#which we had to read for a literature course

[mermaidsirennikita]

I gotta say this is also very unsuprising casting when you think about it. Like as soon as the shock had worn off I was like...yeah of course she cast them.

Oh yeah, it does make sense because Emerald isn't about what's good for the project, Emerald is about what makes Emerald happy. Which is why I fundamentally can't get into her creatively.

Because of course, any creative has their aesthetic, their sensibility, their work. And I respect that, as a creative.

But you also have to kill your darlings. And we think of that in the writing sense most often—cut that sentence, that scene, that chapter if it doesn't truly serve the work. Scrap the whole thing and start over if it's truly not what it should be.

I'm a STRONG believer in that, to be fair. Brutal. Maybe too much so? Lol. Or I'd have a book out by now.

But anyway, it applies to every type of creative work, imo. You don't cast someone because YOU like them, particularly in an adaptation of a work as iconic as Wuthering Heights. You cast them because they are right for the role.

Heathcliff and Cathy, especially Heathcliff, are two of the most groundbreaking and influential characters in literature of the past 3 centuries. Heathcliff's lack of proximity (for his era) to whiteness is particularly central to the role, and I don't know anyone who seriously takes this work apart and isn't like... actively racist... who interprets Heathcliff as white. It's so crucial to his character that he is "other" in his society.

It's just TRULY a shame to me that she not only cast someone as subpar as Elordi, but someone so, so white. Like, I wouldn't want a white actor I love to play Heathcliff. And this is a fabulous role for a man of color, too.

The last adaptation did cast a man of color, but it was frankly not a very high profile project and not well done.

(I also think it would be compelling to cast a man of Roma descent OR a man of Asian, specifically South Asian descent because the text literally uses a contemporary term for Indian men to describe him... Though Nelly also speculates that he has Chinese heritage, and there are definitely some implications that he could be descended from presumably African enslaved people. The latter I could definitely see being an interpretation when you factor in the speculation that he's Mr. Earnshaw's illegitimate child. I think there's always this idea that "catch-all" terms were probably being used to describe Heathcliff's appearance, but I've thought for a while that I would personally most love to see a Roma actor or a South Asian actor play him.

But like. Literally any other than a white guy.)

This will be much more high profile, with way more attention, and it just really sucks that Emerald decided to use it to push one of her faves. It tells me that she has very little respect for the text. On what planet would anyone, even in the 1800s, look at Jacob Elordi and think that he was anything other than a white guy.

And again, I think Margot is way too old to play Cathy, and honestly doesn't read in any way as Cathy to me. I say that as someone who, again, considers her a very strong actress when she's in her element. I just. Ugh.

[liefst]

swallows flying over the roof of my house... thinking of you (virginia woolf)

[skibasyndrome]

So one thing I've always loved about uni/studying/learning new things is when you have different subjects or different tiny dots of knowledge and slowly, as you learn more and more, those tiny splashes of knowledge are becoming less isolated, and you realize that it's all connected and - at least with my subjects being in the humanities - you sort of “unlock” this new perspective on a certain aspect of the human condition. And like, that's fun enough and - if I'm being honest - probably my favorite thing about studying already as it is, BUT NOW, now that I've finally gotten back into writing as a hobby this is just ANOTHER dimension for me to expand that knowledge into and to use that knowledge for. And I am absolutely living for it. So happy to be back on my bullshit and so happy to be at a place in my life where these two passions of mine fit so seamlessly together and one passion benefits from the other and vice versa

[cup-of-starlight-waters]

Okay, let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time, there was a prose translation of the Pearl Poet’s Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It was wonderfully charming and lyrical and perfect for use in a high school, and so a clever English teacher (as one did in the 70s) made a scan of the book for her students, saved it as a pdf, and printed copies off for her students every year. In true teacher tradition, she shared the file with her colleagues, and so for many years the students of the high school all studied Sir Gawain and the Green Knight from the same (very badly scanned) version of this wonderful prose translation.

In time, a new teacher became head of the English Department, and while he agreed that the prose translation was very wonderful he felt that the quality of the scan was much less so. Also in true teacher tradition, he then spent hours typing up the scan into a word processor, with a few typos here and there and a few places where he was genuinely just guessing wildly at what the scan actually said. This completed word document was much cleaner and easier for the students to read, and so of course he shared it with his colleagues, including his very new wide-eyed faculty member who was teaching British Literature for the first time (this was me).

As teachers sometimes do, he moved on for greener (ie, better paying) pastures, leaving behind the word document, but not the original pdf scan. This of course meant that as I was attempting to verify whether a weird word was a typo or a genuine artifact of the original translation, I had no other version to compare it to. Being a good card-holding gen zillenial I of course turned to google, making good use of the super secret plagiarism-checking teacher technique “Quotation Marks”, with an astonishing result:

By which I mean literally one result.

For my purposes, this was precisely what I needed: a very clean and crisp scan that allowed me to make corrections to my typed edition: a happily ever after, amen.

But beware, for deep within my soul a terrible Monster was stirring. Bane of procrastinators everywhere, my Curiosity had found a likely looking rabbit hole. See, this wonderfully clear and crisp scan was lacking in two rather important pieces of identifying information: the title of the book from which the scan was taken, and the name of the translator. The only identifying features were the section title “Precursors” (and no, that is not the title of the book, believe me I looked) and this little leaf-like motif by the page numbers:

(Remember the leaf. This will be important later.)

We shall not dwell at length on the hours of internet research that ensued—how the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, grading abandoned in shadows half-lit by the the blue glow of the computer screen—how google search after search racked up, until an email warning of “unusual activity on your account” flashed into momentary existence before being consigned immediately and with some prejudice to the digital void—how one third of the way through a “comprehensive but not exhaustive” list of Sir Gawain translators despair crept in until I was left in utter darkness, screen black and eyes staring dully at the wall.

Above all, let us not admit to the fact that such an afternoon occurred not once, not twice, but three times.

Suffice to say, many hours had been spent in fruitless pursuit before a new thought crept in: if this book was so mysterious, so obscure as to defeat the modern search engine, perhaps the answer lay not in the technologies of today, but the wisdom of the past. Fingers trembling, I pulled up the last blast email that had been sent to current and former faculty and staff, and began to compose an email to the timeless and indomitable woman who had taught English to me when I was a student, and who had, after nearly fifty years, retired from teaching just before I returned to my alma mater.

After staring at the email for approximately five or so minutes, I winced, pressed send, and let my plea sail out into the void. I cannot adequately describe for you the instinctive reverence I possess towards this teacher; suffice to say that Ms English was and is a woman of remarkable character, as much a legend as an institution as a woman of flesh and blood whose enduring influence inspired countless students. There is not a student taught by Ms. English who does not have a story to tell about her, and her decline in her last years of teaching and eventual retirement in the face of COVID was the end of an era. She still remembers me, and every couple months one of her contemporaries and dear friends who still works as a guidance counsellor stops me in the hall to tell me that Ms. English says hello and that she is thrilled that I am teaching here—thrilled that I am teaching honors students—thrilled that I am now teaching the AP students. “Tell her I said hello back,” I always say, and smile.

Ms. English is a legend, and one does not expect legends to respond to you immediately. Who knows when a woman of her generation would next think to check her email? Who knows if she would remember?

The day after I sent the email I got this response:

My friends, I was shaken. I was stunned. Imagine asking God a question and he turns to you and says, “Hold on one moment, let me check with my predecessor.”

The idea that even Ms. English had inherited this mysterious translation had never even occurred to me as a possibility, not when Ms. English had been a faculty member since the early days of the school. How wonderful, I thought to myself. What a great thing, that this translation is so obscure and mysterious that it defeats even Ms. English.

A few days later, Ms. English emailed me again:

(I had, in fact searched through both the English office and the Annex—a dark, weirdly shaped concrete storage area containing a great deal of dust and many aging copies of various books—a few days prior. I had no luck, sadly.)

At last, though, I had a title and a description! I returned to my internet search, only to find to my dismay that there was no book that exactly matched the title. I found THE BRITISH TRADITION: POETRY, PROSE, AND DRAMA (which was not black and the table of contents I found did not include Sir Gawain) and THE ENGLISH TRADITION, a super early edition of the Prentice Hall textbooks we use today, which did have a black cover but there were absolutely zero images I could find of the table of contents or the interior and so I had no way of determining if it was the correct book short of laying out an unfortunate amount of cold hard cash for a potential dead end.

So I sighed, and relinquished my dreams of solving the mystery. Perhaps someday 30 years from now, I thought, I’ll be wandering through one of those mysterious bookshops filled with out of print books and I’ll pick up a book and there will be the translation, found out last!

So I sighed, and told the whole story to my colleagues for a laugh. I sent screenshots of Ms. English’s emails to my siblings who were also taught by her. I told the story to my Dad over dinner as my Great Adventure of the Week.

…my friends. I come by my rabbit-hole curiosity honestly, but my Dad is of a different generation of computer literacy and knows a few Deep Secrets that I have never learned. He asked me the title that Ms. English gave me, pulled up some mysterious catalogue site, and within ten minutes found a title card. There are apparently two copies available in libraries worldwide, one in Philadelphia and the other in British Columbia. I said, “sure, Dad,” and went upstairs. He texted me a link. Rolling my eyes, I opened it and looked at the description.

Huh, I thought. Four volumes, just like Ms. English said. I wonder…

Armed with a slightly different title and a publisher, I looked up “The English Tradition: Fiction macmillan” and the first entry is an eBay sale that had picture of the interior and LO AND BEHOLD:

THE LEAF. LOOK AT THE LEAF.

My dad found it! He found the book!!

Except for one teensy tiny problem which is that the cover of the book is uh a very bright green and not at all black like Ms. English said. Alas, it was a case of mistaken identity, because The English Tradition: Poetry does have a black cover, although it is the fiction volume which contains Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

And so having found the book at last, I have decided to purchase it for the sum of $8, that ever after the origins of this translation may once more be known.

In this year of 2022 this adventure took place, as this post bears witness, the end, amen.

(Edit: See here for part 2!)

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Hey there could I request G!P professor!nat x shy!quiet!reader where reader goes to the school dance alone and feels like a loser for not having the balls to talk or join in with other people but then nat decides to keep her company because she can’t stand seeing her favorite student all pathetic just standing there like a lost puppy and then they sneak off to do “other” stuff

Favourite

Paring: fem!reader x prof!Nat

Warnings: SMUT, amab!Nat, top!Nat, bottom!reader, age gap (legal), taboo relationship, soft sex, p in v, brief oral, soft!Nat, virgin!reader, gentlewoman!Nat

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

A/N: I’m not dead yet and more active noe

I had always thought in college things would change for girls like me, the quiet ones, with a few friends, who you would only talk to to copy their homework. However it stayed that way or at least for me. I had found my small group of friends but I was far from well socialised in my college. But I wasn’t complaining about it either after all it left more time to study.

Most of the lessons I attended were boring except for one: Russians literature with Professors Romanoff, a tall, athletic woman, with red hair and the greenest eyes you had ever seen. You didn’t mind her talking for hours about poems and novels and what we were supposed to think of them. However you couldn’t care less about the words leaving her mouth when you’re eyes were only fixated on her lips.

Eventually more of the semester passed and soon it was time for the annual ball. Because of your low social status you didn’t even try to find a date opting on going alone instead, it wouldn’t be that bad right?

Once there you where alone, the few friends which you had didn’t bother to attend so you stood alone at the side of the large room your eyes fixated on the ground. You should just go, you thought to yourself. “Good evening, Y/N” you heard the familiar husky voice next to you. You looked up only to be greeted by your smirking professor. She looked gorgeous having picked out a matching suit to her eyes.

“Hi, Ms. Romanoff” she leaned against the wall next to me her eyes darting over my smaller body. “Where’s your date?” “I don’t have one” I answered truthfully, her expression stayed the same it was hard to read her. “And you’re friends?” I sighed she knew the answer to that already. “They didn’t attend.” She chuckled licking her lips like a predator who just found it’s helpless prey. “Poor girl, all alone and needs her professor to keep her company”

I let out a small laugh which sounded incredibly fake. Her words made my cheeks heat and I didn’t even know why. “Could be worse” I looked up in her eyes again “You’re a very pleasant conversation partner” “Am I?” She chuckled “That means a lot to me, hearing my favorite student say something like that” “I’m your favorite?” you stammered out “Trust me bunny a girl like you” Her hand trailed to my hip “You hardly get something like that every ten years. I’m very happy to have you”

Her words made my heart flutter and my head turn. I was special, Romanoff’s girl. “Do you mean that?” My voice was still a bit shaky. “Of course I do. We should go somewhere more private” I nodded her hand intertwined with mine she pulled me with her through the masses into the parking lot. Once seated in her expensive looking her hand never left my thigh before she started the car she leaned over to me our lips inches apart I tried to lean forward but her hands pushed my shoulder back against the car seat.

“Don’t do this to make me happy” She paused her eyes looking sensire “It won’t affect your grade no matter how you decide.” “I want this”

I breathed out our lips immediately finding each other. The kiss was passionate and heated until Nat pulled away to fasten my seat belt.

“I’ll drive to my apartment” She put her own seatbelt on “Is that okay with you or do you want to go to your dorm” “I’d like to join your tonight” Natasha gave you a cheeky grin at the response her plan had worked out perfectly.

Arriving at her apartment she seated you on her leather couch. She paced around her living room having two wine glasses in hand. “Do you want a glass?” I laughed I was extremely nervous but in a good way “Oh, I don’t drink but I’ll have a water instead” She just nodded accepting my preferences.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve met” She laughed slipping away from her wine glass. “And I’m not just saying that because of the wine.” She added she was sat next to her hand on your thigh. She had long forgotten about her crumpled up suit jacket on the ground though she normally was so precise about keeping everything organized.

“You don’t look bad either” You laughed she pulled you on her lap forcing you to but your legs on either side her crotch on yours. “Let me kiss you” she mumbled against you wet lips. You lips were pressed together so where your bodies and you could feel a bulge poking you. “Fuck you make me so hard” she breathed out on your lips making you moan out in response.

We were caught in the dance of our tongues when I felt her standing up her arms under my ass supporting my weight. I giggle and tighten my grip around her. “Let me take you to the bedroom”

She laid me out on the bed being careful with every item removed and making sure I was comfortable. She kissed everything inch of my skin paying extra attention to my sweet spots and I never felt so loved before. “Have you done that before” She breathed put against my skin.

“Never” I answer truthfully and suddenly I felt a dang of jealousy in my chest. “Is that- a problem?” My professor moved up again before kissing me “Of course not” She looked me in the eyes with her green eyes. “Will you let me be your first” She was being incredibly cheesy but Iiked that. It made me feel safe. “Yes”

She took one of my nipples in her mouth twisting and turning the other with her trained fingertips. She made me putty in her hands with each lick or flick she brought a new sound from my tongue.

My back arched which only made her increase the speed of her movements. After she seemed it to be enough foreplay she kissed her way down to my pubic bone, pressing her nose against my skin to take in the smell of my sweet arrausel. “Can I bunny?” She smirked and kissed your clit I was already wet but Nat was dying for a taste. She flicked her tongue over my now exposed bud. The pleasure was incredible better than any other toy I ever had and you tried to not lose my mind as she teased you bundle of nerves.

She pulled away shortly after ripping away my release in front of my eyes. I looked at her confused as she was already freeing herself from her boxer. She didn’t have a size to be ashamed of and her bush was well groomed too, like you would’ve suspected. She pumped herself a few times groaning until she was fully hard a little droplet of cum on the redden tip.

“Wait I’ll put a condom on” She reached for the drawer but you stopped her “I’m on the pill” Her lips formed a smirk as she positioned herself between my legs. “It’s not gonna hurt sweetheart” She reassured you kissing my neck.

She pushed inside and I making me scratch down her toned back making her whimper. Fuck her whimpers where hot. She bottomed me out looking down at where our bodies were connected she smiled up at you and you smiled back and after I nodded to her she picked up pace.

She was slow at first making me want more you could tell she being careful with you. “Faster” I moaned out making you hips buckle into her trusts. She moaned like a pornstar panting above me as she increased her speed the bed creaking. She made my back arch and my eyes squeezed shut as I released my quiet prayers for her.

“You close?” She panted and I nod “Fuck, your so tight” I grabbed on her shoulders scratching down as I came all over her shortly after she filled me up too. She pulled out the cum leaking down my legs. She climbed up my body flipping us over so I lay on her chest.

“You’re my favourite” She whispered and kissed my sweaty forehead

:)

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

I'm sure you've heard this thousands of times before, but "we so rarely get to thank those who shaped us" as Neil Gaiman says, and I just wanted to say thank you for "The Anthropocene Reviewed."

In podcast as well as book form, it's meant so much to me, and accompanied me through some hard times (I reread "The World's Largest Ball of Paint" on the days when I feel like I'm losing sight of hope - which is, even to me, "a prerequisite for my survival").

