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shypen · 2 months

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ㅤ — ༿ີ۪۪ ͏ ͏ so 𝓰ood for me ⠀⠀𓋜‎ 𝓟SH

𝓼ypnosis . when you hide under mr. park’s desk, you notice his bulge and you can’t resist. ✧‎ ‎ ㅤ 𝓰enre . smut 3k

a.note . SUNGHOON AND READER ARE ONLY 2 YEARS APART IN AGE !! no illegal business going on here. nuh uh!

𝓬ontains . sucking, public sex, punishments, degrading, dirty talk, pet names, unprotected sex ++ MINORS DNI

𝓹airings . young!teacher!sunghoon x f!student!reader

req status . taking rqs!!

reminder . everything here is FICTIONAL, meaning NOTHING HERE IS REAL!! these things never happened. if u dont like my work dont read it pls and ty !

“listen up! we’ll analyze substances today, so—” the students groan, already disinterested by what theyre about to learn. “—open your books to page 17 and memorize as much as you can,” sunghoon goes on, settling into his chair as he scoots it nearer to his desk, right where you’re under. right as you're getting ready to scare him, you spot something.

oh— so thats why he scooted closer to his desk? so he can hide his growing hardness? how smart of you, mr. park.

you can’t say you aren’t getting wet from just seeing his bulge through his pants, and by the looks of it, it’s huge. you can see more of it the more he manspreads. the urge to grab it? high. the chances you’ll actually do it? also high.

literally no teacher likes you; you're considered the troublemaker of the school. you already get into enough trouble, but this? this time it's not even because you want to misbehave anymore; it's because of mr. park himself. goodness, you love the sexiness and frustration in his face when you see him all infuriated and disappointed when he hands you your report card. since he’s the teacher of your last class, you always make sure to be extra naughty. despite all of this, he somehow still shows a slight preference for you over all his other students. he finds it amusing how careless you are, but you don’t know that.

you’re a troublemaker. you always were. today’s no different. you sneaked under his desk with intentions to prank and scare sunghoon, but now your original plans are completely gone. new plan: help mr. park cum.

after all, you’ve always liked him anyway.

you gently tap his lower leg, causing him to flinch and peek down beneath the desk. his cold gaze lands on your eyes, and you spot him eyeing you up and down, almost as if checking you out, but you choose to simply ignore him. “what do you want, y/n,” he eventually speaks, and you watch as he rolls his eyes at you. “you,” you reply nonchalantly. “i can help you, you know?” you add.

he scoffs, tilting his head, and you can feel yourself getting more wet the longer you two maintain eye contact. “and what do you wanna help me with?” he asks, leaning back on his office chair. “don’t act dumb, sir,” you sigh, getting more impatient by the second. you tug on his jeans with pleading eyes. “i’m teaching,” he sternly replies, but he seems unsure of his response, a glint of uncertainty sparkles in his eyes, almost like he wants you to help.

“whatever you say,” you smile as he redirects his attention back onto the class.

now’s your chance.

you yank on his belt, regardless of whether he notices you or not. you gently drop the belt on the floor, hoping your classmates wouldn’t hear. sunghoon looks underneath the desk again. “y/n, i told you—”

“continue teaching, isn’t that your job?” you grumble, avoiding eye contact. you pull down his pants ‘til his boxers reveal themselves to you, and you take them off as well. sunghoon’s addams apple bobs up and down as he gulps, attempting to focus on teaching his class. every single voice is muffled from your point of view, allowing you to focus more on pleasuring sunghoon. as you tug more on his underwear, his cock finally springs out and you bite your lip at the sight. so unbelievably big and veiny, already leaking with precum at the tip. you get on your knees and position your mouth to where his tip is, not wasting any time to engulf his cock into the warmth of your mouth, and you can observe him clenching the pen he had been twirling in his hand just a moment ago between his teeth to prevent himself from making a sound. his hand that was originally resting on his thigh makes its way up to your hair, grabbing on it gently.

you take this opportunity to keep going. you suck lightly as your tongue caresses the head of his tip, licking off the oh so tasty precum that he produced. you tilt your head to work on the base of his cock. you give it a long lick from his balls to the tip. your soft and supple hands wrap around his base, hearing deep pants escape from his mouth as you do so. he clears his throat and looks out the window to seem occupied as the students read their textbooks, head buried deep in their pages. you pause briefly to collect your saliva, silently spitting on his cock to use as a lubricant. your hands that wrapped around his base are now slowly pumping his cock, your spit from earlier making it easier to slide your hands up and down his shaft. his grasp on your hair tightens, and a soft smile appears on your face. you wrap your plump lips around the head of his cock again to start sucking on it, simultaneously moving up and down with your hand. your free hand flies up to grip and play with his balls.

your lips move further down his hard length as your hand that’s jerking his cock speeds up, your hand and mouth feeling his veins. sunghoon eventually gets more impatient, gripping your hair with more force as he pushes your head down on his cock more. “you’re really testing my patience, princess,” he mutters in a hushed voice. the sudden movement and nickname makes you gag, and you feel an uncomfortable wetness pool your panties from underneath. he puts more pressure on your head, pushing you down his length, and you can feel your eyes water, threatening to fall. you’d be lying if you said he didn’t taste good, letting out muffled mmf noises as you suck him. your whimpers send vibrations through sunghoon’s body, and you can tell it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to hide what you two are doing.

salty tears form in your eyes again as he pushes your head down, his tip hitting your throat. “so cockhungry,” he speaks between silent and soft pants. his gentle hands, warm and with visible veins, softly take hold of your hand on his cock, guiding you up and down as you continue to lick and suck on his shaft, teasingly licking his slit located at his tip. you’re able to feel the bumps of his veins running through his cock with each stroke. without sunghoon’s guidance, you work your mouth down his length, his tip reaching the back of your throat. “that’s it,” he mumbles silently, close to sounding like a moan, it makes your kitty clench around nothing. you glance up at him through your eyelashes to spot him biting down on his lower lip, gulping, attempting to swallow any pathetic sounds he’ll potentially make.

he guides you to you bob your head up and down his shaft faster, his patience thinning with each passing second, his eyes flickering to the ticking clock. you jerk your hand up and down his length as you suck on the head of his cock, his taste intoxicating. you’d do anything to swallow his cum right now if you two didn’t have company. you continue to toy with his balls as you suck and lick on his cock. you pause when you hear sunghoon call your name in a whisper. “look at me when i do this. can you do that for me, princess?” he speaks softly. his gentle and sweet tone doesn’t look as convincing now when you notice the corners of his perfect pretty lips lifting into a slight smirk. you swirl your tongue around the slit at his tip before pulling away, your hands still on his cock. you nod as a response to his question as your hands remain playing with his balls.

you hear a faint ‘good girl’ escaping his lips before he pushes your head down, roughly shoving his cock down your throat. he harshly moves your head up and down, making you gag from the pace and pressure. you try your best to maintain eye contact as he uses you for his own pleasure, and you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. “take it, filthy cockslut,” sunghoon sighs between heavy breaths, the degrading making you even wetter. you release a tiny whimper as he continues to use your mouth for his own benefit. you focus on pumping his cock again, the desperation of wanting to cum in your mouth evident in his eyes and tone. you try your best not to choke when he shoves his hot cock all the way in your throat, gazing up at him with watery eyes. despite all of this, you keep sucking on him, so pathetically desperate for more of his taste, and it shows.

he tugs on your hair, causing you to let out a tiny yelp. “so needy for me, hm?” his sultry whispers ring in your ear as you continue to lick and suck on his length, determined to pleasure him as much as he’d like. you rub his shaft more, increasing your pace. naturally, your mouth and hand syncs up, causing both your hand and mouth to speed up against his delicious cock. judging by how his lips part, his grip on your hair tightening, and him squinting his eyes, he’s close. “shoot,” he mumbles under his breath, the hot sounds of you gagging and choking bring him even closer to his climax. you watch as he brings both of his hands down to tangle themselves in your hair, tugging on it slightly.

you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, pumping it faster until he shoots his load into your mouth, and you don’t hesitate to lick and swallow every bit of his cum, and goodness did it taste good. he bites his lip as he watches you drink up every little drop of his cum while attempting to fix his ragged breathing. a trail of his cum goes unnoticed by you considering it landed on your chin. sunghoon helps you, scooping up the liquid with his thumb and making you suck on his finger. once you’ve swallowed everything, sunghoon caresses your cheek with his thumb as he switches his attention back up to the clueless students, still reading their textbooks.

"see you around!" you yell, your voice trailing off as you wave goodbye to your friend. with a smile on your face, you turn and begin making your way back to your dorm. that’s until you feel a hand on your wrist, dragging you away. trying to pry your hand away is no use — they’re so ridiculously strong. “no use resisting,” you hear a low, familiar voice chuckle. you turn your attention to them. “mr. park?”

you gulp as he unlocks the backseat door of his car and shoves you in, positioning himself next to you as he shuts the door. he barely gives you any time to react before lifting your chin up with one finger and slamming his lips on yours. he lets go, tilting his head. “slut,” he mutters under his breath as he presses his lips against yours again with more force than before, causing you to let out a pathetic little moan against his lips. he uses that to his advantage, slipping his tongue in your mouth. he pulls away, panting slightly. “think you could just get away with that little stunt you pulled back there?” he scoffs, leaning back in to devour your lips. his hands travel to your waist to pull your body closer to his. sunghoon leans forward, prompting you to lean back and lay down on his car seats, leaving him on top of you. he moves away to leave a trail of wet and sloppy kisses down your neck. “took my cock so well back there..” he sighs as his hand moves down to play with the waistband of your skirt, slyly sliding them off.

you feel a warm blush spreading across your cheeks as you observe his actions. his hand starts to rub your clothed clit once he fully takes off your skirt. “you’re soaked, slut,” he smirks, grabbing your hands to place them on the zipper of his jeans. you take the hint and hurriedly start to fidget with the zipper, attempting to zip it down. you’re thankfully successful, and you impatiently pull both his pants and underwear down as he helps you, finally freeing his cock. his tip is glistening with his precum dripping down, veins running through his shaft, and goodness the sight is hot. you nearly drool at what you’re seeing, but you keep a straight face. your breathing becomes uneven, and sunghoon notices. he chuckles lowly, slowly positioning his cock near your entrance. you honestly doubt that he’s gonna fit.

his tip reaches your clit teasingly, and you spread your legs more. “p-please—” you choke out breathlessly, not even thinking before you speak. “please what?” he fails to hold back a smile at your desperation. he doesn’t give you a fraction of a second to respond before thrusting his hot cock into you, eliciting a moan from the back of your throat. the way his cock is stretching your walls out makes you bite down on your lip. you can feel every bump of his veins, and it’s so hot. he gives you some time to adjust. it’s a deceivingly nice gesture. he pulls his cock out of you until only the tip is left, then harshly shoves his whole length into you, causing you to let out a pathetic whimper. “so tight.. feels so good..” he murmurs as he begins to deeply thrust in and out of you at a slow pace. he lets out a small moan at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. “sunghoon..” you whine, the sound of his name rolling off your tongue makes sunghoon release a low groan from his mouth.

he speeds his pace up slightly, your breath hitching each time he sloppily thrusts into you. his cock slips in and out of you effortlessly because of how embarrassingly wet you are. his tip reaches your g-spot and a moan escapes your lips. sunghoon slams his lips back on yours with no warning, swallowing all your moans and whimpers as he thrusts into you harsher and harder. he moves away but still keeps his head close, a string of saliva connecting you two before breaking. “mmf— shoot,” he grunts, pulling his cock out before diving back into your tightness, the emptiness followed by the sudden feeling of being filled up is so satisfyingly dizzying. his speed increases, the pleasurable rhythm resulting in you whining in pleasure. he hits your g-spot with every thrust, making your eyes roll back. “you like that.. huff.. huh?” he speaks in between his breathy and heavy pants. “cockslut,” he moans as you moan with him, yours being followed by a whimper. his hips move mercilessly as clapping noises can be heard throughout the car. you cry out his name weakly, stars appearing in your vision as he repeatedly hits your g-spot.

your brows furrow, eyes shutting tightly as he pumps his cock into you rough and hard. his strategy’s simple: sliding his cock out until just the tip’s left before burying it all fully inside you. simple, but feels so satisfying. you can’t help but moan, feeling lost in the pleasure. the sounds of you enjoying yourself clicks something in sunghoon, thrusting deep into you til his cock fully disappears in you. “s-sunghoon—” you gasp, breathing slowly becoming strained. “take it, dirty slut,” he grunts, moving his head down to bury itself into the corner of your neck, leaving wet kisses on it. “say my name again,” he pants, his warm breath fanning on your neck. “sunghoon—” you stammer, lifting your head so sunghoon has more space on your neck. sunghoon licks his lips at the sound of his name escaping your pretty mouth. pants, moans, and skin slapping skin noises can be heard inside the car, your eyes half-lidded from all the pleasure.

“c-close..” you choke out, clenching your walls around him more. without a word, sunghoon pounds his cock into you all the way and the knot in your stomach tightens. “cum with me, okay?” he groans, the power of his movements pushing you forward with each impact. sunghoon’s cock twitches inside of you, both of your breathing patterns becoming uneven. you cry out his name like it’s the only word you know, your kitty clenching tightly around him, milking his length as the knot in your stomach finally snaps. sunghoon’s breathing comes out as tiny gasps before he moans out, spilling his hot cum all inside you, his hips stuttering as he does so. he hurriedly pulls his cock out of you and spreads your legs even more to watch all of the cum flow out of you, the sight making him lick his lips. you watch as he leans in, his perfectly pink tongue sneaking into you. the overstimulation makes you gasp. he laps up all the liquids before pulling away, breathing heavily.

he shifts so you two swap positions, your back now against his torso as you’re on top of him. he starts to kiss your neck as he mumbles against your nape. “you okay?” he tiredly mutters, and you reply with a nod. “‘liked it..” you stutter, and he smiles against the crook of your neck as he leaves behind a trail of sloppy kisses. “so good for me, aren’t you?” sunghoon speaks, voice husky and deep. he grabs your hand and starts to gently rub circles on your palm, a reassuring gesture. you smile and nod again as you calm yourself down from your climax.

𝓉aglist : @engesworld , @woninluv , @hursheys , @quhrtz , @kwanholic

a/n: hii if u enjoyed this or like this please reblog w tags and commentary/feedback ! its not required but it’d help a lot, thank uu for reading lovely !

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slytherinslut0 · 11 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Four-Info:you and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, Dirty Talk, ANGST ANGST ANGST, Kissing, Childhood Trauma, Slight!GunPlay(very slight), More Angst, Sadism, Slight Emotional Manipulation.

Find the rest of the chapters HERE.

Your fingers glided gently across the pages of your open book, tracing the lines of text as if seeking to absorb the knowledge directly into your skin. The ambient hush of the library enveloped you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional murmur of voices in the distance. It was a haven of tranquility, a sanctuary where you could finally turn your thoughts off and allow yourself to get lost within the words of the text.

In this cocoon of silence, you immersed yourself, your eyes traversing the lines on the page with a voracious hunger for understanding. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of old parchment and the subtle aroma of polished wood, creating a sensory symphony that enhanced your focus. But amidst this serenity, an abrupt disruption shattered your concentration. The creak of a chair being pulled out and the faint sound of footsteps approached, heralding an unexpected presence.

Startled, your eyes lifted from the text to find Mattheo seated across from you--his dark, penetrating gaze drilled into yours, his eyes narrowed with a glaring suspicion as he analyzed your features, slowly and cautiously--not daring to speak. The sudden intrusion in such a public setting caught you off guard; a mix of surprise and unease filling your lungs as you blinked, glancing around the room to ensure no attention had been drawn.

It had been two days since the events in the bathroom, two whole days where the conversations were as bland as a piece of raw fucking chicken, and yet, here he was. Without warning. You had no fucking clue what he was doing here, but the look in his eyes told you it wasn't for any particularly pleasant reason.

"When were you planning on informing me about your little friend's new companion, hm?" His voice sliced through the air like a blade, his eyes narrowing with sadism. "I mean...I just happened to stumble upon her leaving my brother's dorm, and I'd highly fucking doubt she was there for a casual browse through his book collection, wouldn't you agree?"

Your eyes widened in shock, nerves flooding through you like an icy tide, freezing your words in your throat. You had been meaning to tell him, but since the two of you had hardly been speaking, it seemingly slipped your mind.

You glanced around the room, as if searching for an escape from the intensity of his gaze, before finally managing to whisper, "Are you fucking serious right now? Why is that any bloody concern of yours?"

"I just find it utterly fascinating," he sneered, his voice dripping with dangerous intent as he leaned over the table, scuffing his chair toward you. "...the intricate web of secrets you weave, Raven...not very Ravenclaw of you, now is it?"

"How is that a secret?" you hissed, your voice laced with both irritation and trepidation. "And why would I care about Emily getting with Tom? I never had any feelings for-"

"Not talking about that," he interrupted, his tone sharp as he cut through your words. "I'm talking about everything, in a far more broad context...all of the willing little lies and deceit...all the ways you've used me, just as much, if not more, than I've used you...you even managed to outwit Tom, which is one hell of an impressive accomplishment all on its own, I'll give you that."

The oxygen in the room vanished, leaving you nearly gasping for breath. "I...outwit Tom?"

"Well, it was only thanks to his blaring review that you landed this mentorship, was it fucking not?..." he scanned your features, his brows pinching in focus. "Every calculated step you've taken, every deceptive move you've made, all orchestrated to extract what you wanted for your bloody career...it truly makes a man wonder..."

His words struck like a cold breeze, sending a chill down your spine as you struggled to process the weight of his insinuations--you were beyond startled by the pace of this conversation, each syllable from his lips landing like a punch to the gut, rendering your mouth mute.

"I..." his words had you reeling, your voice catching in your throat, your confidence shattered by his unsettling revelation. "What the hell are you implying, Mattheo?"

Your throat tightened as you struggled to maintain composure. Swallowing hard, you tried to play it off, squinting at him in an attempt to mask your anxiety. But his penetrating gaze saw through your facades, leaving you defenseless against his piercing scrutiny. Mattheo's movements were deliberate, each shift in his chair calculated to exude an air of intimidation and control. His eyes, sharp and predatory, followed your every reaction as if he were studying his prey before a calculated strike.

"I did some digging on you last night...on your background...what your parents do...since, you know, you clearly had no interest in telling me yourself..." a sinister smile played on his lips, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic satisfaction. His voice lowered to a barely audible murmur, laced with a sense of superiority. "After the night at the lake, after that little spat we had...I just...I just couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to you than met the eye...and boy was I ever fucking right.”

Letting his words sink in, he leaned back in his chair, that sickening grin still plastered across his face. As the realization of his words settled like a heavy stone in your chest, you grew increasingly uncomfortable, acutely aware of the other students nearby. Their presence, though not directly involved, added a layer of unease to the situation.

Leaning across the table, you whispered urgently, "Do you have to do this here?" The words escaped your lips in a hushed plea, your voice strained with the need for privacy and a shred of dignity. "Like at least-"

Mattheo's response was chillingly calm, his grin widening with malicious delight.

"Oh, princess, come on," he purred, his tone a twisted mockery of sweetness. "Why continue to hide the truth? Let them hear what kind of person you really are..."

