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deliceta · 2 days ago

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— lust after 𝒽ours.

warnings!( prof×student, degradation, squirting, knotting, pussy slapping hehe (ᵕ—ᴗ—), pure filth. )

grinding your plump ass down on your professor's clothed cock, little whines jumping out of your throat. sunghoon’s chest to your back, sunghoon moans in your ear, snaking a hand underneath your shirt as the other slips up your skirt.

"no panties hm?"

you bit your lip, leaning back into sunghoon as your hips don't stop, spilling sweet slick onto your professor’s pants.

"you're such a slut, walking about with no panties. you want to let everyone see your little pussy and clit, don't you?"

your thighs shift together at the sweet degradation, nipples now poking out of your shirt from arousal.

"now you're pathetically grinding on your professor... anyone could walk in, you know? but you would like that, whore."

sunghoon fondles your little clit, making it practically disappear in his huge hands. you choked on a moan, squirming in lap.

"i love it, i love being a slut for you professor - hnng!" you moan, as your clit gets fondled so roughly.

sunghoon bites your ear as he grabs a handful of one of your big tits, rolling it in his hand. you let out a loud moan, gasping in pleasure. your tits are extra sensitive.

"of course you do, you would just bend over for any man, wouldn't you? you don't even care if it's your professor," sunghoon’s deep voice whispers in your ear, making you shiver.

"n-no, i only wanted you, professor ," you reply softly.

sunghoon stops all movement, leaving you in his lap.

suddenly you’re spun around in your professor's lap.

you stare up at your professor, pussy still throbbing in arousal. the professor’s face is unreadable but serious, making you tremble in his lap.

you let out a surprised moan once a finger is shoved into your needy pussy, gripping onto sunghoon’s dress shirt.

"do you even know what you're saying, y/!?" sunghoon growls, thrusting his finger into your slick filled cunt. he barely gives you time to adjust, shoving in another thick finger.

"a-ah- w-wait-!" you helplessly moan, your professor shaking up your pretty cunt. sunghoon yanks your shirt up and your plump tits bounce out, making you blush.

"p-professor," you moan as sunghoon takes a nipple into his hot mouth, licking up the sweet bud. sunghoon fingers don't stop, curling them up.

"a-ah!" you yelp as your body jolts up, sunghoon’s thick fingers grinding against your walls. "i-it's too much hnng!"

sunghoon was all talkative before, now he's focused on ruining the sweet little girl on his lap. he fondles another tit with his free hand, roughly pinching your nipple.

"p-professor, s-stop i'm gonna cum!"

sunghoon doesn't pay much heed to your warning, instead latching his mouth on your other nipple, sucking and rolling it in his mouth.

sunghoon slips in a third finger, thrusting his fingers up and down to shake up your pussy. you scream, he’s hitting your spot at such a fast pace.

"s-stop, professor , s-stop! i can't-!" you desperately moan but you don’t make your professor halt. sunghoon only goes harder, thick fingers working magic in your cunt.

a few more rough shakes and teeth grazing your nipple is all it takes for you to lose it.

you moan, cumming all over your pretty skirt, arching your body in pleasure, almost falling over if it weren't for the professor’s free arm supporting your back. you cry out, tears spilling onto your cheeks, cumming harder than you ever had by yourself.

but what shocks the both of you is the rush of thin slick all over the professor’s hand.

you squirt, screaming through the pleasure, even dirtying the sunghoon’s pants beneath you. you can't stop, moaning and sobbing through it. sunghoon pulls away from your chest in amazement. you’re trembling in your professor's grip and sunghoon can clearly feel your thighs shaking.

you finally manage to stop squirting, going boneless and limp in the professor’s arms.

sunghoon groans at the sight, slipping his fingers out with a wet /squelch/ that you didn’t have the mind to be embarrassed about.

you’re panting hard, chest rapidly rising and falling. you’re drooling, eyes glazed over; so fucked out.

"you are so fucking hot, y/n." sunghoon said while kissing you, leaving you all breathless, barely able to kiss back.

"hnng," is all you can manage, trying to kiss back, weakly gripping onto your professor's shirt.

sunghoon rolls his hips forward and the you moan wantonly, feeling the hard clothed bulge rub against your exposed pussy. your wet pussy twitches, spilling slick all over the bulge.

you grind down on your professor's cock again, making the both of you moan into each other's mouths. you pull away, resting your forehead against your professor’s as you try to catch your breath.

"p-professor," you softly call out and the proffered hums. "p-please… fuck me."

the older curses under his breath in arousal and you clearly feel his cock twitch underneath you. you giggle before grinding down on it once more.

"make me squirt again, professor."

you gasp as the professor suddenly picks you up and pushes you onto the desk. the professor presses your thighs against your chest, causing your skirt to flip and expose your wet, ruined pussy. you blush at the cool air on your pussy as well as your professor staring at your stretched pussy so closely.

"you want my cock so bad huh?" sunghoon questions as he slaps your swollen pussy. you gasp in surprise, jolting with the harsh slap.

"oh? you like this, don't you?" he lifts his hand to show you the slick all over it. "one slap and you're leaking all over my hand."

sunghoon rains another slap, and you cry out, pussy pulsating at the sweet pain. you whine and wiggle your ass.

"please your cock hng ah!" another slap onto your pussy sends you arching and squirming.

“patience,slut”

you whimper, taking slap after slap on your pussy, soon leaking all over your professor's hand and drooling at the numb pleasure.

sunghoon unexpectedly slaps your little clit and you scream before squirting all over the table.

you cry, tears running down your cheeks as you’re squirting uncontrollably from your gaping pussy, thighs trembling through it. you’re arching on the table, toes curling at the intense pleasure as the professor strokes your thigh through it.

you soon come down, panting heavily as you tremble underneath your professor's grip.

"hnng," you whine, completely blissed out and unfocused. you reach out blindly, whimpering, "p-professor."

the older man is instantly holding your hand, using his other hand to brush your hair out of your face.

"you did so well, baby," sunghoon praises, giving you a quick kiss. "here's your reward."

you hear the professor taking off his belt before you feel him raw, hard cock grinding against your slick pussy. one grind and his cock is practically coated with slick. you whine, wanting the cock you’ve been yearning for so long.

your jaw goes slack with a debauched moan as he finally slides in.

inch after inch disappearing into your swollen rim, making the both of you groan heavily.

you swear you’ve never been more stuffed full in your life, the professor’s cock is so fat, so long.

despite you being fingered and worked open, your slick pussy still clamps down hard onto sunghoon’s cock. you curse loudly as he pushes to the hilt, until his balls hit your cheeks. you feel the zipper of the professor’s pants run against your skin, blushing as you realize you’re all exposed as your professor is all clothed and professional.

sunghoon sits balls deep as he tries to learn how to breathe again with how tight and wet the girl in front of him is. and you can't wrap your head around how fucking /huge/ your professor is, panting hard and feeling so full.

“y-you’re so big, professor hng stretches out my pussy so wide,” you say, feeling the fat cock twitch in your pussy and you’re half delirious already.

after a minute, the professor does a small grind into your pussy and that alone sends you arching up, pussy twitching around the thick cock.

"hng wait i'm still- ah, sensitive," you beg, trembling already. the professor bites back a groan, the sweet pussy so snug around his cock.

sunghoon cannot hold back anymore, drawing his hips back before slamming it in balls deep once again. you choke on a moan, spent pussy spurting cum all over your inner thighs.

"p-professor w-wait…!" you desperately moan, unable to stop sunghoon’s hips from using your pussy.

"what? thought you wanted my cock," sunghoon teases, angling his hips to try to find the your sweet spot. you jolt, jaw dropping in an intense silent scream as a feeling of euphoria washes over you and the professor smirks, knowing he hit the spot dead on.

your pussy is all red and swollen, oozing with loads of cum even after cumming twice already. it cutely bobs with each thrust of sunghoon’s monster cock, making the older chuckle.

"it's so cute.." sunghoon comments, flicking your small clit, making you gasp and sob. "so useless… you're just a little slut that is made to be fucked anyways, it's no wonder."

"o-only want- hng! professor's cock," you manage to get out through your tears and moans, delicate hand shooting out to place it on top of the alpha's big one holding your thigh.

the professor goes silent.

before he pulls out all the way and /slams/ back in.

you immediately cry out, head thrown back as the entrance of your womb is hit by the tip of the professor’s cock.

"I hope you know-" sunghoon pulls back slowly and then harshly slams back in, causing you to brokenly cry out, thighs trembling. "what this means," he finishes.

you moan, feeling the beginning of the professor’s growing knot against your swollen rim, wiggling your hips down to try and get it deeper. you clench down hard, as if you were trying to suck in the professor’s cock and knot. sunghoon throws his head back at the incredibly tight pussy wrapped around his cock, staining it all over with sticky precum.

"p-please… knot me professor."

and that's all it takes for him to grunt and shove his half knot into your pussy.

you scream, cumming all over yourself as you feel him entering your fertile womb. he moans at you clenching down with his orgasm, knot inflating to the max, plugging up your sweet pussy.

you cry at the stretch, trembling violently as you squirts all over the cock. however, it's all plugged up by the professor's cock, making you feel so full.

sunghoon’s face scrunches up in pleasure, and spurts loads of thick semen straight into the your womb, unable to hold back any longer.

he curses and throws his head back, hips grinding to ride out his release. you squeal, own little spent pussy squirting a bit more cum at the fat knot rubbing /right/ against your sweet spot.

the tight womb pulsates around sunghoon’s cock, causing you to moan once again, milking out a few more spurts of potent professor’s semen.

the two of you are soon able to finally stop cumming, and the professor drops down, resting his forehead onto yours. you both take a moment to catch your breaths, panting heavily and all sweaty.

you’re the first one to move, arm coming up to the back of sunghoon’s neck to pull him down for a light kiss. sunghoon kisses you back before pulling away to plant kisses on your nose, cheeks, and forehead.

you softly giggle, so happy to be in the arms of your professor.

"let's get you into a more comfortable position, hm?" he says and you nod before wrapping your arms around sunghoon’s broad shoulders.

he lifts you up and sits back into the chair so you’re sitting in his lap, still stuck on his knot.

you pull cuddles into sunghoon’s neck, sniffing his manly scent, making the older man smile softly, holding you close.

"y/n," he calls and the you hum in acknowledgement. "I don't know what this all means."

you pull back to face the taller man as you feel a pair of hands circle your waist, eyebrows furrowing in worry.

"but it doesn't mean I don't want to try, that's not what I meant ." he is quick to chastise, making you visibly relax in his arms. "I meant let's take this slow and not rush into things hm?"

"okay, let's do that," you smile, leaning forward to give sunghoon a quick kiss before snuggling back into his shoulder.

you both relax and chat lightly, cuddling with each other as the professor’s knot slowly goes down. once it deflates enough, you stutters, face flushing red.

"is something wrong?" sunghoon worriedly cups your red cheeks.

"it's just- uhm your cum…"

"my what?"

"your cum is leaking out professor…"

"oh…"

"hng how do I get up then?"

sunghoon suddenly gets an idea, smirking and you tilt your head in confusion.

"what?"

he doesn’t answer, carefully laying you onto the desk again before pulling out. you blush at the dirty squelch your pussy made, so fucked out with cum and slick.

he squats down and licks up all the cum from your ruined cunt and you immediately close your legs around the professor's head, whimpering. you weakly moans as the professor cleans up your leaking pussy.

the professor stands up, tipping your chin slightly up.

"open."

you obey and the professor opens your mouth and sticks his tongue, letting his own semen drip into your mouth.

you moan, collecting all the semen into your mouth eagerly, as if you were grateful for the gift. sunghoon finishes, holding your rosy cheeks with one hand to look at your mouth all full with his semen. he proudly smirks at the sight.

"swallow."

you obey again, gulping down all the cum in mouth. you open your mouth and stick your tongue out to show you drank it all down.

"good girl," he praises, petting your hair.

he grabs some tissues and wet wipes to clean the both of you as best as he can, as well the desk.

"ah this should do for now," he says as throws away the wipes and you shyly nods, feeling so vulnerable but safe.

sunghoon then pulls down your shirt to dress you before he reaches over to get an extra long sleeved shirt he keeps near his desk. sunghoon dresses you in it to make sure you’re warm and covered. he quickly tucks himself back into his pants and zips it up.

"cmon, i'll take you to my place." he reaches out to take your delicate hand. "don't worry, we'll just shower and sleep okay? I don't want to leave you alone..."

you nod with a smile before hopping off the desk, your skirt flowing down at the same time. you wobble, latching onto your professor for support.

you both laugh and the professor soon ends up carrying you on his back to the car. you’re lucky this is a time where not many staff or students are around.

he gently places you into the passenger seat before getting into the other side. the professor smiles, noticing how small you look in your seat.

the professor starts driving with some soft music on the late night radio as you’re staring out the window aimlessly. you suddenly feels a big hand on your bare thigh, making you turn your head.

sunghoon is focusing on driving but there's a smile clear on his face, making you smile too, warmth spreading through your chest.

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maddascanbe-blog · 1 day ago

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The Department of Unearthly Inhabitation

"Ma'am we understand if you don't want to maintain the property, but if you don't sell it soon, it will be repossessed." Cross told the irritating young lady.

"That castle been in my family for generations!" She insisted. This was false. It was bought by the previous owner's parents as extra storage and was maintained by their son while he attended university.

Looker was fully aware of this fact, as well as the fact that this young irritant had refused to pay the remaining staff. They left, and now no one was handling the property in question.

"You can't just steal my inheritance!" The Lady shouted at them.

Cross sighed. "Ma'am, it's not us who would be repossessed it. You can either make sure someone is living there now, or you'll have a non-living tenant soon enough. Then you'd have to find some Mage to chase whatever it is out!"

With it becoming clear that there was no getting through to this woman, Looker marked 'Would not accept assistance' on the form, and both walked back to their truck.

"I take it things went poorly?" Carrey asked from her position in the drivers seat.

"Shut up." Cross snapped, already at his wits end.

Looker took up the passenger seat, and they started driving.

"Where to?" Carrey asked as they approached a crossroads.

Looker flipped open a leather bound book. "We're meant to investigate the Vastly estate. They think something has moved into the property. Someone went missing 7, so it got bumped up on priority."

As it turns out, things had only worsened.

"We don't understand!" Lord Vastly insisted. "We're very careful, even the farthest reached of the property we keep in top form! There are wards against Fair-folk in the woods and fields to prevent circles from forming. But now two of our staff have vanished without a trace!"

Looker put up a hand, "What path are these people taking? Tell me exactly."

They rode the rest of the way with Cross, bemoaning the incoming heache of paperwork they were sure to meet when they made it back to the office.

At the edge of a forested area, they stopped the truck, and Carrey hopped out.

The second her feet touched the soil, she held up a hand to alert the other two.

"Smell that?" She asked.

"No." Cross said plainly. "You know we can't smell things like you, so fill us in."

Carrey took a deep breath. "Smells like rot."

Cross and Looker exchanged glances.

"Perhaps this day might be interesting after all." Looker suggested.

This wasn't bartering with the Fae to get two wayward souls back.

Carrey grabbed a long iron wire from the back of the truck and made a ring around the truck.

Looker took a few seeds from his pocket and pressed them into the ground. Hypericum bloomed after a moment.

Cross was pulling on his jacket and tossed a bag to his teammates.

"Go, record, call the hunters if need be." He told them sternly as they saundered over to the woods.

"Displaced earth." Carrey announced, pointing past Cross and to the left of the group.

"Smell that, did you?" Cross teased, he adjusted the weight on his back.

True to her word, there was a large mound of dirt piled up on two sides of a hole. As they approached, the other smell she'd mentioned, the rot, became clearer, too.

Looker placed a hand to the earth. "Recent. There's something down there, something that just now was let out."

"I'll get the rope." Carrey turned on her heel and headed back to the van, but Cross was too impatient to wait.