I'm so grateful to have had Vlogbrothers, Crash Course and "The Anthropocene Reviewed" to keep me company through my college years - thank you so, so much for all that you do.

P.S - As my annotation would suggest, this is truly one of my favourite ways to describe what it means to love literature.

My greatest dream has always been that people would annotate and dogear and highlight my books. (As long as it's not a library copy!!) Books belong to their readers, and when readers care enough to make that book fully theirs by interacting with it so deeply that they change the book itself, it just means the world to me.

Thank you for bringing so much of your self to your reading of The Anthropocene Reviewed.

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman and Female Reader

Finale

Word Count ~ 3.3k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ fluff and smut, pregnancy

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl @kawaiichookie @vexillum-moeru @blackcurrant28 @r4yyyyy @dazedin2d @mrsspector-grant

The true name of your doppelgänger is crooned into your ear.

A sound that is strangely soothing, syllables slipping like water in a brook, a gentle rush of water.

You attempt to replicate the sound and of course it doesn’t come out right. He’d warned you of this. The human tongue is incapable of replicating the foreign language.

“Why do you have such an easy time learning ours and we can’t learn yours?”

He’s gone back to the human version of his being, the tired eyes of the milkman studying your frustrated features, his fingers stroking and smoothing away the lines creasing your brow and the corners of your mouth.

“The newness of it, maybe. Yours is a relatively young race.”

You prop your head up on your hand, dragging fingernails over your lover’s chest. “How old are you?”

“Me, or my species?”

“Both.”

He turns onto his back, nestling down in the pillows. “In Earth years….we have existed for tens of thousands of years. I’m a tenth of that.”

“You are not over a thousand years old,” you murmur in disbelief.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles softly. “You’re right, I’m not. I’m teasing. Sorry, love. More like one hundredth of that.”

“A century.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wow.” It’s hard to reconcile the idea. Despite whatever face he wears, you’ve always thought of him as near enough your own age. “An older man, huh?”

“Something like that.” He lifts the hand you have resting on his bare chest and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Is that okay?”

“It’s a little late to ask, but yes, it’s definitely okay.” You bend to kiss his mouth. “I really wanted to learn your name.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He worries his bottom lip, considering. “What if I tried to describe what it meant instead? And we discovered a language equivalent that was similar.”

“Alright,” you agree.

The milkman’s copy pauses, considering. “In Greek mythology, there was a name for something otherworldly that was borrowed from Latin, then later used to describe a kind of afterlife. Fields of paradise. An eternal resting place of bliss for the worthy. Elysium. But that notion of otherworldly is the best way to describe it. The original term is Elysian.”

“Elysian,” you try it out. It sounds nothing like what the alien had said earlier, of course, but the idea is there. “I like it. It’s pretty sounding.”

“Well, that’s it, then.”

“Elysian,” you repeat, bending to kiss his mouth again. He smiles against your lips. “You like hearing it, huh?”

“It’s pleasant, I’ll admit.”

A sudden thought occurs to you. “How do you know about Greek mythology?” You have never seen anything that indicated the milkman read classical literature.

The doppel clears his throat, looking a little nervous. “There was a professor.”

“Oh.” Of course Francis wasn’t the first human he’d ever cloned. “Did you…take him over, too?”

“No. Just replicated. Retired. Library at home.” He squirms a little, looking uncomfortable.

“Did you…” You don’t really want to give voice to the query. You’re not even sure precisely which it is. Kill? Consume?

“Sweetheart, please don’t ask me that.”

You swallow thickly. You forget, sometimes. Caught up as you are in how he is now. Denying what he used to be.

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t remember.”

“But you remember what you read in a book.”

The doppel sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “It was awhile ago.”

“Not who you were when you…Francis…”

“No.”

“How many? How many people have you…”

He sits up, and you straighten beside him. “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s not who I am anymore. What I am. You know that.”

“I know. I just…” Your voice trails off again.

“Listen to me, sweet girl. All that matters now to me is you. Keeping you safe. Making you happy. I love you.” He plants a kiss on your bare shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

“We should go to sleep. Work in the morning. And that damned box to deal with,” he mutters, leaning to switch the bedside lamp off.

You feel him lying down again and you snuggle next to him, your head pillowed against his chest, his arm curled around you. You’re wide awake, now. Questions spiral in your mind. “Elysian?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever miss your planet?”

“Maybe a little. I did. Not so much now.” His arm around you tightens.

“What was it like?”

“Very green. More of a tropical climate, I suppose you would say.”

“And you left because…”

“Food shortage.”

A brisk answer. You’re not going to ask what precisely the doppels consumed in their native location. “Have you been to any other planets?”

“One. Small. We didn’t stay long.”

Another ominous answer. Not enough to eat, perhaps? Did anyone ever properly repel the invaders? Or were they an unstoppable force, like a plague of locusts sweeping the land, consuming everything in their path, leaving nothing but desolation in their wake?

“What’s it like traveling in space?”

“So many questions tonight.” His lips press against you hair. “It’s indescribable, really. Beautiful. Vast. Daunting. Someday, I would like to show you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as you both mull over that prospect. You had never thought much about space travel. Had no real knowledge of astronomy. But the idea of exploring the stars with this creature by your side made you curious. What would it be like, to be so far away from the only home you've ever known? You feel the gentle rise and fall as the doppelgänger’s lungs expand and deflate and hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. You try to match his rhythm. A game you haven’t played since childhood. Facing off with a friend in the schoolyard. While cuddling with a parent at home. That is what he feels like to you. Home. How fiercely you want to protect him. You squeeze his shoulder.

“What happens when you run out of members of your squadron to send here for sacrifice?” You ask quietly. A concern you’ve harbored for a long time finally given voice.

“Let’s not worry about that tonight, okay? I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

“Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to be harmed, either.”

“I know, my love. Now try to sleep.”

You shut your eyes, thinking there’s no way you’ll be falling asleep anytime soon, only to find yourself proven wrong as you soon descend into slumber.

***

You awaken to darkness.

It’s early, dawn still a ways off. You reach out drowsily to find the doppelgänger sitting upright beside you in bed.

“Elysian?”

“There’s a doppel,” he says softly. “But something about it is off. I don’t…”

You’re instantly alert again, jerking upright, throwing the sheet off of you. “Where is it? Outside? On this floor?”

Had you let one in by mistake? Or was this some new intrusion?

“I’m not sure,” he replies distractedly. The weight on the mattress shifts as he rises, his face barely visible when he draws back the curtain to peer at the street below. “Not outside,” he declares. “Closer than that.”

Your pulse quickens. Inside, then.

“Wait there,” he advises. “I’ll go have a look around.”

You immediately disobey, sliding out of bed. You can’t just sit still waiting for whatever was going to happen. You pad barefoot out of the room, finding yourself in more darkness. Your fingers trail on the wall as you move forward, your feet leaving carpet and finding linoleum.

“Elysian?” You hiss, squinting, trying to detect him in the shadows.

“I told you to stay in the other room,” his voice growls from somewhere to your right. The living room. “It was gone, but now I’m sensing it again”

You bump into the couch, finally deciding it’s more of a hazard trying to find your way in the dark, invader be damned, reaching blindly until you crash into the lamp, nearly knocking it over before your fingers fumble for the switch.

Francis’ doppel paces the small apartment, even unlocking and cracking open the front door before shaking his head and shutting it again. His gaze meets yours.

“So where is it?”

He steps towards you slowly. His eyes widen. “Is it possible…”

“What?”

“Sweetheart.” He stands before you, laying a palm on your abdomen.

“I’m…”

“Carrying my baby. Our baby.” His other hand cups your cheek tenderly. “We did it, my love.”

He gathers you against him, his face burrowed into your neck. Wet. He’s crying. You’re crying, too. Weeping. Relief. Joy. A new kind of fear. Maternal instinct kicking in already.

You had to protect your unborn hybrid child.

***

There’s no sleep to be found for either of you now.

You’re cuddled on the couch, wrapped in Francis’ bathrobe, the doppelgänger’s arm curled around you protectively, waiting for the new day to begin.

“I’m afraid to make an appointment with the doctor. I should go, but…what if they find out?”

“Best not then, love. Just to be safe. You should talk to your mother. Whatever you need to be doing, what to expect…”

You nod. “We need to get married as soon as possible.”

“You’re already my wife in every way that matters, but yes, we will. Very soon.” He pauses. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I know your reasoning behind it, but I think you should stop working for the DDD. Especially since we’re moving into your house together. There’s no reason for either of us to be anywhere near here anymore. Let’s go, sweetheart. Leave this behind. Start over. Begin our life together properly.”

“Let me give a notice. Finish this week, and the next. It’s just how we do things. Allow them time to find a replacement. We still have the box to deal with,” you remind him.

“Then you’ll leave the DDD?”

“Yes, I’ll leave.”

He sighs heavily. “Thank you.”

“What time do you think it is?”

“Maybe three? I left my watch in the other room. Can’t see the clock from here,” he murmurs against your cheek. “We still have time.”

“I was thinking we should go downstairs. Tamper with the device right now before the sun even rises.” You lean back to look at your lover. “They’ll keep working on it. There’s no guarantee they won’t succeed again. Or find another means.”

“I know. But that won’t be your fight, love. That’s for someone else to worry about.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Yes,” he admits. “More than I ever have been. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it. Our baby is worth it.”

***

The director of the DDD requests an exit interview with you.

Really not a request, more of a requirement. You’re not entirely surprised. You didn’t think you’d escape quite that easily.

It’s been a little over a week since you and Elysian sabotaged the anti doppelgänger frequency box. Lying about the results on the survey after the allotted trial period. A temporary solution to a larger problem, but at least your doppel was safe for now.

And your baby. Your half human, half doppelgänger child nestled in your belly.

You try not to rest your hand on it as you sit before the stern faced man’s desk. Of course there is nothing visible yet, your stomach still flat, but you’d already grown accustomed to touching there. You force your hands to meet and fold together in your lap, your head bowed slightly, the very picture of meekness and subservience that seemed so favorable for women of the time.

“You’ve submitted your two weeks notice.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the reason for that is?”

“I’m getting married. Ready to settle down, start a family.”

He grunts. You can’t tell if it’s approving or not. “People don’t often leave the DDD. Not voluntarily,” he adds.

“Yes, sir. I’m aware. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I feel it’s the right one.”

“Not going to be easy to replace you. Not if you gave two months notice, let alone two weeks,” he admits grudgingly. “The DDD thanks you for your service. I’m certain you’ll still uphold the tenets of the cause, even if you’re no longer formally employed by us.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The middle aged man begins to slide a document across the desk towards you after signing it and stamping it with the official seal, only to halt at the last moment, staring hard at you. Your eyes lift to meet his.

“I understand there’s a new vacancy in that residence now. Another rare occurrence.”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“The milkman that was missing that day of your…indiscretion. Francis Moss, wasn’t it?”

“Mosses,” you correct, then wince internally.

“Yes. Him.”

You remain silent, your hand still stretched out, reaching for the paper. Your heart thuds in your chest. Please, just let me go. Please, please…

You suddenly have the document clutched tightly in your hand. He was letting you go after all. Freedom. You force yourself to walk from the room at a dignified pace, the paper carried in front of you like a shield. When you exit the office building your tense, rigid posture relaxes and you heave a sigh of relief. Another challenge overcome on the road to forever with your doppel.

***

You love coming home to your fiancé.

Seeing his delivery truck in the driveway. Soon you’ll be the one welcoming him inside every afternoon. But for now, he’s the first one to your inherited farmhouse, waiting for you on the porch he’d raced up to kiss you all those months ago, gifting you a taste of new rain and the smell of fresh petrichor.

“How did it go?” His tone is casual but you know better, seeing his white knuckled grip on the railing.

“I’m free.” You wave the letter in the air and he snatches it from your hand, hurriedly scanning the words.

“You really are,” he murmurs, looking bewildered and relieved.

“That doesn’t mean they won’t still be watching. But for now, for now…”

He smiles at you, one arm wrapping around your waist. “Should we celebrate?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Hmmm…” He hums thoughtfully, his lips brushing your ear. “Come inside with me, love.”

***

There are little details of the house that bear traces of Francis Mosses, now. The crocheted blanket rests over your couch. The portable record player has a permanent home in your bedroom. The dresser hosts a collection of your doppel’s things: a belt, cologne, some spare change, a wooden handled hairbrush. There’s a shirt that needs mending hung on the post at the end of the bed.

“I’ll fix this later.”

“Mmm hmm.” His eyes never stray from your face. You sit on the edge of the bed and he kneels in front of you, sliding each shoe off, caressing your calves. You sink a hand into his hair, bending to plant a kiss on his forehead, inhaling his scent. Notes of bergamot, the clean citrus in his cologne. Your shampoo now in his hair. Strawberry. Everything a combination of you two. Already joined in so many ways.

His hand cups one knee, his palm warm and comforting over the joint. He slides it inside, stroking under your skirt, creeping between your thighs. He nudges at the clothing that is your work attire, shoving impatiently to gain better access. You accommodate him, pushing yourself back until you’re lying horizontally across the mattress, your skirt now rucked up around your hips, the doppel’s fingers dragging your panties out of the way.

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart.”

He’s on his hands and knees above you. You work on the fly of his pants. Your haste makes you clumsy. The metal teeth of the zipper catch on the fabric of his pants. He shakes his head, laughing softly, the sound turning to a growl when he struggles in your wake. It finally gives and he lowers himself down, guiding his cock into your entrance.

You gasp and his mouth crushes yours, swallowing the sound.

His hips press yours and you’re thinking of the nearby field with its fading summer flowers. That’s where you want to be wed. Here beneath the open sky, in this sanctuary of yours. You whisper it beside his cheek and he draws back, looking at your features. “Is that what you want, love?”

“Yes.” Your rock your pelvis against him, your legs wrapping around his body. “Elysium fields with my Elysian…”

“I love you,” he breathes. He thrusts and it hits something tender inside, the aching place deep in the hollow. Your fingers tangle together. Hot inside you. Something molten in your core. You’re melting. Clinging to him. The world shatters, comes back together in little pieces. Tired eyes gazing into your own. Soft smile.

***

You’re still tangled together.

Bodies intertwined. A comforter thrown over you both to ward off the chill of the oncoming autumn night. You’re discussing possible baby names again. You like the idea of something celestial. Named for the sun or the moon or one of the countless stars above. A constellation, an outline of a portrait when they arrange themselves just so. A planet, a galaxy. Infinite possibilities.

“It reminds me of a song,” Elysian murmurs. You’ve been taking turns tickling each other. You were losing horribly but determined to get revenge, making another attack along his unprotected ribs. He remains stoic and unresponsive despite your best efforts.

“What song?”

“Hmmm…” He hums thoughtfully. “In Other Words, I believe it’s called. How does it go?”

Fly me to the moon

And let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On-a Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, darling, kiss me

Your heart lurches. It’s the melody. The one Francis used to hum. The replicant notices your teasing fingers grow still and he stops singing abruptly.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was the song. The one Francis used to hum all the time.”

“Oh, love. I didn’t realize…”

“Of course not. It’s okay. I’m okay.” Your eyes feel a little full, tears brimming.

“I know you still love him. I wouldn’t ask you not to. That wouldn’t be fair.” He drags a thumb across each cheek, close to your lashes, collecting the salted liquid. “He’s always going to be present in some regard. But I can’t resent him. I have to love him a little bit, too. Because he brought me to you.”

“What if I’d called the DDD that day? What if…” More tears escape. You’re suddenly overwhelmed. If you’d contacted the disposal team and destroyed him, this person that has become your world, created a new life with you…This song was what had finally swayed you. Another gift from Francis.

“Sweetheart. You didn’t. You let me into the building. Into your heart. There’s nothing there to be sorry about, from your perspective anyway. If I had to choose again, I would not see you hurt, I would not want to take him from you, but love, how could I ever give you up? I can’t. I could never. You’re carrying our future. You’re my forever.”

His lips graze yours. Your fingers curl around the back of his neck, drawing him more firmly against your mouth. “Sing the rest for me. I want to know all the words.”

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing forever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you

“I love you.”

You’re joined again. Hips and hands and mouths.

Maybe one day in the future you will be brave enough to travel with the alien into space. Explore the wonders of the heavens with your children by your side.

For now, you are content in this bliss on Earth.

[justmeinadaze]

Don't Be So Hard (Steddie X Plus Size You)

"Don't be so hard on yourself The name of the game is humiliation, And thanks for your admiration. I never thought I'd say this: The way that we play has its confrontation, And guilt by association."

A/N: New version of these beings for me to try out. Thank you @bimbobaggins69 for the idea by just being amazing <3.

This take place 10 years after events in season 4 so about 1996.

