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xerotiny99 · 16 days

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Antiserum D // Loving Professor Jeong #1

Antiserum D (Loving Professor Jeong series #1) Professor/College au.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x (f) Reader [ft. Choi San & Song Mingi]

Warning: smut, prof!yunho, dom!yunho, sub!reader, student!reader, age gap, teasing and suggestive actions, size kink, big dick Yunho, dirty talk and pet names (master and pup), blowjob/throat fucking, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, edging, creampie and dacryphilia.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by the mentioned tags. Also note the age gap tag, here the reader is 21 and Yunho is 32, which makes it 11 years of gap.

Side Note: this series will contain 'hyung line' as the professors and the 'maknae line' as minor characters; except for Choi San and Song Mingi, these men are cheeky so look out for them. Again, as my other series, 'the reader' does have a name, i.e, Lee Sherri. Nicknames are bound to follow, so don't worry. I only write names in my oneshots because it's too annoying to write [y/n] everywhere and it ruins my flow of writing. Anyway, enjoy!

Gist: you had a rival in college, yes you did. It wasn't a student, rather the person you hold your grudges against is one of your professors. Now, you're in your senior year of bachelor's degree, running late for a morning class—knowing well he takes this class, what do you think the consequences would be?

Word Count: 12,164

'My dog died.'

No, you don't have a pet!

'My bus was late.'

You live on-campus.

'The coffee shop was crowded.'

You don't freaking have a cup in your hand!

'Umm, I overslept.'

Well, he doesn't need to know the truth.

He really doesn't need to know the truth to why you were running late to his morning class. As time would have it, you did oversleep; lethargic from last night's meaningless meandering from bar to bar, in search of your sober soul, you surely had forgotten about your morning class the next day. Weekends are supposed to be lax and diverting. They're your only shot at having a good time with your friends. You weren't going to let your fear of being reprimanded by your 'favourite' professor stop you from having the fun you deserved. The weekdays were long, tedious and dull with all the lectures and practical sessions to attend.

You're sprinting up the stairs to get to your department; the science building is supposedly long and encompasses all other departments falling into it. Your department (zoology), moreover, your class was situated on the second level of the building. Meeting with the long hallway on your way, which apparently was the physics department, you turn a corner and are merged with another long hallway leading to yours. The grotesque stench of formaldehyde hits your nose the moment you walk past the junior laboratories of your department; that's where they were trying to preserve biological specimens, the 'tingle-your-spine' kind. There are lecture halls and laboratories on one side of the long hallway, while the other side was an open space with concrete railings and pillars; this space opened into the botanical garden the botany department had been tending to, so it housed large trees, a decent number of shrubs and flowering plants, including a variety of cactus and other succulents.

Rushing in your steps, holding your tote bag close to you, your eyes scramble past the open space and the garden onto the walking street of your campus; it was borne with trees on both sides, and amidst the thicket of greenery you find the main building of psychology department. You almost heave out a laugh, reminiscing of the last night when your best friend (who studies psychology) was drunk out of his mind and had been making out with a lamppost. You pull yourself out of that daze, increasing the pace of your sprint to get to your laboratory.

First red flag of your day, the doors to your lab were open wide. Second, your supposedly 'favourite' professor was midway through an explanation about the experiment you were going to perform today. And third, you were technically thirty minutes late to the lab.

Quiet on your feet, you try to sneak inside; the structure of your lab was a little different, with sitting desks on one side of it, and workbenches on the other. In retrospect, this was your senior year's class where apparent lectures took place, and the workbenches were designated for less involved experiments. At the very front of your class/lab is a podium, a chalky black board, and a desk for professor. You glance at the front after realising all students had occupied the workbenches, you catch up on the glimpse of Professor Jeong carrying on with his explanation till his eyes meet yours.

"Miss Lee," he grumbles, amidst his explanation, "sneaking in—" mumbling he checks the time on his wristwatch, the sleeve of his coat riding up, "—a total of thirty minutes late. You better have a good reason."

He folds his arms over his chest, and stares down at you. While you halt midstep into the class, standing straighter you clear your throat and feel your mind stutter looking at him. Why did he have to dress so provocatively? And the outfit in concern was his beige coat and matching pants, a white long sleeved turtleneck underneath; you didn't quite like how your heart was palpitating watching him, keenly grazing your thirst-filled eyes across his face, noticing the shine on his black rimmed glasses and the plumpness of his pink lips.

"Miss Lee?" he repeats, only to get you squeaking, "yes, professor—uh yeah, I was late because my alarm did not go off in the morning..."

He hums in contemplation, eyes narrowing on you before he sighs and shakes his head, "occupy one of the workbenches and do not touch anything before I tell you to."

You nod, pressing your lips tighter to prevent any sound from escaping your throat; you were certainly anxious and embarrassed to be late, but more precisely you were humiliated in front of your class for coming up with such a lame excuse. Sighing, you stuff your tote bag in your locker at the back. You quickly slip on a lab coat over your outfit, bubbling with disappointment as it was hiding your nubile outfit. Knowing you were running late, you still made extreme efforts to dress yourself up—the reason was quite overt, because you wanted to dress up for yourself—you wore a white blouse under a pastel blue sweater vest and paired it with grey skirt which rode up till your mid-thighs. The lacy thigh-high socks were just an added accessory to make yourself seem cute considering you also had a blue ribbon in your hair, holding it in a high ponytail.

The only workbench unoccupied is the one situated at the very end and far from either the professor's desk at the back near the lockers and the podium from where Professor Jeong was reading every movement of yours. When you get to your designated place, you glance at the workstation to take note of the apparatus, before glancing next to you, finding the most obnoxious person you could. Choi San, Choi freaking San was offering you a guileful smile, one whose intentions did not appear to be right, or even ethical.

Bastard.

"So, Miss Lee is late because she couldn't hear her alarm go off? Pathetic," he rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, his own lab coat creasing by the elbows with his plaid shirt peeking from beneath. "I don't believe you—oh well, but I wonder what your favourite professor would think about you when he knows you were getting pissed drunk last night with your friends."

You weigh his words in your mind for a second before furling back a reply. "Aww, Sannie. If you're so desperate to get in my inner circle, just say so. I didn't know you would be so jealous of us..."

San's smile turns into a curve of amusement, "jealous of you? Me? Jealous?" he scoffs, "darling, you're dreaming. If I wanted to be in your inner circle, I would've just slept my way through it."

"Really now?" you retort, smiling softly, "slept with whom?"

"An easy prey to seduce would be you—" he clicks his tongue, "—if you can be so impressed by that..." he nods his head toward Professor Jeong, "...then I believe you'd be swept off your feet if I genuinely try to."

"You put yourself on such a high pedestal, Sannie," you muse, shaking your head lightly, "do you really think my standards are set so low to be dazzled by you?"

"Oh, only time would tell, Miss Lee," he rolls his eyes, keeping his sly smile on. "Maybe, you would get infatuated with me or give into your temptations."

"Ahh, such a dedicated wishful thinker you are," you snide, heaving a low chuckle, "the only thing I'm tempted to do is throw a chair in your fucking face—"

"Miss Lee!" you flinch in your skin, body spasming to the deep and coarse voice of the professor. Hesitant in yourself, you peek up to face him, finding him glaring at you without a twitch on his face. "You certainly are not going to pay attention to my class, then why waste my time? You're free to leave. I don't hold my students captive; the ones passionate about learning find a way to attend my class in any way they could."

Your cheeks heat up, turning a shade of faint cherry red; embarrassment licks your spine and head lowers itself, you won't forget this moment ever. San is busy staring at you, feeling a little guilty but of course he won't let you know that. Shortly after, you glance back at the professor, noticing him staring at you with his lips in a scowl and his eyes piercing through you. That alone, that look alone was enough for you to quiver in your shoes; his persona had always been the intimidating kind, the kind who is self-possessed and doesn't really bother himself with the rest of the world.

Professor Jeong wasn't fazed by anything, not even by the number of female students crushing on him in your department, rather in your class alone. He didn't acknowledge their stupefyingly sexual or overly sensual approaches, turned them down if he thought they were invading his privacy. You took that as a challenge; maybe, maybe not. Your rivalry with him wasn't because he was unapproachable or a forbidden fruit to taste, it was because he always found a way to rattle your senses and make you the fool.

You remember it as clear as a day, at the beginning of your senior year, the very first semester—attending his class on genetics, you were simply taken off by him and his way of speaking. His personality was homely, strict where it should be, however. Amidst his lecture, he caught you talking and joking around with your bench-mate and questioned you about the topic he was teaching.

"If you can yap useless things, then why don't you enlighten me with the working of gel electrophoresis, hmmm...?"

It stung. But not more than him adding, "I'm even surprised you could answer. Maybe you should focus yourself more on your academics than other things."

Other things? You realised he was making comments on your appearance, the way you were dressed, the way you had streaks of gold stitched in your hair, the way you always had playful make up on—he judged you based on that, and thus the profound feud between him and you began. After that, you would intentionally skip his classes and not make an effort to attend them; even the practical sessions, except for the mandatory ones where you would bite your tongue and listen to him demeaning your entire existence for not setting the microscope right.

"Alright, now that I'm done explaining the principle and bits of the procedure, you may follow the same with your partners; if you're muddled with any concern then heed my name." He announces out loud, stepping down from the podium.

You raise your head, further listening to his footsteps dither across the floor to the back of where another table had been put up for teachers' comfort. Though, that's what you thought. The mellow sound of his boots takes an unassuming turn to your row of workbenches, taking you off guard. You're trying to find the meaning behind his detour. Also, you had been oblivious from the start that this practical is supposed to be performed in pairs. And you had no one. Because you were late. Even the slow-witted and stolid transfer student, Reagan Keith had a partner; and her partner was San himself, something you definitely did not see coming.

"Miss Lee," Professor Jeong clears his throat, standing next to you, "I suppose you do not have a partner because of your tardiness, and I happened to pair all my students prior to you, which leaves me no choice but to perform this particular experiment with you. So now, take a brief look at the blackboard and what I've etched on it, try to understand it. Once done, we can surely proceed."

You nod, contemplating, biting your cheek, unable to comprehend the proximity between you two. The dense musk of his scent is wafting all your senses—the redolent scent of vanilla and cinnamon is a deadly concoction to drive you wild. His warmth is superficial, yet the kind which melts your mind with stupefying possibilities, just how he could be—you need to keep your thoughts clean and chaste. Still, you suppress your mind to a corner and peek at the blackboard, studying his neat hand etched on it. The title gave you the rough idea of what you're supposed to do.

'Determination of blood groups.'

Ahh, the title itself foretells the coming inevitable mishap is going to involve blood and blood lancets; you aren't so fond of the needles—no, it wasn't a phobia, you weren't fond of pricking yourself with the help of those lancets. The blue rounded capsules which compassed a sterile needle underneath was beyond torturous to you.

You heave out a deep breath, understanding the further procedure he had inscribed on the blackboard. Familiar with few terms, such as the usage of antiserums, and principle behind the entire procedure, you were relieved. Way more than relieved to know this wasn't something out of your expertise. The nurturing thought of you actually explaining it to him however was too heavy to bear. You clear your throat, fumbling in your words as you dart your eyes anywhere else but at him.

"Yes, Miss Lee, are you done gandering at the procedure?" he gawks, bewildered as if and continues, "now, please enlighten me with the steps so as to we can proceed with the experiment."

"We—we are determining the blood—blood groups," you stutter, not knowing where that came from, you turn your attention onto him, stifling a gasp upon noticing him leaning close to you.

"Go on, Miss Lee," he prompts you with a soft nudge of his head. "I'm sure having to palaver about for the entire day, you could at least narrate the steps to me. All I need is your guidance."

He's playing you again.

"Alright, I will—" your breath hitches in your throat—you witness him effortlessly shrug his coat off, revealing nothing of his skin but the long-sleeved turtleneck he wore under.

"Hmhm, yes...?" he instigates, putting his coat off to a side while he rolls the sleeves of shirt over till his elbows. "What's the first step?"

"Sterilisation." you mutter under your breath.

"Sterilisation of what, Miss Lee?" he teases, keeping a straight; his pushes his glasses further up his nose, which had apparently slipped off a bit.

"Sterilisation of the subject area."

"Okay, tell me which area is most suitable for this test?"

You nod, swallowing thickly as your eyes never leave his. "The tip of the middle finger."

You weren't going to waver, not even when his soft brown eyes were speaking the unbearable at the moment; how can he do that? How can he momentarily torment you with a sly curve of his lips or by the detrimental facade of his eyes?

"And why is that?"

"Tendon sheath—uh, the middle finger has tendon sheath which only limits it to the fingers; as for the thumb and pinky finger, the sheath extends a little further to radial bursae and ulnar bursae—so in case any infection occurs it'll be restricted to the middle finger unlike the thumb or pinky which can lead to the heart." You try your best to explain, forgetting how to breathe in the process.

"You know your stuff," he murmurs, his voice low and cold, "do you see any sterilisation pads on your table?"

Looking around your desk, almost immediately, your eyes lurk on a beaker full of 70% ethanol and cotton swabs. You bring the beaker close to you and reach out for the forceps placed next to it; extending the beaker toward to him, you clear your throat, hoping he'd get on the cue.

"Miss Lee, I'd very much appreciate if you were to perform all the steps involving this practical."

"Right—okay, so..."

You drag your words into a whisper, holding the palm of his hand in yours, while other picks out a cotton swab with the forceps. The piece of cotton rolls to and fro on his skin, rubbing gently. Hearing him wince at the cooling sensation of ethanol against his skin, you stifle a chuckle and let out a sigh; once you were done with sterilising, you reach out for the blood lancets. Picking out one, you rip the cap off to reveal a sterling needle shining with a sharp point.

"Have you done this before, Miss Lee?" he questions as he watches you hesitate with the blood lancet. "Pricking yourself is quite different from pricking others, isn't it?"

You nod because you knew how different it was. In actuality, you're scared. You always were terrified to prick yourself with the needle whenever you were required to and it was mostly during your practical classes involving forensics. The high possibility of piercing your professor's skin, past the point till where it's necessary, was an untold fear you couldn't overcome. But, as you glance up at his docile face adorning an encouraging smile, in addition to the haughty glint in his eyes, you are much more prepared for the consequences.

"I am absolutely terrified when it comes to pricking myself—what if I..." your glance at his hand, then dart your eyes to his, feeling a breath hitch in your throat.

"You won't hurt me," he reassures you, later on compelling you with his words, "any day now, Miss Lee."

The racking nerve in your head forces you to take a deep breath and you're hauling the pointed tip of the lancet close to his finger. You know it takes one sudden nick to break the skin, and you also know you're supposed to be careful and swift with it. Hesitation breaks your conscience, you're still in two minds, still wondering if this was a good idea. Regardless of your abrupt cold feet, you let the lancet pierce through his skin, drawing out a ceaseless stream of blood; Professor Jeong is heedful of his bleeding finger and proceeds to make three blobs of blood on a microscope slide.

He puts the slide back, the glass clinks against the table but it melts into your thoughts—you were ogling him. You notice his veiny hand trembling softly to the unbridled tremors from the cut on his finger, it was attractive. You wouldn't mind admitting it, he has great hands—and sadly, you had a fetish. Trapping your lower lip between your teeth, you admire the little things about him; the proximity faltered to nothing, gave away how spotless his skin was, how sublimely luscious his lips were, and how the tiny specks of green in his eyes were far too evident in the sea of umber. Though, his hands were all you could think about; his porcelain skin, the bulging veins wrapped around his knuckles while they branched further down his hand—uff.

"Miss Lee?" he calls out, snapping his other finger, "please pass me a cotton swab, I need to clean myself."

You were brought back to the reality, seamless kind, a little vapid where you were impelled to keep a safe and healthy 'professor-student' relationship with him.

Hold up!

Where in the world did that come from?

The thought of having something more than 'professor-student' relationship with him.

You and him?

That's a little...

Far-fetched.

Unless...

There was...

There was a way to vex him.

You look back to all the times he's devalued your existence during his classes. The haughty remarks which rolled off his tongue with so much ease to belittle your short-lived efforts in any of his class, or perhaps, in any of the activities your department would plan. A spark in your mind strikes you in a way you couldn't quite explain, but you know you're finding yourself tighten your grip on his wrist. It's oddly satisfying, it's benign in your mind—though, the tiny bulb of tease was going on and off every second you spent staring at him.

There goes nothing.

Without hesitating you bring his hand close to your mouth, your tongue darts out the minute his bleeding finger finds its way in your sight, and you lick up a stripe to clean the blood off his finger. You hear him gasp, a sharp intake of breath which already told you he was bothered by your actions. Continuing to the rhythm of your heart, you wrap your lips around the tip of his finger and give it a soft suckle. Soon, a metallic copper taste slides on your tongue. Such an eerie sight to witness, by your professors and the others too. Especially the spawn of devil who was too busy charming the ditzy transfer student off her feet; if San catches you being this 'type' of friendly with the professor you 'slightly' resent then you probably could never show your face to anyone on the surface of earth. Luckily, San wasn't even sparing a glance at you.

"Miss—Miss Lee?" his voice breaks when he calls out to you again, prompting you to loosen your grip on his hand before you're letting it drop to his side.

"You were supposed to add antiserums to the slide, drop by drop. Now..." he takes a deep breath, noticing your glossy eyes and your plump lips parted; he's definitely resisting his urges. "The blood on the slide is almost..." He glances down at the table. "...it's almost dry. Miss Lee—" he leans in close to your ear, a coarse whisper sending a shiver down your spine, "—I'd like to see you after class."

"Maybe you can justify your actions then."

He leans back and takes a short gander around. Curling his lips up in a riveting smile, he nudges you with a nod. "Add the antiserums now, Miss Lee. All the others have finished performing the experiment."

You're out of your daze, rummaging your eyes around to find many of your classmates are done with their work and had gone to the other side of the lab, where the desks were.

"I'll be checking your practical sheets before you leave, so make sure you complete them all now." he announces out loud in the class, earning muffled groans from his students. "And no excuses."

"You too, Miss Lee," he turns to you, "now, if you will, you have to tell me my blood group. So, go on."

Again, pulling yourself out of the stupor, you nod profusely and proceed to the next step before the blood on your slide is completely dry. You add a drop of each antiserum on the three droplets of blood; waiting for a second, you watch the drop with antisera D and antisera A added begin to clot. To your conclusion, Professor Jeong's blood group is A+ve. All while you did the experiment, his eyes were fixed on you, fixated on your quivering hands and lips every time you tried to do something. In some instances of his mind, he was admiring you and your dedication, and how badly he had rocked your boat into capsizing.

"Good," he muses, his words turning bitter soon, "you sure can do a few things right. Well, all that's left to do is—" he grunts softly as he pulls the sleeves of his shirt back down, while he shrugs on his coat, "—cleaning and writing. Chop chop, Miss Lee. And do not forget you have to wait after class."

With those spine-chilling words he leaves you stranded to your spot; unfortunately, this time San had overheard your conversation. He slides next to you, eyeing your workstation before glancing over at you.

His lips push themselves out into a pout, and he grumbles, "fucked up something?"

"None of your business," you grit your teeth, "get away before I chop your balls off."

"Oh, I'm shivering," he deadpans, nudging his elbow with your ribs, "come on, Lee. Tell me. What did you do for him to ask you to wait after class? We both know he's never done it—in fact he hates it when someone waits after class to 'talk' to him." he emphasises with finger quotes, rolling his eyes at you. "You fucked up big time then."

You heave out a long sigh, "I—just, shut up, San. You're the most annoying person in my life."

Grumbling, you glance at Professor Jeong, he was sitting on his desk at the back of the class, by the lockers. His stare was on you. It was on you from the moment he sat down. And even though you may not know what he was thinking, or wondering about, the glimpse of him having his teeth scratching on his lower lip was enough to let you know what exactly he intended on doing with you.

"Don't drag it out on me," he mumbles, his pout still intact on his face, "although, you're denying the truth, which means you two had an anomalous interaction..."

As he trails off, you roll your eyes at him. Finding the courage to break your eye contact with Professor Jeong, you glare at San and bite your lip. "Yeah, he made me wait after class. It's pertaining to me being late. Now off you go, make yourself useful elsewhere. Maybe, help Reagan find the remaining of her skirt, pretty sure she left it back at her dorms."

San muses for a second before leaning over to stare at the said girl's skirt; she was standing by the lockers chattering with someone. His face twitches smugly, his brows creasing as he checks her out.

"Oh, no no! That does seem more important than dealing with you, Lee." he smirks, biting his lower lip, "see you around, try not to get too infatuated with your favourite professor."

Sauntering away from you, he loses his lab coat and then engages himself with Reagan. You project your frustrations into a sigh and begin cleaning your workbench before heading to the lockers to retrieve your bag and other items. Walking past the professor was a challenge in itself because you were too fazed in your mind by everything he did. Though, you could really say you were fuddled over his decision to make you wait after class. Anyone could tell you exactly how much he despised his students waiting after class, 'cause most of the times it would be the absurd number of female students trying to confess their feelings for him. You could sympathise with him, understand where he was coming from because you would find yourself in a similar situation; you were well sought to in your department, endless confessions, profuse gestures of affection, what not.

Regardless, you realised what you wanted in a man. It was the professor himself.

"Miss Lee, I need your practical journal completed." he speaks up as you're walking past his desk with your tote bag on your shoulder and your lab coat neatly folded in your hands. "You know what, I'll go through it after class. Till then, get your write-ups done."

Offering you a redolent smile, he tears his eyes off you. You swallow thickly, knowing well how ineptly stuck you were with him, after class too. And one more fact, your practical journal was incomplete—blank at the most, which was a catastrophe in the waiting. As the fear creeps up your spine, you bite your cheek and stumble onto an empty desk, settling yourself down to catch a breath.

Time passes in a haste, without bounds, and soon the moment you dreaded arrives with a tinkering bell on it. The class is empty, except for you and Professor Jeong. You could listen to him breathe, placidly whistle out a grumble a few times since he was busy with something you didn't feel the need to pay attention to. The clock on the wall ticks again and you're gathering your stuff before 'sneaking' out of the class. If his attention is solely saturated over something useless to you, then he probably won't even notice you gone.

At least that's what you thought.

"Miss Lee, I must remind you of our little parley where I asked you to wait after class." He doesn't even peek from the file he was reading, and continues, "don't think I can't see you sneaking away."

You stop in your steps, right in front of the open door with a few students lurking behind in the corridor. Stifling a groan, you roll your eyes and turn around on your feet. The man is sat poised in his chair, his lips curved in a smirk as he's staring right through you. Your heart skips a beat, yes too cliche, but you felt its arrhythmic vibrations ring your ears.

"Are there any students loitering in the corridor?" he questions and you nod to it, pressing your lips together. "Wait for them to leave and then lock the doors."

Why?

Lock the doors?

Why lock the doors?

Now your heart was pounding in that bony little cage of yours. Sooner or later, you would find it either in your throat or your guts that is if he continues to stare at you with the intensity of sun. Quite lost in the trance of his melancholic yet concupiscent eyes, you start nibbling on your lower lip, wanting to squeeze your thighs together to rid yourself of the tension you felt in your cunt. The chatters start dithering outside, ascending to the wind of nothing and it brings peace to your mind; not that it wasn't peaceful before, but now, it's just you and him caught in a void of infatuation.

"Do not take my intentions in the wrong way, Miss Lee. I am not so fond of disturbances during one-on-one student session..." he explains, going back to reading his file. Though, after a while he clears his throat and prompts you, "any moment now, Miss Lee."

"Yea—yeah," you stutter, sensing your throat close up.

Taking a step forward you close the latches on the door. The exhilaration of you being alone with him is sort of distorted in your head when you make your way towards his desk. What does he have in his mind? What does he want from you? Is this one of his many ways to make you feel small and little? Like all the times he does when you're attending his classes or so.

The look in his eyes has a spark of joy, just humming across the field of brown containing his pep. Those same eyes follow you around, till you're in front of him; his face shows no emotion, except for that straight line of his lips.

"Would you need an invitation, Miss Lee? Your binder, please." he asks, peeking up at through his long lashes and the black rimmed glasses. The glare on them makes it hard for you to read his eyes this time.

You clear your throat, and fumble with your bag to take the thick binder out. Pages furled out of it, a few flying off to fall on the ground, while a few remained stuck in amidst the others; you could tell Professor Jeong wasn't too happy with the condition of your binder. To be fair, this binder was your repository for all performed experiments so far. Nonetheless, your binder was...incomplete. Biting your lip, you place your binder on the table in front of him.

He eyes it for a moment before grabbing it in his hands and flipping the pages. You couldn't resist holding him on a high regard; his sleek fingers pinching the edges of the pages, turning them, eyes rummaging along the lines, and his parted lips which could tell he was contemplating.

"I certainly did not expect this from you, Miss Lee." he clicks his tongue, "now that I see it for myself, I can't help but agree with my initial remark about you. I would suggest you focus more on your academics rather than wasting your time with your friends and ambling through your life."

He sighs in defeat, mostly disappointment and slides your binder towards you across the table. Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, he takes a deep breath and turns his head to you, his face expressing nothing at all.