He flicked on his flashlight and jumped down into the pit. "Hello! Department of Unearthly Inhabitation! If there is anyone living or non, please announce your presence!"

They heard silence. Cross's flashlight landed on a decomposing newly dead wearing the employee uniform of the property.

"Looker!" Cross called up, "get down here. We've got a body."

Looker's boots hit the floor as he joined his boss. He pulled on a glove and carefully pried open the corpses mouth. Then, I placed a coin inside.

"That'll keep 'em quiet until we can move them." He assures Cross who was still scanning the cavern.

"Looker-" He said again. Showing another two bodies. One had another uniform, but the other was only bone.

Stepping forward again, Cross's flashlight revealed more and more bodies. All of them were reduced to skeletons and in some places were broken.

"Someone's digging up a Pottersfeild…" Looker realized.

"Yeah." Cross began to move back to the entrance. "Carrey! Pull us up!"

"One second!!" Came the slightly far off reply.

"Cross-" Looker pressed a hand to the floor. "Somethings been moving in here, recently."

His boss did not look happy to hear that. "Carrey! Now!"

"I'm hurrying!" She shouted.

The rustle of bone met Cross' ears as he turned to the darkness around them.

"Cross-" Looker said again.

"I know." The man spat.

"Cross!"

"I Know!"

Bones and earth wre pulling together. Not one body, dozens of bodies, recently unearthed.

An unmarked mass grave that some idiot had decided to dig up!

The rope Carrey had retrieved fell down and Cross shoved Looker to it as the mass opened dozens of shattered jaws and screamed an unholy sound at them.

Cross retrieved a long wide balde from his back. Golden runes came alight along the blade.

The Department of Unearthly Inhabitation could hardly leave their employees unprepared, could they?

Two universal constants of high fantasy living:

If something falls into ruin a necromancer will move in 100% of the time

There is a critical mass of gold that will summon a dragon. If you keep accurate records and stay below it you’ll be fine

#short story #i was inspired #writing inspiration #fantasy #I write this in my notes app

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lovegalor333 · 3 days ago

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˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

woman crush wednesday pt 2 (previous part)

summary: you and paige finally go on the long awaited date

content warnings: none!

It had been three weeks since your first phone call with Paige and since then, it has become a nightly occurrence. Talking and giggling into the early hours until sleep eventually takes over. You have fallen asleep on FaceTime a few times too, waking in the morning to Paige silently getting ready for her day.

You both had busy schedules but they had finally aligned and Paige was coming into the city to see you for the first time. Even though you felt like you knew Paige decently well after hours of calls, you were still nervous. Meeting someone for the first time spiked your fight or flight. What if you wasn’t how Paige had imagined you? What if seeing you in real life made her feel differently?

You settled your nerves with a small glass of wine as you got yourself ready. It was a crisp autumnal evening in New York City and you both had decided on getting a coffee from your favourite place and walking around Central Park would be perfect for your first date.

You and Paige were similar in the sense, you were both really simple girls. You enjoyed being home and didn’t care for the lavish things in life. You were looking forward to just spending time with Paige, talking to her and being able to look in her eyes as she stood in front of you, rather than through a screen.

Paige was getting to your apartment at 5PM and it was almost that time so you applied a final layer of lip balm, a few spritz of your favourite perfume and readied yourself to leave.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, Paige was here.

Your stomach fluttered as you rode the elevator down, you took in a few deep breaths and checked your reflection in the mirror. You had kept your outfit simple and makeup to a minimum. Paige was used to seeing you on stage or red carpets, you wanted her to see the real you today.

The elevator opened and there she was, in all her glory. She looked even better in person if that was possible, she looked like a goddess through the FaceTime camera but the way her eyes shone and skin glistened while she was just metres away from you had you lost for words. Her hair was down and straight, tucked behind her ears and she was wearing khaki pants with matching trainers and a pink and brown shirt. Why were you already imagining yourself wearing it? It would hang on your body oversized and it would probably smell like her.

“Hello Y/N.” Paige breaks your daydream, a smile spreading on her face as you walk towards her.

“Hi Paige.” You say shyly and she opens her arms for a hug and you step into it so naturally any nerves you had vanish within seconds.

“You look gorgeous.” She complements as you pull apart and you feel your cheeks heat up even though she’s said that every time you’ve been on video call even when your half asleep with messy hair and in your pyjamas.

“Thank you. You look great. I’m not used to seeing you wear a shirt.” You joke as most of the time, Paige calls you post practice and she’s almost always in her sports bra.

“I can take this off but let’s get that coffee first.” She says cheekily and her hand falls to the small of your back as she leads you out of the apartment building.

You and Paige argue over who’s paying for your drinks as the barista watches you both grapple to reach the card reader.

“It was my suggestion. Let me pay.” You state.

“I’m taking you on a date. Let me pay.” Paige quips back.

“But you traveled into the city. Let me.”

“Y/N put the damn card away. I’m paying.” Her voice is assertive and dominant and her arm stretches over you to tap her card.

“Thank you.” You say as you collect the drink, “You’re welcome but never do that again. As long as you’re with me, everythings on me.”

“Paige-“

“No arguememts, gorgeous.”

Yes ma’am.

The walk to Central Park is quick and filled with lighthearted chatter, between you and Paige. She reaches out to touch you multiple times. Her hand grazing your cheek to move a piece of hair, a protective arm around your waist as you cross the road and each time you felt your skin tingle and then a sense of longing once the moment was over.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You say as you find a secluded bench to sit on together. You sit so close, your legs are touching and Paige places a hand on your thigh, “I am too. Sorry it told so long for me to figure out.”

“It’s OK, I know you’re busy. I am too. But what do they say? Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that.” The last bit comes out of your mouth without you realising.

“Your heart is fond of me?” Paige asks, the corners of her mouth curving up slightly and you feel a blush creeping onto your face.

“I didn’t- I don’t-“ You stutter out, unsure of how it would make Paige feel.

“No. Don’t backtrack. My heart is fond of you too. I wouldn’t spend every night speaking to you or I wouldn’t have drove three hours here if it wasn’t.”

“Really?” You ask, averting your gaze because it felt weird hearing that from someone. You weren’t a relationship girl, in fact you’d only ever been in one relationship and it was so far from perfect, you didn’t think people like Paige existed.

“Yes really, gorgeous.” Paige confirms, lifting your chin so you’re looking at her again.

“I thought maybe I was being too full on. I know people don’t like that.” You say, now looking into her eyes. Her blue, blue eyes.

“I’m not people. I’m Paige and you could never be too full on with me.”

“In that case…my heart is definitely fond of you.” You admit, now mirroring Paiges soft smile.

The air is charged as you sit looking into each others eyes, Paiges hand still firmly rested on your thigh. She glances down and your lips and you glance down at hers. Her tongue pokes out to run across them and your breathing hitches at the way they look, so plump and wet, slightly apart and you begin to lean in as she does the same.

Paiges hand leaves your thigh and finds your neck as your lips meet in a needy but gentle kiss. She pushes into it, her tongue slipping into your mouth and you moan at the sensation. You’ve thought about this moment, dreamed about it so many times but nothing could have prepared you for how it felt. Her fingers tangling into the back of your hair, her soft skin under your fingertips, her scent the only thing you can smell.

You’re both left red cheeked and slightly breathless and you can’t help but giggle at each other and as you do, the heavens open and rain begins to pour. You gasp at the feeling of water already seeping through your clothes and wetting your skin.

“Typical.” Paige laughs and she grabs your hand pulling you up from the bench and you both start running.

“Where are we going?” You ask trying your best to match Paiges strides.

The rain was heavy, already dripping down your face, blurring your vision and you kept a tight grip on Paiges hand hoping that she would lead the way.

“To find shelter…so I can kiss you again.” Paige breathes out and she looks to you, her hair so wet, it looks a few shades darker.

“We’re already drenched.” You say, her shirt is stuck to her skin, outlining her muscular physique and you can feel rain leaking into your shoes with every step you take.

Paige stops running but you can’t stop fast enough so you bump into her and she grabs your waist, balancing you, “You’re right. We are drenched so we might as well stay right here.” She says and she crashes her lips to yours again. It’s hungrier this time, her hand is firm on your waist as the rain batters down on you both, you grip onto her shirt, pulling her closer, wanting more, needing more.

You don’t care that you’re in the middle of Central Park, in the pouring rain. You care that you’re with Paige, finally and it’s better than you ever expected.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: hi i actually hate this 😖 i didn’t write for a few days while i was moving house and i feel like i’ve forgotten how to…

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wcbb #wlw #lgbtq #fanfic #lovegalor333 #paige x reader #oneshot #blurb #sophs works 🪽

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sexy-monster-fucker · 3 days ago

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Santa, Baby

Santa!Art the Clown x F!Reader SMUT

Summary: There’s a Christmas Party at the club the reader works at. After bumping into a strange man in the streets, she spreads the word of the party.

cw: isn’t art his own warning??, choking, fingering, mentions of blood, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, mentions of kidnapping, biting, violence, p in v, hair pulling, scratching, blood play, overstimulation, creampie,