Warnings: Older Dom (30s) Coach Steve Harrington/Older Dom (30s) Professor Eddie Munson & Young (20s) Fem Plus size Sub Student Y/N (whew! That's a mouth full lol), SMUT, spanking, choking, degrading, voyeurism, use of sir, FLUFF, Eddie and Steve have an established relationship. ANGST (because I'm me), reader is plus size and gets name called by the jocks (they call her names like piggy), one of them does assault her (pushes her and yells at her; brief), Steddie saves the day, mentions of reader staring in a play that makes her anxious due to her body.

This whole dynamic is technically angsty (which is why I love it muahaha).

Word Count: 8679

“I fucking hate schools.”, you grumble under your breath as you hit snooze on your alarm for the fifth time that morning. The beginning of your junior year spring semester at Hawkins University started today but the idea of getting out of bed sounded exhausting. In Hawkins, everyone was in everyone else’s business and being the bigger girl some of the jocks felt the need to butt in more than anyone else. 

“Hey Y/N. Did you put on more weight this summer? Those jeans look like they’re about to pop!”

“Should you be eating that, piggy? Maybe try a salad every now and then.”

You thought when you left high school, you wouldn’t have to deal with this crap anymore but unfortunately some of it followed you to college. 

When you finally made it to your first class it was right before it began so you could avoid any unwanted conversation. You weren’t so lucky.

“Heeeeeeey, Y/N.”, football star Martin Click cooed obnoxiously as he leaned towards you from his seat above yours. “I was hoping we’d have some classes together, piggy. I missed you over the summer. You couldn’t bother to dress up for me?”

“Oh, sorry Martin, if I had known we would be sharing a class I would have made myself uglier but unfortunately for me that’s impossible since I’m so fucking sexy. Maybe you can tutor me on how to be a sloppy asshole.”

The breathy laugh that echoed to your ears caught you off guard as you glanced up towards the front of the classroom and met the chocolate eyes of your new Literature & Writing professor. 

“I’m sorry.”, you whisper as red paints your face.

“No, no. No reason to be sorry. I thought it was a good comeback.”, he grinned making you blush even more. “Mr. Click, should I tell Coach Harrington that you’re more focused on ladies attire than my class or are we going to behave this semester?”

Rolling his eyes, Martin leaned back in his chair making the professor smugly smirk as he winked in your direction. 

“As I’m sure ya’ll are aware, I’m professor Munson and if you’re here because of my reputation then I will kindly ask you to leave. I’m not here to talk about my past or my family history.”

You had heard rumors about Eddie Munson and of course knew all about him being on the run back when you were little. You parents never let you leave the house or play outside for fear that the “satanic Hawkins killer” would snatch you up and make you his next victim. As you grew up and read more about what happened, it seemed less to you like he did anything at all and obviously the chief agreed because Mr. Munson was never tried or did any prison time. 

No, you weren’t interested in his past. You were interested in the things he could teach you. After overhearing one of his lectures, you were fascinated with the way he told a story and explained the material. He got so animated to an adorable degree and as a theater major you thought it would be fun to see how he interpreted literature while getting the final English credit you needed. 

When no one moved he smiled and began talking about usual first day things such as the syllabus and what to expect over the semester. After the class had ended and everyone left, you stayed behind and quietly made your way to his desk. 

“Hey, um, I’m sorry if I was rude or—”

“I didn’t think you were rude. If anything, he was and definitely needed to be put in his place.”, he interrupted without looking your way as he sorted through papers in front of him. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yes, sir. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen some of the plays you were in on campus here. I dragged my friend to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream and you actually got him to pay attention.”, Mr. Munson smiled as he finally lifted his head to look your way. “You were very good.”

“Oh, um, thank you very much. That means a lot coming from you.” He tilts his head at your comment as blush fills your cheeks again. “I just meant I’ve seen some of your lectures before and you’re an amazing storyteller. You excite me, I mean you make me want to pay attention to, I mean… ok, let’s pretend I just left right after class and didn’t just embarrass myself.”

Hugging your books to your chest, you power walk out the door as his chuckle fills your ears. 

***

With a break between periods, you hastily headed for the gym after lunch to change and get out on to the track by the field. Contrary to popular belief, you were fairly athletic despite your size and enjoyed letting off steam as you pumped your legs as fast as they could take you.

As your music blared loudly in your ears, the feeling of eyes watching you grabbed your attention towards the bleachers where Coach Harrington was standing with his arms crossed and leaning to the side as Professor Munson balanced his arm on his shoulder, murmuring something to him as their eyes followed you. 

Trying to block them out, you continued to focus on the path in front of you but was blindsided when a football whizzed past your nose almost hitting you.

“Whoa! Sorry, piggy. Have to keep your eyes open around here.”, Martin laughs as you roll your eyes. 

Glancing their way, you noticed both men were standing straighter as if prepared to defend you if needed. You weren’t a weak little girl and for whatever reason you strongly felt like you needed to show them that. As you pick up the football one of the players lifts his hands running towards you as if expecting you to not be able to throw it but at the last minute you throw a perfect spiral to their coach who doesn’t even hesitate as he lifts his hands and catches it seamlessly from the air. 

“Well, shit, gentlemen. Looks like I have a new passer.”

“Oh, no thank you, Coach Harrington. If I ever played a sport it would be with a team that doesn’t suck.”

Again, Mr. Munson snicked through his teeth as the man he was leaning on flashed you a big grin. 

#############

That night you decided to run after hours, thinking you would be alone but were surprised when you saw Coach Harrington on the track. 

“Shit! Sorry, you scared the hell out of me.”, he nervously chuckled. 

“I’M sorry. I thought no one would be out here.”

“Yeah, normally there aren’t.”, he teased raising an eyebrow at you. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

As he took off continuing to jog, you pushed your headphones on your head and started your run. After a couple of laps with you in your zone, your feet abruptly slipped out from under you as you tumbled forward onto the gravel.

“Whoa!”, Coach Harrington shouted in concern as he ran to your side and kneeled down. “Are you alright?”

“Ow. Yeah, I just…tripped. Fuck that hurt.”

“Let me see.” Without any hesitation, his hand gripped your leg and looked it over. “Oof, you may have a pretty good bruise there but you should be alright.” Rising to his feet, he extended his hand to you to help you up which you eagerly accepted while he gripped you tightly and led you towards the bleachers. “You must have been deep in thought because you passed me a couple of times and didn’t even turn your head.”

“I did? Yeah, I’m sorry. I just have some things on my mind.”

“No, I know what you mean. Eddie—Professor Munson told me what happened in his class. If any of those guys bother you again, please let me know. I’ll make them run laps or even sit them out of a game if I have to. Nothing scares these kids more than not being able to play.”

You knew of Steve Harrington mostly because of his parents. The Harrington’s were prominent members of the community and very well respected. In your high school there had been pictures of him from his days on the basketball and swim team when he was a student. 

After he graduated, other rumors began to circulate about him spending time with the “freaks of Hawkins” but who cares. Not you especially since you had been labeled a freak since elementary. 

“I, um, I hope you didn’t take offense to what I said. Your team doesn’t suck just…some of your players. I mean, not their playing ability just their personalities. FUCK, why can’t I talk today?”

His smile widens as he laughs from his gut making you don your own smile. 

Coach Harrington’s eyes meet yours for a moment before a controlled laugh escapes his lips.

“What, um, what were you listening to so loud that you didn’t hear me yelling for you to slow down?”

Giggling, you gesture towards your Walkman. 

“Just some CD I burned to get me pumped. Right now, it’s playing ‘Master of Puppets’ by Metallica. Have you heard that song?”  

Something dark flashes over his face before he awkwardly nods and gets up leaving you alone on the bleachers as you stare after him. 

***

“Are you fucking kidding me?”, you growl as you push on the girl’s locker room door to find it locked. “What is going on with me this semester?”

Glancing around and seeing no one, you brave the boy’s locker room, finding it open, assuming that in his weird state, maybe, Mr. Harrington forgot to lock up. As quickly as you could you showered and began to change into some comfy clothes. 

The sound of something hitting the wall nearby froze you in fear as you gaze scanned the area. 

No one nearby. It could be the janitor cleaning the coach’s office.

Quietly, you threw your things over your shoulder and tiptoed that way with the intention of ducking under the window of the area so you weren’t seen but the muffled sound of moaning had you pausing again. 

“Mmm…Steve…Steven. Wh-What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me.”

“Your student that you talk about…Y/N…she was listening to that song you played in the upside down. I just…it made me think of us…us finding you.”

“Hey. Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s ok. I’m ok. I’m right here, Steve. You saved me.”

Peeking through the window, you saw their forehead’s pressed together as Eddie gently caressed his cheek with his thumbs. A small sigh left your lips when they began to kiss each other again. With a bit of needy force, Steve turned him around and pulled his back flush to his chest. Gently nibbling on his neck, he reached around and unbuckled Eddie’s pants, pushing them down to free his cock that he promptly began stroking. 

Fuck me he’s big. 

You practically drooled at the sight, licking your lips as your palm absently glided under your shirt to rub your tummy.

With his free hand, Steve sloppily yanked down his sweats making you moan as you watched him spit in his palm and rub it between Eddie’s cheeks before gradually guiding himself into his entrance. 

“Fuck, Steve. That’s it, baby.”

Clinging to each other tightly, Steve thrust his hips at a steady rhythm and you marveled at the sight as your fingers drifted into your own sweatpants and you began circling your clit.

“H-Harder, Steve, please.”

“Please.”, you whisper as you try to keep your eyes open and on them. 

“Like this, honey? Fuck you feel so good, Eddie. I love you.”

Arching his back, your professor craned his neck to kiss the man’s lips as he pumped into him as hard as he could without hurting him. 

“I love you to, baby. Shit, I’m going to cum. Cum with me, Steve.”

Nodding aggressively, he chased their highs until both men grunted and came. While they softly kissed each other your body trembled as you covered your mouth, trying to stifle your moans as the coil snapped. It wasn’t enough as both their heads turned meeting your eyes as you were coming down from cloud 9. 

No one moved as the three of you stared each other. 

Holding up his hands in surrender, Steve pulled out as Eddie straightened up, worry painting both their faces. 

“Y/N…”

Before they could do anything else, you turned and quickly ran out of the locker room.

##############

What the fuck was I thinking?! I shouldn’t have watched them. Two teachers in the MALE locker room while I was touching myself. Shit. I’m going to be expelled for sure. 

Sitting on the stage of your theater class, you focused on the script in front of you as you prepared for an audition your professor recommended. Mrs. Lilah always felt constrained by Hawkins when it came to material but this year she quiet literally said fuck them and decided to do Rocky Horror Picture Show. 

As you read through your lines for Magenta, a clearing throat caught your attention. 

“Hey Eddie!”, your theater teacher beamed as she waved at him and he smiled back before jumping onto the stage to sit beside you. He smelled strongly like cigarettes and a dash of cologne that had your head spinning as you continued to keep your eyes on the paper in front of you. 

“Hey Lilah. I hope I’m not disturbing anything. I just need to talk to Y/N here about an assignment real quick.”

“No problem. She does have her audition for Janet in a few minutes and I’m dying to see her interpretation.”

That caught your attention as your head swiveled her way. 

“I’m doing what now?”

“For Janet, honey. I think you’d be perfect. She’s a bit timid at first but comes out of her shell.”

“But…but…she’s in a bra for a good chunk of the play.”

“Yeah…does that make you uncomfortable?”

“Hm, yeah, Y/N, does people seeing your body in the shadows in an intimate way make you uncomfortable?”, Eddie murmured low enough so only you could hear. 

“Let’s just do the audition and if you prove me right, we can talk about the wardrobe, ok?”

Flashing her a timid smile, you turn to give your attention to your professor. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Skipping my class this morning? Oh, you mean when you watched me and my boyfriend have sex in the boy’s locker room?”

“The girl’s one was locked and I needed to shower—”

“That explains why you were in the locker room but not why you were there watching. Are you going to run and tell all your little friends about how you saw the murderous freak fucking the pretty, rich football coach?”

“What? No. I would never—”

“Mhmm. Look how much will it take to keep your mouth shut?”

“Nothing. I don’t—”

“Please, Y/N! Everyone has a price and Steve doesn’t deserve to lose all he’s worked hard for. So, tell me—”

“Will you let me talk!?” Glancing around to make sure no one heard your outburst; you lower your voice as you continue. “I don’t want anything or any money. I won’t tell anyone. I genuinely don’t care about your private lives. I’m really sorry I watched. I shouldn’t have…I just…”

Your professor’s eyes focused intently on you as he waited for you to continue. 

“I was attracted. The way you two kiss and the way he holds you…no one’s ever been that way with me…” When your eyes dared to finally meet his, you expected anger but those gorgeous chocolate irises displayed a softness you appreciated. “I swear, Mr. Munson, I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

Nodding, he jumped down from the stage before turning to face you again. 

“I think under the circumstances you can call me Eddie. Not in class but… I also think you should play Janet. You’re a very beautiful young lady. Don’t let any of these superficial idiots take away that lead role from you just because of how you look.”

#############

A couple of weeks had passed and nothing of note happened with school or your classes. You were cast as Janet, allowing Eddie’s advice to drive you as you maneuvered the role. Your professor and Coach Harrington had minimal contact with you but you always felt their eyes following you around. 

Tonight, you were studying in the Hawkins diner off campus. You preferred it here then the library after hours because not only could you munch on some delicious food but no one was usually there that you knew. 

As the bell above the door dinged, you glanced up from the novel Eddie had you guys reading to see said professor and his boyfriend entering the establishment and taking a seat. You couldn’t help but wonder how hard being out like this must be for them. They couldn’t share a booth or be flirty. They couldn’t hold hands or kiss, at least not visibly where people could see. You hated that for them since both seemed like good men. You wondered why they stayed behind here in this terrible little conservative town instead of moving anywhere else. 

Hoping to slip out unnoticed and allow them privacy this time, you gathered your things and placed some money on the table. 

“Is that my favorite piggy?”

You roll your eyes at the sound of Martin’s voice as you try to ignore him and head out the door. A hand abruptly grabs you but you slap it away. 

“Don’t touch me.”, you hiss. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s Saturday and we just left an awesome party. Can’t you and I get along for once?!” His friends around the table behind him snickered as a big devilish smile stretched across his face. 

“If you weren’t such a fucking dick maybe. Now leave me alone.”

As you storm out the front door to your car, something tugs your backpack, ripping it open as all your books and papers tumble to floor. Martin’s hand wraps around your throat and pushes you against the trunk of your car. 

“You will show some fucking respect especially in front of my friends.”

“Aw, did little Martin get his feelings hurt?”, you sass. “Didn’t realize you had any.” 

Your knee rises as you hit him in his stomach but he’s still faster as his palm reaches out to grab your shirt tugging you down hard onto the pavement.

Abruptly, someone grabs his own jacket collar and tosses him roughly away from you as Eddie quickly maneuvers around them both, kneeling to your level. 

“Are you ok, sweetheart? Can you stand?” Silently nodding, you take the hand he offers to you and rise to your feet. He notices immediately that your blouse is torn and without hesitation shimmies out of his leather jacket and places it around your shoulders. 

“Mr. Click, on Monday, you will see me in my office.”, Coach Harrington growled as he glared at the boy. 

“Oh, fuck you! That fat little whore pushed me into it!”

“HEY!”, he bellowed making you jump as your teacher rubbed your shoulders comfortingly. “I would advise you to stop speaking. You’re already in a lot of trouble.”

“Pfft, you think I’m scared of you, Steve Harrington?! Yeah, my parents told me all about you and the disappointment you became to Hawkins. You’re fucking pathetic! I’m surprised they even hired you to coach us let alone your friend the freak! I guess those satanic rituals DO fucking work.”

The man’s body language stiffened before he did that controlled chuckle you had heard before. 

“Alright, Martin, we can do this right now then. I was only going to suspend you but you know, since I’m so fucking pathetic I think I’ll just go all in. You’re off my team.”

“WHAT?!”

Turning around, he ignored the boy’s continued expletives as he faced you both. 

“Eddie, get her books and all her things. We’ll take her back to our house, if that’s ok with you.”, he asked pointedly in your direction. All you could do was nod and try to bend down to get your thing but the metalhead stopped you before descending to the concrete to collect your things. 

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! YOU’LL REGRET THIS!”

“Take it up with the dean. Until then on Monday, I want your shit out of my locker room or else I will throw it in the garbage. Come on, guys.”

Coach Harrington opened the back seat door for you, startling you when he closed the door a bit too hard. 

***

When they parked outside of a home, neither moved as Eddie’s eyes scanned over his partner’s face.

“You ok, babe?”

His ringed fingers reached out to caress through his hair and in the rearview mirror you could see Steve close his eyes as he exhaled. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get inside.”, he answered curtly as he came around and opened your door and you followed both men inside. You stood in their living room silently as they threw their keys down and Eddie disappeared down a hallway. 

