#bee writes fanfiction

[foxhanbin]

just let me adore you

This is a gift for @starbound-wanderer! Happy HellCheer Helloween! <3

And thank you @helloween-gift-exchange for hosting this event!

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationship: Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson

Additional Tags: Hellcheer Gift Exchange 2022, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Rivalry, Falling In Love

just let me adore you

It goes like this: life is stranger than fiction and more insane than anything Eddie could ever dream up for a DnD session. At least, that’s what he thinks when he walks into Hawkings High School again, 10 years between his graduation (on the fourth try) and his first day as the new teacher of English and Music.

If someone had told Eddie at twenty that he would end up here again, at Hawkins High School, as a teacher nonetheless, he would have laughed and kicked them out. But at the end of 1987, his fourth year as a senior and after that absolute shitshow of the year 1986, he graduated high school on the fourth try. And for lack of a better idea, he enrolled in community college, even managing to get a partial musical scholarship. (He is still baffled they gave him money for playing an instrument he would have played either way.)

But here he is now. Everything seems pretty much the same, even though he doubts it is. Walking into the teacher’s lounge, Eddie doesn’t expect to see any familiar faces, if he is being honest. 

But he enters, and one of the first faces to stand out in the crowd is Chrissy Cunningham, the former queen of Hawkins High School.

And Eddie has grown sure, but his mouth is still quicker than his brain, and he blurts out: “Well, if it isn’t Chrissy Cunningham, cheerleader extraordinaire.”

She turns, surprise clear on her face. But when she sees him, just like back then, she smiles at him. “Eddie!”

 _______________________

Chrissy did not always want to become a teacher, but it was always a secret consideration. So she goes to a college two states over and becomes the teacher her mother doesn’t want her to be and learns that she is actually really good at it. And maybe she returns because she wants to be in the place that she hated as a teenager, to make sure the new kids don’t feel like that.

She did not expect to see Eddie frickin’ Munson walk into school as the new English and Music teacher two years after she started teaching there, but then again, he had always been a strange one. This might as well happen, she thinks. 

“Well, if it isn’t Chrissy Cunningham, cheerleader extraordinaire.”

She has to smile at him, just for apparently being the same he was almost 10 years ago. 

“Eddie! It’s nice to see you again. How’s the Corroded Coffin doing?”

_______________________

It takes about two weeks before the school ropes Eddie into being the teacher for another extracurricular activity, besides the newspaper

He doesn’t quite expect to take the marching band, but Mrs Miller-Brown, a woman who seems old enough that Eddie worries about her fluttering away at a stronger breeze, is finally retiring after she broke her hip, and the school is suddenly panicking about finding someone to fill in for her. 

And Eddie, the dumbass he is, doesn’t think before nodding when his colleague, Brian Thomas, asks: “Didn’t you go to college on a music scholarship?”

After two meetings and a scribbled signature on a hastily drawn-up paper, Eddie is officially in charge of the Hawkings High School marching band. 

And that is where all of his troubles begin. 

_______________________

Chrissy Cunningham loves her job. She truly does. 

She loves the kids she gets to teach every day, seeing them learn and thrive, watching them grow into their own. She loves teaching mathematics and explaining the structure and logic behind numbers. Especially when she reaches someone who thinks math sucks, she feels a special kind of accomplishment. 

In a completely different way, but still as intense, she loves being the PE teacher. She knows some kids hate PE, especially if they are struggling to keep up with their peers, so she makes sure to keep an eye out for anyone being singled out. She tries to find new and fun ways for them to exercise, to show them that sports can be many things, not just football, basketball, and wrestling. 

And she loves being the Cheerleading coach. She’s proud to see them perform before and during the games, giving it their all, and watching them find confidence in their bodies and skills. She adores it when her kids start winning county competitions, when they are rewarded for the hard work they put in. 

It seems only natural to be a little competitive. And to be always on the lookout for promising new students to join the squad. 

So every year, in the first few weeks of class, Chrissy sharpens her eye to see which student might be a good fit for the team – looking especially those who get that shimmer in their eyes when they do cheerleading exercises in PE, those who seem to want to try. 

This way, they’ll have enough time to train with the others, and she won’t start from scratch when the seniors leave at the end of the year. 

This year, one of the younger kids, Sarah, has a lot of potential. She seems to love dance, but also the exercises they do in preparation for flying maneuvers, so Chrissy calls her over after PE. 

Sarah bounds over, a questioning but interesting look on her face. “Yes, Ms. Cunningham?”

Chrissy smiles at her. “I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re doing fantastic in those cheerleading exercises, Sarah. If you ever want to join the squad, there will be a space for you, okay?”

Sarah beams at her, the shine in her eyes unmistakable. But then it dims, something like guilt showing across her face, and Chrissy finds that old fear creeping up in her, the one she always felt when her mother pushed her to continue cheerleading when it stopped being fun and became torture. 

Sarah wrings her hands. “I would love to, but… I can’t.”

Chrissy makes sure her voice softens and that her face is only showing her honesty when she says: “Hey, that’s okay. There’s no pressure – you don’t have to join if you don’t want to. I just wanted to offer.”

Sarah starts shaking her head as Chrissy speaks, immediately explaining: “That’s not it. I would really love to, but I can’t. Mr. Munson already asked me if I wanted to play the clarinet in marching band.”

Ah. The school will only let a student be in one club, to make sure they don’t overdo it. Chrissy internally breathes a sigh of relief.

“Oh! Well, that’s completely understandable. It would be too much for a student to fit both into their schedule. Are you joining the marching band this year then?”

Sarah nods, shyly. “I think they look so cool when they march. And I really want to study music in college.”

Chrissy smiles at her, honest delight for her student. “That’s amazing! I’m sure you’ll do fantastic. The marching band will be lucky to have you.”

Shuffling her feet a little, Sarah gives her a smile. “Thank you, Ms. Cunningham.” 

“Of course. Now, off you go. We don’t want you to be late.”

Watching Sarah bound up the stairs to the dressing rooms, Chrissy smiles after her. 

_______________________

She did not expect this to become a problem. But when she keeps asking students to join the cheer squad, and when they keep telling her they already joined the marching band, she begins to feel a little… frustrated. 

She is pretty sure it’s not Mr. Munson – Eddie – being actively malicious and trying to snatch up her promising students, but after the fourth person tells her: “I’m sorry, Ms. Cunningham, but I’m already joining one of Mr. Munson’s clubs”, she can’t take it anymore. 

She marches herself over to the band practice room at lunch and enters the room without knocking. 

Eddie Munson, music teacher and pain in her ass right now, is in the middle of biting down on a sandwich when she throws open the door. 

He blinks up at her, clearly baffled by her fuming. 

Chrissy knows she’s probably being unreasonable, but she refuses to let that get in the way of this. “Why do you keep recruiting my sports students for your marching band?!”

Eddie looks baffled. 

He puts his sandwich down. “It’s nice to see you, too, Chrissy.”

Chrissy scoffs, a little meaner than she intends to be. “Yes, yes. Four of my best PE kids are already in your marching band!”

Eddie sighs. Standing up, he stretches his back until it cracks. Chrissy isn’t sure if that’s good or bad, from a medical standpoint. 

“Well, three of my Music students are already doing football or cheerleading. I have to get some people into my marching band, or it will be more of a marching quintet!”

He takes a breath. Chrissy notices, once again, that he’s quite tall. 

“And half of the kids don’t even know the Newspaper exists before I ask them to join. So don’t tell me I’m taking your students when you’ve been recruiting all my students!”

They are in a standoff, Chrissy realizes. And that she’s the one starting this petty fight over something that clearly wasn’t malicious. But now Chrissy is feeling competitive. She steps closer and points a finger at Eddie’s chest. “I’m warning you, Munson. Quit recruiting my students for your clubs, or else.”

The spark in Eddie’s eyes is the same one he always got in school when someone pushed him. It never scared Chrissy, and it doesn’t know. (It makes something in her stomach flutter, though. To have his attention so sharply on her.)

He leans forward, bringing them closer together. “Or else what, Cunningham?” 

Chrissy smiles at him, saccharine sweet. “Or I’m going to make you regret it.”

He grins at her. “Oh, you’re on.”

_______________________

It becomes a game. It is very much still about recruiting her favorite students to the Cheer Squad, but it also becomes about making Eddie twitch a little and shoot her sharp little glares that feel nothing at all like anger. 

Chrissy finds herself paying more attention to Eddie in the teacher’s room/teacher’s lounge – which students he mentions, 

She’s not doing it to be mean. But when one of Eddie’s favorite students – like Quinn – seems to have a lot of fun during the cheerleading class, she doesn’t hesitate to ask him to join the cheer squad as a base, either.

It has become a game, and Chrissy won’t lose. 

_______________________

She can’t even pretend to be surprised when Eddie waits for her after Cheerleading practice, a cigarette in hand and a frustrated look on his face. 

She drops her bag next to her car, and without prompting, Eddie accuses her. “You did that on purpose.”

Smirking internally, Chrissy puts on an innocent face. “I did what on purpose?”

He scoffs, dropping his cigarette to the pavement. “You knew Quinn was one of the students I wanted to ask to join the newspaper!”

Unlocking her car to throw her bag into it, Chrissy takes a moment to gloat. She had suspected, but Quinn had been so good during the base exercises, she had to ask. They don’t have enough bases as it is. 

“How would I possibly have known that? It’s not like you stuck a sticky note on him, calling dibs,” she points out, evading the question a little.

Eddie narrows his eyes at her. “Sweet, sweet Chrissy Cunningham. What has happened to you?”

Chrissy leans against her car, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Shouldn’t you, as an English teacher, be familiar with descriptive names?”

Eddie’s mouth twitches, and then he laughs, his head thrown back. “Well played, Chrissy. Well played.”

He steps closer to her, his presence growing more pronounced now that she’s between him and the car. (It doesn’t feel threatening. If anything, it feels like it should be threatening, but it’s not. It’s just exciting to have him look at her like this.) 

“But Chrissy?”

“Yes?” She sounds a little too breathless. 

“Don't try to poach my favorite student for your club again.” He smirks. “Or else.”

_______________________

Things calm down around November when everyone is already snatched up by a teacher for their club – but their competitiveness and their teasing don’t let up. 

Eddie tells the teacher’s lounge loudly and happily about how well Sarah is doing in marching band, and Chrissy pays him back by emphasizing how fast Quinn is picking up the new cheerleading exercises. Brandon’s writing skills are apparently improving rapidly thanks to the newspaper club – and Lisa seems a lot more integrated and self-confident thanks to the cheer squad supporting her after her move here. 

