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shijiujun · 3 years

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on the danmei twitter fight

okay guys i didn’t wanna say anything about this and yes it’s that hot danmei twitter translations saga thing that’s going on, because honestly i feel like there’s nothing much to say but when i see dumb posts on tumblr taking about that, by people who present a misleading hot take and their friends or moots run off with it without even knowing what exactly is going on - it really pisses me off.

and also if you shit talk translators for not continuing their translations or locking their translations whatever - the door is that way on your right and left, but anyway here’s a rundown on what happened because i am seeing people make comments without two brain cells put together, without the slightest bit of consideration for the people who bring them translations

here’s my hot take and thesis: if you enjoy english translations made by fan translators, you don’t, in any way, no matter happens, shit talk fan translators. fan translators do this for free, and whatever their intentions are, whether genuine sharing or like some of you like to say, for clout, if you consume, and you enjoy these translations, i’m sorry, you’re not uninvolved, and you don’t get to sit on a high horse and say translators should or shouldn’t do something. you should just keep quiet, honestly, because someone else is doing you a favour, a favour that you are enjoying and taking. that’s what respect is.

i’m presenting both sides or i guess three sides of the story as objectively as i can, altho my support is still for fan translators who were just minding their own business before this blew up.

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🔺 what happened:

so it started because one of the bigger translators in the fandom did this poll - i’m not blaming her at all, i doubt she had any intentions of shaming anyone or causing any controversy and was plain curious, but her poll asked english speaking danmei twitter how many people buy the digital, print copies of the danmei they read, and who did not.

in my honest opinion, it’s not strange at all for her to have created that poll, considering just how much work she’s put into making sure things are accessible for the eng-speaking danmei fandom. i mean i’d be curious too, to know out of my thousands of readers, what the reading and buying behaviour is like. do yourself a favour and don’t read too much into it.

obviously in an era where a lot of people do consume content for free whether the underlying content is profit-making (like anime, donghua, manhua, manga etc.) or not (fanfiction etc.), it was unsurprising to see that the last option - the ones who consume danmei without paying a single cent, came out as the majority. i don’t think this is a surprising result at all, for all sorts of reasons that i will not get into now.

anyway, this is obviously kind of a sore point in the fandom especially for translators who want a wider audience to support their fave author’s works - i won’t get into that for now, but the issue began because other translators or fans started to criticize the majority of people who don’t pay for objectively rather affordable danmei and just consume things for free.

and yes, i don’t deny that the argument on both sides got really heated and emotionally charged with both sides calling each other names which i believe is uncalled for, but it totally derailed the crux of the issue, which basically is that the majority of english-speaking danmei fandom - consumes danmei for free.

anyway this whole thing escalated and fan translators were brought into this for no fucking reason at all except that the people who didn’t want, or were unable to pay for the danmei they usually consume, made what i call a LOGICAL FALLACY in argument by going to the extremes, i will explain why later.

the end result is that fan translators were brought into this (most of them, the bigger ones i know at least) without even participating in the direct crossfire. and obviously, you can see why they’re hurt and decided to lock their translations. let me explain why

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🔺 kind of like four camps:

(1) translators and fans who criticized those who consume danmei liberally but do not pay for them in any way - no merch, no digital copies, no physical copies, no audio dramas whatever

*** their arguments:

danmei is so cheap right, that technically people should be able to pay for it in one way or another, even if not all

danmei and its authors are, at the end of the day, out here to earn a living, and the industry, like any money-making industry, is a for-profit enterprise - and unlike public goods, if you cannot afford danmei, then there is no obligation for others to make it free for you (fan translators or otherwise, it wasn’t super clearly stated while this shitshow happened) when it is inherently a for-profit industry

yes, i don’t deny that some of them did call the peeps who don’t pay at all, “leeches” and other sort of names. personally, i wouldn’t go that far or even like venture there to be honest because in general, if it’s something that i’ll get punched in the face for if i called someone that in real life i tend not to do it, but i’ll leave my opinions, whatever they’re worth, for later

(2) the readers and fans of danmei who do not pay in any sort of way for them

*** their arguments:

some of them really cannot afford, even the dollar or more, to spend on danmei for several reasons: upbringing, culture, money-spending mindsets, real poverty, struggling to make ends meet etc. - some definitely more valid than others (and when i say not valid, it’s because SOME, a minority or like those few stragglers, say they cannot afford and then you see them like idk, throwing $50 on other merch on kpop and stuff - i’m just bringing up ONE example. not shaming anyone for spending more money on one aspect rather than the other, but yeah you can see why some of them, when making this same argument, are a little invalid, that’s just a small number of them tho)

if translators are blaming them for consuming free of charge, then the fault lies, at its foundation, fan translators who translate illegally, which i mean, in that definition, all of them including me

did i mention that we were called illegal translators like you know in response to being called leeches? anyway-

(3) others translators who literally were just minding their own fucking business before some smart alec dragged them into it

i don’t think most of us had an argument. we were just quietly munching on popcorn and staying out of it and yeah, can you imagine, we provide a service, however illegal it is, for free on our own time, we don’t even check whether people support legally or not, we just... provide, and pray that those who are able to, at least support in some small way or another do so, on their own time. i mean i don’t check, most of us don’t, not the bouncers at your local club before COVID happened do, and then suddenly, to be used to derail an argument, we were called illegal translators. and that we should stop translating, and that it is our fault that there are free riders in the fandom

(4) people who offered to provide JJWXC credits to those who said they couldn’t afford it etc.

honestly i think they were just trying to help - no different than a gofundme. there’s no shame in taking a free thing that people already weren’t intending to pay for. it’s there, just take it!

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🔺 the shitshow that led to fan translators locking their stuff up:

i would provide some actual examples in the form of screenshots but i’ve blocked most of them, and i don’t want to direct any sort of traffic to them so i guess you’ll have to take my word on it or go search on twitter yourself but-

(1) the affordability issue: i can understand the frustration at being called leeches, and some if not a majority of people, do have valid reasons for not being able to afford something or anything and end up pirating content they enjoy. hey, i am not about to crucify anyone for pirating at some point in their lives. we all have done it at some point, or for example hate disney+ and that $30 they were trying to rip off us for a subpar Mulan live action. i don’t have anything to say about that. inherently, is it wrong and illegal? yeah sure of course it is. do we call people leeches? i wouldn’t go that far.

if anyone cannot afford, cannot access for whatever reason, fine, i’m not gonna go check if jjwxc truly is banned in your country, or is your postal service so terrible that you definitely won’t be able to receive a hard copy of the book you like at affordable rates.

and if you have to pirate? go ahead. i mean it’s always been a rampant thing. the only thing fan translators and fans can do is encourage, motivate and incentivise as much as possible to get people to support legally. they can only put up REALLY COMPREHENSIVE guides as to how to access jjwxc or taobao or whatever.

and if you still cannot afford it and pirate, honestly no one cares about the story behind it. you owe no one justification, just as how no other person is obligated to take it into consideration or understand you or empathize with you. i don’t say this in a malicious way - i do think that in general, you just do you.

(2) the poor people don’t deserve nice things argument: honestly, this was not the point of this entire debacle, altho yes, people were rude to those who could not afford to support legally. but this is not the point of this whole thing.

main point - there are free riders who can support but choose not to because they choose to just consume it for free and if you are able to you should support

everyone going off on a tangent - you guys hate poor people / you guys are leeches

well guess what, no one wins in this argument.

there were a lot of people saying “reading danmei is our only source of happiness, are you saying poor people who can’t access legally don’t deserve to read danmei” (this is just one example i’ve seen, there are other variations), and it wasn’t put across perhaps in the right way, but the other camp of people were saying “you’re not entitled to it for free if you cannot afford it”, which raised a lot of hackles and anti-poor yellings

altho i do not deny that there are those who mean it maliciously, i think what everyone is trying to say is - the danmei industry, like any other profit-making industry, is looking to make profits. the people working in the industry, the authors even, are looking at numbers - traffic to jjwxc or other legal platforms, how much revenue they’re making from their live actions etc., comments, rankings, etc. i think @/hunxi-after-hours made a really succinct post on this aspect which yall should read.

it’s the same as - if you wanted to purchase a standee which costs $20 USD, but you cannot afford it = you don’t get it. there’s no way you can get this standee unless some gifts it to you for free. what the camp trying to ask people to support legally is saying, is that danmei is NOT A PUBLIC GOOD. it is a private, for-profit product. it might be intangible, but it is a PRODUCT that has a price that needs to be paid.

if you cannot afford it, you either don’t get access entirely (i’m saying this objectively and honestly from an economic standpoint). if someone gifts that standee to you for free, count yourself lucky - if someone makes a danmei accessible to you for free, COUNT YOURSELF LUCKY. you don’t have to be grateful and treat them as gods or like obey their every word, but it’s not rocket science. someone did you a favour that you accepted and consumed, show some respect.

if you cannot afford to buy the standee - you do not go on twitter demanding that someone ensures that you have access to the standee for free. do you see how ridiculous this sounds once it’s a tangible product? and danmei novels ARE PRODUCTS. they are not FREE CONTENT. if someone cannot afford the standee, this is the equivalent of people going “we didn’t get the standee for free because poor people don’t deserve nice things”

totally missing the point. i don’t even know how it got to this. once again, i do admit that some users were unnecessarily mean, but going to the extreme of this is ridiculous. in argumentative essay writing we call this a logical fallacy:

e.g. “if you cannot pay for merchandise or danmei, it is a fact that you might not have access to it” morphing into “if we cannot pay for food, does this mean we cannot have access to it?!” - this is a slippery slope, and factors are not equivalent!!!! do they not teach people anything in school

don’t confuse fanfiction with danmei - danmei novels ARE PAID PRODUCTS unless for free chapters, just because it’s released online doesn’t mean it’s free public property, and also selected novels (did you guys know the WHOLE of SCI novel is free? about 500 chapters sorry, random, just a tidbit)

there are of course nuances right, like if anyone told me they were pirating disney+ content i’d be like yeah hey get one over those bloodsuckers, they take enough of our money and produce shit content anyway. the difference is that danmei authors, and the danmei industry itself can still be considered a nascent and not-yet matured industry, with a majority of authors if not all, depending on monetary flow, likes, comments, virality on the sites their content is hosted on, for a living, unlike hugeass MNCs trying to squeeze us dry for content that isn’t even interesting.

danmei is priced rather reasonably - and this brings me to another argument that was made, that the value of money is not the same for everyone. i don’t want to make comments on this because yes this is correct to a large extent. a $6 book might be cheap to most of us, but might be expensive to someone else. i’m not gonna comment on how cheap or whatever it is, if you gotta use your money for other things, definitely! i still maintain however, that a novel less than a dollar should be affordable to most people, a majority of people. and i definitely side eye some users who obviously have money but are just creating noise because they wanna continue free-riding

(4) the “they’re losing out on their international audience” argument: honestly, i feel like english-speaking danmei fandom gives themselves a bit too much credit. danmei has long thrived in china in its domestic market - sure the international audience is a plus to have and i’m sure the authors are grateful and flattered that people who don’t understand chinese love their content and love it a lot, but do they and their companies care about fans who basically don’t bring in money? i’m not sure (okay i’ll get to the fan translators doing illegal shit later okay i got it don’t be impatient)

and international fans are great, i don’t deny that - but when i see arguments like “oh but it’s their loss if they don’t cater or deny access to us, they get more popularity and sharing overseas”, i honestly think they don’t care as much as you think. once again, hunxi made a really good argument regarding non-sinophone audiences, but it really irks me, because this is the same as:

an instagram influencer saying they’ll give a restaurant exposure for free to their followers, if they get a free meal

it’s par for par - danmei authors wants earnings, popularity, tangible results that show that they are succeeding. this is life. if i put something out there for sale, i better be getting returns, simple economic logic. they probably don’t care that a non-paying reader is bringing them greater ‘exposure’ - once again, i mean this objectively.

and yes if they’re thriving without the international market then why should it matter that people are pirating right? which brings me to the next point~

(5) it’s fan translators faults for so many people pirating, and fan translators are the ones doing the “illegal” work: this one is like... wow where do i unpack this and how-

firstly, we are talking about assholes who can pay but decide to free ride and not pay for danmei, and we assume that if you really cannot afford and have to pirate, no one’s saying anything as long as you don’t go around spreading how to pirate, how the hell did it get to fan translators from “you guys are anti-poor” and whatever

yes, fan translations are indeed illegal, i don’t deny that, and i also don’t deny that there are translators who translate for clout and popularity but putting these aside - here’s what i have seen from people who ran their mouths and made this argument

“if you guys care about us pirating the book so much than fan translators shouldn’t have translated in the first place” and “if you wanna come after us for reading illegally, then fan translators, you guys should go get the copyright for the book and then translate it cuz what you guys are doing is also illegal”

hooooo i’m telling ya, i am all for translators locking up their translations at this point. see how fucking hurtful that is? you eat from my hand and then now you biting at the hand that fed you the gays in love?

honestly if you’ve made this argument or supported this, you can basically go to hell. yes this is personal because what, you think fan translators don’t take out their personal time and effort and hard work to make translations accessible to you? if you’re ever consumed and read translations, don’t be a hypocrite and make this argument. you benefitted from it, now you wanna say it’s their fault?

most translators want to share and spread the love they have for a novel right, want to show you how wonderful all these authors are, how much enjoyment u get from reading these wonderfully thought out stories of gays in love. yes we all know we are illegally translating, which is why on top of sharing we first, purchase the novels legally ourselves first, and then we try to encourage people to buy etc. and actually put their money to use. it doesn’t make it any less illegal, but we are bridging the gap between danmei and basically the english-speaking fandom, albeit illegally

we aren’t that self-important to ask for gratefulness but some respect would be nice. like i said, you read it, you consumed it, you enjoyed it, you can only access it because of illegal translators - a bit counter-intuitive to yell at these translators, who are simply telling you, if you can, please support. and none of us went “if you cannot afford, begone!”

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🔺 some people tried to help by offering jjwxc credits so people who cannot afford as they say, can get legal access: honestly, just take it right, guess what some of these users did in response

they said the people giving away credits are trying to redeem themselves for their comments by giving away free stuff

they also said that we are trying to shame the people who cannot afford it with this handout to them, to show that they are the bigger person - the fact that they think this is a handout to them is TELLING. the people offering this is giving their money not to these readers, but to the authors! that’s the point of this exercise!!!

one of them even said “instead of trying to do these giveaways, here, there are greater world problems out there, donate instead to these causes” - love the initiative, but how did we get from being able to afford danmei and entertainment content to saving the world? i just- i cannot

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🔺 so why i get why fan translators are locking up their translations, because wow, so hurtful:

you have no idea how many fucking assholes went “sure, lock up your translations, deal with the consequences” - ermmmm firstly, thanks for making a threat. like who the fuck do you think you are?

the consequences is... the authors still don’t get the money these free riders weren’t going to give them anyway, so no loss, and they weren’t reading on jjwxc anyway so you know, the authors don’t lose or gain any readership numbers or traffic they didn’t already have. instead, it WILL push and force people to pay for the PRODUCT. once again, it’s a product.

this works, and i’d say Word of Honor’s payment model worked marvellously for Youku, because they fucking forced everyone to pay to access content. ALL OF THEM. sure ok some people still pirated it, but how many MORE people paid on Youku, on Youku Youtube, watched on Viki etc. than if they didn’t? even english-speaking fandom were wracking their brains trying to purchase a Youku pass even if there were no subs initially - and other examples that lovely hunxi brought up in her amazing piece

and for translators?! honestly me for one, i’m glad i don’t feel pressured anymore to churn out a chapter every week since we get called names etc. most of us are glad to have a break to be honest. we’ve lost all motivation to translate because it’s a free service, at the very least we don’t expect like hate, or rudeass fuckers. for those who are doing a proof of purchase thing - go for it honestly!

hopefully it’ll minimize the free rider problem - some people for whatever reasons really cannot buy or support legally, that’s totally cool and they don’t have to justify it, i get that. but for others making the same argument but obviously are just unwilling to pay because they can’t read chinese, think it’s too troublesome when there are guides and translators provide it for free anyway so what’s the point - we all make concessions and make decisions to grab what we like (not talking about the ppl who have their various troubles and difficulties!)

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🔺 and those who are saying why is it the ‘rest of us suffer’ from locked translations just because of a few bad apples:

IT ISN’T ABOUT YOU. where the hell were all of ya when we were getting called illegal huh? it’s about us fan translators getting shot at for no reason, and then people still demanding things for free. i don’t see any of the people i’ve seen on tumblr complain about fan translators stopping or locking translations defend any of us in any way. instead, you’re complaining.

it is the translator’s prerogative to start, stop and end translations, unless of course the original author starts to sue i suppose. i see people on tumblr going like if they were gonna do this, they shouldn’t have started in the first place etc. - i don’t what world you live in, but when i do something for free, then get called names and am attacked or get dictated on how i should do something that’s already like free, i tend to be less generous.

i’m sorry, do us illegal and free translators owe ANY OF YOU? i wasn’t aware any of us were being paid for this hobby. readers, especially those who CAN and just refuse to support, don’t get to say SHIT. translators deal with so much shit and so many entitled readers, i say they get to lock whatever they want as long as they aren’t profiting off of this monetarily.

let me give you an example - nan chan, which is translated by lian yin, completed translations by the way for all chapters. it is all free for viewing, and she only locked up one extra and asked for proof of payment. some dumbfuck quotes that locked up extra chapter tweet and said “honestly, this turned me off reading this novel because they restricted access”.

the. fucking. entitlement. the whole of nan chan is free, that’s like what more than 80 chapters. she locked up the EXTRA and the money goes to the author, she doesn’t earn anything. AND HERE THAT BIJ is (yes, i’m going to call them names because you know, fucking asshole who didn’t bother to check) going “yeah i didn’t wanna read because 1/80+ chapters were locked”.

AN EXTRA. LITERALLY AN EXTRA!!!!!!

at the end of the day, translators are not like DYING to translate, not like some of you are DYING to read the translations. once again, this isn’t a “BE GRATEFUL” message, it’s a please be respectful to the people who put in time and hard work for free and share the goodness ya know? what’s the use of yelling at fan translators as if we owe you anything?

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🔴🔴🔴 TOO LONG DIDN’T READ 🔴🔴🔴

some people may need really need to pirate - and no one needs to justify why they cannot afford to purchase etc. pirating happens all the time, translators only hope that when you can, and in whatever way you can, to support legally - in general we don’t ask and we get it! we’re just annoyed that some people think that it SHOULD BE FREE, when it is a paid product, especially for those who CAN afford it

readers are not entitled to shit on translators for what they do with their translations - once again, you’re not OBLIGATED to have it. so what if i start and stop? i’m the one doing the work, i get the only say. don’t be a hypocrite and shit on translators, whose works you’ve read - it’s no loss for translators, we read and enjoy danmei just fine

yes, fan translations are illegal, but you can’t read and enjoy them like some of you have, and then turn around and point the finger at translators - a lot of us are happy to stop translating - this isn’t a threat, but at the end of the day, shitting on translators simply decreases access, and sure, some people can indeed live with you know, MTL or shitty translations from people who’ve learnt chinese for only six months or whatever, but you’re gonna be reading an entirely different book tbh

the people saying illegal translators are at fault - funnily enough, most of them consume the translations, so what the fuck? i mean we know it’s illegal, we’re trying to share the love and trying to minimize the illegalities of it by redirecting people to hopefully support legally. it’s still illegal yes, but i think it’s hypocritical for people who have read translations, stab translators in the back. and now that translators are indeed ‘restricting’ and ‘removing’ their ‘illegal translations’, yall yelling again? and threatening?

fan translators aren’t “elitist” or “classist” - just looking for some respect in a community which seems to have taken them for granted, and also looking for support for their fave authors - and honestly a lot of us were caught in the crossfires truly, don’t be an asshole and demand things from fan translators - who are you talking about? do you know why they decided to lock? do you know know what their locking system is like and what for?

it’s not EASY to lock the translations up - it’s more admin work, it’s putting together a whitelist of people, if given the choice i’m sure translators would prefer to share everything. but not when there are assholes who have a comment on how they should translate etc. and yeah!!! calling us illegal!! i mean we are but still!!

the last straw was seeing that post on tumblr and people in the comments going like fan translators shouldn’t or should do something, without getting the whole picture, without even considering how hard it is for fan translators being caught in this situation.

whoever puts in the work gets to decide, and everyone else should leave them alone.

be nice to the people who really cannot afford as they say so (or just don’t think about it), be nice to the translators feeding you content, and the people who free ride and shit on translators - honestly, i’d say ready the pitchforks.

edit: i forgot to mention this is my hot take and i’ve tried to like present all the arguments i’ve seen so far. i’m definitely not doing all of it justice and i don’t claim to speak on behalf of any of them except maybe one or two- and i’ve definitely left out stuff, but anyway, lmao we’re just tiny people doing what we love. i wish we could solve you know inequality or poverty or hunger or other pressing concerns. if i was that great i wouldn’t be stuck on tumblr or twitter or have to make posts like these like a loser.

thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#danmei #danmei twitter #rambles #long post #literally cannot take the stupidity of some people anymore

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heejinnien · 3 years

Text

j.jungkook | monsters

word count: 4.5k

pairing: jungkook x reader

synopsis: in the darkness is when the monsters rise.

genre: horror, angst, demon au

warnings: implied minor character death, implied toxic relationship, brief description of gore, death threat, brief violence

author’s note: please do not read this fic if any of the topics listed in the warnings is upsetting or triggering for you. this fic is based on the tale of the hungarian demon, the lidérc. they feed off of nightmares and fear. my beta readers (thank you so much to @voiceswithoutlips-kas, @elcie-chxn, and ryan for beta reading this fic for me) have told me that this fic might be confusing to read at first, so please read it in its entirety. i promise that every detail serves a purpose. that being said, the entire fic will be placed under the read more cut, as triggering content is mentioned right from the start. the banner was made by @voiceswithoutlips-kas, thank you so much.

cross posted to ao3 here

Now

He's dead, the doctors tell you.

The surgeon in charge of the procedure that was supposed to save your husband's life murmurs his condolences, explaining how your husband's body rejected the new organ. They tried their best, he explains, but once your husband's body had decided to reject it there was not much they could do.

It's almost ironic how he died, considering the numerous ways you thought he would go over the years due to the reckless activities he constantly engaged in. Each time he would leave the house you feared for his life, feared that one day he would no longer return to you. Now, it seems, your worst fears have come true.

When the news finally sinks in you let out a sob, although whether it is one of relief or one of despair you can't quite decipher.

Despite the fact that he loved berating you, loved tearing you down until you were entirely reliant on him, you still loved him. Until death do us part, you had promised on the day of your wedding, and you still loved him as much as you did when you were both teenagers in high school. Going on a date with him sparked the same chaos of butterflies in your stomach as it did on your first date, and you were giddy over the smallest amounts of affection, willingly bending over backward trying to please the man who used to be your husband even at your own discomfort.

In the first days of your marriage, your friends and family would visit you. You had bought an apartment together in the city so that he would be close to his work. You had your reservations at first, but he slowly convinced you of the idea. Of course, he could convince you to walk across glass and you gladly would, for him.

And, at first, you were delighted when somebody would visit you. Your husband had insisted he would provide for your every need, so you didn’t work. You also didn’t leave the apartment, as your husband had also insisted it was too dangerous for you. You had initially become hurt at his words, but when he explained it was merely because you weren’t used to the city and that he would take you out whenever you needed to go out, you accepted his words without argument.

Then

“Y/N,” one of your friends had said abruptly during her visit. You were conversing casually over tea, yourself perched on the edge of your sofa and her on a loveseat opposite you. She leaned forward, worry creasing her face. “I think you should come back home.”

“I’m fine, Soodam,” you replied, startled at her words and setting your tea cup down loudly. “I love my husband, and I love the city.”

Soodam pursed her lips. “From what I’ve seen, your husband keeps you prisoner here.”

You stood indignantly, anger flaring inside you at her words. “He does not! He just wants what’s best for me.”

“How many times have you been into the city then, Y/N?” Soodam pushed, standing up after you. She stepped closer, and you shied away, suddenly nervous.

“I… That doesn’t matter.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and turning to put space between you and Soodam. No matter how much you desperately wanted her to stay away from you, she continued to follow you, grabbing your arm to prevent you from running away from her.

“Y/N, please listen to me,” she begged. “You haven’t been the same since you married him and you know it. The apartment is the only place your husband allows us to meet, and he keeps you like a dog on a leash.”

You yanked your arm out of her hold, anger bubbling inside you like a volcanic vat near explosion. How dare she talk ill of you and your husband like that, she didn’t know anything about you.

“Get out,” you spat harshly, wiping furiously at the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes.

Soodam’s eyes widened, and her voice softened. “Y/N, please. I miss you.” She stepped forward again. “Come home with me.”

“I — ” You trembled, suddenly unsure. Your previous anger dissipated within a second, and you stared at your longtime friend. Sensing your hesitation, Soodam continued, this time with a renewed vigor.

“Your parents miss you, Y/N, I miss you. Please, just come back with me and — ”

“That will be enough, Soodam.”

The aforementioned girl gasped, and you looked to see your husband standing in the doorway to the living room, face stoic but eyes burning with anger. He spared you a brief glance before moving into the room, making your friend suddenly cower back in fright.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Scared, Soodam stared at the floor, grabbing her purse from the coffee table and immediately walking in the direction of the door. Before she could get there, your husband grabbed her arm, much as she had done to you earlier, and whispered in her ear. She nodded, face ashen, staring at the ground and refusing to meet your pleading gaze. Moments later, she was gone.

Silence permeated the apartment. Then, “She won’t be returning.”

You knew better than to question your husband’s wishes so you nodded, throat dry. Your husband let out a harsh laugh at your obedience, before dropping his briefcase by the front door. Without so much as another word, he strode down the corridor leading to his office, the sound of a door slamming ringing through the same passageway moments later. The silence afterwards was even worse than your husband’s wrath, the emotions of the past few seconds catching up to you once again and settling upon you like an unwanted blanket.

That was the last time you saw your friend.

Now

You can't remember the first time you feel as though you are being watched. It might have to do with the first time you see him, as after your first encounter you never consciously feel safe again.

The days following your husband's death seem to pass by in a blur, and sometime during them he appears, slowly forcing himself into every aspect of your life until he is a constant fixture you can no longer ignore.

The first time you see him is during your husband’s funeral. The sky is a somber grey, as if it can sense your mood, and an icy wind nips at anything within its grasp. It is the beginning of winter, and the cold is sharp, chilling you to the bone despite the numerous layers you have on. The funeral is brief, more of a formality than anything. Strangers give you their condolences, and it only serves to remind you of how little you truly know about your husband.

It is when the casket is being lowered into the ground that you see him, standing among the group of mourners.

He is huddled in the center of the group, head bowed. Something about his presence draws you to him, and you don’t realize you’re staring until he looks up, making direct eye contact with you. You quickly look away, face burning with shame. Imagine how it must look, you mentally chide yourself, the wife of a dead man checking out another at his funeral.

You chuckle, the sound empty and devoid of any humor. Luckily for you, at that moment, the casket is finished being lowered. The priest in charge of the funeral’s addresses hands you a shovel, effectively drawing your attention away from the mystery man. As you send shovel after shovel full of dirt flying onto the casket, he is effectively pushed further and further away from your mind.

It is not until after the procession is over, guests beginning to head back to their cars that he approaches you. You have just thanked the priest for his words, turning to walk back to your car when you let out a gasp.

He is standing right in front of you, broad frame seeming imposing against your smaller one. He cocks his head to the side, holding out one hand for you to shake.

“Hello love,” the man’s voice is silky, and he grasps your hand firmly. Even though it is a simple handshake, the contact sends a shiver down your spine. The man stares at you, his expression unreadable, and you have the sinking feeling that he knows the effect he has on you. “I’m Jungkook.”

“Y/N,” you say similarly, albeit a bit hesitant. He feels familiar, the subtlety of his features causing your memory to tingle, an identification of who he is just outside of your grasp. You assume he is just another one of your husband’s associates, shoving away the niggling feeling to give Jungkook a polite smile, hoping he picks up that to you, the conversation is over.

He does, because he steps to the side, allowing you to pass. As you hurry to your car, the skin on the back of your neck prickles, the feeling of someone watching you causing your hair to stand on end. When you look back, however, Jungkook is gone.

From the funeral, the feeling of being watched follows you everywhere. Coincidentally, so does Jungkook.

You run into him at the store, the park, even the lobby of your apartment complex, since it turns out he is a resident who recently moved in. Each time, he gives you a charming but guarded smile, attempting to strike up a conversation with you. Each time, you give short, uninterested responses, something about Jungkook’s presence causing you unease.

A month after the funeral, you are woken up in the dead of night by a pounding on your apartment door. Heart racing, you jolt away to the sound, fumbling in the dark for your phone. Squinting to read the harsh digital light, you manage to make out that it is three am.