When he came back, he handed you a t-shirt that read “Def Leopard: Tour of 88!”

“Go put this on and we can see about fixing your own.”

His eyes followed you as you entered their bedroom where the bathroom was located and shut the door. Removing your blouse, you could see a slight bruise forming where the strap of your backpack had been on your shoulder and some redness around your neck where Martin had grabbed you. Swallowing your pain at the sight, you put on the shirt they provided and folded his jacket, placing it nicely on the countertop.

Your eyes took in their fairly average bathroom, smirking slightly at the hair gel you imagined was Steve’s as Eddie’s hair was always wild even during class when he pulled it back. Both their colognes and bathroom products were side by side like any couples but the few things you knew about them had each personality standing out. Cigarettes were by the window near the bathtub where you imagined Eddie smoked as they took a bath together. On the floor by the shower, were some handheld barbells you imagined Steve used while Eddie took a shower or got ready so they could talk to each other about their days. 

Walking back out to their bedroom, you noticed a guitar against the wall and grinned at its slightly cheesy 80s aesthetic. You remembered once hearing that Eddie Munson used to be in a band but for the life of you couldn’t remember the name. You wondered if he still played. 

“Your student that you talk about…Y/N…she was listening to that song you played in the upside down. I just…it made me think of us…us finding you.”

What could he have meant by that…

Your gaze shifted to their dresser that had a vanity mirror attached with pictures taped to it. There were so many images of them together that made your smile widen but there were also photos of Steve with a young lady you remember seeing around Hawkins. She used to work at Family Video until a few years ago but you weren’t sure where she moved on to from there. Did you remember Steve there? No… you were pretty young though and focused on your own carefree life. 

There were pictures of Eddie with the Hellfire club. They were still active when you went to Hawkins High filled with a cool group of kids you hung out with from time to time. There were whispers of the man that created it but everyone in the club always said good things about the former Dungeon Master. 

They must have been in two different worlds in high school. 

What must have happened to bring them together?

“Steven, you need to calm down.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice caught your attention after something loud slammed in the kitchen. You tiptoed down their hallway and paused on the other side of the wall. 

“Fucking asshole kid, I swear to God.”

“Baby, it’s not the first time someone has said those things to us and it won’t be the last especially since we chose to stay here.”

“We didn’t exactly choose and that’s not why I’m upset.”

“Why then?”

“She…she seems like a nice girl.”

“She IS a nice girl.” Eddie sighs as he lowers his voice. “Steven, she’s a student and a lot younger than us.”

“Not a lot. Jesus, you make us sound ancient. She’s, what, how old you were when you graduated high school.”

“Hey, ok first off, rude.” They both giggle making you grin. “Second, again, she’s a student. She’s MY student. I could get in way more trouble than you.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you.”

“I swear, sweetheart, don’t we have enough chaos fucking hiding our relationship?”

“Oh, come on, Ed, you don’t like her?”

“I didn’t say that. I just… yeah, she’s beautiful and adorable and… fuck. We shouldn’t talk about this with her here.”

Collecting your bearings, you walk around the wall and knock on it lightly.

“Hey, there she is. I, uh, I fixed your backpack. Let me, um, see if I can salvage this top for you here.”, Eddie smiles as he takes it from your hands and heads for their couch. 

“I didn’t know you could sew.”

“Mhmm. I can’t like whip up a brand new outfit or anything but I can patch things together.”

“Are you alright? Do you need any Band-Aids or an ice pack?”, Steve asks from his place by the counter. 

“No, I’m ok. My throat is a bit sore but…” You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s turning around and grabbing an ice pack from the freezer, wrapping it in a rag, and sitting in front of you on their coffee table to place it on your neck. “Thank you. I like being choked but not like that or by that asshole.”

They both glance at each other as you blush. 

“Yeah, probably not a joke to make right now. Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.”, Eddie says from behind you. 

“Sorry.” They laugh making you grin to yourself as you look down at your feet. “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble. I’m not…actively…trying to do that.”

“Oh, no worries, honey. Trust me. What is he going to say? ‘Coach Harrington kicked me off the team after I drunkenly assaulted a girl?’ I’m pretty sure the dean will side with me on that one.”

Your silence makes them nervous and they exchange another look. 

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”

“I’m thinking about how I never expected Martin to do what he did. He’s been mean to me since freshman year but never aggressive like that.”

“You know that wasn’t your fault, right, princess?”

“Yeah, I know. I…I…” Unable to control them, the tears began to flow and a ring laced hand delicately reached for your shoulder, moving the things in his lap aside so he could hold you to his chest. Steve placed his own palm on your jeaned thigh and comfortingly rubbed against the material. 

Once again you were engulfed in the scent of Eddie’s cigarettes and cologne as his cheek rested on the top of your head. You couldn’t explain why but you felt safe here with their hands on you encased between them. 

It had been a few months since your last relationship and you could feel yourself dropping into that particular headspace the longer they comforted you. 

“I’m…I’m also thinking…about what I saw that night…in the locker room. How you two took care of each other…”

All movement on your body ceased as they even held their breathes. 

“H-How about we get you home, Y/N? I can give you this shirt after our next class.”

Eddie lightly pushed you to the side as he tried to stand but you hastily grabbed his arm stopping him. 

“I heard you. You said I was beautiful and sweet.”

As your little voice flowed through his ears, his eyes squeezed shut trying to keep control. 

“Y/N, maybe, he’s right. Maybe, we should get you home before—”

“Before what, Steve?” This was the first time you were using his name out loud and the notion sent tingles all through your body feeling like a little girl who misbehaved.

“Hey. You show him respect, little girl. That’s Mr. Harrington or sir.”, Eddie scolded in gruff tone.

“Edward…”

“No, Steven. Little girl wants to play with the grownups, then that’s how we will treat her. Now, we said, you’re going home. Grab your things and head towards the front door.”

“Why did you bring me back here, Mr. Munson? You could have taken me back to my dorm but you didn’t. Why?”

“Because people shouldn’t be seeing a professor drop off a student on campus.”

“But Steve said he was taking me to your house out loud to Martin.”

The man’s hand firmly came down on the side of your thigh making you yelp as you bit your bottom lip. 

“He said show me respect.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington.” Placing your hand on top of his, your thumb tenderly ran along his skin as you leaned against Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Munson. Like I said…no one has ever taken care of me or looked out for me the way you two do with each other.”

You were slightly surprised when his fingers gently came around and brushed your hair away from your face. 

“We brought you back here because we thought you were safer with us here. After what he did, we thought that’s what you needed.”

“Am I not safe here?”, you whisper as you can’t help but rub your thighs together. 

“Y/N… Eddie and I have been through a lot. What you saw in my office isn’t always how we are when we’re intimate. We’re not always…soft.”

“But I promise you, princess, we are nothing like Martin. If you wanted to leave…right now…that’s ok. We can take you home or call you a cab if that makes you more comfortable.”

He was giving you an out; they both were. You could leave right now and the three of you could pretend this never happened. You could pretend that Steve’s large hand on your upper thigh wasn’t turning you on as you thought about how those long fingers would feel inside of you. You could pretend that Eddie’s touch wasn’t getting progressively slower as the pads of his own fingers traced your cheek making your pussy clench around nothing. You could pretend the notion of doing something you shouldn’t and being at the mercy of these two men’s wills didn’t drive you crazy. You could do that… 

Or…

“I don’t mind it not being soft, Mr. Harrington. I trust you and Mr. Munson.” Both men exchanged on final look of caution before your last sentence pushed caution to the wind. “Please, I need you.”

“I think since you saw us in vulnerable position we should get the same courtesy.”, Steve replied in a much huskier tone than before. Taking your hands in his, he pulled you to your feet and pushed the coffee table out of the way before taking the seat you had just been in. On impulse, Eddie leaned closer to him as the other boy wrapped his arm around his shoulder. 

“Go ahead, Y/N.”

As your eyes shifted between their heavy gazes, you lifted off the shirt he gave you, unbuttoned your pants, and shimmied them a bit clumsily down your legs.

You stood there waiting for more instruction as they continued to stare at your body. 

“Did you see our cocks?”

“Yes.”

Steve smirked as his boyfriend began to kiss his neck while his palm traveled along his chest down his stomach.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember that, Y/N. I don’t like repeating myself and Eddie is a lot nicer than I am in here.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered when the metalhead’s palm grazed the bulge in his jeans. 

“Now, if you saw or cocks, then why are you stopping?”

“You said…I should be vulnerable, sir.”

Your small voice had them groaning as Eddie fumbled with the pretty boy’s belt almost desperately. 

“Fuck. Don’t move.” He commanded towards you as his head turned to capture his boyfriend’s lips. Lifting his hips, he helped Eddie blindly pull his jeans down just enough to free his length. As he started to lean over his lap, Steve hastily stopped him with a smile. “You don’t want to see her, honey?”

He chuckled as he focused his attention back on you. 

“Do you feel vulnerable, Y/N?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm. Not enough to not finger yourself out in the open though, huh? I mean at least you had pants on.”

“I-I-I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking—”

“No, you weren’t. Take off the rest so we can see you.”

While doing what he said, you watched as Steve pushed down Eddie’s pants as well and both men kissed passionately in front of you as they stroked each other’s cocks. 

“Y/N, is there anything we should know? Anything we should avoid?”

“No, Mr. Munson.”, you answered, appreciating his soft tone as he asked his series of questions. 

“You said you liked being choked but is there anything physical we shouldn’t do?”, Eddie groaned out as Steve lifted off his shirt.

You heard his question but couldn’t form an answer as your eyes starred at the scars that littered his chest. They looked like whatever wound created them was deep, possibly life threatening. What could have happened to him?

“HEY!”, he barked making you jump. “He said he’s not as nice as me but that doesn’t mean I’m easy going! Now, answer the fucking question, little girl.”

“I’m sorry, sir. N-No, I don’t mind being hit or p-punished. Mr. Munson, what happened?”

As you started to step forward, both sets of brown eyes glared your way freezing you in place.

“Do you know the stop light system?”, Steve growled in a much rougher tone than you were prepared for. Nodding curtly after reciting it to them, he got up and grabbed your arm, sitting you between them. “Now, we do have some rules, Y/N. The first rule is the most important. DON’T ask about our scars.”

“Our?”

Steve slowly lifted off his own shirt and tossed it to the side. He didn’t have as many scars as Eddie but they were just as deep and looked similar. Whatever happened must have happened to both of them. 

“I’m so sorry you both went through…whatever hurt you.”, you coo as you reach out to graze your fingers down Eddie’s chest. 

The darkness in their eyes faltered slightly at your sincerity and the metalhead took your hand in his, tenderly kissing the back of it. 

“Second rule. You have to be vocal, Y/N. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, we need you to say red ok?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Munson. “

“Good. Good girl.”

His praise made you giddy as you blush making him smile.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I have one more question, princess. Have you ever done anything like this before?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yeah, we’re going to need you to clarify that.”, Steve laughs. 

“I’ve done rough stuff with dominate partners before. I’ve never been with two men before.”

The way you said the word men had Eddie’s eyebrow quirking upward. 

“Are you trying to tell us you’ve only been with boys your age?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you feel the need to tell us that?”

“Do we make you nervous?”, Steve asks as his fingers dance up your arm. 

“Yes b-but not because of you two, Mr. Harrington. I just wanted you to know j-just in case I’m not as ‘experienced’ as you both.”

Eddie’s palms cupped your cheeks as he brought your lips to his. You weren’t surprised by the nicotine that lingered there but you were by the tingle that ran through your body as his tongue caressed your own. When he pulled away you tried to lean forward for more but his grip held firm. 

“We weren’t expecting you to be, pretty girl. You’ve only ever been with these little boys but you’re about to be fucked by real men, sweetheart. Trust us, we know how to take care of you.”

You moaned at his promise, turning towards Steve to crash your lips with his. He was a much more determined kisser, his mouth and tongue sending that same shock wave through to your core. 

“Have you ever sucked a cock as big as mine?”, he panted against your lips.

As you shake your head, his fingers grab your throat just below your jaw as if purposely avoiding where Martin had hurt you. 

“What did I say? How do you answer us?”

“I’m sorry. No, sir, I’ve never sucked a dick as big as either of you.”

Sitting back, his palm moved to the back of your neck, guiding you down over his leaking tip as Eddie adjusted your body till you were on all fours for them. 

“Fuck me, Steve. She is so fucking wet. Her pussy is just tripping down her thighs.”

“Aw, you like being a bad girl, don’t you, honey?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Harrington. I like being a bad girl.”

“Open your mouth.” Doing as he directed, you quickly kissed his slit making him mewl before fully taking him between your awaiting lips. “Yes, oh my god. T-That’s a good girl.”

Eddie’s fingers glided through your folds causing your eyes to roll as you bobbed your head.

“Steve, baby, Jesus, she’s so fucking tight.”, the metalhead groaned as his palm came down hard on your ass. 

“Yeah, Y/N? Did that feel good? You like when your professor spanks you?”

Yanking your hair roughly he tugs you off of him as you continue to stroke him with your hand. 

“I didn’t hear that, little girl. What did you say?”

“Y-Yes, sir, I like when Mr. Munson spanks me.” 

At your response he spanks you again right as he guides two of his digits into your core. Gripping you tighter, Steve forces your mouth on him again and holds you still as he thrusts his hips allowing his cock to hit the back of your throat. 

“Good girl. That’s it, Y/N. Keep your throat open for me.”

Abruptly, Eddie swats his boyfriend’s hand and tugs on your shoulder, guiding you down the hallway to their bedroom and tossing you onto their bed. After completely removing the rest of his clothes, he climbs between your legs and runs his wide, flat tongue through your pussy up to your clit. 

“Oh shit.”, you moan as your back arches into the feeling before yelping when his palm smacks your cunt. 

“Watch your mouth, little girl.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckles as he climbs in beside you both placing his knees by your head as his fingers grip your hair again. 

“Can’t really blame her. I know how amazing your tongue feels. Then again, you may have some competition, babe, because her fucking mouth feels so good.”

Pride washes over you at his praise as you grip his cock and take him as far back as you can trying to continue to please him. 

“I-It’s ok, honey. We can train this little throat. As—fuck—as you know, Eddie’s a wonderful teacher.” His boyfriend tosses him a smirk as his tongue flicks faster against your bud. “Are you going to cum? Cum, Y/N. Cum all over his face.”

Your hips grinded against him as the man’s mouth wrapped around your bundle of nerves and he pushed two of his fingers rapidly inside of you as the sound of your arousal to fill the room. 

Steve backed away from you, allowing you to focus and breathe as your orgasm washed over you. As you came down from your high, Eddie lightly slapped between your legs making you jump and groan. 

“Sensitive. I like that.”

Tilting towards their bedside table, he paused as their eyes met. 

“Shit. I don’t have any condoms.”

“What?”, Steve almost wined as you tried to contain your smile at their desperate need for you.

“Steve, we’ve been together for almost 10 years. When was the last time we used a fucking condom?”, Eddie growled. 

“We’ve been talking about adding someone to our dynamic for a while now.”

“Yeah but I wasn’t prepared for it to be tonight with a fucking student!”

“Excuse me.”, you finally pipe up. “I’m on the pill. I can understand if you still don’t want to but…I’m safe. And like I said, I trust you.”

Both men exchange a glance and you can’t help but giggle up at them. 

“So how long were you going to wait before you said anything, huh?”

“Mr. Munson, you didn’t ask. I wanted to be a good girl and only speak when spoken to.”

They narrow their eyes playfully at you for a moment before Eddie grabs your jaw and tilts you till your face is level with his. 

“You’re not cute, little girl. That little snarky attitude may have worked on those pathetic boys you were with but you’re in the bed of real men now. Don’t hide things from us you think we should know. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-Yes, sir. I’m—”

Steve’s hand cuts you off as he pushes you back against the mattress. 

“We know. You’re sorry.”

Taking hold of his shaft, Eddie taps himself against your pussy making you squirm as you open your legs wider for him. Grabbing your hips, he slides you closer and gradually guides himself into your dripping entrance.

“Fuuuuuck.”, he moaned as he slowly pumped his hips. “We are going to fucking ruin you for anyone else, little girl. Goddamn.”

“How does she feel, baby?”, Steve asks as he leaned towards him to lightly kiss his neck.

“S-So fucking tight, sweetheart, you have no idea. I want…”

“What do you want, Ed?”

“I wanna…fuck her into the fucking mattress.”

Your pussy fluttered around him at his words and his eyes that been closed shot open as he placed his palms on either side of you and started thrusting into you aggressively.

“You want that, you little whore. I can give that to you.”

