously rested his hand over his left shoulder where the worst of the scarring was.

“Fifteen minutes,” Carter announced, trying to keep his voice even. “Let’s dry off and we’ll see if your ‘stink bomb’ caused any permanent damage.”

Even if the chemicals had no lasting physical effects, he knew that the incident had permanently changed something that might not easily be repaired.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Carter looked ridiculous. The lab coat he wore clashed terribly with the t-shirt and red shorts– with their ‘Prairie Breezes’ emblem– that he had borrowed from the gym closet. But he felt terribly exposed without the coat on. He wanted to hide himself as much as he could.

Word of the morning incident had quickly spread throughout the school. Principal Hanson had already chewed him out and Carter had spent nearly an hour talking him down.

It was lucky neither he nor the boys had been seriously injured. After going over the chemicals the boys had used and pressing them on their exact method, Carter was surprised they had escaped relatively unscathed. He made a note to either change, or add locks to all his cupboards.

Carter padded down the hall in his bare feet— his shoes were near the radiator, drying. He had debated eating his lunch in his classroom, but he had plans to meet Lucy. She had already seen his ridiculous getup when he had reported to Hanson’s office and her only reaction was to ask if he was okay.

As he passed through the halls on his way to the teachers’ lounge, he heard kids whispering. Some even pointed at him as he passed. Carter frowned and shrank into his coat. He swore that the long, jagged scar on his shin shone out like a gaudy neon light, drawing every eye to it.

“Andy!”

Carter stopped and looked over his shoulder to find Lucy popping out of her office. He smiled brightly, but was suddenly hit with a wave of self-consciousness, and his smile faltered.

“Ready for lunch?” Lucy asked as she caught up to him. She looped her arm through his. Carter gave her an affirmative hum. “You sure you’re okay? You didn’t get hurt, right?”

“I’m okay,” he said, trying to smile. He glanced into her eyes before quickly averting his gaze.

“I’m glad.” She rested her head against his arm. Together, the entered the teachers’ lounge. “I made us chicken sandwiches!” she said as she let go of him and headed for the refrigerator.

“Sounds good. I’ll grab the coffee.” He went over to the pot and grabbed two mugs.

“Hey, Frankenstein.”

Carter stiffened.

“Hey, Joe,” Tony said, “did you hear about our friend Frankenstein?”

“What are you talking about?” Joe asked.

“You heard, didn’t you Lucy?” Tony said.

“Heard what? Who’s Frankenstein?” Lucy asked, sounding confused.

“Frankenstein, written by Mary Shelley in 1818,” Jill Cunningham, the English teacher, said from over her newspaper. “Many erroneously refer to the monster as Frankenstein, when it’s really the name of the scientist.”

“He’s also in some pretty good movies,” said Del Russell between mouthfuls of food.

“I know who Frankenstein is,” Lucy said, exasperated. “I just don’t know what Tony is talking about.”

“I’m talking about Sergeant Carter, here,” Tony said. “All stitched up like a horrible experiment gone wrong.”

Carter took a breath and closed his eyes. He couldn’t let Tony rile him up. That was exactly what that bully wanted. His hand shook as he replaced the coffee pot. He grabbed his and Lucy’s mugs and turned, trying to fix a smile on his lips.

“Tony here saw some of my scars,” Carter said, adopting a light tone. “I picked up a few when I was shot down.”

“A few?!” Tony exclaimed. “Are you kidding? It looks like you were eaten by a shark!”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” Mable said coolly.

“I swear I’m not,” Tony replied. “Seriously, you guys have got to see them to believe them! They’ll give you nightmares!”

“That’s enough,” Carter growled, finally losing his temper. He pulled himself up to his full height and took a breath. “Yes, I have a couple of scars. They’re not pretty. But I earned every one of them in war so we’re not going to talk about them. Understood?”

Tony cocked an eyebrow at the display, but then smirked. “Whatever you say, Frankie.”

“Come on, Tony,” Joe said warily. “Drop it.”

“I think it’s disgusting that you would make fun of him for his war wounds,” Mable scolded.

Tony just shrugged. “It’s not like I didn’t fight in the war either. But I’ve got medals to show for it.”

Del suddenly jumped up, shaking his sandwich at Tony. “Carter deserves more medals than all of us put together,” he said furiously. “Why if you only knew half the things he—”

“We’re done,” Carter said quickly, cutting Del off before his anger caused him to expose more than they were allowed. “Tony, Mable’s right: you’re being disgusting. And if you want any friends at the end of this conversation, I suggest you drop it. Now.”

