foxgloveprincess - Tumblr blog

foxgloveprincess · 20 hours

Text

Don't Speak 41

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: powering through.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. You peel it away as Dr. Kemp’s gravelly timbre tickles you. A tremor flows through you. You can barely think as your mind centers on the feeling of his hand on your knee. Firm but gentle, exactly how you imagined it.

“...and…” you quiver out a breath, “we’re laying down. You… you have your arms around me,” you squeeze your eyes tighter, embarrassed as you describe your sacred fantasy, “and my hands are on your chest and…”

“Mhmm,” he hums in encouragement, his thumb rubbing through the thin stocking.

“And we’re kissing,” you have to hold back a giggle. You’re all bubbly as you get closer and closer to the good part. To the scary part. “And… and–andddddd…” you warble, trying to keep control, “we’re naked!”

You clap your hands over your mouth and open your eyes. You bat your lashes at him. You curl your fingers and press your fingernails into your lower lip.

“What else happens?” He asks.

You feel dizzy, but not like earlier. Not weak, almost enlivened. Thrilled at your own unraveling.

“And you touch me…” you lower your chin, “here,” you drop your hands just over your chest, “and…” you point with a single finger to your lap, “down there.”

He nods and leans forward, his hand caressing above your knee now. You squirm but don’t pull away. You don’t want him to stop.

“With my hands?” He wonders.

You gulp and laugh again, “with what else?”

“Well… doesn’t… I could use my mouth, right?”

You flinch as you clutch your hands together, “only… only in the fantasy. Yes.”

“Yes, obviously,” he agrees, "so, in your fantasy, do I?”

You chew your lip and twist your fingers. You nod.

“And you enjoy it?”

Your head bops up and down vigorously.

“And next? Do I… do more?”

You squeak and wiggle in the spot. You feel the heat nestling in your lap. You can barely sit still.

“Do I get on top of you?”

“We’re beside each other,” you correct him. He bows, urging you on. “And you’re feeling me, I’m feeling you and…” you close your eyes again, “I have my leg around you,” your hips tilt slightly without meaning to as he kneads your thigh, “and you're…”

You don’t know how to say it. Not in the right away. You pull your hands apart and spread them wide. You shake your head and let your lashes flick open again.

“I’m inside you,” he growls, “fucking you, right?”

You choke and slap your hands down on your thighs. You grind against the cushion as your fingertips touch his thick knuckles. You recoil but he catches your hand and pulls it back. He clings to you as he slides closer.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s only in your head, right?”

“I suppose…”

“It would only be wrong if I kissed you right now,” he leans in, his voice softening, “if I let my hand go a little higher…” you can taste his breath, “if I put you down on this couch and did everything you dream of.”

You feel like you’re going to faint. His cheeks dimple and he grins, chuckling as he sits back. He squeezes your hand and lets you go.

“But you’re a good girl and you won’t do that,” he sighs, “and I’m your doctor, so I won’t either.”

You deflate, shoulders slouching, as you watch him. He doesn’t look at you as he turns straight and leans back. He purses his lips as his smile turns bittersweet.

“I’ll still think of you,” he says, “if you think of me.”

“I… I… okay,” you utter.

“Our little secret.”

“Yes,” you agree, “secret.”

He brings his hand to his chest and presses it flat. He drags it down his stomach as he exhales. You see how his pants bulge and the sight inflames you. That’s for you.

“Alright,” he peels his hand away and checks his watch, “can you go get Andy? It’s his turn.”

“Uh…” you flinch, “oh. Yeah…”

You stand, your thighs jittery. You move stiffly, pivoting on the balls of your feet. You pull the dress down as you shuffle towards the door.

“Sweetheart,” he calls to you before you can cross the office, “look what you did.”

You turn as he points to the cushion. You see the dark sheen where you’d sat, you feel the same slickness in your panties, seeping through. Your mouth falls open in shock.

“I’m sorry–”

He swipes his fingers along the streak and rubs the wet leather. He lifts his fingertips and leans forward, tasting you as he purrs. He pops his fingers out and winks.

“I’ll clean up your mess,” he smirks, “Andy won’t even notice.”

You snap your mouth shut and stagger. You turn away before you let that fire licking in your thighs get the best of you. You pull open the door and rush outside, nearly tripping as you do. Andy looks up from his phone, a brow tweaking in surprise.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Your turn,” you declare tersely and spin to sit on a chair.

“Alright,” he lowers his phone hesitantly, “everything good?”

“Yes, Andy, it’s good,” you chirp, “I love you.”

He stands and his fingers flutter at his side. “Love you too,” he words are stunted.

You stare at your toes until he’s gone. Until you’re certain the door is shut and you’re safe. You peek over at the nameplate and just reading his name makes you quiver. You’re no good at keeping secrets, but this one wouldn’t just hurt you, it would hurt Andy more.