"Life's not all about strolling through one club then to another. And while you do that, I can't sit back and watch you ruin your potential, Miss Lee," he sucks his teeth, as he continues to berate you with his words, "you're in the running for most proficient student in our department, alongside Mr. Choi. Now, would you be delighted to bear a consequence where he holds the trophy and not you? All because of what...? Some fiddling people you call your friends whose only job is to drag you out to buzzing clubs and what not."

Listening to him hound your existence, your heart suddenly weighs down in your chest, it grows heavy till it touches your gut. Oh no, you were letting it affect your state of mind. On the verge of tears, you look away from him and fixate your blurry vision on the floor; it was overbearing to hold his eyes, to wallow in the disappointment he held in them. Moreover, you didn't want him to see you cry, or shed a tear for that matter because you know you were close. Very close.

You sniffle softly, lowering your head furthermore to avoid to his gaze.

"Miss Lee?"

Silence.

You don't care for the concern his voice shows and continue to toil yourself on the contrasting hue of morning sun and the grey tiles. Blurry vision captures the indefinite shadows of lockers, some bookshelves—the sun was crawling overhead, witnessing your derision with your professor. You don't try to pay him any mind, not that you could even if you wanted to. There's a possible reason to why you don't want to, maybe the answer lies in your uncertain infatuation with him, or maybe it does prove your outlandish feelings for him. Which one of it was genuine?

A small moment passes between you two, roiling in tranquil haze before he clicks his tongue and drawls on a breath. "And to speak on your furtive behaviour—"

"Why do you hate me?"

A beat of serenity yanks his attention.

"What do you mean, Miss Lee?"

"I asked, why do you hate me so much?"

You glance up at him, preparing your unfazed mind for his reaction to your reddened cheeks and nose, and the obvious streaks of tears down your cheeks. The muscles on his face twitch even if it was indiscernible to the moment, you study him; he reveals a speck of pity in his eyes, so pathetic for you to think he'd pity you.

"Sherri?"

His lips quiver so delicately, calling out your name in a sleek yet coarse voice. It was the first time he'd ever called out your name, enunciated each syllable in his utmost trepidation as if he really cared for you. That alone was enough to cause a havoc in your heart, dwindling it further down to your...maybe it was the way he spoke your name out, but you were definitely feeling a spark strike in your pussy.

"I do not despise you, Sherri," he softly murmurs, looking away from you for a long minute before trailing his pitiful eyes back on you. "If my actions have made you—"

"—you always belittle me, humiliate me in front of the class and pretend to act as if you do it all because you care." you ramble, "you don't care about my feelings! All you can think is how to make me fall from my grace. Isn't it?"

You shake your head and bring your hands up to wipe your tears off, which had uncontrollably gushed out of your eyes while you had your meltdown. Your tote bag falls onto the floor with a soft thud, and you pay no mind to it. The hyperventilation soon kicks in, suffocating your lungs with a want to break free from your chest, and your stomach littered with unwanted butterflies fluttering along. More tears slide out of your eyes, and you lose your capability to see clearer.

The dainty streaks of torment on your cheeks, your tears, and your flushed face was a huge turn on for him; he could not probably free himself from his fetish, but his philia for tears or anything remotely close to it, always excited his cock. He shifts in his seat, spreading his legs apart under the desk to free himself from the strain in his pants. Oh how badly he had been aroused, by just watching you cry.

"Sherri, you're mistaking my concern for bullying; fuck! Why would I want to torment or humiliate you in front of the class?" he questions, such dainty voice breaking your heart and making you feel pathetic to sob in front of him.

"Come here."

He lures you in with his soft voice, and a frail tug of his lips; his smile had already proved to be devastating to you and even the slightest of it can make you, his puppet. Without realising it, you're taking short strides around the table to be by his side. He has his hand extended in front of you, something you didn't quite understand until you hold it in hesitation, and he pulls you down on his lap.

You gasp, and then yelp when you land on his lap; at first you find yourself uncomfortable in his embrace but giving it a little time, you relax and settle down, still with a bit of unease. His arms wrap themselves around your waist and he leans close to rest his chin on your shoulder as you sit sideways on his lap. Ambiguous swirls of darkness cover his eyes, and your breath hitches trying to unravel his true intentions. Instead, you were starting to get comfortable with him.

"I do not resent you for who you are, Sherri," he begins with a whispery breath, rubbing your back as he does. "I resent myself for being so helplessly bound under your spell."

Your lips part open, your chest heaves up and down erratically to constrain your wildly pounding heart. Oh, you were gone, you most definitely were.

"Projecting my bitter disposition on you was a mechanism I sought to cope my untamed desire—the ugly desire to taste this forbidden fruit." Mumbling, he turns his head and traces his lips along your neck, kissing and sucking. "Holy fuck, this body of yours...those lips, you don't know how much I crave them."

His hands tighten around your waist, and you gasp for air, "Professor Jeong, this isn't ethical. You're violating the university policy...ah!"

He bites down on your neck, grabbing enough flesh in between his teeth to suck on it. That's going to leave a pretty purple bruise behind, all in its glory, on your neck—so fucking attractive to you. Pressing down on a moan, you drag your hands to his shoulders, hoping to shove him off to disturb his grip on you. Though you thought. It wasn't easy to make him budge, he wasn't letting you go, and you were gradually falling into that realisation.

"I could lose my job," he whispers, chuckling softly, "I can fucking lose my job if I engage with you, if I make my vile thoughts a reality but I can't control myself any longer, I need you, I need to ruin you—I know you feel the same way about me. Don't you, Sherri?" he nibbles on your earlobe, his hot breath fanning your ear. "Aren't your intentions the same as me, huh?"

"No." you mumble.

"No?"

You shake your head.

He doesn't believe you.

"Sherri, oh you beautiful liar," he sighs, his lips now curling into a smirk, "didn't you think of something else when you were sucking my finger off, hmm?"

You pout, not wanting to answer or have him the satisfaction of being right; instead, you start shuffling on his lap to get out of his hold. Squirming in his lap, you press your butt against his crotch, accidentally touching his hardened cock. It continues to poke your ass, and his fingers dig into your skin when his hold tightens on your waist. You were making it worse, it was visible on his face in the form of quivering lips and shut eyes.

"Don't move...!" he warns you, pressing your lower body against his lap, keeping you fixed in one place. "You'll make me...fuck. You do this on purpose, don't you?"

You stop moving—well you had no choice but to when his brute strength was holding you down against him. "I don't. I haven't done anything on purpose."

Lying is so easy. But him believing it has to be easy too. Though at this point you knew you were teasing him.

"Sherri, don't lie." He peels his eyes open and takes a sharp breath in, "get on your knees."

You gulp. Knees? He wants you on your knees...? That's...really fucking hot.

Eagerly, you crawl out of his lap as he gives you the chance to, keeping his hands to his side. He repositions his chair in a way to face you, as you're kneeling down in front of him, by the side of the table. There's not much distance between you, and the dithered proximity makes your heart palpitate with anticipation.

What was he going to do?

Your mind raced with the possibilities. Was he going to shove his 'obvious' boner down your throat? Was he going to make you ride him? What was his hauntingly beautiful mind thinking about?

"An obedient teacher's pet, how adorable," he coos, stroking his hand over your head as if to pet you.

"Professor..."

"Shush...!" he leans over, closely watching you with his fervent eyes. Out of nowhere the warmth of his thumb engulfs of your cheek. "Not a sound."

Brushing his thumb across, he collects a drop of your tear and brings it close to his mouth. He wraps his lips around his thumb and gives it a good suck; his eyes intently fixed on yours, delineating his intentions. You nod your head and watch him straighten his back to relax against the chair. His eyes glance over at the door for a minor second before he fixes them back on you; with a lilting smirk, he grabs the wooden pointer stick from his table and slaps its tip on the palm of his other hand. The same hand rubs along the length of it until his forefinger traces the tip before holding it in his one hand.

You couldn't help but gulp again, feeling aroused by his hand, and the way it was pumping the stick to and fro. Lowering yourself on your calves, you try to squeeze your thighs together. You wanted to ease your muscles, wanted to rid yourself of the tightness in your cunt because you were beyond wet for him.

"Hands behind your back," he commands, and you oblige without hesitation. "I asked you to be on your knees for me..." he softly mutters, tapping the stick twice on the floor to get you back on your knees.

You do that too; completely unaware of his next move. He drags the stick from the ground to you, to the hem of your skirt and lifts it up—exposing your ruined panties to him.

"Tsk, wet already?" he heaves out a breath, "do I really affect you that much?"

"Yes," you swallow and mumble, "you do."

"Hmm," he muses, humming his words along later, "that makes me want you even more."

With his other hand he takes his glasses off and flings them on the table. He pushes the stick further up till your waist to completely expose your dripping wet panties and your cunt; he licks his lips at the sight, his instincts running wild in his mind. Your hands were perfectly slotted in the small of your back, tightly wound together to appease the tension.

"Ah..fuck," you groan when you feel the wooden stick rub your cunt; he had angled it in such a way that it kept your skirt from falling down and it also gave him enough access to drag it along your slit. "Please, professor, I want you."

Listening to you mewl, his smirk widens, and he slurs his words, "now you want me, Miss Lee? Un-fucking-believable."

He picks up his pace, letting the stick rub itself perfectly against your slit; your cunt clenches around nothing, aching to have something in between, something to fill you up. You writhe in desperation, shifting your weight from one leg to another. Unable to contain yourself, you start grinding yourself against the stick, upon noticing it, he halts his movements and watches you with amusement. Casing his lips into a pout, he traces his forefinger on his lower lip; he's contemplating, mirthfully watching you pleasure yourself on the stick. You bring both of your hands to the front, holding the stick to stabilise it before you increase the pace of hips grinding down.

"Aww, is my little brat getting excited?" he scoffs, shaking his head lightly.

You press your lips together and nod your head, closing your eyes shut to the budding pleasure crawling up your body. Second by second, your sanity shrinks to nothing, making you loosen your grip on the stick. From the corner of your half-lidded eye, you watch him offer you a conceited smile, clearing his intentions out when he pulls the stick from between your legs and slides it up to your chin. Tapping its tip twice to your chin, he gets your attention on him with your eyes wide in anticipation.

He spreads his legs wider in front of you, putting his cock on a glorious display as it tightens in his pants; the outline of his cock figuratively makes you swallow a thick gulp of air. Keeping your head high with the stick, he uses his other hand to palm his crotch, gently wrapping his fingers around his cock to give it a few half-hearted pumps through his pants. With a nudge of his head, he drops the stick to a side and gestures you to come close. Biting your tongue, you crawl towards him, your heart in your throat now. Maybe it was the anticipation, the eagerness to see him bare and under the griming influence of your pleasure, but you were slightly alarmed to find yourself slotted in between his legs.

"Let's get my brat what she wants," he whispers further shifting comfortably in his hair. "Such hungry eyes gawking at the sight of my cock," he grabs your jaw lightly and strokes his thumb under your chin. He tuts, "I get these looks a lot but there's something about you— something about the way you're drooling over my cock."

You let your teeth sink deep in your lower lip, while your lips twitch into a soft smile of amusement. "Am I turning you on, professor?"

You release your lip from your teeth's grip, and he watches it wobble in a daze while you lean close and place your hands on either of his thighs. Rubbing circles with your fingertips on his thighs, you take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

"If that wasn't the case you wouldn't be here, Miss Lee. Kneeling between my legs, ready to take my cock in your mouth, hmm?" he suggestively murmurs, dragging his thumb to your lips till he forces it in your mouth. "Now, open wide."

Using his other hand, he fumbles with the buckle of his belt. While he does manage to get it undone, you decide to suck on his thumb which was still fixed in your mouth; you lick around, blatantly ignoring his rugged skin. You hear him grunt ever so gently to your mouth wrapped around his thumb, tingling with excitement to know what it would be like to have this same warmth around his cock. Everything passes in a haze when he restlessly tugs down on his pants and briefs at the same time; you notice him take his thumb out of his mouth and instead he replaces it with his cock.

The reddened tip of his cock nudges against your lips and you open wide, lowering yourself down on his cock—though, only halfway considering his length would take you long to adjust to while the thick girth already made the corners of your mouth sting. He holds your neck, his fingers delicately splayed on the nape as he pushes you down, however he's mindful of you and how much you can take in. You start stroking the remaining of his shaft—which you would eventually have to swallow deep in your mouth.

"Fuck, you're driving me insane with your mouth, I might..." he trails his words off into a low groan, beginning to thrust himself into your mouth. "I'm not going to last long, am I?"

He taunts, digging his fingers into your skin as he pushes your head further down on his cock; his thrusts become too sloppy, and you don't pay much mind to it. You are too focused on widening your mouth around his cock to fit him fully inside. Feeling the tip of his cock brush against your throat, you almost gag; your throat tightens, and the suffocation starts sneaking up on you, but you push yourself through and sink lower on his cock.

"Fuck, such a good brat, taking me in so well," he whimpers coarsely, "but this little brat needs to be punished for making me break my rules."

You gaze up at him with your teary eyes, softening them as he looks down at you too. Nodding your head, you hollow your cheeks and bop your head up and down after adjusting to his size. Your fingers dig into his fleshy thighs, constraining your moans with his cock stuffed in your mouth, you keep staring up at him till a few drops of tears cascade down your cheeks. He brings his other hand to caress your cheeks, thumb stroking off the tears as he doesn't let go of your head. You're on the verge of gagging on his cock, choking even, but disregarding your gag reflex, he bucks his hips into your face and his cock slides further down your throat. Unable to hold onto your moans and whimpers, you try to make a sound—the vibrations send him reeling from pleasure, he throws his head back and tightens his hold on your neck.

"Can't make a sound because my cock is—your mouth is stuffed with my cock, isn't it?" he teases, closing his eyes shut to relish the wetness and warmth of your mouth. "Don't worry—I won't—I won't cum too soon. My brat deserves a little—a little bit of fun even if she's being pun—punished."

His stutter was absolutely beautiful, it showed how much of a mess he was with your mouth wrapped around his cock, engulfed in the devious warmth of it. Somehow, it gave you a sense of victory, a sense of peace to know you had gotten him on his edge with only your mouth and nothing else. The saltiness of his precum floods your mouth—it makes you retch a bit regardless of that, you continue sucking him off while his thrusts are slow and steady. In the meantime, he pulls his untucked shirt above till his chest and holds it there; he pushes your head further down on his cock, till your nose is pressed against his pubic bone and your skin feels ticklish from his trimmed pubic hair.

His chest is rising and falling at an alarming rate; he surely was a mess, and you liked seeing it. When you peek up at him with your still-teary eyes, you notice sweat covering his forehead, making his hair stick to his skin while his cheeks are flushed with a shade of red. How adorable. How fucking adorable. The ever so haughty and stoic professor was writhing under your touches, with how you lapped your tongue under his shaft and purposely sucked your cheeks in to make it tight.

In actuality, you were really driving him wild; his grip on your neck loosens a bit for a hot second and he uses that time to let his hand entangle in your hair. You didn't realise when you groped his thighs for support, even so, your nails had dug deep enough to leave behind crescent marks on his skin, the kind which would fluster with a brutal purple tint tomorrow. Grasping a proper hold on your hair, he pulls you back and frees his cock from his mouth; a vile 'pop' sound resounds in the room while he does so.

The moment his cock is out of your mouth, you gasp for air, you swallow huge lugs of air through your mouth and glance at him with dazed eyes. His thick and veiny cock was slick with your spit, shining softly under the lights while a few strings of your saliva still connected your lips and his shaft. Your drool had covered every inch of his cock and had also slithered down your chin. The sensation in your mouth was a little sticky and salty from his precum. You keep your mouth wide open and wipe off the drool using the back of your hand; he smugly chuckles, eyes on you like a predator.

"Need to take a break?" he taunts you, belittling your presence and you shake your head to a no. Leaning over, he cups your face in both of his hands and grazes his eyes along your chest and exposed thighs.

"Get up."

Again, his domineering voice forces you to oblige, and you get on your wobbly feet—feeling your throat sore and tight from his cock hitting constantly, you swallow enough amount of spit and try to wash the sting down. He notices it but doesn't say much. His hands slide down from your face and hold your waist as you stand in front him; without any doubt, he pushes your front against the desk and makes you bend over. One hand on the collar of your blouse, and other on the small of your back; he keeps you in that position while he takes his time to shimmy his pants and briefs down till his knees. He positions himself behind you, managing to push your skirt up on your back to expose your dripping wet panties and your cunt. Your wet panties were driving him wild; his breathing becomes even more ragged when he snaps at the waistband and pulls them down to your knees. He swallows thickly when his thirsty eyes lurk over your glistening wet cunt, clenching around nothing for the time being.

"This wet cunt is going to take in every inch of me...fuck," he curses his under his breath while he smoothens his hand on one of your buttcheeks. "But we can't forget about your punishment, can we?"

He flattens his palm against your ass, keeping you pressed against the desk with his hand on your neck; you whimper in anticipation and hold onto the edge of the desk till your knuckles turn while. Anticipation makes you wiggle your ass slightly, as you're on your tippy toes and perfectly bent over the desk.

"No, we can't," you heave out a shaky sigh, not able to control your excitement anymore. "How are you going to punish me, professor?"

You sneer in your seductive voice, slurring your words against your rounded lips to get a reaction out of him. Having your vision limited to the empty classroom and the workbenches, the exhilaration of not knowing what he was going to do, makes you even wetter.

Yunho knows how vile your mind is, he knows the wet patch on your panties continues to grow the more he teases you and honestly, he wasn't complaining. He liked it as much as you did, but he hid it well in his composed speech and relaxed movements.

"There's only one way to punish a brat like you," he grunts, slapping one of your buttcheeks, "count them."

So, you were getting spanked. Such a fitting punishment for a brat like you, by a professor too—why did it feel like you were trapped in a low-budget student-professor porn movie? You can't complain anyway, you were absolutely absorbed in the trance of your pleasure and his hands caressing your butt.

You nod and thus begins the punishment.

Slap!

"One," you mewl, feeling his hand burn on your skin.

Slap!

"Two," your breath hitches when you go to say it out loud, your skin stinging from his hand.

Slap!

"Thr—three!" you groan out loudly, the impact jolting your body against the top of the desk.

This one stung like a bitch.

Slap!

Without any warning, he adds one more spank to the same buttcheek before moving onto the other. He offers it a soft squeeze first, and then pulls his hand back and flattens his palm over it.

Slap!

"How many were those, huh?" he asks your mind fiddles with the remaining brain cells—how many were those? Really. How many?

"Si—six," you somehow manage to sputter, your spit falling on the desk in front of you.

"Good girl," he praises, rubbing his hand on your buttcheek before tracing it down to your folds. His fingers press and nudge against your folds until he rams one finger along your slit. Pushing down, wedging his finger deep inside, he watches your juices coat the length of his finger before he brings it to his nose to give it a good sniff. "I wonder if you're enjoying this punishment, pup. Are you? Are you enjoying this punishment...?"

First, your mind goes haywire when he teases you with that nickname. Pup. Well, you were turning out to be his pet, you might as well roll along with it.

Second, you were certainly enjoying the punishment, liking the way his hands were able to engulf your entire buttcheek at once.

Third, you're forced to slip out of your sanity when he aligns his cock with your hole and slowly sinks in. Your aroused juices proved helpful for him to slip right in. You suddenly start feeling full, the stretch of your walls subsiding into a soothing ache and then it sublimes completely into pleasure. Your desires were getting quenched; inch by inch your cunt swallows him whole, the burn on your walls now pacified by him. He doesn't move when he bottoms out, he keeps his cock sucked deep in you. Keeping one hand on the small of his back, he pushes your nimble body further against the desk—your back arches inwards and prodding your ass out for his easy access.

"Fuck, such a tight cunt. Got no one to loosen it out, Miss Lee?" he smirks, grunting at the way your walls clenched around him and remains unmoving. "Don't worry, I'll fuck it loose—fuck," you tighten around him listening to his wispy words, "do you want me to, huh, pup? Do you want me to fuck you loose?"

"Yeah—yeah, yeah I'd like that," you murmur, your brain turned into a mush and your body shuddering as he slowly, very slowly, starts moving. He doesn't pull out completely, he keeps his cock buried deep in you and slides in and out at a leisure pace.

"Of course, my pup would like to get fucked senseless," he mumbles, slapping one of your buttcheeks again.

You were fully sure his hand was now printed on your skin in a bright red shade; the soreness didn't matter because the thrill was eating you up and turning it into bliss. Biting back a moan, you keep your breathing steady. Though, you feel your chest shatter entirely when he picks up his pace. Your fingernails start scratching at the varnish on the table, a bit of it getting stuck in them.

"Yes, prof—professor..." you groan, stuttering with his thrusts.

"Nuh-huh, for an obedient puppy like you, I'm your master," he slides his cock out, and rams back into you, letting it plunge deep, "what should you—should you call me, pup?"

"Master," you breathe out, exasperated. "Master, please go faster, fuck! Fuck me harder please, breed your little pup." You cry, genuinely letting tears streak down your cheeks; you were weak already, holding out till he would increase the rhythm of his merciless thrusts.

Something goes off in his head, his hips start snapping at an animalistic pace with your body thrashing against the wooden desk; his hands are all over you, touching you, caressing you, leaving his marks on you. Though, at a point he brings one of his hands to the curve of your back, while his other hand winds itself around your thigh. Seeming seconds drag on with his thrusts curt and sharp, his cock reaching deep in your cunt till you could feel it tauten in the pit of your stomach. Yunho could sense your walls clench around his cock, not liking it one bit—his thrusts start faltering, gradually coming to a halt.

Still buried deep in you, he leans over your back—inching close to your neck, he bites down harshly before whispering, "does my pup want to cum?"

You could discern the slyness in his voice, and you nod your head with your mouth agape, drool glistening down your lower lip and staining your chin. Bearing his size, tuning with his blunt thrusts, and the way his tip was abusing your sweet spot, it was all too much, sending you into a sensory overdrive. At this point, you had zero comprehensible thoughts in your mind except for the heinous acts you were weaving into your body: all of them being about your professor and his huge dick.

"Well, then my pup has to wait a little longer," he grunts close to your ear and then straightens himself up, "master isn't done with his pup yet."

"Can my pup wait a little longer?" he presses his hand down on your back, reluctantly making your walls clench around him.

You're left with no choice but to nod your head again, and it satisfies him; his gradually starts moving again, keeping his thrusts steady and slow. He lets you adjust to him again, and eventually increases his pace. Pulling and shoving himself into you, he starts bucking his hips into your thighs, his grip tightening till his knuckles turn white while you hold onto the edge of the table like your life depended on it. Your body oscillates to and fro, colliding and thumping with the wooden table with his every thrust. The sound of clothes crumpling, and the rattling of his belt buckle, makes your heart race harder in your chest.

You had never imagined you'd be caught in this situation; not that you didn't imagine or fantasise it, you didn't think it'd become a reality. Yeah, it's true that you had countless fantasises about your professor, one of them being fucked while you're bent over his desk—but the probability of him actually fucking you was one in a twenty, considering there were twenty female students in your class. Skin slapping against skin, his cock thrashing balls deep in your tight cunt, you were still mewling in your mind for more. The sensation was diabolical in a way, clustering your brain with unwanted thoughts—hell, you had lost it.

A known tightness tangles itself in your gut, your stomach cherishing the last bit of butterflies it felt before knowing you would flood down on his cock soon. Your senses drop, your stomach twists and knots, your heart runs a miles per hour because his thrusts were helping you chase your high. You were so sure he was going to let you take a break, let you ease out the tightness in your stomach; but to your unbridled surprise, he doesn't. His movements dither, slowing down till he comes to a stop again; he's still buried deep in you, and somehow that caused you more pain than his actual thrusts.

"Aww, my pup is too eager to get off," he mumbles, throwing his head back in pure bliss from your walls still clenched around him, but then he feels you loosen, and he starts pounding into you with a gentle tempo. "Not so soon. You're still getting punished."

He drags on for an hour or so, his thrusts stopping completely sometimes, his cock buried deep in your warmth—eventually he would pick up his pace and ram into your tight little cunt as if it was the last thing he wanted. You had been denied your orgasm a few times, counting it, you had been denied three times so far. Though that pleasure was turning into pain, your belly ached with every inch of strain his cock put on your cunt. Your stomach knots itself for the fourth time, your legs trembling and your yearning crossing your threshold to hold your orgasm in.

The familiarity only grows in your gut, your walls puckering around his cock to milk out his own orgasm; but he knows how to play it off well, he wasn't going to cum before you did. Pressing back into your thighs, he remains unmoving for a second before picking up his pace again, his cock plunges into the deeper void of your cunt, almost protruding the walls to your gut. You have lost your voice to make a sound, one thing—but the other thing was you weren't supposed to make a lot of noise. Swallowing your moans and grunts, you feel your high washing over; your walls tighten around his cock one last time before they're coming undone—releasing you juices all over his cock. Some of it squirts around as his cock still keeps plunging deep into you, a few drops stain his abdomen and get absorbed in his clothes, but he doesn't seem too bothered by it.

"My pup made a mess on my cock," he grumbles, closing his eyes shut as he helps you ease your cunt with a few of his concise and brief thrust. His thighs collide with yours, heat growing between your bodies and your skin slick from sweat and your orgasm. "Such a pretty pup, such a beautiful little baby..." he rambles on his own, incoherent and inaudible, but mostly it was him losing his mind over the trickling warmth of your arousal.