Tony stared him down, but Carter stayed firm. Finally Tony shrugged. “Fine. Keep your shirt on. Literally.” The gym teacher grabbed something out of the fridge and sat at a table.

An awkward silence hung over the room. Finally, Carter set the mugs down on the table and pulled out a chair for Lucy. She handed him a chicken sandwich and they ate quietly.

Eventually, the bell rang and everyone packed up. As Carter stood, Lucy grabbed his hand. “See you tonight?”

“Ummm… Actually, you know, I have a lot to do at the house. Repairs, painting. All that. Rain check?”

Lucy frowned. “Andy…”

“I promise, another time,” Carter said, offering her a weak smile.

“Well… okay. Another time.” She stood and went to kiss him, but he turned his head and her lips landed on his cheek.

“I should get going,” Carter said. He retreated, not looking back as he left Lucy behind.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Wearing a towel around his waist with water dripping down from his hair, Carter let out a long sigh as he swiped his arm across the bathroom mirror. Two weeks of nightmares had left him feeling old and worn.

As the fog cleared from the mirror, it reflected back the source of his nightmares. A horrendous network of scars covered his torso, stark reminders of the dangerous work he’d done during the war.

Before Tony’s rude reminder, he had been able to shuffle his memories into the back of his mind. While he couldn’t ignore his scars entirely, they hadn’t bothered him in a long time as they simply became part of him. He had the occasional nightmares, but they had thankfully become fewer and further between as the war continued to move into the past.

But after being exposed, the ensuing terror in his students’ eyes, the quiet whispers, Tony’s jabs, and the gossip that had gone far beyond the walls of the school, all came together to remind him of past terrors. And despite his efforts to forget, he still remembered how he got every single scar. Daily nightmares had come back with a vengeance, making up for lost time. Each had been a swirling mess of jumbled memories and when he slept, the pain of each resurfaced and seemed terribly real.

Carter gently ran a finger over an ugly, firework-shaped scar on his right rib cage— an electrical burn courtesy of Herr Grendel in Bayonne. He knew if he could see his back, he’d find more souvenirs from his time in Bayonne and he shivered at the memories that came into his head.

A small scar on his hip spoke of an encounter with a German patrol and a knife while on a mission outside the wire. The jagged scar on his shin told of a piece of shrapnel from an explosion that went off a minute too early. A dozen of other scars each told their own stories.

The worst of them, though, centered on his left arm and shoulder, creeping onto his chest and extending to his back. A testament to Major Hochstetter’s crazed desperation to finally pin Papa Bear’s identity on Colonel Hogan. The upper part of his bicep, which had borne the brunt of the attack, dimpled where the muscle had been shredded and torn apart. Carter could hear his own screams ringing in his ears, above the growls and frenzied barks of the German shepherd.

Carter gripped the counter tightly as he hung his head, his breath coming out in gasps. He needed to stop thinking about it. He needed to forget it. It was in the past. He’d survived. He had survived it all. He had his whole life ahead of him; he couldn’t let himself disappear into the shadows of memories.

But that was exactly what he had been doing for the past two weeks. He had shied away from everything and everyone. He could no longer muster his usual enthusiasm in class. He ate alone in his classroom, locking the door to keep anyone from joining him. He came to school right before the bell rang, and left as soon as class was dismissed.

And Lucy?

Carter groaned as an ache settled into his heart. He had avoided Lucy like the plague. He couldn’t bear to be near her. She was so beautiful and wonderful, while he was broken and grotesque. She deserved better than him. But, coward that he was, he hadn’t been able to tell her that directly. Eventually, though, she’d get the hint.

He knew it was silly. Surely Lucy wouldn’t let a few— a lot of— scars bother her. She was too good a person for that. Steady, kind, tender. No, they wouldn’t bother her.

But what if they did? What if she saw them and was completely repulsed? Or, worse, what if she saw them and pitied him.

He should have told her before. Shown her before. He was in love with this woman and had seriously considered proposing more than once, despite their short courtship. And yet he hadn’t thought to warn her. What kind of a man hid that? What kind of a man trapped a woman into a marriage with damaged goods?

A faint knock from the front door filtered past his thoughts. Carter took a few deep breaths and looked up into the mirror. The scars stared back at him.

The knock repeated. Carter quickly dried himself off and threw on a bathrobe. He grabbed some slacks on his way through his room and pulled them on as he hopped down the hall to the front door. He glanced at the wall clock— 0800. Who would be knocking on his door this early on a Sunday morning?