Swearing at the heathen who dares interrupt your sleep, you throw off the covers of your bed, swinging your legs onto the floor and using your phone light to navigate the dark hallway.

By the time you finally reach your front door, the pounding has stopped. Annoyed, you unbolt the lock and yank open the wood, ready to give whoever it is a piece of your mind.

The hallway is empty.

The mysterious incident sets you on guard, only serving to increase your paranoia. Several nights later, you hear it again, only this time you swear you hear something else, too.

A voice, calling your name.

“Y/N,” it says sweetly, almost crooning. Even though you are locked in your room and buried beneath the security of a multitude of blankets, the voice manages to reach your ears, sickeningly sweet. “Come out, sweetheart.”

You spend the night huddling in your bed in fear, praying for the noises to go away. You are surprised your neighbors haven’t filed a noise complaint about it by now since they’ve complained over lesser, you think, a thought that dryly amuses you.

Much to your chagrin, the noise continues for the next few nights. Each time you stay huddled in your bed, irrationally hoping that the blankets around you will protect you from whatever it is outside your door.

During the day, you don’t fare much better. You swear you are beginning to lose your mind. You find keys moved, doors left ajar. The fear you feel of being watched only increases.

The last straw that breaks the camel’s back comes when you finally seek out your landlord, demanding to see the security cameras.

“Y/N,” the landlord glances from out of the corner of his eyes at you worriedly as he slots the keys to the security room into the lock. He pushes open the door, gesturing for you to enter first. “I know things have been… stressful for you lately.”

He pauses, flipping on the light switch and illuminating a set of monitors. “Are you sure that someone has been…” He trails off, struggling to repeat what you had told him earlier. “Knocking on your door at three am?”

You glare at the man, and he gulps, effectively silencing himself and preceding to busy himself with the monitors. Hell hath no fury a woman scorned, and you are tired of the constant paranoia that has settled deep in your bones. An uncomfortable silence settles upon you, and you stare unnervingly at your landlord, too sleep deprived and furious to be aware of your rude actions.

“Ah, here it is,” the landlord flashes you a weak smile, pushing a monitor towards you. He clicks his mouse a few times, and footage displaying the hallway outside of your apartment begins to play.

You stare intently at the screen, watching the numbers signaling the time in the corner slowly tick away until finally they reach three am. You hold your breath, and see

Nothing.

Your mouth drops open in shock, and you whirl on your landlord. “Did you tamper with the footage?”

If possible, your landlord looks even more nervous, and he gulps. "I haven’t been in here in the past few days.”

“Try another night,” you demand, desperation welling inside you.

Obediently, he speeds up the tape until it is the following day. And, like in the previous footage, as the clock hits three, the hallway is deserted.

Silence permeates the room.

“Y/N,” the landlord lets out a sympathetic sound, and you don’t realize you have begun to cry until a tear splatters on your shirt. “I think it’s best if you just go back to your apartment.”

Embarrassed and frustrated, you nod, storming out of the room...

And right into Jungkook. Your chin collides with his chest, and you reel backwards, angrily swiping at your tears. The aforementioned individual stares at you, concern lacing his gaze.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter angrily. “Just let me pass.”

Jungkook wordlessly steps to the side, and you quickly hurry past him, now mortified more than anything.

What you didn’t know was that you had just made two, fatal mistakes.

If you had looked into his eyes, you would’ve seen the gleam of delight in his orbs.

If you had turned around, you would have seen the way he smiled.

The footage replaying in your mind, you finally seek out a therapist and book an appointment for the following day. You don’t fall asleep that night, body tense in terror and dread exponentially filling you as the clock ticks closer to three. The knocking, however, never comes, and sometime around the rise of the sun this realization sinks upon you.

You barely make it to your session that day, state in disarray. The many nights of sleeplessness and terror are catching up to you, and you drag your feet down the street, fatigue crashing down upon you.

Somehow, you manage to locate the therapist’s office and scribble down all of your personal information on the clipboard that the receptionist hands you as you enter. You sit in the waiting room, legs bouncing anxiously.

“Y/N?”

You look up as the door opposite you opens and a kind looking man stares down at you.

“Hi, that’s me,” you say, standing and striding over to him. He takes in your worn appearance, eyes kind and compassionate.

“I’m Dr. Kim, but please, call me Taehyung.”

He leads you to a small room just off the main corridor. Several closed doors line the passageway, and at your curious glance Taehyung explains that they are the offices of his coworkers.

His office is small but cozy, a desk on one side and a couch on the other. Bookshelves line the far wall, and a lamp next to the couch gives the room a soft glow. He gestures in the direction of the couch, pulling a chair from his desk over as you sit stiffly.

“Would you like to tell me why you’re here today, Y/N?” Taehyung asks, steepling his fingers on top of his lap and the papers lying there. Your gaze flickers down to the top paper, the sheet you know you had scribbled information on earlier, and he smiles. “I know you already answered that in the pre-screening questions, but I just wanted to ask you instead. It’s always different when someone says it I find.”

Taehyung flashes you a reassuring smile, and you take a deep. With the landlord’s footage playing in your head, you finally manage to open your mouth and say, “I haven’t been able to sleep well lately.” Taehyung nods, as if this is a normal thing, and you push on. “I keep waking up in the middle of the night to this pounding on my door.”

“A pounding?” Taehyung frowns, and the expression sends dread plummeting to your gut.

“I went to the landlord about it,” you say quickly. “But when he showed me the security footage, there was no one there. I swear I’m not crazy, though. It’s almost as if…”

You trail off, forcing your jaw shut before you suggest something crazy.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Taehyung says soothingly. “You’re in a safe place.”

You nod, closing your eyes and attempting to calm your breathing. When you open them, Taehyung is staring at you worriedly.

“Almost as if what, Y/N?” Taehyung gives you another encouraging look. “It’s okay.”

“Almost as if…” You take a deep breath. “As if I’m being haunted by a monster.”

“Monsters?” Much to his credit, Taehyung doesn’t sound mocking at your confession. You nod, throat dry, and he leans forward. “Monsters aren’t real, Y/N.”

“I know that,” you say, your words ending up in an almost whisper. “I just…”

“You wrote that your husband passed away recently, did he not?” Taehyung asks, and you are grateful for the subject change, even if it is to another depressing topic. You nod, and Taehyung continues. “Grief is powerful, and manifests itself differently in everyone. I think that this is just your grief trying to find an outlet.”

“I don’t — ” You protest, but Taehyung quickly holds up a hand to silence you.

“I know it might not seem that way, but trust me, there are no monsters, Y/N.”

You nod slowly, and Taehyung smiles. This time, it’s sharp and sends a shiver down your spine. A dark look passes over Taehyung’s expressions briefly, so briefly you wonder if you imagined it, and then he smiles once again, this one the same, gentle one as before.

“I’ll write you a prescription that should help you sleep.”

“But, Taehyung, that’s not the problem — ”

Taehyung hums, already turning away, and your protests fall on deaf ears.

You end up leaving the session several hundreds of dollars lighter, one prescription heavier, and the worries pressing down upon you still prominent within you.

That evening, when you return to your apartment complex you see Jungkook in your apartment lobby. You had stopped for groceries on the way home, and you are carrying two large paper bags, each one nestled in the crook of your arm.

Jungkook is standing by the elevators. He turns at the sound of you, lip quirked at the sight of you struggling to carry two bags.

“Do you want some help with that?” He asks lightly, brow creasing in concern.

“No, I’m fine,” you reply, your usual answer whenever he asks if he can help. This time, he purses his lips, and you feel a pang of guilt. You think about your therapist’s words, that the sinking sensation you have around him is probably just guilt, and shove down the feeling before saying, “Actually, if you could, that would be great.”

Jungkook beams, taking one of the bags from its precarious grip against you. Moments later, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open. He motions for you to step inside first before following you, pressing the number for your floor. You open your mouth to ask how he knows your floor, but you quickly close it, the therapist’s words ringing in your head. Coincidence, you think.

The ride is silent, the only sound the occasional shuffling as you adjust your grasp on the bag. You find the silence uncomfortable no matter how much you try to convince yourself of your delusion, the sound of the elevator signaling your floor causing you to exhale in relief.

You are the first one off, leading Jungkook to your apartment door. You fumble with your key, shoving it unceremoniously inside the lock and pushing open the door with your hip. You flip on the lights, already heading in the direction of the kitchen before the lights have even fully powered on.

“You can set the groceries down here,” you nod your head in the direction of the counter, setting the groceries down there yourself. Jungkook does the same.

After setting the groceries down, you expect Jungkook to leave but instead he stands, observing you. Unease twists once more in your stomach, and the fact that you two are alone, together, in your home sinks down upon you.

“Thank you for your help,” you say in what you hope is a clear dismissal. Jungkook doesn’t move, continuing to stare at you unflinchingly. You subconsciously step back.

Jungkook steps forward.

“What are you — ”

“Do you not remember me?” Jungkook tilts his head to the side, question innocent but voice laced with venom. You swallow, your throat dry, and take another step backwards.

“Uh, no? I’m sorry, you were one of my husband’s associates, right?”

Jungkook scoffs, and in that moment his stance reminds you of a predator. He prowls forward, matching each step you take backward.

“You know who I am, Y/N L/N,” he sneers.

“I don’t — ”

“Yes, you do!” Jungkook spits angrily, slamming his hand into the counter, the loud sound causing you to jump. He cocks his head to the side, eyes twinkling in a mischievous way that has fear coating the inside of your stomach.

“Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it, Y/N?”

To anyone else, the statement may seem harmless, a well known idiom used to caution the overcurious mind. To you, they tear at your memories. You gasp as one particular memory flies to the forefront of your mind.

Then

You gently pushed open the already ajar door of your husband’s office, looking around the room for your husband. You had just finished making dinner and were ready for him to come to the dining room so you two could eat, but he was nowhere to be seen. On his desk, you spotted the tray you had left him for lunch.

You hesitated on the room’s threshold, your husband’s warnings to never step foot in his office ringing in your ears. After a brief mental war with yourself, you finally slipped inside, quickly and silently heading in the direction of his desk.

You picked up the tray, and before you could look away papers resting beneath the tray caught your attention.

“Oh my god — ”

You let out a gasp, the tray slipping from your grasp and crashing to the floor, the sound deafening in the still silence. Face up on your husband’s desk, beneath the tray, was a photograph of a young man. His face and body had been badly mutilated, and the sight made you sick.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the photo, instead meeting your husband’s steely gaze. The body was pushed to the back of your mind, your heart beginning to race for an entirely different reason.

“I saw the door ajar and just wanted to get your lunch tray,” you stammered, cowering beneath his gaze.

He’s silent, staring at you unnervingly before, “Get out.”

You were all too eager to obey, quickly scrambling in the direction of the door. The entire way you felt your husband’s burning gaze, and you had just passed him when his hand shot out, gripping your arm painfully tight. He leaned down, his lips hovering above your ear and sending shivers down your spine.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Y/N,” he says, words causing your heart to feel as though it has stopped and your stomach to drop out from beneath you. “Be careful of where you look, or else you’ll end up like him.”

You ate dinner alone that night.

Now

“Oh my god.”

You barely register as your legs give out beneath you, weak beneath Jungkook’s menacing gaze as the missing piece to Jungkook’s identification that had been nagging at you ever since you had first seen him finally clicks into place.

Before you had suppressed it, you had wondered why your husband had that picture on his desk. Now, everything clicks.

Your husband had been responsible for Jungkook’s death.

You had never been a violent person, and the sheer gore that you had seen from the photographs had caused you to repress that memory. Now, it is vivid and fresh in your mind, and you shake your head furiously as if that will cause the memory to dissipate.

“It’s not my fault,” you insist, staring into Jungkook’s burning gaze pleadingly. “I’m sorry for my husband’s actions, but — ”

“Shut up,” Jungkook hisses, and suddenly he is in front of you, hand against your windpipe. Your breath hitches in fear, and you swear you see a gleam of satisfaction deep within his dark orbs. “You could’ve done something to stop him.”

“I didn’t know what he was up to, I promise,” you sob, vision blurring with tears. Jungkook coos at the sight, gently stroking the bottom of your chin with his thumb. His touch feels as though it burns against your skin, and you flinch.

“Shh, baby.” Jungkook leans forward until his mouth is against your ear. The moment feels strangely intimate, and his breath sends shivers down your spine, just serving to heighten your fear. Every muscle within your body is tense.

“Your therapist was wrong about me, you know,” Jungkook chuckles, the sound sending warning bells signaling throughout your head. “Monsters do exist.”

His hand suddenly tightens, and you choke as your air supply begins to dwindle. The world around you begins to spin, and as everything fades into darkness you hear Jungkook’s voice one more time.

“I can’t wait to break you.”

You gasp awake, heart pounding. You sit up in bed, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself. As you piece together the details from your nightmare, your hands quickly fly to your throat, gently pressing against it where Jungkook’s hands were. You wince, and you quickly shove your covers aside, flipping on your bedside lamp and stumbling into your bathroom.

When you flip on the switch, you are greeted by a ring of purple and grey bruises around your throat. Your eyes widen in horror as the realization that it wasn’t a nightmare crashes down upon you.

And that’s when you hear it.

The pounding on the door.

#monsters #bangtanarmynet #btscreatorscorner #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #jungguk #bts jungguk #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #horror #angst #bts horror #bts angst #bts demon au #bts au

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qianinterprises · 3 years

Text

Lies {Ten x Reader}

Author's Note: I wrote this in a few days and it has not been beta read so I'm more than a little sure it will have grammatical and spelling errors. I still hope you enjoy though!

Synopsis: You are hiding a big secret. A secret that, to keep hidden, you continuously lie to your boyfriend about.

Pairing: Ten x Reader

Word Count: 3600 words

Brisk, polluted air washed over the city, bringing the soft, fresh scent of morning to the land. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but the city was awake, shop owners unlocking their doors, cars stuck at traffic lights, half dressed and hung over men and women doing the walk of shame. It was the same every morning. Except, this morning, there was a slight difference.

You tugged your boyfriend's jacket tighter as a soft breeze breathed across your body. You weren’t usually awake at this hour, preferring to sleep well into the morning, but today, there was too much to think about. Too much on your mind. You’d slept as long as you could, but, for once, your boyfriend's embrace was unable to lull your racing thoughts.

Life could be complicated. Just when you were starting to enjoy it, it threw you a curveball. Typically, those curveballs somehow made everything fall into place, somehow kickstarted your life in some new, better direction. This time, life had done more than throw you a curveball. It kicked you in the crotch and spit in your cereal.

Your fingers wrapped around the cool rail of the balcony and sighed. Worries and fears rushed through your mind. How were you going to tell Ten? How were you going to tell your family and his? How did you even feel about all of this?

A hand dropped down to your stomach, still aching and cramping from the early morning sickness. Your eyes shut. This was the last thing you needed. Yet here you were.

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

“Are you sure? You could just be late this time,” your best friend had asked.

You weren’t. All you were certain of was it had been two weeks since you were supposed to get your period and it still hadn’t shown up. Now, you didn’t like bleeding from your lady bits, but it was always a sure sign that your uterus was perfectly unhappy without a fertilized egg nestled inside its warm walls. Without a bloody hissy fit producing a murder scene in your pants and with some sort of stomach virus churning up your guts, you were beginning to get worried.

“Have you been to the doctor?” she asked.

“Yeah right, they’d call here and Ten would somehow end up answering and find out the truth from some middle-aged balding guy instead of me!”

She raised her hands in surrender.

“Then… a drugstore test?” she asked.

“How? I’d end up using my credit card and when he pays the bill, he’d see a weird charge and ask me about it, then I’d have to tell him after he’d backed me into a corner!”

She sighed, clearly getting annoyed.

“Do you want me to get it for you?”

You paused a moment to think, a smile blossoming across your face.

“That’d be great!”

She let out a groan and slid up off the couch, grabbing her purse.

“If you are, I get to name it,” she declared before marching out of your apartment.

As her car started and back out of the driveway, you grabbed your favorite blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around you, burrowing yourself deeper into the fuzzy softness as your stomach twisted in knots. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath, praying for a good answer, but the issue was, you had no idea what answer you truly wanted.

On one hand, you loved Ten with all your heart and would jump at the chance of having a family with him. On the other, he was an idol. He was an idol in NCT no less that was constantly traveling back and forth between South Korea and China for promotions. He was busy. His career was just getting good. Something like this could, not only change your life, but alter his forever.

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

It hadn’t taken long for your best friend to get back from the pharmacy. It was only right down the road after all. Still, as soon as she stepped in the door, holding up a bag filled with packages of sticks that could show your future and alter your life, you tightened the blanket around you. Did you even want to know?

She sat down on the edge of the couch seeming to read your mind as she brought a hand up to softly stroke over your shoulder. Her gaze softened. You knew she understood. It wasn’t long ago that she’d also had a pregnancy scare which had resulted in simply being food poisoning.

You doubted that was the case this time.

“It’ll be better once you know. Then, there’s no longer the lingering curiosity and fear,” she encouraged softly.

She was right. You knew that, but nothing could stop the anxiety from pooling in your stomach as you cast your eyes at the shopping bag.

“How many did you get?” you asked.

“Five. Just to be certain,” she said softly.

With a nod and a deep breath, you reached for the bag still resting in her hand. You carried it to the bathroom, locking the door. You knew she wouldn’t barge in on you, but as shuddered breaths fell from your lips, you knew you needed to do this next part completely alone.

You unpackaged each of the tests and lined them up in an easily accessible row.

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

Eight minutes later, you sat on the bathroom floor, back pressed against the door as your eyes sharply watched the timer on your phone count down. Your chest clenched at the last few seconds before it dinged in your hand, signaling time was up. The tests were ready and, once you looked at the results, you would finally have answers, answers you possibly didn’t want.

“Deep breaths, (y/n),” you whispered to yourself.

You shut your timer off and eased yourself off the floor, hands trembling as you reached for the closest plastic stick. What were you even hoping for?

Your fingers closed around the plastic and your eyes closed, breath becoming shallow. Just a few more seconds. Few more seconds of ignorant bliss before you would be forced to learn the truth.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and opened your eyes, two pink lines on the stick greeting you.

The test fell from your hands as your body crumpled to the ground, tears spilling from your eyes and cascading down your face.

“(y/n)?” your best friend asked.

You didn’t respond. Your body shuddered as silent sobs racked through your body. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy or that you’d never dreamed of having a family, you just never expected it to happen like this, especially when you could not only ruin your life, but the life of a child and your boyfriends.

It was a few extra minutes before you were finally able to pull yourself off the floor and unlock the door. Your best friend gaped at your teary eyes, face etched with worry, but she opened her arms and you dropped into them, wrapping your arms around her tightly and clinging to her.

“It… It was… p-positive,” you stammered.

She squeezed you tightly, hands rubbing up and down your back.

“I’m pregnant…”

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

By sheer luck, Ten hadn’t come home that night, choosing to stay at the WayV dorm with Hendery and Xiaojun who, according to Ten, were distraught and upset that they didn’t get to see Ten every day anymore.

His absence had allowed you time to dispose of the tests, all of which read positive, burying them in the trash and making a mental note to take the trash out the next day. You’d also had time to calm yourself down enough to make a decision.

Getting rid of the baby wasn’t an option. You loved children. You’d always loved the prospects of having a child. Even if Ten wanted nothing to do with you or the child, you were not going to simply get rid of it. If he left and you decided you couldn’t do it on your own, you would check yourself into a facility that would help you and give the baby up for adoption. If you thought you could handle it, you would raise your own child. Because no matter what Ten said, you still had your own choices to make.

That night, you had settled down with a sappy romance movie and a bowl of ice cream, curled up in one of Ten’s shirts in bed, preparing to tell him the next day.

However, that day would never come.

As the next day rolled around, you had put off telling him and, as the days ticked by, you kept making excuses not to. Pretty soon, you’d hit the three month mark with a healthy baby and your flat stomach was starting to expand. You’d always worn baggier shirts so, covering up wasn’t a big deal, but the constant sickness and cravings were getting harder to hide.

Arms wrapped around your waist, causing you to jump, thoughts evaporating into the chilly air.

“What are you doing up so early?” he whispered sleepily against your ear, a chill running down your spine.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you calmly responded.

He hummed against your ear and squeezed you a little closer. You winced as his arms tightened around your stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head.

“I’m still getting over this virus, I guess,” you lied.

Ten was an attentive man, so when he noticed how often you were getting sick, in the mornings specifically, he had immediately asked you about it. Being on the spot and not quite ready to tell him the truth, you’d lied that you’d been hanging around a friend with the stomach virus and they must have given it to you. He had bought it, insisting that you go to the doctor if it got worse, but you had declined. Now, weeks after you’d first lied, as your sickness continued, Ten was becoming more freaked out, begging you to go to the hospital, convinced that you were dying.

Not wanting to admit that you’d been lying, and slightly concerned that, even three months into your pregnancy, you were still getting sick, you had waited until Ten was doing promotions before going to your doctor.

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

“It’s nice to see you again, Ms. (y/l/n), how have you been feeling?” your doctor, Dr. Byun asked, taking a seat on the plush stool by the laptop.

“I’ve been alright. Just concerned. I know I’m around three months, but I would have thought the morning sickness would have ceased by now…”

He let out a hum and pulled your chart up on your laptop.

“Your last check-up was two weeks ago. Did they do an ultrasound? I’m not seeing it in here.”

You shook your head.

“Alright, so that’s the first step. I will tell you that morning sickness at three months usually goes away, but it is completely common and natural for some women to experience sickness well after that,” he responded.

You let out a sigh. Ten would never buy it if you told him your throwing up was completely normal. But you nodded and he stepped from the room to get a nurse to set up an ultrasound.

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

After the ultrasound, Dr. Byun came back, holding his notes.

“It looks like everything is normal. It’s possible that the baby is simply rejecting some of the nutrients given. I know oftentimes during pregnancy, the baby craves sweets, junk-food, or other things, but I would recommend trying to eat as many fruits and vegetables as possible. This will help give the baby nutrients and hopefully quell the sickness. However, I am going to send your blood-work to the labs and see if there is anything else going on.”

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

That had been a week ago and still, even with extra vegetables and well-balanced meals, the sickness persisted, and with it, grew Ten’s worry.

“Maybe I should take you to the hospital if it keeps getting worse,” he suggested, mumbling against your ear.

You shook your head.

“I trust Dr. Byun. He says it can be normal when the ba- I mean, when the immune system needs a little extra nutrients,” you answered.

He didn’t respond for a long moment, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Did Dr. Byun ever call you back with your bloodwork results?” he asked.

You shook your head. It was the truth. Sort of.

You really did feel bad for lying to him. It never was your intention, but the longer you kept your secret, the harder it got to tell him. Part of you wished you’d just come clean the day he’d gotten home so, you’d at least know how he felt and whether or not you’d be doing it alone. The other part of you was terrified the moment you told him that you’d be giving him up.

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, lips touching your skin in a soft kiss that made you shudder in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered against your skin.

Your heart melted. If he truly loved you, would he stay? Would he understand why you lied? Would he accept you and the baby as his?

Suddenly, you felt brave enough to come clean. No matter what, you were confident that love would prevail.

“Ten I-”

You were cut off as his phone began to ring.

He sighed, letting his head drop onto your shoulder before reaching into his pajamas pants to retrieve his phone.

“Hello?”

You couldn’t hear who was on the other end, but it was definitely Kun or their manager.

“Now?” he asked.

His nose crinkled in annoyance.

“But (y/n)’s still sick!”

A huff fell from his lips.

“Fine,” he growled into the receiver, hanging up the phone and shoving it back into his pocket, eyes fixing hard on the railing.

“I have to go. Some stupid radio show decided last minute they want us there and we can’t get out of it now,” he grumbled.

You turned around, your courage disappearing as you placed a soft hand on his cheek.

“It’s alright baby. Go, I’ll be here when you get back,” you spoke softly.

He leaned his cheek against your hand, leaning his face closer to press a gentle kiss to your wrist. Butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“I’ll be home after lunch,” he promised.

With that, he hurried back inside.

You watched him disappear into your shared bedroom before facing the city again. The sun was now almost all the way over the horizon.

Would Ten still kiss you like that if he knew?

Your heart clinched heavily in your chest.

Would you be able to live without him if he left?

Ten’s POV

Something wasn’t right. Ten knew that. What he didn’t know was what. (Y/n) had been sick for several weeks and, despite her reassurance that everything was “normal” and “fine,” he couldn’t shake the notion that you were lying about something.

As his car pulled up to the WayV dorm where their manager would be picking them up, he glanced down at his phone. He had been expecting to see you in his background, smiling blissfully, looking as radiant and beautiful as ever by the lake they’d visited over the summer, right before you’d gotten sick. What he saw instead was himself, grinning and holding a small cupcake with purple icing, a single lit candle waiting to be blown out. The picture you’d taken on his birthday.

Confused, he turned the phone over in his hand and shook his head in minor annoyance at the cute little stickers of Ten and the other members of WayV stuck on the clear phone case. Your phone case.

He must have accidentally taken your phone rather than his own in his rush to get dressed and get to the dorm.

A small laugh bubbled to his throat. He knew getting matching phones and phone cases would end up being a bad idea, but you had insisted.

The phone vibrated in his hand and he laughed as his own name popped onto the screen.

From Ten<3: Babe, you took my phone instead :D

Ten shook his head.

To Ten<3: guess you’ll have to forward me updates from everyone today!

From Ten<3: Or I could keep them all to myself and “forget” to tell you

He sent back a laughing emoji and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He stepped out of his car as the large van meant to take them to the radio show pulled up. He waved to the manager driving and laughed to himself as YangYang led the way sprinting from the building, Lucas and Hendery hot on his heels.

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

It was in the middle of the show that Ten felt the phone buzzing in his pocket. As Lucas energetically retold the story of how he’d managed to pull off a prank on Kun and WinWin, Ten discreetly pulled the phone from his pocket. Dr. Byun flashed across the screen and Ten’s heart quickened. On one hand, he wanted to respect your privacy and not answer the call. On the other, he desperately wanted some answers.

“We’re going to take a quick break! We’ll be right back!” the host said over the speaker.

That was all the answer Ten needed to hear.

He clicked the green answer button and pressed his phone to his ear, quickly making his way out of the room before anyone could question him.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Byun, is Ms. (y/l/n) nearby?” he asked.

“She isn’t but I’m her boyfriend. I can take a message.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ten knew he shouldn’t have said them, but part of him couldn’t help being curious, his gut too filled with worry to think rationally.

“I’m calling to let her know we got her results back. Her sickness is being caused by an anemia that sometimes has the effect on women carrying children. The fetus isn’t getting enough protein nutrients. We’d recommend she eat more red meat and add anemia vitamins to her prenatal vitamins. If the sickness doesn’t stop in two weeks, she should come back in for another visit,” he said.

The phone dropped from Ten’s hand, hitting the floor hard. His eyes were wide, hands shaking. His left knee gave out first, buckling beneath his weight. He clutched the wall for support.

“Ten!”

Kun’s voice barely reached his ears as his heart pounded.

The leaders arms wrapped around Ten’s middle, leading him to lean against him as Kun held him up.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok? Are you feeling faint?”

Ten didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall.

Pregnant. That’s why you kept throwing up…

Your POV

The moment you’d noticed you were left with Ten’s phone, anxiety pooled in your stomach. You had no idea when Dr. Byun was going to call or whether Ten would answer. Dr. Byun telling Ten the truth was not exactly the best way for him to find out. Especially since you’d been lying to him.

The minute the door to your shared apartment flew open, slamming hard against the wall, your hands began to shake.

“Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me?!” he snapped as soon as he rounded the corner.

His face was red with anger, a sight you weren’t used to seeing. Ten didn’t get angry a lot. And when he did, he often had good outlets, like dance, to vent his anger.

He yanked your phone out of his pocket and threw it on the couch, making you flinch.

“You lied to me! For months! Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” he seethed.

Yours eyes glazed as they met his, tears gathering, but you blinked, refusing to let them fall when his anger was your fault to begin with.

“I-I… I was afraid… I didn’t want to lose you…”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you wanted to take them back. His face fell. His arms tumbled precariously to his side. Tears gathered in his own eyes, escaping and cascading slowly down his face.

Ten didn’t cry often. His pride prevented it. Watching his shoulders begin to tremble and shake had guilt gripping at your heart tightly.

“Did I not prove my love to you enough?” he asked, voice stammering.

You stared at him for a moment before sliding yourself off the couch and wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders.

“I know you love me baby. But… your career… I was afraid you’d leave me… leave us… because I was holding you back from this…”

It was a long moment before he responded.

His hands cupped your face gently, brushing away the tears you hadn’t realized were beginning to fall.

“My career is important. I love being in WayV, but you always come first. And now, you and the baby come first,” he spoke softly.

He trailed his hand down to softly rest it on your stomach. A water smile spread across your face.