🕊️

The weekend drags by sluggishly slow. Like those days when you used to sit and watch the shadows, too defeated to do anything else. Maybe it’s because you’re so restless or maybe because you feel like you’re carrying around some terrible weight. After your appointment, you just can’t escape yourself.

Every time you look at Andy, you feel a pang of shame. So you do your best to do better, just like you promised. You wash the dishes, mop the floors, twice before realising you already did that, and make every meal.

And you do the other stuff. The stuff Andy really likes but you can’t bring yourself to think of Dr. Kemp again. Even after he said it’s okay. Even if it makes it easier.

Sunday night, Andy falls asleep beside you. You’re awake, just as unsettled as the last day and a half. You toss and turn as he snores. You envy his oblivion. You wish you could have that. It seems so easy for him to just sleep. Like everything else in life, what’s near impossible for you, is simple for everyone else.

You huff and lay on your stomach, hoping to snuff yourself out with the pillow. It’s all those thoughts that just won’t stop. That undoneness. You tried but you just couldn’t get there with Andy.

You surrender and sit up. You’re not going to sleep. Despite your promises, despite your effort and desperation, you just can’t. You peek over your shoulder at Andy. His chest rises and falls as his snores keep tempo.

You stand, careful not to jostle the bed, and wrap yourself in a short pink robe. You wring your hands as you wade through the darkness. You’ll just watch some television or something, just until that fuzzy makes your eyes want to close.

You let yourself into the hall, shutting the door gently behind you. You take your tablet from the table where it charges and unlock it. You can do a bit of drawing too. You need to keep your hands and mind busy.

Downstairs, you settle in on the couch. You put on a syndicated sitcom and sit sideways against the armrest. You take your pen and scribble. That beak doesn’t look right and those feathers are all wrong. No! Why are its feet so uneven?

You slide the cover closed and throw your head back. You can’t even draw! You pout and turn to the television. You watch the figures on the screen but you don’t care about the story line. You already know what happens.

You shut it off and take the tablet to the kitchen. You enter the kitchen and put on the kettle. You bounce around as you wait for it to steam. Finally, you pour the water over a bag of chamomile. That’s what Amber always used to suggest; tea and a hot bath.

That’s it. A nice bath would do you well. You head upstairs, with your tablet and tea, and tiptoe into the bathroom. The house is so quiet it’s unnerving.

You set down the mug, the tag of the tea bag brushing your knuckle. You place your tablet flat on the edge of the counter and back up. You undress, the silence ringing in your ears. You can hear yourself swallow, hear the stickiness in your dry mouth, and the beating of your heart.

You bend over the tub and twist on the faucet. The water pours out and splashes off the porcelain. You stand up and shake off the droplets. It’s so violent and loud like a thunderstorm.

You shiver and rub your upper arms, hugging yourself. Your eyes wander to the steam wisping from the cup then along the tiled wall. Your attention pinpoints on the speaker. The little white square almost blends right into the tile.

When the tub’s full, you could listen to some music. Something quiet. You flick open the tablet and punch in the code. You pull down the menu and open your bluetooth settings. You hit search and wait for the devices to appear.

Several pop up. The television downstairs and a few smart lights you didn’t know about. A phone and lastly a device simply labeled ‘bathroom’. Strange. You don’t think much of it and tap connect.

A warning pops up; ‘To pair, the associated device app must be installed. Do you wish to proceed?’ You don’t think much of it. Everything these days is an additional download. You hit yet and open the app store.

Ojo. That’s a different name for an app. There’s an icon that looks like an eye. Hmmmm. You press install and wait for the little wheel to buffer.

You turn and check the temperature of the tub as the water gets higher. You add some soap for bubbles and return to the download. Done. You require only a quick update before it opens.

‘Device is full. Would you like to back up saved files to the cloud?’

You reread the prompt several times. You don’t understand. What files? It’s a speaker, isn’t it? Amber had a cheap one like it in the kitchen that she got out of a case of soda.

You hit yes, just wanting to get rid of the hovering window. The pop-up closes and you’re faced with a whole screen of thumbnails. A library of files. Videos. You don’t think much of it until you recognise yourself in one of them. Your face staring right back at you.

You reach for the screen but hesitate to touch it. You’re frozen in disbelief and denial. You don’t want this to be real. You bring your finger down and just as quickly rescind your arm.

You watch the video fill the screen as you appear clearer. You back up, completely naked as you hold a bottle of soap. You’re completely unaware of being observed as you squeeze out a dollop and lather up your skin.

You frantically hit back and lift the tablet. You bring it closer as you squint at the other thumbnails. It’s you, over and over, bathing, showering, even scrubbing down the tub. And then, that other video. You and Andy.