a/n: imma be real with yall, if you can’t handle watching the Terrifier movies don’t read fanfiction about Art bc tagging all this stuff in the warning was CRAZY lmao

~~~

It was the Saturday before Christmas.

Some people were out shopping, other’s having festive dinner with their loved ones. And then there was you. Getting dressed up in a slutty, red Santa-dress. It sat high upon your thighs, if you even attempted to bend over your matching red lacy underwear would be on full display.

Hoping the outfit would get you better tips. Maybe even a cute guy for you to play around with. Twirling Round in the mirror before leaving your house.

The weather was nice, so you opted to walk. You did not live that far away from work, sometimes the car was easier. But you could not lie that the thought of you turning heads on the street sent a thrill through you.

As you walked down the street, you bumped into a pale man wearing a Santa outfit. Knocking his black trash bag out of his grasp. White wig, red hat and jumpsuit, and big black shoes. Noticing his crooked nose and clown-like face paint. Rather peculiar for this time of year. Almost a mix of Halloween and Christmas.

His mouth formed an ‘O’ when your eyes met. Brows quickly furrowing down at you.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” you quickly apologized. Leaning down to pick up the bag for him. Your breasts peaking through the top of your tight dress. His eyes found themselves looking down your dress. Unable to deny his mind wandering to a perverted place. Not usually the type to feel this type of thing for people. Only desire he had being to kill and be covered in their blood. But something about you made a different part of him crave you.

“I like your costume,” you complimented, “There’s this Christmas Party down at the club if you’re interested.” You dug in your purse for one of the flyers. Giving it to him. Silently examining the pamphlet, his brows raised as he nodded. You both awkwardly stood on the sidewalk. Creepy smile never leaving the clown’s face. You continued to smile back at him, eyes looking around. “Silent type? How mysterious, I like it,” you tapped your fingers against his chest, “Hopefully I’ll see you there tonight, I’ve gotta get going. Bye!” You waved him off as you walked past him. His stiff body following you until he was facing the same direction. Eyes never leaving you. Peering at how your hips swayed and ass bounced in the dress.

What was wrong with him?

You headed down to the street the club was on. Waving at the bouncer, unable to stop himself from eye-fucking you in that dress. Booping him on the nose as you entered.

The club was decorated in all Christmas lights. A handful of fake trees placed along the floor. Everyone dressed up as different holiday characters. Elves, Snowmen, Reindeer, the whole nine yards. You were greeted by your happy coworkers as you took your place behind the bar. Preparing for the night of heavy drinkers ahead. Unable to get that clown out of your mind.

The Club was booming. Extremely loud Christmas remixes, people singing along and grinding together filled the scene. Strobing lights decorated the walls as the big projected screen behind the DJ showed clips of old Christmas movies without sound. It was difficult to hear your customers like this, good thing you could read lips.

There was finally a dry spell at the bar. Giving you time to stretch your neck and legs. Rolling your shoulders as you softly bobbed your head to the music. Taking a drink of water from your bottle. Almost every seat at the bar was taken. People hitting on each other, drinking away their sorrows, and some groups filled the seats. When a familiar face sat on your side of the bar. Loud garbage bag clanged against the floor. Causing you to jump out of your skin. Eyes peered over to the source.

White and Black face paint. It was the guy from the street. Your expression beamed at him. “Hey! You came by,” you reached a hand out to him in excitement. Wide smile painted across his face as he nodded at you. Still as silent as ever.

“I’m so glad you decided to come by. Still looking good in that Santa outfit I see,” you flirted. He snickered as he tucked his face into his shoulder, pretending that your words were embarrassing him. Hands coming up to wave off your compliment. Gesturing to your body, silently complimenting you.

You walked around the bar, hands tip-toeing up his arm, “Think you’re looking for a Mrs. Claus?”

The Clown tilted his head to the side. Eyes scanning your entire body, resting on your breasts with a devious smile. Looking up at you through his lashes, nodding slowly. You smiled at him.

“Can you cover me?” You called out to your coworker behind the bar. She gave a thumbs up as she poured a shot for a customer. You smiled giddily at him. His brows raising as he returned the look. He stood from his seat, towering over you. He was so tall. Long fingers wrapped around your wrist as he dragged you down a dark hallway. Garbage bag occasionally scraping the wall. He led you around as if he knew the place. Familiar with the proper hiding spots. Arousal pooled deep in your bones. Where his hand held your wrist ignited throughout your body.

He stopped in front of a dingy door to an abandoned bathroom. Opening it and allowing you in first. It was dark in the old bathroom. You never used this one, reserved for occasional hookups and doing lines for your coworkers. The mysterious clown flicked on the dimly yellow bulb. Pointing excitedly towards the old stained mirror. The words “Art Was Here” was written in some type of red. Assuming it was some lipstick.

“Is that your name?”

Art nodded happily. Jumping up and down and clapping. You leaned against the cold brick wall. Arms folded over your chest as you stared at him. Examining his tall figure. His loosely fitting Santa costume leaving most of him up to your imagination. Except for those hands. Long, strong fingers. Barely peaking out of the fingerless gloves he wore.

His expression dropped suddenly. Brows falling in a straight line over his eyes. Mouth sealed with a hint of a frown. You felt your heartbeat speed up. A small amount of fear taking over at his sudden mood change. His head tilted slightly, eyes tracing your body. Your eyes darted around the dark room unsure of what his next move was. Was he going to fuck you? Kill you? Maybe nothing at all.

Before you could open your mouth he lunged at you. Thick fingers wrapped around your throat. Strong grasp around your windpipe. Pulling every bit of air out of you. Your eyes widened at him. A smirk of mischief painting the corner of his mouth. Leaning forward as if he was going to kiss you, turning into a long stripe licked up your face. Shoulders bounced with silent laughter. Fingers tightening around your jugular. You could feel yourself struggling to breathe. Vision growing slightly blurry with each passing minute. Art’s fingers traced down your body, squeezing your breasts along the way. Hooked up under your dress. Raising his eyebrows in surprise when he felt your lacy panties soaking wet. Wagging his finger at you, partially shaming you for your arousal.

You gasped for air that you did not receive. Feeling woozy. Art’s finger going back down to your aching core, circling your clit with two fingers. A broken moan escaped your throat. Dark eyes stared at your face. Watching how it contorted when he would hit the spot you liked. Feeling his cock growing with the pathetic noises you made.

Just as you felt yourself about to faint, Art removed his hand from your neck. Your own hand replaced his as you began heaving for air. Sliding slightly down the wall, firmer against his fingers. He puckered his lip out mocking the tears that stained the corners of your eyes. Your moans were far louder now. Being able to fully express yourself and the harder feeling of his fingers. His dark eyes watched how your chest bounced with each moan you let out.

Art slipped his middle finger under your panties, sliding it into your soaked folds. Causing your body to buckle forward against him. Grabbing his shoulder for support as your legs grew shaky and weak. Emotionless eyes met yours. Face still and unmoving as you pleaded up at him with your doe eyes. Curling his finger while the others continue circling your clit. His name fell from you in a cry as you felt that familiar tightening in your lower abdomen.

He knew his way around the human body, that was for sure. Knowing all the right places to inflict pain or pleasure. Usually he enjoyed seeing the way people would desperately run from him, crying out in pain when he would strike them down. Loving the way blood and guts warmed up his hands. But here he was, keeping you in tact while still feeling your insides. Adoring the way your sensitive insides clamped around his finger. How your body begged for him to please it. Walls pulling him deeper into you. Still getting that same pleasure as he watched you cry out and cling to him. The way tears stained under your eyes and fingers dug into his skin pooling inside him. Feeling his own arousal begin growing in his oversized pants.

You began thrusting up and down on his fingers. Widening his eyes as he watched you chase your high with his fingers. Opting to slide another into you, curling and scraping against your insides. Grazing that spongey spot that sent electricity through you. Curiosity painted his expression now. With one final curl of fingers, you came undone around him. Walls fluttering and sucking in his fingers. Arousal leaking down his digits as he continued pumping into you. Your entire body began shaking as you dug your fingers into his shoulders, having to hold them both to stabilize yourself. Your face curled into the crook of his neck. Skin smelling of sweat and iron.

Art pushed you against the wall. Standing stiffly in front of you as you panted. Face red with post orgasm glow. Feeling your walls clamp around nothing now. Craving something more. A closed mouth smile morphed into a wicked grin, baring his stained teeth. Examining his fingers that had been inside you. Pulling them apart while they were still connected by your arousal, a slimey rope connecting them. Taking his fingers into his mouth, sucking the taste of you off them. Eyes rolling into the back of his head. Sucking them off with a pop.

Unable to deny that that did something for you. Your chest was tight as you looked his body up and down. Landing on the faint tent pitched in his pants.

The tall clown fell to his knees in front of you. Crawling over and throwing the front of your dress up. Staring at your ruined panties. Soaked lace sticking to your lips. His hand rubbed up your leg, with a tug of brute force ripping your panties off in one go. Cold air hitting your heated mound. He suddenly licked up into your pussy. Tongue dancing down the slit, lapping at the remainder of you. He took one of your legs and threw it over his shoulder, giving him better access to you.

Art ate you out like it was going to be his last meal. Sloppily, his tongue spread your folds while his hands held tightly into your thighs. His crooked nose bumping against your throbbing clit. Still overstimulated from your first orgasm. Knowing it would not take long for him to take you there again at this rate.

“Art, I’m going to cum again,” your voice was shaken.

He nodded aggressively, refusing to remove from your opening. He had found a new favorite taste. Unable to get enough of you. If he could, he would bottle your taste up and take it home with him. Or maybe even take you away with him. Lock you up in his warehouse so he could taste you whenever he wanted. He knew you would taste especially good when your period would come around. His two favorite flavors combined.

You began grinding down onto his face. Pushing his nose against your clit over and over. Chasing your secondary high, unsure how many more he would have you endure. Not really caring. If they all felt this good you would let him have you however he wanted. Unwinding on his face. Art pressed his tongue between your folds wanting to feel them contort against his it. You slid down the wall loosing yourself. Art held you up like it was no problem. A strange strength coming from him. Your eyes squinted shut momentarily trying to catch your breath.

Art continued licking until you subsided. Standing, his face covered in your juices. Oddly none of his makeup smudged. You had to find out where he bought his foundation. Hooded eyes gazed down at you. You looked so pathetic sliding into the floor in front of him. Tits rising as you panted. He pictured how your lungs looked expanding in your chest. Desire to rip you open filling his thoughts. Fading when he felt his cock throbbing.

Long digits reached out to help you to your feet. Releasing you and letting you tumble back, head hitting the cold brick. You winced when it started to ache. Silently he laughed and pointed at you. Miming you hitting your head. You scowled up at him. He definitely enjoyed your pain. Something you were too overstimulated to care about. He rolled his eyes at you when you did not laugh along with him, reaching his hand out again. Swirling his finger in a circle gesturing for you to try again.

Art pulled you flush against his chest. Stronger than anyone else you had ever been in contact with. Acting as if you weighed nothing. You fluttered your lashes up at him. Mouth hung open as you continued taking deep breaths in. Abruptly he turned you around, forcing you against the sink. Staring at him through the mirror. Watching how his hands massaged and stroked your torso in the reflection. His nose traveled from your shoulder up to your neck. Tongue coming out to lick at your throat. Pulling skin between his teeth as he sucked a deep purple bruise there. You moaned for him, loving the attention he gave to your skin. His hands gripped your chest, pulling your breasts out of your top. Cold fingertips pinched at your hardening bulbs. His eyes fixated on your chest in the mirror. Tongue traveling further up your neck until it ended behind your ear.

He was entranced by your body. Not ever taking the time to see how things changed when someone was sexually aroused. Being all too familiar with how the body acted with pure terror. Your fastening heart rate thumped against his hands. Feeling your pulse against his lips had his desires in overdrive. He could have devoured you right there. Smeared your blood all over the walls of this shit-hole bathroom. Fucked your bloodied mouth while you fought within an inch of your life to survive.

But that would not satisfy him.

Sure, your flesh ripped between his teeth would be nice. But hearing all the pathetic cries and moans you made for him was even better. The way you would whine his name was like music to his ears.

Art reached down, freeing his length from the confides of his red pants. He was swollen and leaking pre-cum. Pushing your back forward forcing you to bend over the sink. Holding yourself up with your hands as you held eye contact in the mirror. He kicked your legs apart further, making sure he could get into you. Grabbing his cock by the base and swirling it around your slick. Coating himself with you, testing the waters of how far he was willing to go. You were so warm and welcoming. He could always leave you out to dry. Just play around and never fuck you. But he needed his own release. And the way you whined his name when he dipped a little deeper his mind was made up.

Art slammed himself into you. Hands gripping your skirt upon your lower back. Watching the way your ass bounced against his cock. Wickedly grinning at the sight of him penetrating you. Tongue coming out to glaze his rotten teeth. Sound of your skin smacking mixed with your screaming moans was like music to his ears. He was relentless. Length hitting deep inside you. One of his hands tangled in your hair, arching your neck back to force you to watch in the mirror.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you called to him like a prayer each time he would sheath inside you. His long shaft stretched your entrance perfectly. You scrunched your face up and rolled your eyes back as he continued pounding into you. Mouth forming an ‘O’. Your insides spasmed around his cock as it filled you up. Art’s brows twitched with pleasure. His toothy grin was unwieldy.

His other hand gripped your ass. Nails breaking the skin as he clawed at your soft flesh. Loving how your crimson red painted your cheek. Collecting the blood on his finger tips and pressing them against your aching nub once again. Circling the sensitivity. Breath hitched in your throat as he leaned further into his grasp on your hair. Closing your eyes and screaming loudly for him. Feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly.

Art’s pace was brutal. Snapping his hips up into you. With each circle of fingers and flick of hips, you were seeing stars. Almost too drunk on cock to form sentences. Never imagining when you got dressed today your night would go like this. Lost in ecstasy of pleasure. Coil winding tighter and tighter in your stomach.

Fingers taking you to a place of pure hormonal bliss. Insides quaking and pulling him deeper. Art’s mouth shaped into an ‘O’ realizing you were cumming around his cock. Nodding with satisfaction as his dark eyes pierced into yours. Watching how drool fell out of your mouth and sweat rolled down your body.

Art pulled his fingers up, seeing the crimson red was now a softer pink. Shoving the combination of you into his mouth. Licking between his fingers like something from a porno. His shoulders relaxed as he continued fucking into you. Your entire body was shaking. Legs wobbled like they would give out on you any second.

His wet fingers rubbed at your chest. Tracing up and curling between your lips. Forcing their way into your mouth. Taking them like he wanted. He released his grip on your hair, planting the hand against your hip instead. Pinning you with his hips. Clearing chasing his own high now. Continuing to watch as he pumped his fingers into your mouth. Loving the sound of you gagging and slobbering. Feeling himself twitch inside you. His breathing picking up as he focused where he punctured you.

Watching how perfectly you sucked him in. Wanting to cum all inside you. Wanted you so filled with him you could barely walk. Knowing it would make you crave him forever. Addicted to the feeling of his seed inside you.

Hips pressed flush against yours. Shooting his white hot inside you. Coating your walls with his cum. Holding still so he could feel you milk him. He rolled his neck and leaned his head back, never having felt something this good. His chest pounded as he begged for air. Deep breaths filling his desperate lungs.

You slumped against the sink. Quivering arms and legs fighting to hold you up. Resting your head on your arms. Your cunt having been worked to its limit.

Art stood up straighter behind you. Flattening his suit down with his hands. Smiling at you in the mirror as he tucked his member back away. Waving his fingers at you.

You were unsure who this man was, but you never wanted to be apart from him.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! This is only my second time writing for Art, but I sure do love writing him. Expressing his mannerisms is so fun. If you have any requests for him, please send them my way! I look forward to future Fics! //

{tags}

@l0sercat ~ @tedi28 ~ @hyperfixated-clown ~ @papispam ~ @melaninatedhorrorqueen ~ @lcvsanaa ~ @dilfismz ~ @knoepfl ~ @tuttifuckinfruttifriday ~ @spookysquids

#art the clown #art the clown x reader #terrifier #terrifer 3 #david howard thornton #David Howard Thornton x reader #writing #fanfic #sexymonsterfics #christmas #Santa

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 21 hours ago

Text

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 10

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9

It takes a bit for Steve to go to pick up Eddie’s letter. A part of him is afraid of what he’ll find. It’s just, this will be in reply to the first letter he’d written that felt wholly like his own. So, he hesitates, afraid the words will condemn him, or there won’t be any at all. So, he stalls.

Chrissy never asks him about it, just follows his lead the way she always has when it comes to Eddie.

When he does finally go to the library to pick it up, he goes alone. Steve knows Chrissy’s going to be upset, and he gets that. It was stupid, and childish, and dangerous. He trusts Chrissy, he does, but he doesn’t want to share this response with her.

Not yet.

It’s safely tucked into his backpack; the library had felt too open—left him feeling exposed—for Steve to feel comfortable opening it there, without Chrissy there as his shield.

He’s about to enter the bathroom, ready to hunker down in a stall and read the letter when a snide voice coming from behind stops him in his tracks.

“You know, it’s fucked up that you’ve been following your girlfriend around like that.”

Steve turns, stunned. He’s stuck in the entrance to the bathroom, the swinging door hitting him in the back as he stares into the angriest set of eyes he’s ever seen.

He only recognizes her in the nebulous way everyone in a small town recognizes each other, but she’s glaring at him like he ran over her puppy without telling her.

“What?” Steve asks, already lost in this interaction after one sentence.

She huffs. “Chrissy can have friends,” the unknown girl spits. “And, get this, she can even have guy friends.”

She gasps showily once she’s done speaking, hand over her mouth and everything. Steve almost wants to smile, it reminds him so much of Eddie. But, her eyes are still hard, and her hands are fisted tight like she’d rather hit him than talk to him.

“I know that.” Steve says for lack of anything else to say.

Both of the girl’s eyebrows raise and she laughs condescendingly enough that a couple girls walking down the hallway look over and giggle at his predicament. No one else pays them any mind.

“Do you?” she asks, taking a step forward, forcing him back, a step into the bathroom. “Because you sure like to follow her around as she talks to Munson.”