Your anger surged, the intensity of your emotions making your fingers grip the book tightly as you leaned in closer to him.

"You're a despicable asshole, you know that?" you spat out, your voice edged with pure disdain. "What's your bloody angle here?"

"Never claimed otherwise, did I?" His tone was flat, devoid of any remorse; meeting your words with an infuriating calmness. "Unlike you, I don't pretend to be something I'm not."

Your eyes rolled so forcefully it felt like you were glimpsing the inside of your skull, a groan of frustration clawing at your throat. Of course, he chose this moment--a place where you had to hold back your torrent of emotions, where you couldn't unleash the full force of your anger upon him. He knew exactly what he was bloody doing here, and it was fucking infuriating.

"Enough with the games, Riddle," you snapped, the words escaping through clenched teeth, your patience stretched to its limit. "Stop being a bloody arse and spit it out already."

"Your family history," he said, leaning in so close that your eyes locked in a battle of wills, each glance a dagger threatening to pierce the other's resolve. "It isn't as pristine as one might think...in fact, I'd almost be inclined to say it's the complete fucking opposite."

Your entire body tensed, coiling like a tightly wound spring. There was a pause as you studied his face, trying to decipher exactly what he knew before responding.

"Careful, Mattheo," you retorted, your voice laced with a sharp edge. "Just because you've unearthed a few skeletons doesn't mean you've cleared the whole closet."

"Honestly, Raven, I'm just curious," his grin stretched wider, the atmosphere around him growing denser with an almost palpable tension. "How did you manage to play the part for so long? You certainly had me fooled...even managed to trick the sorting hat into believing your little fucking charade...it's quite impressive, truthfully..."

A knot tightened in the pit of your stomach, every nerve inside you screaming in turmoil. "I...I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Don't even bother," Mattheo's words cut through your feeble denial, and he tilted his head, his intensity thickening the air around you. "I see right fucking through you, now, princess...that innocent act won't work on me anymore..."

His eyes, like burning coals, seared into your skin as if trying to uncover hidden truths. The room seemed to close in around you, amplifying the weight of his accusation.

"Generation after generation of Pureblood fucking Slytherins..." he continued, his voice low and laced with feign exasperation. "And yet, here you are...apparently as Ravenclaw as they come...you've managed to make yourself so damn-near invisible that no one even fucking noticed..."

Your breath hitched, caught in the vice grip of his merciless scrutiny. The truth of his words hung heavily in the air, a damning revelation that sent a shiver down your spine. Your carefully constructed facade, your shield against the world, was crumbling, and Mattheo had managed to find the cracks, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in his piercing gaze.

"I'll admit, I feel rather idiotic for not piecing it together sooner..." he sneered, his tone cutting through the tension like a knife, hands curling into fists atop of the desk. "I guess I was too entranced by your starry-eyed facade to see the cunning Slytherin hiding beneath, even though it was right in front of my face this whole time...your biting sarcasm, your unrelenting ambition, and your overly-eager knack for deceit--classic fucking Slytherin traits, aren't they, Raven?"

Your entire being blazed with a searing heat, a tempest of conflicting emotions threatening to consume you. The urge to throttle him until he fell silent warred with a fierce desire to pull him close and lose yourself in a breathless kiss. How infuriating it was to witness his sharp wit, a talent he wielded effortlessly, yet one he seemed unwilling to apply to his fucking studies.

At your silence, he huffed, glimpsing your lips again. "Not even the stars can change the essence of who you are, princess." He whispered, a hint of mockery in his tone. "Maybe it's about time you were honest with yourself."

Your anger surged like a tidal wave, crashing against the shores of your restraint. In that charged moment, you leaned in closer, as close as you possibly could, your body practically vibrating with intensity. How dare he sit there, smug and superior, acting like he had unraveled the very fabric of your being just because he had dug up a few skeletons from your family's closet?

Sure, your parents weren't paragons of virtue, but their actions don't define you--and that was the very the essence of all this. Every choice you've made, every hardship you've endured, has been a deliberate effort to distance yourself from their toxic legacy. His derisive remarks only fueled the fire, and you practically hurled the words at him, your voice laden with disdain.

"You don't know a single fucking thing about me," you seethed, "all you fucking know is what the inside of my body feels like...don't you dare sit there and act like you've got me all figured out."

Your steps were purposeful as you pushed up and away from the table, leaving him sitting there, his words lingering in the air like a bitter aftertaste. You moved back into the library, the familiar scent of old books surrounding you like a protective barrier, but you knew it wouldn't shield you from the storm that was Mattheo bloody Riddle for long. No, that would be far too fucking easy.

And nothing about your situation with that boy was easy.

As you put your book back on the shelf, you felt his presence behind you, a suffocating weight pressing down on your shoulders as you reluctantly spun back around to face him.

"Why'd you do it, huh?" Mattheo's voice cut through the air like a razor, his narrowed eyes fixed on you as he backed you up against the shelf, his presence overwhelming. "Are you truly that ashamed of who you fucking are?"

"Mattheo," you spat, your fists clenching at your sides, the frustration boiling inside you. "Please, don't push it...if I wanted to tell you about that, I would have..."

"Yeah, you're ashamed," he sneered, dismissing your words with a cynical laugh, confirming his original point. "You're ashamed of where you come from...fuck, I always knew we were alike, but I never knew it'd be this much-"

"What the fuck is this? Some type of elaborate power-play move? Some type of big intimidation act to get me to tell you about my life?..." you snapped, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. "If you wanted to know, why didn't you just ask me? Instead of fucking me every chance you got why didn't you try having a real conversation with me? Try actually opening up to me for once?"

"Even if I did..." he said, dropping his tone into a low whisper. "Would you have told me? You said it yourself that you don't fucking trust me..."

"What do you want to know, Riddle? Huh? You want me to tell you how I grew up in a mansion full of emptiness? How my parents were never around and I was left with my cold, reserved grandmother, who cared more about her fucking butler than me?...or maybe you want to know about how I was raised in a world of expectations, forced to be perfect in every way imaginable, while my parents only bothered to acknowledge my existence when it served their social ambitions..."

You paused, frowning at him, your features a near scowl. "You're sure quick to call me a rich little princess...and sure, maybe you're right, maybe I had all the material things one could ever desire...but it was never enough, could never be enough. Something was always missing, like a void inside me that nothing would ever fucking fill."

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you continued, the weight of your past bearing down on you. "When my grandmother got sick, it was the only time she actually fucking spoke to me. She told me to be different, to break free from the mold that had plagued my family for decades. I was there with her in her final moments, the first and only fucking time she ever said she loved me. And where were my parents? Absent, as always. They didn't even show up until days after her death, showering me with gifts, as if their mere presence could make up for years of neglect..."

In an unrelenting torrent, words cascaded from your lips, each syllable carrying the burden of years' worth of pent-up emotions. Mattheo's unwavering gaze never strayed, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, absorbing every uttered syllable as though he never anticipated such revelations.

"Sure, maybe I was handed whatever I wanted on a silver fucking platter--but I was always alone, and truthfully, that's how I fucking preferred it. I never believed in destiny, Mattheo...the stars never whispered my name, my future...I had to shape my own path, I had to become something of my own...once my grandma passed, I was left with the butler. My parents didn't care about what I did as long as my grades were to their standards. They had no idea I wasn't in Slytherin until my third fucking year..."

You paused, your eyes catching Mattheo's parted lips, a reflection of sheer astonishment. Despite fighting to maintain composure, your voice softened with each breath, your heart pounding in your throat.

"I had to grab my own fate with two hungry hands, pulling and pushing and molding my life into something I could be fucking proud of...and then you came along, with your smart mouth and your fucking effortless charm...and you just...you forced your way right into my bloody heart, tore down my walls like you fucking belonged there." The bitterness in your voice hung in the air, the pain of your past etched into every word, your chest heaving with emotion as Mattheo stood in front of you, speechless. "Yes, I've made mistakes, but they belong entirely to me...and thats precisely what sets us apart, you went through some shit and let it possess you...I chose to fight back."

Trembling fingers betrayed the turmoil within, your entire body quivering in the aftermath of the verbal storm you'd just unleashed upon Mattheo. Only when the deafening silence enveloped you did the weight of your words become palpable.

Unable to endure the silence any longer, you broke eye contact, running a trembling hand through your hair. "I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to trauma dump on you like that, I just-"

"No," he declared, "don't you dare apologize to me...I should be the one apologizing to you."

Mattheo's interruption sliced through the charged air, his voice emerging rasped and strained, as though he had withheld words for years. Swallowing, you met his intense gaze, attempting to decipher the kaleidoscope of emotions swirling within his eyes.

"Don't pity me, Mattheo...I'm well past needing that," you whispered, your figure leaning subtly against the bookshelf, a tangible weariness emanating from your being. "Everything you've ever said was right...two sides of the same coin, the masks, the fact that we're each haunted by our own ghosts. You've always been fucking right. The only misstep was when you claimed you'd be my ruin."

Mattheo arched an eyebrow, bridging the distance between you with a measured step. "And why is that?"

"Because, little did you know, I was already in ruins," you murmured, reaching out to loop your fingers around his belt, pulling him closer. "If anything, you've been my bloody salvation...you did something I wasn't sure I was capable of anymore--you made me feel."

A tangible tension hung in the air as Mattheo's hands gripped your hips with a silent urgency, a fervent plea for your presence.

"As if you're going to fucking say that," he countered, his grip conveying unspoken desires. "As if that's not precisely what you did to me."

"Yeah?" you smirked, your voice a sultry whisper. "And what do I make you feel?"

"Everything, Raven," he cooed, lips grazing sensually over your jawline. "Hate, desire, anger, lust...among other things."

Your breath hitched, suspended in the charged exchange. "Among other--"

Before you could finish, Mattheo cut you off, his lips crashing onto yours in a searing kiss, a palpable surge of desire that eclipsed the need for spoken words. He pressed you against the bookshelf, the wooden solidity of the shelves meeting your back. His hands, with a journey of their own, glided up your sides, their warmth leaving a trail of anticipation. They found their destination on your face, gently cupping it with a possessiveness that made your heart flutter, and you sighed into his mouth, letting your hands rest at his sides.

"Everything about you is so fucking addictive..." Mattheo's confession hung in the air, a declaration punctuated by the heat of his lips tracing a fervent path along your jaw. His hand, a serpentine caress, slithered down your arm, leaving a tingling trail of warmth in its wake. "You are both hellfire and holy water...soft yet strong...and every bloody time I touch you I feel a little less war-torn, like your chaos balances out mine...I just...I have no idea what peace feels like Raven, but I have to imagine it feels a lot like you..."

"Mm...fuck, I've missed you..." a soft sigh escaped your lips as his kisses descended, exploring the landscape of your neck. Your fingers instinctively tightened their grip on his shirt. "Whatever happened to that break you said you wanted..."

"Fuck the break," he growled, desire lacing his voice. His hand ventured boldly behind your head, the other finding a home on your hip, possessive and hungry. "I want you so fucking bad...I want to fuck you right here...right against this fucking shelf...cover your filthy little mouth so no one can hear you fucking moaning for me..."

"Shit..." you mewled, gasping slightly as his hand slid around to grip your ass. "Maybe...if two people can't seem to stay the fuck away from eachother, they aren't meant to be apart, hm?"

"Maybe you're right..." Mattheo purred, nipping at your earlobe as he pressed you back against the shelf. "I've always been a strong man, Raven...but you break me without effort...you are my weakness, the chink in my fucking armour..."

"Your undoing?" you murmured, your fingers tracing over his belt.

He hummed. "Precisely."

"When are you going to open up to me, Mattheo?" You whispered, your voice a fragile murmur as though you were afraid of the answer, slipping your fingers under his belt now, gliding along its path. "Tell me all the bad things you've done...tell me what made you into the weapon you are...you don't need to be afraid...I saw your darkness from the very beginning and I'm still fucking here, aren't I?..."

"Why?" His grip tightened, breath hitching. "Why didn't you run?"

Your lids fluttered, slowly losing yourself in the warmth of his breath against your neck. His scent enveloped you; a familiar, soothing balm to the ache he'd caused with his recent request for a break. The answer formed easily in your heart, though voicing it required vulnerability, more than you'd ever expected to give.

"Because...it was a reflection of mine."

Mattheo's only response was a deep growl that rumbled through the charged space, a primal sound that resonated with desire. Without hesitation, he pulled you back into a hungry kiss, his body pulsating with pent-up energy seeking release. The intensity of the kiss mirrored the raw hunger between you, a magnetic force that defied all notions of any further separation.

As your fingers continued their exploration along his belt, tracing the contours with a teasing caress, you encountered an unexpected sensation--cold, unyielding metal tucked between the leather and his abdomen, its texture rough, and harsh. A chill ran down your spine as confusion slowly crept over you, your eyes fluttering open in slow, tentative blinks, fingers seemingly frozen in place.

Mattheo, lost in the heat of the moment, seemed oblivious to your sudden unease. The kiss deepened, his hunger transferring into the fervency of the embrace. But your focus had shifted, and your trembling fingers tentatively confirmed the nature of the cold object--something metallic, something that should not be there. You gently pulled away from the kiss, your eyes wide with realization, fixated on the metal object now halfway exposed. Dread tightened your chest as your brows pinched, flicking back up to meet his eyes.

"Mattheo," you whispered, the name carrying a weight of urgency, "what is this?"

Mattheo's swallow echoed in the charged silence, his gaze dropping to your hand, his chest still heaving from the passionate kiss. His eyes widened as the weight of your question settled in, a realization dawning on him, as if he had momentarily forgotten about the object concealed within his belt.

"Raven, I-"

He began, but you interrupted, yanking your hand back. "No-what the fuck-"

"Stop," Mattheo commanded, his tone abruptly taking on a harsh edge. With deliberate movements, he pulled up his shirt slightly, revealing more of the mysterious object nestled between his belt. The revelation hung in the air, and Mattheo, eyes now serious, asked a question that carried the weight of the moment: "Do you trust me, Raven?"

Your eyes squinted as a realization crashed over you, the rhythm of your heart shifting into a turbulent drumbeat within your chest. There was absolutely no denying it--that sleek, ominous silhouette spoke volumes. That was a fucking gun.

Frozen in a surreal disbelief, your ability to think, blink, or move was momentarily hijacked. Mattheo's hand surged upward with a suddenness that matched the shock in your eyes, seizing your jaw with a commanding force. His fingers, both firm and urgent, redirected your gaze, forcing you back to the depth of his eyes, which were now darker than the midnight sky.

"Answer me," he demanded, the intensity of his words amplified by the gravity of the situation. "Do you fucking trust me?"

The weight of the question echoed in the charged air. Your mind spun, grappling with the incredulity of the scene unfolding before you. Firearms had been a distant memory, relegated to hunting trips with a Muggle friend back in middle school. Yet, the stark reality of Mattheo possessing a fucking handgun in the heart of Hogwarts shattered any remnants of normalcy, the shockwaves reverberating through your very core.

"I-I-" you stammered.

Mattheo jostled your head in his grip, pulling you closer. "Yes or no question, Raven."

Blinking, you found yourself caught in a tempest of conflicting emotions. The tendrils of trust warred with the unsettling presence of the gun, a contradiction that defied all reason. In the throbbing silence, Mattheo's growl of frustration pierced the air. Relinquishing his grip on your jaw, he seized your wrist, directing it back toward the ominous weapon.

"Take it out," he commanded, his eyes fixed on yours. "Right now, Raven. Take it."

A whimper escaped you, your fingers trembling as they tentatively wrapped around the cold metal. With visible reluctance, you extended it out, pointing the gun down at the floor. Mattheo's grip on your wrist persisted, unyielding, anchoring you in the unsettling reality of the moment.

"I'll ask you one more fucking time," he whispered harshly, the words slicing through the charged air like a razor. His breath, warm against your face, carried an unsettling contrast to the gravity of his demand. "Do you trust me?"

Another desperate whimper slipped past your lips, the nodding of your head an almost frantic plea. "Yes! Please, I trust you. Just take it back-"

Mattheo's reply erupted as a snarl, a guttural growl that echoed with a feral intensity. His features, twisted by a crazed possession, accentuated the mad determination in his eyes as he tightened his grip on your wrist. With an unhinged sense of purpose, he directed it upward, the cold barrel now pressing menacingly against his own temple.

"Pull it," he said stoically, the eerie calmness chilling against the tension. "Pull the trigger."

Your jaw dropped, the brimming tears reflecting the disbelief that swirled in your eyes. "No! What the fu-"

"Do it," he repeated, the calmness persisting. "Go on, baby, pull it."

Sickened and paralyzed by the surreal horror of the moment, you hesitated, the sheer shock of what Mattheo was asking you to do anchoring you in a moment of profound disbelief. Your mind swarmed with recollections of the crazy things you'd done for him before, but this--this was unlike anything you had ever fucking imagined. The weight of the gun in your hand, the gravity of the situation, left your brain reeling as the stark realization of the moment seized hold of your senses.

His frustration, palpable and charged, manifested in another growl. With a menacing determination, he shifted his hand to envelop yours, forcing your finger down, the pressure on the trigger unrelenting.

You heard the click, you felt the click--and yet, nothing happened.

"Fuck..." you choked out, a turbulent blend of relief and confusion seizing your senses in a tumultuous embrace. "What the fuck..."

He blinked, his dark eyes tracing over your lips as he clicked it again. And again. The ensuing silence, pregnant with the surreal gravity of the situation, echoed through the seemingly empty library. Each breath you exhaled became a struggle, the air tinged with the weight of the inexplicable moment, your senses teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

Then, like a tidal wave crashing over you, the realization struck with breathtaking force. "It's enchanted..."

"About fucking time you caught on." Mattheo nodded, his acknowledgement cutting through the charged air with terse confirmation. He released the hold on your hand, pulling the gun away and casually slipping it back under his belt. "This gun only serves one purpose Raven, and it's never to kill, only to protect..."

Your heart leapt. "Protect what?"

"Doesn't matter," he said, a gentle hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your eyes. “You can trust me, Raven…you can always fucking trust me…”

You exhaled, a long, exasperated breath. “I know, Mattheo…”

“Good girl,” he cooed, a smirk playing on his lips as he stoically reached into his back pocket, as if on a quest for something. "Has Nott popped the question yet?"

Your cheeks flushed. "Yes.."

"Good," he replied, his other hand securing your wrist before he withdrew his busy one, placing a handful of Galleons in your outstretched palm. "Go treat yourself to a dress. Something red, something tight."

As he withdrew his hand, he leaned in, placing a hot, wet kiss on your cheek, smirking from ear to ear as he said. "I've got something I have to do tonight, so I can't stay...but I look forward to respectfully ripping off whichever lovely dress you decide on."

"Respectfully?" you quipped, a playful glint in your eyes. "I'll make sure to pick a dress that demands nothing less than the most dignified removal, then."

"Oh, Raven...I can promise you it'll be the furthest thing from dignified." He snickered, wetting his lips as he took a few steps back, slowly beginning to make his retreat. "See you then."

As he spun around, making his exit, your mind followed suit, a whirlwind of emotions from this entire encounter. Only Mattheo Riddle could master the art of rendering you utterly anxious, furious, emotional, aroused, terrified, and, finally, relieved--all within the span of under an hour. You'd never encountered a man who expertly navigated every one of your buttons and boundaries like he did, yet you couldn't deny the potent influence he held over you.