You want to scream and you almost do. It’s not a speaker at all! He lied to you. He knows you struggle. That being naked just in front of him is torture. He knows all that and he still did this.

You hear a drip and wince. Shoot! You quickly twist off the faucet as the tub begins to overflow. You reach into the water and pull the stopper. The sleeve and half the robe are soaked.

You back up and grip the sink behind you. Your face contorts with unspent tears. You feel a snap inside. Sharp and jarring.

What do you do? Break the camera? Tell Andy you know? Tell him to take it down? And how will that go?

Just like the water in the tub, it all comes flooding in. Andy lied! If he could lie about that darn speaker, he must be lying about everything.

And he knows. He always knows how much you hate everything and he does it anyway. It’s clear now and you don’t know why you ever believed him. Why you do any of this?

You were just so desperate for things to work. You only ever wanted to figure your life out. So you convinced yourself that he would save you. You're just as stupid as you ever were.

No, no, you’re spiraling. You’re not thinking straight. He must have a good reason for all this, right? Maybe it has nothing to do with you? It’s a security camera. In the bathroom?

You grab the tablet and rush out of the bathroom. You scurry downstairs and into the living room. You pace around, hugging the tablet in one arm as you try to sort out your thoughts. You’re humiliated, angry, hurt, everything all at once. You’re almost delirious as you try to sort through it.

You don’t know what to think anymore. You stop and grip the tablet firmly. You flick through the menu and tap on the messenger app. The chat log is gone. All of it. But Dr. Kemp remains in your contacts.

You open the conversation. He won’t answer this late but you can wait for an answer. As long as you get one.

‘He lied.’

That’s all you can type out. It’s the only way you can put it into words. Your chest hurts and your stomach is sour. You want to puke, you want to stop breathing, you want to cry and shout and break things.

‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’ His message blips up. You don’t think about how late it is, you don’t care.

‘No.’ You answer bluntly.

His next reply isn’t so quick. You think maybe he won’t respond. Your eyes begin to burn as tears threaten to spill over. You look around and bile rises in your throat. Acid brews inside of you and boils to fury.

You hate this place. You hate it and you always have. You never should have come.

You don’t wait for an answer.

‘Get me out of here.’

#step into my library #that beginning #oh my GOD #she feels like she’s gonna faint #i feel like i’m gonna faint #beside myself with what dr. kemp is saying #and then she finds the camera #goodness gracious #get her out of there #love that she’s finally realizing she wants to and can actually leave #that andy’s been lying from the start #even though dr. kemp isn’t the best option #he’s a good one for now

158 notes · View notes

foxgloveprincess · 2 days

Note

eddie munson with 90. "is it just me, or does your celebrity crush look a lot like me?", with fem!reader

I didn't use the exact line of dialogue just the concept, I hope you don't mind! I love this request though!!

warnings: just fluff and a wee bit of angst along the way, friends to lovers, 'unrequited' love (the love is requited they are just stupid)

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

"Admit it-- you'd let him do anything he wanted to you," Robin laughed teasingly.

"Honestly? Yeah, probably," you agreed as you bit your lip.

"What if he's, like, a freak or something?" she wondered. "Like what if he's into something really fucked up?"

"It would still be hot, 'cause it's him," you decided.

"So if he came up to you right now, and said 'hey, you're cute, wanna come back to my place and take a bath with me in a tub of mayonnaise?' you would..." she prompted.

"I would ask if he knows where I can get bulk mayonnaise for a discount," you grinned.

"Ew! You hate mayonnaise!" she grimaced.

"Yes, but I love him," you explained.

Just then, Eddie hopped up to your table, straddling one of the attached benches with a smile. "Woah, who do we love?" he asked.

"Eddie, you can't just barge in to a private conversation," Robin corrected with a frown.

"Private? I can hear the girlish giggling from the theater room," he scoffed. "Besides, I wanna know the gossip. You've got it bad for somebody?"

He looked around the room as if he would figure out who it was by examining the students, but Robin shook her head. "It's not, like, a real guy. It's her celebrity crush."

"And future husband," you beamed.

"Would I know who it was if you said it?" Eddie wondered.

You thought about not telling him, but it didn't really matter, because Robin blurted it out. "Probably-- it's Kirk Hammett, from Metallica."

Eddie's eyes went wide for a second, before he grinned and leaned one arm against the table. "I guess I should take that as a compliment."

You laughed softly in confusion. "What?"

"You know-- 'cause I look like him!" he announced excitedly.

Robin tilted her head as he stared at Eddie. "Oh yeah!" she said. "You know, now that you say it--"

"No," you shook your head, "you're not like him."

"Yes I am!" he laughed, though it sounded more like a sound of bewilderment than amusement. "Come on, are you serious? People say it all the time!"