Carter opened the door. Lucy stood on the porch, her hand raised to knock again.

Unsure of what to say to his unexpected visitor, Carter stood still, staring at her blankly.

“Hi, Andy… may I come in?”

Carter mechanically stepped aside to let her enter. She looked around. “It’s nice. The house, I mean.”

“How did you know where I live?” They always met in town or at her house since he lived so far outside Bismarck.

“My dad helped close the paperwork when you bought it, remember?” Lucy said. She slipped out of her overcoat and passed it to Carter, who took it wordlessly and hung it up in the closet. She made her way into the living room. “You don’t have much furniture,” she remarked, nodding to the lone armchair.

“Well, it is just me,” he said. In truth, he had plans to add to the furniture but there was still a lot of work to do before he reached that point. Right now he wanted to subtly impress upon her that he wanted to be alone.

Lucy turned on her heel to face him. She reached out to take his hands, but he quickly put them into the pockets of his robe. Lucy dropped her own hands to her side.

“Andy, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

Lucy scrunched her nose and glared at him as a hand went to her hip. “You know what I mean! You’ve been avoiding me! You’ve been avoiding everyone!”

“No, I… I’ve just been busy… I have…” He let his words trail off lamely as he gestured to the room. “Repairs… papers to mark…”

“Is this about Tony? You know he’s an idiot, right?”

“It’s not about him,” Carter replied, though he didn’t meet her eyes as he said it. “It’s just…”

“Andy, I miss you.” She stepped closer and reached out, grabbing the fuzzy sleeve of his robe. “I… I’ve been going crazy because two weeks is too long to be without you. Don’t you know I love you?”

At that, Carter looked up and blinked in surprise. The ‘L-word’ hadn’t yet entered their conversations.

“I—” His brain was reeling, preventing him from forming a coherent response. She loved him? Him? Carter nearly forgot everything that was bothering him. In that moment he wanted to howl at the moon; he wanted to wrestle a bear; he wanted to climb the highest mountain and shout to the world that the most wonderful woman he had ever known loved him!

Before he could collect his thoughts, Lucy bridged the gap between them and kissed him.

They had kissed before, but this was different. This was every good and exciting feeling in the world coming together and enveloping them, surrounding them with light and music and fireworks. Carter forgot everything as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so there wasn’t any space to keep them apart.

But then her hand went to his chest and slipped under his robe to his shoulder. He instantly pulled away.

“Stop.”

His brain was still floating from the kiss, but he had enough sense to reinstate some distance between them.

“Andy—” Lucy, her cheeks red, sounded breathless as a look of confusion marked her lovely features.

“Wait.” Carter held up a hand. “The thing is… I love you too.”

Lucy beamed, but then her smile faltered. “But…”

“But… But Tony was right… I’m…”

“Don’t.” Once again, Lucy moved closer and placed her hand gently on his lips.

Carter shook his head. “No, look, I’ve got to be honest. I… I can’t let you… we can’t… You need to see before… before anything.”

Lucy stepped back and nodded. “If you think so, then all right. But, Andy, I love you, and nothing is going to change that.”

Carter bit back a skeptical snort. “Okay, well… if you change your mind…”

“I won’t,” Lucy said firmly.

He desperately wanted to believe that. But he hesitated as he fumbled with untying the sash around his waist. “Actually… maybe this isn’t such a—”

Lucy put her hand on his. “It’s okay.”

“Right… Okay.” Carter took a deep breath and untied the sash. From the corner of his eye, he caught Lucy steeling herself. Then, like a band-aid, he pulled off his robe, exposing his scarred torso to the woman who held his future happiness in her hands.

Despite whatever efforts she had made to prepare herself, Lucy gasped and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

“Pretty awful, huh?” Carter said lightly, trying to ease the anxiety that had taken root in the pit of his stomach. He watched as Lucy’s eyes flitted across his body, soaking in every gruesome detail.

“Oh Andy,” Lucy breathed before turning away. She sucked in some air and then met his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Carter’s heart sank. Pity. It was worse than disgust.

“Stop it,” Lucy suddenly said, a harsh tone warping her voice into something alien. “Stop. It’s not pity. Don’t you dare think that.”

Carter blinked. “How did you—”

“Because it’s written all over your face. But it’s not pity. It’s… I’m just… I’m just sad. I’m sad you— wonderful, gentle, wonderful you— had to go through any of that.”