Steve’s own brows are furrowed now as his confusion mounts. Is she here, what, defending Chrissy’s right to be friends with Eddie? Even if they were dating, Steve wouldn’t stop her from being friends with anyone. Hell, even at the height of their relationship issues, he’d never once tried to stop Nancy from seeing Jonathan.

He’s not following her around as some sort of fucked-up chastity chaperons. It’s about her safety.

“Jason—” he starts, but she cuts him off with such a disgusted scoff that he closes his mouth hard enough that his teeth clack together.

“Oh, so Jason was a dick-bag, so you’ve decided to follow in his footsteps?”

“No, that’s not—”

She laughs, and it sounds mean. “No, no, of course it’s not creepy when you do it,” she says, clapping like he’s the one putting on a little show for any passerby to see. “King Steve is above all that.”

She takes another step forward, and Steve, for some fucked up reason, can feel his hands shaking. As if this girl is really a threat. She feels like one, with her clenched fists and acerbic tongue and all her goddamn assumptions.

“You don’t know anything about me.” He wants it to come out assertive. It doesn’t.

He feels small.

She laughs again. “Everyone knows everything about you,” she replies. “Not much to know, is there?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but it still scratches into all of his hidden little insecurities. Maybe they’re not all that hidden anymore because he can feel his face crumpling in on itself, and can’t do anything to stop it.

“We’re not even dating,” he blurts out, quick and panicked, voice catching embarrassingly with emotion.

Steve takes a few more quick steps back, breath shuddering in his lungs as he lets the door swing closed between them. Just before it slams shut, Steve catches sight of the shocked look on the girl’s face. He can’t bring himself to care.

God, why did he say that? Some unknown girl is a little mean to him and he outs Chrissy’s secret, just like that?

It hadn’t felt just a little mean, though. It’d felt like he was being flambéed; it still does.

Because she’s right. Everyone always is, about him. Big house, no parents. Pretty, but the pool’s shallow. Not the sharpest tool in the shed. Bullshit.

Not much to know, is there?

He’s got an empty house, and an empty spot at his side to prove it. Nancy hadn’t stayed, and the wound's long since healed over, but Eddie’s been carving out a similar one in his own shape for months now. It grows deeper each time he smiles at Chrissy only to sneer at Steve behind her back.

It grows deeper each time he talks to Chrissy with Steve’s own words pouring out of his mouth.

The late bell rings just as Steve stumbles into one of the vacant stalls and slumps onto the dirty floor, too overwrought to care what filth he’s getting on his ass.

He just needs a second.

“Steve?” It’s the same girl’s voice, barely recognizable without anger punctuating it. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer, but his breathing’s still labored with emotions, so it doesn’t take her long to zero in on his location and swing the stall door open.

“That’s disgusting,” she says, but she shuffles into the stall with him and sits on the dirty linoleum across from him, close enough that their knees knock. “If I get salmonella, you’re paying my medical bills.”

When Steve finally looks at her, her nose is wrinkled in disgust, hands fisted around her knees like she’s trying to keep from touching the toilet or the wall.

“I don’t think that’s how salmonella works,” Steve replies quietly.

The girl rolls her eyes, but it doesn’t feel as mean, somehow. She just looks tired, ashamed almost, even as she replies, “like you’d know,” bitchily. Steve glares at her, and she slumps into herself with a muttered, “sorry.”

They stare at each other. He’s close enough that he can see all the freckles on her cheeks, the eyeliner smudged beneath her eyes, the frizz of her unconditioned hair. And suddenly, it’s all too much.

He laughs, loud enough that it echoes strangely off the vacant bathroom walls as the girl stares at him like he’s lost his mind. It’s just—he’s sitting in the bathroom, knee to knee with a girl who’s name he doesn’t know after arguing about a girlfriend he doesn’t even have.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, waving his hand in front of his face like that’ll somehow dry up the tears of hilarity creeping down his cheeks. “It’s just, I don’t even know your name.”

She scoffs again, but the tap of her knee against his takes the sting out of it. “Robin Buckley,” she says, smiling crookedly at him. “We’re supposed to be in Clickity Clack’s class together right now.”

Steve narrows his eyes, staring hard at her as he tries to match her face to the class. He comes up blank.

“I sit behind you,” she says, interrupting his deer-in-headlights moment with an answer instead.

He squints at her, barely comes up with an impression of frizzy hair and dirty shoes. “Sorry,” he says.

“You borrowed a pen, like, last week.”

Steve pouts. She’s just making fun of him now, smiling as his discomfort grows. “Sorry!”

He shoves her knee, and even though it’s gentle, she shrieks as more of her jeans come in contact with the boy’s bathroom floor. As if she has any right to complain; with her taking up so much space, he’s pressed right into the toilet.

As if to retaliate against him, she asks, “so, you’re not dating Chrissy?”

It’s a probing, nosey question, He shouldn’t be surprised. After knowing Robin for a sum total of five minutes, he can tell she’s a picker. She picks at people, and secrets, and skin, only to be surprised when the spot starts bleeding.

It’s all spiraling out of his control, anyway. First Chrissy, then Jeff. Who’s next, his Mom?

So, here, in the dirty boy’s bathroom, he snaps.

“She’s just helping me with Eddie, okay?” he says, words coming out harsher than he means them to.

Robin’s squinting at him again as she asks, “Munson?”

“She has better handwriting.”

It shouldn’t mean anything to her. But her eyes widen a second later as she stares at him like she’s never seen him before, eyes blown wide, mouth gaping open unattractively. He feels like a zoo animal, caged into this stall so she can gawk.

He’s three seconds away from standing up and leaving the bathroom entirely to flee this situation he no longer understands, when she says, “you’re the one who left Munson the note!”

***

The reaction is immediate. Steve slams himself back hard enough that his head thunks hollowly against the stall. She’d make a joke about empty skulls if he didn’t look three seconds away from having a full-blown panic attack. Robin’s not equipped to deal with that, she’s usually the one panicking. So, she reaches out to squeeze his knee hard enough that his rabbiting pupils meet her eyes.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she says, unsure exactly what secret she’s keeping.

There’s a web of information here, and she’s not spinning the narrative together correctly. The facts are this:

1. Chrissy dropped a note into Eddie’s locker when she thought no one was looking.

2. Eddie smiled as he read the note.

3. Soon after, Eddie started spending a lot of time with Chrissy.

4. Steve started following her around like some sort of over-eager attack dog.

But, if Steve had written the note, what does that mean? Chrissy’s always seemed nice, but are they playing some sort of cruel joke on Eddie? Does she need to warn her fellow outcast that he’s about to be Carrie’d?

“Who told you about the notes?” Steve asks, voice dead beneath all the shaking.

She holds her hands up. Afraid, suddenly, that he might hit her. “I saw Chrissy drop one in his locker,” she responds, even as she adds another known fact to her list:

5. There are multiple notes.

Steve shrinks further away from her, withdrawing his feet like she’s the one that’s the threat. Her leg’s cold where his was pressed against her. She’s always been shit at reading people, but this is starting to look like more than a prank found out.

She goes over her list again, adds a few more things on it:

6. Steve needed “help” with Eddie.

7. Steve is afraid of someone finding out about the notes.

He’s curled his arms around his knees and drawn them up to his ribs, containing himself into a much smaller ball than she’d imagined a fully-formed teenage boy could manage.

It’s the familiar posture that drives it home for her; she’s putting her evidence together, and creating a picture she’d never expect.

“I thought you were playing a prank on him!” Robin cries, too loud if Steve’s flinch is anything to go by. She can’t help it— there’s something manic running through her as she stares into Steve’s scared, heartbroken eyes.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he murmurs into his knees, and god help her, she believes him.

“No, you wouldn’t,” she says, hoping her grin doesn’t look as deranged as it feels. “Not with your big gay crush on him.”

She slumps back against the stall, sighing with contentment. She’d always known that there must be other queer people in Hawkins, rule of law, statistics, and all that. But, now she has a name and a face and it’s King Steve of all people! She’s so excited she might just shake right out of her skin.

But, when she opens her eyes, Steve’s gone white as a sheet, a sweat breaking out along his brow like he’s in the middle of a basketball game and not sitting stationary.

Robin can’t tell if he’s even breathing.

She reaches out, trying to pat his knee consolingly. He jerks back, smacking into the wall again in his desperate bid to get away from her.

It’s only then that she realizes what she’d said. Robin slaps her hand over her mouth and curses into it, muffled, shit, shit, shits leaking out around the seal of her fingers. What’s she supposed to do now?

Inversely, the more Robin panics, the more color blooms back into Steve’s cheeks until he’s leaning away from the wall to peer into her face. “Are you okay?” he asks, sounding downright concerned, as if she hadn’t just outed him thirty seconds before.

God, was Steve Harrington actually a nice guy?

Robin flaps her hands around and feels like scum as he leans back away.

“I’m sorry!” she cries, finally reaching out and making contact with his kneecap. The awkward patting doesn’t feel like enough to make up for her careless words.

She’d been so busy seeing herself in him that she’d forgotten he wouldn’t know to look for the same thing reflected back.

“I only noticed because I was always looking at her, but she couldn’t stop looking at you.”

Steve’s brows are furrowed as he asks, “who?”

Robin rolls her eyes even as her heartbeat shudders in her chest, and her own anxiety sweats start moistening her armpits. “Steve, come on.”

He stares at her, and she stares back, trying to beam the information into his head. She doesn’t think she can say it aloud. But, his hands are shaking, a light tremor running through them from fingers to palms. She did that. The least she owes him is a little honestly in turn.

It must work because his eyes damn-near pop out of his skull as he whispers, “Chrissy?” quietly enough that it barely carries to her ears. She nods, her own hands now shaking up a storm until she tucks them into her armpits to settle them down. “I’m not dating Chrissy.”

Robin nods, “I know that now.”

They sit in silence, a couple of mirrors reflecting back at each other with shaky breathing and sweaty bodies. In tandem, they settle, feet tangling in the space between them until Steve’s knee is slotted with her own, foot nudging dangerously close to her ass.

“You like her?” he asks, and he’s smiling now. She almost gets what all the girls see in him.

Robin nods. “Unfortunately.”

“Hey!” Steve says, laughing as he rocks their legs together. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about!”

“Straight best friend,” Robin says, voice droll to cover up all that hurt.

“Maybe,” Steve says, then grimaces. “Probably.”

Robin sighs, slumping into her own stall wall as she whines, wriggling around on the floor despite all the scum on it. Steve laughs at her, squeezing his calves together tightly enough that she’s forced to stop moving. Damn jocks.

“Kind of a cliche though, huh?” he asks, voice teasing. “You’re, what? A drama kid, and you’re crushing on the head cheerleader?”

Robin kicks out at him, narrowly missing what she assumes are his balls. “Band nerd, thank you very much!” she corrects, putting on haughty airs to disguise the blush blooming on her cheeks. By Steve’s smirk, it must not be working. “Besides, what about you? King of the jocks in love with the king of the freaks?”

He kicks her back, and soon, they’re all out scuffling on the boy’s bathroom floor in the middle of class over crushes on people that’ve never looked their way. It ends with her holding his precious hair over the dirty toilet bowl, threatening a swirly until he calls uncle.

“To crushes on straight people?” Steve asks, unfairly un-winded from their impromptu match as he holds out his pinkie finger like they’re little kids again, sharing a secret.

She has her doubts about Munson’s supposed straightness, but she knows an olive branch when she sees one. She’s low on friends, and Steve’s starting to seem like a good one.

Disheveled, out of breath, and feeling lighter than she has in years, Robin links her pinkie with Steve’s, and they shake on it, a silent toast to untenable crushes.

***

“There’s another one.”

Chrissy whips her head back, taking a hasty step away from Jeff at the sound of Steve’s voice. “You’re late,” she says, smoothing down the lapels of her skirt like it wasn’t Jeff’s hands that had ruffled it all up.

Does this count as cheating? The thought enters her brain unbidden, and she has to bite her lip against a laugh that would undoubtedly alert the whole library to their presence. Cheeks aching from the strain, she finally looks up to where Steve’s standing.

All levity drops from her when she sees Steve’s face. It’s too pale for his normal complexion and his eyes are puffy and red like he’d either been crying or making a concerted effort not to. Most telling is his hair, ruffled all to hell atop his head like he’d been running his fingers through it for hours.

“Steve,” she breathes, forgetting all about Jeff and his big, strong hands around her waist as she rushes to her best friend, palms cupping his face. “What happened?”

Steve snorts and asks, “did you not hear me? There’s another one.”

He gestures to his side and only then does Chrissy notice the girl. She’s got mousy brown hair that’s in just as much disarray as Steve’s, and when Chrissy looks her way, she gives a dorky little wave. Chrissy nods back, palms still clutching Steve’s cheeks.

“Another—“ Chrissy starts, looking between the pair, before the meaning of Steve’s cryptic words sink in. “Oh. She knows about—” she starts before trailing off, unwilling to say the rest out loud with a stranger nearby.

“About Eddie, yeah,” Steve says, nodding his head, her arms shaking up and down with the movement.

“I’m Robin, hi!” the girl says, too loudly for the hushed atmosphere of the library.

“Hi?” Chrissy replies, eyeing her distrustfully for a moment before looking back at Steve. “And it went okay?”

Steve nods again, and this time it’s Jeff that laughs, stepping up beside her. Chrissy, suddenly realizing the position she’s in, drops Steve’s face with a blush, hiding her hands behind her back like that would stop anyone from having noticed the awkward hold she’d just had on him.

“Three for three on accidentally getting outed to people who aren’t going to send a lynch mob after you,” Jeff says jokingly, before continuing in a far more serious tone. “You’ve gotta be more careful, man.”

“I know,” Steve groans. “But, hey, I got three great people out of it.”

He smiles at Jeff and Chrissy, and even loops his arm with Robin’s and yanks her closer like he’s going to initiate a group hug, right then and there. Robin puts a stop to that by elbowing Steve in the side until he drops his hold.

There’s a small, wriggling part of Chrissy that seethes with jealousy as she watches them squabble like siblings. But, Jeff’s warm at her side, and she’ll probably go over to Steve’s again this weekend, and Robin seems pretty cool, so she pushes that feeling down and bumps into Jeff right back.

“Did you also tell him this whole thing was stupid?” she asks, looking at Robin.

Robin, who’s got Steve in a headlock, drops her hold suddenly enough that Steve collapses to the carpet. “Uh, I—“ she says, not even acknowledging Steve as he grumbles beneath her. “Me?”

Chrissy snorts. “Yes, you.”

“Oh!” Robin says, flushing at the misunderstanding. “I mean, no. Us lesbi—I mean, wait.” Steve laughs, and Robin kicks him in the side until he flips from his stomach onto his back, finally sitting up and hauling himself off the carpet. “I mean, I don’t think we’re close enough for that yet?”

Chrissy’s got her eyebrows raised, and the longer she looks, the redder Robin gets, clearly embarrassed about her fumbling words. “I don’t know, you guys seem pretty close,” she finally replies, putting Robin out of her misery.

“You’re the only one for me, Chris,” Steve replies, wrapping her in his arms because he’s the absolute worst.

She hums, letting him rock her back and forth right here, in the middle of the library for anyone to see. “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had, you know?” she asks, ignoring the way Jeff coughs to hide a laugh somewhere behind her back.

“I know,” Steve replies, kissing her forehead.

***

Robin’s surprised when she’s invited over to the Harrington house, but she dutifully follows Steve to his car, sliding into the passenger seat. Parked beside them, Jeff is doing the same with Chrissy’s car, and when she squints through the two panes of glass separating them, she’s pretty sure they’re holding hands.

“What’s going on with them?” she asks, tilting her chin in their direction.

“Hmm?” Steve asks before following her line of sight. “Oh, they’re totally dating, but no one’s told me yet.”

“Oh,” Robin says, looking away, unwilling to see the way the couple is smiling at each other.

Not wanting to think about her own hurt feelings anymore, Robin adds that to her list. This time, it’s not a list of clues, but a list of ways that this is the messiest situation she’s ever seen.

Steve has a crush on Eddie Munson and is writing him love notes.

Eddie clearly thinks Chrissy is the one writing the notes, and,

Eddie??? Probably has a crush??? On Chrissy???

Chrissy is dating Jeff, Eddie’s best friend, but hasn’t told anyone.

Steve Harrington is queer.

The last item on the list is less of these people making a mess, and more a dangerous add-on that has her heart ratcheting up at the thought of any more people finding out, even Eddie. Maybe especially Eddie.

“Sorry, Buckley,” Steve says, reaching over to pat her knee consolingly. “Maybe they’ll break up?”

Robin looks back at Chrissy’s car only to see a pink blush painting the other girl’s face. She looks away, groaning as she bends over to bury her face into her raised knees.

“You guys are all the worst,” she mutters into her jeans, rubbing her face against the rough fabric.

Steve laughs but reaches over to smack her in the leg hard enough that she automatically flinches them back down. “No shoes on the upholstery.”

“Yes, Mom,” she mocks, but settles her feet onto the carpet anyway.

It’s not a long drive—the high school is located centrally to Hawkins, so you can reach pretty much anywhere within fifteen minutes. Loch Nora is only about ten, and within those ten minutes, Robin fiddles with the radio dial incessantly enough that Steve reaches over and flings his glove compartment open so she can rifle through his tape deck instead.

It’s a surprisingly varied collection. She’s just settled on a Pat Benatar cassette when he pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine.

His house is big—two stories and wide, too, but aside from the porch light, there are no lights on, nobody home.

Chrissy pulls into the driveway right behind them, jumping out of her car and rushing to the front door before anyone else has even made it out of their cars. She’s already grabbed a rock out of a potted plant, snatched a key from beneath it, and stuffed it into the imposing front door before the rest of them have stepped out of their seats.

“Yeah, Chris, show everyone where the hide-a-key is, why don’t you,” Steve grumbles, walking beside Robin up to the porch, Jeff on their heels.

Chrissy just swings the front door open, turning around to stick her tongue out at him. “You mean show all your wonderful friends where it is?”

Steve scoffs. “You’re all assholes, and you know it,” he replies, but he’s smiling, small and secret as he follows her into his own house.

Robin stops at the threshold, eyes wide. She’s heard all about Harrington’s ragers, even if they’ve dropped off to nothing recently, but this isn’t at all what she’d pictured. The house is big, but it’s emptier than she’d expected. Not much on the walls, nothing on the coffee table, no signs of life at all. Chrissy goes through the entire first floor, turning on every light in the place until it’s lit up like a beacon.

Only once she’s done does Steve seem to relax; he uses the toes of his opposite foot to kick off his shoes before bending down and lining them up by the front door. Robin follows his lead, sitting down on the cold hardwood to untie her own high-tops and put them neatly beside his. Jeff takes his own sneakers off while Chrissy tromps through the place in her clean white sneakers like she owns the place.

“Shoes, Chris,” Steve chides.

Chrissy rolls her eyes, but she dutifully kicks her shoes off in Steve’s direction, laughing as he mutters to himself while he cleans up her mess. They remind her so much of siblings that Robin wonders how anyone was ever fooled that they were dating. It’s like all it takes to convince the masses is a letterman jacket and standing a little closer than conventionally allowed.

Had the pair even ever said they’d been dating?