Chrissy is still a little mad she didn’t get Brandon or Sarah on her squad, but she’s really happy to see them thrive. And she privately thinks, maybe their little rivalry has only had good things come out of it.

_______________________

Winter break rolls around, and Chrissy is ready for it. Everyone is a little burnt out after midterms and competitions, so she makes them take it easy both in class and squad training. 

She completely forgets about the teacher’s winter break dinner until three days before. 

Katie Johnson, a teacher of physics, leans over during lunch, and asks: “What are you wearing this Saturday?”

Chrissy, absentmindedly picking through her salad, lifts her head to look at her. “What am I wearing this Saturday to what?”

Katie looks a little baffled, but readily elaborates. “The teacher’s dinner? Before winter break?”

“That’s this weekend?” Chrissy blanches. She completely forgot that existed, even though she has already attended it twice. 

“What’s this weekend?” Eddie’s voice floats over from a few seats down. Katie smiles at him. “The teacher’s dinner! We do it every year, kind of as a tradition. Haven’t they told you about it?”

Eddie touches his necklace, a plenum, in a gesture Chrissy notices as nervousness. (She doesn’t know when she noticed that often enough to recognize it.) 

“Uh, probably? But with all the midterms going on, I think I completely forgot about it.” 

Katie laughs. “Well, seems like you and Chrissy both. But yeah, it’s this weekend. It’s not super formal, just a dinner with the teachers. We usually go to the nice Italian place over by the cinema.”

She keeps explaining the details to Eddie, seamlessly launching into a retelling of last year’s events, and Chrissy’s mind starts coming up with a different plan.

_______________________

Chrissy waits for Eddie at his car after his last lesson. She might have sneaked a look at his schedule earlier, to make sure she wouldn’t catch him between lessons, or miss him. 

He seems surprised to see her there, but he smiles at her. “What’s up, Chrissy?”

“Not much, classes were pretty good.” She fiddles with an earring, but when she catches herself, she folds her hands. Then she blurts out: “Are you going to the teacher’s dinner?”

Eddie blinks. “I mean, I guess. I don’t have anything to wear, but I guess it’ll be fun.”

Then he squints. “Why? Is there something wrong with the dinner?”

Chrissy laughs. Eddie has this way of saying things that she doesn’t expect, and it makes her feel less anxious. “No, it’s all good. I just wanted to ask you if you would go there with me.”

Eddie touches his plenum again, his eyes suddenly a little hesitant. “With… you? As in… together?”

She nods, suddenly feeling a little like they’re teenagers again. “You don’t have to, of course. I just wanted to ask.”

Eddie smiles at her then, an intrigued little thing. “Sure. But only on one condition.”

Now it is Chrissy’s time to squint up at him, trying to figure out what he has in mind. “What’s the condition?”

Eddie smiles at her shyly. “Go on a date with me before?”

Her own smile matches his, a slowly growing thing. “I would love that.”

_______________________

“Eddie?”

“Hm?”

“This doesn’t mean I won’t steal your students next year.”

you can also find this on ao3!

#helloween hellcheer gift exchange #starbound-wanderer #chrissy x eddie #eddissy #hellcheer #bee writes #bee writes fanfiction

[freedomfireflies]

pussy plug pt. 2 today?? 👀

Harry is angry with you.

Even without the explicit words, you can tell by the shift in his expression that you’ve displeased him. That he’s refraining from dragging you out of this restaurant and into the hallway so he can have a word.

You don't mean to, really. But what does he expect after edging you for hours and then plugging you full of his cum? Forcing you to sit through this prolonged evening with nothing more than some tantalizing memories and promises of release to hold you over?

“Bee,” comes the low warning, discreetly whispered into your ear as you both await the arrival of your parents. “Don’t you fucking dare—”

“Can’t help it,” you pant quietly, hand on his thigh as you squeeze for dear life. “You keep turning it up—”

“And I also keep telling you to hold it,” he hisses, scooting closer as if to hide you from the rest of the restaurant. “Are you gonna disobey me, baby girl? Are you gonna make me put you over my knee in front of everybody in this goddamn room?”

You squirm a bit harder in your seat, lashes fluttering quickly as you wrestle against your orgasm. “Har, please—”

“No.” His rejection is resolute, his voice thick with disappointment. “You are not to cum until I say so.” 

You suck in a sharp gasp as a wave of pleasure explodes between your thighs, the tip of the plug lightly grazing the bottom of your chair. “H, I can’t…I can’t hold it, I’m sorry—”

“You will,” he reminds you, fingers curling around the edge of your seat as if to warn you. “You fucking will, Bee, or I’ll spank you right here in front of your parents. Is that what you want? Want your dad to see you get punished by your daddy?”

You’d slap him if this were any other time, but right now, you devote your energy to keeping the orgasm at bay. Nearly sweating from the strain. “Harry—”

“No,” he repeats, a bit icier than before as his eyes flick toward something just behind you. “Promised you’d be my good girl. So I want you to be good and fucking take it. Yeah? Fucking take it.”

With that, he’s standing from his chair, a wide smile on his face as you wilt by the table.

“Maggie, Richard, so nice to see you,” he calls loudly, arm outstretching to welcome your parents closer, and that’s when it hits you.

Because suddenly, the vibrations from the plug are abruptly changing in rhythm, and it’s exactly what you’d needed to tip you over. You try to fight it, you really do, but it washes over you like a fucking wave until you’re choking on a gasp and shivering in your seat.

Nobody else seems to notice, with Harry quickly stepping in front of your body to block you from any prying eyes.

But you’re humiliated, nonetheless, and it’s all you can do to keep from whimpering right then and there.

After a bit of small talk, your parents sweep around the table to take their place on the other side. Exchanging their greetings with you as you finally begin to find your footing again.

“Oh, honey, are you getting sick?” your mother coos, hand on her cheek in worry. “You look a little warm.”

“I’m…no, I’m all right,” you manage to stammer, ignoring Harry’s smug smile from beside you. “It’s just hot in here. How was your drive?”

“Absolutely dreadful,” she sighs. “The traffic was a nightmare, we didn’t move for at least an hour, I mean…I don’t know how you two put up with it every day.”

And thus begins the lively reenactment of their journey, with your father nodding along dutifully while you and Harry attempt to listen.

And you’re happy for the distraction because at least it means you’re offered a moment of reprieve. Even though you know Harry is currently stewing from beside you. Unable to reprimand you the way he’s so apt to do.

However, your momentary escape from his wrath is brought to a sudden halt when your parents declare they’d like to wash up. Standing from the table and disappearing toward the bathroom, thus leaving the two of you to…chat.

“Well, well, well,” is the first thing he murmurs once you’re alone. “Obeyed me for all of…what? Twenty seconds?”

Swallowing thickly, you glance over. “It’s not my fault. You kept turning it up—”

“Because you kept cumming without my permission,” he retorts, nodding his chin toward your thighs. “And after I was kind enough to keep you nice and full.”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you lean a bit closer and whisper, “I’m sorry, okay? I really tried. Really, really. But it just…it was too much. I won’t do it again, I swear—”

“Oh, you will,” he interrupts again, forcing you to blink at him. “No, yeah. If you wanna act like a brat and cum whenever you feel like it, then I’ll let you cum. Let you cum as many fucking times as you want.”

The switch in tactics nearly makes your head spin, and you look over his expression curiously. “Okay…?”

“In fact, I’d like you to cum at least two more times while we’re at this table,” he tells you, and instantly, your heart drops. “Think you can do that, baby girl?”

“Har…Harry, you aren’t…you can’t be serious—”

“I think you can,” he decides for you, ignoring your outrage. “And I think you will. Think you’ll cum as many times as I’d like. Won’t you?”

And you want to respond – want to scream at him for this sadistic little game – but your parents are sliding back up before you get the chance. Forcing you to do nothing but gawk at him.

Pleased, he leans back over, and hums, “Starting right fucking now.”

With that, he hits a button on his phone, and brings the vibrating pussy plug back to life. Instantly shoving you up that peak of pleasure as your poor, overstimulated cunt is toyed with yet again.

You cough to hide a gasp, and you’re lucky that your parents are otherwise distracted by their menus to notice.

But Harry notices.

He always notices.

As the evening progresses, you attempt to keep your thighs pressed tightly together. Attempt to avoid any extra stimulation or accidental grazing to the plug. But Harry is on a mission, and his insistence on making you orgasm is relentless.

“Bee,” he warns quietly as your parents begin to relay their order to the waiter, “none of that. I want you to keep your legs spread, yeah? So I can have a feel. Make sure you’re doing what I asked.”

You bite back a glare – while also biting at your lip – and bring your eyes to his. “Har…I can’t, really. Please…please—”

“Shh,” he whispers, scooting closer to press a seemingly harmless kiss to your cheek. “Yes you can. And I don’t want any complaining. You asked for this, didn’t you? By disobeying? You asked to be punished.”

“No,” you argue quietly, head shaking. “No, I promise. I tried. I really tried—”

“I know,” he finally concedes with a sympathetic coo, running his hand over your back soothingly. “I know, baby girl, but you didn’t try hard enough. I know you can do better, yeah? So I’m gonna make you do better. And this is how I do that.”

Whimpering softly, you plead with him through a frown, desperately needing his mercy more than ever.

However, he doesn’t seem to notice, his hand merely moving down to your lap as his fingers curl around your thigh firmly. “What did I say, hm? Want them open, Bee.”

You force your expression to remain stoic and unbothered as Harry’s hand continues to tug your leg closer to him. Creating the perfect space for access while he shoots a grin toward your parents from across the table. And keeping his little game a secret.

Leaning into his shoulder, you turn your face and try again. “Harry, please—”

However, his hand simply squeezes the top of your thigh from beneath your dress, and you choke on a whine as you pretend not to notice. “All you had to do was behave, baby girl. All you had to do was sit here, nice and full of my cum, until I could take care of it for you. So I could take that pretty little plug out and have a taste of us.”

Your lashes flutter, and it’s getting harder to pretend as though the two of you are engaging in nothing more than innocent conversation.

“But you just had to cum. Just had to disobey me. And now…” His thumb suddenly finds the tip of the plug and he grazes it softly before shooting you a smirk. “…I’m gonna make you sit here at this table. All goddamn night while cum as many times as I see fit.”

Reeling, you shoot him a piteous look for leniency, to which he merely grins.

“And you?” He presses his finger against the toy – hard. “You’re you’re gonna fucking take it.”