“That sounds like pity,” Carter said, trying hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“It’s not. It’s anger at whoever did this to you. It’s sadness you had to go through it. It’s… Oh, I don’t know what it is. What I do know is that I loved you before you showed me and I love you now. And I know I’m going to love you more and more with every second we spend together. Not because of any scars. But because you’re wonderful, and smart and fascinating, and… because you’re Andrew Carter, the man I adore.”

A small smile tugged at Carter’s lips. “You know what? I believe you.”

Lucy returned his smile. “You better!”

Carter’s small smile expanded into a grin. He grabbed her hand and pulled her close before wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her, drinking in her warmth and goodness as she kissed back. They broke apart and he rested his forehead on hers.

“You know, I, uh, have more furniture in the…” His cheeks burned and he cut off his scandalous suggestion before it fully left his lips. Golly, he had nearly sounded like Newkirk for a moment!

Lucy smirked before pulling him into another kiss.

And, well, if they made their way to the furniture in his bedroom, he was too much of a gentleman to ever admit it.

[thestobingirlie]

Somewhat tangentially related to that other ask but I wish fandom would just acknowledge that Eddie is also bully in his own right and just because he's antagonist towards jocks doesn't mean they deserve it by virtue of being jocks (no matter how much fandom likes to pretend it's warranted because Eddie is bullied himself- this is nowhere near canon and I'd go so far as to say it goes against canon if we're basing it off of Eddie's own behavior) and beyond all that; like the other asker and yourself said Eddie isn't just antagonizing jocks! He openly scorns band kids, geeks and pretty much everyone that isn't his specific brand of nerd which is not about academics so much as nerdy interest like fantasy and "non-conformist" music.

I put that in quotations because Eddie is actually probably the one that buys into the whole high school hierarchy spiel more than any other character on the show; by setting himself up as such an anti-establishment non conformist (all within the high school setting mind you we see nothing to make me believe his ideals go beyond that setting and it makes sense to me considering he's a Peter Pan archetype stuck in a state of arrested development- but I digress) because he sets himself up in such a way that his entire persona is built off of the abject refusal to adhere to societal expectations he's by and large helping to perpetuate them. He's cosplaying this attitude more than living by it because the societal norms still very much dictate how he views himself and how he approaches others.

Ironically Steve is the real deal in this regard by shucking what others expect from him and living his own life the way he wants it divorced from the excepted norms he used to let dictate him as late as mid s3 while changing the things he didn't like about himself behaviorally while still retaining his core personality and interests without the need to revise himself fully.

But because he doesn't have an alt style or interests that go against the mainstream, fandom refuses to see him in this light. He also doesn't let his new friends change his own interests nor expect them to change theirs for him.

I guess this rant makes me sound like I don't like Eddie but I do! I think fandom Eddie is entirely separate from canon Eddie however, to the point where his only recognizable qualities are his interests and aesthetic. Fandom really seems to martyr him in that regard and fully drink his kool-aid which is hilarious because it's largely performative with no substance lmao (even the "woe is me hunt the freak huh 🥺" falls flat narratively when a whole ass dead girl was found in his home).

I think the duplicitous nature of his personality and his hypocrisy (while still fully being a good guy! If you ignore the whole uh selling hard core drugs to a 17/18 year old girl who clearly never did them before thing) I think it's this dual nature and slightly shady actions while still having a caring heart and good intentions is what makes him a good character and we don't get to see that hardly ever with the way a laaaarge portion of fandom worships at his freak alter.

god, beautifully written. i agree with every single point. honestly, you anons just know how to word exactly what i’m feeling.

yes! eddie pretends like he rejects societal ideals, but he just reinforces them to the next generation. he’s built his life on being the freak, he plays it up to get attention, and to rile up his classmates. i honestly think eddie won’t know who he is post high school. which is, like you said, ironically the way the fandom tries to portray steve. but we see that he’s much more secure in himself and his life than eddie. does he have everything figured out? of course not, he’s 18!! but he knows a hell of a lot more than eddie.

but because he isn’t a nerdy outcast, the fandom would have us believe that he actually hates his life and who he is, and secretly doesn’t want to be a jock. fanon steve is honestly way more like canon eddie than i think the fandom wants to admit.

(and yeah, chrissy is found dead in his home. people aren’t just witch hunting eddie for no reason lmao)

all this is what makes canon eddie an actual interesting character!!! and the fact he (and steve) are entirely stripped of these characteristics is one of the reasons that i just can’t vibe with the fandoms rendition of steddie.