You couldn't deny that as soon as he left, an insatiable longing for his presence consumed you, an undeniable yearning for his return.

—————————

Chapter 25->

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gin-juice-tonic · 2 months

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So, for Starters: Book Of Bill Spoilers warning. Another opinion from me below. (Here's my first opinion I shared, if you havent seen it) This new one is about the lost journal pages again, of course.

Originally, I wanted to make a super big crazy essay about all the reasons I think the journal pages in BOB (The Book of Bill’s given name) are fake, and show off my super-cool totally completely sound deductive reasoning techniques in the process.

Unfortunately, knowing myself I’m not sure I’m actually capable of accomplishing such a feat. You all know how I tend to post things in parts, sometimes out of order, often never finished. However I would like to share something in particular that’s been eating at me that I’ve seen… partially discussed, but only partially. And certainly not the part that I would like to discuss.

It’s about the rats.

You know, the rats.

I saw these rats being talked about since before I was even able to have a look at the book myself.

But before I get further into it all, I would like to start off with a joke:

Why did dead rats, eggnog, a land orca, shrimp colors, It’s a Small World After All, and an Anti-Cipherite Suit cross the road?

Well, that’s easy. To get to the other side.

Of the book, that is.

If you’re anything like me, you probably skipped right to the journal pages upon contact with the book. And if you’re even MORE like me, you were probably left a little confounded by them. Not only did they seem… wrong somehow. But they also felt random. Full of odd choices of subject that didn’t make a lot of sense. Could these pages really have come from journal 3? If so, why do parts of them feel so… completely out of context?

And this is where the rats come in. As I mentioned before, I saw many people discussing them. In particular, they were noting their connection to this passage from earlier in the book:

Many of the related discussions also felt odd to me. Though I lacked the knowledge to be able to articulate why at the time. UNTIL, I read the book for myself from start to finish. That's when I realized something: This is not the only time something from earlier in the book connects back to the journal pages. In fact, it happens many, many times throughout the earlier passages. (Here is a small collection of them for your perusal.)

And then it started clicking into place. The reasons the pages felt like they were so abnormally out of context… is because they WERE lacking context!

Now, before you can finish saying “Gin, you’re an idiot.” I would like you to ponder these three questions:

1) Why, if these pages were taken from Journal 3, should they require context from outside of it to be able to be completely understood?

2) Why is it that this context can be found in what Bill Cipher has been writing in the preceding passages up till now?

3) If you put food in a mogwai’s mouth at midnight EST but drive it over the CST time zone line back to 11PM before it can swallow, will it still transform into a gremlin?

Okay, you caught me, that third one is unrelated. But the first two I believe require further thinking. So let’s delve a little further into the idea. Consider this the real third question:

3) Are we to seriously believe that these, the only pages of J3 still lost to us, just so happen to tie into the new topics from the rest of the Book of Bill over and over like this?

And since you’ve done so well thinking thus far, I’ll ask a fourth question:

4) Are you aware of the concepts of Watsonian and Doyalist analysis?

Assuming you don’t and you won’t google it, I’ll skip to the important part. Watsonian analysis is to analyze a story from within it, as if you yourself were Watson making deductions in a Sherlock Holmes novel.

Now, from a Watsonian point of view, what happens when we try to answer our earlier questions? Why should it be that the Book of Bill provides so many of these points of reference to the journal pages?

One possible line of thought could be that Bill wrote the earlier passages of his book *around* the idea of what was contained in the pages, but I think this doesn’t work for a few reasons. For one thing, the purpose of the book is to get the reader to make a deal, not to take a whole novel to set the stage for a 3 day mini Ford adventure. For another, not all of what I described prior is really fit to be called “context”, is it? The rats, the “Small World” cassette, and the Bill-Suit are one thing, but Eggnog? Shrimp colors? Land Orcas? I certainly wouldn’t define them that way. If anything, they’d be better suited to being called “references”. And unlike the more contextual ideas, there’d be no real need for Bill to sneak mere references to the pages into his grand story. And lastly, there are a great deal of Bill pages that have nothing to do with the content in the journal pages at all.

So what exactly am I trying to say here?

If we do intend to think of the callbacks outlined above as references, the only logical conclusion within the story is that the journal pages themselves are referencing back to the Book of Bill, not the other way around.

But… how? And why? Something Ford has written in the 80’s shouldn't be able to reference something Bill is writing post-weirdmageddon certainly.

That’s because “Ford” isn’t referencing it at all!

And as for why… Well, have you ever noticed when you're writing a story on the fly, things you wrote earlier all come crashing back to you as you try to wrap things up? I believe personally that the journal pages are nothing more than a strange endcap on Bill’s crazy train of thought! And the "references" are just fuel that further the pages creation. Almost as if, to quote someone much more knowledgeable than me on this subject…

In the end, all I've described above (as well as other aspects of the pages I've not mentioned here) leave me with the impression the pages are not real.

As I stated only a bit earlier, the idea that these pages, the only pages of J3 purported to be lost, should be so connected to the rest of the book is beyond coincidence to me. Not to mention that in order to take these pages as total truth, you must give credence to several other passages of Bill's book as well. And I'm not too keen on having to trust him that much.

To all who have read this far, even to those who may have scoffed at the ideas in here or think I've only written up nonsense. Thank you for reading and considering my thoughts.

I am not saying anyone must agree with me on this. I know some people have found the pages to be important and meaningful to them, and I do not wish to give the impression that I think my view is the end all be all correct one, or that I think lesser of those who believe in them. I only want to share my own opinions. And to anyone else who found the pages to feel "off" somehow, possibly validate their feelings too.

#long post #the longest post #book of bill spoilers #the book of bill spoilers #for real this time #rat #rats #(those are warning tags)#gin discusses cartoons #bob investigations #this one can stay in the discussion tag bc i particularly like the way i wrote this one

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libraryofgage · 1 year

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Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Part Three

Part One | Part Two

I got side-lined by the Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins fic for a hot minute (that big boi is at, like, 73k; he hefty), but here's the next part!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

In the port city of Socotra, past the first big plaza and down a few side streets, is a small two-story shop with a sign that reads "C. C. Elixirs and Solutions." The shop is owned by a very nice young witch named Chrissy Cunningham who, currently, is doing her absolute best to not laugh in Eddie's face as he spins his tale of accidentally entering into courtship with a merman.

"Anyway," Eddie says, pacing in front of the counter with his hands splayed and his hair a mess, "I was wondering if you'd have anything that could help me."

Chrissy covers her mouth, swallowing down the bursts of laughter threatening to bubble up her throat. After a moment, she asks, "With what, exactly?"

Eddie turns to look at her, gesturing to the shop as a whole. "C’mon, Chrissy, you gotta have something here for me, right? Like, I don't know, a fucking manual or whatever."

"Of course I don't have a...," Chrissy trails off, frowning slightly as she looks at the storeroom door behind her. She's getting a very familiar feeling. It settles at the top of her spine like a shiver that's just waiting and waiting to happen but never does. Usually, this means something.

"Give me a second," she says, barely hearing Eddie's agreement before she heads into the back.

Her storeroom is a chaotic mess that only makes sense to Chrissy. Precarious stacks of books are randomly scattered across the floor, some of them holding plants or knickknacks on top. A few tables are filled with potion ingredients, magical artifacts that still need cataloging, half-filled notebooks, and dozens of pens. A few bookcases line the walls, and Chrissy wanders over to one of them.

She scans the spines, passing over books about fae marriage customs, common selkie family traditions, and in-depth essays analyzing Phoenix mating dances. Finally, her gaze lands on a thin, unassuming book. Its cover is made of sea-foam green leather, with waves etched into the spine instead of words. When Chrissy pulls it off the shelf, the front cover is blank. She doesn't remember getting this book, but this can happen in magic shops. Sometimes items just appear where they know they'll be needed.

Chrissy flips the book open, landing on the front page and grinning at the dedication that reads, "To all the hapless fools in love with a sea dragon's descendant. Here's to hoping you don't royally fuck it up."

Yeah, that's perfect.

She heads back to the front of the shop, immediately noticing that Eddie has placed trinkets and rocks on the counter. She recognizes a few of her protection charms (made of genuine silver, she'd like to add), some quartz of varying colors, and a ring set with a prismatic shard. Chrissy stares at the items before looking up at Eddie with a raised eyebrow.

"Stevie would love all of these," Eddie says, shrugging with absolutely no remorse or shame as he drops a coin purse onto the counter.

Chrissy sighs and digs a few coins out, ensuring they're all gold and all real by biting them before nodding. "You know, land-based magical items don't actually work on merfolk," she says, pushing the purse back to Eddie as she places the book on the counter as well. "So those protection charms and that prismatic ring won't do anything for him."

"Yeah, but they're pretty. He'll like them," Eddie insists. He then notices the book, and his eyes light up hopefully. "Did you find something?"

"Yep, seems to be exactly what you need," she says, sliding it closer to him and watching as he opens it to a random page.

"A common practice among merfolk is to collect trinkets during their pod's travels. Some trinkets won't be personally interesting to the merperson, but can be later used as courting gifts if they're relevant to the intended mate's interests or likes," Eddie reads, tilting his head slightly with a genuine interest that Chrissy usually only sees when he discusses new songs he's learned during his travels.

"Consider that one on the house. But I expect to meet this merman once you've finished your honeymoon phase," Chrissy says, pulling out a small velvet bag and placing the other items inside.

She gives it to Eddie, smiling once more when he nods, digs into his pockets, and drops another small pouch onto the counter. "Almost forgot. Here's some of that 500 year old ginseng you mentioned before," he says.

Chrissy blinks, staring at the pouch. Before she can say anything (like, for example, demanding to know how Eddie got his hands on so much of such a rare ingredient that only the most qualified of practitioners can even dream about seeing), Eddie has gathered his things and practically run out of the shop with a hurried goodbye thrown over his shoulder.

Excerpt from "The Lovelorn Fool's Guide to Merfolk Courtship"

The most important thing to know about courting merfolk is the levels of courtship, of which there are three. In order, they are:

Gift-giving: merfolk collect various trinkets throughout their life, including items they personally do not find interesting. Upon finding a potential mate, they will go through their collection and gift items they think the potential mate will like. To learn more about trinket collection, refer to Part II.

Harmonizing: unsurprisingly, singing is important to merfolk. In addition to being an enjoyable pastime, singing is another mode of communication. The ability to harmonize with a potential mate is vital, as it proves the two are well-matched. To learn more about song types, refer to Part III.

Pod Introduction: the final stage of merfolk courtship, pod introduction is the most important. Pods are sacred, and introducing a potential mate to the pod is an incredible show of trust and commitment. To learn more about pods and their structure, refer to Part IV.

Of these levels, gift-giving often takes the longest. Some merfolk give hundreds of gifts before moving to harmonizing, and others give one. Be patient and try to return each gift you receive.

While these are the levels of courtship, the actual establishment of mateship (consider this the merfolk equivalent of marriage, only it's far more permanent), involves the gifting of scales.

You can find more on this in Part V.

----

Steve stares longingly at the small window in Eddie's cabin, tracking the clouds and lingering on birds that soar by. He knows he can't be on the deck when they've docked, but scales, he's bored.

Are his guppies bored, too? Do they still play games, or are they too worried about Steve to sweep through the waters? Has Robin lost a few scales from exhaustion and stress? How quickly after hugging him is she going to kill him for being away for so long?

With a sigh, Steve drags his eyes away from the window and looks at his tail. Kelp is still wrapped around the wound, but he knows it's almost healed. He can flick his fins without hurting, and the wound has mostly scabbed over, fresh scales beginning to creep over the cut. Maybe a few more nights, and Steve will be ready to jump back into the ocean and find his pod and guppies again.

But that would mean leaving Eddie behind, and...Steve really doesn't want to do that. Because Eddie is the closest Steve has ever actually come to finding a potential mate.

He starts to sink into the water to submerge his head beneath the surface so his disgruntled and stressed air bubbles can rise from his gills. Before he can fully slide under the surface, though, Steve hears the familiar sound of Eddie's excited, hurried footsteps.

Steve perks up, gripping the edge of the tub as Eddie slams into the door, cursing at the pain as he opens it and stumbles inside. He looks at Steve immediately, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide and a grin tugging at his lips to reveal dimples. He's carrying a small pouch in one hand and a book with a sea-foam green cover in the other.

"Stevie!" he says, kicking the door closed and walking over to the tub, "I got you stuff."

With that, Eddie crouches in front of the tub and holds the pouch out to Steve. He doesn't seem to notice how Steve's gills flutter, air pushing out in an excited, flustered pattern that would have made Robin tease him. Eddie doesn't know that, though, so Steve tries to ignore his gills and takes the pouch.

He opens it carefully, his gaze immediately caught on a ring set with a rainbow-colored stone. Steve's eyes widen, his mind swirling around the pretty color and how well it matches his tail and how it looks to be the perfect size and how it would still glitter even when Steve is deeper than the sun can reach.

He pulls the ring out, turning it over a few times before sliding it onto his left ring finger. He was right; it fits perfectly. It has a strange but ultimately harmless magic attached to it. Steve grins brightly, a small, barely noticeable hum bubbling from his throat as he looks back into the bag.

He pulls out each rock, studies them intently, and approves of their color and shimmer. With a nod, Steve places them carefully in the tub, clustering them on the left side of his tail, the side further from the door, for protection.

Finally, Steve pulls out a few of the protection charms. They're small and made of a material Steve immediately recognizes as something that tarnishes in water. He really likes them, though, and it would be a shame to not use them for something.

"Eddie," he says, looking up to see Eddie staring at him, his excited smile turning dopey.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" he asks, leaning forward and resting his arms on the tub.

Steve leans forward, taking a lock of Eddie's hair and studying it carefully. After a few seconds, he decides it's good enough. "Turn around?" he asks, his gills fluttering again when Eddie does so without question. After taking a second to calm himself, Steve asks, "Can I do your hair?"

Eddie hums, leaning his neck on the rim of the tub, giving Steve full access to his hair, the ends of which are dipping into the water. "Of course, Stevie. Whatcha wanna do?" he asks.

"It's a surprise," Steve tells him, moving some until he's partially sitting on his tail so he can properly face Eddie's hair. He places the pouch on the edge of the tub, letting it precariously balance, before running his fingers through Eddie's hair.

He's done this enough times for Max to know how to fix tangles without pulling. As he works, Steve relaxes, falling into a familiar rhythm, and starts to hum softly. It's a lullaby, one that he doesn't get to sing the guppies to sleep with anymore, but they tolerate it when he's caring for wounds or helping them scrub their tails or braiding their hair.

Steve divides Eddie's hair into sections and starts braiding. Every other inch, Steve takes one of the charms from the pouch and braids it into Eddie's hair. By the time he's done, the braid is decorated with silver charms, standing out nicely against Eddie's brown hair.

"Okay," he says, using a thin piece of kelp to tie off the braid, "It looks good."

Eddie hums, reaching back and carefully running his fingers over the braid. Steve watches, suppressing the urge to grab Eddie's hand. "Did you not like them?" Eddie asks, dropping his hand and turning around. The charms clink against each other, creating a quiet song that makes Steve's heart light and happy.

"I liked them," Steve says, pushing the pouch on the edge of the tub into Eddie's lap. "They tarnish in water, though. And their magic felt too strange. They look better on you."

"So, you gave me a gift?" Eddie asks, his smile hopeful and his eyes bright. Steve can't help returning the smile with a nod. In response, Eddie leans forward even further, like he's acting on impulse more than anything else, and presses his lips to Steve's cheek.

Steve's eyes widen, his gills burst, and his ear fins flare in response. To the untrained (human) eye, his reaction is similar to a cat puffing and bristling when faced with a threat. To the trained eye (Robin. And other merfolk, but mostly Robin), Steve's reaction is entirely common for especially flustered merfolk.

It's never happened to Steve before, and that just makes him feel more flustered. He doesn't want Eddie to see his flared fins, so he does the first thing he thinks of; Steve pushes forward and wraps his arms around Eddie's shoulders, hugging him tightly so he can't pull away. "Thanks," he mumbles, "for the gifts, I mean."

He hears Eddie laugh and feels Eddie's hands slide across his side and to his back to return the hug. "Of course, Stevie," Eddie replies, his breath warm against Steve's gills and sending a subtle shiver down Steve's spine. "I'm glad you like them."

Steve is gone. He can't imagine being away from Eddie. He can already see Eddie and the guppies meeting, and he can see Robin fucking with Eddie just to see how he reacts. Steve can see Eddie in the water with him, grinning as his hair floats around them. Steve can see Eddie and him lying together on a beach, warm on the sand and basking in the sun.

Most of all, Steve can imagine giving Eddie a necklace or bracelet of his scales. Maybe that should scare or worry him, but all Steve can feel is excited and warm, and he's more than happy to bask in that feeling for a while.

----

Tag List (the tag list is full! I wasn't able to fit everyone, so if you aren't on here, I'd suggest following #high seas steddie. I think you should still get updates on your dash if you do)

@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar, @beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep, @weekend-dreamer7

@whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki, @mxmakessense, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @haelreadsshit, @y4r3luv, @starman-jpg, @littlewildflowerkitten, @estrellami-1, @stevieschrodinger, @gaelicblue, @they-reap-what-we-sow

@5ammi90, @noodle-shenaniganery, @acrolius, @hallelujahimatheist, @rainbow-freckle, @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @79chevyimpala, @aliea82, @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona, @sani-86, @queenie-ofthe-void, @goosesister, @hello-fellow-nerds, @luthienstormblessed, @xtkxkrzrizir, @potato-of-the-lord, @geekymagicalpotato, @child-of-cthulhu, @aizawa-emma, @m-owo-n, @newtstabber, @cartercaptainofthemoon, @spectrum-spectre, @a-little-unsteddie

#steddie #steddie fic #high seas steddie #merman steve harrington #pirate eddie munson #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fic #chrissy cunningham #platonic hellcheer #in the first half tho but maybe more to come? kinda winging it ngl

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badperson-8 · 8 months

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Butting In (Part 1) Lucifer, Mammon, Levi

Male/AMAB MC finds an intriguing sex toy – a magical fleshlight, which is automatically connected to the body of whoever haunts their sexual fantasies. How will each brother react if MC succumbs to the temptation and uses the device?

amabMC x Lucifer, amabMC x Mammon, amabMC x Levi

3.5k words | NSFW | Porn without plot | gn!pronouns MC | AO3 link

Content Warnings: Dub-con | Anal Sex

Part 2 (Satan, Asmo) Part 3 (Beel, Belphie) Part 4 (Diavolo)

Lucifer

Lucifer sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. He’s been sent to the House of Lords on behalf of Lord Diavolo for a brief check of their quarterly financial report. But what should’ve taken him at most two hours, stretched into several-hours torture, due to the incompetence of these noble fools. The accounting department did their best to analyze and categorize all the expenses, but Lords were so utterly incapable of providing any reasonable data in time that the finished report turned out to be an incoherent mess.

So now Lucifer is stuck in a place full of insufferable snobs, damned to do their job instead of them. At least the most excruciating part is over: he had to personally collect all the additional papers from each Lord, and now he only needs to compare the numbers. The demon has already sent all the accountants away; if they didn’t succeed the first time, it’s highly unlikely that they’ll be of any use. Lucifer prefers to work alone anyway.