Previous Part:

~ Harry and Bee Use A Pussy Plug*

- Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

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[patrophthia]

Heya, I don't know it's already done or not but can you please write about the egoistic yandere Tom Marvolo Riddle with a hugeeee obsession and love🤔 on introverted half blood slytherin y/n who doesn't give a f*ck him and his looks like other girls of Hogwarts!🫠

thank you for sending this in, i was really hesitant on writing this bc i’ve never wrote anything like this before so i hope you like it!

know you better | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

warnings: yandere!tom, very obsessive and delusional way of thinking, death, even more delusions

To fall in love with you was the easiest thing Tom has ever done. All you had to do was merely be in the same vicinity as him and he’d found himself more than just head over heels over you. 

For you to fall in love with him on the other hand, that surely was one of the hardest things he had to do in life. You don’t look at him —not because, unlike the others, you didn’t dare to but because you weren’t interested in him. You don’t offer him a smile when he greets you good morning. You don’t throw yourself at him when he turns a blind eye when he catches you sneaking around the castle at night. You don’t care for him. 

And quite honestly, it is driving him insane. What is it that everybody has that he doesn’t? Why does everyone else get to see you smile when you won’t even turn in his direction? Why won’t you just admit you want him as much as he wants you? 

Though you don’t show it, Tom can read between the lines. He thinks —no, he knows that you’re acting indifferent to play hard to get. He knows you want him, you just won’t admit it.

He tries to be a gentleman about his intentions at first, sliding up to you whilst you hover your cauldron during potions. He calls out your last name cautiously, careful to not startle you; he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he accidentally hurts you. You turn to him, a small frown appearing on your lips. “Riddle?” 

He skips the formalities, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Would you like to go out this weekend?” 

You fix him a look, and then, “no.” 

You didn’t hear him right. That’s what he tells himself. Or maybe he’s confused, because why wouldn’t someone want to go out with him? Tom clarifies himself, “I meant on a date.” 

You turn back to your cauldron, ending the conversation as is. “No.” 

He was certain that you’re playing hard to get now. That was until one of his goons —Malfoy, that was his name, started noticing that Tom’s eyes tended to wander whenever you were in the same room as him; until Malfoy tells Tom exactly why you’d said no. 

“Macmillan, that’s his name. Walburga says they’ve been going out for a few months now.” You have a boyfriend? No, no, that can’t be right. There’s no way you had a boyfriend when you were so clearly playing hard to get with Tom this entire time. 

Was it because your ‘boyfriend’ was holding you back from your true love? Or were you using this ‘boyfriend’ as bait? Had you known that it was time for Tom to create his next Horcrux and had needed a new sacrifice? How thoughtful of you to take care of these little things for him. 

Luckily Tom’s smart, he’s known to be smart, and he’s smart enough to read you like an open book even though you won’t spare a second of your time on him. He admires it, how hard you’re playing this role of not caring for him when you’re clearly as indicated with him as he, you. 

He’ll take up on your offer, he thinks as he sets out towards his chamber. The Basilisk is a dear friend of his, it’s even dearer when it does these things for him. In Parsel tongue, Tom says his order. “Kill Macmillan. And be careful not to hurt her.” 

The Basilisks set out first, setting off after the aforementioned man; Tom a few steps behind. It isn’t hard for him to follow his dear friend, it leaves a wet trail in its wake for him to follow and it’s even easier for him to know when his friend has done its job from the scream you let out. 

Tom��s clever enough to hide behind the corridors as he waits for his friend to return back to his home. His heart aches to hold you as you scream time and time again, asking for help and he reminds himself to reward you for your amazing acting. 

With the way you’re so desperately clinging onto Macmillan’s body, you almost convince him that you genuinely cared for Macmillan, like Macmillan really was someone you were in love with. But he knows you, he knows you better than you know you. And he knows you love him. 

So he schools his expression to one of worry, if you were really playing the part then he should be a good sport and play it with you. “What’s wrong?” He asks you, not sparing a glance at Macmillan’s frigid body. 

“This —this thing, it came and it—” you stutter out, hiccuping out each word as you swiped at your eyes. Tom places a hand on your own, removing your grip on Macmillan’s body and ignores it when you flinch at his touch. “—it, I don’t know what it did but next thing I knew he was— he was gone.” 

Oh poor you, he sympathises. Such a good girl for him to play your part so well. He pries your other hand away from Macmillan’s body and wraps his arm around you. “It’s okay,” he offers, pressing your face against his chest. “It’s okay, I’m here now. I’ll keep you safe.” 

You sniffle, pulling away from him slightly. And when he realises that you could see the red glow in his eyes, neither of you mention it; for you were too afraid of the man holding you, and he too in love for something so trivial to take part of your conversation.

— from bee: this is so so new to me,, i hope you liked it!

#— requests #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x yn #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x reader #yandere!tom riddle x reader #— blurbs with bee #🧳: my writing #🍰: 600 with patro!

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Imagine…

Starting to make dinner in Aaron’s apartment on a Thursday night. He’s just gone for a shower, washing away his last case and the worst parts of the world that he falls privy to day in and day out as Unit Chief of the BAU.

You’re humming along to your oldies but goodies playlist while sipping a glass of white wine that’s too sweet for Aaron’s liking. As the current song fades out and the familiar notes of a Bee Gees tune start, you realize with a smile just how many of these songs you've compiled make you think of your love.

And, speak of the furthest thing from the devil, suddenly he’s there, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind as his body perfectly molds to the dips and curves of your own. He guides you back and forth in a gentle sway, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he releases a deep sigh.

You allow your eyes to drift shut and your head to fall back against Aaron so you can bury your nose in the crook of his neck. "Sauce'll burn," you mumble, letting his familiar smell wash over you and sending warm tingles throughout your body.

"Let it," he responds just as softly. "We'll order something. Need to hold you."

You release a sound of contentment that's half-sigh, half-hum, nuzzling even deeper into him as if you can become one person if you try hard enough. In this moment, there's no yesterday or tomorrow. There's no anticipation of the next phone call that will take your love across the country again. There's no darkness, no fear, no evil lurking around the corner. There's just you and the man you love more than anything else in the world.

You dot gentle kisses along the expanse of his skin that you can reach without moving, and he squeezes you tighter in response. "Marry me," Aaron breathes out on a sigh. "I'll make it more romantic later, I promise. Just tell me you'll be mine forever."

"Oh, my baby," you murmur. "I already am."

—————

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies @callm3c0nfus3d

#i was listening to how deep is your love by the bee gees in the shower and this is what ensued #just play it softly in the background while you read this 🥹 #why did i tear up writing this #the way in which i love this man #this is all i want #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x gender neutral reader #hotch x gn!reader #hotch fanfiction #hotch imagine #hotch fluff #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #hotch fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff

[spacecowboyhotch]

summary: they’re always drawn to each other, no matter how much they resist. its kismet— the Bee and the Bear.

pairing: carmy berzatto x f!reader (Bee)

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, friends to strangersish to lovers, angst/fluff/smut, references to drug addictions/mental illness/suicide, grief, smoking, lots of food mention, alcohol mention (more warnings as they come up!)

current wc: 7.5k

an: the bear has taken over my life. im living and loving and laughing the bear, it is a sickness that can’t be tamed. this is really self indulgent and ive been having such a good writing it so whoever reads thank you ily so bad.

read on ao3 | misc. masterlist

MAIN STORY:

Chapter 1: And Then There Were 4

Chapter 2: Back in the Beef

Chapter 3: Like a Bear to a Hive

Chapter 4: Like a Bee to Nectar

Chapter 5: To be Bitten and Stung

Chapter 6: 666 North Orleans Street

Chapter 7: Leaving Emerald in the Wind*

Chapter 8: Let it Rip

Chapter 9: The Stubborn Bee

Chapter 10: Sweet, Sweet Honey*

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto angst #the bear fanfiction #the bear fx #not sfw #arson writes the bear #the bee and the bear

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Can you write a fic were it’s reader asking Harry if he would still love her if she were a worm 😭😂 I just find it so hilarious

I wrote this in like 10 minutes. Hehe, it was fun! I'm so sorry it took me so long to respond to your ask. Hopefully you're still around and you like what I wrote for ya. Love you all 🩷

Sitting in bed, your phone in hand, you look over to the man beside you. He's sitting comfortably against the headboard, his tattoos canvased across his bare torso, and a book in hand. His bottom lip is pinched by his index finger and thumb, and his brow is furrowed in deep though as he absorbs the words on the page in front of him.

Your gaze flickers down to your phone for a moment, and you smile, trying hard not to giggle with the knowledge of what your plan is.

"Hey, H?" Your voice is quiet, and solemn, hoping you're letting off a more serious demeanor.

"Yes, love?" He responds, lowering his current read and turning his head over in your direction.

"Umm, well, I was just wondering..." You start off, wondering if your hesitation is persuasive. "Would you still love me... if I was a worm?"

"Why? Planning some major life change, are you?"

"Would you?"

"Look, when I said we should spend more time in the garden, I didn't mean-"

"Harry!" You giggle, unintentionally breaking the facade you were determined to hold up against his charm.

"Is this because I teased you about your dance moves yesterday? Because I think this is taking it a little too far." He smiles, twisting to face you and lifting his palms to squish them against your face. "You don't have to turn into a worm for me to love the way you wiggle..."

"Will you please answer the question."

"Well, I'd be very sad if you were a worm..." He replies, a mischievous smirk instantly digging into his cheek. "I don't want you to sleep in the dirt..."

"Oh, just forget it." You roll your eyes. Clearly he knows what you're trying to do, which means he's not going to give you a straight answer.

"Plus, if I was a bluebird..." He utters, pressing his lips gently against yours for a quick kiss. "It wouldn't turn out very well for you, little worm..."

"You're horrible." You pout, pushing away, turning your lamp off, scooting down, and pulling the covers right up under your chin. All in a false tantrum that he only chuckles at.

Harry slides over next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and nuzzling his face into your neck.

"I'd rather us both be rabbits."

"What? Why rabbits?"

"So we can fuck like bunn-"

"Oh my god, Harry!"

#anon ask #ask bee #send it to bee #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles concept #harry styles story #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x yn #harry fic #harry blurb #harry one shot #harry fluff #harry fanfic #harry fan fiction #harry imagine #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry x reader #harry x you #harry x y/n

[horror-beeings-artandwriting]

Adam x GN winner reader HCS?

Sure thing!