Much softer than his partner, Steve turned your head and slide his cock back into your mouth that you eagerly sucked on relishing the taste of him. As he pounded into you, Eddie’s lips kissed along his boyfriend’s chest making the man groan louder as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

Bringing his lips to his own they passionately exchanged a kiss that had you mewling as the long-haired man rolled his hips hard hitting that soft spot inside you repeatedly. 

Eddie’s head tilted back as his jaw went slack and you couldn’t help but reach your hands up to run your nails down your chest. 

“I’m…I’m…please…”

Steve moved back as the metalhead grabbed your wrists and held them against the bed as his face fell beside your own. 

“You fucking ask me, Y/N. You beg us to let you cum. Shit. We have control in here.”, he whispers in your ear making your shudder underneath him. 

“P-Please, Mr. Munson. Can I cum? I want to cum on your cock, please.”

His hair tickles your face as he nods and the action of him tenderly kissing your cheek pushes you over the edge as the coil snaps. 

“Fuck, that’s it, pretty girl. Came so fucking hard on my dick. I’m going to fill you up, princess, ok?”

“Please…”, you whimper as he slams into you, chasing his high.

Your professor’s grunts filled your ear and you turned your head into the sound as he warmed your insides. As soon as he rolled off you, a hand took hold of your ankle and yanked you to the edge the bed. 

“Hey, hey, honey. No, no.”, Steve cooed with a hint of sarcasm as he lightly slapped your cheek. “Open your eyes, baby. What color are you at, Y/N?”

“Green.”

His massive palm slapped you a bit harder causing your eyes to fully open as you leaned up on your elbows. 

“Green, what?”

“Green, SIR!”

You’re suddenly turned on to your stomach as rough hands lift your ass in the air while another set takes hold of your wrists and pulls your top half down and forward. 

“Get rid of the attitude, Y/N. You think just because you came you’re allowed to be disrespectful?”, Eddie growls as Steve spanks your behind. “Now, answer him clearly without the tone.”

“Green, Mr. Harrington.”

As he ran his tip through your folds, you knew even after taking his partner, he was going to split you in half. 

“Fuck me.”, Steve moaned as he began pushing himself into you. 

Eddie’s head tilted to the side as he watched your face scrunch together. 

“You’re alright, sweetheart. Trust me, I know how hard he can be to take at first but it will feel good soon. I promise, baby.”, he soothed and kissed your lips. 

“F-Feels…feels good…now. Fuck.”

The man behind you smacks your ass at the curse, pressing further into your cunt till his hips finally connected with yours. 

“Still green, babe?”

“Yeeeees, sir.”

“Good.” Clinging to your waist, Steve pulled back till he was almost all the way out of pussy before roughly slamming back into you practically punching the air from your lungs.

“Oh my god!”

With a slanted smile, he pounded into you as Eddie watched from the side, sitting up on his knees to occasionally run his fingers down the man’s chest. 

“She feels really fucking good, right? Our young, new little toy.”

“Goddamn, I’m gonna fucking bust like a teenager.”

“Wait, pretty boy. You need to feel her cum. Her pussy fucking chokes your dick, I swear.”

“Fuck, Y/N, are you close, little girl?” When you didn’t answer, his hand reached around to grab you throat and lift your back to his chest. “Still coherent, you little slut? I asked you a question.”

“H-Harder, Mr. Harrington, please.”

As his forehead landed on your shoulder, he did what you asked till the bed began to jostle underneath you. A jolt of electricity shot through your body and you mewled as Eddie rubbed circles into your clit. 

You took their conversation as approval and your arm circle around Steve’s neck as you came. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!”, he grunted as he took hold of your chin and turned you so his lips could mingle with yours as he pumped into you a few more times before releasing his seed inside you. 

You were completely drained and slightly sore as he tried to delicately pullout of you while you waited for what to do next. Usually, the boys you were with did the minimal amount of aftercare, choosing to just cuddle with you which was fine. You were surprised, however, when Eddie informed you the bath was ready when you were. 

“For me?”

“Yeah, princess, come on. It will soothe your muscles.”, he murmured softly as he took your forearm and slowly walked you to the bathtub and guided you in. Your head remained lowered as you listened to him maneuver around the bathroom, sliding on some boxers before lighting a cigarette and placing himself on his knees beside you. 

Utilizing the washcloth, he cleaned you pausing when your hand suddenly grabbed his wrist as he attempted to clean between your legs. 

“I’m sorry. Just sore.”, you whispered as you let him go. 

Eddie’s eyes scanned you over and you heard him blow out some smoke from his lips as he put the cigarette down in a nearby ashtray. His fingers moved some of your hair back and he pressed his nose into your cheek while he continued to clean you. 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. You’re still doing really good for me. I know your little pussy hurts from how we stretched her open but we got you, pretty girl. You took us both so well.”

As his deep, comforting tone continued to whisper praises, you keened into the sound as you winced, trying not to grab him again.

“I know, I know. I’m almost done.”

Tilting your head, your lips found his, both of you getting lost in the feeling as he dropped the rag from his hand so he could cup your face and hold you closer. A throat clearing distracted you two as Steve entered the bathroom. 

“I, uh, I have some clothes for you here, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Nodding, you allow Eddie to help you out and lead you in front of his partner who took a seat on the edge of the bed. His honey irises ran along your body, checking for extra care you may need that they inflicted but unlike your assault earlier the only mark they left was the slight reddening of their handprints on your behind. 

“How’s your throat? I tried not to grab you where—”

Your kisses startled him at first but after a few seconds his hand slithered tenderly behind your neck as he kissed you back. 

“I’m ok. Just sore…and tired.”, you reiterate as your heavy eye lids dropped. 

“Ok, honey.” Steve’s hands held you steady while Eddie dressed you in what smelled like their clothes as you swayed in his grasp. “You did so good for us. You deserve some sleep. Would you like me to carry you to the guest bedro—”

Both men watched with amusement as your shook your head before climbing over him and crawling under their covers. 

“I guess we can sleep in the—”

“Please don’t leave.”, you begged in a little girl voice that pierced their hearts. 

“Why does she keep interrupting me?”, Steve chuckles as he gets to his feet and yanks Eddie into his arms to kiss his lips. “She doesn’t do that with you. Or does she in class?”

At the word the metalhead became silent as he kissed his partner’s shoulder and crawled into the bed in front of you. His palm softly caressed your face and through your hair as Steve got in bed behind you.

“You’re worried.”

“Of course, I am and not just because she’s a student. That’s just the frosting on top of the cake that is our problem.”

“That sounds delicious.”

“Steven.”, Eddie scolds as they both smile. “She’s so much younger than we are.”

“10 years. Not much.”

“Not to mention the fact, that we are already hiding OUR relationship let alone another with a young, student. She deserves to be taken on dates and to live her life. She deserves to be seen not hidden.”

“So do you, honey.”

“Steve… we decided a long time ago to stay in Hawkins for a reason. We can’t be run out of town by these homophobic small, minded idiots. They’ve just barely started calming down when it comes to me and what happened in 86. And that’s another thing. What if…what if something happens? What if Vecna comes back or any other fucking monster? We can’t drag her into that.”

“Eddie, you’re over thinking again, but I see where you are coming from. Let’s…let’s take it one day at a time, ok? Who knows. She may wake up and decide this is all too much herself. She may not want to be with some…old, broken-down college professors slash coach.”

“Oh my god, baby.”, the long-haired boy chuckles as he throws his arm over his eyes. “You’re not broke down. We just have some wear and tear.”

Your palm reaching out and pulling Eddie closer as you fully folded into Steve silenced them. They relaxed into you as your professor kissed your forehead and your school’s coached nuzzled into your shoulder as they drifted off to sleep with you. 

##############

@corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @nailbatanddungeon

[swan-of-sunrise]

...Is Love, Sweet Love (Part II)

Summary: Eight months later, (Y/N) and her daughter Molly have settled in well at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, with (Y/N) teaching a Classical Literature class and six-year-old Molly taking courses while learning more about her telepathic skills. Charles, having fallen head over heels for the school's new professor, debates whether or not to act upon his feelings.

Pairing: Charles Xavier X F!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Yes, I know, it's slightly unhinged to write a Part II to a one-shot that I published over 2 years ago, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head and here's what I came up with! Again, "What The World Needs Now Is Love" by Jackie DeShannon partially inspired this fic, so you should totally give it a listen if you haven't heard it before :)

…Is Love, Sweet Love May 1980 Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester (Previous Chapter)

Despite living in his family’s mansion for the majority of his life and spending countless hours of his childhood eagerly exploring its sprawling grounds, Charles Xavier hadn’t truly grown to appreciate the tranquility that the estate provided until he’d re-started Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. The sight of young mutants happily playing on the playground and partaking in group sports without feeling the need to hide their differences away brought a smile to Charles’ face, and the cheerful laughter of his students paired with the beautiful spring sunshine inspired him to once again enjoy his lunch outside with a good book…although, it was difficult to deny that he spent far more time listening in on Professor (Y/L/N)’s nearby Classical Literature class than actually reading his novel.

“Can anyone tell me why the characters of King Lear worship the pagan gods and not any form of Christianity?” (Y/N), who was sitting cross-legged on the grass in front of her small class, arched a brow as she surveyed the silent group of teenagers before her. “C’mon, guys, you know this. We went over the background of the play during our last lecture, and I seem to remember some of you even taking notes…” After a moment, a timid hand went up from the red-headed girl in the front and (Y/N) smiled. “Yes, Jean?”

“The play is set in ancient Britain, long before the arrival of Christianity.”

“Very good, Jean!” Jean Grey’s shoulders relaxed and beside her, her friend Jubilee gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Now, why would Shakespeare choose to set this play in this specific time period? Think about the time period in which Shakespeare lived, and what the social and political climate in England was like.” A dark-haired boy towards the back of their group raised his hand. “Go ahead, Remy.”

Remy LeBeau lowered his hand and began fiddling with his deck of playing cards as he spoke in his distinct French-Creole accent. “Well, Professor, that was when there was a lil’ trouble brewin’ ‘tween the Catholics and Protestants over there, right? He prob’ly didn’t wanna ruffle any feathers by puttin’ a popular religion in his plays, so he had his characters worship the gods from ol’ Roman mythology; anybody who’d be offended would’ve been long dead, so Willy did what any guy’d do to keep his head on his shoulders.”

Charles smiled to himself as the class laughed and (Y/N)’s lips curved upwards into a reluctant grin. “A little unorthodoxly put, Remy, but you’re absolutely correct. In the play, Lear states that-” She was cut off when the familiar sound of the school bell rang out and her students started to pack their things away. “Remember, on Monday we’ll begin performing your assigned scenes so be sure to work on memorizing your lines with your groups over the weekend. Have a good rest of your day!”

While they laughed and talked amongst themselves, the students headed back towards the mansion for their next class and with a fond smile on her face, (Y/N) looked away from them and finished packing her binders and books into her messenger bag. The novel in Charles’ hand was all but forgotten in favor of admiring his colleague and friend, who’s effortless beauty almost always succeeded in making him stutter over his words and caused him to blush in a way that he hadn’t since he was a schoolboy; she was dressed casually in a striped button-down blouse tucked into a faded pair of high-waisted jeans and well-worn Birkenstocks, with her (Y/H/C) hair pulled away from her face by a blue headband and her reading glasses dangling around her neck by a colorful beaded chain. Charles took in all of her striking figure, but it was her content smile and the happy gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes that made him release a lovelorn sigh and look down at his lap.

Charles was infatuated with Professor (Y/L/N). Well, it perhaps started out as a simple infatuation, back when she’d first arrived on his doorstep pleading for him to help her daughter; her kindness and caring nature in regards to Molly’s safety and well-being was touching, considering how many parents he’d met who were overly eager to pass their mutant children off to a complete stranger just to be rid of them. After hearing their story, he knew that she couldn’t bear to be separated from her five-year-old and so, he asked that she stay and teach at the school to ensure that they would remain together. That was eight months ago and since then, the infatuation had evolved into a full-blown romantic crush; Charles was captivated by (Y/N)’s capacity for compassion, enchanted by her quick wit and natural beauty, in awe of her progressive idealism in regards to mutant rights and more than appreciative of her boundless consideration in regards to his disability.

Yes, Charles was enamored by his school’s newest professor, but he was also plagued by insecurity. The last woman he was romantically involved with was Agent Moira MacTaggert of the CIA, all the way back in 1962 when he was a dashing young man who’d just earned his doctorate and possessed an egotistical streak wider than the English Channel; nowadays, his ego was tempered and his youthful good looks were beginning to give way to wrinkles and streaks of silver. While a ten-year age gap between two consenting adults was hardly an insurmountable obstacle to a happy relationship, a part of him couldn’t help but think that (Y/N) would be happier with someone younger than him. Both Alex and Hank thought that he was overthinking the situation, and perhaps they were right but whenever he started to consider asking her out, that little voice of doubt whispered on in the back of his mind.

“Hi Charles!”

Looking up, Charles’ face reflexively broke out into a grin when he saw (Y/N) approaching the bench he’d parked his wheelchair beside. “Hello, (Y/N)! Holding your classes outside today, I see?”

“It’s such a beautiful day, so you could hardly blame me for taking full advantage of it.” The professor adjusted the strap of her messenger bag and tilted her head as a teasing smile played across her cherry-red lips. “Enjoying your lunch outside today, I see?”

“Touché, Professor,” Charles chuckled, slipping his bookmark into his novel to mark his place and tucking it into his wheelchair’s saddle pack. “Hank seems to believe that my vitamin D levels are too low, so I decided that eating outside was the quickest way to get our resident worrywart off of my back. Not only did I soak up plenty of sun, I had the added pleasure of listening in on your fantastic lesson on Shakespeare’s King Lear; no offense to the Bard, but it’s refreshing to see an Classical Literature professor teach her students about one of his historical plays instead of one of his romances.”

(Y/N) shrugged nonchalantly, but the way she began to fiddle with her pendant revealed the bashfulness she was attempting to mask. “Well, I remember what it was like being fourteen; you’re around the same age as Romeo and Juliet, yes, but you don’t know a damn thing about love and it’s not easy to understand why they do the things they do.”

“As a former fourteen-year-old, I heartily concur. At that age, I could scarcely understand myself let alone an emotion as complex as love, no matter how beautifully Shakespeare described it,” Charles replied, looking out across the manicured grounds as he recited, “‘My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep-’”

“‘-The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite,’” (Y/N) finished and when their eyes met, Charles’ heart fluttered and he could feel his face beginning to warm; his brows rose in surprise when the professor hastily turned her head to try and hide her besotted smile, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the sight. “I, um, I-I should go and find Molly…”

“She’s at the playground with Alex’s second graders. Speaking of which, I need to speak with Alex about tomorrow’s scheduled book delivery…” Charles awkwardly cleared his throat before giving (Y/N) a tentative smile. “Would you allow me to escort you there?”

(Y/N)’s own smile widened at that. “Of course!”

While Charles wheeled himself along the stone pathway and (Y/N) kept in step with him, they eagerly discussed the school’s ongoing library expansion and all the new books they’d obtained for the students; any progress made at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters filled him with a sense of accomplishment, but expanding his ancestral home’s library was one of his greatest desires and he was thrilled that the children would soon have access to more knowledge than many of the country’s best private schools and universities. (Y/N) was just as excited about the expansion as he was, and he couldn’t help but admire the enthusiasm written across her beautiful features while he listened to her talk about all the lesson plans she’d brainstormed involving their new books.

They reached the playground sooner than Charles would’ve preferred, but his disappointment was set aside by the sight and sound of his school’s youngest students happily entertaining themselves on the elaborate structure; so many of them came from broken homes and were sent away without any second thoughts by families that couldn’t care less about them and while Charles couldn’t change their heartbreaking pasts, he did all in his power to give each and every one of his students a loving home and bright, promising futures. For the first time, I find myself truly understanding the blinding rage that fills Erik in regards to mutant rights, he thought with an inward grimace before glancing over at (Y/N) and smiling as the human woman affectionately watched her mutant daughter play, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve lost my faith in humanity’s innate goodness.

“Hi Mommy!” Molly exclaimed from the top of the structure, a toothy grin stretching across her face as she gave them both an enthusiastic wave. “Hi Professor ‘Zavier!”

“Hi Molly-Bear!” (Y/N) called back while a beaming Charles returned the little girl’s wave with one of his own. He’d always maintained that a good professor shouldn’t have favorites, but no one would blame him if he came out and admitted that Molly (Y/L/N) was – hands down – his favorite student; she was as exuberant and carefree as any human six year old, but her mutant abilities as a psychometric telepath meant that she was more insightful and tended to see the world around her with sage eyes. In truth, Molly reminded him so much of himself when he was a child and knowing first-hand how challenging having telepathic abilities at that age can be, he was grateful that he could help her by teaching her how to control and accept her gifts.