“You’re going to have to do a lot of the parenting alone. So I’ll understand if you want to leave me to find the baby a father that will be there to help you. Otherwise, I’m with you all the way.”

You brought your gaze to his, searching his eyes for jokes or laughter. Finding none, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close to you.

“Our baby could have no better father than you,” you whispered softly.

He pressed his lips delicately to yours, drawing you in closer and holding you against him.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Both of you.”

#ten fanfic #reader insert #ten x reader #nct x reader #short fic #I hope this isn't too trash

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stygianflood · 3 years

Text

Like the Shoreline and the Sea (Ethan x F!MC)

Summary- Ethan is asked out on a date right after Miami in Book 1. Ethan’s PoV

Genre, rating, words- Angst, teen, 2k

Open Heart fanfic tropes- birthday, office.

March Challenge Day 13 prompt Someday; April Challenge Day 9 prompt Smell of the Rain

A/N: nor’westers- violent thunderstorms in northern plains of India, before the onslaught of monsoon.

Title inspired by Leonard Cohen’s Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye.

‘This will improve our understanding of adiposity and sarcopenia in this population, help identify thresholds predictive of metabolic risk, and ultimately prevent or ameliorate… ’

Better prevent than ameliorate.

‘...ameliorate the long-term impacts on health and…’

Twenty five years should be long enough.

Hers is a singsong voice, the warm, trilling kind. Mellow sun dances on the frills of her dress. The yellow one.

The man at her side twirls her on the empty kerb. Dips and kisses her. Her laughter is all that is pure and golden.

A child follows them, embarrassed. She bends down to kiss him, and he is furious.

The scene shifts.

The child is on the front porch, eyes set somewhere beyond the wild bergamot bushes.

Tear tracks on pink cheeks mingle and dry with dust from his afternoon’s exploits. Something like a steely resolve troops in his eyes.

Ethan Ramsey has been staring at the same sentence for fifteen minutes now.

Whoever coined the term ‘nostalgia’ from the Homeric nostos and algos was speaking of anguish caused by an inability to return. But they failed to discern the inevitable tethering of reminiscence with habituality.

That is more or less the case with him. Louise Ramsey walked out on her husband, and eleven year old son some twenty five years ago right before his birthday. For a very long time now, home is not about apple crisps or kitchen gardens.

About this time every year, a crevice in his mind he likes to call the amygdala dwells on the same days.

Almost as a ritual.

He is a scientist. A rationalist. And like every year, he reminds himself there is work to do.

Unless there’s a knock at the most unpleasant hour.

He never returns to the article. Never manages a come in. The distraction walks in, messy hair knotted with a pencil. Probably because she has lost another hair tie.

He mustn’t be that aware.

But she talks too much.

‘Dr. Mukherjee.’ He sounds gruff. They’re supposed to be redrawing their boundaries, even if he is the only one making an effort. ‘I thought your shift ended-’

‘Two hours ago.’ Rigours of a sixteen hour shift mark her visage. Her smile is a little too conniving for his comfort. ‘I had work afterwards.’

She starts shuffling papers on his desk, permission be damned. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and manages an exasperated sigh. Since when have interns started walking into his office with… birthday cakes?

‘What do you think you’re- It’s not my-’

‘I heard rumours that Dr. Ramsey had to cancel a date.’ She sounds amused. He does not miss the split second glance she shoots his way before continuing. ‘On his birthday, too. Such a shame.’

He scoffs.

‘No one knows it’s my birthday.’

‘Oh, they do. They’re just too afraid to… ah, invoke the wrath of Dr. Ramsey.’

Of course, she is not one of them. She has absolutely no regard for the immutable drill he has observed for nearly four decades. And why must she, when her sole intent is to swivel the rusty axis of his life.

Ethan has never known the first shower of an Indian monsoon. It is sudden and torrential, just as it is feared and revered. It smells like summer, and mango blossoms.

Ethan has never known one until this year.

‘I’m thirty seven, Rookie,’ He manages weakly.

‘And I would’ve bought the candles accordingly if I knew that.’

The tealights she arranges look so much better, he thinks. The cake is a simple blue and white affair. Not the ones that have more icing than cake, he notes. Not the ones he disapproves of.

Happy Birthday, Dr. Terminator

‘I could’ve whipped something up without sugar,’ She rambles, suddenly starting to blush. ‘Or ordered one. But I only just came to know it’s your birthday. And there wasn’t a lot of-

‘Thank you, Apu.’ Tresses of warmth curl about his chest and the gravel of his voice.

Ethan has avoided birthday cakes for a decade now. Unless it’s Naveen’s birthday, he thinks with a pang.

In his time with Harper or his brief involvements in med-school, no one has ever convinced him to do birthdays. He checks himself. This is just an intern being kind.

But interns aren't kind to Dr. Ramsey, are they.

She assures him the photos are not for social media. They settle on the couch, it’s his first birthday cake in over a decade.

He is glad for an innocuous reason to look at her, laugh at jokes that in any other company would draw his scorn. She is oddly comforting. Unlike most interns who avoid his office at all costs, she moves about it as if she was meant to be here all along.

He must have stalled birthdays worth twenty years only to spend it on a couch with her.

The plates are disposable. It is nothing like the restaurants that come with his status, for there is an endearing simplicity about it.

It almost feels like… home.

He steals occasional glances at her. It has been four agonisingly long days after their return from Miami. And for all his attempts to redraw their boundaries, it has been a non-return of sorts.

Aparna drives him to distraction, flouts each and every one of his rules. Seeks him out in supply closets and muddled dreams. And every time he breaks her heart a little more, he finds himself floundering in his own squalor.

The German counterpart to the English ‘nostalgia’ is ‘sehnsucht’. Like ‘nostalgia’, it has the charm of what has been. But unlike it, it also has the enigma of what has never been. Miami will remain the swansong to an ideal that slipped through Ethan’s fingers.

A surge of anguish ripples through him as he realises all of this is his for the asking, and he will have none of it.

‘It wasn’t a date,’ He blurts out.

He wouldn’t tell her that if he wants her to move on. Not truly.

‘You don’t have to-’

‘She is Declan’s associate in Panacea. She suggested signing the contract with the Diagnostics Team over dinner tonight. So… just business.’

Claudette Wilson is the most promising young face of Panacea, and Ethan needed less than a minute to know why.

Sleek, dark hair styled at her nape played up her high cheekbones. The ruby of her pliant lips, almost risqué for a meeting such as this, always lingered a little longer on the rim of her coffee mug. Even the measured spoons of her laughter came with an all too enticing lilt.

Ethan has met the other type. Vacuous and synthetic. But the steely glint in her eyes came with a weighty intelligence. An unfaltering wit. And when a perfectly manicured hand brushed the contours of his cuff, he knew it was never meant to be just business.

She was irresistible. And so was he.

That afternoon, the bitterness in his mouth had nothing to do with coffee. He learnt he would refuse Claudette even if her pay checks did not come from Panacea.

Aparna falls silent, almost as if discerning in his words everything he left unsaid.

They have run out of jokes and topics for a harmless chat. He is getting terribly comfortable with her again, he realises alarmed. And she is fidgeting with the ring on her finger.

She’s nervous too. He knows. He could define every twitch and turn of those fingers.

Somewhere in their conversation they have edged so close that her knee juts into his thigh. The couch is surprisingly small for two people. Minutes pass, and despite himself, he does not want her to leave.

His fingers rest on her flustered hands, it’s a deep-rooted reflex. Looking down, she weaves his hand in both of her own. Even as the adrenaline surging in his blood incites him to flee, the delirious part of him emerges stronger and more naive.

He thinks she is leaning in. Soaking up the mayhem in his eyes. The slight movement causes wisps of errant hair to slip from the messy bun. There’s new growth around her brows, a faded scar on her forehead. But it’s her eyes that still hold sway over him.

They stroked him with a strange, silent awe on a balcony on the shores of the Atlantic.

She is nothing like interns that hover around him year after year. Sucking up for recommendations. Sometimes more. She can devour him, and just as easily cast him aside without batting an eye.

And yet she is here. Snuggled in his office while her friends call it a night with cheap beer and rowdy escapades.

But she is different tonight. The quiver in her eyes tentative, even wary.

His hand rises of its own accord, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. Inadvertently, it brushes her face, lingers a little longer against her cheek.

She caressed his face as the ocean crashed around him. It was like falling from the top of a precipice. Tumbling into the amorphous, a terrifying weightlessness. He waited.

‘It’s getting late.’

She smells like the hospital, muted shades of honeysuckle, and like herself.

The cool breeze hummed a steady rhyme against the tumble of her midnight blue dress. Bits of the moon bounced off the dark curtain of her hair, plunging into her eyes. Ethan had never seen such fathomless eyes.

‘I should go.’ She leans into his palm, eyes fluttering close.

‘You should.’

And then she caught him. It was the hollow of her neck. It was soft. Like the rest of her.

Neither of them move today, silently imploring the other to charge. Or retreat. The battle drum in his chest is a dull ache. Throbbing and inconsolable.

The ridges of her collarbone bore traces of his ruin. Traces she covered every morning and stripped every night, like the rites of a godless liturgy.

His free hand is still laced in hers, the other drawing her face nearer.

Her lips are inches from his own as he draws a languid finger across them. Her warm breath spills on his lips, warring and mingling with his own ragged ones.

Her mouth was stained with wine. Numbing and inciting. He was battered, and bruised. Marooned at her side. And she was warm. So warm.

His hand traced the pummelling of her heart, kneading the softness of her chest. Her tongue jousted with his own as the ocean lapped at its shore. Tireless and persevering.

She was wild. Like her Gangetic nor’westers on a sultry afternoon. He was bewitched. She was doing something good to him.

Suddenly the air around them is ripped by the sound of his phone.

It’s his father.

The two of them recoil to their own spaces, Ethan horrified that he let himself stray so far yet again. Silencing the still erring device, he faces Aparna bracing for another apology.

‘I know.’

Her smile is placid, all traces of vulnerability gone. He is vaguely aware of the gentle pressure on the hand still clasped in her own.

‘Happy Birthday, Ethan. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She is gone before he can marshal his thoughts.

Ethan flops back into the couch, shivering and alone. The incandescent glow from the solitary lamp drenches the office in a soft, ethereal haze. She might not have been here at all but for the little things she scatters around him every time she forays into his life.

Today she leaves with him a caesura. It thwarts the cadence of a life he has been putting together since Miami.

After a minute, or perhaps a staggering nightmare, when he rises to pack the rest of the cake, he sees it.

She must have forgotten her hair tie was in her pocket after all.

It stares up at him from the floor, the silken, mute witness of his transgression. He gingerly picks it up, and turns it in his hand as though it houses some ancient sorcery.

Laying it on his desk, he considers texting her. But scarcely does he scroll down to her name when he stops himself. And pockets it.

Somewhere in the Atlantic, waves still crash upon the rocks, moistening, but never quite lingering.

The waves are relentless. Someday, the rocks crumble into fine sand.

Thank you for reading this! Let me know if you’d want to be added or removed.

#open heart #ethan ramsey x mc #choices monthly challenge #fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #openheartfanfics #choicesaprilchallenge2021 #cac2021

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bellshells · 3 years

Text

Nobody Can Know Part 3

Part three of nobody can know, I’ve actually split part three into two (maybe three) different parts. It was burgeoning on upwards of 35k words and I figured it’s too much in one post, so I’ll be posting what is now part four soon. Thank you for bearing with me whilst I got my shit together, and as always, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Slytherin Reader Warnings: Smut (start as we mean to go on amirite), Langauge, Alcohol, Smoking, Threat(?), Angst Summary: It all goes tits up lads, that’s all I’m going to say. Word Count: 11k+ Part One Part Four @alpha-cera

“George,” You moaned, a new wave of sheer pleasure coursed through you and built deep in your stomach. The red head on top of you frowned, his brow furrowed; a thin sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. He continued his thrusts, each eliciting a smothered moan from your parted lips.

“Quiet, witch. You’re going to let the whole house know how well you’re being fucked.” George scolded, he placed a large hand over your mouth and quickened his pace. He filled every inch of you and yet you yearned for more. George flicked his hips against yours, gritting his teeth to suppress the moan that threatened to escape. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer, especially with the muggle vibrator fixed to your clit with the help of a sticking charm. You whined against George’s hand; you could taste the saltiness of his skin as you gazed up into the face of the person you loved most in the world. His eyes were half closed, and lips parted with a sigh that fell effortlessly from them, you overcome with love for him. George. He was yours and you were his.

You hadn’t considered how much your life would change in the short time since you had arrived at The Burrow, how life in general would be different. You certainly hadn’t imagined going from the sprawling grounds of your family’s estate to a tiny flat above a joke shop in Diagon Alley. You weren’t there though, not tonight. Not in your flat which you had lovingly filled with books and exotic plants with a window seat big enough for two. No, you were in a single bed surrounded by wallpaper that peeled sadly from the walls and a faint muskiness from the heavy, moth-eaten curtains. Voices carried from beneath the floorboards of Grimmauld Place as the iron bedframe began to skid across the dusty floor. You knew you had had maybe ten or fifteen minutes before the meeting was the begin; so in true George fashion he had suggested you slip away, far up the creaky staircase to the very top of the house, where a dark attic room waited. It had been a struggle at first, manoeuvring the small space as George had tugged hungrily at your clothes. The bed was small, almost humorously so. It reminded you of your bed at Hogwarts, and how you had been shocked and a little impressed when Fred had told you he had managed to sneak Angelina into his dorm and they had shared his tiny bed. A few misplaced arms and a foot set firmly on the floor had allowed George to gain a delicious purchase of your frame, and he wasted no time in running his throbbing head against your slick folds.

Your eyes widened as George’s hand slipped from your mouth and wrapped around your neck, he squeezed tightly, and your eyes rolled back in delight. You absolutely adored it when George was rough with you, you knew he was really enjoying himself if he was. Whilst you found yourself on fire with his gentle touches and caresses, you were utterly flung into the inferno when he grappled at your skin; when he spanked you and when he wrapped his hands around your throat. You tried to moan, you tried to let him know how he made you feel, to let him know you were about to come. All you could do was reach for him, your arms found his shoulders and you pressed your fingernails down into his flesh and tugged slightly, as if it were possible for him to get any closer. George understood and released his grip of your throat slightly, his sharp thrusts more erratic as he lowered his head to your ear. “Are you going to come, little witch?” George breathed and you shuddered, his breath was hot on your skin and you could hear how strained his voice was; like he was merely waiting for your confirmation before he would find his own release. You couldn’t speak, how could you when George’s hand again squeezed your throat, tighter than before. You choked on the moan that tried to escape, George groaned at the sight. You managed a nod as your orgasm took you, it convulsed through your body; more intense than you had ever felt. George followed almost instantly, his body falling forward onto yours as if he were melting. Your legs trembled as the waved subsided, the weight of him on top of you pushed the vibrator even harder against your overstimulated clit. It didn’t appear thar George had noticed until you began to squirm beneath him, a whimper escaped you as the little bullet shaped object pleasantly painful, trundled you towards another orgasm. If you weren’t about to come for the second time, you would have laughed at George’s shocked expression. He blinked at you, once, twice and then a third time before he seemed to understand what was happening. A look of sheer elation seemed to illuminate his face and he pushed himself back until he sat on his heels, you whined at the loss of contact but without missing a beat, George pressed his hand against the vibrator and pressed hard. You gasped and your second orgasm erupted through you like needles under your skin, it was deliciously uncomfortable as you bucked your hips against the delightful buzz. George laughed almost incredulously as you rode out the second wave until finally, he muttered the un-stick charm and the little vibrator fell away.

You were breathless and sweaty, the inside of your thighs coated with the evidence of your passion and George ran a hand through his unkempt hair. You couldn’t move, it was like your every appendage was made of lead and no matter how you tried, you couldn’t lift them. “Such a shame we’re not going home tonight, (Y/N). I’d love to hear the pretty noises you’d make when I make you come over and over again with this.” George said breezily, he lifted the vibrator and dropped it onto the bed before pointing his wand at it and casting a quick Scourgify. You watched him lazily as he dressed, he was thinner than he used to be. He pulled his belt to the last but one hole and buckled it. You assumed it was the stress of the shop that had caused him to lose the weight, neither Fred nor George had anticipated how popular the shop was going to be when they opened. The first day alone had seen the twins more than triple what they had paid into the business and since then, George had barely had a day off. You didn’t mind though, not really, you enjoyed seeing him in his element with his brother. He whizzed around the shop like a tornado, his mind constantly ticking over what they could do to make things bigger and better. He had found a new confidence in himself, on those days that Fred wasn’t there, and he didn’t have to share the role of ‘Boss’, George was in charge. George excelled in it, and it was a dynamic that he had brought home with him into the bedroom, which you thoroughly enjoyed.

George pulled his shirt over his head and tossed your knickers over to you. “Are you coming downstairs?” He asked, you chewed on your lip. Did you want to go downstairs to sit outside of a meeting you weren’t welcome at? It was Sirius that didn’t trust you, you knew that, and it wasn’t something you necessarily lost sleep over; but it still bothered you the same. George told you everything that was said in the meetings anyway, so its not as if you were kept in the dark- but that wasn’t the point. Sirius was suspicious of you, coming from the family you did. The Weasley’s had spoken in your defence, even Harry and Hermione who had shown no interest toward you beforehand had tried to get Sirius on side. But he wouldn’t budge, and rather than forcing his hand in his own house, you had elected not to join The Order. It seemed to suit everybody that way, Sirius didn’t have to speak with you, but you were kept in the loop. “Oi, are you even listening to me?” George waved his hand in front of your face. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment and you stood. “Sorry love, I was just thinking.” “About what?” He sat and watched you as you searched on the floor for your discarded items of clothing. You pushed your legs into your jeans and clasped your bra before pulling your shirt over your head. “I might go home George, if we’re supposed to be leaving early tomorrow morning to meet everyone off the train anyway, I’d be halfway there if I went tonight.” “Why do you want to go home? Are you okay?” He asked, concern flashed across his face as he rose to meet you. George took your face in his hands and brought his lips down to yours in a tender kiss. “I’m fine, honestly I am. I just don’t fancy waiting around for however long for you lot to finish your meeting and then sleep here as well- I just, want my own bed. I’m really tired, I had a hellish shift in the shop today and I’m due on my period any minute now and-” George placed a finger on your lips to silence you. He frowned slightly, his hands fell to your shoulders and have then a squeeze. “You don’t have to explain yourself, darling. I know you’ve been run ragged trying to get everything sorted in the shop for the holidays. Me and Fred can’t thank you enough for that, and I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He paused, he seemed to mull over his words before he took a breath. “Does this have anything to do with Sirius, (Y/N)? I promise you can tell me.”

You shook your head and smiled. You weren’t lying to George, at least not completely. You did truly want to sleep in your own bed, although the flat was cramped; you had made it home. “No love, I just want to go home. You stay here with Fred and everyone, I’ll meet you at the shop in the morning and we can have a late breakfast?” He seemed placated by that and offered a genuine smile. “Definitely, maybe we could go into London and do a bit of Christmas shopping?” “Sounds perfect, George.” “Are you going to apparate straight to the flat?” He asked as you made your way from the attic and down the rickety stairs. “I think I’ll pop into The Leaky Cauldron first, have a drink. I’ll see if I can convince Tom to let me take a bottle or two back to the flat for us.” “Are you leaving, dear?” Molly’s voice carried over the cacophony of sounds as you arrived outside the kitchen. George offered your coat to you and held it as you slipped your arms into the sleeves. You nodded and accepted the warm hug she offered you, and revelled84 in the motherly affection. “Yeah, I’m going home, see if I can get a decent night’s sleep for once without this one stealing all the covers.” You elbowed George in the ribs, and he rolled his eyes. George slung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close to his chest. Molly smiled at the pair of you, she took your hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “Are you still coming to the train station in the morning?” She asked. You nodded again and Molly beamed. “We were just talking about going to do a bit of Christmas shopping after we’ve been to Kings Cross, as Fred’s in the shop. Would you like to come with us, Molly?” “Oh no no, the way things are at the minute you two need to take full advantage of any and all moments you get together. Especially in that tiny flat of yours.” You nodded in agreement and made your way to the door, a figure stood out from behind the door to the sitting room, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you off, (Y/N)?” Sirius said blankly, his grey eyes bore into yours with an unsaid intensity. “I am, thank you Sirius.” You refused to lower your gaze as the older man regarded you, you could see the corner of his lip quiver slightly almost upturning into a smirk. George appeared by your side and looked between you and Sirius; he cleared his throat. “Right love, I’ll see you at the shop in the morning.” George said, his gave you a chaste kiss on the lips and opened the heavy door, waving at you until you reached the designated apparition point.

************

The Leaky Cauldron was filled wall to wall with people as you stepped through the door. You were pleased to be out of the December chill, your hands already red with cold from your short walk. You scoured the crowd for a path to the bar and deftly avoided a few rogue elbows and spilled pints, as you fought your way through the throng of people and placing your order with a round-faced witch. You paid for your glass of wine and with a smile told her to keep the few sickles change. You found yourself smiling as you nestled yourself into a corner, the red wine was cheap and tasted tangy as you swallowed a big mouthful; but the warm glow you felt in your chest was welcome. It was nice to see the pub so full all things considered, there had been massive backlash towards the Ministry in their handling of the Dark Lord’s return and you wondered whether this threat would stop people going out and enjoying their lives, tonight, it appeared not. “’Ello love, are you ‘ere by yourself?” You looked over your shoulder to see a portly man with a wide smile and flushed cheeks, his broad cockney accent was almost jarring. You managed to stop yourself rolling your eyes and offered him a curt smile. He smelled like he hadn’t bathed in days and a thick layer of dirt graced his face. “No, I’m just waiting for someone.” You lied, you hoped that would be the end of the conversation, that he would take the hint and leave you to your wine. You just wanted a moment to yourself, to not have to think about the shop or the ever-impending threat of a potential Death Eater attack. You hadn’t really had a moment alone since you arrived at The Burrow all those months ago, you had left all remnants of your former life at Malfoy Manor and thrown yourself head first into anything to take your mind off what happened there. You hadn’t received a word from your parents, you didn’t expect to really, but that chance meeting you and George had had with Mr. Paris in a muggle restaurant was enough to make you shudder. You wondered if the Healers at St. Mungo’s had managed to get Mr. Paris’ two front teeth to grow back after George had punched them out of his head. Needless to say, that was a lovely restaurant that you were no longer welcome at. “Me too. D’you want to wait together?” You had almost forgotten the stout man on your side, but his misguided determination in obtaining your attention was began to grate on you. He smiled a toothy grin and then coughed deeply, the teeth that remained in his mouth were yellow and as he coughed, he produced a stained handkerchief from his pocket and covered his mouth. You noticed the gold rings that adorned each finger of his hand, some of them looked to be encrusted with precious stones, but you doubted that very much. As his cough subsided, he cleared his throat and shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket. He looked at you expectantly. “No thank you, I’m sure they’ll be here any second now.” You lied again, you craned your neck in search for absolutely nobody and leaned up onto the balls of your feet. The man next to you followed suit, he tapped your arm. “Is he over there? There’s a man coming down the stairs waving at you.” The man pointed across the room where sure enough the bottom of an old staircase was in view, and a man in the distance dressed in black held your gaze as he descended. “Yes, that’s him! Thank you.” You said excitedly to the short man, you heard him chuntering behind you as once again you elbowed your way through the crowd, careful not to spill any of your wine. You smiled widely as you approached him. “Professor!” You gushed, “How are you? It’s so nice to see you!” Professor Snape’s usually hard exterior softened as he regarded you, he offered his arm to you and you took it. He nestled your hand in the crook of his elbow and hastened away from the pulsing body of people. “Miss (Y/L/N), you should not be here. It’s not safe.” Professor Snape whispered, he looked over his shoulder and you followed his gaze. You felt your body stiffen as you watched in detestation as Narcissa Malfoy approached where you stood, her repulsive husband quick on her heels.

She was quick to disguise her shock as she saw you, Lucius merely sneered as he clasped Professor Snape on the shoulder and flounced away in a flurry of black cloth. Narcissa’s almost stoic expression faltered as you watched Lucius exit the pub, your eyes found hers as she frowned. “Hello,” She said quietly, you stared back at her with a stony expression. You almost respected the nerve of the woman to talk to you after everything you endured at her house over the summer, you didn’t blink, you didn’t move. “Goodnight, Narcissa. Merry Christmas.” Professor Snape said after a while, she broke her stare and nodded. She kissed Professor Snape on the cheek and made her way to the doors of the pub, you watched as she cast a look over her shoulder to you and with an obvious smile, she left. “Come,” Professor Snape said gruffly, “Take my arm I shall apparate you home.” “I only live up the road, Professor. I’ll walk.” “Very well, I shall escort you.”

You walked in near silence with Professor Snape the short walk to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, you watched in amusement as the serious potions master gazed up at the giant automation head placed on the exterior of the shop removed his hat and positioned it back on his head in the dim light of Diagon Alley. “Not ones for subtlety are they, the Weasley twins?” Professor Snape smirked; you shook your head with a chuckle. “No, I can’t say they are.” “Is this where you live?” He asked, you nodded and produced your wand from your bag. “We live upstairs, the three of us.” “Three?” “Yeah, me, Fred and George. It’s…cosy.” Professor Snape hummed in agreement and took a step back. “Professor?” You asked, he looked expectantly at you and you bit your lip. “I never got a chance to thank you for what you did for me at Malfoy Manor. I cannot ever repay you for your kindness, I am in your debt.” Professor Snape scowled at your emotion and took another step back. “I was instructed to help you, Miss (Y/L/N). I did only as I was told to do.” He said somewhat unconvincingly, he averted his gaze and made to walk away. Instinctively, you reached your hand out and caught his sleeve. “That may be the case Professor, but still, thank you.” You looked earnestly to his pale face; he shoulders slumped slightly. “After I had received word as to what that oaf Paris had done…I did what I thought was right.” He stated, there was no over-sentimentality to his tone, like he was reading a shopping list. You decided not to press the matter further and turned toward the door to the shop. “Professor,” You asked again, his eye roll was detectable regardless of the few feet of distance between you. “What?” He snapped, his foot tapped impatiently on the cobbled stones. “Why are you here? Term doesn’t finish until tomorrow. That’s not to say I’m not happy to see you, of course I-” “I was unaware I had to run my schedule through you, Miss (Y/L/N).” Professor Snape quipped, if he tried to disguise the annoyance in his tone- he had done an extremely poor job of it. “Of course, sorry.” “If you must know, I arrived this afternoon. I had…business in London. Now go on, there’s only so much of your company I can stomach at one time.” You expected he was only being half serious, as his black eyes betrayed a slight softness and you smiled gently. “Goodnight Professor, thank you for making sure I got home safely.” “I’ll watch you inside.”

*************

“What do you think of this, Gin?” You held up a sparkly silver top to your chest and waited for Ginny’s verdict. Ginny turned to you with wide eyes, her expression frazzled. “No, I preferred the second one.” She thrust a red velvet dress into your hands as she frantically searched the racks of clothes for the perfect Christmas dress. “Where’s Hermione?” You enquired, you looked over your shoulder to where George, Ron and Harry all stood by the changing rooms, their arms heavy with shopping bags. You gave George a stiff smile, dismayed when he rolled his eyes and looked away. He had been acting strangely with you all morning since you met at the shop. He had barley said two words to you until everyone had stepped off the train. You were grateful that Ginny said she needed to do some shopping and the boys had decided to tag along. In truth, George was getting on your nerves. You could tell there was something bothering him and yet, every time you asked him about it- he refused to say. Eventually, you gave up asking. “She’s at her parents’ for Christmas this year. She’s fallen out with Ron.” Ginny replied disinterestedly as she held up a green Bardot-necked jumper dress, “What do you reckon?” “With your hair? Stunning.” You said with a smile. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief as she folded the dress over her arm and stepped passed you towards the till. You managed to grab the dress from her and slot it over yours. “(Y/N) what are you doing?” Ginny said as she tried to grab her dress. “Let me get your dress Ginny, as a Christmas present.” You pleaded, she deliberated for a moment before conceding and following you to the till. “At least let me do something for you, (Y/N).” Ginny said as she passed Ron her newest bag. He took it without thinking and then screwed up his face and passed it to Harry. “Tell you what, why don’t you come to the flat this week and we can have a girl’s night? I’m sure the boys can make themselves scarce for an evening, couldn’t you George?” George scoffed, you slipped your arm through his and he withdrew from you, putting his hand in his pocket; “I’m not being chased out of my own flat by my sister. Are you lot going to Floo to mums from mine?” “Yeah, might as well. It’s only round the corner, isn’t it?” Harry agreed.