Adam is very happy he found someone, sure he has lute and she's a good friend, but GOD does he need someone to cuddle with! He can't cook for shit so most of the time he orders you two take out(Mostly ribs if I'm being honest) but he will, even if he whines about it, let you order stuff other then ribs as well. He will call you crude nicknames in public, no shame, but in private he's a bit sweeter, calling you baby, my love, sweetheart. Normal couple shit. If you do know about the extermination, he'll bring you back souvenirs he totally didn't steal from the shops the other angels ransacked. it'll start small, maybe a key chain, but one day he brought a random dog, you. still don't know where he got it. if you don't know about it, then he'll do ANYTHING to make sure you never find out! Safe to say if you are a higher rank and go to court when charlie showed up, he, started to panic a little. He doesn't really do PDA as much(other then nicknames), since (Personal hc here) I think heaven frowns upon it, not that it's straight up banned, but just looked down on. Oh but in private? yeah he's carrying you everywhere, hugging you, leaning on you(Even if he almost crushes you-) Wrapping his wings around you, you name it, he does it. Adam is cocky, he loves, LOVES even if you hate it, saying in front of a giant crowd "THIS SONG GOES OUT TO MY AMAZING PARTNER!" I will A. sing a cheesy love song or B. the most down bad, horny, jaw dropping song about your intimate life. Personally I think Adam would love watching shitty TLC dramas and laughing at how dumb they are with you, a perfect night for him would 100% be ribs, you laying in his lap while you watch 90 day fiance on the couch. He hates when other people look at you, or flirt with you, or anything, he still is pretty pissed about loosing his wives, and he sure as shit isn't loosing you to some, fucking random ass guy! I think he's like a bird, like a pet bird, can be snarky and rude, but as soon as you stop giving him attention, he screams. He loves making jokes, one day he found a rock, it looked like a guitar pick, and he with a straight face said it was for "rock music". He is TRYING key word trying to get better about his misogyny for you. He wants your friends to like him, since maybe one day, he'll ask for their blessing to marry you!

That's all I have right now but I hope you like it, I love this dork so much <3

#hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x gn reader #gn reader #fem reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #bee writes stuff #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin adam x reader #adam x you

[coffeeghoulie]

heaven's grief, hell's rain

or 2.5k about Aether's bracelet, Mountain's garden, and Dew's grucifix.

special thank you to @forlorn-crows for helping with the flowers, hope you enjoy <3

title from Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy

It's not a decision Aether makes lightly to stay behind. He's tired. He's been working doubles, between serving the band, the papacy, and serving in the infirmary. And, if he's honest, he thinks he's more useful at the Abbey, using his Lucifer-granted gifts to heal. He's always been taking care of his pack, he's good at what he does.

His pack takes it... well enough. Cirrus gracefully takes over his duties, leading the band pack as they get ready for this next tour, taking the two new summons under her wing. She takes his hand, kisses his cheek. Cumulus takes his face in her hands, presses their foreheads together, whispers that she's proud of him. Rain offers him a smile and a handshake, and Swiss kisses him between his horns and draws him into a tight hug. Sunny grins, bright like her namesake, happy someone else from the band pack is staying behind with her.

His mates, on the other hand? He can count on the claws of one hand the number of times he's ever seen Mountain cry. Dew's hands curl into fists, so tight he can smell the blood where his claws pierce his palms.

Dew storms out, the ends of his hair flickering with flame, smoke billowing from his nostrils. He hasn't been this out of control of his element since those first early days, after they knew he was going to survive the transition, barely out of the woods. Mountain follows, his steps uncharacteristically loud. Dew slams the door to his own room shut, and Mountain flees to his greenhouse.

Aether wishes that he could split himself in two, standing there, struck dumb as his mates turn their back on him. He honestly can't blame them. He fidgets with his bracelet, running his fingers along the silver chain, torn between two directions.

He goes to Dew first. Fire is far more volatile than earth, and he was Dew's before Mountain was summoned and joined their pack.

The door, surprisingly, is unlocked. It's dark, curtains drawn tight, and there's a Dew-sized lump underneath the covers. It's dusty in here, Dew spending most of his nights in Aether's oversized bed, big enough for three ghouls.

"Dew? Darling?" Aether breathes, the tension so thick he can almost taste it, the sulfur smoke scent of Dew's distress heavy on his tongue.

Dew sits up, copper eyes shining in the dark. "What are you doing here?"

Aether furrows his brow. "Checking on you, Dewey."

The fire ghoul shakes his head, covering his face with his hands as his shoulders shake. With silent laughter or tears, Aether can't quite tell. "You should have gone to Mount, Aether. I've never seen Juniper that angry."

"Dewey, I'm here," Aether breathes, taking a hesitant step towards the bed. "I'll go to Mounty, but I know you're upset too. Please."

Dew growls under his breath, grumbling as he shifts on the bed. "Don't want to lose you, Aeth," he whispers, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. He clutches the silver grucifix he always wears so tightly his already pale knuckles go white.

"You're not," Aether promises, sitting down next to his mate. He goes to wrap his arm around Dew's waist, but hesitates. "Satanas help me, Dewdrop, you will not lose me."

Dew sniffles, swallowing with a click as he grabs Aether's wrist, starts playing with the silver bracelet. He counts the links like a rosary, rotating the slightly-too-loose jewelry around Aether's wrist, lips moving in a silent prayer. "You promise?" Dew asks, voice small, not tearing his eyes away from the bracelet. Aether doesn't have to pry with his quintessence to know who he's thinking of. He's thinking of them too.

"Cross my heart," Aether says, letting Dew trace his claws along the lines of his palm.

They sit there in silence, Aether pulling Dew carefully against his side, even though the fire ghoul hasn't been fragile in a long time. "Dew," Aether breathes. "I love you so much, you know?"

Dew hums, his broken tail wrapped tight around his own thigh. "I know."

Another long lull of silence. The tension not quite broken. He pulls Dew closer, turns and presses a kiss to the sharp edge of his obsidian horn.

"Go to Mount," Dew breathes after a while. "Junie needs to hear this too."

Aether nods, pressing another kiss to Dew's cheekbone. "I love you, darling. Nothing's gonna change that."

"Love you too," Dew whispers as Aether opens the door. He smiles at his mate, slipping out of his room and heading to the outside door.

It's a long walk down to Mountain's greenhouse, the glass building nestled right at the edge of the forest surrounding the Abbey. The heavy glass door is unlocked, much to Aether's surprise, and he pushes it open slowly, the old hinges creaking as it swings inward.

Mountain doesn't turn to face him when he enters the greenhouse. He plucks the baby spider plants from their vines, moving the seedlings to smaller pots.

"Sweet thing," Aether breathes, watching the way Mountain's back stiffens. He feels his heart clench as he sees the thorny vines wrapped tight around the base of Mountain's antlers.

"Aether," Mountain says, voice even and bitten back.

"Mount, please," Aether says, taking another step towards his earth ghoul.

"You didn't talk to any of us before making this decision, even though you know it affects all of us," Mountain says, still not turning back to face him. The shears snip, metal on metal, and Aether winces.

"I'm sorry, Mount. I knew-"

"You knew what?" Mountain says, and the worst thing is that there's no anger in his tone. Just cold, still, evenness. "That if we knew that you were gonna stop touring, we'd stay behind too?"

Aether squeezes his eyes shut. They sting in the humid air, or are those just tears? He can't really tell.

"Do you mean to tell me, Aether, that you don't remember what the clergy did to Ifrit when he said no? What they did to Omega, your fucking predecessor? What they did to Zeph?" Mountain's voice cracks, fingers ghosting over a silver striped leaf, the entire vine trembling under his touch.

Aether takes a long breath. The silence is thick, never mind the humidity. "That's why I didn't tell you. I thought that if it were just me, and something happened, even though Papa promised me nothing would happen," Aether stresses, "You two would be safe and away from here. And if I came with, I would crash and burn and they would get rid of me anyways. I'm tired, Mount. I'm sorry."

Mountain turns to face him for the first time, and Aether almost stumbles back a step. Mountain's eyes are red rimmed and puffy, tearstains streaking down into his stubble, lower lip trembling. "Nova," Mountain breathes, so quietly Aether almost thinks he imagines it. "I know you went to Dew first. He'd break if you were gone. If we lost you like we did the rest of our pack. But I need you to know it would break me. I'm your mate too."

Aether can't hold back the keen that he makes when he sees his mate in distress. "They need me in the infirmary, I'm not going anywhere, sweet thing," Aether swears. He starts to twist his bracelet around his wrist, trying to keep himself level. Mountain sets down his shears, tail thrashing behind him, distress rolling off of him in waves like the scent of rotting vegetation.

"You can say that all you want, Aether, but we both know."

"Mountain," Aether says. He runs a hand over his face. "Mount."

"What do you want me to do, nova?" The earth ghoul says, voice wavering like branches in a breeze. "The decision's already been made. You're staying here, while your mates and the rest of our pack leaves. And let's be honest with ourselves. Neither of us know if you'll be here when we come back."

Aether feels something shatter deep in the core of him as he watches Mountain's steady shoulders start to shake. He rushes forward just as Mountain's knees wobble, wrapping his mate up tight in an embrace, guiding his head down into the crook of his neck as he begins to sob.

He rubs his cheek against the velvet coating Mountain's spring antlers, unable to keep his own eyes from watering as he rubs Mountain's back, every muscle tense. For once, he doesn't know what to say. He just holds him, lets him cry.

Eventually, he coaxes Mountain back behind the curtain of hanging vines to his living area, a daybed big enough for the giant and his mates, a small table and chairs tucked next to a basin sink. They sit down on the daybed, their sides pressed flush together. Mountain turns, tucks his face back in the crook of Aether's neck.

"Sweet thing," Aether breathes, praying to the Father Below he can keep his voice level. "What can I do?"

Mountain sniffles, takes a second before he answers, pulling back from Aether's throat. "I miss them, Aeth. I miss them so much."

He's not looking at him, and Aether turns to follow Mountain's line of sight. He's staring almost blankly at the flower garden that blocks off this section of the greenhouse. There's a raised bed underneath one of the rafters, with a dozen hanging baskets that create a curtain of greenery. It's a visual cacophony of colors and shapes, but it's Mountain's pride and joy. Aether knows what this garden means, who each plant represents.

There's hanging baskets of oak-leafed geraniums, dotted with little purple flowers, and ones with fuzzy clusters of edelweiss. Deep purple, almost black irises shoot up from the main bed, petals ruffled and curled at the edges, broken up by bee balm and spider lilies and white and red snapdragons. A trellis of delicate yellow jasmine blossoms stands at the edge of the bed, surrounded by daffodils and catchfly and calla lilies and baby's breath.

But Mountain's eyes are drawn to the hanging cissus discolor vines, the silver striped, deep green leaves. Aether knows exactly who Mountain's thinking of.

"I know, sweet thing," Aether breathes, staring at Mountain's garden. "I miss them too."

Mountain tears his eyes away from Zephyr's plants, snapping to face Aether. "I don't want to miss you, nova," he says, just the slightest growl at the edge of his voice. Aether cups Mountain's cheek, runs his thumb over the prickly, tear-damp stubble there.