While Charles scanned the playground for Alex, he caught (Y/N) looking over at him and the tender expression on her face nearly took his breath away; she quickly looked away and pretended to adjust the fasteners of her messenger bag, but not before Charles noticed the glimmer of affection in her gorgeous (Y/E/C) eyes. A familiar whistle cut through his racing thoughts and when he glanced over, he spotted Alex leaning against a light pole that bordered the playground; a knowing smirk curved across the younger man’s face, widening as he brought a hand up to his temple and wiggled his fingers to signal for Charles to read his mind.

“I told you so.”

“Alex…”

“(Y/N)’s into you, Charles, and you’re clearly into her. So, what’re you gonna do about it?”

After taking a steadying breath and running an anxious hand through his hair, Charles cleared his suddenly dry throat and hesitantly spoke. “(Y/N)?” The professor looked over at him expectantly and his finger drifted upwards to loosen his shirt’s collar while he clumsily continued. “I, ah…well, I-I was wondering if I…(Y/N), would you and Molly care to join me for dinner sometime? There’s a wonderful Italian restaurant in Salem Center and a little movie theater just down the street from it that I think you’ll enjoy…”

(Y/N) blinked, looking dumbfounded but slightly hopeful as she took a moment to find her voice. “Charles, are you asking me out on a date?”

Charles nodded and offered her the barest of smiles. “Over the past few months, I’ve grown…immensely fond of you; I wake up every morning looking forward to our usual discussions over breakfast, I find myself spending far too much time styling my hair and picking out what to wear in the hopes that you’ll take note and every time you smile at me, my heart skips a beat.” The professor shyly smiled at that and he couldn’t help but lightly chuckle, the weight in his chest already feeling lighter with each confession he uttered. “Yes, just like that.”

“And you…you wouldn’t mind Molly coming along?”

The anxiety that filled (Y/N)’s eyes as she awaited his answer nearly shattered Charles’ heart; based on what little she’d disclosed to him about her past, he knew that she’s struggled with dating as a single mother and he could only imagine how disillusioned with romance she’d become as a result. “Of course not, (Y/N),” He softly replied and in a bold move, he reached forward and took her hand in his. “You two are a team, after all; Molly is your entire world, and I want you to know that I respect that more than anything. It’s also…well, let’s just say that it’s been quite a while since I’ve gone on a date, and I’d…”

“Like to go slow?” (Y/N) gently offered and when Charles wordlessly nodded, she gave him the smallest of smiles before looking over her shoulder and calling out, “Molly? Sweetheart, can you come here for a second, please?” After coming down the slide, Molly skipped over to them and the professor knelt down so that they were eye-level, her hand still holding onto his. “Professor Xavier wanted to know if he could take us out for dinner and a movie. Does that sound all right to you, Molly-Bear?”

The little girl’s head tilted to the side as her (Y/E/C) eyes studied Charles, and he was forced to mask his amused chuckle with a cough when she brought a mitten-clad hand up to her mother’s ear. “Like on a date?” Molly loudly whispered, and (Y/N) pursed her lips to keep from chuckling as she nodded; her daughter lowered her hand to reveal her excited smile and she gave her mother an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Sounds good to me!” Molly looked back at Charles with a conspiratorial giggle. “Mommy likes you, Professor ‘Zavier.”

Charles arched a playful brow as his eyes flicked between the embarrassed elder (Y/L/N) and the beaming younger (Y/L/N). “She does, does she?”

“Mm-hmm, she likes your eyes and your smile and your hair and your-”

“Okay, young lady, that’s enough out of you,” (Y/N) hastily interrupted, tickling her daughter’s neck with both hands and smiling when she shrieked with laughter and scurried back to the playground. Shaking her head in fond exasperation, she stood and glanced back at Charles, who was trying and failing to muffle his laughter. “Well, I guess that settles it. Does six o’clock this Friday work for you?”

He emphatically nodded. “Yes, of course, it’s perfect!” He felt himself begin to blush at his obvious enthusiasm, and it was (Y/N)’s turn to chuckle as he awkwardly cleared his throat and tried again. “…I-I mean, Friday at six o’clock works for me.”

“Good. I guess that Molly and I will see you then.” The professor turned to walk away but took Charles by surprise when she turned back around and bashfully smiled at him. “I’ve…I’ve grown immensely fond of you too, Charles.”

Before he could say or do anything, she’d bent down and pressed a feather-light kiss onto his cheek, an infatuated gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes as she flashed him one last smile and left to meet her daughter on the playground. A broad grin slowly spread across Charles’ face and while he watched her walk away, he leaned an elbow onto his wheelchair’s armrest and rested the side of his head against his palm, releasing a love-struck sigh and barely taking note of the familiar figure that moved to stand beside him.

“See what happens when you actually take my advice?”

Charles straightened his posture and glanced over at Alex, who was wearing the smuggest of smiles on his faces as he stared back at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an impertinent ass, Alex Summers?���

Alex’s smirk widened. “Heard it all my life. So, when’s the big date?”

“This Friday at six o’clock. And since you and Hank have taken such a keen interest in my love life, I’ll be requiring your assistance on Friday.” The younger man quickly sobered and with a grin of his own, Charles chuckled and patted his arm. “There’s a good chap. Now, about tomorrow’s book delivery…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although it was a far cry from the hazy evenings spent at Oxford’s many lively pubs and in the company of the college’s most flirtatious female students, Charles’ date with (Y/N) and Molly was undoubtedly the most enjoyable one he’d ever been on. He’d met the mother and daughter in the mansion’s foyer with two bouquets in his hands – daisies for Molly and vibrant pink roses for (Y/N) – and he happily watched them admire their flowers while simultaneously hiding the fact that he was studying (Y/N)’s figure; the professor was wearing a knee-length yellow dress with long billowing sleeves, a bright pink sash tied around her waist and matching high heels, and her carefully styled hair was pulled back by a pink headband. She was beautiful, far too beautiful to be going out with the likes of him, but his fears of inadequacy were quickly alleviated when she looked over at him and smiled.

Hank and Alex drove the three of them to Salem Center in Charles’ maroon 1959 Jaguar Mark IX, the pair of them opting to stay in town and catch a showing of the newly-released The Empire Strikes Back while they dined at La Mensa. Sensing Molly’s apprehension with being around so many non-mutant strangers, Charles distracted her by playing ‘tic-tac-toe’ and ‘hangman’ with her on her paper place-mat and (Y/N) threw him a grateful look as she asked her daughter about her schoolwork; while they enjoyed their food, (Y/N) entertained them with stories of her students’ antics and after some goading by Molly, she even balanced a spoon on the end of her nose much to her daughter and Charles’ delight. After dinner, they made their way down the street to the small movie theater and while many of its patrons were queued up to watch the latest Star Wars film, the three of them decided on watching the re-release of Disney’s Lady and the Tramp; Molly adored the classic cartoon and while Charles was impartial to the film, he thoroughly enjoyed exchanging enamored glances with (Y/N) over the little girl’s head.

Molly fell asleep on the drive home, cuddling against her mother’s side as she lovingly brushed her fingers through her daughter’s (Y/H/C) hair. In low whispers, (Y/N) assured Charles that Molly had a wonderful time and that she hadn’t seen the little girl so happy since before she’d come into her mutation; although aware that Hank and Alex were clearly eavesdropping from their front seats, Charles quietly asked her if she’d care for a quick nightcap in his study after putting Molly to bed, and he was thrilled when she readily accepted his invitation. When they arrived back at the mansion, (Y/N) carried the still-sleeping Molly inside, but not before giving Charles one last smile as he maneuvered into his outside wheelchair.

“So…” Hank arched a curious brow as he walked beside Charles’ wheelchair and steadied it when they reached the top of the ramp, where Alex was waiting with his motorized indoor wheelchair. “How was it?”

“Charming, but I could’ve done without the rather offensive Asian and Italian stereotypes-”

“Not the movie, Charles, the date,” Alex interrupted and when Charles chuckled in amusement at his friends, he leaned a shoulder against the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest. “C’mon, you finally ask out the woman you’ve been head over heels for and you’re not gonna give your two best friends the four-one-one?”

Shaking his head in faux exasperation, Charles shifted himself into his motorized wheelchair and arranged his legs as he airily answered, “(Y/N), Molly and I ate a truly magnificent meal at La Mensa that we followed up by watching a classic Disney film at the movie theater. What more is there to say?”

Alex heaved a sigh but moved to allow Charles to wheel himself into the mansion. “A little help here, Hank?”

“Oh, he’s having far too much fun messing with us to stop.” The scientist tucked his hands into his jacket pockets while a mischievous smirk played on his lips. “But speaking as the school’s resident genius, I couldn’t help but notice the good professor clearly checking (Y/N) out before we left and blushing when she smiled at him just now.”

A reluctant blush warmed Charles’ cheeks at that. “Don’t you two perverts have morning classes to prepare for?”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, lover boy,” Alex smugly countered, nudging Hank’s arm with his elbow as they walked beside Charles’ wheelchair down the vacant hall to his study. “Well, Beast, there’s no doubt about it: Charles here’s got it bad for our lovely Professor (Y/L/N).”

When they reached his study’s door, Charles nudged it open and wheeled himself inside, but not before giving both men a look of genuine sincerity. “Thank you, for your assistance tonight and for your encouragement; the pair of you can occasionally be a pain in the ass, but tonight couldn’t have happened without you.”

Hank’s smile softened. “You’re welcome, Charles. We’re just happy that we succeeded in making you do something selfish for once.”

“Yeah, you’ve helped us both out so much over the years and it was high-time we returned the favor,” Alex added as he clapped Charles on the shoulder, his earnest expression morphing into a knowing smirk while he continued. “Enjoy your nightcap with (Y/N), and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, lover boy.”

“Oh, and don’t forget protection!”

“Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Chuckling, Alex and Hank left the study and closed the door behind them; after pausing for a moment to take a calming breath, Charles wheeled himself over to the oak cabinet near his cluttered desk and unlocked it, pulling out a glass decanter of scotch and two glasses and setting them down on the coffee table. He bit his lip as his eyes surveyed the messy state of his study, cursing himself for not tidying up earlier, but a part of him knew that (Y/N) wasn’t the type to mind a little clutter; she liked to joke that the best professors had the messiest studies because they spent all their time teaching instead of worrying about how others perceive them. It was the good manners instilled in him from birth that saw him gathering stacks of loose papers, binders and leather-bound books and unceremoniously shoving them behind his desk before lifting himself out of his wheelchair to sit on the couch; with nothing else to distract himself from the anxious anticipation building up within him, Charles plucked the maple-colored queen off the chessboard and nimbly twirled it around his fingers as he waited for (Y/N).

Minutes later, there was a quiet knock on the door of his study and after scrambling to straighten up his chessboard, Charles called out, “Come in!” The door opened and (Y/N) stepped into the room, her gentle smile widening when she spotted him seated on the couch. “How’s Molly?”

“Out like a light.” (Y/N) crossed the room and sat on the couch beside him, her fingers playing with the flowing yellow material of her dress’ skirt as Charles poured their drinks. “She wanted me to tell you that she had a really fun time tonight, and she wanted me to thank you.”

“She’s been working so hard these past few months to complete her schoolwork and training, so if anyone deserves to have a little fun it’s undoubtedly her,” Charles replied, a surge of fondness for his youngest student and her kindheartedness bringing a smile to her face as he turned to (Y/N) and offered her a glass of the amber-colored liquid. “As do you, Professor.”

Accepting the glass, (Y/N) hummed thoughtfully before holding it up and angling it towards him. “In that case…to having fun.”

“To having fun,” Charles repeated, lightly clinking his glass of scotch against hers and taking a sip, his eyes appreciatively roaming along the professor’s figure while she took a sip of the strong liquor. “Do you like it? It’s top shelf scotch whiskey, all the way from Scotland.”

(Y/N) arched a playful brow as she crossed her leg over her knee and angled herself to face him. “Expensive, imported liquor? Are you trying to impress me, Professor?”

“Well, that all depends…” Following his instincts, Charles set his glass down and rested his elbow on the couch’s back cushion, his lips curving into a playful grin. “Is it working?”

Her (Y/E/C) eyes softened and after setting her own glass down, she rested one of her hands on his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Charles, I was impressed by you before the top shelf scotch, before the fancy Italian restaurant, and before I ever laid eyes on this beautiful mansion.” His brow furrowed in confusion but she merely smiled and rubbed small circles along his knuckles with her thumb. “Eight months ago, the letter that I sent you asking for help with Molly was my Hail Mary; I had nowhere to go and no way to protect my daughter from the people who hated her for who she was, so I decided to write to the one person I knew could help her. And when you sent me a letter back – that incredibly kind and empathetic letter – you gave me hope, hope that I hadn’t felt in so long. So, you see? You managed to impress me before we’d even met, Charles Xavier.”

Charles, touched by her sincerity and feeling a little emotional, reached forward with his free hand and carefully cradled her warm cheek in his palm. “Oh, my darling (Y/N)…you’re not the only one who’s had their hope restored; I gave up any hope for romance not long after I lost my legs, choosing to focus my attention on the school and my fellow mutants. Over these past several months, however, you helped me to see that there was still hope.” His thumb traced along her cheekbone as he smiled and slowly began to lean in. “And now, I would very much like to kiss you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

(Y/N)’s smile widened. “I’d like that very much as well, I just…” He could feel her cheek flush beneath his touch, and a look of embarrassment flashed across her face. “God, it’s been so long since I’ve done anything like this. Would it be silly to say that I’ve got butterflies in my stomach?”

“Not at all, darling. Truth be told, I’m a little nervous myself,” Charles murmured, his eyes flicking away from hers to stare at her enticing lips before glancing back up. “The last time I kissed a woman was in 1962, so you’ll have to forgive me if my technique has gotten slightly rusty over the past eighteen years.”

“Well, we won’t know unless we give it a go, will we?” (Y/N) breathed and her (Y/E/C) eyes burned with desire as they both inched closer. “Charles, dear…please kiss me.”

Wanting nothing more than to please the professor, Charles’ eyes fluttered closed as he tentatively brushed his lips against hers. (Y/N) wasted no time in returning the kiss, kissing him softly and sweetly as her hand left his to rest on the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair and eliciting a blissful groan from him; with one hand still cupping her cheek, he rested the other on her waist but soon found himself winding his arm around her in an effort to bring her closer. (Y/N)’s lips were soft and oh so addictive, slowly but firmly caressing against his as her fingers carded through his locks, and Charles surrendered himself over to the woman wrapped in his embrace.

Eventually, they were forced to separate for some much-needed air, the both of them out of breath and almost dizzy from their impromptu make-out session; Charles felt a surge of pride as he took in (Y/N)’s kiss-swollen lips, heaving chest and the dazed smile on her face, and he couldn’t resist leaning forward to lightly rub his nose against hers. When he pulled back, he huffed out a breathless chuckle at the incredulous look that she was giving him. “That’s a rusty technique?”

“Mm-hmm. Dreadful, wasn’t it?”

(Y/N) giggled at his joking question and pretended to consider it. “You know, I think I need another example before I can definitively say.” They both laughed but when Charles moved in for another kiss, a sharp twinge in his lower back caused him to recoil with a hiss of pain. “Charles, are you okay?!”

He mutely nodded, his eyes squeezed shut as he straightened his posture and leaned his back against the plush couch cushions. “I’m fine, it’s just a muscle spasm.”

“Is it…?” (Y/N) trailed off and when Charles finally opened his eyes as the pain began to fade, he could see the worry written across her face. “Is it because of your spinal cord injury?”

“That, and I’m afraid that I’m getting on in years; I’m not as young and spritely as I was in 1962.” Instead of stammering out a string of apologies and getting up to leave as Charles feared she would, the corner of (Y/N)’s lips curved upwards into a lopsided grin that left him slightly confused. “(Y/N)?”

The professor shifted closer to him. “Did you know that Molly’s father was fourteen years older than me?” Charles’ brow rose in surprise and he silently shook his head, watching as she reached over and brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. “You could say that I’ve always had a thing for older men…” Before he could think of something witty to say, (Y/N) swung her leg over his to straddle his lap and rested her hands on either side of his face; Charles couldn’t help but grin and, inspired by her delectable boldness, he placed his hands on her waist to hold her securely to him, his grin widening as her breath hitched. “Go ahead and read my mind if you don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

Shaking his head, Charles rested his head on the back of the couch so that he was staring up at her, softly smiling as one of his hands traveled upwards to cradle her cheek. “I believe you, darling. Would it be too sappy to say that I don’t want this night to end?”

“Not at all, dear,” (Y/N) shook her head before closing the distance between them and captured his lips in another passionate kiss; when they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his and returned his blissful smile with one of her own. “We can make this work, can’t we? Balance the two of us with running the school and raising Molly?”