You continued your way to Diagon Alley and through the buzz of the busy joke shop, you attempted to follow Ginny up the back stairs to your flat but realised George wasn’t behind you. Instead he was deep in conversation with a frantic looking Fred who was gesticulating wildly. Good, let Fred have a taste of what you’d received from George all day. You knew better than to get involved between the pair and arrived in to the flat just as Ron disappeared into the fireplace. “See you!” You waved as he vanished in a ripple of green flames. Harry smiled and waved as he took Ron’s previously occupied place in the fireplace and followed suit to The Burrow. As he departed, Ginny stepped toward you and enveloped you in a hug. “I’ll owl you about this week?” “Definitely,” You answered, “We’ll get it sorted.” You watched as Ginny entered the fireplace and disappeared. Just as the flames died, the door of your flat swung open and George entered, slamming it shut behind him. “Woah, what’s up?” “Fucking Fred, he couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery.” George muttered, he threw the shopping bags forcefully onto the floor and launched himself at the sofa, burying his head into the cushions. “Bloody hell George, do you want to be a bit more dramatic?” You scowled and stalked over to the discarded shopping bags and picked them up, carefully checking to see if anything was broken. You took them into the small kitchen they weighed a tonne. You just about managed to hoist the bags onto the worktop and sighed from the exertion. You were pleased with yourself, you had managed to find a few absolute bargains in London today which seldom never happened near Christmas. You had managed to buy nearly everything on your Christmas list; new baubles for the Christmas tree were the only thing left to buy. You had vehemently refused to let Fred design your Christmas decorations and instead saved the money you had earned from working in the shop to decorate the flat to your specific Christmas standards. You balled the carrier bags up and opened up a cupboard and shoved them deep inside as you placed the contents of the bags to display to George. “George, come and have a look at what I’ve got today. Just the last few bits n-” “And how much did this all cost?” He demanded; George; who was now stood hovering over your shopping looked furious as you jumped. You shook your head in shock, George had never spoken to you like that and you weren’t going to take it from him now. “It’s Christmas, George. You buy presents for people at Christmas.” “That’s all well and good when it’s not your money you’re spending.” George spat; your jaw dropped open for a split second before your face darkened. “Are you taking the piss? You think I’ve been spending your money?” “Well I don’t remember the last time you went to Gringotts, seeing as we do everything together.” He sneered and placed his hands on his hips. You offered him a sneer of your own. “What is wrong with you? You’ve been awful all day.” You said, you moved across the tiny kitchen to where he stood. “Merlin (Y/N), can’t I just be pissed off at you spending all the money? We don’t have much and between you and Fred we’re going to be out on our arses before New Year.” George’s voice was low and filled with spite. It took you by surprise, your normally lovely, cheerful boyfriend was replaced by this poison spitting man. “Well I’ll tell you what George, you can take all this stuff that I’ve bought for your family with my money back to the shops and I’ll just fuck off, shall I?” “If you wouldn’t mind.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You pushed past a seething George towards your bedroom and pointed your wand at your wardrobe and levitated your clothes into an open and waiting suitcase. It took longer than expected for George to appear in the doorway, but he did; arms folded across his chest. You were too angry to be upset, in that moment pure fury coursed through your veins as George’s accusations reverberated around your mind. How dare he talk to you like that? When your suitcase was packed, you locked it with a swish of your wand and pushed past George again, your shoulder made contact with his chest, but he didn’t flinch. “Where are you going?” He asked with a bite in his tone. “I don’t know. I’m fucking off, aren’t I?” “Going to meet Snape again?” You were shocked at that. You turned slowly; George’s face was as red as his hair as he met your eyes slowly. “Excuse me?” “That’s where you went last night wasn’t it? You went to meet up with Snape.” Your brow furrowed as you tried to process what George was saying, he didn’t give you a chance to respond. “You were seen leaving the pub together looking very chummy, (Y/N).” “I bumped into him in the pub and he walked me home.” “Convenient.” George muttered. “Why are you being a dick?” You demanded, your heartbeat pounded in your ears and your hand shook with rage. “Why were you so desperate to leave Grimmauld Place?” He stepped closer to you, almost closing the distance. The heat radiated from him in waves, what was normally so intoxicating to you, you now found infuriating. “I told you, I was tired and I wanted to be at home. Why would I want to stick around somewhere where I’m not wanted, George?” “You have to understand how it looks (Y/N). You, leaving Order headquarters to go and meet up with Severus Snape.” “Are you accusing me of being a Death Eater now?” “Are you saying Snape’s a Death Eater?” “No!”

George panted as he regarded you, his eyes wild. You could see the cogs of his brain ticking as he watched you. “Then why were you with him?” He asked quietly. Your hands trembled with rage as you tried to calm yourself. “I told you, he walked me home. Were you spying on me?” Your hand tensed around the handle of your suitcase, he said you were seen. Seen by who? “Don’t need to, it’s not like nobody knows who you are.” “What does that even mean? George, you’re not making any sense!” You exclaimed, you hated this. You wanted it to be over, you wanted to crawl into bed and never come out. “Are you fucking him?” George eventually asked, his eyes narrowed into slits as he awaited your response. Unfortunately, he wasn’t to receive one.

You didn’t know where you were going. You couldn’t go back to The Burrow, not after the argument. The thought of having to explain to Molly what George had said to you made you feel sick. She had been so kind to you, and if George suspected you of foul play, it was almost certain that Molly already knew. You couldn’t go back to Grimmauld Place either, you weren’t sure if there would be any members of the Order there; and potentially being alone with Sirius was absolutely out of the question. You walked solemnly along the cobbled road away from the shop, your suitcase squeaked as it rolled across the uneven stones; the only sound in the eerily quiet of the early evening. You still hadn’t formulated a plan, not even when you ordered a coffee and tucked yourself away in a corner of The Leaky Cauldron. You knew Professor Snape had warned you against being there, but it was the only place you could feasibly go. You half hoped George would have followed you; that he would appear looking very ashamed and apologise for his words. But alas, as the night grew darker and more and more people arrived into the pub, it became painfully clear that he wasn’t coming. You were alone.

You spied Tom talking to the witch who had served you the night before, she was beaming as she joked with her boss. She had such a kind face, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you watched her engage a few patrons in raucous conversation. She clearly enjoyed the attention; she threw her head back in laughter as though she didn’t have a care in the world. That must be nice. You stood and cast a sticking charm to your suitcase, ensuring it wouldn’t be stolen or tampered with and made your way to the bar. The young witch smiled brightly as you approached, her hand already extended for your empty coffee mug. “Would you like another?” She asked, you shook your head as you tentatively placed your hands on the bar top. You instantly regretted it as, as soon as your hands touched the marked wood, they became incredibly sticky. “No thank you, I am wondering whether you have any rooms available, though?” You asked as nonchalantly as you could, the young witch nodded. “I’ll just go and check with Tom.” She disappeared through a door behind the bar and you stood patiently and waited, you glanced over your shoulder to where you had left your suitcase and saw the portly man from the night before eying it suspiciously. You watched him as he gave your suitcase a sly kick, and when he noticed it didn’t move an inch, tried an even more forceful one. You arched an eyebrow as his shoulders slumped in defeat. “’Ello deary!” He called as he noticed you watching him. “Knew I’d bump into you again. Mundungus Fletcher.” He leaned forward and extended his hand to you and you shook it. You watched with delight as the man pulled his now sticky hand away and wiped it unsuccessfully on his pinstriped trousers. “’Ave to say, I was surprised to see a pretty young fing like you making off wiv Severus Snape last night. Never knew the old sod ‘ad it in ‘im!” You fought the scathing retort that threatened to fall off your tongue at the second insinuation of a sexual relationship with Professor Snape you had received within a few hours. You looked indignantly at Mundungus who snapped his fingers at the kind witch behind the bar. She rolled her eyes to you and began to serve him, as Tom followed slowly and approached you with an apologetic look. “Are you after a room, miss?” He asked. “Yes, anything you have is fine. It’s only for me.” You answered hurriedly, you produced your purse from the pocket of your coat and set it on the bar top. “That’s just the thing miss, all our single rooms have gone what with it being so close to Christmas. The only thing I’ve got left it the Merlin Room. And it’s Fifty Galleons a night I’m afraid.” Fucking hell, that was a lot of money. Certainly, more than what you had in your purse. You chewed your lip as you opened up the black leather purse and scooped out the golden coins and placed them in Tom’s waiting hand. “That should be Thirty there Tom, you keep hold of that and I’ll run to Gringotts for the rest now.” “’Ow much is it, girl?” Mundungus called from your side. “We’re short Twenty Galleons.” Tom answered plainly, his hand still outstretched. Mundungus reached deep into the pockets of his pinstripes and produced a load of gold pieces. “Is tha’ enough, mate?” Mundungus replied, he dropped the coins into Tom’s hand before you could protest. You looked bewilderedly from the innkeeper to the grubby man, Tom closed his had around the coins like a Venus fly-trap around a fly and smiled. “I’ll just fetch you the key, miss.”

Your cheeks were hot as you turned to Mundungus, it was made all the worse when you realised how bloody pleased he seemed with himself. “Thank you.” You managed curtly, “I was more than capable of walking to the bank and back though, Mr. Fletcher.” “Jus’ fink of it as a bit’a human kindness. Remember it next time you see someone in a bind.” “You don’t even know me. I could be anyone.” You replied, you were becoming increasingly annoyed by this man’s insistence in intruding in your life. “That’s where you’re wrong miss, I knows all abou’ you.” He smiled what was probably intended as a sweet smile, but it sent a shiver down your spine; he was menacing, this man. You didn’t like being in his debt. “The banks’ closed now anyway.” He sniffed. “Forgive me, Mr. Fletcher,” You began carefully, “I simply cannot allow myself to be in debt to you. Please let me pay you back immediately.” You waited for him to reply, your breath was coming short and you felt wildly out of your depth. You had seen both of your parents give people verbal lashings and negotiate alike, they made it seem so easy. You yourself had never been afraid of confrontation, but you were theirs then; you were known. You had the protection of your ancient family name- now, you were nobody. That frightened you. Mundungus laughed quietly, he brought his hand to his mouth as his laughter turned into a chesty cough. The stones in his rings glistened in the lamplight, his handkerchief even more stained than yesterday. He sighed when his cough stopped, a great, whisky scented sigh that permeated around your face. It took everything within your power to not wretch. “’Fing is miss, I’m not sure you can give me what I’m after.” He said with a sneer, you outwardly cringed. His eyes travelled the length of you, glancing twice at your bosom. You fought the bile that rose in your throat. “And what is it, that you’re after exactly, Mr. Fletcher?” You asked through gritted teeth. You watched as Mundungus sighed and leant casually against the bar. He looked over both shoulders before he leaned in to you, his face inches from yours. “Information.” He breathed with his whisky breath; you couldn’t help but flinch. “Information?” You repeated, Mundungus nodded. “What kind of information?” “Y’see, I am a salesman as well as a collector, miss. I sells what I collects, and I collects what I sells. And wha’ I’m wanting to sell now, is your privacy, miss.” He whispered; his face even closer to you. You could feel his vile breath on your face as your eyes widened in shock. “Goodnight, Mr. Fletcher.” You whispered as your face paled, you tried to move past him, but Mundungus caught hold of your sleeve and pulled your back flush to his torso. “No, no no.” He muttered. “I knows who you are, miss. I knows all about you, I even knows your boyfriend, miss! One of those Weasley boys, ain’t it? One of those twins, I’m sure.” You whimpered as Mundungus fiddled with the hair at the nape of your neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, please let me go.” You felt tears sting your eyes as Mundungus’ hold on you relaxed slightly. You lurched forward away from him in time to see Tom walk around the bar, room key in hand, a concerned look on his face.

“Everything alright, miss?” Tom asked, he looked between you and Mundungus. Mundungus gestured to you and you nodded with a strained smile, Tom dropped the key into your hand and turned back the way he came. You made to follow him but Mundungus was quicker on his feet than you had anticipated, his hand on your shoulder in an instant. You desperately tried to think what exactly he was trying to extract from you. “Now ‘ush miss, I don’t want no fuss.” Mundungus breathed, he patted your shoulder awkwardly and you trembled beneath him. “I’ll strike a deal wiv ya, ‘ow does that sound?” “A deal? What kind of deal?” “Good girl.” He smiled his yellow smile and gestured to the table where your almost forgotten suitcase still sat, stuck to the floor. “You said you’ve got money?” Mundungus mused as he sat across from you, wand stealthily pointed at you from his sleeve. “’Ow much you talkin’?” “About three hundred Galleons. In my savings.” You lied, there was about three hundred Galleons in the Gringotts vault you shared with George; but you still had access to your parents’ vault. You initially refused to take any money from it, but surely, they would have instructed the goblins to remove your access if they didn’t want you to use it. Besides, there was thousands upon thousands of Galleons in there. But Mundungus didn’t have to know that. You could see his face fall as he mulled over your words. “Hmm. Right. Tell you wha’, I’m feeling nice tonight. You meet me ‘ere again tomorrow night, same time and bring me one-hundred-and-fifty Galleons. Wha’ I paid for you tonight, plus a little extra- for my trouble, and I won’t tell your boyfriend tha’ your fancy man is waiting for you over there.” Mundungus pointed towards the other side of the pub and as you searched through the crowd you saw him, Professor Snape sat silently by himself; his eyes burned into yours. Your cheeks flushed scarlet. “Mr. Fletcher. Don’t be vile, Professor Snape and I don’t have any kind of relationship other than a strictly platonic one.” “Tha’ don’t matter. One-hundred-and-fifty Galleons.” “You’re trying to blackmail me. Why?” You demanded, you willed your voice not to betray your weakening resolve. “A mans got to eat, miss. It is nearly Christmas after all.” Mundungus said cheerfully. “But I haven’t done anything wrong.” You pleaded, desperate to understand what was happening, it seemed like a lifetime since you left the flat. You wondered if George was worried. “You try tellin’ your fella that after I tell ‘im I seen you two nights in a row, up close and personal wiv Professor Snape.” He said with a shrug, so fucking nonchalant. “You might not know this about me, miss. But I’ve known Weasley’s for years, we go way back. They ‘ave no reason not to believe me. And I know wha’ I saw last night.” “You didn’t see anything, you loathsome twit. Why would you interfere in my life like that?” You snapped; you were angry now you knew you weren’t in any immediate danger. He didn’t appear so frightening from the other side of the table, especially now you knew you were being watched. The horrid man didn’t even blink. “People talk. One-hundred-and-fifty Galleons.” Mundungus repeated, “Or I go I straight to Grimmauld Place right now and see who’s in. And you’d still owe me Twenty Galleons plus interest.” He offered you another grim smile as he pulled out his rotten handkerchief to dab at his brow. All this blackmail must be hard work for him. “’Fink of it as givin’ to the less fortunate at Christmas.” “You’re vile.” “One-hundred-and-fifty Galleons.”

You nodded grimly at the repulsive man and stood slowly, you made your way across the busy room, suitcase in one hand and room key in the other. You slowed and stopped just parallel to where Professor Snape sat. “I need to talk to you.” You muttered quietly, not looking in the potions master’s direction. “Not here.” “Where?” He answered, his voice low and his attention seemingly elsewhere. You dropped your room key on the floor and as you bent to pick it up, you flashed the number in his direction. He gave a short, sharp nod and you walked away hurriedly, up the creaking staircase to your room.

******

The room was to be expected. It was nicer than most of the rooms The Leaky Cauldron boasted, but still nothing compared to the luxuries you were used to. The bed at least, was large and there was a big-ish wardrobe. Nowhere worth the Fifty Galleons you had paid to stay though, you wished wholeheartedly that you hadn’t walked out of the flat. You wished you had just stayed at Grimmauld Place that night, none of this would have happened if you had. You tried to be angry at George, you just didn’t have it in you anymore. You even tried to be angry at Sirius for not trusting you, for making you feel so uncomfortable. It wasn’t any use, any resentment you harboured for Sirius Black had been shifted onto the revolting creature that was Mundungus Fletcher.

You washed yourself thoroughly in the tiny shower of the Merlin Room, anxious to get any whisper of that horrid man from your skin. You couldn’t wrap your head around how anybody could be so cruel, the only saving grace about the whole situation was that you finally knew how George had grown to be suspicious of you. If what Mundungus said was true, then he intercepted George that morning before you had met him and spilled poisoned seeds into the ear of your beloved with the intent of blackmailing you. What a hateful snake. But, on the other hand, you were disheartened at the thought of how quick George was to believe the tales of your supposed infidelity. With Professor Snape of all people, you couldn’t help but laugh sardonically at the idea that of all the men in the world, George thought the obvious choice for your unfaithfulness was Severus fucking Snape.

You dressed quickly into your night clothes and pointed your wand at your hair, it dried instantly, and you tried to relax. You poured a large glass of wine from the bottle that sat invitingly on the bedside table. It was nicer than the wine they served behind the bar downstairs, and you welcomed it as it warmed you from your toes up. Your stomach rumbled, you hadn’t eaten anything since that morning and you began to feel fatigued, the effects of the day catching up with you. You wondered how long Professor Snape would make you wait; would he wait until everybody else left before creeping up the stairs to your room? It sounded so sordid, you thought. He certainly had to wait for Mundungus to leave before he made his move, else you would no doubt find yourself with an even bigger debt to settle. Merlin, you thought, if he were to wait for Mundungus to leave, you’ll be sat waiting until New Years Eve. You tried to busy yourself by searching the room, it was warmer than it looked. The stone walls projected an almost medieval atmosphere, but with the fire burning contentedly, you were satisfied that it could be considered quite cosy. The curtains were almost as moth-eaten as the ones in Grimmauld Place and nearly as old too, and you felt as uneasy in the room as you did in Grimmauld Place.

It wasn’t long after you had settled sat on the bed was there a knock on the door. You scurried to it and opened it slightly, a sliver of light from the hallway encroached into your room and framed Professor Snape’s dark head as you granted him admittance. He closed the door swiftly behind him, but remained stood awkwardly, not quite able to meet your gaze. Instead, you pulled up two chairs by the fireplace. The wooden legs of the chairs scraped uneasily across the stone floor, but you persevered and gestured for your old professor to sit. You grabbed your wine and poured another into a glass for Professor Snape which he accepted tentatively. “Thank you for coming.” You began as you sat in the chair opposite his, you tucked your legs under you in an attempt to be comfortable. It earned an arched eyebrow from Professor Snape. “What did you want to talk about?” Professor Snape said, not wasting any time. You cleared your throat and took another sip of wine and your stomach grumbled again in protest; you ignored it. “I’m being blackmailed by Mundungus Fletcher.” You replied plainly, no need to beat around the bush. “Ah,” said Professor Snape, he brought his wine glass to lips and drank slowly. “I see. How much?” “One-hundred-and-fifty Galleons.” “Do you have it?” He asked, you nodded quickly. “Then I don’t see the issue.” “The issue is that this concerns you, as well Professor.” You said quietly, your cheeks felt warm as his gaze scrutinised you. It was like being back at school. “Please enlighten me, Miss (Y/L/N).” “Mundungus Fletcher has told George that he suspects I’m having an affair, sir. He has told me to pay him the money by tomorrow evening, or he will tell George that what he suspects is true, that he’s seen it with his own eyes. The affair is supposedly with you, sir.” You winced and waited for Professor Snape to say something, anything; but he didn’t. He sat there, an ashen look on his already pale face as he took another tender sip of his wine. “I shouldn’t be here.” Professor Snape stated finally, he wasn’t asking. You couldn’t help but nod, he was right. Under the circumstances, he absolutely shouldn’t be here, no matter how innocuous the meeting. “Perhaps not,” You said quietly, “I don’t know what to do.” “Well you’re certainly not going to pay the little cretin, that’s for sure,” Professor Snape said with a frown, “Allow me to deal with Mundungus.” Professor Snape titled his wine glass almost vertically as he drained what was left in his glass, you raised your eyebrows at his show but kept your mouth closed. Professor Snape stood and in two swift movements had opened the door and turned to you with a dark look. “I shall return.” And with that, he closed the door behind him, in the near silence of your room you could still hear his footsteps on the stone floor as he walked away. You mulled over your situation for a few moments, swirling the contents of your glass sullenly. You were sick to the back teeth of being a hapless damsel in distress, yes, you had endured some questionable fates in your short adulthood; but this one seemed to border on the ridiculous. You hadn’t done anything wrong, not a single thing and yet you sat in a lonely room feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt. Why? Why when you had no idea there were men as repugnant as Mundungus Fletcher out there who would create fantasies and try and profit from them? No more, you thought. Not this time.

You stood quickly and instantly regretted the decision, your glass of wine had gone straight to your head on account of your empty stomach. You blinked and tried to refocus your vision, when you were satisfied you made your way to the wardrobe. Grasping your heavy winter cloak, you draped it around your shoulders and pulled the hood over your head covering your face, and made your way quietly out of the room. You had no idea what time it was, the pub was full now as you came down the stairs. A few patrons looked over in your direction as you weaved through the crowd, looking for any sign of Professor Snape or Mundungus Fletcher. There was none, you scoured every corner and came up short. You cursed under your breath and exited the pub; the wind whipped around your body and caused your hair to stand on end as you looked out into the near empty street now pitch black. There was a scuffling sound to your left, and then a crash as if something large and metal had been dropped. You retrieved your wand and cast a nonverbal Lumos and followed the sound, you walked apprehensively down the alleyway behind The Leaky Cauldron, even with the light emanating from your wand, there was still much you couldn’t see. Wasn’t there an old adage about young witches walking down alleyways alone at night? You tried to push such thoughts from your mind as the sounds of scuffling increased, joined by hushed voices. You rounded a sharp corner into an even darker part of the alley, like a labyrinth of brick and mortar. “Nox.” You whispered, you lowered your wand but your grip around it tightened, ready for whatever you might meet.

“You disgusting, verminous cur-” You heard a deep voice, a snarl more than anything else. You continued your pursuit of the commotion and nearly gasped when you saw Professor Snape with his hand around Mundungus’ throat, his other hand pressed his wand into Mundungus’ cheek. You tried to make your body flush with the wall, trying desperately to disappear into the darkness. The sounds of Mundungus’ struggle were palpable now as you tried to steady your breathing. “S-Sev..erus! Come on mate, let me go!” Mundungus managed, his hand splayed against the cold brick and Professor Snape pressed harder into Mundungus’ face with his wand. Mundungus spluttered in fear and Professor Snape growled and lowered his face close to Mundungus’ ear and you stepped forward slightly so as not to miss anything that was said. “Did you think you could get away with intimidating a young woman?” Professor Snape spat, “Not only that, a Slytherin born into one of the oldest families in Britain?” He paused and Mundungus flinched, you wondered if Professor Snape had tightened his hold of Mundungus’ throat as a line of spittle had appeared at the corner of his mouth. “I would like to believe you are not that dense, Mundungus, and yet here we are.” “I saw an…opportunity Severus…you knows wha’ it’s like,” Mundungus struggled to get his words out, his voice was thin with strain. “She’s got loads’a money, she won’ miss a’undred or so Galleons!” “That may be true, but you have no right to play with the poor girl. And how much were you going to charge her tomorrow as interest for your silence?” Mundungus was quiet then as Professor Snape finished speaking. The bastard! Hatred began to build within you as you watched Mundungus try to nod. “Alrigh’, Severus. Please.”

Professor Snape removed his hand slowly from Mundungus’ throat and took a step back, his wand still aimed directly at Mundungus’ face. Mundungus bent over and coughed, he rubbed his neck and breathed deeply. “Come.” Professor Snape snapped, he prodded his wand against Mundungus’ shoulder and pointed down the alleyway, in the direction where you stood. “Fucks sake, Severus. Where are we going?” Mundungus whined. Professor Snape snarled and resumed his close proximity to the stout man. “We’re going to pay the Weasley’s a visit, you and me.” He snarled and panic flashed across Mundungus’ face. “Wha’? Now?” Mundungus asked incredulously, “It’s the middle of the nigh’!” “Precisely, it should all be fresh in your mind shouldn’t it?” Mundungus sighed and straightened his moth-eaten jacket. “She still owes me Twenty Galleons for the room though.” The dirty man stated indignantly, Severus snarled, and, in a flash, his dark clothed arm swung, and the clatter of coins echoed across the alley. Mundungus scrabbled to the floor to retrieve the coins and Professor Snape laughed without humour. “Here.” He ordered and Mundungus flitted to your professor’s side submissively. He took hold of Mundungus’ arm and apparated out of the alley.

You exhaled sharply and pulled your hood back from your face. Could it be that easy, really? In a matter of minutes Professor Snape had once again come to your aid with no talk of thanks, and it troubled you. You walked slowly back to The Leaky Cauldron and sluggishly made your way back to your room.

**********

You hadn’t realised you had fallen asleep until a faint knock on the door woke you. You opened your bleary eyes and ran a hand across them, yawning widely as you opened the door. A rather tired looking Professor Snape stood before you, arms folded, and a scowl adorned his face. “I’ve been knocking for what felt like years.” He said grumpily as he followed you into the room. You yawned again and sat in the armchair you had previously occupied earlier in the evening, Professor Snape followed suit. “Sorry, I must have dozed off.” You said quietly, you were suddenly extremely anxious to find out what Professor Snape had to say. Rather than reporting to you what transpired in the hours he had been gone; he closed his eyes. You stared rather dumbfounded as his hands that he had clasped in his lap fell apart. Was he asleep? Of all the fucking ways you thought your day was going to go, staying in The Leaky Cauldron with Professor Snape asleep in your armchair was definitely not in the top one hundred. You chewed your lip deliberating what to do. Realistically, you should wake him. He would be mortified when he awoke to find he had fallen asleep in your room, but there was something in the peaceful rising and falling of his chest that stopped you. You hadn’t really looked at him before then, but you noticed the dark circles around his eyes and how gaunt his face looked. Yes, he was always bony but at that moment in time, he looked ill. You sighed and fetched your cloak which still held the chill from your excursion outside and pulled it over Professor Snape and tucked it under his chin.

You climbed uneasily into bed and pulled the cover tight to your chest, willing sleep to come. Professor Snape snored lightly in his chair and you covered your mouth to suppress the giggle that threatened to escape. This bordered on some of the more absurd things that had happened to you and you lamented as to how you had reached this point. You must have stared at the ceiling for hours, at least it felt like hours, birds chirped happily outside of the window and finally, you felt your eyelids become heavy.

When you awoke, the room was full of light. The curtains were drawn back and the fire roared in its place. “Good morning.” At the sound of Professor Snape’s voice you almost jumped out of your skin, your heart thundered against your chest and you flung your hands over your eyes. He was stood behind the chair he had fallen asleep in, but the small table was filled with food. “Fuck!” You exclaimed as you clutched your chest. “You scared the shit out of me.” “Yes, I have that effect on people.” Professor Snape mused, a small smirk on his face. You stared at him for a moment, just a fleeting moment, a smile crept to your lips. “Sleep well?” You asked, feeling instantly full of glee as a tiny blush inched over Professor Snape’s cheeks. He averted his gaze and gestured to the table laden with pastries and meats, but most importantly, coffee. You stomach betrayed your hunger as a mortifyingly loud rumble echoed throughout the room. You groaned and got out of bed; the cold floor made your feet tingle as you padded over to the table. You shoved half a croissant into your mouth and moaned as the buttery, flaky goodness melted there. Professor Snape cleared his throat. You shot him an apologetic look and continued devouring the treat. Picking up a mug of piping hot coffee you sat in the armchair and hooked your legs underneath you. Professor Snape joined you with a mug of his own and took a great gulp, sighing as he rested the mug on his thigh. “I didn’t know they did breakfast here.” You said after a brief silence, the coffee was delicious, strong and sweet; exactly the way you liked it. “They don’t, I went home when I woke up this morning and brought this here.” He said as he stared intently into the fire. “You made me breakfast?” You enquired, rather taken aback at this act of kindness. “I made myself breakfast, I just happened to make enough for you as well.” He said flatly, you rolled your eyes into your coffee but decided not to press the matter further. “I spoke to George last night.” Your ears pricked at the mention of George, you sat up straight eager for Professor Snape to continue. “Well, I should say Mundungus spoke to George last night. I was simply there to…supervise.” A sly smile tugged at his lips as he drank again from his mug. “And?” You pressed, you wished you could have been there to see what happened. How George reacted, what he would have thought to Mundungus and Severus Snape knocking at his door at Merlin-knows what time. “Was he at the flat?” You asked. “No, he has joined his family at The Burrow. We went to Grimmauld Place first and Shacklebolt told me where he was.”