His thrusts become sloppy once he knows he's reaching his high; but he doesn't give out just yet. With a couple more longing and concise thrusts, he lets himself drive his cock deep into your warmth—he counts down the minutes with his ambling pokes till it becomes unbearable for him to hold out. Taking a deep breath and arching his back to let his cock plunge deep, he slides one of his hands on your lower back—pressing, pushing, digging his fingers and palm in your flesh, he releases himself in deep in you. With every thrust, he keeps pulling out till he completely slides out of you. He smirks at the sight his eyes behold, twinkling with a yearning no one knows, not even you; his load dribbles down your pussy, staining your skin in stark white shade, as some of it spurts on your inner thighs.

You're breathless, too fucked to understand anything and thus you couldn't register your surroundings quite well when he flips you over. Grabbing your shoulders, he pushes you down on the ground, having you kneel before him with his cock near your mouth. The veins on his cock were less bulged than before, but his shaft was coated in a thin layer of his cum and glints a bit with your juices.

"Clean me up, pup."

His order doesn't go unheard by you, and as the loyal little puppy you are to him, you hold on to the sides of his thighs and lean in to lick his cock off. At first, it's a weird concoction of saltiness and a little bit of sweetness, soon it fades to nothing. You lap your tongue around his shaft, over and under his tip till you've cleared everything off from his cock—you pull back, smiling dizzily because you were delighted to help him out. Half-lidded eyes trace a line up and you find him staring at down at you, his hand in the process to grab your jaw. Caressing your chin, he pulls you up on your feet and helps you sit on the desk before wrapping his arms around your waist to pull himself closer to you.

"Miss Lee," he whispers, "I'm sure the post-orgasm clarity is now sinking in both of our minds, but we certainly need to address the elephant in the room."

You lean forward to rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes shut for a moment, you take a deep breath in and relax your tensed muscles. "Professor Jeong...I've wanted this to happen for a long time."

"So, you have no regard for me losing my job, do you?" he teases, rubbing circles on your back to soothe you, "Lee Sherri, you really are a brat. Making me break my rules."

"What rules?" you grin, peeking up at him as your wrap your arms around his broad chest.

"I don't date my students," he murmurs, pecking your forehead.

"Who's suggesting you date me?" you chuckle, shaking your head, "we can be fuck buddies."

"Is that what you call it nowadays?" he laughs, heartily, pouting down at you as he continues, "we'll have to be really careful, Sherri. Can't have anyone knowing about us—"

Knock knock!

Your eyes go wide, your heart thumps in your chest and your lips start quivering in fear. On the other hand, Yunho is pretty tame, and he only offers you a reassuring smile.

"Straighten out your clothes and relax. It's no stranger, I've been expecting him actually," he mumbles, breaking apart from your embrace to pull his pants and briefs up.

Whilst he is buttoning his pants and buckling the belt, you too tug your panties up and hop off the desk. You try to smoothen out the creases on your skirt and blouse—your white lacy socks were stained with dust at the knees, but you didn't care about it. The clutter of papers on the desk remains as it is, neither of you bothered to organise it. Professor Jeong smiles at you warmly before heading to the door of the classroom, he unlocks the latch and pulls the doors inside to reveal another man with tall silhouette standing there.

Professor Song.

"Since when have you been locking your doors, Yun?" the latter teasingly mutters and chortles, stepping past his friend and entering the classroom which reeks of sweat and sex. He sniffs the air and along the lines his eyes land on you, "ah. So, you were having "one-on-one" with your student."

Professor Song wasn't a professor from your department, he was the heartthrob of the physics department, seemingly the kind who would definitely not have any sentiments towards his students or anyone younger to him for that matter. Clad in a plaid shirt and khakis, he too had a body worth breaking the laws for; his toned biceps bulged out of the sleeves he had rolled over to his elbows, his thick thighs (which you've fantasied riding on) were defined by his tight khakis, and hazel eyes were piercing through you with curiosity.

"Miss Lee and I were just discussing, weren't we, Miss Lee?" Yunho calls out from behind him, tugging down on the crotch of his pants for some apparent reason.

"Discussing what?"

You shift your weight on your feet, standing an inch away from the desk (where you were just railed by your professor) and you pull down on your skirt, not knowing why you felt the need to. You eye your tote bag fallen down on the floor, then at the mess of your binder on the table, and one thing becomes clear which is you and Professor Jeong did fuck on the table.

"I was chiding her for not completing her experimental write-ups, Min," Yunho adds, scratching the back of his neck as he comes to stand next to him. "Miss Lee, we'll have a proper discussion about your careless behaviour next time, perhaps tomorrow. Now, you may leave."

You nod, "ye—yes professor."

Hastily, you sprint out of the classroom after gathering your things and stuffing them in your bag in a haphazard way; meanwhile Mingi rolls his eyes at his friend and scoffs.

"Lie to someone else, Yun."

"Fuck you," he grumbles before a conceited smirk takes over his face.

"If you keep your trap shut, maybe we can share."

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #jeong yunho x reader #atz #jeong yunho smut #smut #yunho #yunho ateez #yunho smut #choi san #song mingi #choi san x reader #jeong yunho x you

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

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This is a short Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader fic for @lauraliisa and @pasta-m1lk who requested a part 2 of the Hot Seat fic. I won’t be making a part 3 for this; I prefer to leave the rest to your imagination (sometimes I, too, like to torment the ones I love 😈) The fic is SFW, I promise.

Yesterday at the morning debrief, he was back to his usual self, dressed in his military uniform, with his signature skull balaclava, tactical boots and gloves. He eyed each of you independently and gave orders for the day’s duties.

Toilets. That was your day’s duty. Cleaning the fucking toilets.

And as if that wasn’t enough to torment you, he turned in front of everyone and yelled your name.

“Y/N,” he said, “will be quite tired after cleaning duty, don’t you all think?” to which everyone replied with the “sir, yes, sir,” including yourself.

“To thank her for her service,” he continued, “she’ll receive an exceptional deep tissue massage treatment after she fulfils her duties,” and added a “lucky her.”

Soap was standing behind you. “What the fuck did you do this time,” he whispered, and you discreetly asked him what a deep tissue massage meant. He smirked and said, “you’re about to find out.”

Under normal circumstances, a deep tissue massage would have been revitalising with the occasional “good hurt”.

This “deep tissue” massage was like a compact hell week; there was no relief from pained muscles, and full of “bad hurts.”

He made you run 8km with your bergen, do a fuckton of reps consisting of press-ups, burpees and sit-ups, then wash, rinse and repeat.

“Again.” He ordered, and you obeyed.

“Again.” He commanded, and you did as you were told.

“Again.” He said one last time, and you warned him that you were about to throw up, to which he replied with a simple “good.”

He might have thought you were over-exaggerating, but you couldn’t hold it anymore. You stood up with all the power you had left, ran to the nearest trash bin, dipped yourself halfway in, and began to gag. The smell of rotten food didn’t help.

You didn’t hear him approaching, but you felt his glove brushing the stray hairs off your forehead, his other hand gently patting your back.

He didn’t speak until you wiped your mouth with your hand.

“Better?” He asked.

“I didn’t mean to make a fool out of you, sir,” you explained in between gasps, “on the contrary, I was trying to be,” you got another gasp, “discreet, sir.”

He kept stroking your hair and back until you were finished talking. He then helped you up and held you by the shoulders.

“Seems like you’re not well, soldier,” he said in a low voice, “I would suggest requesting a sick leave.”

You were covered in sweat, your hair all messed up, you smelled like a trashcan, and your body ached in places you never knew existed. But you stared at Ghost, dumbfounded. This could have easily been a trap.

“I’m not si-“

“I’ll give you tomorrow off,” he stopped you, “how’s that?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but he squeezed your shoulders and shot you a meaningful look. He kept nodding, signalling for you to answer in the same manner.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, looking at him hesitantly.

He patted your shoulder. “Good,” he said, “now, what are you up to tomorrow?”

Your mouth dropped to the floor. “I, um, I’ll be home, I guess, sir.”

“So,” he tilted his head, “no plans for tomorrow?”

“N-no.” You replied, still in disbelief.

“Huh, what a coincidence,” he said, putting his hand on his hips, “I’m on leave tomorrow as well.”

“C-cool…” You muttered. What the fuck was he up to.

“Would you like to go for a coffee tomorrow morning?” He asked, “or tea, in your case, because,” he gestured at the miserable state he brought you in, “you know, you’re sick.”

You kept staring at each other. You couldn’t see Simon’s expression, but you looked like someone picked you up with a giant claw and dropped you right in the middle of a David Lynch movie.

“Should I take your silence as a- “

“Yes,” you nodded vigorously, “as a yes, sir; you can take it as a yes.”

He came this morning with his motorcycle and picked you up; he brought an extra helmet for you and secured it on your head.

He drove you to a café close to the pub you first saw and identified him without his mask, the reason behind all that hazing you’ve been through. The reason why you’re both here now.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you tell him.

“Why not?” He asks, “you’re sick and on leave.”

“I’m not sick,” you whisper with a smile, “and neither are you.”

He shrugs. “Oh, but I am sick,” he opposes you, “sick and tired of serving and ordering and,” he looks around, “killing.” He whispers.

You nod empathetically. He diverts his gaze from you and looks at the street, almost embarrassed for admitting it. You think of his mask; he doesn’t wear it to cover his good looks as you first thought. Ghost is a persona for the battlefield—for serving and ordering and killing. This, right here, sitting in front of you, is Simon.

“Hey,” you snap your fingers to distract him from his thoughts, “you promised me coffee.”

“Tea,” he corrects you, and you shake your head.

“I hate tea.” You say.

He shoots you a death stare and looks up at the sky.

“Why?” he wonders out loud and smiles, “why didn’t I ask you about that before taking you out on a date?” And gestures at the waiter to come and take your order.

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pinievsev · 1 year

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Request: Hey I was wondering if you could do an Ajax x reader fic where Y/N can speak to animals and when she walks past Ajax she can hear the snakes talking about and admiring her so she starts to talk to them and Ajax is like wtf ofc they end up together but still it would be a funny one shot, like for example when they're taking a test next to each-other the snakes just tell her it answers. You don't have to make one but it would be greatly appreciated if you do could <3.

I absolutely love this! I've wanted to write something including his snakes- but I didn't know what! So! Let's go! (P.s. I have a lot of requests and alot of things to focus on and it's pretty hard so I'm sorry if these take along time)

SNAKE TALK!

Pairing: Ajax Petropolus x fem!reader. (Because the request specifically uses she/her <3)

Synopsis: in which, a certain Gorgon's snakes take a liking to Enid's best friend ;)

The reader is a Zoolinguist.

Zoolinguism: ability of communicating with animals. (Had to do some deep research on this)

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You had been Enid's best friend for the past semester, it's only been a month since you started this one, and everything is going great except for one thing. Sometimes when walking around the campus, mainly the quad, you hear mumbling in really high pitched hushed voices, if that makes sense. You've told Enid but she has absolutely no idea what it could be, you knew animals weren't usually aloud in school.

You were sitting at the quad with Enid breaking your heads trying to figure out what it could be. Suddenly, you heard mumbling again, this time, detriment to find out what it was, you go focused on it. "Ohhh look! Look there she is!" "She's pretty!" "Come on!! Go closer!!",were some of the things you heard along with what sounded like hissing. Wait! Hissing?!.

"Enid!" You said shaking your head "what animal makes some type of hissing sound?" she narrowed her eyes "cats?" You shook your head "can't be.." just then the bell rang, oh god you had a test in astronomy (I'm too lazy to find out a name myself, sorry not sorry j.k.r <3) "sorry Enid, gotta run! We'll talk later" she nodded as you sped walked off.

You knew, nothing. "Damnit" you mumbled Staring at the paperwork Infront of you. It was like the latters didn't form words, it was a disaster. You looked to your side, seeing your crush and friend Ajax, the way his nose scrunched when he didn't know something was adorable to you. Turning back you blinked rapidly trying to make sense of the question, then you heard it again, mumbling and decided to focus once more "4! The answers 4!" You heard the voices. You filled in number 4. This went on untill you finished your test. You didn't know who or what they were but you sure were thankful. Walking out of class you mumbled a "thanks" hoping they heard and walked off, leaving Ajax confused, and distressed trying to get his snakes to stay in his beanie. They've been acting weirdly lately. And he didn't know why.

You walked into your dorm, full speed "Enid! Guess what!" She jumped, turning off her music "yeah? Do tell!" She jumped on her bed Patting the spot Infront of her for you to sit, and you did "I had a test in astronomy, and I knew nothing right?" She nodded "and then I heard them again, the voices" her eyes widened "and?! Come on!!" "They were telling me the answers!" You smiled wide eyed and you both started laughing "seriously?!" You nodded frantically trying to catch your breath "yes! Seriously!" She thought for a second "so you said, they are alot of voices together right?" You nodded "and they are high pitched?" "Yup!" "Hm, maybe the animals are small" "most likely yeah." "And they make hissing sounds?" "Yes what are you trying to say?" She shrugged.

You were, once again, in the quad. When Ajax walked up to you "Hey! Y/n!" You looked up "hi!" He sat down next to you "are you alright? You've been acting kind of weird lately... And so have my snakes" he whispered the last part but you heard and your eyes went wide "your snakes?!" He nodded "oh my god- that's it!" You laughed rubbing your face "what's it?!" And then they started mumbling again, it sounded like Laughing so you laughed along "you scared me" you said to them breathing out "how did i-? What?" Ajax said "no you your snakes!" Just them two of them popped out of his beanie"hi!" They said and you waved "wait what-?" Ajax looked up and his eyes went wide "have they been..." "Talking about and to me? Yeah, they even told me the answers yesterday" Ajax put on a fake betrayed face "you traitors" you shook your head "what can I say, they love me" "they're not the only ones" he mumbled "what?" "What?" "What did you just say?.." he gulped "nothing, I said nothing" "no you did" you looked up at the snakes still poking out of the beanie "he said he loves you" your eyes went wide "you... What?" He sighed "traitors.." I said- I love you" you nodded breathing heavily "I... Me too, I love you too" he smiled "good! That good" you giggled at his awkwardness "now kiss!" You heard the snakes again "fine fine" "what-" you cut him off, kissing him, smiling into his lips as they cheered.

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Thank you so much to @iamonewiththebitches for the request <3!

Taglist: @snickerdodles , @111cherry , @luv4petersteele , @kxxvvxxi , @sidneysprit , @poppet05 , @marvelsimps , @i-wish-this-was-me , @wonderlandco , @day-dream1231 , @ke1ramar1e , @georgi-salva , @arson-the-royal , @falleni0-hq , @mindflay3r , @rottenstyx , @alice0blog , @nova-lov3su , @elduster , @countsmoon , @biggestsimponhere , @andreeasancheez , @justmanu , @whitewingsh , @hwrtsiren

#wednesday series #wednesday netflix #wednesday oneshots #ajax petropolus #ajax petropolus x reader #wednesday x reader

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mauselet · 5 months

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The Influencer - And All Is Not Fine

This story is for @ask-the-rag-dolly's blog, specifically The Influencer AU. Honestly, loving the blog so much. Huge thanks to Mod Bee for creating it and if you haven't already, go check out her blog.

Big thanks to WanderingDragon and Foolscap Hamato for helping with the fic.

Yes, the story is named after Entropy by Awkward Marina lyrics. Also, the anon/s that speak in orange and red, you got a reference in there cause it felt fitting.

Well, I really hope you enjoy this story!

Story includes: Ragatha X Pomni (but can be taken as platonically), angst, hurt/comfort

TW body horror, possessive behavior, possession, anxiety/panic attack, haphephobia/fear of being touched, questioning sanity, self-neglect

It's been a few weeks since Pomni found out that there were currently hundreds of voices inside Ragatha's head. Wow, and after all this time it didn't sound any less insane. From what Pomni understood, those voices were a virus that had infected the circus and latched onto Ragatha. They couldn't tell Caine about this because he'd likely kill them and Ragatha refused that. For some reason, she wanted to protect them which seemed even crazier than the whole situation. Some of them were friendly, sure, but others…

They attacked Jax, causing him to glitch out. They taunted Ragatha by plaguing her mind with the worst cases imaginable or calling her names or taking her too literally. They spawned that stupid paper shredder!

Oh, how Pomni hated that thing! The next time she sees one, she’ll personally smash it into pieces.

In short, the voices–all of them–stressed Ragatha out. And who could blame her? Sometimes even your own voice in your head can drive you mad. Pomni was actually impressed that the doll hadn’t reached her breaking point yet with these “anons”, as they called themselves, constantly following her.

Of course, it wasn’t all that bad. Sure, they led to Ragatha temporarily losing her arm, but it was also thanks to them that she worked up the courage to speak to Pomni again. The thought of that always brought a smile to the jester’s face.

She was glad she could talk to her. Not only because Ragatha was nice and overall pleasant to be around, but it was also good for the ragdoll; especially now that she avoided the other circus performers to prevent another Jax fiasco or a possible infection.

The redhead’s absence was noticed by the others and to Pomni’s surprise, they were concerned about her. When Pomni first arrived, she was too busy spiraling down her anxiety to see it, but these trapped souls were friends. They cared about one another, even if it’d be in their own strange ways. So Pomni decided to reassure them all with daily reports on how Ragatha was doing.

And that was usually the extent of her interactions with them. Until Caine’s adventures forced her to stick around the whole day. Sometimes she was able to avoid them, however, there were times when she just couldn’t no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately for her, adventures like these stacked over the course of the last few days, making it basically impossible for Pomni to check on Ragatha.

By the third or fourth day, Pomni was getting anxious. Throughout the adventure, her fingers were constantly convulsing while stuck in an unnatural position, her eyes turned into scribbles and her thoughts were as far away from the game as possible.

Ragatha must’ve been lonely. It’s been days since she’s interacted with anyone. Well…since she’s interacted with someone who meant no harm to her. Hopefully, she was alright…

Pomni suddenly jerked and snapped out of her thoughts as a gloved hand waved in front of her eyes. Her head shot up and she saw Kinger, Zooble and Gangle who announced to her that they found a way to replace her in today’s adventure and that she could go see Ragatha. If she had to be honest, she didn’t even know what the adventure was, but if she really wasn’t needed there…

She gave the three of them a quick smile and dashed to Ragatha’s room as fast as her short legs could carry her. As soon as she arrived and caught her breath, she rang the bell, waiting and…

Waiting.

Pomni felt a pit in her stomach. No, no, no. She shook her head. Everything’s fine, it’s just taking a bit. She rang again.

“R-Ragatha? It’s me, Pomni. A-are you in there?”

But she was still left waiting.

“Ragatha!” she raised her voice, yet still no response.

Oh God, three days… Three whole days with nothing but those voices. That must’ve been a nightmare for the doll and Pomni left her dealing with that alone. She left her again…

“I’m coming in!” she announced and reached for the doorknob. Her body froze as she held it, overwhelmed by worried thoughts, but also by a sense of déjà vu. She chuckled darkly at the memory of desperately wanting to know what was behind a door she shouldn’t go through and then opened.

A wave of relief washed over Pomni as she wasn’t instantly met with a glitching blob with a thousand glowing eyeballs. She walked in and closed the door behind her.

She looked around the room and her heart skipped a beat. Ragatha was there, sitting on her bed, sewing what appeared to be a suit. She was so focused on her work; maybe that's why she didn't register the bell. Pomni can't actually remember if she'd ever seen her this focused, but she looked surprisingly calm and, the jester had to admit, quite pretty.

“Um…Ragatha?” the short woman started, walking over, “I'm sorry for barging in, I was just worried when you didn't answer.” But the ragdoll didn't respond; it was as if she didn’t even notice that Pomni was in the room talking to her.

Was she ignoring her? Was she mad? Did she…hate her? All of those thoughts sounded really ridiculous considering that this was Ragatha we were talking about. She doesn’t even allow herself to hate Jax, someone who’s caused more than enough harm to her, so there is no way she’d ever hate Pomni. Right…? Yet all those thoughts, as unrealistic as they might’ve seemed, felt like real possibilities to Pomni.

Somehow despite Jax putting her worst fear in her room, voices constantly screaming at her and hurting her and Caine forcing her into some of the most dangerous scenarios, not being there for her seemed like the biggest crime of them all.

Well, there was only one way to fix it.

“I’m so sorry I took so long,” Pomni let out, her steps slowing down, “I tried to check on you, but Caine’s adventures-”

“Oh, it’s alright, dear,” hearing that gentle voice, Pomni stopped. It was nice hearing her again, but something felt off. Sure, Ragatha occasionally used pet names like hun or sweetheart or even dear–oh geez, Pomni felt her cheeks heating up just thinking about it—that wasn’t the issue. She sounded more nonchalant than reassuring.

That didn’t matter right now. She wasn’t mad and that brought a smile to Pomni’s face. However, that didn’t last long as the doll finally raised her head.

Pomni’s face turned paler than usual if it was even possible, the pinwheel eyes shrunk, making them nearly invisible and her smile vanished as if it was never there.

Oh %$!#... Oh %$!#! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! This wasn’t… This couldn’t have been real!

She wasn’t just staring at a black void with two colorful eyes where Ragatha’s button was supposed to be. She wasn’t just witnessing her friend slowly abstracting in front of her! She wasn’t… She wasn’t…

This wasn’t real!

It… It was just one of the digital hallucinations that Caine mentioned. Yeah! That’s it! That’s…That’s what it…was…

But those eyes, that void, they were still there, no matter how much Pomni convinced herself about the opposite.

Caine. She had to go get Caine! As Ragatha said once, maybe there was still time to fix this.

“Stay here!” Pomni blurted out, “I’ll be right back!” She quickly turned around and ran to the door. She’s going to come back this time. This time she won’t let Ragatha suffer.

She reached for the doorknob, but before she could grab it, arms wrapped around her and she was pulled back. One of the arms held her abdomen while the other was around her neck, not too tight yet still uncomfortable.

Feeling the fabric arms against her skin made her dizzy and itchy. She could sense every single pixel touching her, causing goosebumps to spread over her body.

“Where are you going, dear~?” she heard a whisper in her ear. It was Ragatha’s gentle, calming voice- No. It sounded different and…wrong. The voice was demanding and rough.

Pomni’s breath hitched. Was really something wrong with Ragatha? Or was her mind just messing with her? Well, the physical contact didn’t exactly help her think clearly as her body was plagued with this disgusting sensation.

“Don’t leave me~” For whatever reason, those words made the black-haired woman sick.

The doll’s embrace tightened. The touch of the fabric felt so venomous and paralyzing. It felt sickening. It felt wrong.

The jester wanted to escape that trap. She needed to escape it, yet no matter how much the voice in her head screamed at her body to move, it wouldn’t budge an inch. She was frozen in such a predicament with nothing but her racing heart, uneven breath, and voice stuck in her throat.

She attempted to take a deep breath, only to leave herself coughing.

“Are you alright, dear?” That voice again. It made shivers run down Pomni’s spine.

She sucked in another breath and let out a very weak and broken “Ragatha”. She repeated this a few times until she made a sensible sentence: “Ragatha… Please, let go…”

“Let go?” the doll wondered innocently, “why would I do that?”

“Please…” the jester mouthed.

“It’s not like I want to hurt you.” The grip tightened even more. “I would never hurt you. I would never-” The taller woman went silent. She felt the pale jester in her arms trembling and her heart dropped.

“Pomni…” Ragatha let out softly and her embrace loosened, “y-you’re shaking…” Rather than talking to Pomni, however, she seemed to have told it to herself. Reminding it to herself as if just physically feeling it wasn't enough to make it sink in.

Even some of the voices were yelling at her to let go while the others objected. Was it the good or bad ones? What even made them good or bad? Were there even any bad voices? Were there even any good voices?

The voices that objected weren’t yelling, but whispering yet they were somehow much louder than the yells.

“Don’t listen to them–” “You can’t let go–” “You can–!” “She’ll find Caine and tell him about us–” “She wouldn’t–” “It’s too great of a risk–!” “If Caine finds out about us, we’ll be–” “What would happen to Rags–?”

“Ragatha, don’t you care about us? Don’t you care about what happens to you?!”

She flinched, instinctively tensing her hold on Pomni. In no way did she help the situation, with the jester’s body convulsing out of control.

“What is it, dolly? Are we too much for you to handle? Are we too loud? Can you even tell the difference between us and your own thoughts? Is there even a difference at this point?”

Oh God, her knees felt weak, her head was spinning, and tears filled her eye. She felt like she was about to collapse at any moment, but there was something forcing her to stand. Something kept her body like this against her will despite her exhaustion.

“Oh, dollface, do you feel the abstraction crawling under your skin? Or well, fabric? Did we do it? Did we f̴i̷n̴a̵l̸l̴y̸ ̶b̷r̸e̶a̵k̷ ̶y̷o̴u̵?̸”

All the voices then started shouting over one another again. Ragatha couldn’t even make out what they were saying as it all blended into an incoherent mess. With so much noise in her head, she wanted to join them. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs; let out all her frustration not just with the voices, but with her whole body. It would be a beautiful relief, but even that was a luxury. Her body wouldn’t let her. They wouldn’t let her.