The only two things that motivate him right now are a huge cup of the strongest coffee ever known to demons and potential revenge. If Lucifer manages to find any traces of financial machinations, Lord Diavolo will take this matter into his own hands. And when he’s on the case, it’s useless to hide behind the high status of a noble. The Future King deals with problems swiftly and mercilessly.

Lucifer smirks, takes a sip of coffee, and focuses on the documents in his hands. The demon occupied the office of one of the Lords after he unceremoniously kicked out the owner. The room has too many golden decorations for Lucifer’s liking, but at least the chair is comfortable enough. The soft rustle of papers and the rhythmical ticking of the clock help him concentrate and ignore intrusive thoughts about one particular human who waits for him at home… Perhaps there are actually three things that motivate Lucifer right now, but his pride will never let him admit it.

A sudden shiver runs along Lucifer’s body, making him twitch and almost spill all the coffee on the documents. The demon immediately lets go of the cup and straightens up, trying to figure out what the hell happened. But Lucifer doesn’t spot anything unusual, only the same ticking of the clock breaks the silence of an empty room.

The second shiver strikes him just as suddenly. This time it’s stronger, it pierces his mind and makes him grab the edge of the table, looking for support. Lucifer feels the ghost touches on his body, which concentrate on his backside. He unconsciously presses his hips against the seat in an attempt to hide his delicate parts from the unknown intruder. But to no avail. The unstoppable force concentrates on his most vulnerable part of the body, pressing inside and massaging the tensed walls of his entrance.

Lucifer bites his lower lip, trying to contain all the embarrassing noises deep within; a thin stream of blood runs down his chin and lands on one of the documents, staining it and coloring the white pages red. His trembling hand wipes off tiny drops of sweat from his forehead.

The Avatar of Pride is not capable of panicking, as simple as that. He has everything under control, no matter what happens. But now, for the first time in eternity, Lucifer doesn’t know what to do. He’s lost and confused; the burning desire to twist the neck of whoever does this to him and the baffling temptation to submit to these new sensations are tearing him apart.

Lucifer chooses the first option, concentrating his magic on the faint traces of the curse that makes him lose control over his body. The demon frowns as he mentally untangles the magical energies and reaches the source of the disturbance.

It’s MC, it’s their life force, their magical energy. Lucifer senses the power of some kind of artifact nearby, but its magic doesn’t look dangerous. The demon sighs, letting his tensed muscles finally relax. He feels an all-consuming relief at the thought of MC being the one who’s behind this. It’s them, they are responsible for all this nonsense. Of course, who else would it be? He should’ve figured it out sooner.

A gentle pressure on his insides continues, it seems MC doesn’t use the artifact to its full potential yet, preferring to check the toy with their fingers. Lucifer leans back in his chair and spreads his long legs apart. He could fly all the way to the House of Lamentation, confiscate this suspiciously powerful artifact, and lecture them for several hours straight, but…

Lucifer’s line of thought is interrupted by a sudden sensation of some liquid inside him. The demon frowns harder as he feels his cheeks and ears burn with humiliation. He closes his eyes, not to see how his hand unzips his pants and lets out his neglected boner. He doesn’t want to accept this. Lucifer shouldn’t be so agreeable towards the fact that he is being used as a sex toy. Even if it’s MC who does that. Stroking his dick to such foul sensations feels almost like a betrayal of his Pride. He should ignore his urges and…

The touch of a much bigger object feels shocking, no matter how much Lucifer anticipated dreaded the next stage of MC’s curiosity. It feels so much hotter than their fingers; it stretches him open inch by inch without meeting any resistance from Lucifer’s body. He breathes out sharply and tries to stop his hips from trembling. What a disgrace.

Lucifer clenches his fists, stubbornly ignoring his own growing excitement. But despite his efforts, his thighs spread even wider, chasing the feeling of the hot and pulsating flesh, magically conjured to bring Lucifer pleasure. The damn artifact is too good at recreating MC’s dick, too good at imitating all the deep thrusts. The demon can bear this for only so long. He snarls, grabs his dick, and starts stocking it with hungry desperation.

A quiet moan escapes Lucifer’s lips, but he immediately shuts his mouth with his hand, trying to save at least some dignity. The quicker the pushes become, the more difficult it is to contain all the moans. As Lucifer feels MC coming inside him, he bites his hand as hard as possible to muffle the final embarrassing sound. He growls as his fangs pierce his own skin, and his dick finally releases.

It takes him some time to regain his senses. The rhythmical ticking of the clock slowly returns Lucifer to reality. The demon silently stares at the pile of documents, now partially covered not only with his blood but also his sperm. He lifts his trembling hand and snaps his fingers to set the whole pile ablaze.

…They say that after one of the offices in the House of Lords burned down, together with important documents, the whole establishment had to work overtime to restore the lost data. It’s still unknown what exactly happened; some rumors mentioned a black-winged demon flying out of the office’s window in the direction of the House of Lamentation. But the strangest event that surpassed even the fire in one of the core institutions of the Devildom was no doubt the fact that, despite the sudden calamity and overdue financial report, Lucifer was walking around with a huge, bright smile on his face.

Mammon

Mammon is in deep shit. For real this time. He breathes heavily, peeking at five demons from around the corner. He sighs with relief as they march past his hiding spot and lovingly presses a giant bag full of money to his chest.

From Mammon’s perspective, this whole situation is exclusively the fault of these stupid morons. Who the hell keeps their money in cash nowadays?! These idiots were simply begging to rob them. How could Mammon say no? He will use the money better than they ever could anyway. MC was saying something about a new phone…

Mammon quietly swears and squats behind a dumpster, merging with the shadows. One of the demons returned and is now standing uncomfortably close to his hiding spot. Mammon needs to get out of here before they find him. He should make a run for it once the path is clear.

He squats lower, firmly hugging the bag in his hands. And he almost falls on his ass once he feels some kind of movement inside this very ass. Mammon shivers from disgust at the thought that he seems to be infected by damn tapeworms. He knew that a dinner at that shady restaurant was a bad idea. But seriously, how many are there? Or is it one thick-ass worm? It sure feels like it.

Despite his struggles, Mammon does his best to keep an eye on the demon next to him. They seem to have taken a break from the chase and are now simply smoking a cigarette.

Mammon can’t wait for too long, he needs to escape now while he has this chance. It seems he has to use just a little bit of violence. This demon is relaxed and completely unaware of their surroundings; it will be easy to jump them and knock them out within seconds. Gently, of course. Mammon quietly cackles as he slowly approaches the demon, still half-squatting and holding the bag in one hand.

But just as Mammon is ready to commit yet another crime, the fucking worm starts squirming again. The demon quietly moans, then immediately slams his mouth with his hand. The loud slap almost alerts the smoking demon, but they shrug it off.

“Must’ve been the wind.” They mumble, lifting their head and glaring at the stars. The sky is so beautiful today.

Meanwhile, just several feet away from the romantic demon, Mammon is having a mental breakdown. What the hell was that? No, Mammon didn’t just moan thanks to some stupid parasites, it’s a blatant lie. He tosses the bag on the ground and tries to turn his torso backwards to check his butt. It doesn’t help in the slightest since his jeans cover everything, so Mammon can only stare at his ass with disapproval.

His whole body suddenly shivers, making him drop to his knees and close his mouth with a hand once again. He feels something sticky and moist inside. At first, this strange sensation bothered only his asshole, but now it’s spreading deeper, all the way inside…

Mammon blinks away a single tear, trying not to panic. His medical condition is certainly dire, maybe he’s even dying. No, Great Mammon won’t die from some stupid worms, or whatever this is! He’ll find a cure; he just needs to escape first. MC will have to wait for a new phone a little longer, though; it seems that all the money will be spent on Mammon’s medical bills…

A sudden pressure on his asshole sends goosebumps all over Mammon’s body. He has to cover his mouth with his second hand, falling all the way to the ground. He’s now lying on his stomach, trying to regain his senses. Mammon feels something pushing inside him. His legs tremble, losing all their strength. His brain is trying to process everything that is happening but completely gives up once the ass gets attacked by powerful thrusts. Mammon’s erection is pressed uncomfortably to the ground through his jeans. He can’t even change the position, or at least take off his pants, since his body has fully betrayed him. The violent shivers shake Mammon’s body; he spends his last energy keeping his hands close to his mouth. Otherwise, the whole neighborhood will hear his whimpers.

Mammon’s mind is completely shut down, maybe as a way of precaution. At least the poor demon can’t reflect on the whole situation and be terrified of being either hopelessly ill or cursed. He can only focus on deep thrusts that hit his prostate over and over. The only thing that bothers him right now is his dick, still trapped in his jeans. He presses his hips closer to the ground to get at least some friction.

Mammon closes his eyes, breathing heavily into his hands. He’s so close, just a little more…

He’s suddenly being filled with something so hot that it heats up his insides; his ass unconsciously starts to greedily absorb this mysterious substance. Mammon trembles violently as he finally comes all over his pants. His last vocal moans break through the shield of his hands, shattering the surrounding silence.

As Mammon slowly returns to reality, he feels that his ass is now completely fine. He also feels that he is now surrounded by five angry demons who are ready to beat the shit out of him.

…MC is caressing Mammon’s soft hair as the demon complains to them about his rotten luck. He managed to escape in the end, which was a miracle, even with his abilities to run faster than anyone in the Devildom. The demons didn’t succeed in hurting him, but they took all their money back. Mammon doesn’t care that much about the money, though, being much more concerned about the possible disease. And MC just silently pats his hair, gathering their courage to tell Mammon about that one cool thing they found… And how it can actually be responsible for all of today’s misadventures.

Leviathan

Levi is bursting with excitement as he strolls around the comic-con. The amount of merch for all his favorite shows is simply unbelievable; and all the talented cosplayers make him wish he wasn’t such a shut-in otaku. To take a photo with any of them would be like a dream come true, but he’ll reach this major milestone some other time. He already has a huge reason to be proud of himself today.

Few reasons, actually. First of all, he came to this comic-con alone. All alone! Him! That’s right, he doesn’t need to ask Beel or Satan to come with him anymore. He doesn’t need any emotional support to come to this place, full of people… scary strangers… maybe they all think that he’s gross… or he smells bad…

Levi shakes his head, using his personal method of overcoming such anxiety attacks. All he needs to do is imagine MC, who holds him by the hand and smiles brightly at him. Yeah, that’s better. They always do this when he’s about to panic. Levi can’t give up, he promised that he’d have fun on his own.

The demon sighs, wishing MC was here with him. Lucifer forbade them to leave the house after they broke something when they were fooling around with Mammon. Levi frowns: this greedy scumbag always finds a way to mess with him, and now Levi has to spend the day all alone. Mammon ruined their date, and…

No-no-no-no, it wasn’t supposed to be a date, alright?! It WASN’T! Levi just offered MC to come with him, that’s all. He didn’t actually hope… That would be just silly, right?! Right…

Levi shakes his head once again, adjusting his stockings. Heels are not so bad, but these stockings are constantly trying to fall down. Maybe his legs are too skinny for this…

Hm? Oh yeah, that’s actually the second reason why Levi should be proud of himself. When he finally decided to invite MC on a da-… to hang out, he decided to consult with the professional, namely Asmo. He gave him some strange advices, like not eating too much during the day to avoid getting too dirty down “there”. Levi didn’t know where “there” was exactly, but he didn’t have the courage to ask. Other than that, Asmo had some great ideas: he assured Levi that MC would really appreciate it if he showed them his true passion. Specifically, if Levi put on his Ruri-chan costume, with stockings and all.

This idea got him really inspired; Levi spent several days preparing the costume for the show. So when the da-… the hangout was cancelled, he couldn’t just leave the costume at home. So he quickly made a giant sign “No photos, No touching, No interactions”, and came to the comic-con dressed in his pink dress.

Levi has never been prouder of himself. Despite everything, he paid homage to his favorite character. He wishes MC could see him right now…

“Ngh…” Levi winces, almost dropping his sign to the ground. His thighs firmly press together, slightly shaking from a sudden, unknown sensation between them. The demon blushes heavily and sprints to the bathroom, locking himself in one of the stalls.

He tosses the sign on the floor, lifts his skirt, and tries to inspect the area beneath. Levi did his best to make Ruri-chan’s costume as authentic as possible, which obviously included the right type of underwear. So now the demon carefully gropes his hips, covered with pink silk panties, in search of anything unusual.

His fingers dig into the silky fabric as he feels a strong tremble that concentrates in the area of his butt. He almost tears his underwear with his claws, trying to fight the unexpected weakness in his knees and not fall to the floor.

Levi gathers his strength, reaches the toilet lid, smashes it closed, and lands on it, breathing heavily. He would have never thought that it would be so hard to do such mundane actions, but he feels exhaustion after this little feat. He’s so confused by the riot of his own body that he doesn’t know what to think. Levi feels something slowly pushing inside, stretching him carefully. The only thing that prevents him from starting to seriously freak out is the fact that this unknown force immediately finds his weak spot.

The demon loudly screeches as something starts applying more pressure to his prostate. His dick already peeks out of the pink panties, leaving wet stains on the underwear and the skirt.

“Excuse me? Are you all right?” Someone knocks at the door of Levi’s stall, making him freeze. He squeezes his skirt in frustration as he shakily replies:

“Y-y-yes.”

That’s the best he can do, but luckily the stranger finds this reply passable and leaves him alone. Levi feels as his butt and asshole get covered in something sticky and warm, and he shivers in terror and anticipation. Wait, “anticipation”? No, Levi doesn’t enjoy this insane situation, not at all!

But self-reflection can wait. If the pushes renew, his voice will betray him again. And if this happens, the whole comic-con will hear him, and he certainly can’t let this happen! Levi needs to find something to block all the sounds ASAP. He looks around, trying to find something useful, but there aren’t many things in toilet stalls. Maybe something on him… Oh!

A genius idea graciously visits him. One of the main pieces of Ruri-chan’s clothing is, no doubt, her cute pink hat. Levi mentally apologizes to Ruri-chan for using her iconic hat in that way, takes it off, and shoves it in his mouth.

Just in time for a new stage of thrusts to start. This time they are much more intense. Levi feels how his fangs tear the soft fabric of his precious hat. But his idea mostly works: all his moans and whines are muffled, they are just quiet enough not to alert other people. He grabs his skirt, panties, his own thighs – anything other than his dick. Levi doesn’t want to do it like this. Not in the toilet stall, surrounded by strangers. Not in the Ruri-chan’s dress. Not without MC…

Levi slightly relaxes as his thoughts concentrate on MC. If he imagines that it’s them who inserts their dick inside him, he’ll manage to get through it. His brain successfully tricks itself, almost actually making him believe that it’s MC who is behind this cruel joke. If it’s them, it’s all right, Levi thinks, and allows himself to touch his neglected cock.

He strokes it desperately, focusing on his vivid fantasy of MC. His hole starts pulsating eagerly as he dives into his imagination. Whatever is on the other side must’ve felt how welcoming his hole became; the thrusts get faster and harder, almost making Levi fall from the toilet seat to the floor. He quickens the pace of his strokes to match the impatient pushes, squeezing the hat in his mouth with all his might.

He comes the moment he feels the hot release of an unknown entity inside him. Colorful circles flood his vision, leaving him completely strengthless. He tries to catch his breath, lazily thinking about the ruined costume, especially the pink panties he accidentally tore up. Now he needs to somehow clean up and hurry home, seeking refuge in MC’s arms. He’ll never go to any event without them again.

Part 2 (Satan, Asmo) Part 3 (Beel, Belphie) Part 4 (Diavolo)

P.S. The art doesn't belong to me, it's an official art from Shall We Date: Obey Me! (You, Me and Devil's Coast card)

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #mc x lucifer #mc x mammon #mc x leviathan #male mc #amab mc #bottom lucifer #bottom mammon #bottom leviathan #obey me gn!mc #obey me gender neutral mc #obey me ao3

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jojo-schmo · 1 month

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hi jojo! im just wondering but ive been wanting to make a comic for a little while but im not too sure where to start 😅. i really love your style of art and your forgotten land roleswap, and i was wondering if you had any tips for beginners?

Hello, hello! Thank you for enjoying my Forgotten Land Roleswap comic, it means a lot! <3

I'm very honored that people have been asking me for tips and advice. All of this is coming from a hobbyist who draws these comics purely for fun outside of my regular day job. Some of my methods would probably deal psychic damage to a professional, LOL. But I'm more than happy to share some things I've personally learned! :)

First of all, the book, "Understanding Comics" by Scott McCloud ROCKS. It literally gave me a new dimension to understand the medium of comics and how it presents ideas and emotions to readers! And I haven't even had the chance to finish it all the way! I'm very happy I own a copy and I recommend having one of your own if you can, but it's archived here if you want to read it :D

I also like analyzing other comics and thinking about how they get information across to me as a reader. It's helped me learn more effective ways to visually tell a story, like what to include in a frame, how zooming in or out affects the feeling from the panel, maybe building a scene by focusing on other stuff if someone is talking a lot... etc.

ANYWAYS-! Some other tips I've learned through my personal experience-

I had to overcome a lot of negative self-talk in order to tackle a huge comic project like this and stay committed. I was a pretty severe self-deprecator for most of my life so far, and getting help has allowed me to catch myself when I'm slipping back into those habits, look in the mirror, and go, "NO, JOJO! You pour your heart into what you make and that is a wonderful thing! You are appreciated and loved and you deserve to have fun making something you are passionate about!!" Some examples of the negative self-talk I catch myself in....

"I'm a noob at writing and making a story interesting... What's the point of even trying?"

When it comes to starting a project, whether it's 2 pages or 2000 pages, is to just jump in and start! It's okay to be a little insecure or nervous about your technical art skills, writing skills, etc... But writing a "bad" scene is better than no scene- because you can always edit a "bad" scene down the line, but what can you do with nothing? Nothing!! I also put "bad" in quotation marks because I am trying to use that term less, and instead call them "early drafts." or "works in progress."

The first Roleswap scene I fleshed-out was the first Bandee boss fight, in May 2022. I made this drawing on an impulse, getting my ideas down on the page without thinking about the technical stuff like comic panel borders. I consider it like a "pilot episode" almost, haha. The final project is going to be very different from how things play out here. But it got me interested in the concept and excited to see where I could take it, and I made the decision to commit to an entire game plot's worth of AU comics!!

Also, what's the point in trying you ask? The point is to have fun! Making a fan comic in my free time means I don't have restrictions like deadlines, nobody's telling me what I can and can't write, and I can make the story as long or as short as I want! I have full control, which means the world I'm writing is all mine to create! Yes, with a fan comic there is a pre-established world with existing characters. But a universe like Kirby has enough open-ended concepts for people to take basic concepts in the world and take them to whole new levels! I think that's why there are so many amazing fan interpretations of Kirby characters and OCs. The rules are so vague, you can just make up your own a lot of the time!! And it's a wonderful exercise to learn skills for someday building an original world with all original characters from scratch! Magical!!!

"I'm not good enough to make a comic. I don't understand perspective or color and other stuff. Anything I make will look bad.