George had gone to The Burrow? Probably to tell his family all about your fight. Your stomach turned at the memory of how you had spoken to each other, of how he had doubted you. “Needless to say, everything has been thoroughly put right. Mundungus Fletcher won’t be bothering you again.” He continued. You sighed a breath of relief, it was sorted. Everything was sorted. But why didn’t you feel better? “I’m really sorry, Professor. Yet again you have been dragged into my dramas.” You said wistfully, you meant it too. Professor Snape has shown you such kindness when he had no obligation to, it was endearing. “Shut up. I have a reputation to maintain. I will not allow my name to be dragged through any licentious plots, real or fabricated by a common street thief.” Professor Snape said, an edge of bitterness twinged his words. You felt you understood. It was not right for him, a man eighteen years your senior- your old professor no less, to be embroiled in any scandal with an ex student, no matter how innocent it might be. You offered him a small nod and watched as he took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, he gave you a cursory glance before he asked; “Do you mind?”

You shook your head, and he placed a cigarette between his teeth and lit it. With a flick of his wand, the window flew open and the chilly December air flowed into the room, eliciting a shiver from you. You watched him as he took a long drag, the smoke twirled in beautiful shapes above his head before disappearing into nothing. “I wonder what you think of me, sir. You must think I’m a mess.” You smiled sadly; he lifted a hand to stop you. “On the contrary, I think you’re doing rather well given the circumstances.” He paused to take another drag of his cigarette. You placed your coffee mug on the floor and wrapped your arms around your body against the chill. “I’m returning to Hogwarts for the Christmas break. My business is finished in London, and I detest being here so my house will be empty. If you have need of somewhere to go.” You eyed him suspiciously. He stared blankly at you, as if he had just asked you the time. “You’re offering me your house?” “You may stay in my house whilst I am away. I understand you are short of options at this time.” You shook your head; it was all a bit much. Had you saved Professor Snape from a terrible fate in a previous life or something? “Professor,” You faltered, your breath came quickly. “Why are you doing all this for me? I can’t imagine you go to this much trouble for all your old students?” “Don’t be ungrateful.” He chastised, he tossed his cigarette into the fire and it roared in acceptance. He sat straight in his chair and leaned forward. “It may come as a shock to you, but not everyone means you harm, (Y/N).”

That was the first time he had used your given name. “I just don’t understand why-” “If you don’t want my help, then I shall take my leave.” “No!” You said, “No. Stay, please. Sorry, I’m just…struggling, I suppose. Everything seems to be happening a million miles a minute and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” You felt tears sting in the corners of your eyes. “I am so appreciative of you, sir. You have done more than my own family would have done. Thank you.” “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Professor Snape muttered under his breath, you could have enquired further, but decided not to. “So, how did you leave things last night? With George?” “Well, obviously he felt very foolish. He was absolutely incensed with Mundungus, I feared for his safety at one point. He said he would seek you out at some time today.” “…Oh.” “He wanted to come last night, but Molly intervened. Said you’d probably relish the time alone.”

Which you did, well you would have done, if you were alone. Your heart leaped at the idea of seeing George soon, but just as quick as your excitement grew, it was extinguished by a feeling of disquiet. George had said some really hateful things to you, he had been so quick to assume you had slighted him and refused to see reason when you challenged him. You had never thought that George could be like that, it made you uneasy. “This displeases you?” Professor Snape said, his voice twinged with amusement. “I thought you’d be climbing the walls with excitement.” You ignored his dig and walked slowly to the window; it was really very cold now. You watched as people meandered from shop to shop, children laughed full of Christmas cheer. You smiled sadly as you watched them, that was you once. Your father would hoist you onto his shoulders and you would race down the streets of Diagon Alley, singing songs and laughing. This was to be your first Christmas without them, your parents. And whilst they had hurt you beyond measure, you found in that moment you missed them terribly, even your cold and indifferent mother. She would have a glass or two of sherry on Christmas night and invite you to sit at her feet as she stroked your hair. But that part of your life was well and truly over with now, a memory to be forgotten in time. A part of you that was dead, and nobody mourned. Sad really, wasn’t it?

“I am going to leave now, (Y/N). Thank you for letting me sleep. I’ve been so tired, I’ve got so much to do I- well, you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.” Professor Snape said from his chair behind you. “I’m travelling back to Hogwarts today.” “Have a safe journey.” You replied, you made your way across the room and offered your hand to Professor Snape to shake. He arched an eyebrow in amusement and took your hand, he shook it roughly. He nodded once and left. Alone, absolutely, definitely alone. Turmoil, absolute, definite turmoil. You hadn’t noticed Professor Snape had slipped a piece of parchment into your hand until it dropped to the floor, you picked it up inquisitively.

65 Spinner’s End, Cokeworth. If you have need, you need only knock.

Severus

*********

Your suitcase trundled behind you sarcastically as snowflakes drifted aimlessly to the ground. You snatched your cloak tight around your chest as you cursed yourself for not packing a pair of gloves. The Burrow was quiet, you could tell from the stillness of the garden. There was usually a creature of some sort causing absolute chaos in the hedgerows, but not today. You steeled yourself against the wind as you approached the front door, you could hear voices on the other side; not the usual calamitous laughing but a stillness you hadn’t expected. You knocked once and pushed the door open; it was warm and the heat stung as it hit your near frozen cheeks. Fred was the first one to spot you as you removed your cloak from your shoulders and hung it delicately onto a peg by the front door, careful not to get anything wet. He moved towards you and took a cold hand and gave it a squeeze before he said; “He’s in the kitchen.”

Indeed, he was, George stared absently out of the kitchen window, mug of tea in hand. He didn’t hear you as you came in, you took a seat at the table and waited. It must have been minutes before he turned around, you weren’t sure if George was aware there was someone staring into the back of his head or whether he had run out of tea, but nevertheless, he turned. A multitude of emotions flashed over his face as he regarded you, you tried to keep your face as neutral as possible as you stared up into the face of the one person you loved more than anything in the world. “(Y/N),” George whispered, “I’ve missed you.” “I think we should talk, George.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley #severus snape #professor snape #nobody can know #mundungus fletcher #Harry Potter #harry potter reader insert #george weasley #weasley twins

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poormeowmeowcollector · 3 years

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Trying To Balance With A Part Of Yourself Missing

Summary: Thor bargains with Odin on Loki's sentence, and he wins. Loki is moved with the Avengers to fix his past mistakes. But Odin's term changes everything, and Loki's foe is not their mistakes, but their self-image.

Warnings: each chapter has individual, the work in general is pretty dark

Notes: When a dialogue of Loki is in bold, he is speaking English. And when a line is in italics without a dialogue, it's an intrusive thought.

Chapter 5: The Doctor

Chapter summary: Banner takes Loki for the tests.

Warnings: Language, gender dysphoria, gender dysmorphia, internalized racism, intrusive thoughts, needles, blood, medical themes, mentions of child neglect [not on screen], mentions of self harm [not on screen]

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This time, Friday wakes them up, reminding them of the appointment with Banner. Loki groans and drags himself out of the bed and into the bathroom, it's better to get rid of that smell, at least for as long as it can hold.

At least Loki doesn't have to look at their body as they wash themselves, an advantage of blindness they didn't think of until now. Still, being forced to touch all the time is unpleasant and uncomfortable to no end. And trying to wash his hair without scratching his hands on the horns or his claws scratching his scalp is a task unimaginably difficult.

Loki now understands why Jötnar run around naked, wearing a shirt with these horns is almost impossible. But, they must hide the chest plate, at least from everyone but Thor. And Banner, after the examination. And, shit, he probably has to take breakfast with them…

They sigh and glance at the mirror, only to make sure they don't look so much for a mess. His appearance is acceptable, so he takes the now charged earpiece and walks away, wearing it as Friday starts instructing.

A hand touches their shoulder, making them flinch away. Thor, the owner of the hand, mutters something, probably an apology, but he can't hear it thanks to Friday. They take a breath out and smile at Thor, muttering a good morning. Thankfully, Friday stops talking.

"How are you feeling? You look…" Thor trails off, trying to appear as polite as possible.

"F-f-feverish? It's fi-fine, just-just a b-bad day," he brushes off, suddenly glad that he doesn't need Friday's translations.

"But, you're ill," Thor argues, making Loki sigh.

"I'm not-not, it's a bad d-day," they answer.

"Loki, you can't fool me. You're unwell, why don't you admit it?" he groans. Truth be told, Loki rarely admits any weakness with ease. As long as one can walk, there's no need for whining, Odin had said countless times and Loki never stopped obeying.

"I d-d-do. It's a b-bad da-day," he speaks slowly and as clearly as possible.

"Loki, you're having a fever. It's not just a bad day, and you are allowed to admit that you're ill. Please," Thor begs, actually begs. If Loki wasn't so pissed off, they'd be touched.

He pulls Thor closer, mostly to maintain some secrecy. "I am on m-m-my pe-pe-period," they hiss, watching as Thor's last brain cell comes to life.

"Oh… well, this explains the irritability of yours, brother. You know your patience always runs low these days," Thor nods, all matter-of-factly. Loki has to take deep breaths and remind themselves again and again that murder is a convicted crime, and they should not get locked up in a Midgardian prison. Or any prison, anytime soon.

Luckily, Thor remains silent after that. The only one who breaks the silence is Friday, reminding Loki that he can't eat before a blood test, or the results will not be accurate. Fine, they didn't really feel hungry anyway.

Perhaps, if you skip today's food entirely, you'll lose that disgusting bloating of yours. He tries hard to not grimace at the thought. No, they have to remind themselves, it will leave after a few days, it always does. Just do the damn tests and then eat, it's not that hard.

When they reach the kitchen, Loki can feel eyes on him and a mix of confusion and irritation in the air. Alright, just stay quiet and it will pass.

Wanda mutters a good morning, her magic swirling around her like some form of shield or blanket. Loki repeats the wish, forcing a smile. They don’t know which is worse, the jealousy building up or the guilt over the last time they listened to that feeling.

Thor helps him find a chair in the bright chaos, and even pulls it. For fucks sake, they're not unable to sit on a fucking chair! He tries to prove it by being the one who adjusts it on the table.

"Morning, dude. How're you feeling?" a man asks, Wilson. Just by his voice, he sounds kind, less judgemental.

"Fine, thank you for asking," they answer, plastering another fake smile (one of the best skills being a prince has given them).

Still, Wanda is seeing through it and attempts to find out, by using a simple mind invading spell. One that makes the base of Loki's skull feel ablaze. As loud as he can, he thinks of the word stop, making Wanda pause and retreat, her curiosity replaced with shame.

Then, a conversation occurs. Loki doesn't want to take part, but the combination of the voices and Friday's translations is overwhelming, making his head pound. Friday catches the message and stops translating, but the voices are still too fucking loud. Loki sighs and decides to just take a sip of water, and see if it'll help, but it turns to ice before it touches their lips. But fuck, he's thirsty and in pain.

A hand touches their shoulder, and they jump up, turning around to see a short person dressed in purple. "Are you ready for the tests?" He asks, Banner. Loki nods and gets up, pardoning himself before walking away.

"Are you okay?" he asks, making Loki groan.

"Wh-wh-wh-why does e-e-everyone ask me-me if I'm okay? I'm f-f-fine!" they snap, stopping only after feeling Banner freeze.

"I asked because you looked like you were about to start crying over there. No offence, they can be loud sometimes, but you didn't seem like you were taking it well," he answers, half expecting his skull to be crushed. But Loki is just ashamed he didn't hide the pain better.

"N-n-n-none t-taken. Noise is not exactly we-we-we-welcome, and I used to to-to-tone it down w-w-with spells. Now, I c-c-c-can't," they explain, just beginning to collect themselves.

"You know, you can ask Friday to deafen, if you use the earpieces. It helps," he suggests. Loki nods, happy with the silence that they fall into. At least Banner doesn't feel like he has to talk all the time, even though he's nervous. He's still afraid of him, even though it's not necessary any more.

The lab is a fucking bright room, Loki has to cover their eyes and let Banner navigate them, after lowering the lights.

During the examination, Loki comes to realize that Asgard and Midgard are opposite when it comes to healing. First, Banner promises secrecy, any information stays private until Loki asks for a leak, or in a life or death situation. And then, he just asks about everything and listens to the answer. No doubt, no comments and no painful examinations with leeches or smelly potions that make people’s skin pink. Well, the examination on light sensitivity was painful, and Loki swears to piss on the grave of whoever thought a flashlight in the eyes is a good idea, but the rest were fine.

When he was young, Odin would not easily believe Loki, no matter what. The times when they were forced in hunts that were leaving them in the healing wing for weeks or feasts until they faint on their plate due to fever are uncountable. The show would usually begin with Loki faking the illness because he’s lazy, come to its climax when Loki would be deemed delicate and weak while being tossed in the healing wing and the parade of hypocrisy would end after Loki returns to his chamber only to be forgotten there. Loki learned two lessons from this. One, if they can stand up, they're not ill, and they shouldn't bother other people with whining. And two, if he's truly ill, it's wiser to deal with it on his own than let others draw conclusions.

The change feels so odd, yet it’s so welcome.

Until the time for the blood test.

"Just follow my instructions, I'll make it as painless as I can," he promises, and then instructs Loki to lift their sleeve and show the armpit, the non-dominant one. Loki doesn't show his nervousness, and tries to appear as cold as possible when he reveals the hand, and everything he's done to it. Banner doesn't comment and doesn't show pity, but his skin grows just green enough for Loki's eyes to notice.

The other instructions were easy. Clench the fist, breathe in, breathe out and relax the hand. Banner is surprised to say the least when he sees the tube filling with blue liquid instead of red, but doesn't comment.

Do you think he could bleed you dry and be done with this shit show? Loki hitches a breath and clinches their stomach, stopping when the sound of something breaking and a hot pain blooms in their arm. Did he freeze the tube and break the needle?

Banner fetches something from a table and grabs Loki's hand, muttering something about getting the needle out. Loki hisses from the pain, and manages to freeze Banner's glove, but he still covers their hand with gauzes. The white starts turning blue and freezing in some parts, Banner is about to do something about it but Loki hums a no.

"Do you want to try again?" he asks, Loki could feel how he was expecting a negative answer. But he nods a yes and covers his right hand, so he’ll uncover the left one and clench. This time, they don't dare looking at the needle and mentally play some random songs for a distraction. Banner tells him to clench again, and then gives him some cotton to press in the hole before he vanishes behind some machine.

"What were you humming?" Banner asks, making Loki's face go ablaze.

"I… em… a song," they mutter, and mentally berate themselves for the lack of words. Banner laughs, but not out of malice. And he hands over a paper box and a bag. Loki stares at him and tilts his head, but Banner tries to brush it off as "something that's always done when someone gets a blood test". As if Loki is also a fool, apart from blind.

They're about to get dismissed and leave when Friday tell them via the earpiece that Banner will ask questions when he sees the test results. Loki sighs, it's better to be the one who tells him, right?

"Ba-banner, about th-th-the te-te-te-test, y-you may so-see some… abnormalities in th-th-the tests. It's n-normal, yet-yet-yet uncomfortable," they trail off, feeling confusion on Banner's side instead of clarity.

"Would you mind being more specific? I need to know what to ignore,"

"Hormonal, m-mostly… on, em…" he groans in frustration, feeling like an absolute fool, "on me-me-menstruation hormones… and y-y-yes, I kn-know wh-what it implies. B-but, d-don't tell anyone, only Th-th-th-thor knows," they get it out, waiting for a myriad of feeling emit from Banner. But he just makes a small oh sound and hands over another paper package.

"I guess you'll find them easier than tampons. If you finish them, just come to me. Don't try to steal Nat's, you'll be disappointed, and possibly earn a chinned tooth," he smiles, but Loki can sense the warmth from saying Romanov's name. Love, he concludes, what a complication when towards your co-worker, from what he's heard.

"W-w-w-we're done?" they raise an eyebrow and look down at Banner, glad he doesn't look afraid. Interesting, just enough inspection, and he isn't afraid any more. What a gullible scientist.

"Friday will find anything we missed, and she can help Tony make you some glasses, if you decide you want them, or inspect the brain damage from the other guy," he answers. Loki nods and is about to turn around, before thinking twice about the answer he got.

"W-w-wait, wh-wh-wh-what brain d-damage?" they blink. Apart from the nightmares, thoughts, flashbacks, headaches and general fuckery, his brain works perfectly. Well, perfectly might be an exaggeration, but the Hulk hasn’t done anything.

"You're telling me you walked around with a dead ear since the Attack and didn't notice?" Banner is now the one to raise an eyebrow.

"I w-w-was in so-so-solitary c-c-confinement until y-y-yesterday. Not much to h-h-h-hear," they explain. But… he should have heard Thor coming today in the corridor…