"It'll be okay, Mount. I'll be right here with Sunny when you and Dewey come home, promise."

He takes a long, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to calm himself. "Aether, you and Dew are the only ones of the old pack I have left. Please, nova, you gotta understand."

Aether doesn't respond, just pulls him tight into another tight hug, big hand cradled against the back of his head, guiding his face back to his neck. "I know, Mounty. I know."

They sit there until the sun sinks below the treeline, and eventually, they return to the pack. Aether starts his shifts in the infirmary as his mates start rehearsals with the new ghoul and ghoulette. He has a lot of time to think, intake and discharge paperwork always on his desk, about how best he can soothe his mates with their upcoming departure. He fidgets with his bracelet as he thinks, and he lights up as it hits him. That's it.

He borrows Swiss's utility knife, flipping it open to the needlenose pliers, staring at his bracelet, a little too big for his wrist, how the silver matches the metal of the grucifixes he and his mates wear around their necks.

Aether waits until the night before the pack and Papa are due to leave to act. It takes a little finessing, because while Mountain takes his necklace off when he goes to bed, Dew never stops wearing his, but a little quintosis to put the fire ghoul in a deeper sleep doesn't hurt. He works quickly as his mates grumble in their sleep, subconsciously reacting to the empty space in their bed. Aether sets the necklaces in his nightstand when he's done, muttering under his breath as he struggles to reclasp his bracelet around his wrist one handed, fingers smelling of silver polish and metal.

Once he gets it clasped, he climbs back into bed, holding his mates close as he too sinks into a deep sleep. He's going to miss this, and that's the last thought he has before unconsciousness takes him.

He's woken by Dew scrambling in his arms. "It's- it's not here, I don't- Aeth, Mount, my grucifix-" He paws at his own chest, feeling for something under his oversized shirt that isn't there.

Aether sits up, taking Dew's face in his hands softly as Mountain groans and stretches behind them. "Sorry, love, I took it off while you were asleep. I didn't mean to make you panic, I wanted to do something for you and Mounty before you two head out."

Dew's eyes are still wide, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself down. "Aeth, what do you mean? Where's my grucifix?"

Aether nods, palms up and open as he climbs out from the tangled mess of their limbs. "I have them, they're right here," he says, opening up the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out the two necklaces. Aether sets Mountain's down, turning back to Dew.

"Let me?" Aether asks, avoiding Dew's outstretched hands. Dew takes in a shaking breath, staring up at his mate, and nods. Aether loosens the adjustable cord, slipping it over Dew's head, pulling his sleep-mussed braid through, and sets the freshly-polished grucifix right over his mate's heart.

Dew furrows his brow as Aether pulls away, fingers going to touch the new addition to the necklace; a small ring, plain, unadorned, but the same gleaming silver as the grucifix. "Aeth, is this..."

"Hmm?" Aether asks, grabbing Mountain's and humming as he clasps it around the earth ghoul's neck, his antlers too wide for an adjustable cord like Dew's. He settles the grucifix and a matching ring over his heart as well.

"Your bracelet, nova," Mountain breathes, putting voice to what Dew's unable to.

Aether nods, eyes flickering down to said bracelet. "Thought you might like to have something of mine close to you when you go."

Dew grins, even as his eyes flood with tears, and tackles Aether into a fierce hug. "You're a sappy fucking bastard, Aether," he says, even as his own voice wavers, cheek pressed to Aether's throat.

"Love you too, Dewbug," he says, catching Mountain's equally misty eyes over his shoulder. Mountain has a hand pressed to his chest, pressing the grucifix and ring against his heart. "And I love you, sweet thing."

Mountain grins, standing and wrapping his long arms around both his mates, the three of them soaking in these last moments before inevitably they have to go their separate ways.

Aether's right. Mountain and Dew don't take off their necklaces for a long time, long after they return from tour. They keep that tiny piece of their mate close to them, to where he lives inside of them no matter what happens.

#constantly having feelings trio feelings #did i ignore my wiplist and send this one straight to the top? yeah #anyways #the black irises are omega #the calla lilies are mist #spider lilies are alpha #bee balm is ifrit #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #dot's writing #aether/mountain/dewdrop #also I wanna see if my Venn diagram of ‘fob songs I’ve titled fics after’ and ‘fob songs I’ve heard live’ will be a circle again lmao

[beezlub]

a scarf won’t hide much || S.S x MC

a/n: this is entirely unproofread so excuse that. this has been rotting in my brain for the last week or so, and i needed to get it out before continuing my other works lolol. it ended up being a lot longer than i expected but eh i’m not complaining

tags: slightly suggestive themes, sebs can’t apply makeup for sh!t, overall just very fluffy. seb and mc are in their ?? 7th ?? year? something like that idk i didn’t really have a year in mind but it’s def when they’re older than 17. leander slander (i’m sorry)(not really)

wc: 1.9k

likes and reblogs greatly appreciated :)

“seb, what’s on your neck?”

shit was the first thing that came to mind when he heard your voice in his ear. luckily, the great hall was mostly empty at this time, most students not wanting to get up so early in the dead of winter, wanting to savor the remaining bits of heat embedded in their blankets. you two, on the other hand, took this to your advantage. a quiet meal together in the mornings is just what you both needed more often than not with the chaos going around the school and hamlets, you off on your broom when you didn’t have classes, and sebastian in the undercroft or library, adding books to the every-growing list he thought you’d like.

“it’s, it’s nothing, love. how’s your eggs? they’re delicious today, oh and the sausage. if you won’t eat yours, i will, along with your pumpkin juice too,” sebastian could feel his cheeks burning, prying his gaze away from your curious one. he knew his sticks were limited; you could read him like an open book, and according to a tangent you’d gone on a few months back, rambling on about something insignificant was a key sign the teen was attempting to lie about.

“you’re a terrible liar, and a worse boyfriend for trying to lie to me,” you mused, a smirk coming to your face as you twisted around to get a better view of the awfully orange section of skin on his neck. as if he felt your eyes on his neck, sebastian brought his unoccupied hand up, covering his neck in a feeble attempt to hide the blotchiness. letting out a groan, you gripped his forearm, ignoring the heat coming to your cheeks as you felt the muscle underneath his robes flex from your touch as you tried to pry away his hand. “seb! let me see! please,” you pleaded with the brunette, continuing to tug what seemed like your whole body weight down on his arm, but to your dismay, he didn’t even budge a centimetre. “if it’s a bruise from quidditch, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, love. it happens!”

letting out a groan of his own, sebastian shook his head, his fingers clamped down on his scarf and around his neck, his other hand idly pushing around the breakfast on his plate as he tried to ignore your assault of questions and comforts. how could he even begin to tell you that the awfully covered bruises on his neck were from you. his hardworking, intelligent, sweet girlfriend. he couldn’t break it to you; if he knew you as well as he hoped he did after half a year of dating, you’d be mortified at your actions from last night. a hot and heavy make out session in the room of requirement led to more than tousled hair, unbuttoned, and untucked shirts. it had led to your lips on his neck, legs wrapped around his waist as he was just putty in your hands after not seeing him properly for almost a week. ‘sickeningly sweet lovebirds' is what ominis had called you two with a fake gag when you had first started going out, and the name only became more true as the weeks flew by. now, it seemed as if you couldn’t go more than a few hours without reappearing by the other’s side, glued at the hip. amit had said you guys were star crossed lovers long before an official confession was even made from you (who was tired of sebastian’s flirtatious banter and his lack of balls to ask you out properly. you threatened him that you’d go out with prewett if he didn’t cough up an answer soon enough), and there you were last night, too caught up in each other to realise the fog that had consumed both your brains.

“MC, it’s. it’s not from quidditch,”

“then what is it from? ominis finally rocked your world with his duelling skills?” you snickered as sebastian glared at you, only for it to soften as he saw the joy in your eyes.

“something like that, i suppose.”

“wait- it wasn’t from anne was it? was she sick of your awful jokes finally and decided to take revenge?” you faked a surprised gasp, erupting into a fit of giggles as sebastian elbowed you gently in the side.

“my joke are not awful, i’ll have you know. got professor sharp to laugh at one the other day!”

“yes, dear, i know. we’ve been in the same potions class for how long now?”

“when will you stop piercing this beating heart, oh love,” sebastian let out a theatrical gasp, his hand moving from his neck unconsciously as he clutched the fabric over his heart, his head falling back to match his dramatical action. taking the opportunity, you yanked down his scarf, a nasty shade line of purple and blue hues ran down the column of his neck, and you suppressed a gasp as you tenderly ran a finger down his neck.

“sebastian! who did this to you? oh, merlin, i’m going to have their chin at the end of my wand for hurting you like this!” the anger was evident in your voice, and as much as sebastian liked seeing this rare, possessive side of you, he couldn’t hold the truth back from you any longer. you were right, he was an awful liar, and even worse at keeping things to himself.

“MC, calm down, please,” he whispered, grasping your wrist gently as he looked around the hall, making sure nobody’s prying eyes were on the two of you before yanking you off the bench and dragging you to the floo flames. before you could spew more nasty things about yourself unknowingly, he had you both inside the room of requirement. turning to face you, he could practically see the steam coming out of your ears, and he bit down a smile at the pout you had on your face. “do you really want to know?” he asked you, watching you frantically bob your head up and down.

“what kind of question is that! yes, sebastian sallow, i would in fact, love to know who did this to you! fighting with wands is one thing, but getting into a physical altercation with another student is another thing! i should go to professor weasley about this, or merlin, even professor black! they should have a week’s worth of detention, or even expelled!” sebastian could only watch with an amused look on his face as you paced right in front of him, throwing your hands up in the air every once in a while while your boots clacked on the stone of the floor. once you seemed to get most of your anger out in a verbal way, he let out a laugh. “what’s so funny, sallow? being beaten up sure isn’t, and from the looks of it, you didn’t even put up a fight! your knuckles are perfectly healed, and you don’t have any breaks on your face like you’d had when i first came.”

“you’re right, love. i didn’t put up a fight. i actually enjoyed this assault,” he watched as your jaw dropped, a smirk playing on his lips. oh, it was truly amusing to see you being so naive and forgetful.

“sebastian sallow! have you finally lost what little brain cells you have left?” you stood on your tip-toes and rattled your knuckles against his forehead, internally relieved that his brain wasn’t missing.

“you see that couch over there?” he pointed at the leather couch you had, pushed against the wall, giving a good view of the christmas tree you’d set up in the middle of the room. nodding to his question, he continued. “that’s where i was assaulted, per se.”

“but- how? only you and professor weasley know about this place. and deek, but i doubt he’d do anything to you.” sebastian was having way too much fun with this, the look of confusion and worry etched onto your features only fueled the fire in him.