I once read a two panel comic on here. I can't find it anymore but I remember most of it. First panel showed the artist looking at what they're drawing on their tablet, looking defeated and sad. "Man, I don't even know how to draw this....."The next panel was like them smiling and shrugging, I think rainbows and sparkles were coming out of their tablet, ".....I GUESS I'LL JUST HAVE TO DRAW IT SHITTY!! :D "

IF ANYONE KNOWS THIS COMIC I'M REFERENCING, PLEASE TELL ME AND I'LL LINK IT!!! Because it permanently and positively changed my brain chemistry.

No kidding, making the decision to just do my best even if it's not perfect, helped me a LOT. I was always waiting to "reach a certain level" to tackle a huge project because I felt like I'd never do it justice at my current state. Except I had been telling myself that kind of stuff for years and I still didn't start any projects!!

So the day I said, "Oh well! If I draw backgrounds shitty, then it is what it is! I'll learn from it and draw the next background a little better," Was the day I could commit fully to the project. I'll keep studying how to draw them better for my own benefit, but I won't let my skill issues stop me from even trying!

And for my limited confidence in full-color art, I solved that by making the comic in black and white with no-to-minimal shading lolol. Because I can only address one skill issue at a time before it takes me 25 years to finish this HAHAHA.

It saves a BUNCH of time to work with skill issues rather than against them! Because at least experience is gained in other ways, and who knows, maybe that new knowledge will help address the skill issues someday! So identifying your personal skill issues and deciding which one to try to grow stronger, and which one to work around, could help with big projects!

"Nobody will read this. I'm going to put months or years of my life into a dumb little thing nobody will even care about."

Learning how to draw for my own enjoyment instead of somebody else's was one of the biggest breakthroughs I ever made. Enjoying the feeling of being challenged artistically and just doing my best, even if it's not technically perfect, is the reason why I was even able to start this!

And just because someone doesn't directly like, comment or whatever on a post doesn't mean nobody saw it! I used to get really down on myself for the lack of engagement on my art on other websites.

I was a lurker for pretty much my entire teenage years and never posted my own stuff or commented much. But that didn't take away the fact that I really enjoyed the things I saw online. Those positive feelings were real to me, even when I didn't know how to articulate it in words. Granted, I grew up into a Words of Affirmation main, and I use words to tell people the positive things I think about them as much as I can! But I know not everyone prefers words to express themselves. So I think about the people that I don't know enjoy my work- that just because I don't see it doesn't mean I didn't make a positive impact on someone by sharing my stories.

THIS IS GETTING LONG-- UHHH, STORY TIPS!!

If you work best on technology, start building the story in a Notes app, or a Google Doc! If you work best with pen and paper, start a notebook and rearrange stuff as you need to!

Or if you're chaotic like me, a mix of tech and paper!! I bought a notebook with ring binding so I can remove and rearrange pages of drafts as much as I wanted to! Like here's two very rough concept pages of one Chapter 1 scene made months apart.

I'd say planning out the biggest basic plot points and then filling in between as I went was most helpful! I also have separate notes for character motivations, important story-changing events, etc... So I can have my own reference when I'm writing new scenes!

Okay this was a lot, sorry about the yapping! Hopefully it helps even a tiny bit. If you have any specific questions I'm happy to talk about my experience in the creation process! Or elaborate on anything I said above.

And finally, because I'm not a professional there are probably plenty of other tactics that could work better for some people. My ADHD probably doesn't help with the chaos of my process either, HAHA. But thank you for reading this far and enjoying the peek into the rainbow glitter and soap bubbles that inhabit the right side of my brain, heehee.

#ref #roleswap scraps #roleswap asks #forgotten land roleswap #ask #king dedede #meta knight #elfilis #bandana waddle dee #comics

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taylorswiftstyle · 8 months

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Are you ready for it? A new Taylor Swift book inspired by her best outfits throughout the decades is headed for bookstores. The book titled Taylor Swift Style: Fashion Through the Eras doesn’t come out until Oct. 8, but the buzz around it has already landed the tome as a No. 1 bestseller on Amazon for fashion design.

Longtime fashion blogger Taylor Swift Style (known offline as Sarah Chapelle) wrote the book and has garnered 240,000 followers on Instagram, along with being credited in publications such as Billboard, People, Harper’s Bazaar and more for her research. You can expect more than 200 photos of some of the “Delicate” singer’s most iconic looks, as well as insight into the hidden meaning behind each outfit. It’s no secret that Swift loves a good Easter egg, and Chapelle looks to delve into the effortless fusion of fashion and music through every red carpet gown and streetwear style that’s spotlighted.

“Taylor Swift Style: Fashion Through the Eras is a natural extension of my blog and Instagram account that combines detailed identification reporting with analyzing the intention behind each look — definitively capturing her style evolution across almost two decades,” Chapelle tells Billboard.

Each first-edition comes with a rainbow spine that’s symbolic of each era, as well as gold foiled pages, which Chapelle hopes will help “people see this book as something truly special and worthy of being displayed.”

What also sets her book apart from any other Swift books goes beyond the research. Chapelle has been listening to Swift’s music since 2006 and even saw her open for Rascal Flatts and Brad Paisley. Using the built-up knowledge and love of the “August” singer, she hopes that the amount of care and thought she put in will come to all who pick up a copy.

“I’ve been documenting Taylor’s fashion since 2011, providing not only the exact pieces she’s wearing, but also providing my personal insight and context on her clothes as a communication tool,” she says. “All my most significant firsts as a young female were easier to navigate and process because they were mirrored and comforted by the soundtrack that she wrote. I hope what comes across in this book — and in everything I do — is the level of care, thought and deep-rooted feelings that are there. I’ve been inspired by Taylor’s emotional authenticity for over half my life, and I hope that’s captured in these pages.”

PRE-ORDER TAYLOR SWIFT STYLE: FASHION THROUGH THE ERAS

#tss news

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queenofallimagines · 9 months

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Satan if you were a satanist before you arrived in the devildom

A/n: listennnn in between getting dragged by the Lucifer chat bots, writing two really long fics and having brain worms about this Au I’ve had so many thoughts and Satan has landed in my radar☺️ asmo and Simon are NEXT bc guardian angels are a whole DIFFERENT can of worms

I’m gunna use like ACTUAL satanic lore mixed in w the game lore

Satan:

- okay so boom

- Right off the bat he can tell you are different

- Sitting back waiting to see how you react to everyone

- Takes note you’re much more respectful to him than the rest

- Thought you were walking on eggshells because you were terrified of him but you ain’t scared at all

- You see through all his pranks

- “He’ll probably see that coming a mile away. Try moving it over here Lucifer don’t check there.”

- Color him impressed

- Does see you don’t really freak out like his brothers when he goes into one of his little rage fits

- When he offered to make the pact with you to piss Lucifer off you were really caught at a pass

- Like for one you technically already have a soft pact with him being a devotee

- But also you don’t want to disrespect him by saying no

- Choosing to not get on Lucifer’s bad side because you still do have a mission to do in that attic, soyou politely decline

- “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to make a pact with you that isn’t built on a mutual trust and understanding”

- He’s always told you to sniff out a trap and you were NOT falling for it

- Blinded by rage for not getting his way, that’s when he lashes out

- He feels something weird in his chest when he looks at you in that moment but he can’t quite understand it. Like a tugging feeling at the back of his head trying to tell him something

- When you get caught I. The middle of the whole “they’re the same person thing” you just roll your eyes

- “No shit they’re not the same person🙄😒 Satan and Lucifer couldn’t be more different, Lucifer is the morning star and Satan is more tricker than anything :/ crazy how yall don’t do research”

- Ngl he almost fell for you right then and there

- He cannot STAND that especially when humans call anything and everything Satan and refer to him and Lucifer like they’re the same person.

- Looks at you with star eyes for a second before sticking to you like glue. He’s very fascinated with you and wants to study you under a microscope

- Ask you if you’re like Solomon and have been studying for years

- Did you manage to get your hands on some devildom textbook somehow?

- Maybe even some texts form the celestial realm

- “Not really but that would be super cool to read.”

- He himself hates misinformation so you be correcting all the demon brothers with the quickness

- Lucifer is very annoyed and Satan is elated

- Notices you looking at him a lot, like you’re analyzing him

- Ofc he’s blunt and isn’t gunna beat around the bush he asks you what you’re doing starring at him like that

- “It’s really nice to see what you actually look like… if you’re shape shifting all the time and this is the form you stay in full time it’s… nice to see you face to face”

- Confused for a second because he doesn’t often make trips directly to the human world even for a summoning

- “Well I mean, in the human world we don’t actually know what you look like. The only book that has a description of what you looked like and are has the pages mysteriously ripped out and have never been found. I assume that was your doing?”

- Shocked pikachu bc he fr forgot he did that in his younger years

- His mischievous tendencies have been delegated directly to Lucifer, he understands the value of books now

- “Ah,,, I do recall doing that. It would make sense why you’re starring at me so hard.”

- Blushes when you call him a pretty boy

- Like he’s in his room kicking his feet giggling

- You bring him his offerings directly

- He won’t even realize you’re doing deity work with him and is just excited to spend time with you

- Whenever you come back home from class or whatever you give him little things you got in your way back or snacks he likes

- Nobody has ever seen satan smile this much

- Lucifer peeps when it’s your turn to cook dinner you just so happen to favor foods Satan likes and uses ingredients he does to cook too

- Will be very suspicious of you mirroring his behavior

- Satan is none the wiser truly he’s assure at familiar feeling is like some star crossed lovers stuff and you were meant to meet by fates hands

- Has so many cute cat themed things in his room from you

- Lucifer is not liking how you seem to be trying to gain his trust for your own reasons but he can’t sense anything malicious.

- He can’t pinpoint any alternate motive for this behavior

- Satan will not notice until someone points it out to him

- Lucy straight up asks you why you’re getting so friendly with him

- Mammon also chimes in that you seem like you’re sucking up to him, and Satan feels conflicted be he doesn’t like how they’re accusing you but also the fact that you might be just being nice to him because you want something is setting his nerves on fire

- Rolling your eyes you shoot back at Lucifer that you’re just worshiping Satan like you usually do

- The old man is takes aback and Satan is like…. I beg your pardon?😀

- “Satan has been my patron for years now, the only thing that’s different is that I can give him my offerings and ask him for help directly”

- Mammon is chewing the carpet he’s supposed to be your first man!

- Satan is flabbergasted and is searching his memory for this information

- Before he remembers

- “How did I not notice??”

- “I thought you knew??”

- “NO???”

- Dinner is wild bc now asmo asking for embarrassing memories of you

- Rip bc Satan gon tell it ALL😭

- I feel like he’d be the type to keep a log so he might not remember every single face and name because he does fuck with some people who summon him

- Grabs your notebook from his room and starts reciting shit BAR FOR BAR

- “Oh yeah i remember this! You were quite a rowdy child picking fights with everyone. Your temper was awful”

- “YOU DO NOT GET TO FUCKING SAY THAY TO ME!!”

- laughing because he’s taking a stroll down memory lane and he’s dragging you along

- Can feel your anger a mile away, he’s in your ear now more than EVER going “don’t you want to go apeshit?”

- Constantly encouraging you to loose your temper on Lucifer

- He feeds off your rage and it feels almost euphoric to him, because he’s an instigator if anything😭

- “Where the fuck is your rage?? Lucifer was definitely disrespecting you👀👀”

- Exhausting

- Lucifer will get on him about having you up for hours on end reading and studying when you need to sleep

- You will NOT fail any class not on his fucking watch! He’s gunna make sure you excel in this exchange program academically

- Even if he’s not who you ask for things he’s helping you

- “Do NOT as belphie for help with dream interpretation I’ll help you!!”

- Very proud to show you off

- “Y’all see MY human?”

- Mammon is trying not to start problems on purpose

- He will probably bend you over Lucifer’s desk bestie it’s inevitable

- If you’re intimate before he knows he’s really gentle and makes sure to take his time with you

- If it’s after he will be rough and mean

- He definitely cares about you and loves you but he will pretend he’s using you as a toy

- As if he’s your god and you’re nothing but a lowly mortal designed to be used and filled up by him

- Choking you out and breeding you for hours on end

- Will be so incredibly gentle with aftercare it’s almost like he’s a different person

- “Look at you drooling and can’t even keep your eyes focused. Pathetic. You’re too stupid to think of anything other than how I’m ruining you”

- Makes you struggle to walk every time

- Gets carried away and marks you everywhere like diavolo asking you why there’s a hickey on your ankle😭

- Almost buys you a collar if Lucifer didn’t stop him

- Wants you to know you belong to him and you’re his little follower

- Tells you how good you are for him and gives you a nice reward

- “You’re so good for me, so eager to please and make me happy. My human deserves a reward hm?”

- Cocky asf for no reason PLEASE humble his ass!!

- Gets off on it when you pin him down and call him pathetic

- “The great avatar of wrath Satan himself bouncing on my lap like a whore desperate to get off.”

- He’s literally turning to mush for you

- Whimpering and looking at you with teary eyes

- “P-please I need to cum I’ll do anything”

- Bites back a moan when you coo at him that he’s so pathetic needing a mortal to get off

- He can feel how mean you are and your anger through your pact and it’s making his body buzz with excitement

- Panting and wiggling his hips he’s begging you to fill him up

- Call him a good kitty and he probably won’t be able to last

- Likes when you punish him like best his ass fr leave bruises make his ass bright red!!

- He’s really just attached to you and will cause a big issue when you have to leave the devildom at the end of the year😅

#x black reader #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x black reader #obey me satan #satan x reader #my wrtitng #satan smut #Satan obmswd #obm satan #Satan x Reader smut #obey me smut #satan om

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optimizeforseo1 · 1 year

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How To Analyze The Performance Of Your Landing Page

The landing page is the most vital weapon for marketing a business nowadays. Even after the investment of many bucks and labor to set up an online platform for business, many projects fail due to a lack of good analysis of the landing page report.

A landing page is the first page a visitor arrives at while visiting a website. The list of all pages a visitor sees first during their session is known as the landing page report. But when you review your website’s landing page report in Google analytics, your field of observation and examination will not remain limited to the landing page only. You have to deal there with all the pages a visitor encountered first during their visiting session.

In the highly competitive field of online marketing, monitoring the landing page’s metrics is one of the most important tasks to do. It keeps a proper track of the traffic demand, which you can utilize while setting up your own business and marketing strategy. The most significant landing page report’s most notable role is visible while working on e-commerce or data cluster type of websites.

Traffic on the Landing Page

The primary metric for landing page visits is the most important before analyzing any other metrics. This is important as it tells you the number of visitors to your landing page. Another help which it does is to track the number of visitors during weekdays and weekends. It gives you the approximate data of the number of visitors to your landing page. Along with this, the next crucial metric analysis is the source of the visitors to your landing page.

Traffic Source in the Landing Page

While traffic is the primary factor in the landing page, traffic source becomes its most important factor. It is indispensable to track the origin of visitors on your landing page. This is important as it helps you chalk out which campaign your landing page is working and which is not. Different traffic source has different outputs. You will encounter visitors from various sources, which includes-

Direct Traffic–

Visitors who have entered your landing page typed the URL into the browser’s address bar directly. Their authority is straight from the browser without using any other link from other websites or message forwards.

Referral Traffic–

The visitors here, click on a link provided for your landing page on some other website. They do not get to encounter your landing page directly.

Social Media Traffic–

Social Media now plays a vital role in landing pages. There are multiples of advertisements that give your landing page traffic. Many of the visitors and users click on a link through those social media posts. Now here, the job is to track down the social network which is providing you traffics.

Search Traffic–

Multiple users search a particular keyword in Bing, Google, and Yahoo and end up landing on your page. It’s also called Organic Traffic.

Email Traffic–

This consists of users who land up on your landing page by clicking a link to the newsletter and the marketing emails.

Pay Per Click Traffic–

The users click on ads in search engines and land up on your landing page.

These six vital traffic sources are significant for analyzing your works, and the campaign has been your best works. You will be able to generate traffic from the best sources only if you know the traffic source metrics. For instance, say the data of your landing page performance metric says that it has gained 89% of traffic for Referral Traffic and 11% of traffic from Pay Per Click traffic, then it will help you work on the best source for your landing page. In this case, the referral traffic shall be the traffic source on which the work is to be done more significantly.

Though, these are not the only ways to analyze your landing page’s performance. It would help if you found out the duration of traffic that stays on your landing page. This is the next metric you need to focus upon.

Session Duration of the Traffics

This metric is about the duration of the average amount of time the visitors have spent on your landing page before leaving the site. However, this metric is only significant if the visitors travel to another page of the same site. The session duration does not work if the visitor leaves the site, whether or not the visitor has spent some or no time on the site.

To track the duration, it is recommended to use Google Event Tracking API to calculate the visitor’s period on the landing page. Once the session duration tracking is done, you need to focus on the rate at which the users leave your landing page after entering it. The metric is popularly known as Bounce Rate.

Bounce Rate of Landing Pages

The Bounce Rate is very vital for evaluating the performance of your landing page. This is related to session duration metrics. It would help if you never forgot the rate at which the viewers, users, or visitors leave your landing page immediately after getting into it through any traffic source. The e-commerce marketers are very keen on the percentage of visitors who leave their landing page without clicking on any other page of their same website. The best is to keep the bounce rate low for your landing page. How will you keep the bouncing rate low on your landing page? It is easy if you pay attention to the content you have on the landing page. You need to make the content enjoyable so that visitors do not just abandon the website but also go through the whole webpage thoroughly, visiting all the pages. Increasing content is one way to keep the bounce rate low. It would help if you encouraged the visitors to not abandon your landing page without visiting other pages. If the volume of bounce rate is high, then the reasons would be-

The page content of the landing page is not valuable.

Page is not compelling enough to the visitors.

UX of the landing page is low.

The message provided on the landing page is misleading and is unclear.

The navigation of the page is complex.

These five factors are why you need to work on the contents of your landing page to keep the bounce rate low.

Ways of Improving Landing Page Performance

Improving landing page performance is essential. Knowing the metrics to evaluate your landing page’s performance is not enough for the landing page’s success. Utilizing the findings is most important for your landing page performance, as you will be able to generate more leads if you have a good understanding. Digital marketers improve their performance by improving their web page performance. It is the same thing for improving the landing pages. Few factors that will help you to improve your landing page-

Catchy Headlines

Have you ever seen the best newspapers making stories? How do they attract you? It is merely by the catchy headlines they provide to their readers. Similarly, your landing page’s profitable campaign needs a catchy headline, which will attract visitors to go through the campaign and visit other pages of the same website through it. This will naturally increase the number of clicks on your page. It is the headline that compels the visitors to enter the page.

Mobile Friendly Pages

Statistics have shown that a page gets most of its traffic from mobile devices.

Removal of Distractions– It is essential to keep away any pop-ups, external links, banners. It generally disturbs the visitor, and they tend to abandon the page at once. Also, it is difficult for the visitor to concentrate on the page. More than 70% of people dislike ads. Hence, eliminating distractions will improve the performance of your landing page.

SEO friendly Landing page

Remember to optimize your page in the search engine. It helps in standing out from your competitors. Also, it helps to increase the clicks on your landing page. The use of unique keywords is the key to success in improving your performance on the landing page. This will help you generate organic searches in the search engine.

These were the few factors that should be ardently followed for improving landing page performance. In other words, you must know the strategies on how to attract visitors.

Conclusion

Keeping it short, do not use landing pages for measuring its performance from time to time. It will lead your campaign to get shaped and converting visitors to leads. All you need to do is follow the factors that will improve your landing page’s performance. Through this, there will be monitoring of the campaign on your landing page. The results will not come overnight, and it will show its effectiveness gradually. So, start evaluating the performance of your landing page today.