"Yeah, your left ear is dead, or the nerves getting messages from there to your brain. You can thank the other guy, and there's nothing to be done," he isn't exactly mild on announcing another damage on this throughout fucked up body, but it doesn't exactly matter. So, they just nod and go back to hiding under their sheets, but this time they make Friday play some music, just to cover up the silence.

~~~~~~

Taglist: @lucywrites02 @electroma89 @the-emo-asgardian @rorybutnotgilmore @hybrid-in-progress @weirdfangirl2416 @darkacademicfrom2021 @nicoistrying

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lemonpeter · 3 years

Text

STARKER, by Peter B. Parker

Chapter 8: Bondage

That’s only the tumblr title so it shows up in tags, the real one is on ao3 I believe

A/N: how do these chapters always end up so long? we don’t really know. peter’s going through it, yall. we’re officially halfway through this story, and we can’t wait to get the rest of it up for you to read. big things are happening!! - bloo and bri <3 💕

(also- you may have noticed, but for every chapter, the title is in reference to the au or trope it features. we aren’t just lazy and unoriginal lol...there’s a method to the madness)

Warnings: privacy invasion (Peter dealing with the fallout of the previous chapter), very nff, d*m/s*b relationship

Masterlist ao3

————

With shaking hands, Peter slid the glasses from his face. He closed his fist around them as he tried in vain to steady his breathing. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

Once again, it felt like the world had shifted on its axis and everything was closing in on him.

What the fuck was that? How had SHIELD infiltrated EDITH’s programming in order to allow May into his illusions? How long had she been real? If she’d been the May he’d conjured every time...

That would explain why his spidey sense had reacted so strongly that first time, when he introduced his family to Tony. He had known that something was wrong, but hadn’t been able to discern what. Because he was looking for a threat in his environment, not a digital one.

Hindsight was always fucking 20/20.

May’s presence in the illusions aside, the fact still making his skin crawl, how long had SHIELD been watching him? What had they seen? Were they always watching?

The thought made Peter feel sick to his stomach. They all knew what he was doing, they saw him with Tony. That meant that they...they *knew how he felt about* Tony. Fuck, they’d seen them having sex, something that was not meant for anyone else to even know about, much less witness. If they’d been watching at all, they had to have seen it, there was no way they hadn’t.

Tears began to sting in the teen’s eyes, and he swallowed thickly around the bile that was making its way up his throat. He felt...dirty. Violated.

Betrayed.

This was supposed to be just for him, just for him and Tony. But instead, a bunch of people he didn’t even know were watching his deepest fantasies play out with an illusion of a man who was thirty-odd years older than him. Not to mention the fact that said man had been…gone for nearly a year.

...That meant that even May had seen.

The reality of that fact made his stomach flip, shame and disgust burning in his veins.

Not only had his aunt seen him cuddled up to Tony, watched as he married the man, not holding anything back... She’d probably seen him in every vulnerable moment, any time they’d slept together, even the less explicit intimate interactions the two of them had shared. Just like the people at SHIELD had.

He wrapped one arm around his torso in a weak attempt to comfort himself and soothe his churning stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything in a few hours, but the meager food he’d had was threatening to make a reappearance. The more he thought about the reality of the situation, the more it sunk in, the worse he felt.

Guilt piled on top of shame, disgust was added onto betrayal, violation was added to the entire mix. And it all made him want to crawl out of his own skin and be sick.

He wanted to disappear.

The only consolation he had was that they wouldn’t be able to get in again. There was no way for them to influence him or have any sort of impact on the illusions. He couldn’t control anything else they might do, but EDITH had guaranteed that the new 24/7 monitoring and firewall improvement would ensure that they wouldn’t be able to get back in and mess everything up.

He couldn’t believe May had done something like that. Well. He could, but he didn’t want to. He knew that she wanted him to go back to New York, back to her and Happy, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that she’d actually get involved enough to try to intervene.

He’d thought that maybe she of all people would understand why he was doing it. She had lost so much herself. Maybe she would get it and let him be. Since he was finally truly happy, for the first time in a very long while.

But apparently not. She’d somehow come in without permission, lied to him in order to get him to trust her and then proceeded to try to take him away from the one thing, the one place, the one person that made him feel safe. She obviously didn’t give a fuck about Peter’s actual happiness and well-being. She was just being selfish, not thinking about what he actually wanted but rather what she wanted for him.

He still missed her, though. What she did... really hurt him. He wasn’t going to get over it anytime soon. But he still loved her. He knew that in reality, she was the only living family that he had left. He wished that she could have just understood, could have accepted the choices that he’d made and would continue to make. Maybe they could have even coexisted, in the new world he was creating for them. He could have had his family back, all of them, together and whole, just the way it should have been.

He was doing everything in his power… How was everything still falling apart? The whole point of leaving, of coming to the compound, of not communicating with anyone, was so that he could get away. So that he could have some peace.

And he’d found some, or at least he thought he had.

But his happiness was once again being stolen from him.

He was so tired of having to deal with the utter crock of bullshit that was his life. Fucking Parker luck.

He didn’t want to be in charge anymore.

Maybe he didn’t have to be.

(In the back of his mind, he thought briefly again of the fact that everything he did had spectators, whether he liked it or not. Despite feeling massively uncomfortable, he knew there was nothing he could really do about it, not without having to rewrite part of the program. And there was no way he was going to do that. There was always a small chance that he would lose any existing data. He couldn’t risk losing what he had built with Tony.

If they were going to watch, then…..well, he was going to put on a show.)

***

Peter had decided that he was going to bring his idea up to Tony. Even after thinking about it for a while, he wasn’t sure how to go about it. What was he supposed to say? “Hey Tony, I want you to be my dom?”

If he was being completely honest, that probably would have worked. (In fact, he knew it would have.)

But Peter couldn’t make himself just come out with the words like that. It wasn’t him. That wasn’t how he did things.

So instead, when it was time for Tony to come home from work, and he had gotten himself ready, put on some of the lingerie he’d bought during the honeymoon, Peter positioned himself on the floor in front of the elevator, kneeling on a pillow he’d taken from the couch.

He was only there for a minute or two when the doors opened and out walked his husband, making his heart beat wildly in his chest.

“Peter? Baby, what’s going on? What’s wrong? Why are you in the floor?” He paused, taking in the fact that Peter’s body was clad in only a lace bralette and matching panties, the aegean blue material popping enticingly against his skin. The man blinked, letting his eyes roam over the man’s submissive form before they snapped up to meet his husband’s. “Pete?”

For a moment Peter just sat there, searching Tony’s face. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steel himself for what he was about to do. His gaze met the older man’s once more. “Daddy.”

Eyes flashing, Tony reacted to the title much like Peter had hoped he would, and he recognized the dynamic that the boy was trying to set up. But he still wasn’t sure what was happening. “C’mon, baby, talk to me.”

That was the last thing Peter wanted to do. He shook his head minutely and closed his eyes again, sighing heavily.

Why couldn’t Tony just roll with it? He never had a problem indulging his kinks with no conversation before. They never needed to talk about it. Or so Peter thought. Why was the man insisting that he come out and say it this time?

“If you really want this, I need to hear you say it, Peter.”

“I’m tired,” he said finally, voice soft. “I don’t want to think anymore, I don’t want to think about any of it. I want…” Peter let himself trail off, swallowing. “I want to give control to you, Tony.” He let his eyes meet his husband’s again.

The man watched him for a moment more, face neutral. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, as his eyes darkened and his stance shifted almost imperceptibly.

But Peter definitely noticed.

Something about the subtle change in his posture made Tony immediately appear more dominant, and Peter felt something deep within himself give. Yes, this was exactly what he wanted. To give himself to Tony, all of himself, until there was nothing left of him that wasn’t Tony’s, too.

A low hum emanated from the taller man’s chest as he crossed his arms, sharp yet caring eyes still trained consideringly on Peter’s kneeling form. “You need Daddy to take care of you, honey? Show you that you don’t have to do everything on your own, that it’s all gonna be okay?”

Peter was nodding before he even realized it. “Please,” he whispered. “Tony, please, yes.”

“Ah-ah,” Tony chided, walking forward a few steps until he was standing right in front of the boy. He reached down, taking Peter’s chin in his hand. His grip was firm, but gentle enough that it didn’t actually hurt. “That’s not my name right now, kid. What do you call me?”

Mouth suddenly dry, Peter swallowed. “Daddy.” The word had the muscles in his lower stomach clenching as he felt that molten heat begin to pool deep inside of him.

Tony smiled down at him as he ran the pad of this thumb over Peter’s bottom lip. “That’s right, baby.”

Peter let his lips part and he pushed his head forward slightly so that the finger entered his mouth. He gently sucked on the digit, enjoying the weight and warmth of it on his tongue.

“Do you trust me, Peter?” Removing his hand, Tony shrugged off his suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor and rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up.

“With my life,” Peter said automatically, still staring up at the man with wide eyes.

“Good.” His hands moved to pull at the knot of his tie, feeling the boy’s gaze burning into his skin. The gold of his wedding band glinted in the light. “Now crawl to the bedroom.”

Tony watched as Peter did just that, adjusting his position so that he was on all fours as he began making his way across the entryway and through the living room. A shiver ran through Peter’s body, and Tony knew that the hardwood floor was cold, especially with practically all of his skin exposed.

But he knew that his baby could take it.

Peter would take whatever Tony wanted to give him.

Staying a few paces behind his lover at all times, Tony’s eyes roved over Peter’s ass, watching the way it moved as he began ascending the stairs. He licked at his bottom lip, already imagining all the ways he was going to take his boy apart, break him down until he was begging for Tony to fill him up, to stuff him full of his cock.

The heat of Tony’s eyes on him had Peter’s blood thrumming in his veins as he reached the top step, turning the corner where he could see their bedroom door a few feet away. He felt...anxious, but in a good way. He didn’t know exactly what the older man had planned for him, but he was being honest when he said he trusted Tony.

(He didn’t say that Tony was probably the only person he trusted at this point.

Once they had both made it into the room, Peter now kneeling down on the floor at the foot of the bed, Tony didn’t let the teen out of his sight even as he pushed the door closed, arm extended out behind him. It shut, the sound nearly deafening in the quiet.

Shifting his weight, Tony opened his mouth, making no moves to get closer to his partner at the moment. “How you doing, baby?” The man tried to keep his voice soft, so as to not startle Peter, but as he had already allowed himself to slip pretty far into his dom headspace, he couldn’t completely get rid of the deep, commanding rasp.

Peter swallowed. “I’m okay,” he said quietly, making eye contact for a second before lowering his gaze to his knees, where his hands were loosely clasped.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Just okay?” He paused and ran a hand through his hair, resulting in him looking slightly disheveled. It was at odds with the rest of his put-together appearance. “I’m gonna need more than okay, Pete. What are you thinking? Tell me.”

Eyes wide, not able to explain why he felt so compelled to comply, Peter did. “I’m great, Daddy. I’m just...nervous, I guess. I trust you, more than anything, and I want to know what’ s going to happen. Also I just,” he paused, a flush coming to his cheeks. “I love you so much.”

The older man’s eyes softened, and then he did take a step towards Peter. Then another. “I love you too, Peter.” He kept walking until he was standing right in from his husband, staring down at him, the tips of his shoes not even an inch from the bare skin of Peter’s knees. “Your safeword is ‘rhubarb’, okay baby? Repeat it back to me.”

A hint of a smile tugged at Peter’s lips at the word. He took a deep breath to compose himself before peering up at Tony again and speaking. “My safeword is ‘rhubarb’,” he intoned lightly.

“Good boy.” Something ignited in Tony as he witnessed the other’s reaction to the words. “You like that, don’t you, baby?” As if he didn’t know the answer from the barely audible mewl that escaped his lips and the way the ruddy tinge to his cheeks intensified. “Like knowing that Daddy’s pleased, that he’s happy with you?”

Peter nodded softly. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s all you want, isn’t it baby?” His hands moved to his tie, which was draped over his neck. He pulled it down and held it out in front of him, an end in each hand. “Close your eyes, Peter.”

Obliging after only a moment of hesitation, Peter’s lids fell shut. He sighed at the feeling of the soft, cool silk on the heated skin of his face.

“How does that feel?”

“It’s nice. I like it.” He paused. “There’s no strong smells in here which is nice but I can hear everything. I mean I already could but- This is so much more-”

Tony tutted softly, seeing the way the boy was getting frustrated with himself for rambling a bit, the nervous energy needing some way to escape. “Shhhh, relax baby. You don’t have to think, remember? Turn that little genius brain of yours off for a bit, huh? Let Daddy handle it, I’ll take care of everything, Pete.” He made a point not to touch him, not wanting to overwhelm him any further.

Peter sniffed, his nose twitching. “Okay.” He shifted his posture, rolling his shoulders and leaning to the side a bit to adjust his legs. He focused on the beating of Tony’s heart rather than his own, finding it more reassuring. “Okay,” he repeated, quieter this time, mostly speaking to himself.

Tony let them sit in the quiet for a moment, until he was satisfied that Peter had calmed down. “Good job, baby.” Hands dropping to his waist, Tony began to unfasten his belt. The sound of the metal clink might as well have been a gunshot with the way that Peter jerked. “Easy, kid, it’s just me.” After he pulled the leather through the loops on his pants, he let it drop down to the carpet where it landed with a thud. He undid his button and zipper before pulling his cock out so that he could stroke himself to full hardness.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty, down there on your knees for me,” he groaned. He circled his thumb around the head a few times, spreading the wetness there as he took in the sight before him. “So perfect for Daddy.”

Peter’s nipples had hardened underneath the dark lace and he pressed his thighs together at the sound of Tony’s hand moving over the slick skin of his shaft. Saliva was beginning to pool in his mouth; he could feel the heat of Tony’s erection in front of his face, the deep musk of the man’s scent like a drug to him. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat. “Please,” he whispered.

Now fully hard, Tony grabbed at Peter’s mussed curls with his left hand. He used his right to guide his cock to the boy’s lips, letting the tip rest there before tapping it against them a few times. “Open up, sweetheart.” When Peter did as he was told, Tony let out a deep sigh at the feeling of his mouth suckling on the head.

Peter whined again. His tongue danced around the tip of his husband’s cock and he sucked greedily at the salty fluid there. It was so heady, and he could already feel himself slipping down, bleeding into that space he’d always wondered about. His jaw began to go slack, the rest of his body relaxing in kind.

“There you go, baby,” Tony groaned, starting to cant his hips, pushing himself further into the wet heat of Peter’s mouth. He could tell from the way Peter suddenly went more pliant that he was starting to drop. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

The boy took him readily, even unconsciously reached a hand up in an attempt to find Tony’s hip and pull him closer. He keened in displeasure when Tony gently nudged him away.

“Hey, uh-uh, hands behind your back, kid. No touching.”

Another whine, but the young man once again followed the instruction. He began to bob his head, the lewd sounds of his mouth moving on the slick flesh filling the air.

Tony kept his fingers tangled in Peter’s hair as he cursed under his breath. “*Fuck*, Peter, that’s it baby. So perfect, you suck Daddy’s cock so good.” He started to thrust his hips again, shallowly at first but then getting deeper. When he reached the back of Peter’s throat, the boy’s muscles contracted around him as he gagged, desperately trying to swallow. “Shit, shit,” Tony muttered, eyes slipping shut at the sensation.

When Peter started to tense up, rising on his knees slightly, the man pulled back, leaving him spluttering as he tried to catch his breath. Thick drool was running down his chin as he coughed, and Tony didn’t hesitate before running his dick through it. “Open,” he commanded, scooping some of the liquid up with the pads of his fingers so he could push it back into the boy’s mouth. His cock was quick to follow, immediately going as deep as he could in order to make Peter’s body jerk again. “Swallow.”

Peter did his best, trying not to choke as the muscles in his throat contracted weakly around the intrusion. He tried to focus on breathing through his nose, but he gagged anyway, lurching backwards even though he was unable to get away, tethered by the firm grip of the hand clutching at his head.

Pulling back to let him breath for a moment, the sound of the frantic gasping making him grow impossibly harder, Tony only waited a few seconds before snapping his hips forward again. He fucked gently in and out of Peter’s mouth, praises falling unbidden from his own. “So perfect, Peter, god, you’re perfect. So good for me, kid.”

He could feel himself getting close, too close, after a minute so he roughly pulled Peter from his dick. “Shit, baby, almost made me cum,” he breathed heavily, almost as loud as the boy’s hurried lungfuls of air, and slowly tucked himself back into his slacks, still slick with spit. “You did so good, Peter.” His fingers released Peter’s hair, running through it soothingly a few times instead before moving to the lack of his head to tug at the blindfold.

Peter was firmly in subspace now, so the older man felt that the sensory deprivation wasn’t necessary anymore. And he wanted to see those big brown eyes for what he had planned next.

Kneeling down in front of him, Tony kissed the teen’s forehead and then his lips. His thumb swept over the apple of his cheek. “Hey, baby, can you look at me? How are you doing?”

Said eyes blinked up at him tearily, and Peter sniffled before coughing wetly. “Good,” he said, voice soft and wrecked, only able to meet the man’s gaze for a moment before his eyes fell. They paused on Tony’s clothed erection for a moment until they were trained on his own knees again. He blinked a few times before his mouth opened. “Knees hurt.”

Tony immediately moved, scooped the boy into his arms. “Thank you for telling me,” he said into Peter’s temple, pressing a kiss there before he gently deposited him on the bed. “Lay down for me, honey.” His eyes ran over the slight body sprawled out on top of the sheets, taking in the flush that seemed to cover most of Peter’s skin.

He looked absolutely delicious, slightly dazed with his cock hard and leaking in the dark blue of the lace panties.

Leaning down, Tony pressed gentle pecks over each of Peter’s red kneecaps, then switched to leaving a trail of them up the inside of his thighs.

Peter sighed happily, squirming a bit at the touch. He inhaled sharply when he suddenly felt the heat of Tony’s mouth over his fabric covered erection. “Daddy,” he whimpered, hips automatically twitching up in an attempt to find more stimulation.

“Shhhh,” Tony soothed, pulling away. He rubbed his thumb over this inside of Peter’s ankle. “Think you can kneel again for me, baby?” At Peter’s slight frown, he clarified, smiling softly. “Not on the floor, up here on the bed. Can you do that?” When he received a soft nod in response, he helped get the boy into position before climbing off the bed to rifle through one of the drawers in the nightstand, reassuring Peter that he just needed to grab something.

Peter watched him for a moment, mind drifting. He felt floaty, like he wasn’t quite in his body. It took a lot of effort to wiggle his toes, they felt...far away. Moving his fingers was easier, but it still took a good bit of concentration. Everything was soft, muted, like his head was stuffed full of cotton. Or something thick, like molasses.

It was a feeling that he decided he liked.

Suddenly Tony was back in front of him, stroking his cheek. “There you are, kid. Gonna tie you up now, okay honey?” He waited until Peter made eye contact with him before accepting it as consent, pressing a soft kiss to his lips and beginning to fiddle with the bundle of soft, black rope in his grip.

Peter smiled dopily to himself as he watched how Tony wrapped the silky cords around one hand before unwinding them again.

His gaze stayed on the man’s hands. He trusted those hands with anything. They were strong, capable. He never worried that those hands would hurt him. Not unless he wanted them to.

His eyes snapped up to Tony’s face when the dominant cleared his throat, calling Peter to attention once more.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, not breaking the heated eye contact that followed. He was getting lost in the depths of Tony's dark irises.

Tony hummed softly, fingers sliding against the soft rope that he was holding. “Don’t be, baby. It’s alright. What were you thinking about?” It was asked gently, but was clearly more of a command to answer than just a casual question.

“Your hands,” Peter answered instantly, cheeks heating at how eagerly he responded. He wanted to look away but found himself unable to.

“Uh huh. And what about them?”

“How strong they are. And beautiful. And how much I trust them. How much I trust you,” he whispered. He finally broke the eye contact, face burning. He probably sounded ridiculous.

“Look at me, honey.” Tony watched him, moving closer until he was kneeling on the bed in front of Peter. “I’m so glad you trust me.” He leaned in and pressed a gentle yet firm kiss to the sub’s lips as his hands moved to remove the blue lace from Peter’s chest. “Gonna take this off okay?”

Peter nodded slightly, melting into the kiss and whining when the heat of the other man’s lips left his.

A low chuckle came from Tony when he heard. He let the bralette fall to the floor at the side of the bed. “Sorry, baby. I’ve got something else I need to do before I can keep kissing you. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Peter’s bottom lip poked out slightly in a pout, despite his words.

“Thank you. Now, can you work with me here? I’ll need you to stay still for this part. Then we’ll lay you back down to do the rest.”

Peter nodded obediently, fixing his expression as he gazed at his husband.

Tony got to work quickly, staying silent as he focused.

The rope was looped around Peter’s chest, resting snugly on top of his pecs as it was brought back around and secured.

It was wrapped around again, underneath this time. The rope was tight around him, but not enough for it to hurt or even dig into his skin uncomfortably.

All he knew was the firm pressure of the cords around his body, holding onto him. He knew that he felt safe.

His eyes slipped shut as he relaxed, letting Tony artfully secure the silk rope around his body.

He didn’t open them again until he felt the warmth of his partner’s hands pulling away. He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been spaced out, peacefully floating in his mind while Tony worked on him.

Tony leaned back to admire his handiwork, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “How does that feel, baby?” It certainly looked gorgeous, the black silk contrasting perfectly against Peter’s pale, lightly freckled skin.

“It’s-“ Peter’s voice was crackly as he started speaking. How long had it been since they started? Much longer than he’d realized, it seemed. “It’s really nice. Tight. But not too tight. Huggy.”

The older man laughed softly, rubbing a finger over one cord. If it was obvious that Peter was deep into subspace after the blowjob, Tony didn’t even know how to describe the boy’s current state. He loved it. It was nice to see him so relaxed and content.

He’d obviously needed someone else to take control of him for a while. And Tony was happy to help. He’d do anything for Peter.

“That’s good, honey. I don’t want it to hurt you. It’s supposed to be calming. Is it working? Do you feel safe?” He couldn’t keep the amused note out of his voice.

Peter nodded sluggishly, like the movement took all his focus. And it honestly did, given how deep he was in his headspace. Everything was soft and warm around the edges and nice.

“Good. Let’s lay you down now, okay? I’ll do your wrists next. Then your feet.” Tony walked the boy through the plan, letting him get used to the idea. He rubbed at his back as he straightened up on his knees, humming. “Not as young as I used to be, huh.” It was more to himself than anything.

“That’s okay, Daddy,” Peter spoke up gently as he moved forward on the bed a bit. It was hard to do so without being able to put his arms out to help steady him, so he was a bit wobbly on his knees, but managed to get to the center of the mattress. “I like you just the way you are.”

Tony chuckled, nodding. “I guess I’m glad for that, huh.” He placed a hand on the small of Peter’s back, helping guide him first into a sitting position, legs out in front of him, and then so that he was laying on his back. “Come on, baby. I know you’re all relaxed and everything, just need you to help me out a little with this.”

Once Peter was settled, he relaxed into the down comforter, content to just watch what the dom was doing.

Tony grabbed the final lengths of rope that he’d need to finish up. One for Peter’s wrists, then two others: one for each of his ankles. Those would be used to tie his feet to the end of the bed, keeping his legs spread. Less calm-inducing than the others, but it was infinitely more functional given his plans.

He took the longer cord first, humming as he tried to think about how he wanted Peter’s hands tied.

Typically he’d go for behind the back, it always had a nice, clean look and made the temptation to touch lessen. It also did a lot for making one feel truly restrained. But he needed the sub to be on his back, so he ultimately decided that his hands would be tied in the front.

He mentally went through the rope work he was planning, wanting to make sure he didn’t overlook anything, before he began executing the action on his husband.

It took only a few minutes for Tony to secure his hands in front of him, before he was moving on to his lower body. He tied the rope around his ankles and feet, so that the pressure wasn’t all in one spot and making the boy sore, and then finished by securing it to the footboard of the bed.

Peter tugged at the bonds slightly when he noticed that Tony was done, looking down at the loops around his ankles from where his head was propped up on the pillows.

He knew that he could easily get out of the restraints if he wanted. But the thing was...he didn’t want to.

He was finally able to give up control, not having to constantly have everything in his grip. He was able to hand it all off to Tony, letting himself relax.

And it was absolutely perfect.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as Tony’s hands started sliding up his sides, stopping when they reached the harness wrapped around him.

“You look amazing, baby,” Tony mused. Then he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the center of his sub’s sternum. Right above the place where the harness was divided up the middle and split to loop over Peter’s shoulders.

As he pulled his lips away, his hands came up to cup at Peter’s chest. His pecs were pushed out from the way the rope was tight around them. Tony was entranced.

“Look at these gorgeous tits,” he teased, thumbs quickly swiping over Peter’s peaked nipples.

It caused Peter to flush and shiver, arching up into the slight contact. It was nothing too serious, but he needed it all the same.

“Daddy,” he whined, breath catching in his throat. “Please….”

“Please what?” Tony asked, smirking slightly. “Use your words, kid. What do you want?”

Peter huffed. “Want you to touch me,” he breathed.

Tony’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Oh, is that all? Want me to touch you? Well, baby, I’m sure I can do just that.”

The gleam in his eyes made the teen slightly nervous again, but-

No, maybe nervous was the wrong word. He still couldn’t quite come up with a better description, though. Maybe he was… He was excited. Tony obviously had plans for him. And he still couldn’t wait to know exactly what they were.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he said sweetly.

Tony hummed softly, quickly pinching one of Peter’s nipples before withdrawing his touch entirely. “You remember that, okay? You wanted me to touch you. Acted like you’d die without it.”

Peter whimpered at the sharp stimulation and then again at its absence, hips rocking up unconsciously. “I’ll remember, Daddy, promise.”

“Good. I think it’s about time we start.” He paused for a moment, sitting back as he looked over his boy. “You remember your safeword?”

He shook his head as Peter nodded. “I need you to tell me what it is, kid. So I know that you know.”

Another little huff, the teen squirming impatiently. “It’s ‘rhubarb’, Daddy. Please-”

Tony smiled. "Alright, baby, thank you." Reaching out, he caressed Peter's cheek before leaning down to press their lips together. He let his tongue swipe over the teen's bottom lip and he was instantly granted access.

Peter mewled when Tony’s tongue licked at his own, body going boneless when a hand also began to apply a gentle but firm grip on his neck. He could feel the metal of Tony’s wedding ring. The soft, plaintive sounds just kept coming while Tony explored his mouth and a punched out little gasp left him when he suddenly found himself under the pressure of the man’s bodyweight. Without his permission, his hips jerked forward, desperately seeking more friction than the snug press of the lace panties against his leaking cock. The differing textures of Tony’s shirt and pants sent a shiver down his spine, and while the pace of his rutting was slow, the amount of force behind it increased.

Breathing heavily, Tony pulled back for a minute and turned his head so that he could mouth wetly at the side of his husband’s neck. He sucked a bruise into the skin there, drinking up the high, whines that the action elicited from Peter. “That’s it, baby, you gonna use Daddy’s body to get off?” He let out a groan when Peter’s erection slid against his own where it lay trapped in his briefs and suit pants.

Nodding, the boy shifted as he tried to move his limbs to wrap around Tony’s neck and waist. He cried out softly when he couldn’t, pulling at his restraints. “Daddy,” he whined, voice thin. “I want- I need-”

“Shhhh,” Tony soothed, lips capturing Peter’s again before pulling away, a strand of spit connecting them. “I know what you need, Peter.” He licked filthily into the teen’s open mouth. His dick throbbed at the way Peter went boneless underneath him again, offering himself up and letting Tony explore his mouth in a way that was truly indecent.

Their bodies undulated against each other as they made out, and Tony could tell that the younger man was getting close by the way his muscles would clench every couple of seconds.

He ground down against the soft, pliant body on the mattress, groaning. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, looking into Peter’s moony eyes as the boy rutted desperately against his abdomen. “You’re so perfect, Peter, so beautiful. Shit, c’mon kid, make yourself cum for Daddy. C’mon baby.”

“Ahhhhh,” Peter whined, squeezing his eyes shut. “Daddy, please, gonna- I’m gonna-,” the words were cut off by a choked gasp as he tensed, toes curling. Still trapped in the panties, and in between their bodies, his cock jumped in its confines, hot spurts of sticky cum pooling underneath the head and smearing with his movements.

Tony could feel a wet patch forming on his thigh and he moaned low in his throat, his own erection almost painfully hard. But this wasn’t about him, it was all for Peter. He’d get his turn eventually. “Good boy, Peter,” he whispered roughly, pressing kisses wherever he could reach, taking in the blissed out look on his boy’s face.

“Daddy,” he sighed, heart thumping wildly in his chest. Peter’s body continued shuttering through the aftershocks, hips twitching up weakly as Tony pulled away.

After one more kiss, Tony started sitting up again to look over the teen’s body. His mouth watered at the sight of the cum against the lace covered hipbone, and the corresponding stain on the dark fabric of his pants. He ran a hand lightly over his own cock, adjusting it. “How did that feel, baby? Happy now?”

“Mhm….” he mumbled, again going limp against the bed. He felt like he was melting, disappearing like wet spun sugar. Everything felt slow. “Jus’ what I wanted, so good Daddy….” but he couldn’t deny that he still wanted more. He wanted his Daddy’s hands on him, possessive and guiding. Although he already felt the sensitivity creeping in, making him think that maybe waiting for a little bit before going again would be a good idea.

“Uh huh. That’s good, honey. You were so good for me, Peter.” Tony’s fingers trailed up Peter’s thigh, watching the muscles flex and tense underneath his touch. “But I’m not done with you yet, kid.”

Peter made a confused noise in the back of his throat before he started whining as his Daddy’s fingers brushed over his slowly softening cock. He arched his back, pushing his ass down into the bed in a fruitless attempt to get away from the touch. “Daddy, too much.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. He didn’t move his hand away, since Peter didn’t safeword, but he did pause, not doing anything more. “Too much? Do you need to use your word?”

The teen slowly shook his head, breathing hard. He didn’t want Tony to stop. He was just sensitive and he knew that the feeling would only increase.

“Okay, baby. If you’re sure.” He hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of Peter’s panties, slowly starting to tug them down his thighs. He grinned at the sight of the teen’s flushed cock laying against his hip, skin slick with streaks of cum. “You look gorgeous, Peter. You know that?” He brushed over the half-hard length, chuckling at how the boy twitched. “I know, I’m sorry. But I’m just doing what you wanted.”

Peter figured that was right. He had wanted to be touched. He should have known that was going to come back to bite him in the ass. A soft whine left him as Tony’s fingers started massaging his cock back to hardness. Although it didn’t take much.

“There we go...I knew you could go again. With that incredible recovery period of yours,” he teased.

Suddenly his touch was gone and Peter squirmed, hips rocking again. But he stilled when he noticed what Tony was doing.

The older man started with a chaste kiss to his lips, trailing presses of his lips down the teen’s body slowly. He moved down the bed as he worked, settling between Peter’s thighs with his lips on his hip bone. Hardly an inch away from where Peter wanted him.

Peter’s cock twitched against his stomach, like it was trying to reach Tony’s mouth. “Daddy….”

“Uh uh,” Tony chided, blowing a gentle breath across the sub’s damp skin. “You stay still. I’m doing things at my pace, you need to be patient.”

Dropping his head back against the pillows, Peter let out a shaky breath. He had a feeling that it would be a long night.

#starker #peter parker #tony stark #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #B&B write #Peter’s EDITH!verse #SbPBP #nff #starker nff

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retrievablememories · 4 years

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how’s this? | johnny (m)

title: how’s this? pairing: johnny x reader genre: non!idol au, smut request: “Can you please write a smut scenario with Johnny where Y/N and him are best friends and he comes in her apartment unannounced to find Y/N in lingerie in the mirror. Unbothered she asks him what he thinks.” word count: 3.6k warnings: kinda-but-not-really voyeurism?, oral sex (69), dirty talk, a lil angst? a/n: the title is from the hyuna song, although the song itself doesn’t really relate. i don’t feel as confident about this fic compared to my others tbh, but... 🤕

Johnny is your best friend. There’s little you don’t know about each other, few things you haven’t done together—well, at least on a platonic level. You might’ve kissed each other once or twice, when you were younger and still trying to figure out the opposite gender, but little more than that has happened between you.

You’re endlessly grateful that he can be someone so reliable, someone who guards all of your secrets and bad moments like they were his own and knows you inside and out.

His place in your life earned him the honorary perk of getting a key to your apartment when you first moved in, so he could drop by whenever he needed to, or whenever you felt like having him. He’s used it on more than one occasion, but he tries not to encroach upon your space too often, knowing you like time to yourself, too.

You are Johnny’s best friend. He values your friendship among some of his closest relationships, and there’s rarely a day when you don’t cross his mind. He appreciates your humor, your personality, and your support of even his wildest endeavors, fueled by the idea of you two always being there for each other.

For Johnny, your closeness makes it a little harder for him to come to grips with the fact that he likes you much, much more than friends are supposed to. He’s not quite sure when the scales tipped this way, unable to pinpoint a specific moment in time when the lines blurred, but part of him hopes that this is the one thing he can keep from you. He’s convinced that you see him practically like a brother and nothing more, and although there have been many times when he wanted to confess, he’d rather not jeopardize your relationship over his feelings.