“it was this awfully pretty witch who did it. she had let her hair out of her bun, and i was completely thrown off by her, having never seen it down. and her hands were all over me too, never once leaving my body. sat on my lap and everything.”

“sebastian! not only did you get assaulted, you, you cheated on me?” maybe he pushed it too far now, realising the pain in your voice and the tears pooling in your waterline. sighing, he ran a hand through his hair before looking back at you.

“MC, you are dim. it was you, love. you are the witch who assaulted me, and supposedly should get a week’s worth of detention or even expulsion.” it took a few moments for the gears to turn in your brain before it all clicked, and sebastian had a front row seat to this show. your face turned scarlet in a few mere seconds, and you’d let out a series of incomprehensible words before covering your red face with your hands. a few apologies were strewn out too, though barely audible beneath your hands and you tried to hide yourself away from the man. laughing, sebastian grasped your wrists, prying them away from your face only to be met with your teary eyes and a furious blush.

“i’m- i’m so sorry sebastian! i didn’t mean to! i-i swear!” you hiccuped a few times, and it only made sebastian laugh more as he pulled you into his chest.

“oh, my sweet witch. whatever am i going to do with you?” he asked to nobody, wrapping an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders.

“you-you aren’t mad?” you looked up at him, and his heart melted at your sorrowed expression.

“love, i am the furthest thing from mad. i quite enjoyed myself last night, and you seemed to as well, if those little breathy moans were anything to go by,” he shot a wink down at you, and you pushed his chest away from you, pouting once again.

“you aren’t funny, sallow.”

“i meant it dear. although, it would be nice for me to pay back the favor,” his voice lingered in the air as he withdrew his arms, instead interlocking your fingers together as he tugged you towards the couch.

“seb?..” you were confused, intrigued but confused as he plopped back on the couch, pulling you into his lap as you let out a yelp from the surprise.

“my little witch deserves some affection too, don’t you think?” his breath was hot on your neck, and any thoughts lingering in your brain vanishes as you felt his lips on your neck, peppering the skin in light kisses before they grew more hot.

“i-i hurt you, seb,” you breathed out, hand on his chest as he resumed his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest, his lips not leaving your neck for a moment.

“quite the contrary, dear. if anything, i should be thanking you. finally got some fifth year off my ass because of your..handiwork, and i think i should return the favor, seeing how prewett has been eyeing you again recently,” you could feel the smirk on his lips as he spoke against you skin, and instead of arguing, you just nodded along. “good,” was all he said before a harsh nip came at your throat, finally understanding what he meant by him wanting to return the favor. “after i’m done with you, i’m afraid a scarf won’t hide much, MC.”

#sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow x mc #ominis gaunt x y/n #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x mc #hogwarts legacy x you #x reader #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #leander prewett #bee’s writing

[bee-the-loser]

₊ ⊹☼ THE GIG ☼⊹ ₊ ──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────────────── ₊ ⊹☼ Pairing: Jay x reader ₊ ⊹☼ Synopsis: Reader was invited by their friend to the gig, who just so happens to be the band's stylist, and manages to make eye contact with the electric guitar player. ₊ ⊹☼ Genre: Band au, basement gig, snarky characters ₊ ⊹☼ Word count: 1,023 ₊ ⊹☼ Warnings: None that I can think of ₊ ⊹☼ A/N: This is my first time writing fanfiction and honestly it's not amazing, but I'm here to learn and practice so oh well ╮(︶▽︶)╭ ──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────────────── Maybe it was the constant talk about relationships and the expectation that you were meant to fall in love someday that resulted in the overthinking you were doing right now or maybe it was the constant force feeding of romance that media shoves down everyone’s throats; either way it resulted in those words spewing out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself.

“They’re really hot,” you mentioned, “the one playing the electric guitar on stage. He’s got that effortlessly attractive look about them, like you know they don’t even need to try to achieve it.”

Leaning back against the sidewall you were standing against, you surveyed the crowded basement room that was lit up with red LEDs, almost like a warning sign trying to alert you to change your mind before it was too late. You didn’t pay much attention to them then, but reflecting back now on that night you wish you had taken it as a sign and ran away as you were now too far gone.

You hadn’t lied though and from the looks of the crowd surrounding the old makeshift stage you weren’t the only one who had noticed it as well. Both girls and boys alike were swarming and batting their eyes at each member of the band. Honestly it made you want to puke a little with how love sick everyone seemed. He was attractive though with his bleach blond hair and a simple yet somehow sophisticated look.

Even though he had managed to catch your eye, you definitely weren’t looking for anything, mainly mentioning it to have something in common with the girls you had been talking too. Love had never been your forte, never feeling much in relation to anybody, so sometimes you would lie. You would use pretty words spoken in a sweet tone as a way to weaponize love when moments like these came about. Making the topic into a double edged sword piercing both sides of the conversation equally. Pretending to have crushes on strangers allowed you the safety net that came as a result of never seeing them ever again. You can fake being upset until the girls successfully get off your back and then you’re free from romance and couples until the cycle inevitably has to start again another time. How no-one has noticed at all shocks you but hey, you weren’t going to attract attention to your little scheme for no reason.

The tipsy girls that were keeping you company started to giggle a little more than they would usually though, and that’s when you mentally clocked back into the scene and noticed those eyes on you. Honestly, fate seemed to be a little too cliché at that point as your eyes met. Unlike the stories though, there was no fireworks or tunnel vision, you weren’t the protagonist in some romance novel, where this would be the moment that you noticed one another for the first time. In your opinion, you suited the sidekick character a lot better, being able to provide the witty commentary and call out the others on their bullshit when things started to become too much.

You certainly weren’t here for love like any of the other potential hook ups waiting to happen in the crowd that were swooning up close, instead coming to support your younger friend who had managed to become a stylist for the band somehow. You had plans to hang out together after the night ended and he got the ticket free as a bonus. Niki had always been good at fashion, but you were happy he was finally being taken seriously after some past experiences. You weren’t looking to fight anymore pissed-off strangers who got upset after he commented on their outfits, although it was unlikely those would be the last times even with his new gig.

Finally, guitar boy as you had dubbed him in your head moved his eyes off you, and the set came to a close. While the others moved outside with the swarm, trying to catch the band members when they head out, you stayed put waiting for Niki to come find you.

You were never the most patient person in the world and when 20 minutes later he still hadn’t emerged from the backstage, you were tempted to storm in without a care. Before you could move and potentially get thrown out, guitar boy entered to pack up some of the sound equipment. He noticed you at the same time you did and again the two of you locked eyes.

“Fans were meant to have left 20 minutes ago,” he snarked as he made his way to you.

“Who said anything about being a fan,” you shot back, “I’m waiting for Niki actually.”

“Oh? And how do you know him?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but we grew up together, and we’re meant to have plans to hang out this evening so he better get a move on before I leave his ass here and just go home.”

Somehow the tension seemed to be rising between the two of you, and you hadn’t realised how close you both had gotten until the creak of the stage door alerted the two of you to the situation at hand. He took a sharp step back before anyone could potentially notice and finally, Niki stumbled through with his bags, running up to you in a daze ranting about whatever topic that his hyperactive mind was focusing on right then. “Ahh y/n sorry for the wait, we can go now.” As he almost skipped up towards the exit, he seemed to clock that you weren’t alone and casted a look over his shoulder shouting “Bye Jay, hope you didn’t give them too much of a hard time”.

You grabbed some of his stuff that he dumped for you to take and slowly made your own way up the dimly lit staircase, however, before leaving you turned around one final time to see guitar boy, now known to be Jay, watching you with a somewhat intense gaze and then the doors swung shut behind you.

──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────────────────

#bee's writing #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen band au #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #enhypen fics #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #park jongseong #ni ki

[foxhanbin]

post stamps and other annoyances (or, the batfam is struggling with technical communication issues)

Everyone, come get your Batfamily juice - @jasontoddiefor and I have collab-ed on a fic for Batfam Big Bang 2022! ❤

A massive Thank You goes to: - the beta squad @nycis, @stormleviosa, and @fandomnerdfrogs! - the art squad: @doodlingdeelight, @octopus-combustion, and @blenderfullasarcasm! - and obviously, to my co-writer @jasontoddiefor who is actually the best! ❤

Thank you all so much for your time and energy! You made writing this fic a lot of fun, and it's been fantastic to see your comments and the art you've produced! ❤

post stamps and other annoyances

Summary:

A threat shatters the Bats’ communication systems. As a result, the family is spread across the globe, and has to keep in touch by other means. Some take this more seriously than others.

Tags:

No Warnings Apply

Entire Batfamily (I'm not tagging them all here)

Social Media Fic!

Epistolary

Embedded Images, Mixed Media

Hurt/Comfort

Family Feels

We are posting a chapter weekly, and the first chapter is up now! Go find it on ao3!

#dc #dc comics #batfam big bang 2022 #batfam #batfam big bang #bee writes fanfiction #fandombee.exe #fanart #jasontoddiefor #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #damian wayne #duke thomas #batfamily #post stamps and other annoyances

[freedomfireflies]

sooooo where did we land with the pussy plug for harry and bee? 👀

We landed right here hehe

“Easy, Bee. That’s a good girl. Fucking look at you. Dripping all down my sheets.”

Your lashes feel heavy. Every muscle and nerve-ending weighed down by the burden of unyielding amounts of pleasure and overstimulation.

But Harry is far from through with you.

He watches the milky white cream dance down the backs of your thighs. Watches the way it glistens from your pussy, begging to be collected by his tongue. Watches the way your body spasms as the last aftershocks of your previous orgasms roll down your spine.

“Shh,” he whispers, swiping his thumb across your swollen clit just to make you whine. “Hold still, sweet girl. Don’t wanna lose a single drop, hm?”

Your quivering lips push into a pout as you shake your head in agreement, whimpering softly while he smiles.

He retrieves the sparkling plug from the bed and gently slides the tip from your ass to your weeping hole. Collecting the runaway drops before pushing them back in. Keeping them snug inside your pussy until the plug is settled just so.

You exhale a strained breath, back arching from the duvet while Harry’s hands smooth down your legs to push them down.

“There we go,” he murmurs, lips pressing into the soft skin of your thigh reassuringly. “So fucking pretty, baby. All plugged with my cum. S’it feel good, Bee? Feel good to be so full of Daddy?”

You writhe and pant something incoherent as Harry chuckles to himself and begins to crawl up the length of your trembling body.

“Now, now,” he warns teasingly, hips rolling against yours as the object is pushed further into your cunt. “Thought this is what you wanted.”