She’d swear that in the middle of all the noise she heard things that made her want to throw up. She hoped that it was just her imagination and her brain tried to give those noises some meaning, however… That would mean it was her own thoughts and that creeped her out even more. Strangely, some of those words weren’t anything bad, they were just…words. Yet they all sounded so disgusting. So wrong. Every last one of them.

Every last one…

Every last–

“Please…” One voice silenced all of them despite how weak and broken it was. No… No, it was loud and clear. It was…real.

It hit her like a truck. Everything that just happened in the span of a few minutes. How Pomni walked into the room, apologizing. How terrified the jester was when she saw her. How she stopped her when she tried to leave. How she was holding her this whole time despite the pain she was clearly causing Pomni.

Ragatha jumped back, letting go of the jester, allowing her to collapse to her knees. The small woman was sitting there, swinging back and forth, hyperventilating. She reached her hands to her arms as if to brace herself, but she didn’t touch. Instead, she grabbed her hat and pulled, her eyes shut. The bells one would associate with joy and fun now sounded distorted to both of the performers. The bells were… unnerving.

“Oh my gosh…” Ragatha let out as it all sank in. She covered her mouth and a tear ran down her face as she stared down at the black-haired woman. Her heart was breaking at the sight. “Oh my gosh…”

She did this… No, no, no. The voices did. Right…? She…She wasn’t in control, was she?

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, although, she wasn’t sure if Pomni could even hear her, “I-I lost control of them.” She cried more. “I messed up. Ragatha, you idiot… You %$!# idiot! You scared her. You hurt her! Why would I…? I would never-”

She felt tears rolling down her right cheek too, but that wasn’t possible. She wiped the tears with her hand and when she looked at it, her fingertips were covered by dark liquid.

Her heart stopped, realizing what that was. The dark void was leaking. The voices were right…

The bells on Pomni’s head rang again, causing Ragatha to snap out of those thoughts. There was something more important she had to do than pity herself. Her emotions could wait. Her abstraction could wait! She didn’t matter right now. She didn’t matter at all! Pomni did.

Despite her own breakdown, she rushed over to the jester, kneeling in front of her. She was in tears, barely thinking straight, potentially on the verge of abstracting, but Pomni mattered more.

Ragatha reached her hand towards the pale woman but flinched when she realized it wasn’t the brightest idea considering what caused this in the first place. She instead laid her hands on her own knees so Pomni could see them.

“Hey, Pomni?” she spoke up, her voice trembling. That sure was reassuring…

C’mon, Ragatha! Get a hold of yourself! Pomni needs you! Don’t freak her out.

She took a deep breath and ran her hand through her yarn, brushing it over her right eye to hide it. She curled her hands into fists and calmed her breath before speaking.

“Pomni, hun?” She was doing her best to keep her voice stable this time. “Look at me, please. Hun, look at me.” Pomni cringed, her body still going back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s just me. The real me, I promise,” Ragatha continued, “I just need you to look at me.” The big eyes slowly opened, showing scribbles, and looked up. “That’s it.” Ragatha smiled at her brightly. “Good job, sweetheart. Good job.”

The smaller woman was still trembling, still pulling at her hat, still swinging back and forth, still not controlling her breath.

“Alright, dear-”

Pomni flinched at that, tears streaming down her face as she looked away.

“O-okay! Okay,” Ragatha said in an unintentional panic. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out. I won't call you that again, I promise. I promise. You’re safe now.”

Still in tears, the jester stopped pulling at her hat, yet the bells kept ringing. Each sob was accompanied by a happy metallic chime as her body jerked. Ragatha had to admit that it made her wails quite adorable and each little jingle seemingly made a voice in her head disappear each time. But she wished more than anything that they'd stop.

“Pomni?” Ragatha knew she had to keep trying. “Hey, Pompom, hun… Can you look at me again?”

The smaller woman didn't seem to listen. She then choked on her sobs as they didn't mix well with her rapid breathing. Seeing this, some of the voices panicked, but Ragatha had to stay calm. She instinctively lifted her hand from her knee, however, thankfully stopped herself from touching Pomni.

“Please?” the ragdoll’s soothing voice asked and Pomni couldn't deny it. The black-haired woman turned to her, scribbles in her bloodshot eyes.

“Good job.” A smile of relief and reassurance formed on Ragatha's face. “Now, honey, you're having another episode, but that's okay. It's okay, I'll help you through it. I’m not going anywhere. We'll get through it together, okay?”

Pomni nodded slowly, choking on her sobs again.

“I need you to breathe with me,” Ragatha told her, “four seconds in, hold and six out. Four, hold, six.” She waited for Pomni to nod again before she took a deep breath that the jester immediately followed, yet struggling. They held their breath, but sniffles broke them. Then they exhaled together.

“Now, let's try again.”

And as Ragatha said, they did. Breathing was much easier for Pomni this time around.

“You're doing great,” the redhead praised her, “are you able to go on your own?” She watched as Pomni nodded and took another deep breath with her eyes shut. “Good, keep going. You’re safe, hun. Focus on me, okay?”

When Pomni opened her eyes again, they were back to their pinwheel look. Ragatha also noticed that she stopped shaking and the swinging slowed down. Her smile widened in relief.

She kept talking to Pomni while the jester calmed her breath. They were like this for a few more minutes until…

“R-Ragatha…?” Pomni finally spoke up and the ragdoll gasped quietly.

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Ragatha greeted her, “you feeling any better?”

“A little…” Pomni’s voice was still pretty weak, but she had much more to say. She held her hands together, rubbing her thumb with the other. “But I should be the one asking you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ragatha shook her head. “I just helped you through a panic attack-”

“And I’m forever grateful for that,” the jester blurted out, “but, Ragatha… You’re on the verge of abstracting!” They both flinched at the yell and Ragatha covered the black void on her face despite being hidden behind the hair. “And it’s all because of me.” Pomni shifted her eyes away. “Because I left you when you needed me. Again!”

“Pomni, you can’t blame yourself for that. It wasn’t your fault.”

“‘Can’t blame yourself?’ You’re the one to talk,” the pale woman scuffed. She then took a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“No, you have all the right to call me out.”

“Did it happen because of… them?” Pomni glanced at the taller woman, her eyes narrowing at the last word.

“I think so,” Ragatha replied and noticed Pomni inhaling to speak, but she quickly interrupted her, “that’s why you can’t tell Caine.”

“But, Rag-”

“You promised.”

“And you said you wanted this to stop,” Pomni reminded her, raising her voice, “I understand you don’t want them to die, but think about what they’re doing to you. Stress? Mental breakdowns? Abstraction?!” The doll lowered her head in shame. “Rags, you’re suffering and I can’t bear to watch. You care about the people around you and I appreciate that, but for once in this digital life think about yourself first.”

“No need to worry, darling,” Ragatha said calmly, looking up with a bright smile as if the topic was just a casual small talk, “the anons are actually what keeps me from abstracting, otherwise I’d be in the cellar by now.” Pomni cringed at every word due to how cheerfully the doll said them. “We’re also really, really sorry for touching you. We were so afraid of you telling Caine that we had to stop you somehow. Sorry we hurt you.”

Pomni was just staring at her, an unsure expression painted on her face. This all felt wrong and Ragatha’s next words didn’t ease that feeling.

“I’m fine, really. I’m sure that I can join in on the adventures again soon.”

No, that wasn’t right. She just said she’s afraid of Caine finding out, why does she suddenly want to take part in his adventures? And that wasn’t the only thing off.

“What happened to staying in your room to prevent infecting people with the virus?” Pomni wondered, “don’t get me wrong, the others would be happy to see you and they’re definitely worried about you. Heck, Zooble, Gangle and Kinger helped me get out of an adventure to check up on you; it’s just…”

“You’ve been spending so much time with me and you’re not influenced,” Ragatha pointed out.

Well, Pomni couldn’t argue with that. There were still many other issues with this seemingly spontaneous idea, but the more she thought about them the less sense her reasoning as to why they were even issues made. It was as if her mind was getting blurrier the more she tried to use her brain. She must’ve been tired from her previous meltdown.

“I guess you have a point.” She let out a sigh and smiled at the woman softly, but then… Did Ragatha have that wide grin on her face before? That didn’t matter right now; she needed some rest.

“Look, I know I haven’t been here in a while, but I should really go into my room and take a nap,” she explained.

“Oh, no worries, d̶e̶a̸r̴,” Ragatha replied, “have a nice sleep.”

“I’ll try. Thanks.” Pomni stood up and headed to the door. She grabbed the doorknob and turned back. “And I mean it, try thinking about yourself. It isn’t hard to care about you; me and at least three other people can agree on that.” Her smile widened as she opened the door. “And Ragatha? …I… Thank you for helping me through the attack, I really appreciate it. You’re a great friend.”

She then closed the door and stayed in the room.

She originally planned on finding Caine the moment she was outside. She was well aware that Ragatha didn't want that, however, Pomni was willing to do anything to help her stop hurting. She didn't care if Ragatha hated her for it–she was sure she would–she just wanted her friend to be safe.

But as much as she wanted that, she couldn't bring her body to go through with it. It was as if it didn't obey her.

“Don't leave me,” she remembered the doll's words. No, it wasn't a memory; it felt like someone just whispered in her ear.

That's crazy. It was just her imagination. Nothing else.

“Pomni, please. Don't leave,” Ragatha's voice begged her. It sounded so real. But there was no way Ragatha's whispers could reach her, right?

The more she thought about it, the more her mind was filled with white noise, static. And the longer that went on, the more that noise made sense to her as if it spoke to her.

“I'm scared,” one noise was much louder. Ragatha's voice.

Pomni's not leaving her again.

She let go of the doorknob and turned around to see the ragdoll still sitting on her knees, showing Pomni her back.

“Actually, can I stay here?” the jester asked, “I don't want you to be alone and…I'd also feel more comfortable with some company.”

“Why of course,” the doll replied, the huge grin remaining on her face. She got up and headed over to her bed. Reaching into her hair, she pulled out her bow and used it to tie her hair up in a ponytail.

“You can take a nap in my bed,” she said.

“Oh.” Pomni blushed a little, not only at the offer but also due to the redhead’s sudden hairdo change. Whatever it was, it had some strong influence on Pomni. "Thanks."

Once at her bed, Ragatha picked up the suit she was working on when Pomni first walked in. It was nearly done. It truly was clothing worthy of someone as powerful as her; someone with influence stronger than the ringmaster himself.

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plussizefantasia · 6 months

Text

Trick-Or-Treat

Flufftober Day 31: Trick or Treat

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1.3k

AN: Here it is. The last one shot of October. Thank you to everyone who has left comments and reblogs you guys are awesome. I'll be taking a short break (like two weeks) and will be back soon with some more stories including a multi-chapter Steve Harrington x reader story and plans for the 100-follower celebration that we earned at the beginning of the month. As always, reblogs and feedback are really appreciated.

divider credit @royallaesthetics

Bucky Barnes didn’t think very much of himself. Which is a real shame, considering he’s one of the most amazing men you’ve ever met. You wouldn’t have moved in together if he was a bad guy like he thought he was. The two of you had moved into a two-story townhouse in Brooklyn three months ago. Bucky really wanted to get close to his roots, especially after everything that happened. Steve had moved into an apartment about a block from you guys but split most of his time between the Avenger’s initiative and being home.

“Jamie, could you help me move the couch to the stoop please?’

‘Why are we taking our indoor furniture outdoors?”

“So that we have something comfy to sit on while we hand out candy.”

“We’re handing out candy? I thought we were just going to put it in a bowl and leave it outside the door.” Bucky was confused, and more than a little apprehensive.

“Jamie. Love of my life, this is what people who have houses do. They sit out on their porches and hand out candy to children in mediocre costumes for two hours while trying not to freeze. It’s a rite of passage.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re telling me that you didn’t do trick or treat in the olden days?”

“First of all, don’t call them the olden days. Second of all, trick or treating wasn’t really a thing until I was too old to participate, and even then, people had more things to worry about than handing out candy.”

“Why don’t you want to hand out candy, Jamie?”

“Because… it will be cold.”

“You’re literally a human furnace try again.” You lifted one eyebrow at him, trying your best to capture the essence of Roger’s ‘eyebrows of disappointment’ that he had practically trademarked.

“Doll, I just don’t think it's a good idea.”

“Why not Jamie? I won’t make you hand out candy if you don’t want to but I have a feeling that whatever reason you have in your silly little noggin for not wanting to isn’t really a good one.”

“What if they hate me?” He mumbled.

“What if who hates you, baby?”

“The kids. What if the kids are scared of me.”

“James Buchanan Barnes. You are a hero, you fought to bring back literally half of the population of the entire universe, anyone who is scared of you is an idiot.”

“That’s sweet doll, but I don’t want to ruin anyone’s night.”

“The only person’s night who is a risk of being ruined is mine. I don’t know how I’ll survive without my human furnace to keep me warm out there.” You batted your eyelashes at him. “Please, Jamie? Just try, if you hate it you can go back inside but I think you’ll have a lot of fun.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” You didn’t try to fight the smile that spread from ear to ear.

‘Yeah, doll. I’ll hand out candy with you.”

Bucky wasn’t sure about any of this. But you had asked so prettily and his therapist (someone you had found for him, not one of the shitty government-appointed ones) had told him that he needed to start pushing his boundaries. He figured that spending the night next to you and watching you be happy was as good of a way to start pushing boundaries as any. He had pulled the couch out into the space that was right in front of your door. He had helped you climb over the back of it with a huge bowl of candy after you realized that the couch had practically trapped you inside. Now the two of you were waiting. The night didn’t officially start until 8:00 so you had about fifteen minutes to go.

“Jamie?”

“Hmm?’

“I forgot my phone.”

“Okay?’

“Jamie?”

“Yes?”

“Could you go get my phone?” He let out a deep sigh and one of those old man grunts as he pushed himself up off the couch and climbed over it. He walked further into the house and you took your chance. “Hey Jamie?”

“Yes, Doll?”

“Since you’re inside… could you make me some hot chocolate?”

“Doll, if you wanted hot chocolate you could’ve just asked in the first place you didn’t need to send me on a quest for your phone.”

“I did actually leave my phone on the counter so it’s not like I lied.”

As Bucky was making your hot chocolate, the beginning few kids started emerging from their houses, parents behind them bundled up to counteract the chilly October night.

You saw a few clowns, some kids show characters that you didn’t really know the name of, and some funny pun costumes that you laughed at. But what really caught your eye was the trio of boys four houses down from yours, making their way down the street.

They couldn’t have been older than eight but their costumes were impeccable. They really were mini versions of your three favorite guys. A mini Captain America complete with a homemade cardboard shield, a mini falcon with swim goggles and a plastic redwing, and last but certainly not least a mini winter soldier whose arm was wrapped in tinfoil.

You had to resist the urge to actually scream, but you did let out a few overjoyed giggles.

“Jamie! James come quick!” You yelled into the house.

“You’re hot chocolate is almost done.” He yelled back.

“Who cares about the hot chocolate this is way more important!”

He started making his way towards the open door, “What is more important than hot choco-” He completely stopped. Frozen in his place looking at the three little boys making their way up your steps. “Holy Shit”

‘Language.” You replied.

Bucky practically launched himself over the back of the couch to meet the boys,

“Mom! Mom look! It’s Sergeant Barnes.” The boy with the tinfoil arm turned with a bright smile on his face. His mom was nearly as frozen as Bucky, most likely not expecting to run into a retired superhero on Halloween night.

With a smack from you, Bucky released himself from his stupor. “Hey little man, what’s your name?”

“George, but everyone calls me Georgie.” He said with the confidence of a kid who had rehearsed.

“Well Georgie, that’s a very nice costume you’ve got there.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes, Sir.”

“Call me Bucky, please.”

“Okay, Mr. Bucky, sir.” Both you and Bucky chuckled at that.

“I think a costume as good as that deserves some candy what do you think?” Bucky looked at you.

“Definitely, I think all three of these young heroes deserve their candy.”

You placed a handful into the Captain’s bucket, and the Falcon’s but let Bucky grab the candy for his mini-me. He grabbed two large handfuls and winked at the kid as he placed them inside his orange pumpkin bucket.

“Would you be okay with taking a picture?” Georgie’s mom asked.

“Absolutely!’ Bucky replied and pulled all three young boys in front of him. Kneeling behind them and giving a genuine smile.

Once pictures were done the parents got the boys to say goodbye and move on.

“There are more houses to go to Georgie, besides, I’m sure Mr. Barnes would like to be able to give candy to some other kids.”

“Okay Mom,” Georgie turned back to Bucky, “Thank you, Mr. Bucky, sir. You’re my hero.” He turned back away and skipped down your stairs and onto the next one like he hadn’t just broken your boyfriend.

The rest of the night went pretty similarly, with the occasional Avenger costume and star-struck kid. Bucky posing for pictures and actually enjoying it and you handing out way more candy per child than their parents were okay with.

Bucky’s smile never faded and he seemed to get more and more into it as the night went on.

“Hey Doll?” He asked when the two of you had finally returned your couch back to its rightful place.

“Yeah, Jamie.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You kissed him on the cheek. “You never did bring me my hot chocolate though.”

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apparentlytheproblem · 1 year

Note

so, i was listening to lover by taylor swift and that made me create a fictional scenario in my head (again) well the part where taylor says "And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me" reminds me of george weasley 😭 😭😭 (I'm still in love with him 🤧)

I would be very excited if you wrote a one shot where the reader is a friend of hermaione and they spend all their time together with harry and ron. At one point fred notices this and befriends the reader (let's assume george was not there when fred approached the reader)

In short, the reader is someone quite funny and has a really charming laugh. At a time before one of snape's classes begins. Harry Ron and Mione next to the reader burst out laughing and as almost everyone was silent some turned to the group responsible for such a "rumble" the twins looked attentive and one of them (cofcofgeorgecofcof) was perplexed to see someone as cute and adorable as the reader will laugh like this, ""the most beautiful laugh you've ever heard""

As the days go by, George gets Fred to include him in a conversation with the reader to get to know each other more.

George and the reader become good friends and whenever George has the chance to be around the reader he doesn't miss it.

The reader is the type of person who also listens to everything the other says (and since the reader had a secret crush on georgie he was comfortable hearing him tell any bad joke or funny anecdote.)

Once in the great hall at howarts george and the reader were talking animatedly. Fred noticed how the reader smiled more and more every time George spoke to him and he also saw how her brother looked at her as if she were seeing the most beautiful thing in the world.

Anyway, at the Christmas ball, George stumbles over her words when he wants to invite the reader, which she ends up accepting.

They dance together, have fun and have their romantic moment when at that moment Fred enters throwing hints at her brother and her friend to confess her feelings.

When the party ends. On the way to the rooms. The reader and geoge end up confessing in a somewhat embarrassing way stumbling over their own words as well. (I love these cheesy 😭💗💗)

And the reader steals a kiss on the lips from George before going to sleep. Leaving georgie with a face the color of a tomato.

I would like the reader to be female if it is not so much to ask hehe.

I'm sorry if he is too dense to read, I hope you can understand what I wrote, my native language is not English and I'm literally translating this, I'm so sorry 😭😭

At first I was embarrassed to request this because of how corny it is but OH GOD HOW I LOVE THE FRIENDS TO LOVERS TROPE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

P.S. I love how you write, it's very beautiful 💓

s m i l e s

fandom- Harry Potter

pairing(s)- george weasley

a/n: tysm for requesting this with so much detail, im gonna attempt it to do it justice and thank you for taking the trouble to write this all out for me

p.s i love you and this literally has me giggling and smiling

requested- yes

warnings- none i hope

Fred Weasley was a trouble maker. He was a see it and do it kind of learner. His sense of eyesight has never failed him and it never will. So what he saw infront of his eyes must be true, dear Georgie was falling in love.

You were maybe two years younger than the Weasley twins when Fred came running behind you to return your quill you forgot in the great hall. This caused a freindship to blossom and set the path of when the both of you would be in laws.

Hermione Granger had spent all day teasing about the wrong twin who's going to fall head over heels for you.

the five times Fred Weasley took notice of Georgie falling in love:

(1) shared portion class-

There were many things you couldnt do that would get you in trouble in potions with snape. But the one that lost you 10 points from your house was your laugh.

Last period on a hot friday evening was potions, but not just any class but the infamous joined classes with your senior year used to finish shared portions much quicker and that was the time where snape was most insuferable.

Sitting next to the trio was trouble in all kind of ways. When you couldnt contain a smile and laughed at everything indiscriminatley. Ron had retorted to one of snape's remarks had you giggling.

And that was when a certain weasley came into view or you to his. Georgie's head turned to the adorable laugh that filled his ears to face the most adorable girl he'd ever seen. Her nose was scrunched and shoulders lightly shaking and the prettiest smile stretching her lips.

And for once in his life he was speachless at the prettiest thing he's seen for all he could think was how he'd get drunk on that laugh everyday if he could have poured it all into a bottle and kept for himself.

As slick as georgie tried to be, fred noticed hid brother asking around for you, creating very difficult methods to get your attention and making the dumbest possible excuses to talk to you. That was the day freddie decides to play match maker.

(2) corny jokes-

"What did the fish say when he swam into the wall?" asked georgie looking very proud of himself. Fred did not know if it was because he managed to convince harry to let him beside her or of his new horrible joke he thought of all night.

"What?" you replied, looking as curious to hear. You took your concentration off your notes and paid attention.

"Dam, get it?"

You had tour head tilted back laughing that same damn way you did the first time and holy god.

(3) the look-

It was a saturday evening and almost no one was in the great hall. most on their way back from hogsmedge while a few stayed back. George and you had found your place is the corner of the grand table with the most exiting extanges. Freddie was maybe a few feet far, they 2 could never stay apart too long was having a great laugh with his batchmates. Turning around to share the joke with George he noticed the two extanging smiles and laughs and the twinkle they had in their eyes.

her smile could'nt get any bigger

and he couldnt look at anything with so much love

(4) dates-

You were a woman of many admirers, so why were you turning everyone down? Fred was hurting his head wondering if this would increase Georgie's confidence or inflate it.

To speak for you, you had made up your mind. if it wasnt Georgie then why bother?As much as you tried not to lead yourself on like this, how could you imagine anyone but him beside you. he'd be the only one you'd want to talk to when you're sad, the first to tell when you were happy over something, the someone who'd you'd hug and dance and twirl with. how could any other man compare when he was infront of you.

But when it comes to him it leaves you to be the confident one while he's a stumbling mess

"so uh..like i know..ball-"

"you asking me to the ball weasley?"

"uhr, not like that-"

"then like what love?"

"i mean like as- just us-"

"yes darlin"

(5) dancing

Swaying and stepping on eachother's feet kept both of you to keep bursting up with fits of laughter, but the star of the night? Fred.

He was always looming around dropping his comments to both of you playing the double agent.

"she looks so pretty in that dress, makes u wanna oohlala"

"georgie's eyes are so gliterry, you could get lost in them"

"her lips are pretty nice eh, you keep wandering around there"

"georgie is more than a nice arse, he could be your nice arse"

His words of aproval kept looming over eachother's conciousness. was it time, would i regret it? one thing leading to another, both of you found yourselves at the end of the night and the both of you were ready to take a leap of faith in the all might merlin who watches over you

"so-uh you know that you were- i mean are-"

"before you say anything, i uh-"

"m trying really hard here woman, you're- I like-"

"me- you like me georgie"

and with that he was utterly confused. how did she know? who told her? and then hit his realization. you liked him back too.

"you like me back"

"no shit sherlock"

you were trying very hard to keep your cool but georgie looked so kissable didnt he? and why not take a chance, might as well

you pressed him to a wall with your palm flattened next to him, caging him even if he was towering over you. with the other, you pulled his tie, pulling him in to a kiss to last a few mere seconds and walked away, leaving georgie looking as similar to a tomato

holy shit she kissed me

she kissed me

i have just been kissed-

341 notes · View notes

sdfgderp · 4 months

Text

a/n: ARGENTIIIIIIIIIIII ARGENTIIIIIIIIIII AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH screaming aside, i believe he is the type to compliment even the features you don’t really like about yourself 🥹 this beauty recognizing beauty in others no matter how they look… peak gentleman also notice how my word count on my posts are inconsistent, sometimes i don’t put them, sometimes i do… sorry!!! also this is obviously longer than the gepard one, so guess who’s my favorite 🤭

argenti x gn! reader

cw: insecurities, gardening with argenti, brutish planting (the plants are fine, dw), cheesy argenti, subtle pining…, you aren’t together in this one lol u just got friendzoned!!! (he didn’t mean it), reader is an unreliable narrator

word count: 800+

sanguine locks covered your peripheral vision as argenti bent down just above you. you were crouching down to dig dirt for the roses he nursed in nursery pots, and it was time to plant them down on the ground. you look up and meet argenti’s curious green eyes.

“do you not stick your spear to the ground, kick it to get soil out, drop the seedling, and stomp dirt on it, my muse?”

his question, though harmless, stuck a spear through your plant-loving heart. in what world do you plant roses that way?!