Even if that means he has to spend many of his nights fucking his hand and pretending its you, or writing new songs and realizing all the lyrics are about you.

It’s hard not to think about you this way—and it’s especially difficult whenever he, Jaehyun, and Mark debut a new song at the cafe where they do regular performances. You’re always at the front, watching him and his bandmates with admiration and cheering them on with your other friends. For just a few hours, he can allow himself to believe that your smile is only for him.

Your apartment key comes in handy on one miserable day when Johnny is locked out of his place and it’s pouring down rain. Of course this happens the one time he forgets to check the forecast and leaves without an umbrella.

Your apartment is the closest to where he lives, close enough to walk to—run, in this weather—so he heads there without a second thought. After dealing with shitty customers at work and now this, he’s not in the mood to talk with his prickly landlord about his key; that will have to wait until tomorrow. He holds his bag over his head as he makes his way to your place, wondering if he should text you first. His phone is liable to get drowned as soon as he pulls it out, though, so he reasons that he has enough time before you get home from work to let you know he’s come by.

He’s relieved when he reaches your apartment building a few minutes later, soggy and cold, and he spends a few moments wringing himself out as best as he can before heading up the stairs.

Johnny takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches your floor, and soon enough he’s standing in front of your door. He slips his key into the lock and walks in, a pleasant shiver going down his spine from the warmth of your apartment.

He’s surprised when he hears music coming from your room. It’s loud enough that you likely can’t hear him, because you usually would’ve appeared at the sound of the door opening if you weren’t already in the front room.

Maybe he isn’t thinking entirely straight today—the earlier events did do a number on his composure. Any other time he would’ve made himself known before walking into your bedroom, but he makes a beeline for the door after dropping his things to the floor. You’ll probably fuss at him for the mess later, but he’ll make it up to you somehow.

Johnny pops into the doorway, already feeling less stressed out by the idea of seeing you. “Whassup bestie—” He’s stopped in his tracks by the sight of you standing in your full length mirror.

You’re wearing a black lingerie set, one with more lace than he knows what to do with. Something warm settles in his stomach as his eyes drink in your body, exploring every line and curve in a way that he hasn’t quite allowed himself to before. He’s seen you in bathing suits before, but in this entirely new context, something about the way the material hugs your body makes his blood rush south.

You quickly notice him standing there, though you don’t react with shock or even annoyance like he expected.

You and Johnny stare at each other for a few long seconds. He grips the doorknob as if he means to close the door, or maybe he just needs something to keep himself upright. His mouth hangs half-open from the words he meant to stay that promptly died on his lips. You smile coolly, finally breaking the tension, and his cock twitches at the sight of you grinning at him like that while wearing your pretty lingerie.

In hindsight, he’s surprised this situation hasn’t happened sooner.

“What do you think?” you ask, speaking a little louder to be heard over the music. You turn back to the mirror to give yourself another once-over. “It’s new. I bought it not too long ago, but this is my first time trying it on.”

“I…” Johnny knows the tips of his ears and his face must be red by now. “It looks great on you, really, um...really sexy.”

You smirk. “Good to know.” You turn away from him to shut off the speaker, and even with the music still on, you can hear his sharp intake of breath when his gaze falls to your ass. With the music now off, you casually walk over to where he stands. By now, you’ve given him a full show, and he has just enough shame left to pretend like he wasn’t staring.

“You’re soaking wet,” you say, furrowing your eyebrows at the state of his clothes and hair. You peel Johnny’s jacket apart to expose more of his shirt, which sticks to him and outlines his abs as clear as day. “You should take a shower before you get sick or something.”

Johnny is a little bewildered at the unaffected way you speak to him after being walked in on while wearing nothing but a few scraps of fabric. “I-it’s not like I brought any other clothes,” he says, willing himself to look in your eyes and not at your breasts as he speaks.

“Then I’ll put these in the dryer and you can wear them again later,” you say it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “But seriously, get undressed…” You trace your finger against the collar of his shirt, and that one motion has his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to swallow. “...you’re dripping all over my floor.”

Johnny can only nod at your instruction. Light flirting is nothing new for either of you, but this situation feels charged in a way he hasn’t experienced with you before. He dares to wonder if you could maybe feel something for him too; and does that mean he failed at hiding his own feelings like he thought he could? His mind grows a little hazy at the idea of this going somewhere further, though he isn’t sure if he should hope for that much yet.

“Seriously, go, Johnny. You look like a drenched cat.” You push him gently in the direction of your bathroom, and he finally trudges down the hall with his head spinning.

Johnny leans his head against the tile wall of the shower, enveloped by the citrusy smell of your body wash. He turns the knob a little closer to the cold setting and closes his eyes, letting the water rush across his body. He’ll warm himself up under the hot water later, but right now he needs to take care of the problem throbbing between his legs. He can’t quite bring himself to masturbate in your bathroom with you only feet away in the apartment, so he settles for the classic cold shower until he can regain his thoughts.

Sighing, he pushes his fingers through his hair and thinks back to all the times he could’ve admitted his feelings but didn’t. “...Shit. I’m an idiot.”

Johnny walks back into your room with a towel around his waist. You’re leisurely lying on the bed scrolling through your phone, still wearing your two-piece set. He has a good view of your ass in this position, and he groans inwardly as he feels his dick trying to come back to life. Maybe he should’ve jerked off in the shower after all. You sit up when you hear him step into the room, throwing your phone on the bed beside you.

“You good?”

“I’m fine,” he says, though he doesn’t feel like it. His clothes aren’t done drying yet, and he didn’t think far enough ahead to consider that he’d be wandering around in nothing but a towel until then, but it’s too late to change that. He sits on the edge of the bed. “Look...are you...up to something?”

“Up to what, Jonathan?” You like calling him this when you want to tease him a little, though it takes much more than that to ever truly upset him. He isn’t quite sure how to frame his question now that he’s said it. Wearing that lingerie probably isn’t the best answer, because you’d been doing that before he ever entered your apartment. But the fact that you haven’t put anything else on yet has the wheels in his mind turning.

“Like, do you…are you...” He wiggles his eyebrows and glances over your body, trying to play it off like he’s joking, but you aren’t buying whatever he’s trying to sell. The usual finesse he has when flirting has vacated the premises.

“I know you’re not losing it over some underwear, Johnny.” You say this, but your eyes signal that you already know how he feels about it. “It’s not that different from our trips to the beach.”

“Come on. The beach is way different from this, Y/N.”

“Then tell me what’s different.”

“The difference is that I want to fuck you.” It slips out before he can really think it through, but it’s too late to snatch the words back now. He worries if he’s toed too far across the line. “Um, I mean—if you want? I don’t want to make shit weird—”

You crowd in behind Johnny, pressing your breasts against his back and resting your chin on his shoulder. You know you’ve got a better handle on the situation than him right now, but you also hope he doesn’t notice the slight tremble in your body. He seems stuck between wanting to lean into you further and stay stock-still. “Is that your big secret, Johnny Suh? You want to fuck me? You should’ve just said so. It’s not weird.”

You haven’t reacted in any of the ways he thought you would tonight, and it makes him think maybe he’s fallen off on being able to read you. Before he can respond, your lips are on his. He’s almost surprised with himself at how immediately he responds to your kiss, prying your lips apart so he can slide his tongue into your mouth. He lets some of his self control slip, his cock swelling under his towel as he tastes the inside of your mouth and grips your chin.

You make light work of Johnny’s towel, slipping it away from his body and gripping his half-hard dick in your hand. He groans into your mouth when you do this, and his first reaction is to push up into the circle of your first, wanting that friction on his skin. Your hand and his hips move in sync as you pump his shaft and he seeks more of your touch, moaning at the way your fingers spread his precum over his dick.

You break the kiss to move from behind him, settle at his side, and push against his chest. Realizing you want him to lie down, he does so, his reddish hair fanning out across your comforter. He almost shoots right back up when you lean down with his cock in your hand and draw your tongue across the tip of it, lapping up the beads of precum threatening to drip down. “Fuck, Y/N…” Your tongue passes his slit over and over again and he has to grip your thigh to ground himself, wanting nothing more than to make you deepthroat him until he comes in your mouth.

Your ass is facing him in this position, and no sooner than the idea comes in his head does he grasp your hips and maneuver you until you’re hovering above his face. You make a noise around his dick, letting him slip from your mouth before asking, “What are you doing?”

“...Returning the favor. Have you never 69’d before?”

“N-no, but…” Your thoughts trail away when he pulls your lacy panties to the side and exposes your pussy to the warm air of your room. You try to brace yourself for the sensation of his tongue on you, but instead he strokes his fingers across your outer lips, spreading you open for him. You stop your movements on his dick in response, your face burning with heat. “T-this is so—are you just gonna stare at it all night!?”

“Lower your hips more,” he says, and you do so, and you moan out loud at the first swipe of his tongue against your pussy, slow and wet. You take his shaft in your mouth again, reaching to fondle his balls as he circles his tongue over your clit.

Johnny slowly rocks his hips up, letting you find a good rhythm as you suck his dick. You are wet and warm and perfect on his tongue, and he presses your body closer so he can taste more of what you have to offer. He quickly adds his middle and index finger into the mix, searching the depths of your pussy, his cock twitching in your mouth whenever you whine or push your hips into his face just right.

It becomes a little harder to focus on pleasuring you as he nears his end, with your lips around his shaft so tight and wet and your hands squeezing him in a firm grip. “I’m gonna come,” he mumbles against your thigh, his mouth slick with your essence. That motivates you to keep working him over until his stomach tenses and his cum spurts across your tongue, thick ropes of it painting your mouth white. Some of it drips onto your hands, and you lick this up, too.

Johnny trembles and groans from the aftershocks of his orgasm, but he pulls your hips closer and continues eating you out and pushing his fingers into you until you shout and grind against his mouth, trying to ride the wave of ecstasy without tipping over. Even after you’ve already come, he sucks your clit so fiercely that you have to pinch his thigh and beg him to let up. He only lets you go after he’s pulled another gush of wetness out of you.

You assume Johnny would be in need of a break, but instead he slides you off of him and hurriedly pulls your panties down, his dick still stiff. He runs a hand across your chest and up to your neck, admiring the way the lingerie looks against your skin before undoing your bra. He wraps his lips around your nipple, teasing it into a hard peak.

“You’re still hard,” you say, though it’s more of a statement than a question, and you’re not really sure whether you’re talking to him or yourself.

“You make me this way.” He cups your other breast and lightly pinches your nipple as he says this, and for the first time tonight you feel truly flustered at how he looks at you as he makes that claim. “Do you have any condoms?”

“...The nightstand.” You watch as he rolls over to find a condom and tears it open, sliding the rubber onto his dick. He settles himself between your legs, his tip bumping into your entrance and making you sigh at the pleasure running through you.

“Are you ready?” he asks, grasping your hip with one hand and his length with the other. You nod, and he carefully sinks himself into your heat, a moan falling from his lips at how incredible you feel around him. How many times has he imagined this? The fantasies never quite measure up to the real thing.

A dozen emotions run through him—satisfaction at finally being inside you, a sense of affection that he’s trying not to think too deeply about, and genuine amazement at how you can look so pretty under him, shining with sweat and stuffed with his dick. For a split second he wonders if you two should really be doing this, about what your friendship will look like on the other side of this, but he decides not to dwell on it further when you grip his ass and push him deeper into you. “You’re really greedy,” he says half-jokingly as he pulls out and thrusts back into you.

“Then fill me up so I won’t be, Johnny.” You hold his face and close the distance between your mouths.

The room is thick with the sounds of each other’s moans and the slap of skin against skin. Johnny’s mouth hardly leaves your body, his tongue sliding across your neck and collarbones and back down to your breasts again. You hold onto him tightly as you match his thrusts, your bodies moving together at an even pace.

He grinds his hips into you so he can watch and feel you shudder as he does so, captivated at how he can get your body to react to him. He dips his head so he can kiss you again, like there aren’t enough kisses in the world for him to be truly satisfied, and you let him fuck you with his mouth and his dick as you draw your nails across his back.

Each time he circles his hips it stimulates your clit and brings you closer to orgasm, and he adds his fingers to the mix to speed along your release, wanting to experience you gushing and tightening around him. He is so intoxicated from the reality of what’s happening that the connection between his mind and mouth is becoming fuzzier, and he’s almost afraid of what he’ll say if he takes his lips away from you now.

Johnny’s pleasuring so many different parts of your body that it makes you unable to hold on any longer, and you come with your toes curling and back arching, fucking yourself onto his length with the last remnants of energy you have. You eventually slump against the bed, still reeling as he keeps stroking into you in search of his own end.

It comes soon after when you pull him by the nape of his neck and nibble and suck your way up to his ear, tugging on his piercing and whispering about how you want him to come for you. His pace becomes more erratic as he digs into you and feels his balls drawing up with his impending orgasm.

“I love...l-love your pussy,” he gasps into your neck. He is dangerously close to spilling his real emotions, but he cleans it up at the last second, unsure if this is just a platonic fuck to you or if you’d want more. He doesn’t want to ruin what you have by trying to find out, and the electricity traveling up his spine is rendering him too distracted to think over it anyway.

You continue clinging to him as Johnny bucks into you and empties his load into the condom, and you coax along his climax by squeezing your walls around him. He eventually pulls away after regaining his strength, panting and oversensitive from your actions.

“You like me,” is the first thing you say.

There’s no point in denying it now, and he can only sigh and scratch his head. “...Yeah. Actually, I’ve kinda liked you for years, so I think it’s safe to say it counts as ‘love’ now.”

You sit up, and Johnny distracts himself with tying the condom off and throwing it away, too nervous to sit still for your reaction. “But, I understand if you don’t feel the same way, I mean we’ve just been friends this whole time anyway, we can just—”

You bring your hands to Johnny’s face and cup his cheeks. “Sometimes you are really oblivious…” You lean closer to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “How could I not love you? You’re the most important person in my life.”

He pauses as if he doesn’t have a clue what you just said, then his eyes widen. You laugh at his comical expression. “You’re sure? Like, this wasn’t just a pity fuck because you felt sorry for me or something—”

“Never that.” And then you kiss him again, your lips lingering together for longer this time as his body relaxes into yours.

#johnny smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #ambw smut #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #ambw scenarios #ambw fic #ambw imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic #nct johnny

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ariadnasdiary · 3 years

Note

Part 2 of the spam HERE WE GOOOO 💖💤🛍️💜🌸 (JFGHDFKJGH de verdad que lo siento pero es que necesito más qaq)

*Mun Ari: Has anyone ever told you are an angel sent from heaven? If not, well now I’ll tell you… you are <3

From this ask set~

💖 Has your OC ever been in love, be it romantic or platonic or otherwise? Who with and did they ever express their feelings or keep it private? How long did these feelings persist / do they still feel this way?

Ariadna: *blushes* Oh dear! *looks in both ways cautiously* I was once in love with a boy from my school called Isaac. I fell in love in my last year of junior high school. We had various classes together and he was nice with me. Many friends and classmates told me he treated me differently, in a good way, unlike how he was with the rest. As he was rather reserved and I thought I had a chance with him, but I never actually told him how I felt for him. I didn’t dare for many reasons: I’ve always been very shy and because I thought he was already in love with someone else. I never confirmed he was in love with that girl, but then I changed schools and I lost track of him. Now, here I am~ I met Kino and I’m in love with him now!

💤 What was your OC like as a baby, a child and as a teen? (if your OC is a teen or a child, what will they be like as an adult?). How have they changed since then? What lessons have they learned and what things about their youth do they miss the most? Do they have any general regrets?

(*Mun Ari: As a baby Ari was a very cute and cheerful baby! She never liked using the pacifier and she never crawled ^^’. As a child she was cheerful, playfull, friendly, easygoing, funny, extroverted and kind to mention some (before the bullying that is ;-;). After her experience with the bullying she became more reserved, introverted, insecure and shy. However, we know Ari and you can see many aspects remain as they are part of her personality! As an adult, Ari grew up to be kind, understanding, ambivert, wise, loving and funny. She grew up to be more comfortable with herself and confident too :D).

*(Ari as a baby) (Ari as a child)*

Ariadna: Hmm… to be honest I do miss how optimistic and extrovert I used to be as a child. Also, I had a great self esteem and I lost that as I grew up which is a shame really since it’s a struggle I need to work on. But thanks to bullying I learnt to be more cautious and observant with the people I surround myself with. Not everyone will approach you with good intentions. Some may take advantage of you or even try to hurt you, so you need to be careful who you make friends with. I’m in the process to heal and recover my self esteem and to love myself… little by little one day I’ll make it!

🛍️ Function or Aesthetic? Skirts or Pants? Heels or Flats?

Ariadna: Hmmm I believe there should be a balance between function and aesthetic. Although function sometimes is better, sometimes the function of something aesthetic is to make you feel an emotion… Does that make sense? Like when you buy something you can get it depending on how useful or necessary it is in your daily life, but you can also buy something just because it is pretty and that’s ok~! Example: buying a shirt and buying a cute vase for decoration.

Ariadna: Both! I like pants since they are comfy and practical, but also stylish and pretty! But also skirts are girly, cute and lovely! They make me feel girly and femenine! Perfect for going out on a date!

Ariadna: Ahh! Both too! I use mainly flats since they are comfortable and cute! But heels are femenine and chic! Also pretty much helpful to make me look taller! Also… they make me feel sexy and chic *blushes*. D-Depends the occasion is what I’ll wear! ^^'

💜 Music or Silence? Swords or Spells? Cities or Nature?

Ariadna: Both… *giggles* I’m sorry I keep saying “both”, but is the truth. Music feeds the soul and heart! It improves my mood and I love dancing and singing. Music can make you feel at ease, happy, sad, inspiration and many things more! However, silence is also enjoyable on its own too! Silence help you concentrate, think and relax. You need silence to study and to have a good night sleep! So yeah, depends the situation but I mostly have music.

Ariadna: Hmm… that’s strange. I’ll say spells since some of them can snatch/disappear/melt swords from their owner and may be quicker. Also some can be used from a certain distance and you look cool! Like witches, wizards or fairies!

Ariadna: Both again! *laughs* I’m a city girl and life in cities is exciting! So many things to do and see! Always something new to experience or discover! Everything is accessible and somehow easier. Although the rhythm can be exhausting and stressful from time to time and nature can help a LOT. When I feel stressed I go to the park as is the closest I have to nature and I can feel myself relaxing. Once in a while I also like to visit some little villages or cities nearby to have a change of scenery and air and it’s incredibly helpful! It's like charging your battery once more!

🌸 What does your OC’s voice sound like? Their laugh? Are they good at singing? Do they have an accent?

*Mun Ari: For you… I’m willing to record how Ari would sound like if you like~

Ariadna: I think I have an average voice. Sometimes people mention I have a soft and cute voice, but how can they know a voice is cute? Is that possible? *giggles*. As japanese isn’t my first language, I wouldn’t be surprised I was told I have an accent. Kino sometimes teases me about my accent or my pronunciation of certain words. But it is hard translating what I think in Spanish into japanese! I sometimes make mistakes and I can’t help but blush!

Ariadna: My laugh? I think it is normal? Although Naomi sometimes mentions I have an adorable and childish laugh. But when I truly laugh at something really funny I guess it is a more contagious type of laugh since it is just funny, but all laughs are contagious in one way or another!

Ariadna: Hmm… singing? W-Well, I like to think I sing decently. I like to hum and sing for myself and I like my voice, but I wouldn’t dare singing in public! I think it is average and nothing special, but once in a while Kino would say it is enjoyable or at least he’ll say it is fine. And so far I haven’t hurt someone’s ears so… yeah I think dencet is the best word *giggles*.

#ariadnasdiary #ariadna koizumi martínez #ariadnaxkino #ari speaks #ask #jumbo ask game #thank you for asking <3 #mun ari speaks #diabolik lovers oc #diabolik lovers latino

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melodyalanaroster · 3 years

Photo

What Do I Do?

Disclaimer: This is a sequel to Study Session.

Alana opened the door to the Gym and immediately zeroed in on the punching bags. Nathaniel looked at her and smiled. “That was quick.” She set her bag down, walked over to him and hugged him. Nathaniel looked concerned. “What’s wrong?” Alana looked around. “You have the Gym to yourself today?” Nathaniel nodded. “Kim is taking a personal day, so she lent me the key again.” “Good. Because I don’t want any eavesdroppers. I’m still not in a position for outsiders to see me weak.” “Alana, what happened?”

Alana proceeded to tell Nathaniel what had happened with Morgan, and everything that Morgan had told her. Nathaniel looked shocked at the news of what had happened with Rosalaya. Alana looked down. “I was so hell bent on being mad at them for abandoning us. For trying to turn me against you when I got back. For trying to get me to do stuff that I wasn’t comfortable doing. For making everything about them and refusing to listen to me. Now… Now, I just feel selfish.” “There is nothing wrong with you being selfish. You know that, right?” Nathaniel cooed as he held her. “Everyone keeps telling me that, but then, why do I feel guilty for not helping them?” Alana buried her face in his chest. “Because you have always been the helpful type. You always put others first and when you do take time for what you want, you feel guilty because you’re not helping someone else. And now, you’re in a position where you’re being told by all the people you believe have power in your life to take charge and be selfish. The thing is, now, not only is your helpful nature making you feel guilty, but certain people who are so used to you always being there are now having to deal with the fact that you are now only providing your help to those who are there for you.” Alana looked at Nathaniel, shocked. “I forgave Amber! I forgave her and am there for her… Why can’t I do the same for Alexy and Rosalaya?” She asked. “Love, you’ve already answered that question for yourself. Amber came to you, proved to you that she’s changed and grown up and then she apologized for her juvenile actions. Rosalaya and Alexy have committed acts that you cannot forgive. What makes things worse is that, while Leigh has left you alone on the subject, Alexy’s boyfriend has now called you into question.” Nathaniel explained.

Alana sat down on a bench and sighed. “This was not how my final year of college was supposed to be… I was supposed to come back to town, get back with you, finish college, then have us start our real adventure. My reputation is supposed to be so damn fearsome that no one would dare question me or my motives! For fucks’ sake! I spent the better part of the last five years becoming one of the most deadly people on the planet! I come home and Alexy and Rosa just expected me to be the same, sweet, little Alana!” She cried. Nathaniel sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I can sympathize with them on that… When I first saw you in that Alley with those guys, I couldn’t comprehend that you, you, had become a monster of the Black Tower… That they were afraid of you… And that the fear and respect you command was rightfully earned. I didn’t want to believe it. How could I? The kind, caring, sweet, woman I fell in love with ultimately embracing her dark side and becoming a sadistic, cruel, beast that the monsters of this world fear? It was unheard of.” he explained. “Everyone has a dark side. You know that.” Alana commented. “Still. It was definitely more of a shock to see your transformation. You left to care for your mother, then you went off the grid, then you came back as this. Love, I’m not justifying their actions, but I can see why they can’t wrap their heads around it.” Nathaniel had a point. She hadn’t been as honest with Alex and Rosa as she had been with him, Amber and even Castiel. However, she had stuck with her convictions and decided that they weren’t worth the truth. “I get that it’s a shock for everyone who knew me from before to see that… I never really showed you guys how much I love those cool, long coat wearing, boot stomping, weapon wielding, badasses like in Aeon Flux, Resident Evil and Underworld.” Alana sighed. “No, I knew how much you love them… You showed everyone that by dressing up as Black Widow at that Marvel Exhibition in High School… It just never occurred to me that you would actually turn into one of them.” Nathaniel grinned. “My transformation didn’t shock Viktor and Rini… Then again, they ARE my best friends and have known me the longest….” She commented. “Did they expect it?” Nathaniel asked. “No, but it was a bit easier for them to accept.” She replied. He kissed her forehead. “I can probably guarantee that they had trouble accepting it. They probably talked to your family and had a better support system than the rest of us.”

After a few minutes of Nathaniel holding her, Alana sighed. “I still don’t want to forgive them.” “You don’t have to. Alana, you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do. You told me that Armin has even stopped trying to get you to talk to his brother, so the fact that Alexy’s boyfriend has done this only proves his naivety.” He cooed. “I’m still upset…. They claimed to be my best friends, and yet they did all this, all while my ACTUAL best friends are genuinely helpful. The only problems that I have with Viktor and Severina are their fathers, and Viktor’s jealousy towards you.” She stated. “Why do you hate their fathers? And why, after all this time, is Viktor still jealous of me?” He asked. Alana went on to explain the events pertaining to the Chevalier incident, her suspicions that Achille Mekina had something to do with inciting it and the fact that Viktor still loves her, despite knowing full well that he will never be with her again. Nathaniel sat there, shocked. “He really waved a gun at you?!” He blurted out, angrily. “Calm down. He didn’t shoot…. As it is, I’m starting to wonder if his mentality was caused my another factor…” She pondered. “What do you mean?” He asked. “It’s a lot of bullshit… Achille has been acting like more of an entitled asshole lately. Viktor and Edgard have been developing a sickness that is quite odd… So, whenever I’ve been visiting Rini, I’ve been investigating her father.” She explained. “You think he’s behind this?” Nathaniel asked. “I think it’s a good possibility.” She replied. “Are you gonna get the organization involved?” He asked. She shook her head. “Only for resources and if I need to wield my power. Other than that, Severina, Verity, Viktor and Edgard will have to deal with him in their own way.” She sighed. “You’re really not going to handle it for them?” He raised an eyebrow. “I want to. Trust me, I do. But you and I both know that if I do everything for them, they won’t learn to take care of themselves. Not to mention how they’ll thank me for doing it, then give me those big “sad eyes” and tell me how I need to save myself and stop saving the world. It’s best to just do as much as I can while I allow myself to rest on that front….” She explained.

After several more minutes of talking, Nathaniel changed into his normal clothes. “Are you making progress with your situation?” Alana asked. “Its slow, but the officer I’m working with is doing everything he can to help me.” He replied. “I hope you know, I’ve already put my backup plan in to place. The Red Death has approved of it, and should anything happen to you, we will take over your situation.” She asserted. He looked at her shocked. “Already?” He asked. “Yes. It wasn’t that hard. It was simply a contingency that could be added to Protocol 216.” She stated. “Are you ever going to tell me what Protocol 216 is?” He asked. “Only after its been implemented. Until then, it’s best if you just know that it involves you, and gives you access to the Black Tower.” She explained. “Alana, why can’t I know now?” He asked. “Because you’re still involved with that cartel. Technically speaking, you’re a loose end. You may be important to me, which makes you important to the organization, but, if the cartel finds out the gravity of that fact before we’re ready for them to know, then it will make things more complicated for all of us… So, its best to wait until you’ve either gotten yourself out of it, or until we take over.” She admitted. “Oh.” He looked down. “Look, love, there are a lot of things that its best if you don’t know for now. As it is, you already have sensitive information inside your head.” She added. “Are you really threatened by them?” Nathaniel asked. “Not really. But, I have to think of every possibility of what could happen. One of those possibilities is that they could use you to get to me. We don’t need that happening.” She replied. Nathaniel looked down, a wave of shame crossing his face. “So, I’m putting you at risk.” He muttered. Alana shook her head. “Don’t think of it like that. There are plenty of things put into place for what happens if people come after me. They typically don’t survive long…” She assured. “Really?” He asked. “You think I got to where I am without making a few enemies? A bunch of people have tried to kill me. They were swiftly dealt with.” She explained.

About an hour of discussion and explanation later, they decided to go out to eat. As they waited for their food, Alana couldn’t help but think about what was going on with Alexy and Rosalaya. Her brain refused to truly leave the matter alone. It was eating away at her. “Nath, I can’t get over it. They were supposed to be my friends… Yet, they abandon me, pour drinks down my throat, negate Lysander and Armin, try to coerce me to be with that waiter from the Cozy Bear, leave you without a support system, and try to turn me against you.” She rambled. “Alana, it is okay if you don’t want to be their friend anymore. The only ones who will judge you will be them, and clearly Alexy’s boyfriend.” Nathaniel took her hand and held it, gently as he spoke. She looked at him and thought for a bit. She knew that he knew what was going through her head… The same thing that she had talked to him at the gym about. She thought to what her other friends had said about the situation. “What cunts! Kick those sad little bitches to the curb! You know who your real friends are!” Derek had boomed. “After all they’ve done and refused to do? Yeah, they’re not your friends.” Lyra had remarked. “Don’t give them the time of day, Mels. They’re not worth it.” Severina had huffed. “They don’t deserve you.” Viktor had shot. Armin was disappointed but not surprised when she had told him of his brother’s conduct. “If you really feel like it’s detrimental that you remain friends with him, then maybe you should cut ties. I can’t deny that they abandoned you.” He had said. Of course, Priya wanted her to give them another chance, and was fully intent on scolding her, until Castiel stopped it. “Do you really expect her forgive them? Do you not remember her telling us that they weren’t talking to her when she was in Toronto? Do you not remember how she was asking us what she did wrong?” He had asked Priya. “I remember. But…” Priya had begun. “No “buts” Priya. This is her choice. If she doesn’t want to forgive them, then we shouldn’t judge her for it.” He had cut her off. Alana knew she was still upset with Castiel for what he had done in his apartment, but she was grateful that he was defending her. Even her mother and sister were disgusted. “If they’re not worth your time, then they’re not worth ours. I hated how Alexy wouldn’t leave Ken’s ass alone anyway.” Sam had remarked. Most everyone she loved and cared about were all saying the same thing. She knew they were right, and that this was her choice. No matter how it made her feel in the short term, she knew it would make her feel better in the long run. Her mind then turned to what had happened at the beach. She remembered the fury she felt as she slapped Rosalaya. The hatred she felt in that moment. It all came rushing back to her in a wave of resentment. Alana looked up at Nathaniel and noticed the plates of food in front of them. “Nath! I’m so sorry!” she blurted out. “It’s fine. It’s a good thing I know what you like… The waitress was worried when I ordered for you.” He smiled. “I love you.” She beamed.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Nathaniel asked as they got up from the table, and dumped their trash. “Yes please, but keep a safe distance. I don’t want them pulling you into something that they should know is my choice.” She replied. “Okay.” He smiled. As they walked towards Leigh’s shop, she explained what she was so focused on at the restaurant. Nathaniel clenched his fists when Castiel’s name came up, but she reassured him that she was still mad at him for what he had been pulling, although, she was happy for his defense. “Priya, always so self righteous.” He commented. “It’s okay. She’s easy to handle.” She sighed. He laughed when she brought up what her family had said. “I knew Sam didn’t like what Alexy was pulling, but I didn’t know she hated it to this extent!” he chuckled. “Yeah, even mom is upset with them.” She replied. When they got to Leigh’s shop, the sign was turned to “CLOSED” and they noticed that Leigh, Rosalaya, Alexy, Morgan and Rayan were talking casually. “Was not expecting this level of audience.” Alana muttered. “You can do this.” Nathaniel whispered in her ear.