You gasp his name and sling your arms around his neck in an effort to keep him still, squirming away from the contact. “Shit—”

“Yeah. Shit,” he agrees coyly, settling his chest atop yours. “Be grateful I’m so good to you.”

You do your best to focus on anything else but the throbbing in your cunt. The ache from so much overstimulation and the cruel sting of his edging. The way he dragged you toward that blissful finish only to leave you there before you could find it.

“Gonna keep me inside this pretty pussy while we go have dinner with your parents, yeah?” he continues, nudging his nose under your jaw, ignoring your obvious frustration.

Your eyes roll back, pulse racing. “Har—”

“Uh-uh,” he whispers firmly, hand sweeping up your ribcage. “That’s not an answer. Try again.”

With a deep breath, you scratch your nails down his neck and whimper, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you correct, clenching around the plug when he reaches down to swipe his thumb over the diamond shaped end of the toy. “Shit…yes. Gonna keep you inside me. Feels so good. So full.”

He hums appreciatively, mouth pressing to your cheek. “That’s right. Want you full of me, always. But especially tonight. Want you to sit at that table and be good.”

Suddenly, his hand is slipping around your throat and squeezing—hard. Enough to garner your attention as you swallow against his palm.

“And you will be, won’t you?” he implores sternly. “Not gonna disobey me tonight. Not gonna tease me or touch yourself while we’re out.”

The idea of sitting with his cum in your cunt is already more than you can handle. But knowing he won’t touch you or offer any sort of relief until hours later almost brings tears to your eyes. 

When his request is met with silence, his fingers curl even tighter around your neck, forcing your choked reply. “No,” you whine, arching until your chest knocks against his. “No, Daddy. Promise. Be so good.”

“Good.” He dips down and presses his lips to yours, sealing your promise with a rather sadistic kiss. “Now, I want you up and dressed.”

He smacks his hand against your outer thigh, and begins to grin.

“We’ve got a dinner to get to.”

- Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @lexiecamposva @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @xellybellyx @harrysxcarolina @reneemunson @juliatpwk @wolfmoonmusic @buckyssbestgirl @wandasbae616 @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @chubby-cheek-calum @itsmytimetoodream @finelinesss

#harry #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fan #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #smut #imagine #blurb #concept #harry drabble #harry styles smut imagine #harry writing #harry styles writing #harry styles concept #harry styles oneshot #harry and bee #teach me harry #teach me extra

[patrophthia]

hii, congrats on 600 followers!! i was wondering if you could write some theodore nott exes to lovers with slytherin or ravenclaw reader. if not, that’s fine. anyway, thank you for your time :))

this ask was sent a few moons back and im so very sorry it took me so long to get to it, i’ve just never written exes to lovers before so it was hard for me to but i tried my best here, i hope you like it!

i also got a bit carried away and went over the 600 word counts thing (this is 1.1k), and the characters are aged up/adults here so the houses aren’t the biggest focus on the story (im sorry)!

this was supposed to be part of my 600 followers celebrations but it’s been long closed!

try again | theodore nott

Blaise Zabini does not understand Theodore Nott, neither does he understand you. It baffles him on another level how you could sit there, smiling at Draco while Theodore sits across the table looking as gloom as ever. 

Maybe he was assuming things; maybe you were having a hard time but is plainly putting on a happy face to celebrate a mutual friend engagement. After all this was Draco and Astoria's day. Maybe —and he was pushing it here, if he messed with you the slightest bit, he could rile Theodore up enough to fix things between the two of you. 

"No," you say before Blaise could even get a word in. You've been friends with him long enough to know that he was planning something the second he turns to you. "Whatever you're thinking, it's a no." 

Blaise feigns a disappointed look. Placing his glass of wine down, you reciprocate his action soon after.  "But it's just a question, doll. You're not even going to let me ask you a question?"

You fix Blaise a look. One that anyone could tell you that you were ridiculing him but he only grinned, processing with his question. 

"Is it cheating for your boyfriend to zip your friend's jacket up for them?" 

Neither Blaise nor Theodore missed the glance you unconsciously cast his way. You lay your hands flat on the table, careful of your surroundings —and furthermore, words. "I don't have a boyfriend." 

Blaise cocks his head to the side. "It's a hypothetical question." 

"Okay well, hypothetically I don't have a boyfriend," you reply sneakily. And if you noticed the slight shift in Theodore's lips, biting back a laugh; you don't show it. 

Blaise rolls his eyes, turning his attention before asking the blonde the same question. Draco takes a long look at Astoria and shakes his head. "I guess not," he says first, "mostly since I'm friends with dumb-arses like you that it's only fitting you wouldn't know how to zip your jackets up yourself." 

"Ass-hat," Blaise mumbles under his breath, clearly annoyed but takes in his answer before shifting his attention back to you. "Now what about you, doll?" 

You decide to answer him this time round, maybe he didn't actually have an ulterior motive behind something for once. "I guess not," you tell him, "I just wouldn't feel very comfortable if Theo— if my partner zips someone else for them." 

"Oh?" Blaise murmurs, his eyes shining at your slip up —and to your defence, it had only been a few months since the two of you split and it was only a force of habit, it'll go away soon. Hopefully. He then turns to Nott, eyes bright and filled with curiosity. "What do you think? How would you feel if your partner did that?" 

Theodore is slow, he is careful and hesitant. He doesn't answer straight away and for a minute you remember just why the two of you didn't work out. Theodore wasn't the most willing to talk, and it's hard —it's hard when your relationship was built on communication and one of you wasn't willing to communicate. 

He gazes at you and says your name. 

"What?" You're confused, maybe a little daze from hearing Theodore say your name after months of radio silence from his part. 

"My answer is you," he says. "I agree with you." 

"Oh." You meet his eyes, dark as ever staring back at you intensely as if he was begging for you to say something else. Something more promising than just 'oh'. If you were so hellbent on communicating to the point of breaking up, then why weren't you communicating with him? "Okay."

Okay? Seriously? Blaise cannot believe his own ears. That's what you say after Theodore says that his answer is you after he was asked how he felt? Would it change how you react if he were to ask it again? It wouldn't hurt to ask again, right? 

"Then let's say," Blaise begins, "you break up with your partner because they were bad at communicating their feelings but they're still in love with you, what do you do?" 

"Blaise," Astoria hisses from the side, shooting you a cautious look. She cares more about you than the scene Blaise can cause by asking you such questions. Astoria gets up from her seat besides Draco to stand behind your chair, placing careful hands on your shoulder. "Stop asking stupid questions." 

"We're just having fun," Blaise feigns a pout. "What would you do, the future Mrs. Malfoy?" 

Her cheeks tint pink at the nickname, her hand squeezing your shoulder comfortingly. "I'd talk to them and let them know how I feel." 

"What about you?" He turns to Theodore who's eyes linger on Astoria's hand. "What would you do?" 

Theodore wants to say something sarcastic in return, but he doesn't know what to say. He's never been the talkative one in the room, he was the one who listened and learned. So instead of saying something somewhat mean, he answered truthfully instead. "I'd  tell them that I'd learned from the past and will try to change myself for them, after all they should know that I'm always on their side." 

Okay, maybe the few glasses of wine has his lips loosening up a little. Because if it hasn't, Theodore would've never admitted any of what he'd said —nor what he would continue on to say. "Even if we have to start again and talk the long way round, I'd still feel the same way about them." 

"And what is that feeling, Nott?" Blaise eggs on, reaching for the wine bottle for a refill on his own glass. 

"I don't know," Theodore admits, his gaze turning to you now. "I just want to try again."

His voice is gentle, pleading even as he says his final words. The table goes silent and Blaise feels the slightest bit of guilt, knowing that he'd been responsible for dampening the mood during somebody else's engagement celebrations. Maybe he should've thought this through. 

Theodore's eyes are soft, a stark contrast against the darkness of his eyes and even though it seemed like his gaze was fixed on you; he wasn't looking directly at you but rather something slightly above you. Avoiding your gaze at all costs. 

You've thought about trying again. Over and over again you've mulled over the idea. If Theodore told you how he felt more and you learned to read him better, would everything be alright? It's not like you can know right? Not unless you try again? 

"Okay." And then there's word again, but instead of having shoulders deflate this time round, there seems to be a glimmer of hope right before you follow up with your next words. "Let's try again."

#— requests #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott blurbs #theodore nott x you #theodore nott angst #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theo nott fanfiction #theo nott x you #theo nott fanfic #theo nott Angst #— blurbs with bee #🧳: my writing

[d0lly4ng3lgutz]

Writing fanfic is wild

#writing #fanfic #fanfiction #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #silver the hedgehog #maria robotnik #charmy bee #rouge the bat #amy rose #the magnus archives #tma #tma podcast #sth #sth au #mephiles sonic #mephiles the dark #mephiles the hedgehog

[spacecowboyhotch]

The Bee & the Bear, Chapter 1: And Then There Were Four

summary: Mikey’s death brings the gang back together again.

pairing: carmy berzatto x f!reader (Bee)

contents: 18+/NSFW/heavy content, mention of suicide/mental illness, grief, longing, pining, angst, friends to strangersish to lovers

wc: 2.1k

an: this is my first time writing for the Bear so i beg of you to go easy on me.

series masterlist

The sky is gray and cloudy and birds are singing softly, perched in dead trees. There’s snow on the ground, crunching beneath the weight of everyone’s shoes. Beneath the weight of everyone’s grief, so heavy it's palpable. It’s the coldest day of the year, fitting for the occasion. Because Mikey’s dead, taken from all of you with his own hand.

You’re sandwiched between Sugar and Richie, to keep them apart, to keep them together. Regardless of their history and their care for each other, it's always touch and go– a disaster waiting to happen. But with you here and in the flesh after so many years, they’re both trying to balance that fucked up mixture of happiness from seeing your face and the pure despair from losing Mikey.

“Thank you for comin’, sweetheart,” Richie squeezes your shoulders, his eyes soft and watery when you look up at him.

You lean more firmly into his side, “You know I wouldn’t miss it.”

“You know who would.”

You know exactly who he’s talking about. Carmy isn’t here, and while anyone else would expect him to show up to his brother’s funeral it had not surprised you. Not with how the last several years have gone. Richie’s words make you sigh tiredly, and you give him a stern look. The last thing that Mikey’s funeral needs is more blaming. That didn’t start at Mikey’s funeral though, the Berzattos have pointed fingers at each other for as long as you can remember.