“no? argenti, is what i’m doing not the universal way of planting things?” you counter, gently taking out a seedling out of its seedling bag. “yours is… kind of sad and brutish.”

the knight crouches down beside you, pulling back the sleeves of his turtleneck. you loosen up the soil the seedling was clinging to and bury it in the hole you made, spraying it with water infused in fertilizer. you turn to your left and dig another hole for another rose bush seedling to plant. argenti observes your way of planting, his gaze following your hands.

you break the silence as you take out another seedling from its bag and put it down on the ground. “i’m curious though, do your plants live using that method, argenti?”

he nods, “yes they do. they grow up to be fruitful plants that grow beautiful flowers, fruits, or leaves.”

“again with the compliments on plants,” you sigh. you thought, do i have to turn into a plant to get praises…

“no you do not need to!” argenti replies immediately. you realized you spoke your words out loud and dismissed it. however, the knight was faster in talking than you. seeing your hands were busy, he started showering you compliments.

“beauty is everywhere, my muse, and that includes you! you need not to turn into a photosynthesizing creature for me to compliment you! are you not aware on how your hair is just right, even when you’re under the blazing heat of the star of your home planet system? do you fail to notice how gentle you’re holding that plant? or how you look in this posture, although it could use some work…”

argenti goes on and on, complimenting the features you usually scrutinize when he catches you checking yourself out in the mirror. the shape of your nose, your uneven skin tone, your body shape, even the hair on your toes… all while you were “busy” planting when you were just busying yourself to hide the massive blush raging on your face. the nerve of this guy to catch on to your insecurities and shower them with praises. beautiful, just what is beautiful for a knight of the beauty?

“…indeed, it is a blessing for the universe to have me here with you, friend. it is a pity you downgrade your perfectly arranged body just because it doesn’t fit this planet’s standards.” him saying friend for you sounded sour. “you were once like the roses you’re planting now, devoid of flowers but still pretty, your first leaves of development adorning juvenile features you now don’t have. and i think,” he pauses, tucking hair behind your ear to clear your vision. “you’ve grown to host a lot of roses.”

in your mind, fireworks shot through the sky at the last compliment argenti dropped. your face stoic, yet your mind had gremlins scampering around, yelling “oh great heavens! this guy is going to kill me!”, and “how dare he shower us in compliments! i love it! i’m going to explode!”

“hello? did the heat get you already?” argenti snaps you out of your daze. you shake your head.

“y-yeah, i think. let’s plant these later in the afternoon.” you plant the last seedling for the morning and put back the remaining seedlings in a cool area of your garden. argenti kept the gardening tools used before sitting down with you in the makeshift tent you two made. you took off your gloves and throw it aside, sitting down and wiping your sweat. argenti crouched down and passed you a waterbottle.

“i’ll do the planting later, my dear. now that i know the beauty of your way of planting, i can perfectly recreate it and grow rose bushes whose leaves that under that star’s light, and whose roses rival the color of my hair.”

argenti goes on for another ramble about beauty, fixated on roses. meanwhile, your mind began to wander in dangerous territory. for someone who’s not used to receiving meaningful compliments, argenti is starting to look like a potential crush for you. unbeknownst to you, the knight is waiting for you to take the hint already. as you debate your tiny crush on him, argenti is praying that the beauty that sits before him will grace him their company, to be his lifelong friend partner in searching for his aeon. that is to say, if he doesn’t believe his aeon is in fact, right beside him.

#honkai star rail #argenti honkai star rail #hsr argenti #argenti x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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amberjazmyn · 6 months

Text

matthew gray gubler one shot

𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 - what's so funny?

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 - none whatsoever

𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 - you were filming your boyfriend, matthew gray gubler for your Instagram story and he kept on messing up the introduction of his own name, making himself laugh over and over again.

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 - whilst i still haven't seen criminal minds, i'm falling in love with m.g.g and i will be making sure i watch criminal minds no matter what because i think i'm slowly starting to crush on dr spencer reid.

masterlist

- - -

"--i'm sorry babe!" matthew giggles as he burst out into laughter again in the middle of his sentence as you groan

"what is so funny, matthew?" you whine, lowering your phone as you stop filming him as he starts dying of laughter, heavily convinced that tears of laughter are now welling up in his eyes

"i don't know!" he giggles out as his entire body shakes as the laughs create the jerking movements as you couldn't help but also start laughing with your boyfriend

"you are such an idiot, matthew!" you say in between your giggles as you set your phone down, moving closer to your boyfriend who was standing in front of the white wall in front of your guys' office space

"but i'm your idiot," matthew speaks softly, fully recovered from his hysterical laughing fit, his mouth tickling the baby hairs that rest against your ear, making you flinch due to the ticklish sensation

"yes, that you are, my darling boy!" you whispered back, your arms resting against matthew's shoulders as he smiled brightly, pushing you closer to him, your eyes widening as you knew exactly where this was heading and, you were liking it

however, it seemed as if matthew was just being cheeky.

"do you think we could try again for your insta story?" matthew pulls back as you huff, rolling your eyes but nodded your head and smiled

"of course, we can baby! just, don't laugh at nothing again please!" you giggle out as he nods his head, not promising anything as you bite your tongue, giving your boyfriend a head-nod, letting him know you were filming

"...howdy, i'm matthew gray gubler and--" matthew just started hysterically laughing again

this then causes you to groan loudly and you flip the camera to your face as you shake your head, flipping back to matthew only to see him literally crying tears of laughter this time. his entire body folded in half, his arms around his stomach as he tries to stop his laughter at seemingly nothing.

"WHAT IS SO FUNNY MATTHEW?!" you screech, whining as you finish the instagram video as matthew's hysterical laughter is the last thing heard in the video before it stops for you had decided to post it to your story anyway - thinking that yours and his fans would find it hilarious

whatever matthew had found so funny was maybe never to be found out, however, every time you watched that video, it brought you unexplainable joy. whilst matthew couldn't explain why he was hysterically laughing in all of those failed instagram story attempts that had been saved to your camera roll, you couldn't explain why each one of them made you so happy and joyful. and, at the end of the day, the reasoning as to why no longer mattered was because it was your boyfriend in his happiest state of mind - with you, the love of his life.

- - -

decided to take a break with my spn boys and girls and do one for my favourite criminal minds actor. i may start to include some criminal minds actors and characters because i'm wanting to start watching it! so look out for some spn and criminal minds imagines!

ily xx

word count; 652

#matthew gray gubler x reader #fluff #matthew gray gubler my beloved

113 notes · View notes

edsloveydove · 2 years

Text

I Have Always Seen You

pairing: eddie munson x chubby female reader

summary: of course the boy i've known since 3rd grade, the one i've loved since 7th grade, would be the one to break my heart. i never thought he would be the one to fix it too...

warnings: bullying, fatphobia, use of the word pig towards reader once, falling off a bike, blood and cut knee from falling off said bike, self-doubt and sort of self-hate i guess, cursing, mentality that reader wouldn't be 'missed' (idk if thats a warning but just in case), no use of y/n, underage drinking, reader has an older brother for sake of the story (i gave him a really basic/common name), thoughts and flashbacks are in italics!! nickanames/pet names (shortcake, princess, honey, sweetheart), reader is at least a bit shorter than eddie, very poorly edited, talks of the demobats and upside down, again like very badly edited, lemme know if i missed anything, i'm sure i have!

word count: 9k+

notes: my first fic guys and it turned into this 9,000 word monster! wild! anyway, this might be trash i honestly don't know, i have no perception of it, pls let me know what you think!! also, this story is told in first person point of view so it uses 'i, me, myself' and all that, idk how i feel about it though tbh. uuuuh, enjoy!!

DON'T REPOST MY WRITING OR SHARE IT TO OTHER PLATFORMS (including mentioning it in tiktok comment sections and stuff like that pls) THIS IS MY WRITING, DON'T STEAL IT PLEASE!

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The sweltering midwestern heat was hitting Hawkins, Indiana early this year. School had only been out for a few weeks and it was already hot enough to have the city pool passing the max capacity damn near every day.

Luckily for me, I had been able to successfully avoid going every time my friends have asked me to join them. Until now.

“C’mon, it’s gonna be so much fun! Steve’s parents are gone again, like usual, so it’ll just be us and a few other friends!” Robin tries to convince me through the phone.

“Robin, I never believe ‘just us and a few friends’, because it is ne-”

“It’s never just a few friends, I know. But this time it really will be just a few people. Like, actually just a few people. After everything that happened during spring break and all that, Steve really just wants the main guys there. There’s not gonna be any crazy partying, we’re gonna swim and relax, that’s it.”

“I don’t know, I might be busy tomorrow,” I attempt an excuse.

“Then we’ll move it to when you’re free. We really want you there, you haven’t gone to any of our movie nights or other hangouts yet,” Robin points out while saying my name softly. “Is it something else? Is there someone you don’t want there?”

Robin isn’t entirely wrong, there is something else that’s keeping me from joining my friends. And technically it does have to do with someone, but not in the way she thinks. And that someone happens to be none other than the Eddie Munson.

I’ve known Eddie for many years. My older brother was one of his best friends while growing up having met in elementary school. James was in the grade above Eddie, and the one to introduce him to D&D, eventually passing on the title of Hellfire Club President to him as well. I was always in the background, hoping my brother would let me learn how to play just so I could impress him and his friends.

While they were occupying the basement, getting pizza and bottles of Coke every other Saturday for their stupid role-playing game, I was in my room reading trashy romance novels and out riding my bike to the library in hopes to seem cool when I came back late at night.

By the time I got to high school, it was James’ second to last year before he went off to college in Chicago on his big-shot football scholarship he managed to snag before he was even a senior. And yes, James was a Hellfire nerd and a star-athlete, so no one messed with their little club while he was there. Eddie was in his sophomore year, already antsy to graduate and move on to greater things.

I was just the outcast that didn’t even have a group. It didn’t matter that I was the captain of the football team’s little sister, I never made any friends because I never tried to.

Needless to say, yeah, Eddie and I had some history and maybe things got brought up when Vecna was trying to take over the world that might have been better left untouched. And maybe the idea of seeing him again brings butterflies to my stomach while also making my gut sink.

“No, it's not that. I just…I guess I just haven’t been feeling it since…since yanno,” I say, half heartedly.

Robin voices her understanding and tells me to just call back when I make a decision on if I would go or not. I promise her I will and hang up the phone. It’s not like I didn’t want to see them, because truly I did but it also wasn’t a complete lie when I told her I hadn’t been feeling quite right since the Venca situation.

It was a really traumatic and horrible experience for everyone involved, and really astonishing that everyone made it out alive.

‘Maybe I should just go…but what if it’s horrible? I know none of my lovely friends would ever say anything to me about it, but I just can’t stand the thought of them seeing me in a swimsuit, especially Eddie.’ I shake my head at the thought. ‘What a stupid thing to think, god, we all nearly died and I’m worried about my stomach in a swimsuit, how shallow is that? I guess some things just never change, no matter the life threatening situation…’

I go about my nighttime routine, washing my face and making sure no lights have been left on around the house. I say goodnight to my mother and fall right asleep. Or, I try to at least.

But my mind keeps me up for much longer than I would have hoped.

‘It would be a good time, though. Have a couple of beers, spend the night in one of Steve’s nice guest bedrooms. I wouldn’t even have to swim, I could just say I’m on my period or something. Ugh, but Robin knows that I always swam even on my period when we were younger. I’ll just wear a suit under my clothes and pretend the water is too cold even though it’s the peak of summer? Yeah, that should work. I can’t imagine anyone will care that much anyway if I’m not in the pool with them. I really do miss my friends.’

The next morning I call Robin and tell her I’ll be there tonight. She squeals in delight and tells me how happy she’ll be to see me.

Now it was just time to pick out an outfit, should be simple enough, right?

Well, after leaving it to the last second and now only having about 15 minutes to get to Steve’s when it’s already a five minute drive, having half of my closet strewn about my room doesn’t seem like a very good place to be at.

I finally sigh and opt for a swim suit from the summer before that I never wore, a green one piece with a wrapped sort of style for the top portion, and black cut off shorts and an old t-shirt that fits comfortably loose over it.

I grab my keys and kiss my mother on the forehead, reminding her I wouldn’t be back till the next morning.

Several shouts of my name reach my ears once I reach Steve’s backyard, it does bring a small smile to my face knowing I’ve been missed just as much as I’ve missed them.

“You’re actually here, I’m so happy to see you!” Nancy says pulling me in for a hug, Robin joining on top, squishing us all together.

“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s been a while. I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t have to be sorry, it’s been a really hard year,” Nancy says sincerely.

Steve comes up for a hug next, squishing me for dear life, I could feel him about to try to lift me up and spin me around so I pull away rather abruptly.

“Alright, alright, it’s nice to see you, too, Steve.”

He answers with a kiss to the cheek and makes me promise that I’ll come to the next hangout and every one after that. I see Jonathan and he waves with a small awkward smile.

Finally my eyes meet Eddie’s.

“James! James! C’mon, come outside and play with me!” It was nearing the end of summer before James would go back to school for his 8th grade year and I would be going into 6th grade.

“Not right now, can’t you see that I’m busy? I’m too old to play outside anyway,” my brother rolls his eyes.

I hop down the stairs so I can see the basement fully now. Spotting all of my brother's friends huddled around our dinky old card table while he has books and notepads sprawled on his end.

“Well, can I at least play your game with you guys? I’m sure I can learn it fast!” I beam, faking confidence in hopes to sway them.

“No offense, shortcake, but it’s probably too confusing for you. Besides, we’re right in the middle of a campaign, it would be too hard to add in another character out of the blue right now,” Eddie says with a chuckle, like the idea that I could play is too amusing to even consider.

Naturally, I take full offense.

“Fine! You’re all so annoying, I didn’t even want to play with you anyway. Especially not with someone who has a buzzcut!” I stick my tongue out at them and run away, but not before I can hear them laughing.

Sitting alone in my room I know it was childish of me, especially for my age. James was probably right, he was too old to be outside playing tag with his sister. I was too old to be throwing a tantrum like this over some friends wanting to spend time with each other without one’s little sister hanging around.

“Hey, Munson.”

Eddie nods his head in greeting and goes back to talking with Jonathan. Well, that’s honestly about as much interaction as I expected to get from him tonight.

“Alright, let’s get this party started!” Robin exclaims, dragging you toward the cooler filled with ice and drinks, I grab a Sprite to start with.

2 hours later and my Sprite is still mostly untouched and it’s now gone lukewarm. The others are in the pool splashing and playing chicken, I sit on the side with my feet dangling into the shallow end, watching as they fool around and laugh. Giggles and quiet laughs leave my lips on occasion with them.

“You should get in, the water’s really nice!” Nancy says.

“Yeah! Strip for us and get in here,” Robin adds, making everyone laugh.

“You guys just want to get me out of my clothes, don’t you?” I play it off, shaking my head slightly. Giggles erupt again. I excuse myself to the bathroom after pulling my legs out of the pool.

Closing and locking the door behind me I look at myself in the mirror.

‘I should just get in the pool, shouldn’t I? I do feel like I’m missing out on what could be a lot of fun. And it wouldn’t hurt to wash all this sweat off of me. I could just keep my shirt on, I have an extra change of clothes as backup anyway.’

I finish my business and leave the bathroom.

After turning the corner to go back to the pool I run straight into something firm, nearly being toppled over before hands are at my forearms to keep me from doing so. Seeing dark curls fanning across this “something’s” shoulders and several patches of dark ink on its bare skin, I immediately know I have just run head first into Eddie. Great.

“Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” I murmur, keeping my eyes pointed down.

“It’s alright, shortcake. No harm done right?” he says, adjusting his head to try to catch my eyes.

I nod my head and pull away from his hands that still rest gently on my arms.

“Hey, hey, what’s up? You’re so quiet tonight, is everything okay?”

I nod again and pull away harder, rushing out the door to get back to the pool, ignoring his call of my name and a request to “just hold on a second.”

Pulling my shorts off quickly, I step up to the pool and begin to wade into the water before Robin stops me.

“Your shirt! You don’t want the chlorine to ruin it!”

My heart thumps, thinking of how I can handle this. My mouth opens to say something but before I can, Robin cuts me off.

“Just take it off, no one’s gonna make fun of you for being in your swimsuit and if they do I’ll beat them up for you and then we’ll all collectively agree to throw them out of the group. And don’t try to tell me that’s not what it is, I can see it all over your face. You’re allowed to have fun and go swimming, I don’t like to see you excluding yourself, no matter the reason,” she says.

Of course she would see right through any lie I could throw her way. That’s just how Robin is. No matter how clumsy she can be, she really is observant. Not only that, but she’s right. Nobody cares and if they do, that’s their problem.

I rip off my shirt and dive into the pool trying to minimize the time in which people could see me without it. Immediately finding Steve’s legs I yank his ankles so he falls backwards into the water with an unnecessarily loud screech.

It makes the rest of us laugh loudly until Steve comes back up for air with a thirst for vengeance. He chases me around the pool, not for long considering he’s such a strong swimmer and I’m really not trying very hard to get away from him, and catches me easily. His arms wrap around my waist and I cringe as his hands nudge my stomach, scolding myself for the action right after. Steve doesn’t care about my stomach, if he did, he wouldn’t be my friend.

“That really wasn’t very nice,” Steve says and starts lifting me out of the water.

“Steve, hey. Steve! Steve, no, I’m too heavy! Stevie, no! Bad Stevie! Bad!”

I’m thrown in the air as far as he can get me and I splash back down.

I come up spluttering for breath, “Oh, you are so dead, Harrington!”

All at once the rest of us are splashing and dunking him over and over, until he pleads mercy. Shrieks and squeals of glee and what might be considered laughter fill the air as everyone gets their turn being thrown into the water.

Eddie comes back out from the house and cannonballs in the middle of our ‘hate on Steve’ fest.

Eventually I end up back on the side of the pool in my shirt with just my feet in, this time so I can enjoy a fresh soda and mellow out a little, not to make myself smaller. Nancy and Jonathan have called it a night already, leaving Steve, Eddie, and Robin in or by the pool with me.

“I never noticed this scar? Where did you get it?” Robin points to my knee.

The nice old librarian put a hand on my shoulder gently to get my attention, telling me the library would be closing soon and it was best I head home, I hadn’t realized how late it already was. I pack everything together as fast as I can, quickly saying goodnight and unlocking my bike, trying my hardest to race home before the sun sets.

The wheels of my rickety bicycle pump faster and faster and in my haste I bump over a high curb without realizing, flying off and onto the pavement.

Tears spring to my eyes as air is sucked in through my teeth. I take a look at my knee and see a small dribble of blood seeping down it, my hands have little scrapes all over, spotted with little beads of red.

Not the worst I could have gotten from a bike incident, but bad enough to keep me from being able to ride the rest of the way home. It’s not far, but so much for getting back before the street lights turn on.

About 15 minutes later I make it into our backyard, dropping the two wheeled contraption from hell into the grass and stumbling through the door, all while sniffling back sobs.

“Oh hey, shortcake! James was starting to get worried about you, you really shouldn’t walk alone at night yanno? Next time ju-” Eddie cuts himself off after seeing the state I’m in. Of course he had to be the one to see me like this. Anyone else could have been sent on snack duty tonight, but it just had to be him.

“Oh my god, what happened?” He walks up to me.

I shrug my shoulders and look away. I catch a glimpse of how bad my knees and hands have gotten on the walk home. Blood drips down both knees, my left knee looking significantly worse than the right. Dirt and pebbles cover my palms along with streaks of crimson.

“Don’t do that, sweetheart. Tell me what happened? Please?”

I still don’t say anything, fresh, hot tears welling up and already spilling out. I refuse to let stupid Eddie Munson see me like this, all it would be is more leverage to make fun of me with.

He pulls my hand gently until I’m sitting down. Eddie appears in front of me with a first aid kit a few seconds later, carefully cleaning the gashes on my knees and scrapes on my hands with alcohol wipes.

“Did,” he lets out a shuddering breath, “Did someone hurt you?”

“No, god no Eddie, I just-, god this is so embarrassing, I just fell off of my bike is all,” I mutter, not really wanting him to hear the words as they come out.

“S’ not embarrassing, stuff like that happens. I just wish you would have told me, here I was thinking the boys and I were going to have to band together to cause hell for our favorite little goblin,” he says.

“You’re just trying to make me feel better, you guys wouldn’t really do that, I guess James might. Most of you guys don’t even really like me that much anyway, you don’t have to lie,” I whisper.

“That’s not true! Of course we would stick up for you!” he says like he’s shocked that I would think the opposite.

I just shrug my shoulders again and wipe my eyes, still avoiding looking him in the face.

“Here, let me help you up to your room. That can’t feel good to walk on,” he pulls me up from the chair and goes to lift me into his arms. I jump out of his reach before he can.

“It’s okay, I got it. Just- you better get back downstairs before they start worrying. I’ll take care of myself.”

“What? No, you’re basically limping just standing here, shortcake, let me carry you, it’ll only take a minute?” He phrases it like a question. Asking but also sort of demanding.

The idea is actually really nice, and I want to say yes to it. It would be like when the prince finally gets the princess in all those books I’ve read. Eddie could sweep me off of my feet and whisk me away.

But I know better, I know that he wouldn’t be able to lift me. Even if he could he wouldn’t so much as glance at me, again, I’m just his friend's little sister. Here only because this is where she lives.

“No thank you, I’m okay. Go ahead and go back to your game, I’m sure they miss you already. Nobody would even notice if I were gone, but they’ll practically riot without you,” I try to cover how deeply I believe those words with a laugh as I wobble away and halfway up the stairs before he can stop me.

“Um, I guess I don’t really remember. It’s probably just one of those super old scars you forget are even there,” I say, even though I recall the night I got it vividly.

Eddie’s eyes meet mine from the other side of the pool and they look almost…hurt at the possibility that I might not remember that day. Well, he didn’t get to feel hurt about it. He made it clear that he doesn’t care how I feel when we were in the upside down.

“Hmmm, yeah, I have, like, tons of those actually,” Robin says, “This one is from my cat, Steven, and this one-”

“You have a cat named Steven?” I cut her off. She gives me a look that says ‘duh’.

“But what about Steve? Like human Steve? Was this before or after you became friends? And how has this never come up before?” I practically shriek.

“Believe me, it has come up before. And yes, before she tells you otherwise, it was after we became friends,” Steve says, settling down beside me while throwing his arm around my shoulders.

“That is not true! I found him outside the mall before we became friends! We may have been working together at that point, but we were not friends yet!” Robin shouts.

“We were friends, she’s just embarrassed that she named her cat after me,” Steve whispers in my ear, making me giggle like a schoolgirl.

Even though I’ve never seen Steve romantically, he still had the ability to reduce me to feet kicking and hair twirling.

“What’s wrong with you, Munson?” Steve asks, noticing the scowl covering his face that usually carries a bright smile.

Eddie shakes his head, “Nothing man, just thinking about how I don’t have a beer in my hand right now.”

A call of my name breaks my gaze away from the mirror.

“You almost ready? It’s time to go!” James yells, entering my room. “Hey! You look great! It almost feels like I’m sending you off to prom already,” he says wiping fake tears from his cheeks.

I shove him in the chest and readjust my hair and the straps to my dress for what feels like the millionth time. It was a rather simple looking thing considering I had to sew it myself since the only dresses even near my size were too far out of theme for the 8th grade Winter Snowball or they were simply just ugly.

Light blue and white fabric lays delicately across my shoulders and down to my knees, matched with white slip on shoes and silver snowflake jewelry.

“You look really nice, seriously. I know how nervous you are, but it’s gonna be okay, I promise,” my brother assures me, slapping my shoulder much harder than necessary to push me towards the door, “Now it’s time to get your butt moving, let’s go!”

When we arrive at the dance I immediately catch eyes with Robin and speed walk to her. James goes wherever he's needed for volunteering.

After about 45 minutes the first slow song of the night comes on as I sit contently by myself at the far end of the bleachers. I wasn’t sad to not be dancing with anyone, I was honestly sort of relieved that I hadn’t had to dance all night. But watching all the couples on the dance floor does make my heart ache just a little.

“I haven’t seen you dance all night, what’s that about?”

“Why are you here?”

“Ouch, shortcake, I don’t even get a hello? And what, I can’t come volunteer with your brother?” Eddie says, fake hurt painting his face.

“It just doesn’t seem like you, I guess.”

He sits down next to me leaving at least enough room for another person to sit between us. He hands me an unopened juice box.

“Seriously though, why aren’t you out there? You don’t have someone you wanna get cozied up with on the dancefloor?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me in his typical annoying Eddie way.

I roll my eyes, as my stomach twists with shame. He’s mocking me, isn’t he?

“Nope. I’m okay with it though. Honestly I was perfectly happy just sitting here. Until you showed up that is,” I say with a shrug.

“Oh really? Well, gosh, who made you such a sour fart?” he laughs as I push him in the arm.

“Alright, c’mon then. Pity party is over, let's go do this,” Eddie holds out his hand and raises a brow when all I do is look at it confused. “Let’s go dance, shortcake, you should at least once before it’s over.”

“Um- I-” I’m at a loss for words. There’s no way he’s being anything but friendly but my stupid heart skips too many beats to count.

“Here, I need to go check on James and see how the other volunteers are doing. While I take care of that, I want you to sit here and decide if you want to dance with me or not. Of course, I won’t make you do anything you don’t wanna, but if you’re up for it, I’m here,” he says, bouncing back to the drinks and snacks table. I smile giddily at his back and stay sitting.