They sit next to each other on the couch, Jeff taking a nearby chair, and Robin settling for the empty space on Steve’s left, too afraid to take the spot next to Chrissy.

She feels awkward, like an intruder in their little inner circle despite Steve inviting her along. The feeling’s only amplified when Chrissy asks, “you didn’t pick up Eddie’s letter yet, did you?” causing an all-out fight between the pair.

Jeff and Robin make awkward eye contact as their voices grow louder, grimacing in commiseration. She won’t say it, but secretly Robin thinks Chrissy is right—it is a stupid risk to pick up the letter himself. Hell, it’s a stupid risk to do this at all.

“Well, can I see it?” Chrissy asks, holding her hand out like it’s a foregone conclusion that Steve will put it in her palm.

He hesitates, looking over to where he’d left his bag by the front door. “Not—” he starts, cheeks turning a faint pink as he searches for words, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Not yet, okay?”

Chrissy blinks, clearly surprised. Before she can respond, Jeff cuts the tension with a, “that good, huh?” which has Steve’s blush darkening to a bright scarlet and Chrissy throwing her head back and laughing.

Something in Robin warms at the teasing. She’d known that Jeff and Chrissy were accepting, but it’s different to see it in front of her—proof of concept. There’s a knot in her mouth that Robin swallows down, afraid that if she doesn’t, her own confession might burst out of her.

I’m a lesbian.

She’s never said it aloud to anyone but her own face in the mirror. She wants to taste it on her tongue. Maybe someday, with these people, she’ll get to.

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic #honestly what can i say. I missed robin. she's here now

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emotionalsupport-ljh · 2 days ago

Text

Whelmed 🩷

Even Jihoon needs to be taken care of sometimes.

Fluff - woozi x gn!reader

Maybe I'm projecting jussssst a lil bit. Anyway, Happy Birth Month, my precious, precious boy!!

AO3 link

Word Count: 2.5k

CW: crying, meltdown, a lil hurt/comfort, jihoon is stressed and needs maximum comfort

₊˚⊹ 🩷🩷🩷꒰.^₃^꒱☆⋆｡

You walk into the Universe Factory and the first thing you see is Jihoon laying face down on the couch. It’s silent in the room, which is incredibly rare, except for the sounds of heavy breathing and sniffles. You walk slowly toward the couch and plop down on the edge of it. Jihoon makes some room for you without lifting his face. Your hand finds his back to start rubbing it comfortingly.

“Want to talk about it?” you ask, your voice softly above a whisper.

“I got really overwhelmed.” Jihoon’s small voice is muffled by the cushions of the seat. He finally turns around to face you, now laying on his back. His nose and eyes are tinged red, and his face is slightly shining from a few tears left there. He’s been done crying for a while. He looks and feels small, however, and moves your hand to pat his tummy, still craving your touch.

“That’s okay. Want to go to my place to get whelmed?” you offer.

Jihoon lets out a laugh, a smile finally appearing on his face. “Is that even a word?”

“I don’t know, but my offer still stands.” You lift an eyebrow to him and return the smile.

He takes a deep breath and exhales an “Okay.”

You begin to stand up and take a moment to look out of the window. The sun just went down. It’s still early in the night, however, since Jihoon usually ends his work past midnight. Only special circumstances like dinner plans or events get him to call it quits early, and even then, he just ends up back in the studio, producing away. Tonight is an extremely rare circumstance. One in which work stops because it absolutely has to or it will destroy the boy’s mind. It’s only ever happened one other time since you two started dating. You’re ready for it much better this time, knowing all he wants is to be taken care of and to not have to think about anything.

You wait for Jihoon to stand up and follow your lead, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, he puffs out his cheeks and reaches up for you, wanting you to lift him to his feet. He looks insanely adorable, even if there are still the dying embers of a meltdown still glowing on his face. You grab his hands and pull him up to a seated position then finally up to his feet. You are determined to make him feel better tonight, any way you can.

“Carry me,” he pouts.

You giggle at the suggestion, knowing exactly how he feels. “I would if I could.” You continue to keep the mood really light and joking as you leave the building and walk to your apartment building. You carry Jihoon’s bag for him, and he pays for some snacks at a convenience store.

Once you make it into your apartment, you both immediately change into your fluffiest, comfiest clothes. Jihoon sits comfortably on the couch, picking something to watch while you make popcorn and pour your drinks into cute mason jars. You each picked out some candy to share and an ice cream treat to store in the freezer for later, as well. You come to the living room and set down the popcorn bowl and drinks and find Jihoon with his eyebrows furrowed as he scrolls through every streaming platform there is, trying to find something suitable.

“This is impossible,” he huffs.

“What are you looking for?” you plop next to him and throw a piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“I don’t know. Something good.” His response isn’t very elaborate.

“A K-Drama?” you ask.

“No, I want something I don’t have to think too hard about.”

“Then what about a kids’ cartoon? Like Bluey,” you suggest.

“No, no. I’m not in the mood for something for kids.” He sticks out his tongue while he scrolls. His cuteness is going to send you into an overload. Usually, he takes charge of things and lets you be the cute one. When he gets like this, it’s such a special sight for you to take in all the softness he locks away behind his more serious personality.

You are just happy to be next to him, watching him go through each genre until something strikes him. You kind of zone out merrily, until you hear slight groaning next to you. Jihoon’s face is twisted up in frustration. He’s getting overwhelmed again and fusses over the TV remote.

“I can’t choose,” he says, voice choking up a little bit.

You take the initiative to place your hand on his and gently set the remote down on the coffee table. You place your other hand on his cheek and turn him to face you. You smile and kiss his nose while softly assuring, “It’s okay. They give way too many options, right? If you want, I can pick, okay?”

Jihoon’s hand intertwines with yours, grabbing at your fingers and rubbing your palms. He nods and breathes, calming down more and more. You turn your attention to the TV and select a shojo anime you both have seen about a million times and restart it from the first episode. The tension you both were once holding onto in your shoulders finally relaxes as you both sit back and watch the opening credits.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” you say as you jolt up from your seat and walk toward your bedroom. “Be right back.”

Jihoon follows you with eyes wide until you disappear into your room. He’s curious why you’ve run off and how long your errand will take. Not long, apparently, as you reappear within a minute holding velvet soft plushies for you both to cuddle. You return to your seat and settle into the back cushion of the couch placing a cat plushie in Jihoon’s arms. You place a bear plushie on the opposite side of you and let Jihoon settle into your outstretched arm, laying his head on your chest. It’s a position you usually take when you watch TV together, and you are glad he finds your chest as comfortable and secure as you find his.

The popcorn disappears about a quarter of the way into the second episode. You didn’t realize how hungry you were. You sit idly watching the cute female protagonist miss all the cues that the people around her are instantly infatuated with her. You try to focus on the cute little plot, but you are interrupted by a small growling sound.

You look at Jihoon then to his stomach then back to his face. His eyes are wide, and his face is red. You laugh quietly, “Ready for candy?”

“Actually, can we make ramen? I’m hungry for more than snacks.”

“Of course, coming right up!” you say as you get up to move to the kitchen. It’s a little surprising when footsteps follow. “You want to help?” you question your sudden shadow.

Jihoon nods his head silently. For what it’s worth, he does fill a pot with water while you find a few packs of ramen. While the water boils, however, his version of helping beyond that is just to stand behind you with his arms around your waist, laying his head on your back. This kind of white noise is your favorite. Nothing but low TV chatter from the characters in a sweet shojo, the sound of water boiling, and soft breathing. You’re relaxed and hope that Jihoon feels the same way. You want him to decompress and let go of all the stress of the day. You know that eventually, he will have to talk about it to process it though. For now, you stir the pot with long chopsticks making sure the noodles are not too hard and not too soft.

You bring the pot and two pairs of chopsticks to the coffee table, making sure to put it on a heat resistant mat. Jihoon’s arms remain around you as he shuffles along with you every step of the way. With a huff, he finally lets you go as he sits back on the couch, but he does wait for you with open arms.

“Do you want me to feed you, too?” you laugh as you settle in next to him. He’s a little clingy, but it’s rare to see him so dependent on anyone else. In these small moments, you indulge him and genuinely do wish you could do everything for him so that he doesn’t have to think, or overthink, about it.

“No! I can eat by myself,” he responds, flustered. He grabs the chopsticks and takes mouthfuls of ramen. You let him fill up a bit first and swoop in for your share when he’s had his fill. The ramen disappears, and so do all of the treats while the anime plays comfortingly in the background. Jihoon is snuggled up with his head leaning against you, and you notice his eyes drooping heavier and heavier.

Before he completely knocks out, you get his attention, “Hey,” you start softly, “want to start getting ready for bed?”

Jihoon slowly lifts his head and nods while rubbing his eyes. Sometimes he reminds you of a sweet little kitten with the way he pouts with his pink lips. You kiss him before standing up and bringing him to stand with you. He grabs both of the fluffy companions from the couch, then he follows you like a little duck to the bedroom. You both breeze through your nightly routine. Jihoon is in bed with his arms out, again, waiting for you to join him.

“Wait here, I’m going to clean up the living room a little bit,” you say and turn for the door.

He pouts, “But I want you here.”

“I know, and I will be. Just let me take care of the dishes really fast.”

“I’ll help.” He begins to move the blanket covering him, disrupting the position of his new friend, the cat plushie.

“No, stay there. I got it. Just wait a bit, okay?” You smile at him reassuringly. He huffs and finally relents. You take care of the small mess left behind and muse on the way Jihoon has been acting. His clinginess getting the best of him was a sign. He was much more bothered than you originally thought. It is very cute and refreshing to see him get all needy. It reminds you that he needs you just like how you need him. He doesn’t say it all that often, but when you can feel it, feel that he needs you, it just solidifies your feelings for him even more.

But there is still something else. Something he’s not asking for, distracting himself with hugs and kisses so he’ll feel better without confronting what’s really going on. You hope it isn’t something he’s had to endure for a long time. He’s prone to do that, to endure alone and not let anyone help him. He thinks he can handle it himself without bothering anyone. He doesn’t understand that it’s not a bother. You resolve to talk about it with him no matter what. No matter how cute and sweet he’ll act when you get back to him.

With everything cleaned and your mind made up, you enter the bedroom again and are met with those same open arms. You settle into your spot, getting all comfortable. You turn in on Jihoon, and he rotates without hesitation until his back is against your chest. You enjoy the smell of his shampoo and lay a soft kiss to the back of his head. You wrap your arms around him tight and he holds on to them for dear life. It almost makes you feel bad that you have to make him a little uncomfortable, but it will help him sleep at night. You just lay there, breathing in sync, then you take a deep breath which disrupts the rhythm you have going with Jihoon.

“Hey,” you ease into the difficult conversation, “I know today was hard for you. I was just wondering… what happened?”

Jihoon buries his face in his pillow, “I don’t want to think about it.”

“I know, I know.” You stroke his hand, hoping to bring some comfort to his stressed out mind. “Talking about it will help you get through it, though. Can’t avoid it forever. It’ll come back to bite you.” You emphasize your words by pinching his arm in a playful attack. It lightens the mood a little and provokes a giggle to rise out of Jihoon.

“It’s just…” Jihoon begins cautiously, “my job can be stressful. It’s already hard enough to meet everyone else’s standards. When I can’t even meet my own, I feel… useless.”

You rub gentle circles on Jihoon’s arms and hands as he talks. You listen and understand how he’s feeling. He’s always been a type-A perfectionist since you’ve known him. It’s kind of stupid, but sometimes you let yourself think that his talent means that nothing is hard for him; he just does so well all the time and then acts as if it’s not a big deal. Of course, it sometimes is a big deal. He always burns so hot and bright for a long time, but even stars burn out eventually. This is the burnout; an increasingly frustrating time that leads to being so overwhelmed he cries alone in the Universe Factory. It’s a good thing that he’s not alone right now, though.

“You’re not useless; you just need some help. I know you’ll figure it out because you are a musical genius,” you respond. Your breath tickles his ear as you speak.

“You know I hate that word. ‘Genius’. A genius should be able to do it without help.” His voice starts cracking, and your heart breaks a little hearing it.

“No, no. It’s not easy being so smart. You’re the one that has to make the smart decisions. Being stupid is easy because the easy decision is to give up. It’s hard to keep going. Once you figure it out, that is what makes you a genius. I know you are smart enough to keep going and to figure it out. You can start by making the smart decision to reach out for some help on this.” You feel Jihoon relax in your arms, tension melting away from his shoulders. Your words reached him.

“I’ve never thought of it like that.” His voice is even again. You can’t see the look on his face, but you can tell he’s having a revelation. “I think I’m whelmed, now. Thank you,” he says simply. He moves to reveal his face. The tears that were once welling in his heart have disappeared. They don’t get to fall tonight.

“I’m glad,” you tilt his face toward you and capture his lips in a kiss. You settle once again into the spoon, somehow more comfortable than before. Jihoon falls asleep with a blissful slight smile on his face.

#and thats 3/4 #trying to stay productive #that sweet boy deserves nothing but the best snuggles for his bday #seventeen #svt #woozi #lee jihoon #lee jihoon fanfic #lee jihoon fanfiction #woozi fanfiction #woozi fic #lee jihoon x reader #woozi fluff #lee jihoon fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #woozi x reader

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toolonely1 · 19 hours ago

Text

Goodbye

Professor! Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Angst, one mention of the reader as a girl, teacher/student relationship, if there's anything else, let me know

Word count: 1.4k

(please be nice I never write)

The beginning of the semester is usually stressful; the combination of finding your classes, meeting professors, and getting used to the workload can be a lot. But nothing could have prepared you to see your boyfriend of three months at the front of the class, greeting students as they walked in.

When your eyes meet, you freeze, realizing Professor Reid and Spencer Reid are, in fact, the same person. He starts walking towards you in an awkward manner, the same shyness he had when you first met. But before he can reach you, you dart towards a seat in the back of the class, unable to handle that conversation just yet. His eyes follow you, and you can only hope he understands why you can’t speak to him. It isn’t every day you find out you’ve unknowingly been sleeping with your professor.

See, you met months ago, right at the beginning of the summer. You had been reading at a table in your favorite library; it had a cafe in it, and the employees were always great. The rest of the tables were full, and you happened to look up as he was looking around for an empty seat, with a coffee in one hand and a book in the other. It was almost out of the movies, the way your heart stopped as your eyes met. He had to have been the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, then he gave you this shy smile, and immediately you were done for. You offered him the empty chair at your table, and by some miracle, he accepted the invite.

As he was sitting down, you took the opportunity to introduce yourself, to which he smiled and replied with his own name.

“Well, Spencer Reid, I don’t know why it’s so busy today. Usually, the place is pretty empty.” He didn’t seem like the type to enjoy crowds.

Proving my guess, he replied, “The last time I came in, most of the tables were empty. I figured it would be the same now." His eyes flickered from your eyes to the rest of you. “Though I’m starting to think it may not be such a bad thing.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “And why’s that?”

Almost like a switch was flipped, his demeanor changed. No longer was he shy and awkward, now he was exuding confidence. “I have an excuse to talk to a pretty girl.”

You didn’t do any reading after that. Instead, you and Spencer spent the rest of the day chatting (flirting) about your favorite books, hobbies, and everything in between.

In the next couple of weeks, you kept meeting at the library, both acting as if it were an accident. Eventually, though, you started meeting outside of the library, starting with walks around a local park, where he told you about his job as a profiler in the Behavioral Analysis Unit, explaining he would be gone for days to find the “unsub,” as he called it. Walks turned to trips to the movies; he had a thing for films in foreign languages, and you didn’t mind him translating everything in your ear (though you were not paying much attention to anything other than the feel of his breath on your neck).

One night, after dinner, you asked him to kiss you, wanting to be more than the sort of not stranger we became. He took the hint, and for the rest of the summer, as long as he was in the city, you were inseparable.

Until now.

The lecture went fast, as the first day usually does. Professor Reid only went over the syllabus, not that you were paying attention to a thing he said; you were too busy thinking about the impossible situation you had ended up in. When he finished going over the syllabus, he dismissed everyone early. You wanted to leave the class quickly, but as if he knew what you were going to do, he met you at your seat. You didn’t stand a chance.

“We should talk.” Though he was not physically holding you, you could not move. You knew you would either talk about it now or would never talk again.

The class finally cleared, and you were alone. This is something you would usually relish, but this time, being alone with him feels dirty, like you’re doing something wrong.

Avoiding eye contact, you fidget with the strap of your bag. “So when you said you worked as a profiler, were you lying?” It's certainly not the most pressing issue, but you had to find something to say.

The sound of his chuckle was both music to your ears and nails on a chalkboard. “No, I teach as a side job when I'm not on a case. I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to mention that.” It’s confusing how he can find humor in a situation like this.

“Yeah, it would have been nice to know. especially when you heard me complain about my college classes.” You don’t blame him, never could, but you have to be upset about something. When you finally get the courage to look at him, the look he gives you tells you he knows this.

Having spent the last thirty minutes thinking, you already know what you have to do. Tears began filling your eyes as you really, truly took him in.

“We have to break up.”

“What?” He looks devastated.

“It's the most logical option, you have to agree.” you can’t look at him anymore, too scared to see his reaction. You start pacing. “I mean, this is putting your job in danger, and there’s no way I’m letting this jeopardize my education. Not to mention how cliche it is for a student and her teacher to be together." You take a glance at him while you take a breath and continue, "Do you know what people would say about me if they found out?" you then wait for a response, but instead, his mouth is ajar as he takes in everything you just said.

Unable to handle the silence, you continue, trying to convince both of you that this is the right choice. “So we break up. It doesn’t matter how either of us feels, it’s what has to be done. No matter how much fun I had. No matter how much I care about you. It doesn’t matter.” The tears are starting to flow now, but the word vomit will not stop. “Nothing matters because I can’t be the girl who sleeps with her professor for a good grade. Even if it will kill me to see you three times a week and not be able to hug you, kiss you,... or even talk to you.” That’s what breaks you, the reality of the situation finally getting to you.