"Well, they probably just say it cause you play guitar."

"And the hair?!" he yelped, shaking his mane around for emphasis which made Robin snort.

"Lots of guys have long hair nowadays!" you rolled your eyes. "That doesn't mean anything. Robin's blonde, doesn't mean she looks like Goldie Hawn!"

"Wait, I don't?" Robin asked sarcastically, feigning offence.

"It's not just that-- you seriously don't see it?" Eddie pouted. "Look at me-- I mean, really look at me."

You did, narrowing your eyes slightly as you examined him; he held his arms out as if to show himself to you, which did give you a better view of his arms and ink, but you frowned and shook your head. "I just see Eddie," you shrugged.

He deflated a bit. "Right, well-- anyways, did we get Robin to share her celebrity crush?"

"That was the next order of business," you explained with a smirk, and you both put your attention on the girl across the table.

"Nope-- my lips are sealed," Robin assured.

"If we can guess her name, will you tell us?" Eddie asked.

"No, I'll never--" she started to insist, but the two of you were blurting out names already.

"Brooke Shields!" "Kim Basinger!" "Ooh, Annie Lennox!"

"Guys," Robin groaned, rolling her eyes, but she was starting to blush, too.

You and Eddie were sitting side by side on the ground, backs leaned up against the outer wall of the school; his knees were bent and his arms were draped over them, while you sat with your legs overlapping as you tied wildflowers from the lawn into a daisy chain.

"You're quiet," you noticed.

"So? There's not much to say," he replied.

"When has that ever stopped you from running your mouth?" you smirked, looking up at him, but he wasn't smiling back at you so yours sank. "You've been quiet for a while."

"Guess I'm not that peppy today," he decided, staring forward at his fingers as he mindlessly spun one of his rings around.

"Not today," you explained, "like, all week. Is everything okay?"

He shrugged a little as if to say, it doesn't matter.

"Seriously, just talk to me," you pleaded. "Whatever it is, I wanna help."

"You can't help, okay?" he snapped,

"I can't stop thinking about what you said," he admitted. "When you and Robin were talking about your celebrity crush--"

"Listen, Eddie, I'm sorry if I don't see a resemblance, but it's not that big of a deal--"

"No, no, not that," he sighed, "I meant... what you said after. That you just see Eddie."

You knit your eyebrows together, not sure what he was getting at. He finally looked back at you, and the sadness in his eyes made your breath catch.

"That's all you're ever gonna see, isn't it?"

You sighed a little, looking away for a moment. "Ed, not this again--"

"C'mon, babe, you know I'm crazy about you," he sighed, tilting his head until it leaned against the wall behind him. "And I know every excuse you've given me-- you're not ready for a relationship, you don't want to ruin what we have, you don't want to bring me into your messed up brain-- but if you're into this guy who looks like me but you don't want me then... then it must just be that I'm awful, right?"

"Eddie, no," you denied with a pout, but he scoffed and looked ahead again.

"It's okay, I get it," he sighed. "I wouldn't wanna date me either. You deserve all the fancy stuff, y'know? Getting driven to cool dates in a nice car, hanging out at his house and not, you know, a dirty old trailer--"

"I don't want all that stuff," you assured, moving in closer to him. "I want somebody sweet and fun and smart--"

"I knew it's 'cause I can't fuckin' graduate," he mumbled, but you put your hand on his arm to get his attention.

"Eddie, you're not listening to me," you scolded. "It's not you, it's me. And I know that's a cliche but it's true."

"How can it not be me?" he rolled his eyes. "I'm a freak, and a fuck-up, and a flunk-out, and you're basically perfect--"

"Oh my god, you're, like, my dream guy, okay?!" you spat out, louder than you meant to. He finally shut up, and looked at you like he could finally see it-- like he finally knew. "I always liked you," you continued, a little softer and shier than before, "but I knew if I... if we ever actually, you know, went for it, I'd just mess it all up. And you're the last person I'd ever want to hurt--"

He cut you off with a kiss: a sudden, sweet, hungry kiss that caught you off-guard for a second before you melted into it.

It wasn't that one kiss could make all your fears about a relationship go away... but it sure could make them seem a lot less important. And it definitely could help convince you that it was worth the risk.

When he pulled back, he held your face even as you tried to look away to hide it. "Sorry," he said, taking his hands away slowly, "I just had to do that."

"Oh, Ed," you hummed, "you're so cute I could die."

He got a little red in the face, which only made the cuteness more apparent. "Aw hell," he snorted, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "You think I'm cute 'cause I look like Kirk?"

"No," you smiled, "I like Kirk 'cause he looks like you."

#step into my library #oh #my heart #i am soft #i love this so much #eddie gets all the love from me #and that heart to heart #had me melting

954 notes · View notes