By the time the last song of the night played I was still in the exact same spot I had been for nearly 2 hours, waiting for Eddie to come back.

Immediately after he left, I knew I wanted to dance with him. Of course I would. I’ve known him since I was in 4th grade and have had a crush on him for a year now. All I had to do was wait a few minutes and I would get to live out a fairytale dream. Dancing across the room in a flowey dress with the guy I liked. Of course it would be strictly platonic on his end but it could mean something more to me silently.

So there I sat, with my empty juice box, tapping my foot in excitement. The first slow song ended and there was no sign of Eddie, but I was sure he just caught up with volunteer work. After the next 3 songs played I began to doubt myself slightly.

‘Maybe he hadn’t actually wanted to dance like it had seemed. But he looked really sincere when asking me. Yeah. And even if Eddie is just a regular teenage boy, and he can definitely be a jerk sometimes, he’s much sweeter and kinder than most. He wouldn’t leave me hanging like that. He’ll be back any minute now, I’m sure.’

By the time 11 more songs had played, I knew he wasn’t coming back. Tears were smearing my mascara while I sat as still as possible on the bleachers, not wanting to draw any attention to myself.

Of course he wasn’t being serious. He just wanted to tease me like usual, the only difference was this time it went too far. This time he was cruel about it. He could have just told me he didn’t mean it. Instead he strung me along and had me sitting here like a lovesick puppy for an hour straight.

Who was I kidding? Eddie couldn’t be interested in me. He was my brother's best friend and had seen me grow up. I was just his friend’s chubby little sister. Wearing a dress that doesn’t sparkle and shine like all the others’, sitting alone and pouting like a baby.

He probably thought I would crush his feet if I accidentally stepped on them.

After persevering through another hour of horror, James finds me in my corner ready to head home.

“All ready to go?” he asks jovially like he always seems to be.

“Yes.”

James picks up on my mood right away, but I’m already halfway to the car before he can say anything.

“Okay, uh, I gotta clean up some stuff still but here,” he throws me his car keys when I turn back around, “Go get the car started yeah?”

I nod and head out to the car when I see Eddie jogging up to the doors after me. My steps speed up hoping for all hell to avoid him. He calls my name but I don’t look back or slow down, in fact, the only thing it succeeds in doing is making me walk faster.

My hands shake as I try to slip the key into the driver’s side door handle. Warm hands settle on my wrists.

“Holy shit, I am so sorry, shortcake. I was so excited to dance with you, I really was, I just got caught up in helping another volunteer with something and lost track of time. I didn’t mean to forget you there all alone, I swear on everything. I know how excited you were for tonight and I am so sorry. I didn’t realize how long I had been gone until everyone started leaving and then I saw you get up and realized what I’d done, please forgive me,” he rambles off almost too quickly to understand.

I expect tears but all I get is a deep rooted feeling of shame and anger. Ashamed by the fact that I thought he would come back and angry at myself for sitting there hopelessly when I could’ve danced with Robin at least.

“Please, look at me. Please tell me you at least got to dance with someone else, right? You had a good time? Please tell me you at least had fun,” he pleads.

A scoff escapes me as I whirl on him.

“No, I didn’t dance with someone else, I sat there and I waited for you. I waited for you the whole time, and I guess that was my first mistake wasn’t it, huh? I believed you. I really thought you meant what you said to me.”

I rip my arms out of hold.

“You know what’s funny, too? I was actually having a really good time before you showed up. I told you as much earlier, even. I was perfectly happy to sit by myself, considering that’s how I spend most of my time anyway. I was really enjoying just watching the lights and the twirl of dresses, alone. I was overjoyed to just sit and watch Robin dance with her friends. And you had to come and- and lie to me! You made me feel special for fuck’s sake.”

His eyes flash with guilt and he must have finally realized how much he hurt me.

“I get that I’m not the prettiest and skinniest girl and I know that most of those kids don’t even know my name, but you do! You know me. You know me and you still forgot about me,” I pause and take a deep breath, “Do you remember what I said that night when I fell off my bike?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Nobody would even notice if I were gone. Nobody, not even you, I guess. You forgot about me not even 5 minutes after making me feel like the most special girl in that whole damn room. And that was really mean, Eddie. I hope you, at least, have a good rest of your night,” I step into the car and start the engine.

Steve plops down next to me holding 4 cans of beer, one for each of us.

“I’m really happy I came tonight, thank you, for inviting me and not forgetting about me after I kinda disappeared,” I say quietly.

Steve pats my back while Robin says something along the lines of ‘duh, of course we would never forget about you.’

Eddie stays silent, watching me closely.

I put my drink on the ground beside me and lay on my back, pulling my shirt down to make sure it covers me still. I start to count the stars, just to keep my brain occupied. My eyes drift shut, my mind choosing to visit yet another memory tonight.

It was James’ graduation party. All we had were a couple tables set up with snacks in the backyard and a bonfire, nothing too fancy. I made a simple ‘Happy Graduation!’ banner to hang across the gate for everyone to see, too.

I’m wearing a plain white sundress and converse, I knew I would be running back and forth from the backyard and the kitchen too much for heels to be sensible. Making sure there’s enough drinks and food and ice for everyone was my job tonight. The sun is still up, melting the ice and warming every drink out here.

James calls my name softly, “You can quit running around and tending to every little need. Come hang out with everyone for a little bit. Please?”

I set down the metal tub where drinks are kept and walk over to sit around the fire with him and his usual friends. New faces have popped up over the years, but many stayed the same. Danny Williams, a junior who may or may not have been my first kiss when we happened to both show up at the same party and ended up playing spin the bottle together, Jason Carver, a freshman who appeared promising on the football team before switching to basketball instead, Michael Brown, a senior who’s been in the little Hellfire Group since the beginning. There are several others I don’t recognize and even more that I do.

Of course, Eddie is there too. I just haven’t really…acknowledged him in…in a really long time.

I haven’t necessarily been giving him the silent treatment, but I stopped entertaining the conversations he always seemed to start with me.

Danny greets me with a smile as he sits down next to me. He even pulls his lawn chair a little closer towards mine, grinning slightly while doing so.

“What can I do for you Danny?” I say.

“Oh nothing. I just wanted to come sit by you, is all.” Huh. That…that sort of stumps me.

I didn’t think Danny would even recognize me at the party, and I’m honestly even more surprised that he wanted to talk to me after kissing me. We make small conversation, butting into the rest of the group's discussion once in a while to add an opinion.

Night had fallen and marshmallows and graham crackers were brought out for s'mores, as well as a couple of 12 packs of beer that someone had brought with them.

I knew James had gone to several parties to celebrate winning a football game where there had been alcohol, or even just little get-togethers where it was provided. I guess now that it was only soon-to-be seniors and high school graduates, minus myself, left at the party it was time for that portion of the night to begin.

I stand up to go in and let the others have their fun.

“Where’re you going?” Danny asks, grabbing my hand lightly, looking up with wide puppy dog eyes. His eyes are a pretty green color. Brown eyes have always been my favorite, though.

“Oh, I was just going to head in and call it a night. That way you all could have your fun without worrying about me dragging you down.”

My comment makes his brows furrow, his mouth opens to say something, but he’s cut off.

“You can stay out here, you know. No one minds having you here and I’m sure dear old James doesn’t care if you partake in a little drink, do you?” Eddie states. When did he get so close to us?

“Even if I did care she gets to do what she wants, man. As long as you're safe about it, go for it,” James says, patting my back and taking one for himself.

I’ve never drank before, but what the hell? James was leaving in just a few weeks now and this might be my only chance to try it. It’s certainly one of my last chances to hang out with everyone like this, at least for a while.

After just 2 cans my tongue had already loosened significantly. Danny and I had been talking and giggling the whole time until he had gotten up to go home since his designated driver was ready to leave.

“So, you and Danny seem pretty close suddenly?” Eddie phrases it like a question, wanting more information on the subject.

Usually I would just hum in what could be taken as agreement or disinterest but my mind was running a little slower than normal.

“Yeah, he and I kinda ran into each other at a party that I kinda crashed with Robin and we ended up, like, kissing and stuff,” I giggled. “But shhhh, don’t tell anyone else.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, but that could have been a trick of the light.

“What, uh, what do you mean by ‘and stuff’?”

“Oh nothing. We just had one teensy tiny kiss because we were playing spin the bottle,” I say, not really thinking about it.

Now I really know my brain is playing tricks on me because for a second I think Eddie looks pleased with this new knowledge that it didn’t really mean anything.

“I feel like we haven’t really talked in a long time. What’s, uh, what’s been up, lately?”

The question itself is awkward, but the way he struggled through it made it even more awkward.

“I’ve been regular old me, Eddie. Nothing new or exciting. Although I did finish a book last night that really threw me through a loop. Oh! Actually there is something exciting! Do you wanna hear it?”

He smiles, “Of course I do, shortcake.”

“Well,” I take another sip of what is now my third beer, “William Gillar and Stacy Johnson have finally graduated!” I let out a squeal.

Eddie just looks at me confused.

“Do you have any idea what this means, Eds? I am finally free of those two asshats for the rest of my high school experience! Isn’t that amazing! I mean, it was easier to ignore this year than last year, but god I am so thrilled! No more mean notes from them calling me a pig in my locker and book bag, I can even finally find a table to sit at for lunch instead of hiding in Mr. Steerwell’s class,” I sigh happily.

“Do you wanna know what else they did? This is so silly! They used to catch me on my walk home from school and steal my library books. How stupid is that? Why would you steal someone’s library books, right? They would run around with it so I would chase after them and then laugh at how my body would jiggle. How funny, right? I am so happy they’re gone, Eds, you have no idea.”

Eddie has his mouth halfway open, anger flaring in his eyes. But that couldn’t be right, why would he care about a couple of high school bullies.

“No, that’s not funny or silly. That’s been going on this whole time? And you didn’t tell anyone? God, why wouldn’t you tell someone, sweetheart? That’s horrible,” he says.

“Meh, it’s just normal high school bully stuff.” I wave my hand in dismissal.

��No, it’s not. Bullying shouldn’t even be considered normal anyway, but what they did to you? That goes far beyond normal, shortcake. I wish you would have said something. You know James and I would’ve taken care of them for you, right?”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter now, does it. It’s too late,” I dismiss him and his misplaced worry. Honestly, it was nothing I couldn’t handle. He must have sensed how much I didn’t want to talk about it anymore because he dropped it.

The night moves quickly after that, people say their goodbyes as James takes over clean up duty, considering I can barely stand up without nearly falling asleep.

“Eddie, will you take her in and make sure she gets into bed okay?” James asks.

That’s how I find myself being semi-dragged up the stairs to my bedroom and thrown on the mattress like a sack of potatoes. I don’t think Eddie was half as rough as my brain made it seem, to be honest.

“Eds?” I whisper looking down at Eddie who’s kneeling by feet, gently taking my shoes off.

“Yeah?”

A couple beats of silence pass where I try to figure out how to word what I’m thinking.

“I forgive you.” His movements stop. “I hope you know that. It’s probably such a silly little thing to even remember but I forgive you for forgetting to dance with me. I probably would have forgotten me, too. And…and I am sorry. I really am, for pushing you away so hard after. It was really stupid of me and I wish I hadn’t. Robin is a good friend, but you’re kind of the closest thing I’ve ever had to a best friend, I think. And I threw that all away over hurt feelings. Puberty, am I right?” I giggle.

“S’ not silly to remember that. And you weren’t being stupid, sweetheart. You were hurt, you were protecting yourself and I don’t blame you for that. I should never have even walked away from you that night, but I did. And I don’t deserve your forgiveness for it,” Eddie says.

More words mumble out of his mouth but none of it registers. Soon the noise stops and I feel Eddie’s warm hands pull my shoes all the way off, pushing my legs onto the bed and turning me to lay comfortably on my stomach.

He must remember that’s my favorite way to sleep.

My mind must really hate me because I swear, right before I fall asleep, I feel lips pressing gently to my forehead while a guitar calloused hand pushes hair away from my eyes.

Of course, that didn’t actually happen because that’s not something Eddie would do. Right? Yeah, he wouldn’t…

A timid shake to my shoulder pulls me from my dozing.

“Hey, shortcake, it’s time for you to go in.”

There’s only one person who’s ever called me by that nickname.

“Hm, it’s been a while since you’ve called me that…Eds.”

I don’t know what made me decide to use his nickname. It never seemed right to use it after we drifted so far apart when James left.

Eddie helps pull me to my feet.

‘Hmmm, he’s always been a lot stronger than he looks. I barely even lifted myself up for him.’

“Oh, now you wanna be all friendly again? Using a nickname and everything? What’s this all about, huh?” Eddie says, steadying me with his calloused hands when my legs wobble.

My brows furrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Earlier, when we were in the house. You practically ran away from me. I mean, it’s just that we…we haven’t seen each other since we went into the upside down. I thought maybe,” he lets out a long breath. “Maybe things had changed or something, I guess. I was hoping we could talk about it after we all got out but you’ve been avoiding everyone.”

“And why is that? Why do you think things would have changed Eddie?”

“No! No, no, no! Edward Munson, if you cut that rope, so help me god!”

“You know I always love when you use my full name.”

And the bastard cuts the rope.

The next thing I know, he’s out of the trailer doing something entirely too heroic and the exact amount of stupid he always is.

Before I can think I shove Dustin out of the trailer, the one not in the upside down, and send him to go help Lucas.

“No! We need to help him! Can’t you see that he needs help!”

“I know Dustin, I know. That’s why I’m staying here. But I need you to go find Lucas and Erica and check on Max. There are others who still need our help, Henderson. Please, listen to me and go help them.”

I turn back into the trailer before he can disagree again, locking the door to make sure he doesn’t follow. Without second guessing, I jump through the portal, landing somewhat safely on my side.

I manage to find a bike and just a few minutes later I’m riding as fast as I can towards the bat tornado that Eddie stands in the middle of.

“Eddie you dumb jerk, you better not be getting yourself killed!” I scream at the top of my lungs. His eyes catch mine as a look of horror crosses his face.

“Why the hell did you follow me? I specifically told you not to!”

“Yeah, well I specifically told you not to cut the rope!”

We fight off the bats as best we can until they all suddenly drop to the ground.

Eddie and I stand breathing hard, our brains trying to catch up with all of what just happened. Eddie turns to me, a grin beginning to form.

I punch him as hard as I can in the chest. And then I do it again, and then again and again, until I’m pounding my fists against his chest over and over again.

“What the hell?! Honey, stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

I choke on hiccupping sobs as hot tears overflow past my lashes.

“Don’t you ever do something like that again! Ever!”

Eddie grabs my wrists to keep me from hitting him anymore. I keep trying until I realize his hold on me is too strong.

“Princess, you gotta stop. I don’t want to see you hurt anymore, please stop.”

He wraps his arms around me, stroking the back of my hair, pressing soft kisses to my forehead.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay. We’re okay, I promise.”

“That was not okay, Eddie. Not okay!” I tell him looking up into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I really am. But look, we did it!”

He looks down at me thoughtfully. His eyes flit down to my lips. My breath catches.

He couldn’t possibly be…

His lips are on mine. And Eddie Munson is kissing me.

Both of his hands are on the side of my face, rubbing his thumbs softly across the apples of my chubby cheeks.

I pull away, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Kissing my shortcake,” he says with a smirk while I grimace at the phrase. He laughs at the face I make and kisses me again.

I kiss back harder this time, getting lost in all things Eddie. The way his hair feels soft even despite being so dirty. His lips are somehow minty. He smells like smoke and old books.

My heart soars. This has to be proof, then. Eddie must think of me the way I think of him. I can’t imagine ever kissing someone with this much passion if it didn’t mean something more. I smile into the kiss.

Footsteps sound behind where we stand and Eddie pushes me off of him, placing several feet between us. I look at him confused and hurt by his sudden change in behavior. He refuses to meet my eyes. He even wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, looking straight ahead at Steve, Robin and Nancy appearing in front of us.

Oh.

He’s too embarrassed to let his new friends see him with the big girl? Is that what it is? Does he suddenly regret kissing me? Was it just a heat of the moment type of deal, then? I was the closest human thing, so he settled on me for a little ‘yay the world didn’t end’ kiss?

In my whole life, I don’t think anything has hurt as much as that did.

An uncomfortable amount of silence fills the air..

“Things got weird after James left, but you know that. We both felt it, even though we tried to ignore it. Jason started to act like he ran the damn school even though we were friends at one point. I never saw you because we were never at your house anymore. Then I got held back and we basically had every class together. Then I got held back again and you graduated. I missed you. I really, really missed you,” he says the last part quietly. Almost like he was afraid for me to hear it. I hold back a scoff.

“I missed you so much, it’s ridiculous. I just wanted my shortcake back. My sweetheart, my princess, my honey,” he laughs to himself, I stay quiet. “God, I was such a jerk to you growing up. And not because ‘I had a crush on you’ because that’s bullshit, guys shouldn’t be allowed to be mean to girls with the excuse of it being ‘romantic’. I wish I had treated you better, been a little friendlier. I never realized how much you meant to me until your brother’s graduation.”

He takes his eyes away from his feet to glance at me.

“Do you remember that night? It was your first time drinking and you got so sleepy I had to tuck you into bed. You had told me about you and Danny at that party and it made me jealous. I’d never really felt jealous before, certainly not like that at least. It made me realize how deep my feelings for you went.”

I remain silent, partly because I didn’t want to interrupt him when this is the most honest and vulnerable he’s ever been, out of respect, and partly because I was utterly confused and angered by what he was saying and claiming.

“You forgave me for leaving you alone at the dance, even though I never deserved to be forgiven for that. I didn’t even know how badly you were being bullied at school until you told me, that’s not a person who deserves to be forgiven.”

A soft laugh and a pause. “I guess what I’m saying is…is I wish things had, in fact, changed after Vecna. And I know, that’s probably not something you want to hear because I know it’s not the same for you but I figure if you’re not gonna talk to me anyway, I may as well tell you, right?”

He takes a step towards the house but I don’t let him get far.

“What do you mean it’s ‘not the same for me’?”

“Well obviously you’ve been ignoring me since I kissed you so, clearly it wasn’t something you wanted.” He shrugs his shoulders. “And that’s okay. I’m not saying you have to be with me or anything, I’m just saying…I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“I’ve been ignoring you?” I ask, dumbfounded by his idiocy.

“Well, yeah. You haven’t even been answering the walkie.”

“And you think that was because I didn’t want to kiss you? Not because, oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that the second Nance and the others showed up you shoved me away from you? It couldn’t have been because it was obvious you couldn’t stand the thought of being seen with me?”

Eddie’s face drains of color.

“I can’t help but see now that this is all you think I deserve. A quick kiss when no one can see, right? A little making out before someone can figure who you’re with, huh?”

“No! That is not at all what that was! I can’t believe you would think that. I pushed you away so you wouldn’t be seen with me!” he shouts, cutting me off.

“What?”

“The whole town wanted me for murder! Murder! They thought I was running a cult that killed my friend as a sacrifice! My friend! I didn’t want you to be tied to that anymore than you already were, so I pushed you off before the others could see. If someone, somehow went yapping about a girlfriend of mine and things went sideways when we got out of the upside down, you might have gone down with me and I couldn’t let that happen. I just couldn’t. I was going to tell you all of this as soon as I could but you never let me get the chance, and I see why now. I am so sorry it looked like I was embarrassed to be with you, but that will never be the case with me.”

He takes my face in his hands and looks me directly in the eyes.

“You are single-handedly the most beautiful person I have ever met. Inside and out. You have always cared for me and the old Hellfire Club. Don’t think I didn’t know it was you sending cookies on our campaign nights, even after graduating. I remember when I showed up at your house looking for James because some older kids had taken my lunch money in middle school, little you went after them yourself and did one helluva job doing it. You sat me down and cleaned me up. Gave me peas to put on my forehead.”

It was like a forgotten memory was just pulled up by his words, I did remember that.

“I could never be embarrassed by you, ever. I don’t care what people think. I…I love you. And I love your hair, and I love your eyes, and I love your laugh, and I love your stomach and your thighs, and I love your mind. I love you and I hope you can see it. I hope…I hope you can see me,” he finishes off in a very quiet whisper, tilting his head down and away from my eyes.

I place my hands over his that still hold my face.

“I have always seen you, Eddie Munson. Always.”

His head jolts up to look me in the eyes once more.

“God, Eddie, I’m so sorry. I know you’re not a horrible person, I should have known, I’m so sorry. God, you were literally being hunted for murder and I was crying about you being embarrassed by me? I’m so fucking sorry.”

I shake my head and take a deep breath.

“I love you, I have for so long. I love the way you smile, I love the way you’re not afraid to take up space, I love the way you’re there for Dustin, the way you were there for me countless times. I love you and your horrible music.”

“Hey, now. Watch it.”

I laugh, “I love you and I see you and I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re forgiven, I promise. You didn’t even really need to apologize in the first place.”

“Yes, I did. Because none of that was fair to you.”

“And none of that was fair to you, shortcake. It’s okay.”

I look at his lips, and that’s all the cue Eddie needs to kiss me. Finally. We put our hearts into it, getting lost in each other. Getting lost in our sudden understandings of the other.

“We’re both really kinda stupid aren’t we? Stupid and oblivious,” I say, chuckling quietly.

“Oh, definitely. I mean, we’ve known each other for, what, at least ten years and we couldn’t figure this out without a bunch of drama?”

“It seems very on brand for you actually, you’ve always been one for the dramatics.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x chubby reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #my boyfriend eddie #my writing

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spielzeugkaiser · 9 months

Text

A little S3 part 2 review! Spoilers under the cut.

- I quite enoyed it!! I had a lot of fun and I loved the last episode, they really turned it around there for me; I did have the feeling that at times the pacing was pretty off though? Maybe it was just me but for episode six Cahir coming around was pretty much without build up, some other things they lingered on, Riences and Tissias death was pretty fast, I felt a bit. Yanked around; like they didn't linger where I wanted them too but I saw a lot of shots of people running. Somewhere?? or Ciri eating Lizards 😂 (but I did watch it with my brother and he said it was his favourite episode because of the action, finally fight fight stabby stabby so I kind of see what they might have thought they needed to do there)

- Freya is getting better and better and Ciri really really grew on me as a character!! Her fight in the last episode, the build up of tension in the desert, that was g o o d. (Brother's comment: where are simon and pumba. I don't remember that scene from the lion king)

- JASKIER. MY LOVE. I love this season and it's an all time favourite because not only did he say 'he has to get back to his family' he was finally finally treated as such. By Geralt, by Yennefer, by Ciri (and included in the visions!!). Honestly that could have been my sole review because that is just the most important thing to me, what I always wanted from this show 😭 FOUND FAMILY. He finally has it 😭😭

- I know I called villainous Radovid (and. we might be getting there??) but his story is so much much more tragic that I ever thought it would be and I love it. I love the Radskier dynamic of Jaskier, of course not being able to stop to care, but also of Jaskier being distrustful and looking through him? GOD YES. THANK YOU.

- I thought Philippa would loose an eye or two but that might be Radovid once he finds out (that poor guy was desperate to get away, this is really tragic and. I dig it)

- uhhh Geralt?? Very good. LOVED his interaction with Jaskier, Milva and Yen this season. I still don't get how they want to pull of Liam?? There were a lot of, albeit silly, chances of them going 'oh it's the healing process' but they didn't? Which, hey. I HONESTLY prefer that they didn't do that. I said from the beginning simply switching them is by far less jarring. And it was a better send off for this season. I think they'll probably go some kind of 'deages because of the spell route'? The less they explain the better, probably 😅

- Yen was as gorgeous as ever. She is Ciris mom 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

- I loved everything about Geralt and Jaskier in Brokilon. I gotta say it again because it's just so true. Had me!!! From the beginning. This is the dynamic I always wanted to see 🥺👉👈

#the witcher #the witcher season 3 #I need to go to work now but!! I was thinking thoughts!#jaskier #geralt of rivia #Ciri #yennefer of vengerberg

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outerspacebisexual · 2 years

Text

I'll Give In To You - Steve Harrington

Summary: You and Steve have been best friends for six years. It takes one drunken night to reveal your feelings and ruin everything. Or does it?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, drinking, mentions of vomit, friends to lovers (yes!yes!yes!)

a/n: if you see a mistake in this, no you didn't. friends to lovers my beloved

also, with the new tumblr guidelines, please please please interact with fics. it's harder than ever to get our works out to people, and we appreciate it so much <3

Masterlist

As two of Hawkins High’s most avid partygoers, you and Steve were expected at every party that was thrown. And cheer captain Rachel Bilson’s party was no different.

“Did you see this?” you asked Steve as you took your seat next to him at lunch.

He took the flyer from your hands, eyes trailing over the date and time for the ‘April Fools’ party. “I heard about it from Carol,” he replied, scrunching it up before you could take it back from him. “People will use anything for an excuse to throw a party.”

You scoffed. “As if you care, Mister Keg King.”

He shot you a sly grin, paired with a wink. You rolled your eyes, even as the heat pooled in your stomach. “Anyway,” he said, “we need to be thinking about my party. It’s less than a month away and we haven’t organised anything.”

You raised a brow. “Why am I suddenly helping you plan your own party?”

“Because you’re my best friend and you know I can’t plan to save my life.” His puppy dog eyes were big and bright, and you fought against the smile already forming.