Your sob is what finally breaks him out of his trance; he rushes to you as if his only job is to calm you down. His hands cup your face faster than you can process. “You’re right... we should break up. For my career and your education.” His eyes are tracing your face like he’s trying to memorize every detail of it, as if his eidetic memory could ever fail him. “But this summer has been the best thing to happen to me, and I will always remember it as that. You taught me how to live again, not just survive.”

Your breathing starts to calm again; he seems to always know how to do that. Just another thing you will miss about him.

As you take in one another, you realize how much you don’t want to lose him. Not if you don’t have to.

“I can drop the class, and we’ll avoid each other on campus. We can do that, right?” But he’s got that look in his eyes, the one that says he’s made up his mind. It may have started as your idea, but it’s ending as his final decision.

“You need the class to graduate, and I’m the only professor who teaches it.” His sad smile mocks you. “And we both know I can’t stay away from you when you’re mine.”

The tears start up again as he reminds you that you won’t be his anymore. That he won’t be yours.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“Goodbye,” the final whisper of your name before he walks away feels like a knife to the heart.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #professor reid #professor reid angst #spencer reid x reader #professor reid x reader #x reader #reid angst #spencer reid angst #professor spencer reid #rah #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine

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lost-in-fandoms · 2 days ago

Note

For kitten knight AU, might be hitting to close to home, sorry :(

What about a time when Daniel gets too injured/gets overlooked to join a mission and is miserable and needing his kitten Max's comfort upon his return?

I am so so sorry this has taken me so long and there is actually zero kitten time in this, but I hope you'll forgive me. There's another ask in my inbox that might get the kitten time related to this (when I'll get to it. again, i'm sorry, it's been a lot lately)

The knife had come out from nowhere.

One moment Daniel was walking the rounds in the lower city with Alex, chatting about nothing, probably paying not enough attention to his surroundings, and the next three thugs had jumped out of the shadows brandishing clubs.

It should have been an easy fight, clubs against swords, but they were in a narrow street, which made maneuvering around each other harder, and both Daniel and Alex had been surprised, reacting just a little too late. Daniel had stopped the first swing of a club with the hilt of his sword, not an ideal move, before being able to go on the attack. He had heard Alex swear behind him, but he'd been unable to check.

And then, just as he had kicked the club out of the hand of his thug and forced him to the ground with the threat of his blade, he had felt a sharp pain on his side, a burst of white hot flames lapping at his nerves, and he had fallen to his knees with a cry.

He isn't sure what had happened after that, his brain confused by adrenaline and pain, but he remembers someone running away, Alex swearing more, the sharp whistle of a call for help, the blurry travel back to the castle.

He had been lucky, the doctor who had stitched him up had said. Lucky, that the guy hadn't taken the blade out after stabbing him, keeping the blood loss to a minimum. Lucky, that it hadn't really hit anything important. Lucky, that the wound hadn't got infected.

And yet, Daniel doesn't feel very lucky, laying in bed, side throbbing, watching Max walk out the door. He feels stupid, for letting himself get stabbed, and already lonely.

The thing is, he was supposed to be heading away with Max too. He had been picked for the mission some time ago, for his ability to keep Max calm and to charm people, but now he has to look while George goes with Max and the rest of the group.

Daniel doesn't have anything again George, he likes George, really, but right now he sort of wishes that George was laying in a bed with a stab wound instead.

He doesn't particularly care about the mission. A noble somewhere near the southern border is rumored to be planning a coup, and Max is heading there to talk and, more importantly, to scare the man to death.

Daniel doesn't give a shit about the mission. He understands the importance of it, a coup would be bad for the kingdom in general and for him in particular, would mean battles and death, but he can admit to himself and the mission could be going to count all the cows in the kingdom and he'd care exactly the same amount.

But he wanted to go. With Max.

He's been thinking about it lately, and he knows he won't be able to be a King's guard forever. There are people in the guard who are happy to grow old like this, who consider the barracks their home, the guards their family, the protection of the King their life purpose. But not Daniel.

He's tired.

He has grown disillusioned in the King's justice, knows that while he's not a bad King, he's not a good one either, and he has grown tired of the night shifts, of the stiff beds, of the endless rounds.

He keeps dreaming about a different life. A small house with a garden, maybe a goat. A soft bed. Waking up with the sunrise, going to bed with the sunset, only seeing midnight if he wants to see it. Maybe living off of something he can do that isn't just swinging a blade.

The problem is. The problem is that none of that, not the house, the bed, the goat, would matter without Max. He wants his life with Max.

And he's not sure that, if presented with the choice between Daniel and the guards, Max would choose him.

So this mission would have been maybe one of his last chances to do something with Max. To be out in the world with him, to spend time together, to maybe find the courage to ask him what he would do if Daniel was to quit, if he would stay, if he would follow.

But he got himself stabbed, and now he's laying in a bed, alone and miserable, missing Max more than the situation would probably call for.

The days are slow.

For the first few he's not allowed to get up, and even if his friends come to see him, and the doctor visits him, he spends long hours staring at the wall, ignoring the books someone had brought him, the letters he could be writing, and thinking about Max and his dream goat instead.

His chest aches with how much he misses him, how much he wants.

Max doesn't write.

Daniel wasn't expecting him to, even if he's sure he sent pigeons for the King, wasn't expecting him to ask about Daniel in the official documents, but he's disappointed anyway, heart aching just a little bit more.

As soon as he's allowed to get up, he goes outside.

He knows he's not technically allowed to exert himself, but he needs to move, he needs to breathe, he needs to empty his brain of all these thoughts and just exist for a while. He climbs to the top of the inner walls, regrets it about five times on the way up and seven on the way down. He goes for a walk out towards the hill, having to sit down an embarrassing amount of times on the way there. He goes to the armory, annoys GP into giving him something to do, then to the stables, until even the horses are unsettled by his nervous energy.

Sleeping at night is hard. He misses Max's solid weight on his side, misses his soft warmth on top of his chest even more. He lays awake for hours, unable to turn around as he'd like because his side still fucking hurts, straining his ears to listen for a purr that doesn't exist.

He waits and waits and waits.

The day Max is supposed to come back, he doesn't.

He sends a pigeon ahead, telling the King they are safe, but a flood had forced them to not use the ford the were planning to and directing them to a bridge further away, delaying their travel of a day. GP is the one who tells Daniel, coming back to the armory where Daniel had been cleaning already shining blades, and Daniel gets out and up to the east tower, cursing every single step all the way up.

He sits there until the sun sets and he grows too cold, gritting his teeth as he climbs the stairs back down and avoiding the mess hall, not feeling like talking to anyone.

That night he curls up tight around a small warm body that isn't there, ignoring the pull of the stitches.

The day after he wakes up to the feeling of the blankets being moved.

He snaps his eyes open, cursing himself for letting someone get this close without noticing, already fumbling for the knife he keeps tied to one of the bed legs, when a hand closes around his and he finally registers the voice speaking to him.

"Daniel, Daniel, it's me, it's fine, it's me."

And then finally, finally, he realises it's Max.

For a moment, he feels like his brain freezes.

Max is there, he can see he's there, but it makes no sense. Max is supposed to still be half a day away, and even if he has arrived already, he's supposed to be debriefing with the King. He's not supposed to be here, wearing barely any clothes, slipping into Daniel's bed.

"Max? What?" is all he manages to say, his voice rough.

Max pushes him slightly, still trying to get into bed, but Daniel doesn't move, too surprised and confused to comply.

"I decided to travel all night. The guys weren't happy, but we got here early" Max explains, fidgeting with the corner of the blanket.

"The King?" Daniel asks, still hesitating

"I wrote the report while traveling and left it for him. I'll talk to him later." Max shrugs, then looks up at Daniel, his cheeks red. "I missed you."

And then finally Daniel's brain catches up with the fact that Max is really here, and he realises there are so many better things he could be doing instead of asking Max questions.

Max lets out a surprised squeak when Daniel lunges at him, wrapping his arms around and squeezing him into a hug, burying his face into the familiar slope of his shoulder and breathing him in.

"I missed you too. I missed you so much, Maxy, I missed you," Daniel babbles, feeling Max's arm wrap around his back much more carefully, his hands moving up and down in a soothing motion.

"It was only ten days," Max says, even as he holds Daniel just as tightly.

It feels much more than ten days when they finally kiss. It feels like a month, like way too long. It feels like filling the hole in Daniel's chest, like fixing his lungs, like slowing his brain. It feels like he was the one who was gone too, and is just now coming home.

"I missed you," he says again when they separate, following Max back down on the pillow, letting him rearrange the blankets around them both.

"I missed you too," Max murmurs back, rubbing his nose against Daniel's cheek. "I almost killed George. More than once."

It startles a laugh out of Daniel, which makes Max laughs too, the sounds merging in the little space left between them.

Daniel isn't planning on saying it, but as soon as he stops laughing, he opens his mouth and blurts:

"I missed my kitten too."

He feels Max go rigid, looking at him with wide eyes, his ears red.

And then he softens, a small smile, much shyer than usual, making its way onto his lips.

"Yeah?" he asks, uncertain, as if Daniel would ever lie about it.

Daniel shuffles even closer, tucking Max under his chin, dropping a kiss onto his hair.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "I kept imagining you were here, that I could hear you purr."

Max's hands flex on his back, muscles tensing briefly like they always do when Daniel mentions out loud one of his cat behaviors, before letting go.

"We don't have time now, I don't know when they'll call for me, but..." Max hesitates for a second, fingers twisting into Daniel's sleep shirt, "I missed that too. I..if you would like, later?"

Daniel smiles, kissing Max's hair again.

"I would love to."

They don't fall asleep, but they hold each other close, listening to the quiet for a while. Daniel will ask about Max's journey later, about George and about the mission, and even later he'll get to cuddle with a soft little kitten, but for now he just wants to feel Max's body in his arms.

He thinks about the house, the bed, the goat, and a kitten. Thinks that maybe, when he'll ask, Max will choose him.

#kitten knight max au #maxiel #my writing #i have NOT reread this so if it sucks or it's full of typos or whatever...my bad #i have ignored quite a bit of stuff to write this but i needed to #so like whatever #be nice i know this is clunky but it's been a while #again i am sorry for taking this long and not even giving you real kitten time

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osmanthus-wine-addiction · 1 day ago

Note

so this is my first ever request, uhm, if your requests are closed, js ignore this! so id like to request a fanfic of zhongli (well obvi) with a pregnant fem reader whos about to give birth!!

Domestic Zhongli is always such a treat to write. Hopefully you enjoy this little fic!

Zhongli x Pregnant Reader

Ever since you first started seeing Zhongli, you were already aware that he was an attentive and devoted lover. The way he listens to you ramble about your day to day activities, an ever-present glimmer of adoration in his eyes, makes you feel like everything you say, feel, and think holds so much weight in his heart. He loves you so much, his beautiful, wonderful, and precious wife. And you, what did you ever do to deserve the sweetest man on Teyvat?

"Thank you, honey." You sigh as you take the cup of water from his outstretched hand. His other hand continued to rub your back as you rinsed your mouth over the toilet bowl.

Zhongli got down on his knee as you sat down on the couch, lifting your dress to reveal your round belly, swollen with his future daughter. He pressed a kiss to the bump, stroking it as he would your cheeks.

"She's almost here. I can hardly believe it." He says fondly, smiling up at you.

You nod, an excited smile on your lips despite the morning sickness the little brat just put you through. Some days, you truly felt like a pile of turd, but for the past eight months, your sweet husband had been your biggest blessing. He couldn't shield you from or help you shoulder the burdens of pregnancy like he could other things, but his constant presence gave you immense comfort.

Zhongli had never been a father before, despite his long life. He had never been a husband either, but you could not ask for anyone more dedicated. His vast knowledge on various subjects from medicine to cooking all seemed to come in handy as well.

One day, you found him in the kitchen making you a pot of, you could hardly believe it, fish head soup. Your husband loathed seafood For as long as you had known him, he couldn't stand the stench or the slimy texture of it at all.

"Fish head soup is high in nutrients that both you and our little one needs. My discomfort is a small price to pay." He chuckles, but the constant furrow in his brow told you how unbearable the preparation had been for him.

You could only run up to him and smother his face in kisses.

"Now now... Tears are a bit much for a pot of soup, don't you think?" He cooed, palms cupping your face and wiping away the unexpected leakage.

"I can't help it. Everything makes me cry right now." You defended your emotional outburst. Fish soup never smelled so good before.

Aside from fish head soup and ginger pig feet stew, Liyue held many traditions and customs also when it comes to pregnancy. For one, he could no longer go into the funeral parlor for work since being around coffins was strictly forbidden. Hutao gave him permission to stay at home and take care of you. At first, you were ecstatic. That was, until you realized your husband saw it as his personal mission to prevent you from doing anything strenuous at all. He would not let you touch the stove, the dishes, or the broom.

"You're too strict." You pouted after Zhongli snatched the rag from your hand. He had caught you cleaning the toilet after you puked in it again.

"Dear, please go get some rest." He ignored your complaints. "You agreed to let me take care of you. We can go on a stroll later if you need some exercise."

"Fine!" You begrudgingly exited the bathroom.

Your husband did not take things lightly, especially not when it comes to things you agreed to.

The stroll was short since you couldn't handle walking for too long. The whole way, you could feel his steady hand at your back. Eventually, the two of you rested on a bench, watching the sun set.

"She's kicking me again!" You told Zhongli with a pout.

He leaned over your bump, slipping a hand underneath your dress to feel the warmth of your skin and the subtle movement underneath it. A faint smile spread over his lips. "Sweetheart, try not to torment your mother too much. She has had a long day."

"I can't wait for her to come out. She really has too much energy." You laughed. "She's going to be a handful. I just know it."

"She takes after you, my dear." Zhongli hums, his deep voice vibrating against your stomach.

You gawked at his accusation. "And you've never had an unruly phase?"

"Your mother is perfect the way she is, as are you. Unruliness and all." He chuckled.

As if in response to his words, the baby pushed against his hand. You met his eyes, excitement and surprise brimming in them. Zhongli's voice had a distinct magnetism to it. Imagine being confined in a dark and wet place and then hearing a deep, soothing voice like his. You'd try to get closer too.

"She likes you so much already." You said, covering Zhongli's hands with your own. "I have a feeling she's going to recognize you as soon as she comes out."

When you got home, your legs were cramping up again. Zhongli offered to give you a massage, which you happily accepted.

"Our daughter will surely be as beautiful as her mother." He muses, hands gently kneading their way down your thighs. Your tense muscles relax under his ministrations.

"I hope she has your eyes. They're the most striking thing about you." You add.

He chuckles. "Is that so?"

"Well, maybe something else of yours left a deeper impression..." You giggled as Zhongli drapes himself carefully over your body, planting a soft kiss against your forehead.

Zhongli's hands feather over your skin, dipping into your valleys and gliding over your hills. His fingers untie the straps that hold your nightgown togther. Your bump had gotten a lot larger over the months and each time he unclothes you, he can't help but stare in awe.

Inside of you was his daughter, steadily growing every single day. Zhongli's soft gaze swept up your swollen body, as vulnerable and alluring as the first time he made love to you, so incredibly beautiful and perfect in his eyes. He saw not just the present you lying underneath him, but all of you.

Every memory of you from the moment he met you blended together in his unwavering gaze. He imagined you in an apron, shouting across the kitchen at your daughter. After dinner, the three of you would take evening strolls together, hand in hand. He would read the both of you to sleep every night.

An amused smile spread over your lips as you pulled your dazed husband in for a kiss.

"Am I that captivating?"

"More than you will ever know, my dearest." He replied, nuzzling against your neck. "You ought to be used to this by now."

"Never. You can always love me more." You dared him.

Zhongli chuckled. "Indeed I can."

#zhongli x reader #zhongli fanfic #zhongli x you

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starlightshadowsworld · 2 days ago

Text

Tw child abuse

Concept: Atsushi doesn’t leave the Orphanage unscathed (combined with my headcanon that Atsushi’s weakness is fire.)

The Headmasters ire was never not aimed at Atsushi. But on that final day it felt demonic. He ran but two other staff members held him in place.

Through every punch.

Every kick to his frail broken body.

Atsushi thinks he passed out when the hot poker seared his flesh. But all he can recall from that were the sound of his own own screams.

Just as Atsushi thought he was going to die he was tossed out into the freezing night.

He was no stranger to the cold. To the pain that had become his only companion in life. But this was unbearable. Yet he gritted his teeth and crawled away from the closed gates.

His clothes were shredded from age and being torn apart into makeshift bandages. Atsushi didn’t really know how to tend to wounds, especially burns as severe as these.

It’s not like he’d ever been worth wasting medical supplies over.

Hunger was another old friend that joined him on the way. It probably sounded weird that Atsushi was grateful for it. It kept his mind off the scars that scattered across his body.

How they burned no matter how cold he was.

The tiger popped around days later and Atsushi wondered if being eaten would hurt any less.

Atsushi wasn’t really paying attention to the bandaged man’s…Dazai’s words. The cold water felt like both a blessing a curse. He contemplated jumping back in. But the evenings chill would get him if he tried.

Dazai frowned, noticing something amiss but figured it was simply Atsushi’s hunger. And yet that unease didn’t fade once Atsushi had eaten more then a few bowls of chazuke.

The relief at being full was quickly overtaken by the pain. Because now it was front and centre in Atsushi’s mind. He wasn’t listening to Dazai and Kunikida, not really.

He got up to leave and cried out when Kunikida lifted him up. For the action caused his charred shirt to rise up and rub against the burns on his stomach.

Kunikida let him go, concern flashing in his eyes as he wordlessly turned to his partner. Checking that Dazai had seen it too, which he had now.

The little bit of damage they’d manage to see was horrific. The fact Atsushi wasn’t on the ground crying in agony told them, along with the holes in his story that he was gifted.

Because no average person could survive such wounds.