“I believe that you and I can do just about anything, so long as we’re together,” Charles replied, his thumb and forefinger moving to guide her chin forward and pouring all his emotions into another kiss; there was no place on Earth he’d rather be than in the arms of the lovely Classical Literature professor who’d captured his heart and judging by the way she kissed him back, it was clear that she was thinking something along the same lines.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I had so much fun dipping my toes back into the Fox X-Men Universe (I still have a massive thing for 80's Charles Xavier and his flowing brown hair lol) and I loved that I finally resolved Charles and (Y/N)'s mutual attraction with this cute Part II! I may or may not have a few ideas for a possible Part III, so let me know if you'd be interested in reading more! Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying!

Story Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl @holb32 @f1uveryysblog Marvel Tag List: @brooke0297​​​​ @deadlymistletoe Permanent Tag List:​ @momc95​​​​ @crowleysqueenofhell​​​ @groovy-lady​ @yasmin12312

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil,

I am a college-aged person who has been into writing and other creative based careers/hobbies since I was a child. For a while it was theatre, then journalism, and now I am interested in writing my own fiction stories.

Of course, I still have passion for all of my former endeavors, but a key reason my focus has shifted aside from aging is fear for the future. “Everyone wants to preform, unless you are one in a million you will never get the chance.” or “Journalism is a dying career.” Applying for schools, so few colleges even offered journalism as a major option, which surprised me.

Now that I am looking into writing fiction, I am once again in that same boat. My media studies professor was discussing literature, and he asked the class a very thought provoking question:

“Have any of you guys read a book that came out in the year 2023?”

Nobody raised their hands. Thinking back on books I’ve read within the past few years, I can only remember reading one that came out while I was in high school. Everything else had been older than that.

It made me take a major pause. Are books dying? Have we surpassed the age where it’s possible to create entirely new worlds and scenarios and have other people read them? How do we keep reading alive?

Of course, one man alone cannot hold all the answers, but I’m curious- What is your opinion on this as a well established author?

Thank you for your time!

I think the majority of the books published in 2023 are still in hardcover and that college age students will mostly be waiting for the paperbacks to come out. And that the vast majority of books were published before 2023.

[reiderwriter]

Hii! Could you write a Spencer x fem reader, she's extremely confident & forward and Spencer gets all flustered, shy and overwhelmed at how forward she is with flirting with him and complimenting him (even tho he loves it), thank you:-)

A/N: This was such a cute request, thanks for sending it in! I love shy and oblivious Spencer he's so silly and cute ㅠㅠ

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: pure fluff

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Spencer Reid is a genius. But if he hasn't noticed you've been flirting with his for a week straight, he must be an idiot. Non-BAU!Reader.

Warnings: Alcohol intake. Kissing. Slightly suggestive ending.

Here's my masterlist, requests are open! 🎉

Working with the FBI as a consultant on a case was practically a dream come true for you, but what was even more dreamy was the man you got to work with whilst consulting. You’d arrived bright and early, really eager to help with the case you’d been called in for. On the phone, Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner had asked for your help decoding some documents that the team thought had something to do with the Literature you were teaching as part of your course at a local university.

In all honesty, you were a massive fan of detective novels, an early love for Agatha Christie and the Golden Age of mystery making you entertain an idea in law enforcement before you decided that really wasn’t for you, so you were eager to help out in anyway you could fathom.

“One of our Special Agents, Doctor Reid, has decoded most of it, but he says there are some key areas he may be missing and he wants to pick your brains, to see if you can help him come up with something,” he said, guiding you into a small sideroom.

Having previously heard that Doctor Spencer Reid had achieved no less than three PhDs and three additional Bachelor's Degrees in varying subjects, you weren’t quite sure to expect when walking into the room. You certainly weren’t expecting one of the prettiest men you’d ever seen in your life to be sat reading through a pretty thick tome at an incredible speed.

“Reid, this is Professor Y/L/N, she’s here to help you decode the cypher. Professor, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.” Hotchner introduced you, but as soon as you picked your jaw up off the floor, you instantly stepped forward.

“Please, call me Y/N. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you… Spencer was it?” You smile and stick out your hand. You notice the flush on the man's face and your grin grows even wider as he hesitates to take your hand.

“I’m sorry, I don’t really shake hands, the number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.” He stutters through the words, almost struggling to get them out, but you don’t falter for a second.

“Kiss me then,” you say smirking up at him and you realise that the other agent had since left the room, leaving you alone with the object of your affections. Ignoring your response, but face tinged such a bright shade of red that you knew he was effected by it, he dives into the facts of the case.

“We think that he’s using some kind of cypher based on some books you’ve been researching recently at the University, which means we think he could possibly be a student of yours. I read through your PhD thesis this morning, and there are certain commonalities that suggest you could be the key to solving some of our unknowns.”

“You read my thesis? What did you think of it?” you ask, moving to sit in the chair directly next to him, scooting it a little bit closer than was polite.

“I don’t have a degree in Literature of the Renaissance Period, so I’m not sure how much value my opinion really holds in this scenario,” he looks at you and you’re pleasantly surprised at how genuine he’s being.

“Well, you’ve seen mine, can I see yours?” you allow the cogs in his brain to keep turning for a few seconds then continue. “I’m sure with three PhDs to your name, you’ve probably got a few research papers floating about, right?”

“Oh….” he blushes again, turning his eyes away from you and doing his best not to make eye contact. “I’m sure I could send them to you after we’ve completed this case if you think they would allow you a deeper insight into any of my fields of study.” He coughs a little to hide the way his voice pitched up as he spoke and kept his eyes trained on the book in his hands.

This consulting role was going to be the most fun you’d had in weeks.

–X–

A week later, you found yourself sat at a bar, surrounded by the members of the BAU team celebrating another case closed, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to fully partake in their merryments exactly. You’d assumed, after an entire week of flirting very openly with Reid, that when he’d asked you to the bar that evening to celebrate wrapping up the case, he’d meant just the two of you. Alas, you had discovered over the week that not only was he the most adorable man you’d ever met, he was also the most oblivious. Impressive for a man with an IQ of 187.

You couldn’t complain too much. Your help on the case had meant the rescue of two young girls, two of your students in undergrad courses nonetheless, so you’d at least made a difference. You had nothing against the rest of the team either, having become fast friends with Garcia, and enjoying your twenty minutes of small ltalk in the morning at the coffee station with Prentiss, Morgan and JJ as well. Hell, you even loved Rossi, who gave off the fun Uncle vibe that you found rounded out the team well. But you couldn’t curb your disappointment still, so you distanced yourself from the table a bit and removed yourself to the bar to grab yourself a new drink. You stayed there for a few minutes to nurse it.

“Hello, beautiful,” the man sat at the barstool next to you leered down at you, “you looking for some company in the bottom of that glass tonight?” He winked at you and your skin crawled. It wasn’t just his creepy smile, and the disgusting way he dragged his eyes over your body, it was that he was also very likely older than your own father. Some people were into that, but you certainly weren’t

“Not today, thanks,” you said, hoping that would be enough to get him to leave you in peace, but of course it wasn’t.

“Hot piece of ass like you, you need a real man to take care of you.” He pushed his hand out and for a split second you were convinced he was going to make an attempt to smack your ass. Before he was able to make contact, and, perhaps more importantly, before you could be arrested for aggravated assault, a hand was wrapping around your hip and pulling you away from the man, your back colliding with a firm chest behind you.

“Y/N, Special Agent Hotchner is about to leave and he wanted to thank you for coming to consult for us. The FBI is always really grateful for conscientious citizens like you willing to help us keep the streets safe.” Spencer turned you around and said, emphasising words to make it clear what his job was, speaking loudly enough that you knew the words were only for the creep behind you who’d thought to lay a hand on you.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said as the man downed the rest of his drink and made to leave the bar, obviously embarrassed and threatened by Spencer’s arrival. He made to loosen his grip on you as the man left, but you through your arms around his neck, not letting him leave. If this was your last opportunity to make him realise what you wanted, you absolutely weren’t going to let it get away from you.

“I wanted to thank you for this week as well, Spencer. Hotch said it was you that recommended me for the consulting role.” He blushed and stood there a little awkwardly, but made no move to leave, his hands unmoving from your hips. It reminded you of your middle school prom, in all honesty.

“Oh that’s no big deal. It worked out pretty well in the end, though, right, with your students and everything.” You nodded and thanked him again, but you were still pretty reluctant to see him walk away, back to the table filled with his closest friends and colleagues.

“So, are you looking forward to going back home? I’m sure your boyfriend or husband or whatever will be really glad to see you again.” He mumbled and you felt your heart stop for a second.

“Spencer, I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a husband, or any kind of partner for that matter. I’m sorry if I made you think I do,” you saw his eyes widen in panic a little, and you relaxed a bit yourself as he started to talk again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed that someone as pretty as you couldn’t be single.” He stuttered every single word out, and you didn’t quite register his words for a second.

“You think I’m pretty?” you ask looking up at him and he gapes down at you, realising this conversation is just him shooting himself in the foot over and over again.

“Shit… what I mean is…Y/N you have to know you’re gorgeous, right?” It was your turn to blush then, feeling the sincerity in his words.

“You know, I thought you were asking me out on a date tonight.” You tell him, watching his entire face crumple again in distress.

“But I told you we were going out to celebrate finishing the case!” He spoke in his defence.

“Spencer, what were your exact words?”

“Y/N, do you want to grab a drink tonight? It would be nice to celebrate now that the case is closed and- oh. OH.” The realisation dawned on his face, and you enjoyed the little look of devastation that played out there as his blush deepened.

“It’s fine, Spencer, really. If you’re not interested in me, you’re not interested, I get it.” You sighed, finally moving to let him go, resigned to your fate now.

“Wait, Y/N, that’s not what I meant!” He grabbed you by the hand gently, not quite as close as you were the moment before but still standing notably close. You realised you probably had an audience for this.

“I didn’t realise that you’d want to go on a date with me, you’re so beautiful and smart, I just never thought you’d be interested.” Your brain almost exploded with that, and you had to make a conscious effort to not have your jaw drop to the floor, but apparently the man wasn’t finished. “I just assumed you had a flirty personality, and like, really look at you and then look at me-” you absolutely had to cut him off before he said anything else, so you did.

Crashing your lips up into his was the most sensible thing you’d done since stepping into the bar that evening. He was statuesque at first, unmoving while your lips pressed against him, but he warmed up to it and began kissing you back with equal fervor. You moved the hands that were holding yours to your waist, then moved your own hands up to tangle in his hair, playing with a few curls at the base of his neck.

After a few minutes, you finally pulled away to see a dumbstruck expression on his face.

“Oh. Oh, I see now,” was all he could get out, unable to form more words as he panted into the space between you,

“Yeah? That’s good. I’ve been flirting with you all week, so it’s nice of you to finally notice.” You giggle up at him slowly, and he tightens his grip on your waist.

“What should….what should I do now?” He asked, obviously a little bit unsure of himself, and happy to let you take the lead.

“Well, you can either take me back to your place now, or you could start with asking me out on that date?” He looked like he was seriously weighing up his options for a minute, before he looked you in the eye again.

“Can I do both?”

--X--

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @bluecandycake @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @daddy-dotcom @zaapsite @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @kat453 @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @alyssaxstan @ghostheartbeat @beguiling3lavender @Casss2111 @zatannas-wand @rebloggiest-reblogger @kspencer34

[alivegirldetectiveagency]

The show gives us very little information about edwin’s life. i’m pretty sure all we know is (1) he read detective stories (2) is father would call crystal a bobtail (3) he was presumably bullied (i say presumably because the ritual could have been a first incident but i find that unlikely just cause. the severity of it)

i hope we learn a little more if we get a season 2 because i think edwins childhood would give interesting insight into him (this goes for all the characters actually) but i think we can make a lot of assumptions about what his life was like based off the time period

(disclaimer: i am not an expert by any stretch of the imagination, so i apologize for any inaccuracies)(and for any typos)

this post got kinda long so the rest is under the cut

edwin lived from 1900-1916 which mostly encompasses the edwardian era (1901-1910). for the purposes of this post i will be talking as if it was all edwardian for simplicity and also because the last few years of the victorian era and the first few years after edward vii would have been very similar. i am also operating under the assumption the paynes were upper class because (1) vibes (2) edwin is very formal which would have been emphasized the most in the upper classes (3) he had the time and money to go to boarding school which still wasn’t very accessible (although education was growing in importance)

the importance of childhood was growing in the era and there was a lot more leisure time and entertainment. still, etiquette and manners were very important so there would have had the “seen and not heard” attitude towards children. in upper class families, child rearing would have been done by a nanny and not the mother. the father as head of the house would have been strict and interacted little with the children. so edwin probably saw very little of his parents while growing up even before boarding school. since edwin was a son his father might have taken him out for things like shooting/hunting but that would have been just him and his father (and brothers if he had any). also edwin does Not seem like he would have enjoyed that so i dunno if much bonding would have occurred during those outings. family time in general would be rather brief. He would have had more time spent with siblings his age since younger children would have spent most of their time in the nursery/with the nanny.

i’m going to brush past the school life part because i do not know much about it other than that he would have started at st Hilarions around 13. and that i’m pretty sure corporal punishment was used in boarding schools like it at the time? (not entirely sure on that front it depends on if the school is state sponsored) we can infer from the show that edwin did not have a Great time at school but i don’t know what the specifics would have been like

etiquette was very very important. i don’t think the edwardian era was quite as strict as the victorian era but there was still a LOT of social expectations. including the perfect posture george rexstrew does as edwin. etiquette would also include addressing everyone properly and limited affection. you also wouldn’t really touch anyone! not to get their attention or shake hands in greeting or clapping someone on the back. Self control was everything even in times of excitement or distress. Social classes were very strict although the industrial revolution created the neavue riche so social mobility was not impossible. new rich families often tried to adapt the traditions of the (aristocratic) upper class but integration was slooow. (Middle class families would adopt trends from the upper classes too). while formality was important, language in general was simplifying partially due to mass newspapers. if you’ve ever read Oliver Twist or another Dickens story, the language is very verbose and hard to follow which is par the course for victorian literature but less so for edwardian literature.

speaking of literature and entertainment we know edwin liked detective stories. he reads a max carrados story (which started in 1914) to charles and in edwin’s death flashback you see him with a detective penny/dime novel (in the scene you can read “The Aldine Tip Top Tales, High Hat Harry” and google tells me the rest of the title is “The Base Ball Detective”). Edwin probably also read Sherlock Holmes which was still popular. Growing up he might have Peter Pan/Peter and Wendy (the title changed after its initial publishing in 1904) and The Tale of Peter Rabbit (1902). And more short stories and dime novels (like the Aldine company ones) since they were getting very popular at the time. Entertainments like the Winter Gardens and Pleasure Beach in Blackpool were also growing popularity. but generally outdoor upper class entertainment would have been tennis, hunting, or racing. (fun fact the 1908 summer olympics was in london so edwin might have watched it as a child!) there also would have been a lot of dinner parties but those would have been for the parents to maintain or increase social status and not necessarily include the children.

overall edwin’s childhood probably included a lot of extravagant entertainment. He would not have spent much time with his parent so unless edwin had siblings his early childhood would have probably been lonely. canon does not suggest he really made friends while in school either.

Canon and fanon has touched on how edwin’s social skills took a hit from being in hell for 70 years (which is definitely true). But on top of just escaping hell, edwin is using knowledge/skills from a vastly different social era when he first meets charles. it must have been really jarring the first few years of being friends because charles’s ideas/experiences with friendship were WILDLY different than edwin’s

[artsekey]

I'd been seeing videos on Tiktok and Youtube about how younger Gen Z & Gen Alpha were demonstrating low computer literacy & below benchmark reading & writing skills, but-- like with many things on the internet-- I assumed most of what I read and watched was exaggerated. Hell, even if things were as bad as people were saying, it would be at least ~5 years before I started seeing the problem in higher education.

I was very wrong.

Of the many applications I've read this application season, only %6 percent demonstrated would I would consider a college-level mastery of language & grammar. The students writing these applications have been enrolled in university for at least two years, and have taken all fundamental courses. This means they've had classes dedicated to reading, writing, and literature analysis, and yet!

There are sentences I have to read over and over again to discern intent. Circular arguments that offer no actual substance. Errors in spelling and capitalization that spellcheck should've flagged.

At a glance, it's easy to trace this issue back to two things:

The state of education in the United States is abhorrent. Instructors are not paid enough, so schools-- particularly public schools-- take whatever instructors they can find.

COVID. The two year long gap in education, especially in high school, left many students struggling to keep up.

But I think there's a third culprit-- something I mentioned earlier in this post. A lack of computer literacy.

This subject has been covered extensively by multiple news outlets like the Washington Post and Raconteur, but as someone seeing it firsthand I wanted to add my voice to the rising chorus of concerned educators begging you to pay attention.