“What will you give me in return?”

He tapped his fingers on the table, as if deep in thought. “How about a ride to school every day this month?”

“You already pick me up most mornings.”

“Sure, but how about every day?”

You shot him a look, but agreed. In truth, he didn’t have to give you anything, which he knew. You would do anything for him, including plan his birthday party, for free. It was one of the downsides to being in love with your best friend.

You and Steve had been friends for six years, best friends for five of them. And just like every cliché, you had fallen in love with him. And God, it was the worst thing you had ever done. Because it meant that you were subjected to watching him go out with other people while you watched on from the sidelines like a loser.

It was pathetic, really, but you had managed to hide your feelings from him for years successfully. Senior year would be no different.

“Do you have basketball practice this afternoon?” you asked him around a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, last period. I can still drive you home.”

You nodded in thanks. “What’s happening about—” You cut yourself off when you noticed that Steve’s eyes were on the doors of the cafeteria. On Nancy Wheeler. The heat in your stomach turned to ice. “Steve,” you said, bringing his attention back to you. “What’s up with you and Nancy?”

His eyes shot back to you. “What?”

You gestured with your head to the girl. “What’s up with you and her?”

Steve and Nancy had been spending more time together recently, which was no secret to you and the rest of Hawkins High. It was a weird pairing if you were honest, not that you would ever tell Steve that.

“Nothing,” he rushed. “We’re just lab partners. She’s having a hard time with her parents or something lately.”

The way he scrambled for an excuse wasn’t all that convincing, but you let it go. “Right.” Your appetite was suddenly gone, and you pushed your tray away.

Steve noticed, but didn’t say anything, pushing it back towards you without a word. “Now, about my party.”

You rolled your eyes again. If there was one thing Steve was good at, it was changing the subject.

Like Steve said, the sound of sweaty teenage boys running around was loud enough that you could hear it from outside the gymnasium.

You slung your backpack over your shoulder as you made your way towards it. You had elected to skip out on last period. Mrs. Click wouldn’t even notice. Plus, reading in the bleachers was always preferable to learning history for an exam that wouldn’t mean anything after graduation.

Opening the doors to the gym, you found the team in the middle of a practice game.

You waved at the coach, who at this point, was used to you sitting in on his lessons. He was fine with it, so long as you didn’t say anything or disturb his class. He was on some power trip about ensuring that the team made the finals this year. Something that Steve was sure wasn’t going to happen.

Steve caught sight of you as you made yourself comfortable towards the back of the bleachers, already pulling out a book from your backpack. He gave a nod in greeting, and you smiled back at him.

He was sweaty beyond belief, the spring air already humid enough to cause a breakout of sweat if you even thought about doing anything strenuous.

You sat in silence for the majority of the lesson, only looking up when you heard the doors open again. When you did, you thought you must have been hallucinating, because Nancy Wheeler was standing at the entrance.

You watched as Steve excused himself from practice to go over to her. Their words were hushed, not audible over the team’s shouting, no matter how hard you tried to listen.

She looked upset, that much you could tell, and Steve comforted her as she sniffled.

The bell rang out through the gym, and you shoved your book into your bag, taking the steps two at a time. You were nothing if not nosy, so you were disappointed when you got to Steve right as Nancy exited the doors and headed out into the parking lot.

You clapped your hand on Steve’s shoulder, before immediately pulling it back when it came away sweaty. You made a face and wiped it on your pants. “Gross. What was that about?”

He chuckled as he watched you. “Nothing. She’s just having a hard time with her parents and her brother.”

“So you said,” you replied dryly.

“I’m actually going to drive her home today,” he admitted. “She’ll be out by the car if you wanted to wait for me out there.”

Your stomach soured instantly. “It’s all good. I’m catching a lift with Riley,” you lied. Steve’s eyes shot from you to Riley, who was making his way to the locker room with the other guys. You prayed that Riley would give you a lift home. You two were friends enough that it shouldn’t be a problem, but on the off chance he couldn’t—home was a long way to walk.

Still, it was better than riding with Steve and Nancy.

“Oh, OK,” was all Steve said, his eyes returning to you.

You sent him a smile that he returned, even if his was a little strained. You chalked that up to Nancy waiting for him.

You started to walk away when he called to you. “Hey, I have something for you,” he said, gesturing for you to hold out your hand. You shot him a confused look, but held it out anyway.

He grabbed your wrist faster than you could move and ran your hand over his sweaty hair.

You ripped it out of his grasp and shoved him. “Yuck, Steve. What the fuck?”

He only laughed as he jogged to the locker rooms, leaving you standing there shouting after him.

It turned out that Rachel’s ‘April Fools’ party was just a normal party that happened to be the weekend after April Fools. You hadn’t expected anything more than that.

As always, Steve was the Keg King, and you could only watch on as the others held him upside down.

You had spent the majority of the night by his side like normal, downing your fair share of alcohol until the room started spinning and your feet no longer felt like they were your own.

You laughed at something Steve said as the two of you stood in the kitchen, surrounded by a few members of the basketball team. If you were honest, you weren’t even sure what was funny.

“Hey guys, I’ll be back,” Steve said suddenly, and he was disappearing through the crowd of people towards the front door.

You peered over the heads of the people in the living room to see Nancy Wheeler and Barbara Holland entering the house. You raised a brow as you watched Steve give them each a side hug. To say you were surprised to see them at a party was an understatement.

Barbara was nice, and you shared a class with her last year, but a party was not her scene. You imagined that Nancy was the same.

“What’s up with you?” Riley asked from beside you.

You turned your attention to him, his face blurring and swirling the more you tried to focus on it. “Nothing,” you mumbled. “I’m just surprised to see Nancy here.”

“See Nancy here, or see Nancy with Steve?”

You shot him a look that probably seemed a lot more intimidating in your head. “Hey, I don’t need you interfering in my life,” you slurred, stumbling over the word ‘interfering’.

“Right,” he drawled, his teasing smile making you want to be anywhere but beside him.

He hadn’t left you alone about it since you cornered him that afternoon a week ago and begged him for a ride home. He had agreed on the condition that you tell him why you needed one when Steve had only left five minutes before.

You lied for the most part, but he saw straight through it.

“I’m getting another drink,” you muttered, and he only nodded and turned back to the conversation.

You pushed through the crowd, saying hello to a few people as you tried to find Steve’s cooler with your drinks.

After five minutes of looking, you gave up, choosing instead to grab a beer from a random cooler.

You popped the cap, but as soon as the smell hit your nostrils, bile was rising in your throat. You stood completely still, hoping that the nausea would pass, but it only grew until you were shoving past people in search of the bathroom.

Luckily, the door was ajar, and you slammed it shut and collapsed in front of the toilet just in time.

Once you were sure that you’d gotten everything out of your system, you stood, washing your mouth out and staring at yourself in the mirror.

You still looked fine, aside from the spaced-out drunk look in your eyes.

Picking up the beer you’d left on the counter, you swigged it, the burn from the alcohol cancelling out the burn from the vomit.

There was a knock on the door, and you shouted ‘come in’ before you even thought about the fact that you were in a random bathroom and it wasn’t usually a shared space.

Fortunately for you, it was Steve. “Hey, Riley said he saw you rushing in here.”

You stumbled as you leaned against the counter. “I just felt a little sick,” you explained, gesturing to the toilet.

“Ah. You feeling better?”

You giggled. At what you didn’t know. Maybe at the way he looked so pretty tonight. Then you remembered where he had been. You took another swig from your beer. “Why aren’t you with Nancy?”

Steve glanced between you and the beer in your hand. “Where’d you get that? That’s not ours.”

He tried to take it from you, but you pulled out of his reach. “Where’s Nancy?”

“I don’t know. With Barb outside probably,” he said, finally succeeding in wrangling the bottle from you. He sniffed it. “Did someone give this to you? And why are you so caught up with Nancy?”

You scoffed, ignoring the first question. “Because you’re always with Nancy now,” you slurred. “It’s Nancy this and Nancy that. So, why aren’t you with her now?”

Steve righted you when you leaned a little too far back. “Because I’d rather be with you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

You rolled your eyes and huffed in an exaggerated manor, all drunken foolishness. “You don’t mean that, Stevie. You would choose Nancy over me, and that’s OK!” You patted his chest. “It’s OK that you choose her. She’s nice.”

If Steve was confused before, he was completely and utterly lost now. “What are you talking about? You’re my best friend.”

You let out a broken sound, something between a laugh and a scoff. “I know. That’s the worst part. Because you don’t even realise just how much it hurts to be around you when I love you.”

Steve went rigid beneath you, his chest halting as he held his breath.

The two of you stood there, suspended in time.

“What?” he asked after a moment.

As he said it, the music died out and you stood up straight, the drunken cloud of fog floating away quicker than ever before.

You had not just said that out loud. But from the crinkle between Steve’s brows and the confused look on his face, you most definitely had.

You pulled away from him, brushing past him before he could stop you. He still tried, but you were faster, slipping out of his reach and racing through the crowd of people.

You couldn’t hear Steve behind you, but it was hard to hear anything over the music blaring and your blood thrumming in your ears.

Riley was where you’d left him, and for the second time in a week, you were begging him for a ride home. He looked concerned at first, but agreed when you threatened to take his keys and drive home yourself.

You didn’t see Steve before you left.

You didn’t even try and find him.

You didn’t want to do anything except get home and cry.

Which was exactly what you did.

You drove to school on Monday morning, despite the fact that Steve had promised to drive you every day this month.

After spending most of Saturday night and all of Sunday moping around and crying at your utter stupidity, you had to face school.

You were sitting in your first period English, the seat next to you that Steve normally sat in empty. At first, you were hopeful that maybe he’d skipped first period, which was the only class that you shared with him on Monday.

Your hopes were crushed, however, when Steve came bumbling into the room five minutes late.

He dropped into the seat beside you, and you could feel the heat behind your cheeks as you kept your eyes averted.

“You drove to school,” he said after a few minutes.

“Yeah,” you replied, still not looking at him.

He was silent again. “I waited for you.”

The guilt stabbed your heart until it was nothing more than a deformed pin cushion. “Sorry,” you said, and you really meant it. “I should have told you I was driving this week.”

“This week?” He was surprised, and he said it a lot louder than he meant to because the teacher was quick to shush him. He continued, quieter, “You’re driving this whole week?”

You nodded and dared a glance at him. “Yeah. My dad said I need to drive my car more or he’ll sell it.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it was far from the truth. The truth that you couldn’t face the consequences to your dumb actions.

“Right,” he replied, and he slumped back in his seat, fumbling with his pen.

The next few weeks went by in an awkward dance of you and Steve trying to act normal and failing spectacularly.

You managed to avoid him for the most part, which was more painful than you thought it would be. You hadn’t spent a day without him on purpose for years. And now you were doing it most days.

Maybe what hurt the most was that Steve wasn’t acting like nothing happened. It was worse. He was acting like you were some ticking timebomb that would fall apart if he looked at you for a second too long.

Which just made everything ten times harder to pretend like nothing happened.

You spent lunch in the library half the time, where you by chance ran into Barbara Holland.

She sat opposite you at the table you’d found in the back of the room. “Hi,” she greeted.

“Barb.” You blinked. You hadn’t seen her since catching sight of her at the party two weeks ago. It had been probably six months since you’d spoken to her. “Hey.”

She pulled some books and pens from her backpack, setting up for studying what looked like science. “This science project is killing me,” she said. “How are you getting through it?”

“Uh, I’m just doing some extra reading on the topic. I’m not in Mr. Hilton’s class, so I’m not partnered with anyone.”

Barb nodded. “Yeah, I’m not either. I think he’s only partnering people because it’s a senior-slash-junior class.”

“Yeah, probably.” You weren’t quite sure what to say after that. It was weird enough that Barb was sitting in front of you in the first place, let alone that you were making small talk about a science project.

“Nancy and Steve are partnered together,” Barb said, breaking the silence.

You looked back at her, brows raised. “I know.” Your answer was snappier than you meant it to be.

Barb studied you for a long moment. “He’s being a really good friend to her. Her dad has been giving her a hard time recently, and Steve knows all about that, so he’s been helping her out.”

“Cool,” you replied.

Barb went quiet again, and you turned back to your work.

“Steve’s birthday is next week,” she said.

You sighed. “I know when my best friend’s birthday is, Barb.”

If she clocked how grating she was being, she didn’t care. “He’s still having the party that you guys planned.”

You narrowed your eyes. You knew exactly where she was going with this little spiel.

She was trying to gauge if you were going to Steve’s party. It was no secret that you had pulled away from the senior festivities in the past few weeks. You hadn’t attended many parties or skipped classes for fun like you used to. The idea of getting drunk and admitting something even more mortifying while under the influence was terrifying.

You weren’t sure if Barb had come of her own accord, or if Steve had put her up to it. Or worse yet, if Nancy had done it.

You suddenly had no desire to talk to Barb, and you packed your notebook and textbook into your bag. “Thanks, Barb,” was all you said as you left the library.

Steve’s leg bounced up and down as he sat on his couch, surveying the surrounding partygoers. It was his usual crowd—the entire senior class of Hawkins High, along with a few sophomores and juniors that somehow snagged an invite.

His eyes drifted over the people he’d known his entire life, all standing in his house. He should be grateful that this many people knew him and wanted to come to his party. Instead, he was clinging to his couch and searching the faceless throng of people for the one person he really wanted to see.

The one person that his life had unknowingly revolved around until three weeks ago.

He gripped his beer bottle tighter.

Someone clapped him on the shoulder, and for a split second, it was you. It was your hand on his shoulder, a sly comment falling from your mouth before he even turned to look at you.

It was you. Until it wasn’t, and the hope in his chest dwindled as the image of you was replaced with a guy from his science class, wishing him a happy birthday and congratulating him on the great party.

He thanked him lamely, the bottle in his hands suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

You didn’t come to parties anymore.

He took a can from someone as they passed him, shouting ‘happy birthday’ over the pounding music.

It was his party after all. It was his birthday. He should be enjoying himself. He should have finished the lukewarm beer in his hands twenty minutes ago. He should be shot gunning the can in his hands with the rest of the basketball team by the pool.

His heart started to race.

He should be doing any number of things with any number of people.

But the only place he wanted to be was with you.

He was standing before he could stop himself.

The guy from earlier was by the door when he grabbed his keys. “Hey, where are you going, man?”

“Out,” was all Steve replied, only vaguely aware of the guy shouting that he couldn’t leave his own party.

He didn’t care about leaving his house in the hands of a bunch of high schoolers.

He only cared about getting to you.

You stared blankly at the perfectly wrapped gift box sitting on your dresser.

It was teasing you.

You didn’t know how, but it was.

Maybe with the promise of everything being all right if you just got the guts to go give it to Steve. It didn’t matter that he was having a party. You were still his best friend, you still had more right than anyone else to be at his place.

Plus, you had helped organise the party to begin with. If anything, you should be pride of place next to Steve.

But you weren’t.

The prospect of talking to Steve after your mortifying ordeal was almost too much to bear. You had managed to keep your stupid feelings to yourself for years and suddenly a few too many drinks and a random bathroom was what sent you over the edge.

It was humiliating.

You groaned and collapsed onto your back on your bed, covering your eyes with your arm.

Even without looking at it, the present was burned into the back of your eyelids. The worst part was, you knew that he would love it.

He’d get that goofy look on his face as he pulled the lid off, and he wouldn’t even bother to suppress the laughter that would burst from him. He would throw his arms around you without a second thought, and you would burn from head to toe at his touch while you pretended to be nonchalant about the gift, lying through your teeth about how you’d forgotten his birthday. You’d lie, despite the fact that it had taken almost six months and plenty of tears to make.

You’d pretend, just like you always did.

Normally, you and Steve would be so drunk by now that you’d collapse into his bed and he’d fall to the floor in a heap, yanking his pillow from beneath your head, ignoring your objections.

But now, you were holed up in your room ignoring that you wanted to be with him.

Each minute that ticked by was spend volleying between two thoughts: ‘I should go and see him’ and ‘I need the ground to open up and swallow me whole’.

After ten agonising minutes of going back and forth, you stood.

Steve was still your best friend. And he would never not see you on your birthday.

Your eyes found the gift again. It sat completely still, completely unmoving. You stared at it. It stared back.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, and you were getting dressed before you could convince yourself this was a terrible idea.

The route to your house was second nature to Steve by this point.

Six years of biking, and then driving, between your place and his had the turns seared into his brain. He could get there blindfolded.

He hadn’t even bothered to turn on the radio. The silence was somehow comforting. It was neutral. It didn’t tell him that this was either the stupidest thing he’d ever done or that it was the best thing he would ever do.

Only his mind told him that. Each thought took up equal space as he drove, swinging up and down and around and around like unbalanced scales.

Your driveway came into view. The only car parked out front was your own, no sign of your parents’ cars. He didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

He pulled in behind your car and cut the engine.

Through your window, he could see your bedroom light was on, the light curling from beneath the curtains. You were probably in there right now, curled up in bed reading one of your countless novels that he could never keep up with. You were always one to forgo sleep for the next chapter.

He chewed on his bottom lip as he sat there in the darkness, just watching. He heaved in a breath and screwed his eyes shut.

It was his birthday, and even though he didn’t have a cake or candles, he still had a wish.

A wish that he cashed in as he sat in his car in your driveway.

In your haste to get semi-presentable for a party, you couldn’t hear anything over your laboured breathing.

You threw on a jacket, and after scanning your appearance in the mirror, you gave up on trying to be anything other than the weird mess that you had become. It didn’t matter anyway. You were just going to see Steve and give him his gift, and then you were coming back home.

The gift was just where you’d left it, just as intense in its silent stare. It was a box, you thought darkly, how could it even have a stare?

Before taking it from your dresser, you opened the lid, peeking inside just to make sure it was still in there.

It was.

The jacket you’d made and sewed yourself staring back at you. From the way you’d folded it, the embroidery on the left-hand side was visible. Harrington’s Baby-Sitting Service in lettering so small you could barely make it out. The lettering colour was the same as the jacket material, so no one would notice it unless it was pointed out.

What wasn’t visible from the way it was sitting, was the other embroidery on the inside of the right cuff: your name.

In even smaller lettering, it wasn’t visible at all unless you ran your fingers over it and felt that it was there.

You slammed the lid back down and took it under your arm.

It was too late to back out now.

Descending the stairs, you were surprised to find your keys exactly where they should be. It was like your earlier self had been preparing for this moment.

Gripping your keys in one hand and clutching the present tighter beneath your arm, you yanked your front door open.

The gravel crunched under foot as Steve made his way to your front door.

Once he was in front of it, he hesitated.

What if you didn’t want to see him? What if he knocked and you didn’t answer? What if he knocked and you did answer?

What was he even going to say?

He hadn’t organised a speech on the drive over. He had a full fifteen minutes, and he wasted them on his own pitiful thoughts instead of preparing a speech.

Maybe he could go back to his car and work on one, and then come back and try it again.

But before he got the chance, the outside light flicked on, and he was left standing—completely frozen—inches from the door as it was reefed open from the inside.

You faltered, eyes widening as you registered that Steve was standing on the threshold of your house.

“Steve,” you breathed.

He looked just as shocked to see you standing there. “Y/N,” he replied, voice shaky.

You blinked at him, a million thoughts racing through your head. The first being: ‘Why aren’t you at your party?’ And the second: “What are you doing here?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I—uh—I came to see you.”

“Oh,” was all you managed.

His eyes went from your face to your outfit to the gift under your arm. “Were you…were you coming to see me?”

You would have to be blind to miss the hopefulness behind his words and in his eyes. You shuffled and pulled the box from under your arm. Holding it in front of him now, it felt stupid. “Yeah,” you said finally. “I was going to give it to you at your party.”

“You’re going to the party?” he asked, a glimmer of surprise flicking across his face. “I didn’t think you wanted to come.”

“I don’t,” you mumbled, and you caught the way his shoulders deflated. “But I wanted to see you. It’s still your birthday, Steve.”

He nodded, swallowing harshly as an awkward silence descended over the two of you. He didn’t move to come in, even when you invited him in.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot as his eyes darted around wildly. “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, and you paused from where you were dropping your keys into the bowl by the door. You placed the gift on the table and turned to look at him as he continued, “I’m sorry for not talking to you. I just thought…I thought that you wanted space. From everything. From me.”

You didn’t tell him that that was exactly the opposite of what you wanted.

“I wanted so badly to talk to you about it, but Nancy said that you probably didn’t want that. She said that you would see me when you were ready.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the mention of Nancy. Of course he would go to Nancy Wheeler for help with his problems. It also didn’t help that she was right, sort of. “Steve, it’s all right, really. I was—”

“No,” he cut you off. “It’s not all right. I—I shouldn’t have let you walk out of that bathroom. I should have chased you down.”

“Steve—”

He held up a hand. “Just…Just let me finish, please.”

You opened your mouth, but closed it after a moment, nodding for him to keep going.

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. “When you said what you said in that bathroom, I was surprised. Not about what you said, but about how blind I’d been. Because you…I’ve been in love with you since freshman year.”

You froze, your heart thumping hard against your ribcage.

His eyes were trained on the floor, the words tumbling from his mouth. “And I told myself for years that it didn’t matter because I didn’t want to ruin anything. Because I was happy if I just got to be your friend. And then that night, I was worried that you didn’t mean it.” His voice broke, and it took everything in you to not reach out and hug him. “I thought that maybe you were just drunk and saying things you didn’t mean. And if that was true, if you really didn’t mean it, then I couldn’t risk saying it to you and having things become weird between us.”

When he finally looked at you, his eyes were lined with tears. Your own suddenly burned.

“But then things got weird anyway. And it felt like my fault. Because I couldn’t look at you without hearing what you said.”

“Steve,” you began, but you couldn’t work out where to start. “What about Nancy?”

He blinked. Then blinked again. “What about Nancy?”

You floundered. “Aren’t the two of you…?”

“Nancy?” he barked. “No. Nancy is a friend. She’s nice and all, but…”

“But what?”

His eyes found yours again. “But she’s not you.”

You stared at him. There was a tender vulnerability in his eyes, one that you had rarely seen from him. You had no doubt that yours reflected your own. A tear slipped from your eye, and Steve was stepping towards you before you could wipe it away.

He took your face in his hands, so gently that his fingers felt like little more than a whisper across your skin. He swiped the tear from your cheek. He was so close. “Steve,” you breathed.

“Y/N,” he murmured back, just as quiet.

Your eyes flickered between his, and when his own dipped to your lips, your breath hitched.

The space between you was infinitely large, but Steve made the leap anyway.

And as his lips pressed to yours, the world fell away into nothing but the two of you in this moment that had been building for six years.

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #stranger things one shot #steve harrington one shot #stranger things angst #stranger things fluff

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sleepyhollowtimburton · 6 months

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These are gifs of a deleted scene. It's a real shame they deleted this scene because it's quite cute, the scene is included in the scriptbook and novelization, so here I'll give you the novelized version of this scene (it reads better than the script). What do you think? Should they have kept this in the film?

As Ichabod picked up his pen once again, he heard a knock on the door. At last, the servant girl with the bible. He'd sent her so long ago he thought she'd forgotten.

"Yes, yes come in!" he shouted over his shoulder. Perhaps that family tree on the bible's inner leaf would reveal something, Something odd had caught his eye during his brief perusal in the parlor, a familiar surname that he couldn't recall now.

Behind him, the door clicked open. Soft footsteps trod the wooden floor. "Thank you." Ichabod called out. "Just leave it on the reading stand. That will be all." No, she's a resource, you can learn from her. "Wait. Tell me about that big brute who seems to be Katrina's.."

As he spoke, he turned around and came face-to-face with Katrina van Tassel. He shot up out from his chair. His hip knocked against the desk, which thudded against the wall, sending papers cascading towards the floor. "Forgive me! I asked Sarah to bring me..."

"So your clever books have failed you," Katrina said with an amused smile. "and you turn to the bible after all."

Ichabod collected himself. "I see I am talked about downstairs."

"In passing only. We have many things to talk about, even in this backwards place."

"I am sorry. Please excuse my manner. I am not used to..." Speechless, she renders me speechless.

"Female company?" Katrina asked.

"Society." Ichabod shot back.

"How can you avoid society in New York? How I should love the opera and theaters, to go dancing! Is it wonderful?"

Ichabod fought the urge to lie, to make himself sound cultured and urbane. She would see through him, she saw everything. "I have never been."

"But there is an art museum? A concert hall?"

"I don't know."

"Then you have nothing to teach me." The words made Ichabod shrink away in disappointment, but an idea was forming. "Perhaps I have." He said. "Do you believe the van Garretts and the widow Winship were murdered by a headless horseman?"

"Not everyone here believes it is the horseman."

At last, a realist. "Good." Ichabod said.

"Some say it's the witch of the western woods who has made a pact with Lucifer."

Ichabod's shoulders sank. Katrina was one of them after all, provincial and irrational. "There are no witches or galloping ghosts either. Is everyone in the village in thrall of superstition?"

"Why are you so afraid of magic? Not all magic is black. There are ancient truths in these woods which have been forgotten in your city parks."

"If they are truth, they are not magic, if magic, they are not truth," Ichabod told her.