Dazai jumped as the tiger leaped at him. Nullifying the ability but not before making a mental note of the patches of damaged fur.

He caught Atsushi and gently laid him on the ground. Just as Kunikida walked in closely followed by Yosano. Atsushi awoke soon enough, taking the new information about as well as one could.

And then… “Atsushi, are you hurt?” Atsushi not so subtly shrank back at the question. “It’s fine” came the immediate response.

Yosano gave Dazai and Kunikida a look and without a word both got up and left. Standing out by the door just incase.

“You’re not in any trouble.” The disbelief on his face made her both mad and sad. She’d seen to many with such an expression and it never got easier.

From the brief talk with Kunikida she could tell was Atsushi a person that assumed everything was his fault. It was probably why he got hurt to begin with. As some sort of twisted punishment.

She couldn’t wait to show those people something truly twisted.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just want to make sure that you’re okay.” The honesty might’ve been why Atsushi hesitantly rolled up his shirt. Yosano didn’t let her anger show and instead focused on inspect the wounds after gaining Atsushi’s consent.

Her touch was feather light and he slowly began to explain how he got such injuries to begin with. “You didn’t deserve any of that” she hoped one day he’d believe her. For now Yosano was just relieved he’d let her treat his wounds.

Without her gift that is which she wasn’t surprised by but accepted. Atsushi had suffered enough anyway.

Yosano did what she could. Kunikida used his ability to conjure up any equipment she didn’t have on hand. While Dazai sat by Atsushi’s side and regaled him in the most ridiculous tales as he laid in their infirmary.

Atsushi should’ve been admitted to the hospital but with the bounty there was no chance of that happening. He was afraid but he seemed to have done trust in them. Which after all he’d been through was a miracle in enough itself.

His burns were severe and he’d developed a fever but Atsushi would heal. It would take a lot of work, regular check ups and salves but slowly but surely he would heal. Hopefully it wouldn’t just be his injuries.

“So he’s joining us right?” Asked Yosano, stepping out to the main office. It was only the three of them here at this hour. “Yup” said Dazai and though Kunikida looked sceptical he nodded.

“Alright, but we’ll have to post pone the entrance exam and we’ll need to ensure his health is a priority during his time with us” and on Kunikuda rambled because he’d already grown fond over Atsushi.

The other two teased Kunikida as they made a scheduleso that someone would be with Atsushi throughout the night. Checking up on him and making very elaborate revenge plots against his orphanage.

Atsushi was one of theres they just needed to make it official.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd atsushi #atsushi nakajima #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bsd kunikida #kunikida doppo #bsd yosano #yosano akiko #injuries #child abuse

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sturniolowhore · 9 hours ago

Text

Not Now

Pairing: dom!chris x fem!reader

Summary: You and Chris are together, but it doesn't really feel like it. Sure you two spend time together, and yeah you guys do sexual things with each other, but every time you do, it feels off. Like you guys aren't connecting as well as you could be.

Warnings: cursing, and angst

a/n: Based on this ask. I don't want anyone to copy my work or use it as "inspiration." Dividers by @issysh3ll.

As you start getting ready to see Chris, your boyfriend that you've been seeing for a few months now, your phone starts to ring. You pick up your phone to see Chris calling. You pick up the phone, even though you hate calling people. You preferred to text, and he did too. You both knew that about each other.

"Hey Chris whats up?" You say, putting the call on speaker and applying blush to your face.

"Hey baby, you coming over?" He says, and you hear shuffling on the other side. You get chills at the nickname. It always felt off when he called you baby.

"Yeah, I'm getting ready now." You say, putting down the blush and picking up your tube of mascara.

"Okay, can't wait to see you. Love you." He says. You grimace as he talks.

"Love you too." You say, sounding genuine. You didn't mean to sound like that, so sweet, just to trick him.

"Bye baby." He says, hanging up. You continue to get ready, changing your clothes and putting your shoes on. You grab your keys, purse, and a light coat since it was a bit cold outside, and you leave the house. You get into your car and start to drive to his place.

When you get there, you open the door with the key Chris gave you and you go to his room. You find him layed out on the bed scrolling on his phone. You hated when he would just lay there, not even paying you any attention.

"Chris?" You call his name, but no response. You go over to him and snatch his phone out of his hand.

"Hey!" He says, throwing his hands in the air, "What was that for?" He gets up off the bed, now towering over you. You stare up at him. He knew you hated when he was on his phone like that. You hate it when he's lazy. But something about him now was just not like him at all.

He was mad. For something so silly. But he didn't care. It was a way for him to get all of his feelings off his chest. He knew you were acting different. He felt it. He didn't feel good enough for you, but he was still with you because he loves you. His feelings were genuine, and he didn't want to get his heart broken.

You stare into his eyes, looking for that sweet look that you always saw in them, but it was gone. It was replaced by hurt and anger. That sweet look always gave you comfort, but now that it was gone, you felt alone with someone you didn't even know.

"Chris, we really need to talk." You tell him.

"Yeah, seems like we really do, considering you just snatched my phone from me. You never do that, even if you hate the way I was just scrolling. Are you mad at me?" He said.

"You know what? Yeah I am mad at you. You just piss me the fuck off and just stop with the pet names, okay?"

"Okay, what has been going on with you? You love the pet names." He says, looking confused.

"Yeah I used to, but not anymore." You tell him.

"What the fuck does that mean?" He yells. He had never raised his voice at you, or anyone really. You look at him with a shocked expression.

"Fuck you." You says and you walk away, slamming his door. He wonders why you looked so hurt, when it hits him. Your ex was really mean and loud. He would always boss you around and control you. You was never aloud to go see your friends or even family, and when you did, his toxic ex would scream at you for it. One day, you decided to end things with him, but he wouldn't let you leave. He would always stalk you, and try and talk to you, until Chris saved you. Chris promised you that he would never yell at you the way he did.

At this realization, he goes to find you sitting down in the living room. There are tears in your eyes, threatening to spill. As you see him enter the room, the tears fall from your eyes, dripping down your face.

"Hey.. I'm so sorry I didn't mean to raise my voice at you." He starts, "It's just that I don't know why you want me to stop with the pet names. Do you find them corny or something?" He asks you.

"Chris, it's not about the pet names. I feel like we have been acting more as friends then as a couple. We could be doing so much better in our relationship, but we aren't." You explain, the tears still rolling down your face.

"So, is this it? Are you breaking up with me? You don't get to blame this all on me. You've been acting like a real bitch lately." He asks, his voice quavering.

"I mean.. yeah I guess it is. You promised that you wouldn't be like him, Chris. You promised. How could you not keep it? How could you say that?" You say, sobbing in between words. You get up off the couch, and run out the door. You hear Chris call your name, but you don't care. You get inside your car and start driving home.

🏷️: @brookheartsmatt @slutf4rmatt @charlottee3 @strnilolover

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starsfic · 3 days ago

Text

The Week After, Chapter 4: Day 3 and 4

The next two days passed in silence.

Morgan did the tax plus additional employment paperwork in the office, secretly glad that they thought to bring their social security card with them, just in case. Frankie stayed in the office as well, mumbling to himself as he tapped on a laptop. It was a ridiculous sight, considering how tall he was and how small the laptop was, but they swallowed back a laugh and focused on the paperwork.

The last step was to send the paperwork by scanning a QR code on the back. Morgan raised a brow but raised their phone up and scanned it. A link popped up and they clicked it. There was a soft ding, and a little animation of Frankie dancing popped up, with a message overhead saying that they were done.

With that done, Morgan stood up. They still had stuff to unpack and figure out where to put in the studio apartment that the break room now was. Their phone gave a second ding and they checked the screen.

“Holy fuck.”

“Language, my dear!” Frankie said, turning his head. “What is it?”

“I just got paid for this season,” they said, rubbing their eyes to make sure they didn’t mistake the number that had popped up. “That…it’s a lot.” It wasn’t five million dollars, but it was a lot, enough that it felt like more of a bribe than a paycheck. It was also more than they ever got from the stupid retail job or even gambling on the show, so Morgan was more than happy to accept the bribe.

“How much?”

That wasn’t Frankie’s voice. Morgan looked up to see two men walking up, both dressed in overalls and work clothes. They felt their body tense instinctively at the sight. “Who are you?”

“They’re here for me,” Frankie said, patting their shoulder.

“Yep, here for the updates,” the older of the two said, looking Frankie up and down. “It was a surprise when we got the order, but hey. Upgrades had to happen eventually.”

That felt like he was talking about something else. Frankie felt it, based on how his grip on their shoulder tightened. Then he released, patting their back. “Well, let’s go, shall we?” he said, stepping around them. “We don’t want to waste any of your time, do we?”

“Yep. Come on…”

The younger guy stayed back. His gaze didn’t seem angry, they realized- he looked awestruck. “So, how much?” he said. “I heard you agreed to do double or nothing.”

Morgan rattled out a number.

“Wow. That’s almost as much as the animators get paid.”

Huh. “The animators get paid a decent salary?” That raised several questions

The maintenance man chuckled. “Mostly because the boss is terrified of them, especially the director.” He leaned forward into a stage whisper. “From what I heard, he trusts her to manage his animations, and the last time he even thought of decreasing the pay, she made him regret it.” Morgan stifled a chuckle at the thought of Cartoon Frankie being terrified. From the few interactions they had, he had felt like he knew he was in charge and made sure you knew it.

“MITCHELL!” the older man boomed. “GET OFF YOUR ASS AND COME HELP ME!”

Mitchell jumped. “SORRY SWANSEA! COMING!” He turned back to them and smiled. “It was nice to meet you, though! Hope you don’t die next season!”

More questions rose up as he rushed away from them.

#my writing #Finding Frankie #FF #The Contestant #Real Frankie #Other Frankie

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lucky-clover-gazette · 1 day ago

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rating the volo voice lines from pokemon masters ex as i hear them for the first time

youtube

“I’m Volo of the Ginkgo Guild, the go-to choice for your mercantile needs.”

Sounds like he’s practicing his merchant persona in front of a mirror. Very pleased with his own performance. Might break out into song about it. 8/10

“Allow me to present this to you.”

Spot-on cadence of Chris Traeger from Parks and Recreation. 4/10

“Here’s a special treat for you!”

Creepy. Feels like he’s going to hand me a bomb. 2/10

“Oh! It’s looking lively around here.”

Sounds like he thinks he’s too cool for the party you’ve both walked into and wants to know that you hate it too. 7/10

“What a joy to be alive!”

Said with the paradoxical determination and resignation of someone who values his own life too highly to end it, but hates that life so fucking bad. 10/10

“Oh! My heart is racing with excitement!”

Sounds like he just made himself think of something he actually cares about in order to generate enthusiasm about your thing. Also, overdoing it on the “oh,” there. 7/10

“If we use this well, the world will open up.”

Whatever you say, beautiful. What are we talking about? 8/10

“I like you better and better!”

He’s telling the truth, but he likes me for reasons way less innocent and simple than my continued business. Regardless, the praise is appreciated. 10/10

“Fancy running into you again!”

Two possibilities: he very intentionally arranged this meeting and is pretending to be surprised, or he was surprised by the meeting and is pretending to be chill about it. 8/10

“Maybe we’ll get to know each other better now!”

Sounds like he’s about to ask for my social security number, and if I’m into men, and if I’m into giving men my social security number. 6/10

“Of course. I’d be glad to help.”

He’s foaming at the mouth to involve himself in whatever protagonist shit I’m up to right now. 9/10

“I can see a whole new world!”

According to Bulbapedia, he says this “upon reaching max level.” Is that like a relationship level? Does that mean I’m his world? Knowing his motivations in PLA, this could easily have a double meaning—getting close to me, and therefore Arceus, allows him to create a new world. This concerns me less because of the world erasure thing, and more because it might mean he doesn’t actually care about me. 1/10

“Let the battle begin!”

Doing a pretty good job sounding normal with this one. 3/10

“That’s it! Go right ahead!”

According to Bulbapedia he’s saying this to Togepi, which is very sweet. Also explains why it doesn’t sound fake as hell. 10/10

“Here you are!”

He says this to Togepi when he gives her an item in battle, I’m assuming a potion? Which is, again, extremely sweet. 10/10

“Pay me later!”

He says this while “using Trainer move,” which I assume is like his signature flourish during battle. The reference to his merchant persona is clever and he sounds like he’s very proud of it. I’m amused by the implication that I’m supposed to pay him for something, though. Is he helping me or battling me? Both? What are we, Volo? 4/10

“Delightful!”

Accompanies the “nice” emote. I’m not going to complain. 5/10

“Careful now!”

Accompanies the “watch out” emote. He sounds concerned, but like, in a “please don’t inconvenience me with your pain” way. I wish he truly cared, but maybe if I lie to myself, I can believe that he does. 3/10

“I’m filled with curiosity!”

Said with the exact cadence of Grunkle Stan talking to idiot tourists at the Mystery Shack. Ostensibly laughing at himself, but actually laughing at the people who are stupid enough to believe him. 9/10

“Pokemon battles are always good fun!”

He only says this when he wins, which means they’re not always good fun. Makes perfect sense for the character and I like the delivery. 8/10

“Too powerful…”

He says, actively fantasizing about eventually proving himself more powerful. 10/10

“BEHOLD! DESTINY! LEGENDS! UNDONE!”

Bulbapedia identifies these words as things he yells during “unity attack/theme skill.” I have no idea what that means. It sounds to me like he’s accidentally taken a double dose of his ADHD stimulant medication and is just saying whatever the fuck comes to mind. 6/10

“Allow me!”

Said while “switching in.” Assuming he’s helping me, this is rather nice to hear. I’m more than happy to set this strange contemptuous man on my battle opponent. 9/10

“Oh dear, that’s too bad.”

Said while “recalling fainted Pokemon.” Option 1: He’s recalling his Togepi and trying very hard to sound brave about it. 10/10. Option 2: He’s taunting me about my fainted Pokemon with a sickly-sweet condescending tone. Also 10/10.

“Good morning! Are you heading out today?”

I appreciate the casual greeting and barely-contained rabid interest in my protagonist activities. 8/10

“In that case, potions are a must.”

Thoughtful and dedicated to his quotas. It does feel like he’s five seconds from calling me “milady,” though. Wait, in PLA I think he actually does that. It might be “madam.” He’s so embarrassing. 7/10

“The weather outsider is lovely today.”

Sounds like he’s about to take his lunch break so we can enjoy it together. 8/10

“So, how about it? Care to go on an outing with me?”

Already beat him to it. He’s trying so hard to sound chill, but I think if I said no it would ruin his day. Also, what’s with “outing?” Just say “date.” The game knows you’re saying “date.” This is a dating sim. 10/10

“Please, don’t overexert yourself too late at night. I don’t want to lose one of my loyal customers!”

First, that’s what she said. 6/10. Second, he’s negging me again. 9/10. Third, he has other loyal customers?! 0/10

“Ah!”

Sounds like the peanut butter baby from that 2016 viral video. 4/10

“Rrrrrrr…”

Nintendog. 7/10

*Sighs deeply*

Agreed. 9/10

“Yes.”

Me when I say “yes.” 5/10

*Increasingly loud fake bouts of laughter*

This man is going to end up on the news. 10/10

*Evil chuckle, tapering off into deranged humming*

This man is going to end up at the Tony Awards. 10/10

*Bitchy throat clear that turns into a laugh*

This is how he laughs at the PLA protagonist after he insults their “curious getup.” 10/10

“Outstanding!”

He’s high, tipsy, and/or sleep deprived, and someone just suggested getting takeout. 6/10

“As expected…”

Apropos of nothing, but he does like to feel smart. 7/10

“CONGRAAAAAAATULATIONS!!!”

This is perfect. This is a perfect voice line. The voice actor understands the comedy of Volo’s character perfectly. Divine madness aside, he is a merchant NPC almost obsessively invested in the protagonist’s adventures—but unlike many such cases, the narrative both understands and demonstrates how fucking weird and off-putting that is. 1000000/10

“I wish you great fortune.”

Reminds me of the PLA line, “Supporting you now is actually an investment in my own fortunes.” The voice actor nails the double meaning. 7/10

“HOOOOW DARE????!!!!”

I can’t find an explanation for this line. I think it’s just random. He’s so fucking weird. Did he read that in a book? Is he in a bad play? 10/10

*Whimpering*

Took a quick break to walk around my apartment and poorly make the bed. No further comment. ?/10

*Relieved sigh*

It’s a relieved sigh.

*Literal actual moaning*

???????????????????

*Various other noises*

The people in the comments of this video were not exaggerating. Holy shit.

“Have some mercy!”

WHAT IS THIS GAME RATED??????

*Deep sigh* “Now then…”

I have no words. I don’t know. Why does this exist in the way it exists.

“Right! Thank you!”

I feel like I just witnessed something that I did not ask to witness. Does the Ginkgo Guild have a HR department?

“My apologies.”

That is not helping his case.

“Leave it to me!”

Good voice line. Great performance. He would say that. We’re back on track, love it. 5/10

“No thank yewwwwww…”

Bitch. 8/10

“Please!”

“Indeed…”

“That is quite something!”

All very normal. 5/10

“You’re too kind.”

This is the weirdest line delivery yet. He sounds unhinged. Something happened around the 1:19 point of this video that neither of us can pretend didn’t happen. ???/10

“Until next time.”

Spoken like a charming male musical theater lead who just did a little song and dance about his life philosophy. 9/10

“Come on, now.”

Getting weird again. There is nothing I could possibly possess that would necessitate that amount of beleaguered desperation. 6/10

“Let’s get our blood pumping!”

Not on the first date—sorry, outing. ?/10

“The mysteries of the past… oH-hO! How they tICKle my curiosity!”

Sure. Why not. 5/10

“Investigating the odd and novel is key to any good merchant’s success.”

This is delivered pretty much how I would imagine in the game! Also just such a fun line for him—he says this as if it makes all the sense in the world, but it literally doesn’t? It’s a total non-sequitor. Investigating the odd and novel have nothing to do with being a successful merchant, and later in the game he even admits to ditching work to do his research. I’ve always appreciated that part of his characterization—the way he knows that he’s bullshitting everyone and getting away with it, and is simultaneously so smug about his clever ruse and so miserable to be alone in his truth. 10/10

“A HISTORIC MOMENT!”

Deeply bizarre final line for a deeply bizarre character. I hope he says this about mundane shit like dropping a cup of coffee or getting an email. 10/10.

#my conclusion is ????????????#it was somehow more insane than i thought it would be #why did they do this #pla #volo #merchant volo #pokemon masters ex

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sickly-qt · 2 days ago

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Whatever you've got planned for Mila/Remy and Drew/Finn will be wonderful, but I have to admit I kind of hope Mila does get pregnant - the opportunities for Remy as caretaker are just so good, lol. And I feel like Drew and Finn are actually ready to step up to be parents themselves. But like I said, whatever you decide is great.

In the meantime, Mila has to catch Jules' bug and then pass it on to Remy, right? And Julian takes care of them both? Hmm?

AH I'm so sorry it took me so long to get around to this. But you are SO right, Mila totally has to catch Jules' bug (which happened here for anyone who missed it) and don't worry Remy isn't going to make it out unscathed he's going to suffer soon. However, for now it's Mila's turn.

I hope you enjoy!