As the interface we use to engage with technology becomes more user friendly, the knowledge we need to access our files, photos, programs, & data becomes less and less important. Why do I need to know about directories if I can search my files in Windows (are you searching in Windows? Are you sure? Do you know what that bar you're typing into is part of? Where it's looking)? Maybe you don't have any files on your computer at all-- maybe they're on the cloud through OneDrive, or backed up through Google. Some of you reading this may know exactly where and how your files are stored. Many of you probably don't, and that's okay. For most people, being able to access a file in as short a time as possible is what they prioritize.

The problem is, when you as a consumer are only using a tool, you are intrinsically limited by the functions that tool is advertised to have. Worse yet, when the tool fails or is insufficient for what you need, you have no way of working outside of that tool. You'll need to consult an expert, which is usually expensive.

When you as a consumer understand a tool, your options are limitless. You can break it apart and put it back together in just the way you like, or you can identify what parts of the tool you need and search for more accessible or affordable options that focus more on your specific use-case.

The problem-- and to be clear, I do not blame Gen Z & Gen Alpha for what I'm about to outline-- is that this user-friendly interface has fostered a culture that no longer troubleshoots. If something on the computer doesn't work well, it's the computer's fault. It's UI should be more intuitive, and it it's not operating as expected, it's broken. What I'm seeing more and more of is that if something's broken, students stop there. They believe there's nothing they can do. They don't actively seek out solutions, they don't take to Google, they don't hop on Reddit to ask around; they just... stop. The gap in knowledge between where they stand and where they need to be to begin troubleshooting seems to wide and inaccessible (because the fundamental structure of files/directories is unknown to many) that they don't begin.

This isn't demonstrative of a lack of critical thinking, but without the drive to troubleshoot the number of opportunities to develop those critical thinking skills are greatly diminished. How do you communicate an issue to someone online? How do look for specific information? How do you determine whether that information is specifically helpful to you? If it isn't, what part of it is? This process fosters so many skills that I believe are at least partially linked to the ability to read and write effectively, and for so many of my students it feels like a complete non-starter.

We need basic computer classes back in schools. We need typing classes, we need digital media classes, we need classes that talk about computers outside of learning to code. Students need every opportunity to develop critical thinking skills and the ability to self-reflect & self correct, and in an age of misinformation & portable technology, it's more important now than ever.

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

This makes me incredibly angry.

[ID: Screenshots of a Facebook post from user Advocatus Peregrini, which reads:

I was conversing with a fully-grown adult a few days ago, born and educated in the USA, who let this little gem drop:

"Well, it's like Shakespeare said, "Love conquers all!""

I pointed out that Shakespeare never said that, Virgil did, (Eclogues X) and Chaucer after him (Canterbury Tales.)

She said, "Oh I'm sure Shakespeare said that. In Romeo and Juliet!"

I sighed. I've been in that play several times, in different roles, and even directed it. That text does not occur in it.

But the real grind-my-teeth moment here was that if Romeo and Juliet can be said to have a message, it is most certainly not "Love conquers all," seeing as the lovers die by their own hands with a trail of their friends and relations' corpses in their wake.

Neither this fact, nor the fact that I knew the play, nor my explanation that Virgil and Chaucer used the phrase long before Shakespeare's birth dented her determination that "Love conquers all" came from Shakespeare.

"You don't know ALL the versions!" she protested.

All the versions?

Alternative Bard?

With every instinct screaming at me to let the matter drop, warning me that some horror that will not soon be absent from my nightmares waited around the next corner of this conversation. I pressed on.

It was a decision I was soon to regret.

I asked when she had first read "Romeo and Juliet." She said she had only read it once, when she was in Junior High. In the version she was taught, Romeo and Juliet survive, are reconciled with their parents, and are married in the church with their friends Mercutio and Tybalt arm in arm in the wedding party.

"Help me into some house, Benvolio, or I shall faint."

It turned out that her school had their own "version" of Romeo and Juliet, with an "uplifting" ending. This was printed and distributed by a religious education publisher. And it was the only version of the story that she had ever read. Of course she had HEARD other people say that the story was a tragedy, but she just assumed they were wrong.

And she did not see why MY version of Shakespeare should be considered better than HER Shakespeare, which, after all, had a much more wholesome ending.

I explained, in vain, that "my" version is definitive because Shakespeare actually wrote it (quiet, you Oxfordians. Don't make me stop this car) and the message of the play - that when adult stubbornness meets youthful impulsiveness tragedy ensues - is lost in the ersatz, happy-clappy ending.

She said the ending that had been Frankensteined onto Shakespeare's play by the "Christian Education" publisher was better than the original ending, "if the ending is as sad as you say it is."

At this point, I concluded that this was a person who deserved to go through the rest of her life "...safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive!" I bid her adieu.

After the conversation, I wondered, darkly, if that was to be the fate of Shakespeare, and all other literature if the happy-clappy people get their way - as harmless and "uplifiting" as a cheerleader's chant.

I wondered what these bowdlerizers would do with "Hamlet?" or worse, "Titus Andronicus" or "MacB-" Nothing wholesome, I'm sure. Oh, that's right, what they can't appropriate, they ban. Or burn.

In trying to protect children, we leave them undefended from "...the slings and arrows" that life will no doubt throw their way. Shakespeare raises the issues of tragedy - the fatal flaw, the last turning, the role of fate, as well or better than any author before or since. He is a gentle tutor, much to be preferred over that stern and dangerous teacher, Experientia Inopinatum.

But, as ever, it really isn't about the children. It's about the adults, and their desire to avoid answering difficult questions from agile young minds, who know no fear and swarm like eager flies around questions that have been boggling our best minds for millenia. To answer the questions that literature raises, you have to have thought deeply about them yourself. And that is something that few dare to do.]  end id

[midnightorchids]

Hey babe- I wanted to know how you felt about booknerd!reader x Jason. Because it's been rotting my brain forever now and I need to know what someone as genius as yourself thinks about it. So like- We know Jason is a book girl. He's got huge floor to ceiling shelves in his apartment filled with non-fiction, historical fiction, classics, and maybe a few Si-Fi titles. I feel like he would love Toni Morison, Maya Angelou, Henrik Isben, Margret Atwood, and maybe even Harukai Murakami. He has this beautiful collection of leather bond additions of the Iliad Bruce gave him when he was 16. And when he finally invites you over, he cannot contain his excited smile as you start gushing over his home library. He makes you guys coffee and you spend hours talking about your fav genres, authors, online author drama - and after he's walking back to his apartment after dropping you off, he's smiling down at his phone at the message you sent. 'I had so much fun today! Ur library is so so so cool, was wondering if you would be ok going with me to Chapters next week? Wanted to pick up the new Skyward book' He's kicking his feet and hiding his face in his pillow. So deeply overjoyed that his crush shares in his immense love of literature. After you guys officially get together, he buys you so many fucking books. He fallows your goodreads wishlist religiously and surprises you almost every month with a new addition to your growing collection. He usually collects used paper backs, but for you, he splurges on the hardcover special additions. Of course it's because he loves you but it's also so that, maybe, you'll be more incentivised to move into a different apartment. One with floor-to-ceiling book shelves and a shared bed... just saying.. He branches out into more genres and authors he wouldn't usually read from just so he could talk about your favourite books with you. You do the same - your book collections getting mixed together in the process. Library dates, bookstore dates, used-bookstore dates. Your first couple of dates and realisations of love happened in and around books. You would always leave little messages inside the first page of the books you give him. So that if your every away or he's on a mission and he takes a book with him, he'll have one of your small messages of love as a reminder of something to return home to.

Hi hon!! I’m so sorry for the late response, I’ve been dying with uni and just life in general recently, but I’m back and ready to write again!!

I fully agree with almost everything that you said, like you’ve written it out so well and it’s just so cute! I was literally giggling and kicking my feet at the last one omg.

I shall try to add more stuff!!

Jason’s go to present for his loved ones is annotated copies of his favourite books. He only does this when he feels comfortable with a person because sharing his thoughts feels raw and vulnerable sometimes.

Having a significant other who loves to read and appreciates these types of gifts would make him feel happy and very emotional. It’s not often he gets to share this side of himself with people.

When he gifts his copies to his friends or his partner, he feels like he’s leaving a piece of him with the person, so he only does this when he trusts you.

He leaves detailed little messages on the margins of his books. He draws little smiley faces on the cute parts and angry faces on the parts that made him upset.

In the books for his significant other, Jason leaves little notes around the quotes that remind him of you. He highlights them in a different colour and makes sure his notes look extra tidy.

He sucks at wrapping things, so sometimes you’ll get a very poorly wrapped, tape covered novel. You’ll look at the wrapping and laugh, you’d pinch his cheeks teasingly and tell him he did a good job. He’d turn his face away in embarrassment, which leads to you placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Then, there would be times where he doesn’t have the energy to deal with the horrible wrapping paper. So, you’ll be gifted a plain paper back with a sticky note on the front cover that reads ‘for you,’ in squiggly lines.

It’s honestly sweet and he gets very shy about it.

Also, Jason’s taste in books is very diverse, he reads anything from the classics to romance to gothic horror. He reads anything and everything and because of that, I think that it would be very easy for you to share your thoughts and recommendations with him.

Even if Jason hasn’t read the book, he listens intently with a huge smile on his face. He loves listening to you talk. If he doesn’t know the author or the book, he will try to familiarize himself with what you’re reading and branch into different genres.

There would be lots of reading and bookstore dates. You’d browse through the different aisles with his hand in yours, only letting go when a particular book catches your attention. He watches you in awe as you gush about the different series.

(Side note, my friends and I always go to bookstores and just point out the worst books we’ve read and I think Jason would do that too.)

As you search through the shelves to find your next read, he’ll come to you all excited, rambling about the book in his hand. From the looks of it, it seems like he loves the book. His hands are moving around, he’s smiling and giggling, but if you pay attention, he’s actually just cussing out the author.

This becomes a tradition in your relationship. You both bring up books that you hate instead of the ones that you really enjoy. You’d spend the next hour of your bookstore visit just giggling at the random passages that the author thought were good enough to share with the world.

I think this would also lead to a book club of reading awful books sometimes just for shits and giggles. There would be weeks where you would read amazing, well written stories together, but then there would be times when you guys would pick up something bad just to make fun of it.

Overall, Jason would love having a book nerd significant other because he finally has someone who he can geek out with.

[mondaymelon]

when they first fell in love with you. ♡

(sumeru genshin impact males x gn!reader)

written headcanon style! enjoy ✩

(a/n) might be writing a part two of this with tighnari and some other male genshin characters so please comment which characters you would like to see! thank you for reading ♡

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

cyno ♡

he was never the emotional man, at least not around other people. but to you, he was just the hobby-chasing mahamatra who liked to play card games religiously.

the two of you met a long time ago, years before, during his time at the academia. The two of you had the same biology class. over the course of half a semester and more than a few group projects, you could say the two of you had grown relatively close.

close enough that cyno, being cyno, was comfortable enough to tell always tell you his most terrible jokes.

"hey. why did the biologist break up with the physicist?"

you had stared at him quizzically, not sure if this was a test or an actual question about the work, but replied anyway. "what?"

"they... had no chemistry."

"..."

"do you get it - because like chemistry is a subject of science and biologists study the science of life and we're in science class and-"

he'll never forget the way you laughed that day. the way your serious expression faded into one trying to hold back laughter, and the way your lips curved upwards instantly... he felt his heart skip a beat as you let out a quiet giggle under your breath. he didn't know why or what, but a wave of affection swept over him, almost engulfing him completely before he reeled it back, face tinted red.

"hehe, you're funny, cyno." you had told him, smiling sweetly, still struggling to mute your laughs.

"am i?" cynos crimson eyes were wide as he looked at you with a look of surprise.

"mhm!" you nodded at him, beaming. "oh, are you free after school today? we should meet up to do the homework."

cyno hid his face from you then, face burning and flushed red as he mumbled out a response. "i'm free."

"great!" you slid him a slip of paper, torn off of your biology worksheet. "i figured you should have my number. don't forget to text me, okay?"

"i won't."

and he kept his word.

al haitham ♡

it all happened after the school announced an academia-wide field trip to the desert, quite the far trek in hindsight. you were surprised the school even agreed to it. that aside, the entire school was excited about it, especially to people who had moved from the sandy dunes to the lively rainforest in order to study at the academia.

however, al haitham, your literature class partner, had stayed silent. you glanced at him several times throughout the entire day, but his expression didn't change one bit, nor did he even look from his book.

"al haitham." you called out his name, eyes sparkling curiously. "what are you reading?"

"a comprehensive look at sumeru's last 300 years." his answer was short and quick. you whistled, impressed that he was willingly reading such a text.

"are you going on the field trip?" you questioned, wanting to ask but not wanting to annoy him.

"i see no reason not to." yet another blatant answer. he turned the page absent-mindingly, eyes trailing from sentence to sentence. you decided to let him read, not wanting to bother him more than you already had.

just then, a group of students walked into the room, bustling about loudly and chatting amongst themselves not too quietly at all. if they noticed the two of you, they certainly didn't care. they laughed and shouted some more before taking the tables next to where the two of you sat and continued to squawk about.

you caught al haitham wincing at the noise, mutely noting the fact that he had taken off his headphones. you never realized the ashen-haired man had sensitive hearing, but now a lot more things made sense- especially the fact that haitham never ate lunch, like the other students, in the cafeteria.

hesitantly, you reached up and cupped your hands over al haitham's exposed ears. "is it too loud?" you whispered as quietly as you could, hoping that al haitham wouldn't be bothered by your question.

as you glanced down at his expression, his look of astoundment startled you. his emerald eyes sparkled with a look of tenderness that you would've expected as he gazed up at you, his diamond shaped pupils staring up at you and you only.

then, so subtle you almost missed it, he whispered, face flushed:

"thank you."

kaveh ♡

kaveh was always a friendly person, and that was certainly not an exception when it came to you. after a class, he would always burst into the room and come to walk you to your next one.

it come to a point where you would wait for him to show up after the lecture ended, purposely packing up your things slower as you scanned the door for any signs of the blonde man. and he always showed up.

always.

except, then he didn't. you waited until the students of the next hour began to come in, and then waited more until you were sure you were already late. yet, he still didn't show up. worry began gnawing at your stomach as you fidgeted through all of your classes that day, mind cloudy.

and he wasn't there the day after that, either. you missed his presence, his sunny demeanor, and his blushing reaction whenever you decided to tease him.

after about a week of the constant torture, he showed up again, grinning and raising his hand as if he was expecting a wave after your design class.

and you didn't just give him a wave. you dropped all your things instantly, eyes wide and teary, and leaped onto the man, sending both of you tumbling to the ground as you gave him the tightest hug you could manage.

underneath you, kaveh let out a shout of surprise, trying to get you off of him so he could get up, but he wouldn't budge. and he glanced down at you, confused at what had gotten you so worked up, he spotted glistening tears spilling down your face.

"wh-what's happened?" he questioned with a worried expression as he helped you up, tears still running down from your eyes. "did someone hurt you? who was it??"

"idiot..." you leaned against his figure, burying your face into his chest, not caring if you were to be late or not. "you left without a word...!"

"i-i'm sorry-!" kaveh glanced down at your figure clinging onto him, face flushed as his heart pounded so loud that he was sure you would be able to hear it. "i caught a cold..."

"don't leave me again like that, okay??"

"o-okay."

wanderer ♡

you had known him for a long time now, you would've admitted if you had no other choice but to be truthful. but it was a hopeless thing, since never once did he ever seem to notice you - much less care about you or your wellbeing.

at least he had never outright told you that he disliked your presence. it was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

so it was a surprise when he showed up at your doorstep, clothes and hair drenched from the relentless rain outside. he stared at the ground sheepishly, expression embarrassed as he spoke. "i... i didn't have anywhere else to go."

"oh." you had stood there for quite a bit, mouth rounded and eyes wide before returning to your senses. "you can come inside. i'll get you a towel."

the dark-haired man nodded silently, stepping outside as drops of water fell from the sides of his hat. you halted, whipping around. "leave that on the porch."

"but-"

"it's wet. it's going to be no help when we try to get you dry." seeing scaramouche's face fall, you cleared your throat. "but if you must, you can leave it in the mudroom."

"...alright."

you weren't even sure why he was sitting in your living room, a towel around him and sitting on your couch by the fireside, slowly sipping a hot mug of tea. he didn't seem to be thinking of speaking anytime soon, so you did it in his place.

"did you need something?" you questioned him after taking a long sip from your own mug.

"no, i just..." he shook his head. "can i stay here? just for a little while longer?"

the softness in his voice startled you, but you managed to give him an answer without stuttering either way. "you can stay for however long you want." at your response, you saw the male's eyes light up, along with his face flushing a bit too, an action that was not gone unnoticed.

"...i appreciate it. i want you to know that i really do. thank you."

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