Blog Source :- https://optimizeforseo.com/how-to-analyze-the-performance-of-your-landing-page/

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coolemmasulivan2 · 5 months

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Love Wins (Even in Red) | 3

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reporter!Reader

Summary: Fate reunites them under the red lights of Old Trafford. Interviews are frosty, leaving people wondering why. Can Mason forgive Reader for something that happened in the past? Can she win Mason's heart and prove love wins even on red?

Word Count: 3526

Author's Note: You could read part 1 and 2 in my now old blog, but my account was closed by Tumblr, but I still wanted people to read part 3 (even if the other parts have died), so here it is. If you haven't read or don't remember the other parts, I think it's best not to read this one.

Thought you'd hate me, but instead you called And said, "I miss you", I caught it

Your shoes on her feet were pissing you off. Everything about her visit, the bad timing, the unwelcome reminder of the past, was starting to grate. Lily was your little sister, and despite the years of hurt and betrayal, a sliver of love still flickered within you. It would always be there, buried deep, but trust and affection? Those were long gone.

Across the table, your roommate glared at Lily with daggers for eyes. Clare wasn't happy about this surprise visit either and the way she chopped her steak said it all.

Clare's voice, sharp as a knife, cut through the awkward silence. "So, Lily, what brings you here?"

Lily offered her a smile. "Oh, I just miss Y/n so much! And since she couldn't make it to my graduation, I thought I'd surprise her with a visit. You know, it's been ages!"

You scoffed internally. Lily wasn't the sentimental type, and affection had never been her strong suit. Neither had it been for the rest of your family.

"Right." She managed, forcing a neutral smile. You shot Clare a glance, hoping to restrain her hatred, but your roommate ignored you completely. "How long are you planning to stay?"

"Only three days!" Lily said. "I got a job back in London, going to start next week."

"Oh, that's good."

You stayed silent, picking at your food without much appetite. You could practically hear your mother's voice in your head: "Y/n, don't play with your food!" Your stomach was already churning from the earlier incident, and the awkward dinner atmosphere wasn't helping.

"Y/n? Did you hear me?"

You blinked, startled by your thoughts. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Just wondering how things are going with you. Work? Everything alright?" Her voice dripped with a sweetness you found questionable. Was she mocking you? Or maybe trying to pry about how you were doing with Mason now that he was around?

Across the table, Clare let out a loud scrape as her knife snagged across her plate. The harsh sound did little to hide the tension radiating from her. You could practically see her clench her jaw, trying to control her anger.

"Everything's good," you mumbled, forcing a smile. You didn't want to get into a conversation, especially not with Lily. But the silence felt suffocating, so you offered a bland reply, hoping to deflect further questions.

The Christmas lights twinkled on the tree, casting a warm glow on the richly decorated table. You, recently graduated, sat across from your parents, a nervous excitement bubbling in your chest. You'd finally landed your dream job – a football reporter. Tonight, you wanted to share your accomplishment, to celebrate this pivotal moment in your life with your family.

"So, Y/n," your father started, "tell us all about this 'football reporter' job of yours. Sounds… interesting." His voice held a faint undercurrent of scepticism that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your smile was big. "It is, Dad! I get to meet incredible athletes, analyze the game from a different perspective, share the stories behind the players that make them human, not just statistics on a page…"

"The stories behind the players," your mother echoed, her perfectly manicured red nails tapping a rhythmic counterpoint against the tablecloth. "Like what, exactly? 'Football Star caught eating pizza before the big match'? Don't you think you could be using your talents for something… more important? A doctor, perhaps?"

The air hung heavy, the weight of their disapproval pressing down on you. "Mom, I love this job. It lets me be creative, connect with fans, capture the passion of the sport…"

"Creative?" Your mother mocked. "Medical school, that was clever. Imagine the impact you could've had as a doctor, Y/n, making a real difference in the world."

A heavy silence fell upon the table. Your mother pursed her lips, her disapproval a palpable presence. You glanced at your younger sister, Lily, who sat beside you, seemingly engrossed in her phone, like always.

"At least we still have Lily." Your father finally muttered, a hint of resignation in his voice. "She's on track to become a Lawer, just like we always hoped." His words, though apparently meant to be comforting, only deepened the depth that had grown between you and your family.

You sprawled on your bed, watching a random movie on TV. The awkward dinner had left a sour taste in your mouth, and the tension with Lily still crackled in the air. You sighed, a wave of exhaustion washing over you.

The door creaked open, and Clare poked her head in. Her usually bright eyes held a dark glint. "Can I please kill her?" she whispered, gesturing towards the living room where your sister was sleeping.

You chuckled, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "No, Clare, you can't kill her. She's still my sister, even if…" Your voice trailed off, searching for the right words.

Clare walked into the room, closing the door behind her and flopping dramatically onto the bed beside you. "Even if she's a… leech?"

A ghost of a smile played on your lips. "Something like that."

Clare propped herself up on one elbow, her gaze fixed on the flickering TV screen. "But seriously, why do you think she's here? The timing is awfully convenient, wouldn't you say."

You couldn't argue with that. "Maybe she just… missed me?" you offered, the doubt heavy in your voice.

Clare snorted, a skeptical eyebrow raised. "Honey, let's be real. Lily missing anyone besides her phone or free vacations? Not likely."

Her words were harsh, but they held a ring of truth. "So, what do you think she wants? You don't think…" you stammered, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air.

"Think what?" Clare prompted, her gaze sharp. "That she's worried about the video being leaked, especially now that Mason plays for United and is practically your neighbour?"

You stared at the ceiling, the image of Mason's smile flashing before your eyes. The idea of Lily sabotaging your relationship with Mason once again filled you with a cold fury.

"Well," you finally said, your voice steely with resolve, "if that's her game, she's underestimated me. I won't let her hold this over my head anymore. It's my time to be happy."

Across the white tablecloth, Olivia's voice buzzed like a nervous bee. "So, my parents dragged me all the way from California to Manchester when I was eight. Talk about culture shock!" Her laugh, light and tinkly, didn't quite reach Mason.

His smile, felt heavy tonight. It was a mask hiding the knot of butterflies twisting in his stomach. The fancy lobster soup in front of him remained untouched, a sad contrast to the vivid picture playing on repeat in his head.

You! Your long hair illuminated by the warm sun, your eyes sparkling when talking about the things you liked and made you happy, your pink soft lips touching his. He could almost feel the warmth of your hands as they brushed against his cheeks, sending a shiver down his spine.

"It must've been tough." He said, moving uncomfortably in his chair.

Olivia, oblivious to his internal baggage, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "It was, but Manchester grew on you, you know? There's just this… vibe here. It's electric."

Mason forced a chuckle. Vibe! His brother loved throwing that word around. It was probably the same way he'd described the blind date he had set him up with – "She's got this great vibe, Mase, you'll love her!" But that wasn't what he was feeling.

"So, Mason…" Olivia continued, her smile fading under his distracted gaze. "Tell me about yourself. Is there anything you're passionate about outside of football?"

Mason blinked, pulled back from the memory of your face by Olivia's question. "Uh, well, football obviously takes up a lot of my time, but…" He trailed off, his mind searching for something, anything, to fill the silence. However, he knew he should end the dinner soon, it was not fair to Olivia. Your image always in his mind, vibrant and passionate, made it hard to stay present. "Olivia..." he started.

Olivia's smile faltered slightly, but she recovered quickly. "No worries, Mason. It's clear we're not really on the same page. It's fine."

A real smile finally broke through on Mason's face as they said goodbye. After paying the bill and making sure Olivia got a cab, a wave of relief washed over him. He pulled out his phone, his heart pounding, as he typed a single message to Bruno: "Can you send me Y/n's number?"

The sunlight sliced through the gap in your curtains as panic jolted you awake. A frantic glance at the old clock you still had on your nightstand confirmed your worst fear. You were late. Way late.

Your phone lay lifeless on the nightstand after a tense dinner with Lily. No phone alarm, no clue what time you'd fallen asleep, no idea if you'd missed any messages or calls. Mostly, you worried about work. Being late wasn't your thing.

Throwing off the covers, you launched into a record-breaking morning routine. You put on the first thing you pulled from the closet and practically ran out of the room, searching for your coat.

A glance towards the kitchen caught you off guard. Breakfast sat on the table, a spread fit for a king compared to your usual morning routine.

"Good morning!" Lily appeared with a glass of orange juice in her hand. You couldn't help but wonder if you even had oranges in the house.

"Hi," you mumbled, pulling your hair into a messy ponytail. "What's all this?"

She smiled, clearly proud of herself. "Breakfast, silly! Sit down and eat something."

The tempting aroma tickled your nose, but you couldn't. "I can't. I'm already late." You reached for your coat, glimpsing out the window to see that it was raining.

"Oh, I hoped we could talk," Lily said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "You know... without Clare around."

"I'll be back later. We can talk then. Now I really have to go." You grabbed your bag and everything you needed, throwing a hurried goodbye over your shoulder.

"Have a nice day."

Lily's words echoed in your ears as everything went wrong. You missed the bus, the rain hammered down as you stepped outside, and to top it all off, you'd left your phone uncharging at home in the morning chaos. By the time you finally reached your work, you were soaked to the bone.

When you were finally leaving work, one of your coworkers who witnessed your day of misfortune, took pity on you and offered you a ride home. At least something seemed to be going right.

Stepping inside the house, the clean, fresh scent greeted you like a warm hug. Lily sat on the couch, laptop open on her lap and a smile on her face.

"Hi, big sis! How did your day go?"

You wanted to scream the first words that came to mind: awful, the worst, horrible. Instead, you settled for a simple, "Busy!"

"Did you clean?" You asked, gesturing to the spotless living room. She nodded. "You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do."

"Well, thanks." You took your coat, hanging it by the door. "I'm going to take a shower and then we can talk about what you wanted to talk about this morning."

"Okay."

In your room, you tossed your bag onto the bed and flopped down, staring at the ceiling. It had been a long time since a day had gone so wrong, and all you wanted was to sleep and erase it from your memory. But Lily still wanted to talk.

With a sigh, you got up and spotted your phone, still dead, lying on the nightstand where you'd left it. You grabbed the charged cable from your bag and connected them, a flicker of life returning to the screen as the battery symbol lit up.

Grabbing some fresh clothes, you headed to the bathroom, letting the warm water wash away the stress. You didn't know how long you stood there, but eventually, the water grew lukewarm, and you stepped out.

Back in the living room, you dropped onto the couch, the TV playing some random show Lily had left on.

"So, what do you want to talk about?"

Lily closed her laptop and faced you, her expression serious. You mirrored her posture, sensing the conversation was going to be serious.

"Okay, so, I have some news I haven't shared with you." Confusion clouded your face. She shifted slightly, a sign of nervousness. "Well, I have a boyfriend."

You smiled. "Lily, you're a grown woman, you don't have to tell me about your boyfriends."

She stood up and walked over, sitting on the coffee table in front of you. "This time I do have to tell you." Your silence encouraged her to continue. "You see, it's a serious relationship and... We're engaged!"

Your jaw dropped. You were happy, but deep down there was also a sense of jealousy. So, she was supposed to be happy but you weren't, you thought to yourself.

"I— I don't know what to say. Congrats!" You opened your arms for a hug, which she returned. "How— how long have you been dating him? I mean, what's his name?"

"His name is John. John Kingsley." Lily said a nervous smile on her face.

The name hung heavy in the air, a suffocating weight pressing down on you. Lily felt a sense of dread as she saw a flicker of recognition in your eyes, her nervous anticipation replaced by fear.

Blood roared in your ears, drowning out everything else. "Professor Kingsley?" you choked out, the words barely a whisper.

Lily's expression was replaced by a grimace of apology. "Yes!" She stammered. She knew the truth would explode, and the fear in your eyes was a reflection of her own.

"How could you?" you said, the anger you'd bottled up for three years finally bursting. "That video, of both of you, forced me away from Mason! He ruined my life!"

"It was not him that blackmailed us."

"Blackmail us? You mean Blackmailed me!" Tears welled up in Lily's eyes, but they did little to extinguish the fire in yours. "How could you even think about marrying-- How old is he?"

She'd known this anger was coming. She still remembered the fear and the disappointment in your eyes as you'd agreed to leave Mason and London behind.

"Y/n, I—" she started, but your voice cut through her like a knife.

"I had to leave Mason," you choked out, your voice thick with unshed tears. "I had to give up everything because of that video. And you're going to marry him?"

"Like I said, It wasn't him that blackmailed you."

The weight of your sacrifice, the years of unspoken hurt, crashed down on you like a tidal wave. "It doesn't matter, Lily! It was because of your video that they were able to blackmail me." You shouted. Lily reached for you, a silent plea for understanding, but you flinched away. "Don't touch me," you whispered, the words laced with ice.

"Y/n, please." she pleaded. "Let me explain."

"I don't want to hear it," you said, your voice trembling with the force you were trying to contain. "I want you to be happy, Lily. Seriously, I do. But I can't be a part of this. Not after everything you two did to me."

Without another word, you grabbed your coat and stormed out of the house. You slammed the front door shut, the rain hitting your face. Tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring the world around you. You didn't see the familiar car pull up in front of the house.

Mason.

He approached the house, unaware of your presence as you left the house. He quickly got out of the car, his concern etching on his face as he knocked on the door.

Lily opened the door, a flicker of surprise crossing both of their features.

"Ahm-- Lily?" He said, unsure of the name. He had only met her once and she didn't exactly look like that young girl anymore.

"Mason? Hi. What are you doing here?" She looked nervous and looked like she'd been crying.

"I've been trying to reach Y/n, but her phone is off. I needed to talk to her."

Lily's eyes darted nervously around, avoiding his gaze. "She's not home."

Disappointment clouded Mason's face. "Oh, okay. I guess I'll try her again later. Thanks anyway." He turned to leave, his shoulders slumped.

But before he could disappear into the rain, Lily spoke up. "Wait, Mason. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He stopped, and a flicker of confusion appeared in his eyes. "Sure." Lily stepped aside, guiding him into the house.

Your breaths mixed in the quiet aftermath, soft sighs escaping your lips. Mason traced a finger along your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"You know," he began, his voice husky with tiredness. "Spending time with you it's the best part of my day."

A shy smile bloomed on your face as you ran your fingers slowly on his chest. "Really?"

"Absolutely," he confirmed, his eyes searching yours. "I just... I really like you, Y/n. More than I thought possible."

Your heart skipped a beat. "I... I feel the same way," you confessed, your voice barely a whisper. "So," You murmured, your voice filled with unspoken hope. "What does that mean for us?"

He pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. "I think," He said, his voice gaining strength. "That maybe we should make things official. Be a couple, you know?"

Your eyes sparkled with joy. "I'd like that more than anything."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss.

Pushing open the front door, you were greeted by an unfamiliar darkness. The dining table was illuminated by the soft glow of two flickering candles, casting the rest of the house into darkness.

"Clare?" you called out, your voice echoing in the silence. No answer. You reached out to find the light switch, but there was no light when you clicked it.

"Clare's not home." a voice startled you from the shadows.

You felt relieved at the familiar voice, and for a moment, the intense emotions you were feeling were pushed aside. "Mason? What are you doing here?"

He stepped closer, the candlelight painting his features in a warm glow. "Been trying to reach you since last night." You remembered your phone, still charging on the nightstand. "Lily opened the door for me." You looked around for any sign of her and Mason could tell. "She's also not here. She left." Good, you thought. "She told me everything. About the video, the blackmail... Why didn't you tell me?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the image of his concerned face. "I'm so sorry," you choked out, the apology tumbling from your lips before you could stop it.

He reached out, his fingers gently cupping your cheeks. "Why are you apologizing?"

"I shouldn't have ended things with you." You confessed, your voice thick with regret. "It was Lily's mistake. But then they blackmailed me and I couldn't... I did it to protect her. I had to."

His eyes softened with understanding. "I know. I understand." He said, his voice gentle. "Hell, I would have done the same for my family." The tears came harder then, a torrent of relief and regret. He pulled you close, his embrace a safe place in the darkness. You missed his hugs. "Don't cry, please." He murmured, his fingers stroking your hair. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry." You murmured against his chest. "I broke your heart and you didn't deserve it."

"Stop that." He whispered. "Look, romantic dinner by candlelight wasn't exactly the plan, but the power's out, so..."

A choked laugh escaped your lips. "I missed you. Every single day." You admitted, the words tumbling out before you could hold them back any longer.

His smile, illuminated by the flickering candlelight, was the most beautiful thing you'd seen in days. "I missed you more." He confessed, his voice husky with emotion.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that tasted of forgiveness, relief, and a love that had never truly died. It was a slow, and tender kiss, filled with unspoken promises of a future where nothing, not blackmail, not family drama, would ever tear you apart again. As you pulled away, his hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear.

"No more goodbyes, okay?" He said, his voice firm with resolve. "We'll face everything together. Always." You nodded, a new strength blooming in your chest. No more running, no more hiding.

He leaned in once more, his eyes searching yours. "Mason?" You murmured. "I love you. I always did."

"I love you too. Since the first moment that I saw you." You locked your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. The future, with him by your side, was all that mattered now.

#football imagine #footballer imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x you #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #footballer x reader #mason mount

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 10 months

Note

Jeff Davis just ruined everything! Everything! Do you know if there's any fix-it fics yet!

AND

Anonymous asked:

Love your page! Can you recommend fix-it fics for the movie?

AND

angelofthetrenchcoats asked:

hii

do you know if there are any tw movie sterek fix it fics yet?

thanks❤️😂

“Take me back.” by Theo4thestars

(1/? I 979 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Stiles finds out Derek is dead. He’s hurt. He finds out Allison is alive. He’s never been more happy. He’s conflicted so he goes home.

we're all burning. by unholyturtle

(2/2 I 2,400 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles came home and Derek did not die.

Broken Things (It's Complicated) by PalenDrome (nerdherderette)

(1/1 I 3,880 I General I Sterek)

It's been fifteen years, and Derek still has feelings about that Jeep.

Crawling back to you by ads1008

(1/1 I 10,901 I General i Sterek)

Stiles gets a call from Eli that Derek has died. He runs home in time to be at the funeral where Eli barrels into him crying shaking like he is five years old again after a nightmare. Stiles holds him tight looking up at the pack he walked away from years ago. The ones that hurt him and his family too many times to count. His eyes landed on Scott, who looked sad and sorry. Stiles didn’t care for his pity. Rage boiled in him at just seeing his ex-best friend. The man that almost ruined everything for them 15 years ago but it looks like he already did. Stiles pulled Eli away, handing him off to his dad. Stiles walked over landing a hard punch to Scott’s temple.

“What did you do?” Stiles shouted.

Stiles knew he had to bring back the love of his life and the father of his son, with the help of Lydia and the rest of the gang. Stiles must fight one last demon of his own to bring Derek back. By doing so, secrets of the past fifteen years will be told. His young son, Eli, will know more about himself and his parents than either Stiles or Derek was ready to share.