There are faces familiar and not around you, all of them turned to the ground, paying their last respects to Mikey. This hurts, it hurts deeper than anything you’ve ever felt before. Since you’d gotten that phone call from Sugar something heavy and dark has sat in the pit of your stomach, taking root and finding its home there. Life has always been the 5 of you, even with you and Carmy strewn across the country. You and Mikey and Carmy and Sugar and Richie. A reality that you’d always known, that you found comfort in on days you felt a little too homesick. Your relationships with all of them heavily inspired your art, they had become your family.

As you watch Mikey’s casket be lowered into the ground you can’t help but feel like your lens on life has shifted. For the first time in a long time, you aren’t completely sure where anything goes.

—

“Are you hungry?” Sugar asks as the two of you shed your coats and head into her kitchen.

There was no repass, what with the restaurant currently closed. Everyone had agreed it didn’t feel right to eat anything but The Beef in Mikey’s honor. There had been one last huddle, shared goodbyes and I love yous, and many tears before everyone had dispersed. You’d promised Sugar that you’d help her sort through everything since Carmy never showed up.

“Starving.”

She sets the file box full of Mikey’s paperwork on the counter and takes a step towards the fridge, “I’ll make us something.”

You rest your hand over hers, shaking your head, “No, it’s good, Sugar. Sit, start sifting, I’ll do it.”

“You sure?” She asks skeptically– sure you know how to work your way around a kitchen-- its impossible not to with Mikey and Carmy-- before you’ve never been known for being a cook. You're the artist, the traditional creative of the bunch who has mess and color strewn all about.

“I’m sure, just let me help. It’s what I’m here for, yeah?”

Her eyes go a little soft and she nods, “Yeah, okay.”

She goes to sit at the breakfast bar, looking at the pile of documents that hold Mikey’s life. Heaps and heaps of paper that mean nothing to her. That do a terrible job of capturing who Mikey was and what his life meant to others.

You open the fridge, poking through the contents as if you’ve done this a million times. That’s just how things are with Sugar, they’re comfortable– always have been and always will be. She has the ingredients for their mom’s chicken piccata in her fridge and you quickly fetch them and the proper tools.

Sugar does her best to stay on task, but the sounds of someone else in the kitchen, and the smell of her mother’s food are distracting. She watches the flick of your wrist and the speed of your knife. You dice and sprinkle and stir in similar ways to her brothers. It’s impossible to notice.

“You look like them,” She says, her voice a little melancholic.

“Look like who?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder at her in concern.

The smile on her face is wistful, “Like Mikey. Like Carmy. Carmy especially.”

Something in your chest cracks. You turn back to the pan in front of you, spooning sauce over the chicken one too many times, just to stay away from the tender look on her face. “They did teach me the basics.”

She’s silent for a moment, battling herself, wondering if she should ask this question. It’s a touchy subject, it always has been despite your closeness but she just had to know. “I sorta know the answer to this, but did you…did you try?”

“Don’t start with me, Nat.”

“I just want to know,” She assures you gently. “Did you really try?”

You reach for the jar of capers angrily, though this is less about the anger and more about the hurt. About the longing, this brings up. “He treated me just like everyone else. There was nothing for me to try.”

“You know Carmen’s always had a soft spot for you.”

“Not soft enough to follow through on his words,” You mumble sourly.

She goes quiet then because you’re right. Carmy had taken off for culinary school and seemingly never looked back, besides the infamous Christmas– the one you don’t even know about. All of his promises of staying in touch and showing each other new worlds fell flat.

You had tried. You offered to take him on a food crawl through Seattle where you were going to art school.

“Oh my fucking god,” She grits out, the shock in her voice sending you into fight or flight. The plate in your hand clatters to the counter without breaking, thankfully.

You turn to her, leaning across the counter, “What? What’s wrong?”

Her eyes continue to scan the page in front of her, over and over as if the letters will say something different. “Michael you fucking— he left Bear the restaurant.”

“He what?”

“Fucking Mikey,” She stands abruptly, scrubbing her face with her hands. “Ok, ok, um–uh–can you call Bear? I’m gonna call Richie.”

“Me? Call Carmy?”

Was the man that you’d fallen in love with when he was just a little boy really still out there? Sure, he was— living and breathing, walking and cooking and testing. But, all of that was mechanical. Was his smile still the same? His laugh? Did a heart still beat in that empty chest of his? Did his blue eyes still hold as much as Lake Michigan?

Sugar sees your panic, face softening with concern, “We both know he won’t answer, you’ll be fine.”

“But—“

“Please, Bee?”

The name that Sugar calls you knocks the breath from your lungs. It’s been a long, long time since anyone has called you that— since you left for college. Since the last time you’d seen Carmy. Would he still call you that? He’d started it after all. Named you Bee because you were obsessed with painting flowers, they covered your room, all of your canvas and anything else your parents deemed invaluable enough to lose to your hobby turned career.

“Hey, you okay?” She asks when you don’t respond after several seconds.

You blink a few times before refocusing on her. You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, “What? Yeah, just fine.”

Her brow furrows, and she steps closer reaching out to run her hand up and down your arm, “Are you sure?”

You give a smile that doesn’t touch your eyes and fish your phone out of your pocket, “Yeah, I’m good. I’ll go call Carmy.”

Before Sugar can respond you make your way to the front door and let yourself out. You’re met with the frigid Chicago air, the wind whipping at your cheeks. With your coat inside, the cold chills you to the bone but the feeling is welcome. It shocks your nervous system in a way that makes it easier to call Carmy. Your head is clear, and most of your focus is now on warming your fingers as you dial his number and start to pace.

Sugar was right– he doesn’t answer. It rings and rings and rings until you hear his voice for the first time in years. It's the same message that he’d set years ago: Hey, it's Carmy. Let it rip at the beep.

Many beats of silence pass before you realize that it's time for you to speak.

“Oh fuck, sorry. H-Hi, Carmen. It’s…it’s me. Nat and I just went through Mikey’s will and well…he left it to you. The Beef I mean, it’s yours. Sugar really needs you to come home to figure this out.”

You pause for a moment, wondering if you should say anything about yourself. About your friendship that he’s let crumble. About your heart that he’s ground into dust with each day that goes by with no contact. No that won’t do.

“Just come home and help your fucking sister. Please, Carmy,” You plead softly before hanging up.

You aren’t sure if that was a good enough attempt, but you don’t want to risk calling back and having to face him. Despite your worry, it does the trick.

—

You and Sugar are tucked in Mikey’s office, combing through records of unpaid pills and disorganized expense reports when it happens.

“Cousin!” Richie yells with just enough disbelief in his voice for you to know.

You and Sugar look at each other with wide eyes, hands frozen and full of stacks of paper. You can hear them clambering through the restaurant, making their way to you and you wish that some freak accident that denies the laws of physics would swallow you up.

To your dismay, It doesn’t.

Carmy and Richie round the corner, and you’re a goner like you’ve been all these years. Soft blue eyes that give the crystal skies a run for their money and a messy mop of ashy hair. It doesn’t matter that a man waits for you at home or how many times you’ve told yourself that you’re over Carmy. It never sticks, you don’t know why you thought it would. You were hoping that he’d hurt you enough for it to fade.

Carmy stops in his tracks at the sight of you, throwing Richie a look that clearly says “you couldn’t have warned me”. You aren’t sure how to interpret it– was he excited to see you? Upset?

He stuffs his hands into his pockets nervously and leans against the door frame. “Hi. Hey,” He means to say it to you and Sugar, but his eyes don’t leave your face.

“Hey,” You squeak, cheeks heating in embarrassment. You clear your throat and try again. “Hi, Carmen.”

“Hey, Bear,” Sugar waves her hand playfully as if she’s trying to get his attention, and his eyes finally flit over to her.

He smiles, one that you know is genuine despite that lack of teeth. His eyes drop to the ground and he nods a few times before glancing to Natalie again. “So he left it to me,” He says lamely.

“Yeah, Carmy, he left it to you,” Sugar repeats his words, frustrated not only with Carmy for his late arrival or for his lack of appearance at his own brother’s funeral but for this entire situation.

None of them should be here trying to figure this out. Mikey should be in this kitchen with Richie, she should be at home thinking about what she and Pete for dinner. And though this finally brought you and Carmy home, she wishes that things were the way they were just a few short weeks ago. She wants Mikey alive.

“Guess that means I should open it.”

Richie gives out a shout before clapping Carmy on the shoulder, “See now I like the sound of that, cousin.”

Carmy flinches under Richie’s touch, hoping no one will notice. It's not something he wants to talk about or even think about. He can feel your eyes on him and quickly makes up an excuse to put some space between the two of you. “I’m gonna go check out the stock in the fridge. It— uh, good to see you, Bee.”

You nod awkwardly, though those simple words make your heart race, “You too, Carmy.”

Richie doesn’t follow after him, stepping into the office and crossing his arms. The three of you sit there in a silence that screams he has something to say.

“Just say it, Richie. Fuck’s sake,” Sugar finally says, rubbing her temples.

Your brow furrows as your head whips from side to side to look between them. “Say what?”

“You know he’ll notice, right?” Richie asks you, leaning back against the desk.

“Notice what?”

Richie looks at Sugar expectantly, and she sighs, rubbing at her temples again. She fixes you with a look that is as sympathetic as it is accusatory, “That you don’t call him Bear anymore.”

| > chapter 2: Back in the Beef

let me know if you’d like to be on the carmy taglist!

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x fem!reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fic #carmy berzatto angst #the bear fanfiction #not sfw #arson writes the bear #the bee and the bear

[gallawitchxx]

hi buds, hello, hey! we're back? last year, i started writing this au 100 words at a time per the weekly prompts from @galladrabbles. you can read the first chapter HERE (& you really should! just to know what's going on!) & then i suppose we'll just keep this party going as new prompts come out! thank you to @gillyp for reminding me that this story is still incomplete & thank you all for reading! xx

chapter two starts with installment #19 for the week of february 05, 2024: "Have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces." by @energievie

✺ | ✺ | ✺ | ✺ | ✺

Ian’s knuckles pulse from the pert pace at which he raps on the Milkovich door.

It’s torture to just stand there and wait, held captive and stripped bare, nerves torn to pieces and praying for a little compassion.

He hopes Mickey’s home. They never confirmed his appointment. Ian’s just going off of his final words—Come back. Next week. Or whenever. Try this again.—before he turned away to find another cigarette.

Ian’s watched the entirety of their last encounter on a loop ever since, like a fucked up foreign film. No subtitles, just mixed (smoke) signals, confusion, and Mickey.

#let's get back into it? #askjalkfj - do we even remember this story? #i barely doooo #lolol #but this was fun to revisit! #i truly think i do my best writing 100 words at a time #crystal ball weed bong mickey ily #bright eyed bootlicker ian you are so precious #shameless #shameless fanfiction #galladrabbles #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #bee writes 🐝 ✍🏼