~~~

“Feeling okay?” Remy asked, looking at Mila over his glasses.

She was coming down the stairs, her auburn hair damp and hanging in loose waves over her shoulders. What really caught his attention was the way her arms were wrapped around herself and the uncomfortable look on her face

“My stomach is upset.” Mila shrugged, then collapsed onto the couch and laid her head on Remy’s shoulder, looking at the iPad on his lap, “What are you working on?”

“Just putting together some projections for a meeting later this week. Boring stuff.”

“Don’t you ever stop working, it’s 7pm on a Saturday. You should be paying attention to me and your kids.” She complained.

“By kids you mean the one who’s still sleeping off a stomach bug from hell and the other that can’t be bothered with me because she’s distracted by some new gadget my mom got her?” Remy teased, “I work when I can find the time, and right at this moment, my time is for you.” He closed his iPad case and set it on the coffee table before wrapping his arms around Mila. “You’re warm.” Remy pushed her hair away from her face.

“I am? That’s great, I’ve probably caught what Jules is recovering from.” Mila nuzzled in closer to his side and sighed, “I really don’t feel well.”

“I know, Love. Let me get you something for that fever.”

Mila took the pills with no complaints and promptly passed out on the couch while Remy cleaned up dinner and got Leah bathed and settled for bed. After all of his dad duties he returned to his boyfriend duties and sat on the edge of the couch in front of Mila, gently shaking her awake.

She scrunched up her face and groaned, clearly not happy with having been woken up.

“C’mon, M. Let’s head up to bed.” He said quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear. He frowned, noticing the heat still radiating off her skin.

“I feel sick,” she whined.

“Nauseous sick or fever and achy sick?”

“Yes.” she sighed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

Mila slowly sat up and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth muffling a small burp. Remy looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“I’m gonna throw up.”

“Now?”

She shook her head, “I’ll make it upstairs.” She hiccupped, then grimaced and swallowed hard.

“Okay, c’mon. I actually rather like this carpet down here.”

Remy walked behind her upstairs, his hand hovering by the small of her back as she made her way to their bedroom.

He peeked in on Jules and Leah to make sure they were both sleeping before trailing Mila into the room where he found her hovering over the toilet in their en-suite.

“How are we doing, Lovely?” Remy asked gently, filling a glass with water and sitting it on the edge of the sink before grabbing a claw clip out of the vanity drawer.

Mila shook her head, hiccupping. A small burp came up and she gagged a trail of spit hanging from her lips into the water.

“I don’t feel good.” She stated the obvious.

“I know.” He cooed, gathering all her hair and twisting it up into the clip. Remy settled on the edge of the tub rubbing small circles across her shoulders.

It didn’t take long for her spine to curl and dinner to make a reappearance in the bowl.

She coughed and sputtered, small burps wracking her until a larger wave came up quickly followed by another.

“You’re alright, M. Get it all up.” Remy continued rubbing her back.

Strands of her hair were coming out of the claw clip and he pushed them out of her face, his hand holding her forehead.

“Ughhh, fuck.” Mila groaned, sniffling. She reached up and flushed the toilet, sitting back.

“Want some water?” Remy asked quietly.

She nodded, “Please?”

When she drinks some water and keeps it down for a little while they move to bed, Remy sitting the trashcan near her side of the bed just in case.

“I’m a big girl, I can make it to the bathroom.” She mumbled tiredly.

“I know, I know. It’s just in case, M.” He crawled into bed and she quickly curled up next to him, nestling her head in his neck.

Remy was exhausted, holding Mila’s hair back as she puked into the trashcan for the second time that night. He could only imagine how tired she was. She had run out of energy to run back and forth to the bathroom after the third trip.

Mila hiccupped and whined, water and bile trickling into the bin hugged to her chest.

“This is hell.” She complained, “Can you hand me some water?”

Remy reached around her and grabbed the water bottle off of the nightstand, opening it before handing it to her. She took a couple sips before burping over the trashcan.

“You’re doing great, Love. You’re a trooper.”

“If I keep puking I’m going to scream”

“As long as you keep drinking water I think we can avoid a trip to the doctor. I just don’t want you getting as dehydrated as Jules… your fever seems to be sitting around 100.3.”

Mila took a couple more sips of water and hovered over the bin for a couple more minutes before she sat it on the floor and laid back down with a sigh.

“I’m going to apologize ahead of time for when you catch this.” She said, staring at the ceiling.

“I’ll live, just like you will. Nothing could keep me from holding back your hair while you’re puking your pretty little guts up.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Mila rolled over, laying her head on Remy’s chest.

“I’m serious.” He ran his fingers up and down her arm, “nothing in the world could keep me from staying up all night taking care of my vomiting girlfriend.”

“You’re ridiculous… I love you.”

“I love you too.” Remy pressed a kiss into her hair, “Get some rest, Love.”

#my writing #my ocs #emeto #sickfic #illness #mila #remy

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lililye · 2 days ago

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Between Lies

Synopsis: At a party, tensions rise when Rafe confronts the protagonist about her closeness to someone he disapproves of. As they argue, emotions run high, and she demands honesty from him. Can Rafe prove he’s worthy of a chance, or will their toxic cycle continue?

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. Apologies for any mistakes!

I'm entering Topper's huge house alone again, seeing the same boring people complaining about the same things.

Yesterday, I was at Rafe's house with him, and he freaked out because I got close to Sarah. It's like he doesn't want me to be part of his family.I walk past everyone, smiling, and see the host on the porch. I decide to talk to him.

"Hey! I didn’t think you’d come after everything," Topper says as he hugs me.

"Sorry, I think I missed something. After everything what?"

"Rafe told me you did something bad yesterday and that you two fought. I don't think you should be here, you know how he is. If he sees you here..."

"I think Rafe got the story wrong. It’s fine, I’ll catch you later."

I walk away, blood boiling. It’s unbelievable that, after being unbearable yesterday, he’s now spreading lies. I grab a beer and notice a guy staring at me. Jonah, I think that’s his name. I smile and keep walking.We start dancing a little to the music playing. He touches my waist and pulls me closer.

After I get tired, I go sit outside. I hear a noise, look to the side, and see Rafe walking toward me. He looks furious, his jaw clenched, and his eyes locked on me. My heart races, but I keep my composure. I won’t let him see I’m bothered.

"What do you think you’re doing?" he snaps, his voice filled with anger.

"What does it look like? I’m enjoying the party,"

I reply, trying to sound calm, but my tone comes out sharper than I intended.

"Dancing like that with Jonah?" He leans in, his voice lowering but still venomous. "Are you trying to get attention or provoke me?"

"Maybe a little of both," I retort, crossing my arms and staring at him. "But honestly, it’s none of your business, Rafe. After yesterday, you don’t get to tell me how to act or who to be around."

He takes a step forward, and for a moment, I think he’s going to explode. But instead, he lets out a dry, disdainful laugh.

"You really don’t get it, do you? This..." he gestures between me and the house around us, "isn’t your place. You’ll never fit in."

Those words hit me like a punch in the stomach, but I refuse to show it. I stand up, getting face to face with him.

"You know what, Rafe? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t fit into your rotten little world full of lies. But if there’s one thing I won’t do, it’s stoop to the level of someone who needs to lie to others to feel important."

He doesn’t respond immediately, but his face twists in anger. Before he can say anything, I turn on my heel and walk back to the party, feeling his gaze burning into my back. The air feels heavy, but I refuse to let him ruin my night.Rafe follows me, and in the middle of the crowd, he grabs my arm. Everyone stops to watch, and I’m furious. How dare he contradict himself?

"We need to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you. You don’t want me, Rafe."

"That’s not true. Don’t make this complicated."

I let out a dry laugh, dripping with irony, and look straight at him.

"Complicated? Do you even hear yourself, Rafe? Yesterday, you lost it with me, today you’re spreading lies, and now you want to have this conversation in front of everyone? I’m not the one complicating things—you are."

He looks momentarily taken aback but quickly regains his controlling tone.

"I just… I don’t want you leaving here thinking this is all my fault."

I take a step forward, closing the distance between us.

"But it is, Rafe. It’s all your fault. You want to push me away, but at the same time, you act like you can’t let me go. It’s exhausting. I’m not a game for you to win."

The people around us are whispering, and I realize everyone’s paying attention. But at this moment, I don’t care.

Rafe takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to control his anger or find the right words.

"I just… I don’t want you with anyone here."

"That’s not your choice!" My voice rises slightly, but I work to keep calm. "You can’t control everything, Rafe. Either let me into your life for real, or let me go. It’s that simple."

Ele hesita, e por um momento, vejo algo como vulnerabilidade em seus olhos. Mas cansei de tentar descobrir o que se passa na cabeça dele. "Você decide, Rafe. Mas decida logo, porque eu não vou ficar nesse ciclo tóxico."

Mais tarde, quando a festa começa a acabar, sento-me no jardim para finalmente respirar. Ouço passos e sei quem é antes mesmo de me virar.

"Can I sit?" he asks.I shrug, not looking at him.

"Do what you want."

He sits next to me, staying silent for a while before finally saying:

"I know I messed everything up. I know you have every right to be mad at me."

"And what are you going to do about it, Rafe?"

He takes a deep breath, his eyes sincere.

"I want to change. I want to do things right, but I need you to give me a chance. Just one."

"Then you’ll have to prove you’re worth it."

He takes my hand, and this time, I let him. Maybe it’s the start of something new. Or maybe he still has a lot to learn.

#obx #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe fanfiction

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