We'll Take On The World by lookingforatardis

(1/1 I 26,000 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek grew quiet, eyes searching Stiles’ face. “It’s called True Mates.” “Do you think we…” he started, but cut himself off. He wasn’t sure he wanted an answer. “Maybe,” Derek nodded anyway, eyes cast down. Their hands were intertwined on the bed where they sat, and Stiles traced Derek’s knuckles with his fingers. “How would we know?” Derek sighed and leaned over to rest his head against Stiles’ shoulder. “There’s always a sign."

No More Martyr Bullsh*&t by Arieanna

(12/12 I 35,230 I Mature I Sterek)

Thank god someone had the brains to call him. Now he was running through the preserve to that stupid stump, hoping that he gets there before it's too late and he loses his reason for living.

"X" marks the spot by mmspring

(3/3 I 39,796 I General I Sterek)

"Please, bring my nephew back" Stiles stays silent for a second, before clearing his throat and speaking again. "Do you remember that time when you asked if someone in this town could stay dead?" he asks, and waits for the other man to confirm that he, indeed, remembers. "Well, let's hope the answer is still no".

Stiles has to save the day once again, but he doesn't want the recognition for it.

Nothing Ever Stays Dead by Violet_Michelle

(22/22 I 79,189 I Mature I Sterek)

Following Derek’s death, Eli took the Jeep and went to find the only person he thought could get his dad back.

Yoda Said It Best by OKDeanna, thePurebloodPrat

(21/21 I 99,128 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek Hale knows he as a problem. Contrary to what some might believe, he isn’t stupid. He knows the Jeep has meaning to him, real meaning. The kind of meaning that he doesn’t want to think about, let alone stop and have to analyze. Except… his son keeps pushing him about it, prodding at him, and then before Derek knows it, Stiles is back in Beacon Hills, driving the one thing in the world Derek wishes he never had to set eyes on again. If Derek isn’t careful, he could open himself up to a fall, and that would affect more than just his son but also his own traitorous heart. Because with Stiles back, Derek finally has hope again, and its making him want the things he knows better than to ever crave: a home, a future, a life—love.

One-Sentence Premise: To find the happiness they both crave, a lonely stressed-out single dad and a disillusioned FBI agent must confront their shared past and accept the feelings that have always existed between them.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #dad!derek #bamf!stiles #anon

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word-wytch · 2 years

Text

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 11

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 11/? 5.2k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Parent teacher conferences and long forgotten stories uncover worlds beneath.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: stories within stories, high fantasy, discussion of childhood hardship, implied spousal abuse, parent death mention, drug use mention, heavy angst

Friday, November 15th 1985

Eddie was lost in another world.

He was floating actually. High above the clouds, not that he could see them. He wished he could but the empty crate he had stolen away in was the only thing shielding him from the suspicious eyes of the merchants aboard the zeppelin. His heart pounded as the wind carried him further than he’d ever been from the only place he’d ever known — the isolated Cloud Kingdom of Myrne. High atop a mountain range. A city of gold, gleaming like a beacon in the sun.

His back ached against the stiff wood rocking him like a cradle. He was lucky to be small enough to fit. Lucky that he had just enough space to shed his silk coat to use as padding. If he laid just right he could even stretch his legs toward the ceiling to relieve the cramps that threatened his claves.

He would have to ration the dried boar’s meat and meager flask of water that he’d stashed away in his knapsack. There wasn’t space for very much, and he needed the precious real estate for not only clothing, but the jars of herbs and poultices to stave off the illnesses he was so susceptible to.

That was why he — or, Lady Cybelle rather, ended up here in the first place. See, there was something she needed from the world beneath. Desperately. Her brother did anyway. A rare, translucent plant called a ghostfern found only in the depths of certain caves. It was a known cure for his equally rare illness, or at least that’s what she read during her herbalism studies. Much like Eddie, all she knew of the world beneath was what she read about.

Cybelle begged the high council to send for it. To send scouts to collect it. But they refused, unwilling to risk the safety of the collective for the life of just one. There was always a risk involved in the leaving and returning of Myrnish people. A risk to contract and spread more illness that threatened the lives of them all.

Cybelle was crafty though, and equally determined. She’d fashioned a mask out of moth silk with a pocket for illness-staving herbs. She would need it when the zeppelin finally landed in Torgaard. When she figured her way out of this crate without being spotted. When she set foot, for the first time, on the land she only caught a glimpse of when the clouds beneath her parted.

Eddie had grown rather fond of Cybelle. He’d been spending every evening with her since Wednesday. Ever since you handed him your world in a black three ring binder — Worlds Beneath.

It was intimate, reading your work. As if he could read between the lines and observe the way your mind worked. The way your phrasing flowed. Your choice of words. As if part of you was there within the pages. The hidden part of you.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was as captivated as he was impressed. He supposed after watching you analyze literature on a daily basis that it would be more… literary. More serious. Less fantastical. But this was beyond anything he could have anticipated.

There was a secret world in you. He would catch glimpses of it sometimes when you laughed. It would peek around the mask you wore like a curious child when he talked about elves and magic. He could hear its quiet voice becoming braver.

He was there now, inside of it. Crammed inside a crate aboard a zeppelin. You had a way of doing that, he noticed. Taking him there. Making him feel the wooden crate against his spine. The stuffy air in the close darkness around him. The fear twinged with excitement. It was a sort of magic you possessed.

He could feel it outside the pages too. The gentle burning in your fingertips, even when you pulled away. Especially when you pulled away. The quiet wanting of it all.

He wondered how often you went there, to the secret world in you. Did you drift there as you glided down the hallway? Would you hide there when the real world was too much?

He wondered how many people saw it. How many others you let in.

He wondered if he stayed there long enough, set up camp and looked around, if he would find himself there too.

______

You fixed your hair as you checked your reflection in the faculty bathroom mirror. The old light bathed everything in a yellow wash. It made your skin look as tired as you felt. You picked lint off the black blazer you pulled from the back of your closet this morning. The one with the shoulder pads. Professional, right? It made you look bigger than you felt. Perhaps parents would take you seriously if you looked like you belonged behind the desk.

There were some perks to in-service days. No classroom to manage. You got to come in at noon instead of 7:30 am. Got to be the one listening to a lecture instead of giving one. The only downside was having to stay until 7:30 pm. That and trying your best not to cry when a parent inevitably got defensive. You always looked for something nice to say about all of your students. It softened the less savory news, if there was any. More often than not it was just making small talk, telling parents what a pleasure their child was to have in class.

The heels of your shoes clicked down the empty hallway, past the trophy cases filled with plaques of names you still recognized. You caught the ghost of your reflection in the glass, the angular silhouette of the costume that you wore. You noticed your tight pencil skirt riding up in the back and you corrected it with a downward tug, keeping on the straight and narrow path toward the teachers lounge.

The wood paneled walls welcomed you in, and you padded across the old carpet toward the open boxes of pizza laid out on one of the three round tables. You grabbed a paper plate and pulled a few slices of pepperoni from the large, square cut sheet, the cheese already hard from sitting out. You rarely complained, and this time was no exception. Your stomach was threatening to eat itself and lukewarm pizza more than fit the bill.

You took a bite to satiate your blood sugar and made your way to the coffee station for the third time that day. Grabbing a mug from the stack, your fingers grazed the faded lettering that vaguely resembled the Chief’s Auto Repairs logo. You glanced at the clock as you filled it with your liquid vice. It was 2:37, which meant you had approximately twenty-three minutes before you had to be posted at your station. Your stomach churned, and not from the pizza.

“Boo,” came a gentle whisper from behind you.

Your hand jerked, sloshing coffee all over the wood veneer.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” Diane apologized, making haste to grab a generous handful of square napkins from beside the sugar. Her bright red nail polish glinted under the fluorescents as she blotted up the mess.

You put a hand to your chest. “No, no it’s ok,” you sighed, grabbing a napkin to wipe the bottom of your mug. “It’s good to see you, honestly. I didn’t think I would.”

“Yeah, I still have quite a few notes to catch up on. Just because I’m not a teacher doesn’t mean I’m off the hook,” she said with a wink. “What was the seminar about this time?” She tossed the napkins into the trash at the end of the table.

“Oh, just the usual stuff. Classroom management, how to have better boundaries with students, you know, hah.” Knots twisted in your stomach as you leaned against the counter, grabbing a milk carton and tipping it over your mug.

Diane hummed, eyes fixed on your generous pour threatening to overflow the coffee from the rim. “Sounds riveting.”

“Oh yes, enthralling,” you said, folding the mushy lip of the carton back in on itself, something to do with your hands to keep them from shaking. The coffee probably wasn’t going to help.

Diane’s eyes narrowed, “Are you… ok?”

“Me? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. I’m just uh,” you tapped your finger on the edge of your mug. “Parent teacher conference day nerves, you know.”

“Ugh, I can only imagine. I hope everyone is nice to you today. I have no idea why they wouldn’t be.”

You offered a shaky chuckle. “Yeah, me neither. Just getting in my own head I guess.”

“Love the blazer, by the way. Super sharp.”

“Oh, thanks. Figured I’d dress the part.” Grabbing your plate of pizza in one hand and very full mug in the other, you took a sip off the top, marking the rim with a delicate red blot. You pulled out one of the old chairs and found your place in it, which your feet were thankful for.

Diane leaned against the table, “So, Darren called last night.”

“Oh, you’re still talking to him?” The sauce squeezed out from the corners of your bite as you sunk your teeth into the hard cheese and gummy crust.

“Yeah, a bit. Off and on. He’s a nice guy. Does stuff for his sister and her kids lot, which I feel like is a good sign, right?”

Your brows raised a little. “Yeah, totally a good sign,” you said through a mouthful.

“He invited me to the Colts game this weekend. I think I’m gonna go.”

You blotted the sauce from your lips. “Really? I thought you said he wasn’t your type.”

“I mean, what is a type anyway? If I keep waiting around for my type I might be waiting forever. I’ve gotta just start putting myself out there, you know? Give guys the benefit of the doubt for once. You never know until you try,” Diane offered as she opened up the large box of sheet pizza and ripped off two slices onto her plate.

You huffed through your nose, “Sometimes you know.”

“I mean, yeah. Sometimes, but with this one, I dunno. I mean we do have some things in common. We both like Saturday Night Live and spending time outside. He’s decently attractive, or he was at Mojo’s anyway,” she chuckled. “We’ll see what he’s like off the phone. At the very least it’s something to do, right?”

You swallowed your bite. “Right. I mean, hey, free entertainment I guess.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Diane as she settled into the seat beside you.

______

The phone was ringing. Shrill and deeply annoying as it echoed through the trailer. Eddie sighed and pulled himself away from your world in his lap, his expression blank and perturbed. He thought for a moment about answering it. About putting an end to the intrusive noise, but that would mean getting up from the toasty blanket cocoon he’d wrapped his legs in, like a warm pretzel. November’s creeping chill was doing nothing to help his motivation to leave it.

So he let it ring. And ring. Until finally the answering machine picked up, coloring the voice that came through in static and tin.

“Hey man, it’s Gareth. Um… I’m kinda freaking out about this date tomorrow. I know you’re probably just gonna tell me to stop being a pussy, but uh… yeah. Call me back.”

Eddie smirked and rolled his eyes. His friend knew him so well. There would be plenty of time to tell Gareth exactly what he needed to hear. That he was, in fact, being a total pussy. Later though. Right now he was busy.

He was a man named Lazarus now. The Amazing Lazarus, formally. And he had a full time job shuffling cards and making purses disappear.

The small crowd that gathered around him didn’t know that though. Not in this city anyway. He was certain he hadn’t seen any… artistic interpretations of his face plastered on any of the buildings in Torgaard. Yet.

If he could be quick enough with his hands they wouldn’t even notice what was missing until they were blocks away, and by then he would have long since packed up his banner and left.

“Is this your card?” he flourished to the unfortunate man who had stepped forward from the crescent crowd.

The man squinted. “No I don’t think it is.”

“Ah,” he answered curtly. “Oh, what’s this?” He feigned surprised, reaching forward to dip his fingers into the man’s pocket. He pulled back with another flourish. “Is this your card?”

“Why it is!”

Cheers and claps erupted from the crowd. Lazarus took a bow. “Thank you, thank you.” He took off his weathered top hat and passed it around to collect any loose change that the crowd was eager to get rid of.

The people dispersed as quickly as they came, leaving him alone. He reached into the hidden pocket beneath his leather glove and extracted a small pouch. And now, for the even bigger reveal.

He dipped his finger into the opening and loosened the draw strings to reveal a few spare coins and…

Another pocket watch.

It was almost like everyone carried them around in their pockets. Dull and predictable, and practically worthless to him. He sighed, wondering how long it would be before he actually made his trade worth his time today.

That’s when he spotted her — the strangest person he’d seen all day. Maybe all year. Maybe in his entire life, and he’d seen a lot of people.

The first thing he noticed was her shock of white hair, cropped in a bob with bangs like a toddler. She toddled like one too. Petite and girlish. Flat boots with curled toes flapping like duck feet against the dirty cobblestone. Deeply unstable. Crinkled gold coat gleaming like a beacon in the sun.

But the real clincher was the mask she wore. A big crescent moon that swept across her round face. Strange and alien. Stark against deep copper skin. Eyes like saucers.

The perfect target.

He strolled up to her, and her enormous eyes drank him in like they were parched.

“Hey, you look like the type of person who might appreciate a magic trick.”

She looked up at him, chin lowering beneath her mask. “A… a magic trick?”

He couldn’t place the accent.

“Oh yes,” he said, shuffling his cards in an arch from one hand to the other. “Have you ever seen a magic trick before?”

It was a silly question to be asking someone who looked like they’d never seen a man before.

“Oh, um. I do not think so,” she said, her flat silk boots stumbling across the cobblestone to regain her footing. “Sorry I am a little, uh… it is like the air here is just so… different.”

Lazarus stopped shuffling. “Different? Different how? Different from where?”

She looked around, out past the zeppelin docks toward the horizon. She pointed toward the sky. “Myrne.”

“Really,” he half whispered. In all his travels he had never seen a Myrnish person before. He had only ever heard about them from others and what little they knew secondhand of their isolated culture.

“The air…it is just… thicker,” she said between breaths. “Sorry. I am quite dizzy.”

He took a step closer. Close enough to assess that there were no pockets to be found on her strange garments, but there was something else that excited him much more. An obelisk of glimmering pale gold that dangled from her neck. Worth a small fortune, at least.

The gold found in the mines of Mount Myrne was different from any other precious metal in the world. It was found only there, and unlike common gold, was very hard. It sparkled rather than shined, and most importantly possessed an energy that could be harnessed. Like magic.

The gnomes would use it to power their inventions. It didn’t take much of it to make a moderate machine come alive. A piece this size could surely afford him a permanent home, and then some. No more hiding his caravan outside cities. No more paying for stables or worrying about wolves making a meal of his horse.

He could picture it now. A little cottage in Shantiglade by the sea. He would wake up to a full body stretch in a real bed. He would fix himself a goose egg omelet over a real stove with peppers from his garden. He would open his windows and taste the fresh brine in the air.

He would stroll leisurely to the beach where no one knew his face. Where the tide would kiss his ankles and wash away his footprints. Where his past couldn’t follow him.

The pendant winked in the sunlight. She was so small. He could easily break the chain from around her neck with a single tug and run.

“So, what brings you all the way down here?” He drew closer, unable to tear his eyes from the shimmering treasure.

She stepped back in time with his advance, like a dance, adjusting the mask on her face with hesitant eyes.

“I am looking for ghostfern.”

“You’ve come a long way for a plant, my dear.” Another step forward.

Another step back. “My brother needs it. He will die without it.”

It was a look he’d seen before. Desperation twinged with hope. He’d seen it in his own reflection more times than he cared to admit. He saw it in his mother too, though the hope faded almost as quickly as she did when the cost of the cure was too great.

She lowered her gaze. “Ghostfern is very rare. None of our merchants carry it, though I hear it can be found in caves outside of Rower’s End, but I do not know how to get there.”

Rare, expensive — what difference did it make when it was out of reach?

“That’s a long ways off,” he offered solemnly. It was deep into the boglands and nary a merchant dared to venture along the thin, winding path to Rower’s End. The rumors of sinister creatures and bog crone hexes were enough to keep them away.

The strange young woman seemed unfazed by this. “Have you been there before?”

Lazarus huffed. “No, I but I do know how to get there.” The gold obelisk winked at him again and he stilled his itching hands. “How about I uh… make you a deal?”

“A deal?”

“Yes, a deal. I take you to Rower’s End in exchange for that pendant you’re wearing.”

She sized him up, the gears turning behind her enormous, chestnut spheres. “You will take me back then too? To Torgaard?”

Lazarus nodded firmly, “Of course.”

Her eyes crinkled, sparkled like the obelisk she wore. “Then it is a deal.”

“Excellent,” smirked Lazarus. “Ah, what is your name, by the way?”

“Cybelle.” Certainly one he hadn’t heard before.

“Lazarus, pleasure to be doing business with you.” He extended his hand.

Cybelle cocked her head, studying his open palm hovering in the space between them like a foreign object.

“Uh, you — you shake it. See? Like this.” He demonstrated awkwardly with his other hand, then presented her with the opportunity again. “Now you try.”

Cybelle stared at his hand. Her fingers twitched, gaze darting from his palm to his eyes. “Ah… sorry.” She put her hands up sheepishly, waving his away. “Trying not to get sick.”

Lazarus retracted his hand and gave a single, solemn nod. “As you wish.”

______

Your eyes tracked down your list of parent names, then up at the clock. It was 6:45 on the dot. The last name on your list was scheduled at 6:40.

There was a part of you that hoped he wouldn’t show at all. The churning in your stomach was kicking up with each minute that ticked by, anxious eyes flitting from the paper, to the door, to the clock.

Until suddenly a figure appeared in the doorway. He was tall, weathered, with a short grey beard. Hair even shorter, stark against the ruddy skin that it encircled atop his head. He wore a denim jacket with a corduroy collar and olive green work slacks stained with patches of grease.

He peered around your classroom tentatively, as if looking for a sign that he found the right one. “Hi, Wayne Munson." It sounded like more of a question.

You stood up from behind your desk with a jolt. “Oh, hi! You must be Eddie’s dad.” Knots twisted in your stomach. You extended your hand to him and put on the warmest, brightest mask you could muster.

“Uncle, actually.” His hand was rough and thickly calloused, fingers stained from nicotine. You could smell the stale scent of his vice on him, a family habit, evidently. “Sorry ’m a little late. Still a bit early for me, I work the graveyard at the plant.”

Uncle. The questions bubbled in your gut but there was no place to air them in the split second between you. “Oh that’s no problem, you’re last on my list today anyway. Here, have a seat.” You gestured to the chair opposite yours at your desk.

Your desk. The same desk his nephew held your hand under. Your stomach churned again.

As Wayne eased himself into the small, wooden chair, you allowed your timid eyes enough agency to take stock. There was a weight to him, not in his body but in his aura. A heaviness that you could feel. Tired stories you strained to read between the lines on his face, stained into the cracks of his fingers. You would search for the resemblance to the one you saw most often in that chair. You would find very little save for their strong oval faces and the warmth that surprised you in his ice blue eyes.

Wayne sighed, deep and heavy as he creaked back into the chair. “Alright, how’s Ed doing in class?” he asked flatly.

There was something else in his eyes, leaden like defeat. Like bracing steel. Like tired expectation.

He might as well have said, “Let’s get this over with.” It was the same tune. A tune he memorized. Sung a thousand times. A tune his voice was tired of.