"You are foolish, when there is a fever in the house, it is well known that willow herb roots and a crow's foot must be boiled in the milk of a pure white goat with special charms uttered over the fire, and the fever abates."

"Next time, try the herbs without the rest." Ichabod had heard enough. "And now I must ask you to excuse me."

"Gladly, I should not have interrupted our town's saviour. Good night." Katrina turned and walked towards the open door. "And as to your first question, that big brute you were asking about has proposed to me."

That statement caught Ichabod off guard. "I..I..I'm happy that..."

Katrina looked back over her shoulder. "He's proposed to me...several times." She paused and smiled, letting the last two words linger. And as she left, she seemed to take all the air in the room with her.

Ichabod had to sit down.

#Sleepy Hollow #Tim Burton #1999 #Deleted scene #Ichabod Crane #Katrina van Tassel #Johnny Depp #Christina Ricci

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notyour-valentine · 7 months

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Welcome to Downton, Mr Shelby 14 ~ Tommy Shelby x Crawley!OC (Series)

[Masterlist] [Taglist] [Series Masterlist]

Summary: No Tommy but Charlotte and Lizzie - Chazzie...Lilotte?

If interested, you can check out this post for more about Charlotte

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption.I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Wordcount: 5140 words

Part 14

Charlotte felt like her head could explode any minute now. It was like a kettle ready to hiss and whistle just with nowhere for the air to escape, so it would shake and tremble more and more until the material would simply give in.

And her seams were ripping, as of course, this was the topic of conversation at dinner. How could it not be?

“Only a few years ago, this would have been unthinkable.”, her father said, his voice strained with suppressed outrage. Her father was not one to shout, and would not do in this instance. He maybe just wouldn't be too hard on someone that this matter brought to shouting, so deeply ran his resentment and shock.

“A field marshall assassinated at the Derby, in the presence of their Majesties!”

His voice almost cracked on the final word.

Yes, she thought. The King had been there too, and the Queen. She had almost forgotten. Then again, most of the day seemed like a blur to her now, a wash of white and brown and grey, in contrast to the inescapable.

“I’ve heard it was the Irish.”, Mary said over some wonderful creation of carrot mousse and seabass that tasted like nothing but cardboard to her and her alone, as she forced herself to choke down bite by bite. It was little enough, but the last thing she wanted was their attention on her.

If they look, they'll know. “How could it not be the Irish?", Edith argued. "After all he did to those poor people in Cork!”.

She said it as if it was something everyone would know, which naturally ticked Mary off.

For once, she didn't mind their squabble. Fight, she thought, fight so no one remembers I'm here.

She was too old to crawl in her mother's bed and disappear in her arms, to hide between her parents and let their warmth and love melt away her night terrors.

She was too old for that, and her terrors were worse and more shocking than any nightmare of hers had ever been. And since she could no longer melt into their embrace, she just wanted to disappear, to simply vanish until the world made sense again. “Whatever are you talking about?”, Mary snapped, almost rolling her eyes at Edith, who smirked in triumph.

“Don’t you ever read the newspapers?”, she asked. "Even you might learn something."

"Girls-", their mother warned under her breath. “It seems Branson has rubbed off on you.", Mary said, fighting Edith's smugness with performative disinterest.

Yet it was Charlotte who was cut by her words as the mention of his name only hammered down Sybil’s absence.

She could not run to her mother, could not confide in Mary, not in anyone - even Sybil was a stretch, but there was still a chance.

If anyone, then Sybil. But she wasn't here. She was across the sea, safe and untouched by all of this.

“It has nothing to do with him.”, Edith argued, not wanting to let this go “I don’t condone the attack, obviously, but we shouldn’t pretend like he was a saint either, now just because he is dead." “Edith,”, their father said sternly, “Russell has served this country during many wars, including the Boer War, might I remind you, with distinction."

Sir Richard scoffed.

“I hear he has a reputation for vulgarity.”

Robert shot him down with a glare. “He was a soldier in service to his king and this country and deserves every ounce of respect. And for him to be butchered by Irish terrorists is not only a tragedy but also a scandal for our nation."

The knife slipped from her grasp and clattered onto her plate, before sliding off and disappearing under the table.

“Apologies.”, she mumbled quickly, rushing to bend down to hide her face.

It was a small mercy and all she got, a split second to breathe and compose herself, to pretend the storm inside her wasn't raging.

“I think it’s far time to change the topic of conversation!”, her mother said at once.

Robert cleared his throat and looked over at her. “You’re right. This is no topic for the ladies.”, he said, his blue eyes softening with care and affection.

She quickly looked away. “It’s fine.”, she said, trying her best to sound convincing, at which she failed miserably.

“I know it’s ghoulish, but I am so relieved you left early.”, her mother said softly, shaking her head.

“Yes,”, Robert agreed, “How is Miss Stark?”

Cora had informed him that an acquaintance of Charlotte's had gotten ill from a heatstroke and that she had taken her home. He had been displeased at her absence, but the chivalrous compassion had eased his disapproval. Then of course, Russell's body had been discovered and the world turned on its head.

Charlotte swallowed hard and glanced at her mother.

Her eyes were wide alert, as if she was ready to jump in if she should fail, but still gave her the room to try.

“She is quite exhausted, so I presume she is asleep."

Not that she was in any state for dinner, despite it obviously being offered. Instead, Mrs Hughes had taken her a tray.

"She said she wanted to catch a train tomorrow after breakfast. I’d like to take a car to accompany her to the station.”

“Of course.”, Cora quickly said.

In the light of the ban on today’s incidents, the remaining conversation was rather limited, and the fact that she was permitted to remain in silence instead of being roped into the discussion was both blessing and curse.

But the quiet only made it worse, for that way all of Miss Stark’s words echoed louder and louder in her head.

Cora soon began to talk about the hospital garden fair, which only reminded her of the fact that her own hospital work, which had been lined up and planned meticulously. She hadn't wanted to put a foot wrong.

When dinner was over and they moved to the drawing room, Charlotte counted the minutes until she could excuse herself.

More than ever before, did she miss Sybil. If she could tell a soul, she could have told her…she could have and Sybil would have supported her, helped her, let her be angry or soothed her tears.

She didn't know whether she wanted to scream or cry, but right now she was allowed nothing. Just - terror. Thankfully most of them chalked her behaviour down to today’s events, and she was soon sent off to bed to get some rest. As if any sleep would come to her ever again.

That’s not even a lie, Charlotte thought bitterly, her hand trembling on the banister as she crept up, feeling more like a ghost than a person.

How much a world could change from noon to night.

Despite the hurricane of her thoughts, her feet proved reliable allies, carrying her to her bedroom.

It felt foreign to her now, from the pale mint green colour of the curtains, to the pillows chosen to match. The way the mattress dented when she sat down, the feeling of the sheets, the way the street lamps flickered in the distance - all of it was foreign. But was it the world that was foreign now, or her?

She could hear the sounds of her breath, her chest rising and falling with shallow, faint huffs as her hands trembled.

If only she was brave enough to scream.

But she wasn't, and so silence was her only option, silence and confused agony, like a hunted animal that didn't know where the arrows came from. Only she had already been struck, and was bleeding out by the minute.

She forced her eyes shut to banish her tears and the thoughts that caused them.

It wasn't even her place to be angry at herself or pity herself, or both. What did she matter in all of this? In all Miss Stark had told her?

Compared to her, what right did she have to the chest-tightening feeling of bottomless betrayal?

So there was guilt to add to all those feelings too.

When she heard the knock on the door, she flinched up as if someone had struck her.

"Anna.", she said breathlessly. "I didn't ring yet."

Anna shook her head.

"Milady, a Mr. Shelby came to the backdoor to speak to you. I thought you might prefer it not being announced by Mr. Carson so I told him to wait there."

Charlotte felt her stomach drop, and her heart with it until there was only an icy, bottomless pit inside her.

I can’t see him. I can’t speak to him. I don’t want to. I can’t.

Like a frozen flower, she would shatter in his mere presence.

But she couldn’t say that to Anna. She would have to explain herself, and she couldn’t.

She had thought keeping him there was a kindness, given all she had told her of her activities with his charity, or what he had made her believe to be that.

If she didn't comply now, Anna would have her questions why.

Worse, she might ask Mary, and her sister would stop at nothing -

Charlotte cleared her throat and looked down, smoothing down the fabric of her dress.

She had no choice.

Unless she wanted to say the unspeakable and explain the inexplicable, she had to go down.

"Stay with me?", she asked, her voice trembling just slightly, betraying her to someone who knew her for nearly all her life.

"Of course, Milady.", she said, offering her a small smile, but it didn't reach Anna's eyes. For that, she could read her too well.

So she quickly moved ahead, unable to stand the piercing gaze.

But every step felt like she was dragging the weight of the world with her.

Still, despite everything, she was a Crawley. She had to be brave. There was no other option.

The servant's staircase spared her the knowing and judging gaze of her ancestors on the walls, but instead she saw a few curious glances of the servants as Anna led her out.

Of course Anna had thought of bringing along one of her scarves.

She wore it like a coat of armour, because it was the only protection she could have.

Taking a deep breath, like poor Jane Grey stepping out onto the Tower Green, she opened the door to the back entrance.

She smelled the smoke before she saw the glimmer of the cigarette, and then the man flicking it away.

His tie needle reflected in the light of the lantern, then the blonde of his hair. “John.”

His name slipped from her lips like a cry of shock.

She had feared, but expected Tommy, and now on consideration perhaps even Arthur, but not John. Never John. He was the last one she had thought to come and seek her out.

But here he was, looking up at her with wide blue eyes.

“You live here?”, he asked surprised, his eyes wide with awe as he looked up the facade, the stucco, the countless windows.

“When in London, yes.”, Charlotte said, as she approached him slowly.

Arthur’s Arthur. He can’t help it, really. But John- John has a good heart.

He held his hat in his hands and shifted uncomfortably from one step to the other.

The hat, she remembered.

“Ahm, where is Lizzie?”, he asked, the way she imagined a schoolboy would inquire after his friend.

“Upstairs.”, Charlotte said. The mention of her sent a surge of defiance through her, like a second coat of iron out of the necessity of protecting the woman, but that also protected her in turn.

"She’s sleeping.”

“D-doesn’t she want to go home?”, he asked, glancing up as if he could look through the walls and windows into the guest bedroom.

“Not tonight.”

John nodded, taking a deep breath, his mouth contorting. “How is she?”, he wanted to know, barely glancing up at her. He couldn't meet her gaze fully, but he couldn't look away either. For that, he cared too much.

And Miss Stark cared about him too. She had told her as much, about John, and his children and the wedding. About how he still tried his best to care for her after. About how he was good, one of the good ones, Charlotte. One of the boys they sent. A boy, not a man. Not like Arthur and Tommy. Once she had feared the sharpness of his eyes, the cruelty in his words, the way he made her feel small and stupid and useless, but now Miss Stark’s assessment, as little as it was, was all she had to hold onto.

She cared about him, and he cared about her. So Charlotte chose to answer. “I don’t know. Hurt. Tired. Angry."

She sighed once more, leaning against the doorframe.

"She didn’t want to see a doctor.”

Perhaps he could make her see sense.

“Course not.”, he mumbled to himself.

Then his blue eyes met his. “Thanks, Charlotte. I know you and Lizzie…”

As he spoke, he turned his cap in his hands and when the light hit it right, she saw the light glimmer in the reflection.

Oh, she thought. Oh no.

She had forgotten all about that part, the fact getting lost in the tirade of terror, but it came rushing back, turning her stomach and making bile rise in her throat.

“That doesn’t matter now.”, she said quickly. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“They wouldn’t.”, he argued. “And I’m sorry for…you know.”

Charlotte nodded once more. “It’s fine.”

For a moment silence hung between them. “Tommy’s outside. He’s also worried about Lizzie.”

“I see.”, Charlotte said, the pain that was already pounding in her chest, getting even worse, so bad she felt her entire insides were ignited with agony. “I doubt Miss Stark will want to see him anytime soon.”

“And what about you?” I never want to see him again. I never want to talk to him again. I never ever want to think about him again! Granny was right. This was a terrible, terrible mistake.

If she could wipe him from her memory, she would in a heartbeat.

“I can’t go out now.”, she said, blinking away her tears. “It’s late and very cold.”

John saw right through her excuse.

“Has she…”, he began slowly, “has she said…”

“She told me enough, John.”, Charlotte said firmly, building herself up to her full height, “Miss Stark told me quite enough."

There was no sleep for her that night, and she guessed probably not for many nights to come. Her thoughts were too loud, the pictures Miss Stark painted too vivid and horrid and horrific to allow her much rest.

When Anna came with the morning tea, Charlotte was already up, with a scarf around her shoulders instead of her robe. She had left that with Miss Stark.

What a foolish, useless little thing in light of what had happened, what had happened to her.

"Has Miss Stark been woken yet?", She asked, avoiding Anna’s look. She felt the blonde woman would read her at any glance, would need only one look and see the truth of it all.

She probably knew about the real cause of Miss Stark’s distress already. That was why Mrs Hughes and her mother asked Anna for help. She was kind and discreet, and a soul they all could trust.

"About now, I think.", Anna said. “I’ve sent Lily up with a tray.”

"I think I will go and see her before getting ready for breakfast."

It was an improper thing to do, and so Anna helped her into a day-dress as quickly as she could, even skipping the stockings. She would only be going down the hall after all.

“There, Milady. Good enough I’d say.”, she said with her cheerful tone, as she smoothed down her hair just barely.

With that, she stilled her hands, her eyes finding hers in the reflection of the mirror.

“The last day has been quite distressing for you hasn’t it?”

It wasn’t a question as much as a medical diagnosis.

She had known her since she was a little girl and knew things about her that Mary and Edith missed. She had been taking care of her too long for her to miss things like these, even if she managed to conceal them from her sisters.

“Well, denial would be futile, so…”

She broke off and shook her head.

“I’ll just be glad to be home.”

That wasn’t even half a lie. She wanted to go home, to be back in Downton, to breathe Yorkshire air and be surrounded by her home as far as the eye could see.

“If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”, she said, the words heavier than the normal empty courtesy.

"Thank you, Anna.”

But there are things I couldn't even tell you if I wanted to.

Leaving Anna to tidy, she left her room and walked the short distance to where Miss Stark had been put up in. She found her resting against the pillows, staring at the tea tray over her lap as if it was a wild animal ready to bite her nose off.

Charlotte made a point of not looking at the swelling of her lip.

Lily was with her, standing by the window.

"Good morning, Milady!", She greeted, dropping into a small curtsy.

"I was just asking Miss Stark what to do about clothes for today since she doesn't have any luggage."

No, Charlotte thought, there was no luggage, and the clothes she had worn, well, they had been reduced to tatters on the bathroom floor. Anna had helped her cover that up.

"She can have a pick of anything I brought.", she offered. “Try to pick out a few options of anything long.”

Miss Stark was a good deal taller than she was.

With that, Lily left with a gentle "Yes, Milady."

The door closed behind her, leaving Charlotte and the other woman alone.

The silence made her thoughts and the abstract fear they caused ring louder, echoing in her ears.

"Is this…normal?", Miss Stark asked, waving at the tray of tea, biscuits and orange slices.

"Well,", she said softly, sitting down on the chaise lounge. "Mine didn’t have orange slices."

Miss Stark huffed, and Charlotte couldn’t tell if it was a sign of success or failure at her attempt of lightening the situation.

When her fingers touched the porcellian, they trembled.

"How's the tea?", she asked, playing with the edge of her scarf.

"It's good.", Miss Stark mumbled, staring into it as if she hoped to see the future in the china.

"Did you sleep?"

She shook her head, which was understandable.

"Did you?"

Her response was the same.

What can I say?, She wondered, her chest tightening. What even is there to say?

The knock on the door surprised them both, especially when Charlotte saw who it revealed.

"Good morning, Mama!", She said, getting up from the bed and kissing her cheek.

Her mother looked to have had the same thoughts she had, to see Miss Stark as soon as she woke up. She wore a pale blue tea gown, the old kind with the wide cuts, flowing fabric and big pockets that was from before the war. It was far from the latest fashion but she had a preference for robes like these.

"Apologies, Miss Stark.", She said, "I heard you'd planned to take the early train and I couldn't let you go in good conscience without at least checking up on you."

Miss Stark was staring up at her with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights.

"Ahm- good morning.", She mumbled, before trying to remove the tea tray in order to get up in a rush.

“Oh no need for that!”, her mother said swiftly. “We’re the one invading your bedroom this morning, aren’t we?”, she said, taking Charlotte’s arm.

"I'm sorry for being a bother, Milady.”, Miss Stark told the teacup.

A sense of sadness washed over her mother’s face.

"Oh please, you could never be a bother, Miss Stark. You have all of us quite a scare. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to see a doctor? We can arrange it, easily. Quietly. We’d take care of it all, and there would be no risk to your reputation.”

"No Doctor, please.", Miss Stark said sharply.

Her mother, Lady Grantham, sighed.

"Alright, but I'll send up Anna to see to your cuts again, yes? The same ointment Mrs Hughes gave you yesterday.”

To that, she agreed.

"Good.”, her mother said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Now what do we do about clothes?"

"Oh, Miss Stark- will borrow some of my things."

Her mother looked at her as if she had suggested something ludicrous. “Nonsense, darling. Miss Stark won't fit into your clothes. I'll have the maids take some of Mary's things."

"Mary will hate that!", Charlotte said. And she would demand to know why -

She already had far too much going on to dare getting Mary upset at her now.

"I'll handle Mary.", Her mother assured her, "Don't you worry one bit, Miss Stark. After breakfast, we'll have the car ready to take you to the station, whenever you need, whether that is this morning, today or tomorrow."

"Thank you, Milady.", Miss Stark said. "For everything."

"No need.", She assured her, before cupping Charlotte's cheek.

"I'm very proud of you, darling.”

In that moment, for a split second, the world was alright again, but as soon as her mother left, she felt herself falling into that icy pit again.

They wouldn’t be proud if they knew what she knew now. They’d be so enraged and appalled, shocked and horrified - just as she was now. And she felt so very stupid.

"Your mother's lovely.", Miss Stark said softly, once the door was closed again.

"Yes.", Charlotte admitted breathlessly. Lovely and completely in the dark of the foolishness of her youngest daughter.

Miss Stark shook her head, biting her lip as she did.

"Fuck.", She groaned, as she dropped her head into her hands. "Fucking hell, Charlotte!"

The swearing made her jump. But could she blame Miss Stark for her choice of words?

"What's wrong?", She wanted to know, rushing towards her. "What did I do? What did Mama do?"

"Nothing!", she snapped. "That's the whole fucking point."

She ran a hand through her hair.

"You're…you're not like us - fuck - I never should have said a thing.”

“No,”

Now it was her voice to add sharpness.

“It was far time I knew.”

All this pain, confusion and betrayal she felt was infinitely better than the puppet on a string she had been before, oblivious and foolish, pouring her heart, soul and energy into his castle of clouds that he conjured up only to lure her in.

It all seemed so obvious now, of course. So blatantly, tragically obvious. And the worst part was, others had seen it while she had deluded herself, and would have continued to do so if Miss Stark hadn’t told her.

Home did not bring the relief she had hoped for. Maybe, it even made it worse, as she had never missed Sybil more than now.

Sybil would listen, without laughing, without being shocked or horrified. She would listen without judging. No 'I told you so's, no 'you should have known's, no 'How could you be so foolish?'s.

But Sybil wasn't here. She was gone, off to Ireland with Branson - she could scratch his eyes out for that now more than ever!

Charlotte tried to write to her but every time she tried to put it into words she failed miserably. It never sounded right, it never captured her thoughts properly. And even putting these things in writing felt like a crime of their own.

And she burned each and every piece of paper until her room smelled of nothing but smoke.

She couldn't telephone her either. Sybil didn't have a telephone now and she couldn't dare being overheard. So she was all alone, alone with her thoughts.

She went riding before breakfast so as to avoid the conversation, and took long walks in the afternoon.

But no matter how fast or far she galloped, she couldn't outrace her thoughts. Her betters had tried and failed at that, her grandmother informed her with a sharp quip.

Sleeping was difficult as well, because sometimes she would dream.

The nightmares were bad, but the other dreams were worse, those in which it was just them together, those of work and pride, when her research bled into the realm of her dreams. In those dreams, they got along, which made her want to drown herself in her shame at her own mind’s betrayal.

Her family all thought she was upset about the field marshall, with her mother perhaps taking Miss Stark, Lizzie now as she insisted she call her, into account. And in a way they were right.

Tommy killed him.

Tommy shot him in the head with his own gun and killed him.

Tommy made Lizzie lure the man away, who hurt her and then Tommy shot him in the head with his own gun and killed him.

Because that's what Tommy does. He kills people. He hurts people. He blinds people. He uses his own brothers like soldiers.

Lizzie had told her.

That and so much more.

The man she admired, the man she had been so desperate to impress, the man who had made her feel more useful and valued than any other person in her whole life. And for what?

She hadn’t understood who the inspector was, or what that had to do with guns and the IRA and a barmaid. But she had known Mr Churchill - how relieved she had felt when hearing his name, a small sliver of familiarity in the chaos of Lizzie’s words, only for that to be turned on it’s head.

Advantage was what she had said. Insurance.

During the meals, she tried to keep to herself as much as possible and avoid conversation.

There was always something more important than her to discuss and she happily let them.

Right now, the topic of the week was the garden party for the hospital.

Now, with the war over, it has come up again.

"I doubt anyone would be comfortable after what happened last time.", her mother said.

What a different time that had been. What a different world.

"We don't need reminding."

"It gives the village an opportunity to show unity in support for the hospital, especially after the war.", Granny insisted.

"On that we agree.", Isobel said. "Speaking of hospitals- Charlotte, how are your preparations going?"

Charlotte glanced up, confused at what she was asking.

"Preparations for what?", her mother asked.

Isobel responded and in her answer, reminded her.

"Charlotte is set to meet with a few doctors for the children's hospital in Birmingham next week."

The wine in her glass trembled just slightly

That seemed a lifetime ago now. Or maybe a life that wasn't her own. One of make-believe and stupidity.

"I've been helping her prepare."

Isobel smiled at her and she tried to smile back, but the muscles in her face fought the motion.

"If I can give you one bit of advice, talk to the nurses. They know more about the day-to -day runnings of the hospital than the doctors."

"Naturally you would say that.", Granny quipped.

"When are you going?", her mother wanted to know.

Charlotte cleared her throat and glanced down at her hands. They were still trembling.

"The meeting is next Tuesday.", She said softly.

"Are you sure you should be going?”, Cora asked, a line of concern between her brows.

"I think she most certainly should.", Isobel argued. "It is her project and she is very well prepared."

"I disagree.", her father said said, "Charlotte should take some time to rest, especially after the shock."

Don't I know it, she thought bitterly.

"But some distraction might do her good.", Isobel argued.

"I agree with Robert.", Matthew said uncommonly forcefully, "besides, there are a great many causes and distractions closer to Downton. I've heard there is an organisation in Ripon that specialises in helping children with reading difficulties."

"Goodness- how intriguing!", Mary scoffed, her eyes finding the back of her head.

"The last thing Charlotte should do is take on another cause!", Granny argued. "She’s a lady, and they’re working her like a ploughhorse."

"Although I must protest your comparison, I agree that she already has a cause and a very worthy one at that.", Isobel said.

It was Edith who spoke up next.

"I'm sorry, but Charlotte, do you even want to go?”

That made them all fall silent and Charlotte wished they would have continued to fight, but now all eyes were on her.

The worst part was, now everyone knew that it was happening on Tuesday. And they would all wait for it.

"I, ahm, I don't know yet.", She said softly. "It depends, I guess."

That was an answer that made everyone at the table unhappy, giving neither side more ammunition, or another enemy to strike at.

Come next morning, she received a call just after breakfast.

"How are you?", She asked, like she had asked in every call.

"I'll manage.", The other woman replied. "What about you?"

"I'm trying to figure out how to manage.", She said truthfully, which made her chest tighten in shame. It should be the other way around. She had only heard of the bad things, Lizzie had been forced to live them.

"Look- about what I told you…"

"I'm glad you did, Lizzie, truly.", She said quickly.

There was silence for a while.

"So you went to work again.", Charlotte stated.

I wouldn’t have. I would have reported him to the police, and everyone else too.

"Yes."

"How was it?", She asked.

"He's walking on eggshells."

As he should.

Well, he should be in prison awaiting a trail at the King’s Court, not walking on eggshells, but that was the least he could do.

What he had done to her was cruel and so terribly heartless and Charlotte found it entirely unforgivable, but it wasn’t hers to forgive. It was Lizzie’s and so she kept her mouth shut in regards to the outrage she felt.

"Are you coming back?", Lizzie wanted to know after the screaming silence.

Charlotte sighed and rubbed her temple.

"I don't know, Lizzie.", She said truthfully. "I don't know anything anymore."

When she went out with the horse, she rode until she felt her lungs would burst, but neither the horse, nor the grass, trees or the wind could tell her an answer.

If Sybil was here, she could choose for me.

But she wasn’t and so Charlotte was all alone with her horses and the storm in her mind.

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

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#welcome to downton mr shelby #charlotte crawley #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #downton abbey #peaky blinders crossover #peaky blinders downton abbey crossover #wtdms

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