“I’m sorry, but the shop is closed.” Leigh called as the door opened. “I’d say I’m sorry for barging in, Leigh, but that would be a lie. This is important and needs to be taken care of immediately.” Alana announced as she walked up to them. Nathaniel leaned against the doorway. Morgan looked at her and smiled, hopefully. “You might wanna go ahead and wipe that smile off of your face.” She shot at him. “Alana? What’s the meaning of this?” Rayan asked. “I see you’ve had time to think about what we discussed.” Morgan commented. Alexy and Rosalaya looked at her, a flicker of hope flashing over them. Alana stood firm in a position facing Alexy and Rosalaya. She looked at them solemnly. “What I am about to begin saying is a monologue, not a dialogue. So, no one will speak until I am done. Is that clear?” She started. “But, Alana…” Alexy began. “I SAID, IS THAT CLEAR?!” Her voice boomed. “Crystal.” Rosalaya began to shake. Alexy nodded. “I was not expecting a lecture and pleas for me to forgive you from Morgan. Perhaps my perception has deteriorated a bit since my return. I thought that, when he asked me to study, the conversation would be a lot more simplistic. Go figure, someone who is connected to you that actually asks for my attention wants me to do something for you. At least Armin and Leigh have gotten the hints. Then again, they know the biggest reasons why you two are recipients of my ire. They may not like it, but they understand it. Hell, even Lysander understands it. The past few months, I’ve wracked my brain over this situation. I begged and pleaded for your attention when mom and I were in Toronto. I contacted Leigh and Armin, asking them what I did wrong to make you two stop talking to me and they came up empty handed. I called, texted, tried to video chat, and got nothing. I even asked Lysander, Castiel, and Priya and they came up short. I had just lost Sylvester, I was in a constant state of fear of losing my mom, I had pressure from mom’s doctors and Carol, and I was alone in a foreign country half way around the world. Yes, I had everyone else, but I wanted to talk to you two. And what did you do? You abandoned me. You know? At least Castiel did his damnedest to try to keep up with me when mom had to relay information between the rest of the world and me. At least Lysander knew I still cared when I had the family get flowers and food to his and Leigh’s parents’ funeral. Sure, I couldn’t be there, but I did my best to make sure they knew I was there for them in some way. What did you two do? Essentially, you acted as if I had already died and you forgot about me… That is, until I returned. When it was made known that I was coming back here, you two popped up and acted like nothing had changed… Despite everything having changed. I get home and you two started pouring drinks down my throat, trying to set me up with Hyun, wanted me to get in on your crazy schemes and let me know that you completely disregarded the ONE THING that I had asked you to do when I first left! You not only abandoned me, you turned your backs on Nathaniel! Then you had the AUDACITY to try to turn me against him! You told me “he’s dangerous”, and to not worry about him. Even AFTER I told you that he’s a primary reason why I even came back in the first place! I made it very clear that I am one of the most dangerous things in this world, and you two still treated me like I’m some frail little princess. I KNOW what Nathaniel is a part of! And trust me, it wouldn’t take much for me to extinguish it! Literally, just a handful of orders! I thought I was done with this decision when I bitch slapped Rosalaya at the beach… But, apparently not. Between Morgan judging me and trying to guilt trip me into reconciling with you two, and my own brain trying to get to me, it’s eaten me alive. However, every time I talk to someone about it, they all say the same thing… That I don’t have to be friends with you two. Almost everyone else I care about agrees that you’ve been shit excuses for friends and that what you’ve done shouldn’t be forgiven. And it’s been solidified in my head and heart that I agree with that. You don’t deserve my forgiveness, and you sure as hell don’t deserve my friendship. After this, there will be no more confusion. You two are not my friends anymore.” Alana spoke with absolute conviction.

Alexy, Rosalaya, and Morgan looked at Alana, shocked. Rayan looked a bit surprised and Leigh looked disappointed but not surprised. “Alana! We’re supposed to be friends!” Alexy bleated. Anger flashed over Alana’s face. “That’s right! We’re SUPPOSED to be friends! But, when I was doing everything in my power to reach out when I was at my weakest points, you two turned your backs on me! When I was crying out and trying to get to you, you ignored me! When I came home, you rejected my requests and treated me like a pawn! THAT IS NOT HOW FRIENDS ACT!” She boomed. “But Alana we…” Rosalaya started. Alana turned to Rosalaya. “Don’t get me started on YOU! You go around acting like you’re everyone’s “mommy” all the time, telling them what to do with their lives, yet the only thing you’ve ever truly done to get what you have is be with Leigh all this time… And guess what? Did you forget that, not long after I enrolled in Sweet Amoris, you begged me to help you with him because you two were on the rocks? Yes, I feel sorry for the reason why you were in the hospital recently. I would only wish that on someone as a mercy for the innocent child who shouldn’t have to put up with shit parents. But that’s no excuse for how you’ve acted! You know what I’ve done to get everything I have? I’ve bled, sweated, cried, nearly died multiple times and have worked extremely hard. I have put in the effort! Hell, I’m still putting in the effort to get what I want! I train, go to therapy, work on documents and my “peacetime job”, try to hang out with friends, work on my connections, go to school, and give Nathaniel my attention. I MAKE AN EFFORT! Hell, I even make sure to keep in contact with Lysander and Armin! Which is more than what either of you do!” Alana cut Rosalaya off. “Then why did you ask me about Lysander when you got back?” Rosalaya asked. “We all know he’d lose his own head if it wasn’t attached. He hadn’t responded to my letters and texts in a couple of weeks and I figured that, since you’re gonna be his sister-in-law, you’d know something. But, no! You only ever told me to “forget about him”! Wow, you must REALLY love Leigh if you’re willing to disregard his little brother like that! The guy got into a car accident, got temporary amnesia, lost his parents, and took over his family’s farm and you just go out and tell people to forget about him? Then again, that’s how you are. You claim to be this “kind, sensible, compassionate, woman”, but in all actuality, you’re none of those things… You act that way to the outside world, but its easy to tell that you’re only, truly, like that to Leigh. What makes this even sadder is that, when I first knew you, you really were a “kind, sensible, compassionate, woman”. You were more mature than me at the time. You really were the “mom” of the group. But, between then and now, something has turned off. You’re more preachy, more hypocritical, more insufferable.” She then turned to Morgan. “You say that I’m a “good person”, but what you haven’t really gotten through your thick skull is that even good people have their limits. Please, take what I told you in your dorm to heart.” She sighed.

As she began to walk away, both Alexy and Rosalaya stepped forward. “Alana, please don’t do this.” Alexy’s voice cracked. “Please.” Rosalaya pleaded as she reached for Alana’s hand. “I judged people guilty and watched Derek execute them for much greater crimes who have pleaded for forgiveness much more convincingly than you. They offered me money, power, and other items in an effort to save their own skin. I have watched them bleed, sweat and cry as they even began to ask their gods for forgiveness and to be spared. Your lives may not be on the line, but you are still not begging me to forgive you in any way that sounds like you’re remotely sorry for what you’ve done. You show no remorse. And that makes this much easier… I will never forgive you. I will never be your friend again. Your existence in my life these past few months is a stain that only time will wash out.” Alana jerked away and looked at them, angrily. Alexy and Rosalaya stood back, their hands still slightly reaching out. Alana turned away and walked towards the door. “Let’s go Nathaniel, we’re done here.”

As the shop doors closed behind them, Alana felt a wave of relief wash over her. “You really shouldn’t have done that.” her subconscious tried to tell her. She looked at Nathaniel. “I did the right thing.” She stated. “How do you feel?” He asked. “Do you remember how, when I found you on the stairs at the beach, I said that I had performed “small surgery”? Well, this feels like I just cut out two tumors out of me. And, honestly, even though part of my subconscious is upset that I did that, I feel like a massive weight has been lifted off of me.” She explained. “I never thought I’d see the day where you’d do this.” He sighed. She looked at him and sighed. “There’s a lot of things I’ve done and am doing that you never thought you’d see. But here’s the thing… For years, everyone has made expectations for what I should do, how I should act, and who I keep in contact with… At this point, I’m ready to throw those expectations out the window. I need to. Not doing so will be detrimental to me. I need to start doing what I want, when I want, and with who I want. While I have been working towards that for nearly a year now, I’m not to where I need to be. Formally cutting ties with Alexy and Rosalaya is a big step in the right direction.”

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I was actually quite torn about writing this one... I was torn simply between having her go to the Gym and confide in Nathaniel or go to the Break Room and having her confide in Rayan. But, as Nathaniel is one of the only people outside the Tower that she is the most open with, I thought it would be best to have her talk to her one true love.

This also closes the door that is opened in Study Session. I was going to give Alexy and Rosalaya a chance to reenter Alana’s life, but then I decided that it would be better for her to completely shut that down.

Timeline wise, I’ve decided that this takes place in between Episode 10 and Episode 14. I know, this is a lot of dialogue and little actual action.... But, I had a lot to cover here.

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unseeliefaelass · 3 years

Text

Darksiders: Origins

Chapter 2: A little Faith

Ale's task turned out to be simple enough. Tending to the garden of pods as one would for any plant life. Llildan's machine made watering them, and giving other nutrients far faster. Ale still had to collect the water, nutrients, extra soil, and more of course. Luckily it didn't matter to her in the end. What did matter to her, was watching her Father get increasingly uncomfortable and angry around Lilith. Llildan would shut down any attempts on him, but was also trying his best to keep her away from Ale as well. Even going as far as to tell Ale not to appear too useful during her work. Llildan for his part made himself look inconvenient. Which was easy when he could program the technology to look extremely complicated, while in reality he knew his tech no matter how it seemed. Aside from the nuisance Lilith was proving to be, Ale had her own watchful eyes. Absalom would occasionally look over her shoulder in minor curiosity. A bit skeptical as to how all this gardening was meant to get what Lilith wanted. Aside from gardening however, Ale had to place the embryos in the pods herself. Once done she also had to watch and record their progress. From growth rate, to any abilities that may manifest. Course Absalom didn't seem to be around for those tasks. Ale would soon get her chance to prove herself however. One day she came across a pod suffering from a rot problem. Upon realizing it had gone as far as inside the pod with the now infant, she knew they had to be examined outside of it.

Absalom was nervous about it though, "Is this truly necessary?"

"We have little choice I'm afraid. I have to be sure the rot hasn't reached the little one. It's already on the inside of the pod. So it's already too close for comfort."

"Are you sure it's rot though? I've seen it before on a few dead demons in my Mother's home. They didn't look this way while rotting."

Ale tilted her head a small bit with a warm smile, "Yes I suppose rotting plantlife would look strange. Especially to one who's only seen it on people. Plants and people don't exactly rot the same way, if anything plants wither faster. Unless it's something truly massive, like a tree for instance. A dead tree can stand tall for several more years before its trunk rots enough to topple over. The pods are made up of massive leaves, thus they will rot in a similar fashion. Have you seen rotted leaves before?"

Absalom shrugged, "Cannot say I have, no."

Ale then picked a single small leaf from another pod. And after reassuring Absalom no harm would be done to the other pod at all over one leaf, held it up for him to see. Absalom watched almost eagerly as Ale demonstrated how leaves rotted using magic to achieve the effect at a faster rate.

Ale for her part ensured she explained each step, "Leaves you see, fall once Autumn arrives. As it is the plants' ways of preparing for Winter. They start off the same color of green as always, and they are green due to cells inside them that are colored green and thus green light passes through it for our eyes to pick up on."

"The leaf is simply green to you?" Absalom asked confused.

"Yes, it is. Why?"

"My eyes see many shades of green in that leaf. I don't know how to explain it, but I've always been able to see more colors than anyone else. Mother was the first to notice and pointed it out to me when she did."

Ale's eyes widened, "Really? Hmm, I think there's a term for it. I don't recall it, but if you inform my Father he could tell you more, no doubt. Shall I continue on? Green is but the first color of leaves in this cycle."

"Yes of course, pardon my interruption."

"No need to worry, I can appreciate a curious mind. Asking questions after all is how we learn isn't it?" Ale replied with another smile.

"A...fair point, a-actually."

Ale nodded before continuing the explanation, "Now watch closely for this next part. Once the leaf hits the ground, decomposition begins. As the cells in the leaf all die, the color changes, and that next color comes after green fades completely without the cells to give that color. Sometimes it becomes yellow, sometimes orange. That part depends on the plant itself, and the natural colors of their leaves."

"So yellow and orange are the natural colors of leaves? The cells in them just hide them?" Absalom inquires extremely confused.

"They do, so when the cells die, the true colors are free to show themselves. The next color is red; which I don't have much to say on, beyond that it is red, and the second to last color in the cycle."

Absalom squints a bit at this, "Well again, I see more shades of each color. What looks like it's a single color to you, looks covered in many different shades of it for me. If anything, it's like staring at many gemstones in a chest."

"Hmm, well you're pretty insightful for a warrior. Then again you'd think I'd know not to judge them. Given my Mother was one herself." Ale revealed.

"Really? What was she like?"

Ale raised her hand gently, "Unfortunately I was very young when she died. Thus my memories are few, especially of her battles. As I wasn't allowed on them at that age. Though again, my Father would know more. That subject pains him deeply however, it's why he's become what he is now. Wouldn't recommend asking him about her."

"Shame, I actually wouldn't mind hearing of her. Given how you turned out..uh no offense."

"None taken. Ready for the last color? Or shades I guess?"

"I am."

Ale then looked to the leaf a final time as it turned dark brown. The luster and bravado of the previous colors being replaced with a dryness Absalom definitely recognized as Ale spoke, "This is what a dead leaf looks like. With that the cycle completes itself, and the trees and other plants will regrow and replace their lost leaves come Spring."

Absalom couldn't help feeling mildly disturbed at the leaf disintegrating once she finished. Though he'd seen much worse in Lilith's home to be sure. Cautiously he asked Ale, "Is that what's happening to the pod as well?"

"Yes, hence why I must get the infant out." Ale informed him.

Absalom glanced at the pod, and indeed saw the same dull brown shades on it's side. He then looked inside, and saw much the same. Course what he didn't mention, was that he could see the heat coming off of it as well. Due to the side of the pod rotting away slowly. He could see it because his eyes also had infrared vision. But this part was more random, as he was the first of Lilith's 'children' after all. There was bound to be some kinks, like Absalom not having perfect control of what vision he viewed the world in yet. Realizing what was happening regardless, he hurried off to find Lilith and tell her what had to be done. Ale thusly waited patiently for them both to arrive, despite her ever growing concerns with each passing moment. Lilith wasn't entirely keen on the idea despite Absalom telling her what they needed to do.

She felt she knew best, and thus went to prove as much, "You have magic specific to nature do you not?"

"I do, but it's nothing that can reverse rot. I'll need to call in a friend for that. Regardless, this child must be taken outside the pod. For their own safety.", Ale insisted.

"What of your Father? Does he not have the technology to examine the infant whilst it stays inside?"

Ale only shook her head, "He cannot, the pod is highly resistant to x-rays. Even if one x-ray won't hurt anyone, the pod doesn't notice that. All it knows is harmful rays are directed at its charge, thus it will prevent the x-rays from looking through it. I cannot control whether they do this or not either."

Lilith growled a slight bit in her growing anger before finally telling Ale in a sudden, dangerous sounding calm, "Very well, if we TRULY must do this, then you may. But know this little rabbit..if anything goes wrong afterward, it will be on your head."

With that Lilith finally backed off, but asked Absalom to watch her closely. He did so keenly as Ale carefully allowed the pod to open up. Absalom felt a twinge of fear at seeing the grey skinned infant within. Ale however carefully lifted the infant from the pod, wrapping it within a swaddle for the time being. Ale then handed it off to Absalom to watch over as she used her communication crystal to call up that friend. The clear crystal glowed gently and pulsated before the glow steadied out. Once it did, Absalom heard another female voice.

"Hello Ale."

Ale smiled at the reply, "Hello Aspen, so have you been told by my clan...?"

"I was yes, and I do not like it one bit. I hope you know what you're doing Ale. That woman is FAR from trustworthy."

Ale glanced at Absalom nervously before telling Aspen, "I know your opinions but keep them in for now. I'm being watched right now. I just need your help with something. Even just teaching me a spell will do."

Both beings heard her sigh deeply before she inquired as gently as she could muster, "What is it then Ale?"

"One of the pods I'm tending to has a rot problem. I need your advice on how to fix it completely."

Aspen thought to herself for a moment before saying, "I can send you moonfruit seeds. These can reverse rot when grown over decayed or decaying plants. And given the nature of your task, it should be beneficial to each of the...'children'. I do this for your sake Ale, just please...be mindful around Lilith. I mean it."

"Of course Aspen, and thank you so much. I'll keep in touch if it helps ease you."

"It very well may, but don't do so in front of her. That would likely...prove regrettable to us both. Farewell my friend."

"Good day Aspen."

Ale recieved the seeds within minutes of the call's end. From there she planted each one and as Aspen promised they reversed the rot. Ale then took the time to examine the little infant. Both her and Absalom share a sigh of relief as the infant showed life. Giving Ale the peace of mind to return the infant back into the pod.

Absalom then left to inform Lilith of the resolution, and told Ale, "You have my thanks, but be more vigilant. This could've been worse."

"Believe me I know, but for now let's be glad he was safe in the end. And that they will all be safe from potential future rot."

"He?"

"Yes, he. I noticed the infant was male during my examination.", Ale explained simply.

Absalom nodded at this before going to Lilith. She was pleased to know things were still going fine, "Excellent. What of the infant?"

"As I said Mother, he is well. He is grey skinned now, but very much healthy from what Ale stated."

"Oh? Hmm...feel free to keep trying on it with her if you so wish. But I shall....reserve my faith in the child. The grey skin may mean something else. Only time will tell."

Absalom was slightly stung by Lilith's coldness, but brushed it off all the same. After all Lilith was like this most days with most things. Even he recieved this treatment from time to time. He was practically used to recieving it now. But for her to show this to a Firstborn as an infant was quite telling to him. Regardless, he held out a cautious faith for the infant's continued growth. Intent on letting him keep fighting to survive with Ale's help.

#Darksiders: Origins #Darksiders Fandom #Darksiders Fanfics #Absalom #Lilith

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boogiewrites · 4 years

Text

Peach and Poppy

Characters: Declan Harp x Scarlet Dixon (OFC)

Summary: Declan Harp AU. Set in the 1970′s, Declan is a misbehaving psychiatric patient and Dr. Dixon or Dixie as he likes to call her, is a tenacious and underestimated new hospital director. Will this new job get the best of her delicate sensibilities like people are warning her? Will the charm of one of her patient’s awaken something in her she can’t come back from?

Warnings/Tags: Talk of manipulation, graphic language.

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

1975 was an exciting year for psychiatry and it was shaping up to be one for Scarlett. She sat in the driver's seat, something she’d had to work so hard to accomplish. Her father had insisted with her new position of such importance it would look proper to be driven around again. But she’d only been living on her own for a few years now and she wasn’t ready to give up that freedom again.

She supposed he truly had a soft spot for her because he hadn't been entirely dismissive of this rebelliousness. But he always gave in to her in the end.

“Those feminists out there in… heathen California and such. Dixie darlin, I brought you up to be a respected little lady. You’re a dang doctor! Miss Georgia! You’re smart and gorgeous as the day is long honey, why would you wanna go and act ugly like that?”

This always came with the intimidating insinuation that it would sure be a shame if her actions were what lost him the next election.

With a wide-eyed, “It won’t be a problem, daddy.” He’d give her a hug and lift up her chin, tell her she looked like her mama and she’d be proud.

If he’d wanted a daughter to fall for that maybe he shouldn’t have let her become a psychiatrist.

But Scarlet or Dixie as those close to her called her, her daddy had been right about one thing, she was smart. She’d learned how to play the game in her favor long ago. In a public and pressured life like hers, looking how she did, she learned early what was expected of her and how men were going to treat her. She was allowed a bit of protection. Her father wasn’t just some kiss ass politician. He’d been known to make a few people disappear, and the whiff of a threat always around him, so his daughter would understandably come with some consequences. But now she’d become her own person, a doctor, and had a house and life of her own that she was still having fun exploring.

She was an accomplished psychiatrist. Engaged to one of her daddy’s lawyers and now the head chief of a psychiatric hospital. Which was where she was headed right now in the new car her daddy had bought her. A slick thing that made her feel confident and a bit bad if she were being honest. This is not a feeling she was accustomed to, and on this morning drive out of the city into rural Georgia for her first day on the job, she was feeling a lot of things she never had before.

It wasn’t a dream job by any stretch. This was going to be work. But with so many specialty fellowships, she felt like she had what it took to turn the place around.

When she pulled into the parking lot it was clear the job was bigger than anticipated. She stood outside her car with a bag stuffed full of files and looked up at the daunting hospital. It’d been around much longer than she had. Served as a sanitarium during the TB outbreaks, now showing its age and functions as Sunny Valley Psychiatric Hospital. Much preferred to the dated terminology of lunatic asylum it had formerly held. The old chief had been there for over 30 years. A lot had changed outside of Sunny Valley but the inside hadn't. She was going to have to gut and rebuild this place from the ground up, she thought as she took a deep breath and made her way in.

———-

The murmurs started long before she’d stepped foot into the hospital. She hadn’t expected a warm welcome, it’d been a stressful time for everyone with a regime change, but the doctors, some older than her father, and all men weren’t going to be an easy sell on her as their new boss.

She understood from a statistical standpoint. She hadn’t been practicing for that many years. But in that time she had been published and was known for her unique approach to care. Her father had also donated a large sum of money to the state's Psychiatric Association. Which certainly didn’t hurt her chances. —————

So she came in with a positive, self-assured attitude. She had a game plan and now the hard work began. She meets with the doctors on staff with bold new orders. She would meet with each individual to go over the patient and their care plan. She would lay out new directives and goals, telling them she was bringing them into a new age of medicine where new research and medicine are all utilized with psychotherapy, medication, and the arts. It went over about as well as she expected. At least she was prepared for every rebuttal and excuse as she was an avid reader of medical journals. She’d infuriated a handful who resigned, but she preferred to bring in new life anyway.

She met with every employee, from groundskeepers and kitchen to housekeeping. She gave them her plans for updates and explained she was going to start looking for funding immediately and to expect changes and upgrades. Most of the staff liked her new hands-on approach, not the idea of more work but instead the idea of someone who would listen to them being in charge.

She spent days buried in files with arguments on treatment and headaches. The lingering stench of cigar smoke still hung in her office no matter how widely she opened the windows. She’d laid the base for her work, now it was time to move onto the most important part, the patients themselves.

————————-

It was Friday and the exhausting week was nowhere near finished. However, she thought she’d been able to check off a huge phase of her plan, a satisfying thick line through it on her goal list.

“There is actually one other patient that we uh… forgot.” A male nurse says as he hangs in her doorway.

“Forgot?” She says with the tone of a scolding mother. “How do you FORGET a patient?”

“He’s been in isolation and we don’t go down there much so the night crew didn’t tell us he was still down there.”

She wanted to bang her head into the desk. She thought she’d processed how poorly they were treating people but they kept on surprising her.

“This...this will not happen again. We don’t lose track of patients...of PEOPLE. We are not that sort of establishment now. I want a new record-keeping system for this sort of thing. Have it to me by the end of next week.”

“Yes ma’am." The frustrated younger man said.

“It’s Doctor Dixon. Now show me to him.” She shoos him out of the doorway.

Not even the golden hour light could salvage the depressing aesthetic of the hospital. Peeling paint and chipped tiles she had to skip over with her heels were everywhere she went. She pulled her white lab coat over her matching suit set as they made their way into an even more dreary sort of hallway. Some doors weren’t even on the hinges and inside were torn padded cells in a neglected wing of the building.

“I’d expect to find something like this in the old abandoned B building but not here. You still keep people in these things?” She says with a heavy sigh of frustration.

“Just this one. And we don’t have to use it often. Well. Just for him.” She shrugs as he finds his key.

“Who is him?”

“Harp. He’s… difficult.”

“How so?”

“Prone to violent outbursts, sleeping with other patients… staff.”

Scarlet lets out a scoff. “And he should be forgotten in a dark tiny room for that?”

“Uhh.. it’s… where we put him when he won’t listen.”

“Just… open it? Okay. I’ll deal with you and this… horrid treatment plan you have allowed here later."

“You sure you don’t want me to get someone else to help, he mi-“

“Open the damn door.” She ordered more sternly, whatever it is I can handle it.” she insisted loudly and with a glare.

For a few heavy moments, nothing happens, just an open door into a very dark room that the light doesn’t reach. The white noise of the bodies inside the building beyond the wing’s heavy double doors was slight, just a steady beat of her pulse in her ears as her eyes tried to focus. The nurse stands in a defensive body position as Scarlet peers into the room taking tentative steps forward.

She waits and then hears movement. The aid moves into the room and she follows behind, seeing how this is going to go.

“C’mon Harp.” He grunts and uses his foot to roll the man onto his front.

“Did you just…” the face of the aid turns fast to a very angry face staring daggers into him. “...kick him?”

“No ma’am I was just rolling him so he could get up easier.”

She hears a muffled grunt from the man on the floor who’s slowly moving.

“Shut up.” The aid mutters down.

Dixie takes a deep breath to compose herself. “Go to your supervisor's office and wait for me.” She states coldly.

“Ma’am I-“

“I don’t care what you have to say anymore alright? Every time I’ve given you a chance you have only continuously failed so you’re fired. Go tell HR, and send one of the female nurses this way, please.”

She gets the death stare she’d seen a million times before when correcting and enacting her authority to a man. “Yes ma’am.” He grits through his teeth.

As she hears his footsteps down the hall she begins to kneel next to this unfortunate man. “I would like to apologize for this treatment, Mister Harp.”

She sees his face, a beard just started to fill out and as unkempt as his shirt and greasy hair. It laid in the way his sleeping had moved it, he had crusts on his face and his eyes were squeezed shut from the light. She helps him sit up, being gentle but having to exert to help the large man. She let his eyes adjust and when he finally opened them to look at her his face contorted into a very confused expression.

“I’m Doctor Dixon. The previous Chief passed away and I’m his replacement. I’ll be taking care of the hospital now. And I would like to personally apologize for the mistreatment you’ve been given here previously. This is archaic and holds no scientific grounds to help patients based on formal studies.”

He really only heard a few of her rushed words. She’d lost him towards the end there but whatever she said it had sounded nice. His ears worked better than his eyes at the moment and the almost husky, thick, and sweet feminine Georgia accent rolling out of her painted mouth like sweat dripping down a glass was making him melt too.

“So the old guy finally bit it?” He croaks out after clearing his throat.

“Yes. Heart attack they said.”

“Mmmph.” Was his emotionless reply. From how he’s been treated she didn’t blame him for not being upset. So far no one had really acted upset about the news. It was very telling.

“Who are you?” He focuses his eyes on her.

“Doctor Dixon. I’m here to replace the Chief that just died.”

“Ah.” He nods and then winces.

“Would you mind if we got you out of here and cleaned up? We could speak over a good meal, I'd love to hear what you have to say about the previous administration. I want to help.”

As another nurse swept in, a broad farmer's daughter, helped her loosen the jacket and get him to the washroom. “You want to… know what I think?” He lets out a hoarse chuckle.

“Of course. You’re a part of this hospital and if I’m running it I want to know everything. Good and the bad.”

He nods and focuses on using his legs, the journey to the bath hadn’t felt this long in a while. “You take your time, schedule him down for some Physical Therapy tomorrow please. I’ll go make sure your room is ready.” She says reassuringly. He sees her disappear into the fuzz of the distance, his injection still making him groggy. —————— He’d slicked back his wild and uneven hair with water and was currently hunched over his desk in his room being allowed to eat in peace. It was nice.

“Hello? Mr. Harp?” A slightly familiar voice from his doorway says. A little redhead with a daughter of a dentist smile and perfectly coiffed big hair came and sat in the seat next to his desk. “I managed to grab an extra pudding. You want it?” She sits it on his desk as she has a seat.

It’d been a while since he’d seen anyone new and she was bright and shiny and there was plenty to look at. He looks her over and then to the cup. “A bribe?”

“No. I thought for all the hell the former establishment put you through that at the moment an extra pudding cup is the least I could do.” She gives a real smile and a huff of a laugh. Been a long time since someone had interacted with him like he wasn’t in a psychiatric ward.

“Hmmph.” He grunts and accepts the offer.

“I did want to hear about your treatment here. As I said. I want this hospital to be a place where people can receive the help and support they need to achieve their goals. I’m not here to be a warden. I’m here to be a doctor. I took an oath to help others and I seem to be one of the few around that took that seriously.” She huffs.

“You don’t act like a doctor.”

“I’m a horse of a different color I presume.”

He nods in acknowledgment and continues eating.

“I wanted to know the good and bad of the hospital previously. Because I want to fix things. The men responsible for putting you in that cell have all been fired I'd like you to know.”

“Really...taking charge of the place aren’t ya?”

“I’m being met with much resistance.” She admits with a smile.

“Let me add to it then. I have conditions.”

“Conditions? What for?” She leaned closer and he could smell her perfume. It’d been a while since he’d been buried in the neck of a woman that smelled expensive like she did.

“For this information you want.”

“Oh. Well okay. What would you like Mr. Harp?”

“For starters call me Declan.” He waves his hand. “You’re gonna be my doctor right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So I’ll be having sessions with you now?”

“Correct.”

“We starting tomorrow?”

“If you wish.”

“I do. And I want you to have me something waiting in your office when I come in.”

“What would that be?”

“A cheeseburger.”

“A cheeseburger?” She laughs.

“The biggest you can find from the greasiest place you know of.”

She laughs and nods enthusiastically. “Consider it done.” She says happily.

“Really?”

“Why not?” she shrugs. “Perfectly reasonable request.”

He blinks in surprise at her but with dark narrowed eyes. “I’ll sing like a bird for you after I have that burger then.”

“Consider it a deal.” She holds out her hand to shake on it and the trust she was showing for him not to yank her down and have his way with her was astounding.

“Lookin forward to it, Doc…?” He shakes her hand.

“Dixon.” She adds with no annoyance for repeating it.

“Doctor Dixon. Alright. See you then.”

“Looking forward to it.” She repeats back playfully and he’s left with a visible confused expression on his face for the pleasant interaction he’d just had with someone in charge. He didn’t know if he was happy about or ashamed of himself. But she had certainly caught his interest.

——————————

“Hey, there jailbird.” says the woman in the worn chair. She was sitting incorrectly as always, this time with her legs over the arm of the chair.

“Hey, Alex.” He sighs to his only real friend in the hospital.

“Was this a new record?” She asks, turning her head from the old television in the activity room towards a tired and beaten up looking Declan.

“I don’t know. I was the one in the box I don’t know what day it is.”

“Thursday.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah, you really pissed them off last time.” She laughs. “Can’t keep your charm to yourself can you?”

“No ma’am.” He wears a sly grin. “Speaking of have you seen that new doctor?”

“New doctor director.” She corrects with a point of a finger. “Yes, I have.”

“What do you think about her?”

“I like her.”

“Really? You like no one.” He questions her motives.

“I saw her today. She’s...different.”

“Yeah. Different. That’s what I thought.” He hums in thought.

“I’m surprised you haven’t made sweet sweet love to that little peachy assed firecracker.” Alex jokes.

“Oh, it’s been on mind ever since I came to and saw her walk out of my room in that tight little skirt.”

“She is...yeah.” Alex blushes slightly. “But she was actually nice to me. Was strange.”

“Yeah me too. It was...new.” He runs his arm and settles into his chair.

“She wrote down my complaints. Apparently, she has for everyone so far. She called down to the office and fired Jones because I told her what he did to me.”

“Yeah, she fired numb nuts that threw me in.”

“You should play nice with this one. She might be a good one.”

“I wouldn’t bruise that peach.”

“You’ll have to practice your lying. You’ve gotten rusty.” She grins.

“I don’t plan on it. If she comes through with my request I’m gonna tell her about all this bullshit.”

“She even mentioned… getting out.” She adds in a quieter more serious tone and Declan immediately notices and changes his focus.

“What’d she say?” He whispers with great interest.

“Apparently a few years back the...psychiatry people said homosexuality was no longer a mental illness. So she’s going to work to get that removed from my paperwork and we can work on the rest. It’ll “improve my chances of being released tremendously” Alex mocks the doctor's heavy southern drawl.

“Yeah she’s a little belle isn’t she?” He laughs.

“I mean her name is Scarlett for fucks sake. She is a debutante.”

“Well fuck me that’s a sexy name.”

“Don’t I know it. About creamed my cotton panties when she told me. Dr. Scarlett Dixon.” She mocks again.

“I’m gonna make her cream hers.” Declan promises with wiggling eyebrows.

“I’m sure you will stud. But play nice. She could be useful. Plus she has a fiancé. Didn’t you see that big rock on her hand?”

“I didn’t.” He shakes his head. “Never stopped me before.”

“Not much has.”

——————————-

Scarlet got home late, almost nodding off from overwork and the calming quiet of the drive. She yawns and wakes herself up before entering her house she shared with her fiancé currently.

“Hello, Phillip.” She sighs out, seeing him with his glasses on and hunched over his desk in his office by the front door. “Did Wilamena make dinner as I requested?”

“Yeah. It’s...in the fridge.” He doesn’t look up when responding.

“Do you have a minute? I had a big day today.” She says sheepishly.

He looks up and sighs. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to tell you about my day is all. Big changes coming with this job.” She bounces on her feet excitedly.

“You’re working in a nuthouse Dixie how interesting can it be?”

“Very. Actually. And that’s a rather offensive term so please don’t refer to it in that way. Especially at the fundraiser coming up.”

“When was that again?”

“Tuesday.” She sighs. She’d told him so many times and it was so important to her.

“Mmm.” He answers.

“What does Hmm mean?” She asks with her irritation showing.

“I might have something that night.”

“Of course you do.” She mutters and rubs her temple.

“I’m a busy man.” He says lazily but defensively.

“Yeah. And I’m a busy woman and still manage to find time for everything.” She says quietly but sharply.

“Do you want the work I do for your father to suffer? Do you want me to mess up one of his legal proceedings and have him arrested? Because that’s what happens when I don’t work Dixie.”

With her jaw tight she huffs air out of her nose in frustration. “Of course I don’t.” She says bitterly. “I just wish you had time to be my fiancé and not just my father's lawyer. We don’t even… sleep together anymore. You realize it’s been months?”

“Has it?” He asks rhetorically with his eyes back to his desk.

“Yes. I had a good day and thought I could share my successes and you could validate my hard work and I could have some attention from you to celebrate things going well.”

“I need to know these things in advance. I can’t just up and be in a mood to give you attention. I’m-“

“A busy man. I know.” She sighs and lets her hands hit her hips. She went to bed frustrated and alone after eating cold leftovers while standing in her kitchen. Who was she to give people advice anyway? She certainly didn’t have her shit together.

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s

#declan harp #frontier #declan harp fanfic #declan harp fic #declan harp au #declan harp x ofc

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