“Eddie is…” a soft smile crept onto your face and you suddenly became captivated with the pen on your desk. You felt him lean forward, hinging on the words you left hanging in the air.

And so you told him the truth.

“…one of the most creative and tenacious people I know.”

There was a breath that he’d been holding in, a sigh that permeated the stunned stillness between you.

“I know it isn’t easy for him to be here. I know he’d rather be doing a million other things but he’s still here, you know? Despite being denied graduation twice.”

He knew. You could see it as clearly as the lines that softened on his forehead.

“I mean sure, I could tell you that he’s got a B minus in my class right now. We could sit here and talk about grades, and attendance, and behavior, but… he’s trying really hard and I don’t think that you can… quantify that. There aren’t grades for effort. They don’t give marks for how many lonely students you offer a place to sit in the cafeteria. It isn’t something you can measure.”

Wayne leaned closer, the ice in his eyes melting so much that he needed to blink it away.

The sight stirred a deep part of you. The easing of the bracing steel into something so much softer. Tender like a bruise. You thought about Eddie Munson with pen on his hand and shame in his eyes. Your nose burned.

“You know he’s got a lot of leadership qualities too,” you said, steadying the quiver from your voice. “He’s in a band, he runs a club. He’s involved and engaged. He’s…” your eyes lowered again, thumbing at the pen on your desk. “He’s got an enormous heart,” you said, quieter. “I think he’s just… extraordinary. If you want to know the truth.”

Wayne glanced away, toward the windows, as he swiped a calloused finger at his cheek. “M’sorry,” he muttered, blinking. “Y’know I’ve been goin’ to these for the past, what is it… nine years now? Nobody ever has nothin’ good to say about ‘im. Not a single one.”

An ache sank deep in your chest. It stung, like your eyes did when you imagined the younger versions of the man who took that chair most often, and those of the one in it now. Sitting in front of the big desk. Facing someone who was far less kind than you on the other side.

“You’re the one who’s been tutoring ‘im, aren’t you?”

You swallowed, stomach churning again. You figured he’d mentioned that. It would have been strange for him not to. “Yes. A few times a week after school. It seems to be helping. He showed me his progress report, all passing grades so far. He’s gonna walk that stage this year. He will if I have anything to do about it.”

Wayne cracked a smile at your determination. “Well thank you kindly for all your patience. I mean it. The boy’s always struggled in school. Been an issue even ‘fore I had ‘im.”

“What happened before you had him?” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you even had a moment to process whether they were appropriate or not. Whether it was your place to ask.

Wayne sighed deep as his weathered hand eased the exhaustion creasing his brow. “My younger bother is… really somethin’ else to put it mildly. Always has been. He’s in county now doin’ time for stealin’ cars and other petty shit— sorry, young lady, pardon my French.”

You shook your head and waved it off, the humor of his comment overshadowed by the concern twisting in your stomach. “It’s fine, really. Please continue.”

“Ed’s mom on the other hand, well she had ‘er own problems but not like him. Actually, I recon Warren was the biggest problem she ever had. Real young when she had Ed, maybe 19, if even. ’S hard to remember. Younger than Warren was, I know that much. We were all still livin’ in West Virginia at the time. A few years after that Warren got in hot water with the law. Packed up Lorena and the baby and settled in Hawkins with a few gamblin’ buddies he’d met from out this way.”

A twist, deep in your heart. You swallowed, leaning forward.

“Well, Warren managed to find some stable employment fixin’ cars. Stayed out of trouble for a few more years. Then Lorena started gettin’ sick. Always had issues with her heart, see. I don’t think the stress of livin’ out here with Warren helped none. I seen the way he’d talk to her when I would visit, always so suspicious of every damn thing.”

Your chest was so tight all of a sudden. Head filled with flashes of images you’d never seen. Images that you could feel. A woman in a cotton dress looking out a window. A profound loneliness. A longing for a freedom she may never know.

“When Warren started gettin’ into trouble again I knew I had to do something, for Ed and Lori’s sake. They put ‘im away for a year that time, so I packed it up and moved out here. It was a good year. Gave us all a break from my brother. Sorry to go on a tangent, it’s just been a lot.” Wayne sighed deeply, smoothing his beard with his hand.

“No, no you’re fine,” you reassured, putting on your best mask for him. Behind it you were breaking.

“He was worse when he came back though. Started gettin’ into drugs. Few years after that, Lori passed due to her heart. Ed was ten at the time. I shouldn’t have let the bastard have him at all, but he was stubborn as hell and he had custody. Had ‘im for a year before he finally messed up bad enough to go away for a long while. Best thing he ever did was go to jail, I’ll tell you what.”

“I—,” you took a deep breath, the pen on the desk so enthralling again, “I’m sorry, this is… I wasn’t, um, expecting—”

“No I’m… sorry to dump all this on you. Don’t get many people who wanna listen to be honest.”

“No, it’s really ok. I’m the one who asked. It’s just…”

“I know. Kid’s had it rough, to put it mildly.”

You took a slow, shaky inhale to steady yourself and found the courage to meet his eyes again. “He’s incredibly lucky to have you,” you said earnestly.

The ice in his eyes melted again. The steel now soft and pliant. The weight in him less heavy.

“You’ve done such a good job raising him,” you offered gently, swallowing your tears. “Really, he’s a wonderful person. You should be so proud.”

Wayne sighed, allowing a full, bright smile to wash over him. He blinked quickly, glancing toward the windows again, and you wondered how often he heard that. If he ever did before.

“Thank you,” he said, barely audible.

It was strange, your sudden fondness for a man you dreaded meeting.

“I should be thanking you. For sharing. For everything,” you said, stilling the quiver in your chest with a deep breath. “I think that’s all I really have for you today.” Your trembling hands gripped the chair beneath you.

Wayne nodded, “I’m glad I came. For once.”

You smiled, big and bright. “I’m glad you did too.” You extended your hand, your open palm hovering in the space between you. “It’s been an honor to meet you.”

Wayne’s warm, calloused hand bridged the great divide and squeezed yours gently. Lingered for a moment. “You as well,” he said, a fondness you could feel in his touch. He gave a firm shake before letting go.

“Have a great rest of your day,” you said with mustered cheer as he creaked out of the wooden chair.

“You as well,” he said with a wave as he made his way toward the door. His footsteps faded beyond the threshold, into the din of the hallway.

A deep, ragged sigh escaped you.

You thought about Eddie Munson again. Thought about his oval face and big brown eyes. Thought about them smaller. In a hospital. Filled with unspeakable sadness. Sitting in the emptiness she left behind. At home by himself drawing dragons on his pages. Fighting a monster in his living room.

Eddie Munson. With pen on his hand and shame in his eyes.

There was hope in them too. Unbreakable. Eager and wild. Restless, and frenetic, and warm.

All at once.

It surfaced then. The strangled sob that released from your chest. It echoed off the tile floor and concrete walls that would still surround you both.

______

A/N: Apologies for how angsty that was. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it though, lots to explore in these new worlds we're uncovering ;)

As always, I deeply appreciate any and all comments -- keyboard smashes, theories, small novels, all of it. I work very hard on this story and hearing your reactions fuels me in ways that I can only begin to tell you.

Please reblog and help others to find my precious creation! ✨

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #don't stand so close to me

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nycbabyjoey · 11 months

Text

Jinkies!

NSFW 18+ Only

Contains ABDL Content

"Jeepers," Daphne exclaimed as she approached the run-down spooky building. "This place is giving me the willies."

"No one said solving this mystery would be for the faint of heart," Velma replied. "But a series of spooky disappearances in a historically haunted town just before Halloween is nothing we can't handle."

Velma and Daphne stood shoulder to shoulder outside the Mystery Machine with their flashlights armed. Mystery Incorporated had gotten a tip a few days ago about tourists going missing in the Halloween destination town of Yawning Creek, Massachusetts.

"The town gets an influx of tourism around Halloween because of the Legend of Yawning Creek," Velma had explained to the gang.

"Zoinks!" Shaggy quivered. "Is that, like, the story where that scary monster hypnotizes people to walk in the creek where they're, like, never heard from again?!"

"The very same," Velma had responded, ambivalent to Shaggy's usual fright towards any mystery that came across their desks.

It was part of the dynamic that had lead to Mystery Incorporated's overwhelming success rate of solving mysteries over the past couple of years and made them world-renowned crime stoppers. Velma was the brains behind the group, analyzing details, collecting clues, and piecing it all together to unmask the supposed "monster" as just another average person with a grievance. Daphne brought the beauty, which allowed her to get accustomed with people, discover their motives, get kidnapped... only sometimes, and help the crew trap the culprit.

The others contributed as well, but it was Velma and Daphne's strong chemistry that landed the two of them here in front of the abandoned building, following a lead they had picked up from the town historian about the disappearances.

Who could've done it? Was it Mayor Bushwell in an effort to stir even more tourism to Yawning Creek in a sick ploy for reelection? Could it be Sheriff Walker, frustrated at the surge of Halloween mischief that the town's spooky origins attracted? Or maybe even the town historian himself, Old Man Jenkins, sending the girls on a wild goose chase so that they didn't catch on to his scheme to show people the true horrors of the town's capitalized-upon history?

The pair hoped that the answers to where these missing people were could be found here - the abandoned Yawning Creek Daycare Center. It was certainly a peculiar crime scene, Velma thought. But she couldn't afford to leave one stone unturned.

"Let's split up," Daphne suggested.

"Good idea," Velma said. "That way, we can cover more ground. Try not to get kidnapped again."

"Hardy-har," Daphne mocked back.

The two went their separate ways once inside the daycare. Velma went right at the reception area and Daphne turned left.

Velma opened the door to discover a large classroom setting that she suspected could fit nearly twenty students. It was quite a big space for a preschool classroom, fitted with shared tables for all the students, a play area with a chest stuffed full of toys like firetrucks and building blocks, and a reading carpet with shelves of childrens' books behind it. Velma always had an interest in reading, even at that young age. She reminisced about sitting criss-cross applesauce on the carpet and listening to her teacher reading The Rainbow Fish for the class, stopping after each page to show all the pictures.

Velma snapped out of her nostalgic thoughts. It was all very nice, but what did any of this have to do with the missing townspeople? A vengeful mother seeking revenge for the city's decreasing options for childcare? Seems farfetched, Velma figured. I have to look for more clues.

As she made a quick motion to reinspect the classroom, Velma accidentally stumbled on an old-fashioned Farm Animal Noises Wheel, which made a sustained "Mooo!" sound, as she fell to the ground. She caught herself on her two hands and her glasses flew off, sliding across the floor to an unknown destination.

"Oh no, my glasses!" Velma bemoaned. "I can't see a thing without my glasses!"

Velma began crawling on all floors around the Pre-K classroom, attempting to feel out for her spectacles. As she felt around, she grabbed something that felt like a small wooden box. She pulled it close to her face so she could make it out with her poor vision. It was a shape-sorter toy! The one where you had to fit the different shaped pegs in the correct holes. Velma used to love them when she was a tyke! Testing her geometrical knowledge and sharpening her brain was a treat to her at that age.

Velma indulged in her nostalgia by picking up one of the square pegs and placing it in the... wait, which hole did it go in again? Velma sat on the playmat, dumbfounded as she was unable to think of the correct option. She was a genius, after all! After a moment, she tried to jam it through a circle-shaped hole, but it didn't work. She went back to her train of confusion, not noticing as a stream of drool flowed from the side of her mouth onto her bright, orange sweater.

Suddenly, Velma's vision returned as a pair of foreign hands placed her glasses onto her face for her.

"Don't worry," the person said. "You don't have to worry about thinking anymore."

Meanwhile, Daphne searched what appeared to be the infant care area. There were large changing tables and shelves full of fresh diapers. Daphne gagged at the thought of having to change diapers. Gross!

Daphne was not the one to get her hands dirty, literally or metaphorically. Even for Mystery Inc., she wasn't the one collecting clues or putting all the puzzle pieces together; that was Velma. Daphne had the people skills to balance out Velma's analytical mind.

In this abandoned daycare, those skills may not have come in handy as much, Daphne thought to herself. There was no one here and even if they're were toddlers abound, she doubted it would make for rousing conversation.

It was these isolated situations where Daphne usually found herself being kidnapped - a typical damsel in distress. But, Daphne knew she was more than that and so she was sure to be checking every corner for anyone or anything that may be lurking.

She made her way towards a sleeping area where the little ones could be tucked in for naptime. However, a realization hit Daphne - these cribs weren't that little. In fact, they were pretty large! Large enough for Daphne herself to fit in. That must be a clue, Daphne figured. She had found a clue! And not gotten kidnapped! She almost couldn't wait to go share with Velma.

Unfortunately, Daphne celebrated far too early as, all of a sudden, a pair of ropes sprung out from amidst the darkness and wrapped themselves around Daphne's hands and feet, causing her to fall to the ground.

"Eep!" Daphne shouted as she hit the cushioned floor. With a thud, Daphne began to scream, "Velmaahhh-" Her cries for help were cut short by a piece of thick, black tape that came out of nowhere and covered up her mouth.

Daphne thrashed around on the ground while her yells were muffled.

"That's a lovely outfit," a voice said from the darkness, causing Daphne to pause in fear. "But I think it's time for a change."

Daphne's eyes widened as her clothes were magically ripped off her body one by one. First, her iconic long-sleeved purple dress flew forward after tearing at the back. She felt her bra magically unclasp at the back before it flew off into the darkness, followed by her panties. She was left completely exposed by the undressing, which ended with her lime-green scarf being pulled from her neck.

Daphne screamed as the invisible force yanked on her hair, pulling her to an upright sitting position. She tried moving her head around to escape the magic's grasp, but she was helpless as it began tying and knotting her hair. Daphne couldn't make out what it was doing until the pulling stopped and two pigtails fell down on either side of her head.

Suddenly, Daphne found herself laid with her back flat against the floor again as the mysterious force grabbed her feet and pushed them up towards her head, laying her ass bare for anyone who came through the door. She felt as something was slipped under it, but she was unable to lift her head high enough to make out what it was. It felt a little like medical exam table paper on Daphne's butt, but it was thicker. Daphne squealed as her legs were dropped and the rope binding them was undone so that the strange object could be folded up in between her legs. As it was fastened together on either side of her hips, Daphne realized what it was - it was a large diaper!

Finally, the rope that was shackling Daphne's hands and the muzzle that was constricting her mouth fell to the ground. "WHAT THE FU-" Daphne shrieked with tears in her eyes, but as her mouth was open a large pink pacifier flew inside, silencing her once again.

The magic force dragged Daphne by the legs out of the sleeping area and back towards the daycare. Daphne desperately dug her nails into the carpet in an attempt to fight back, but the force was too strong and she wailed as her body was tugged back through the door.

Once she was through the door and the force let go, she turned her body over and immediately spotted Velma. Daphne would have ordinarily been humiliated with her situation - this was certainly the worst kidnapping she had found herself in yet - but she realized Velma was also dressed like a giant baby! Her orange jumper and glasses were missing, leaving her in only a diaper and pigtails. Velma had no pacifier though; in fact, she drooled from her mouth with a vacant expression in her eyes. "Dafdee!" Velma celebrated with her arms raised high in the air at the sight of her friend Daphne.

"Velma?" Daphne managed past her pacifier. "Wha happen'd to-"

Daphne's inquiry was cut short as a figure came out of the darkness behind Velma. "Forn?" Daphne managed.

It was Thorn, the friendly rocker witch from Oakhaven. "Surprised, Daphne?"

"Forn, wha aw you doin'?" Daphne lisped her way through.

Thorn used her magic to pull Daphne's pacifier into her hand at a speed so fast it made an audible pop exiting Daphne's mouth.

"Sorry baby, I didn't quite catch that," Thorn teased. "Try annunciating."

"Thorn!" Daphne yelled in frustration. "Why'd you dress us like babies? We're your friends!"

"Fwiends! Fwiends!" Velma cheered, mindlessly clapping her hands together while bouncing up and down on her padded bottom.

"Friends?" Thorn questioned in disgust. "Ugh, classic Daphne. So sure that everyone must absolutely love you! We did get along long enough to stop The Witch's Ghost, entirely thanks to me! But I'm guessing you don't even remember what you said to me after that, do you?"

Daphne shook her head.

"Really? When I asked to join Mystery, Inc.?" Thorn recalled. "You and Velma laughed in my face, saying that there wasn't room for another girl on the team. You guys boasted about how you had the 'brains' and the 'looks' covered and that I had neither to offer. You told me to go run along and play with my 'little band.'"

Daphne was stunned. "Thorn, that's not how we meant it. You took it the wrong way! Besides, you lead innocent visitors to their demise just because of some stupid vendetta against us?"

Thorn cackled. "Nobody's missing!" she revealed. "See, if you and Velma were as clever as you think you are, you would have investigated to see if anyone had gone missing instead of blindly believing some anonymous tip!"

"That was you?!" Daphne realized, eyes wide. Thorn nodded her head with a grin.

"So now you're going to transform me into some mindless bimbo like her?" Daphne cried, gesturing towards Velma who was unintelligibly making noises with her mouth like "buhbuhbuh" while rolling around on the floor in her diaper.

Thorn laughed again. "Oh Daphne, don't give yourself so much credit. I took away Velma's 'brains', but you - you already have about a grade school reading level. There's barely any 'brains' to take! No, you were the 'looks,' weren't you? Always loving your cute little outfits and believing that being the team slut was actually important to solving mysteries! You'll be in only one outfit from now on - your diaper. My spell makes it so you can't wear anything else. And you won't be able to remove it yourself."

Daphne fumed, both at the accusation that she was stupid and at the prospect of toddling around in thick diapers for the rest of her life! She pulled at the tapes, trying to rip them off to no avail.

"It's not a total loss," Thorn mocked. "You'll still be able to accessorize! They make lots of cute diapers with fairy princesses or unicorns or mermaids on them! We'll see how many men are fawning over you in that getup! I'm sure Fred will find it so hot when you tug on his ascot and ask him to change your stinky diaper!"

Tears ran down Daphne's face. "You can't do this! You ca-" Daphne was once again interrupted by the large pacifier flying into her mouth.

"That's better," Thorn said. "Now, one last spell."

Thorn snapped her fingers and Daphne immediately felt her stomach rumble. She grasped it, clenching every muscle in her body to block what was about to happen. She heard a fart escape Velma's diaper, followed by a giggle. Her counterpart was blissfully content with the spell's effects and didn't fight them, audibly unloading a mess in the backseat of her diaper. Daphne's face turned red from strain, praying to avoid the same fate. But at long last, Daphne couldn't take it and destroyed her diaper, filling it from front to back with liquid mush.

"Oh, how cute!" Thorn derided. "It smells like you babies left me two clues! Now, you two are going to change each others' dirty diapers after a quick game of 'humpies'. Then, I'll bring you two back to Shaggy and Fred where we'll introduce them to the newest member of Mystery, Inc. - me! My crime-solving intuition suspects that there may be a spot for a girl on the team after all. Even if that spot involves changing diapers and warming up bottles for this dynamic diaper duo!"

I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids and your Patreon!

#ab/dl #diaper caption #ab/dl caption #diaper humiliation #ab/dl girl #ab/dl fiction #ab/dl story #ab/dl story time #ab/dl babygirl

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