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v-hope · 3 years

Text

Fall Out, 9:47PM — Belong

Warning: Familiar argument/fight and violence (nothing major).

Feeling his pocket vibrate over and over as Jimin kept spamming him with texts for him to go back downstairs where the party was taking place, he kept on walking, completely ignoring his best friend’s pleads, as he knew all too well that Jimin would not make a scene, which would definitely happen if he ran after him to stop him.

It wasn’t like he was trying to start a fight or anything. He had just seen you talk to your parents by the other side of the room — neither of you looking precisely happy as you made your way upstairs, where Jimin had pointed out your bedroom was. And, although he was dying to know what was going on, he knew he could always ask you afterwards. It was watching Sungjin going up right after you, what made him decide he was joining whatever was happening up there as well.

After all, he was your boyfriend. Not Sungjin. Even if the entire world believed otherwise.

It took him a good couple of minutes to find your room, for the mansion you used to live in was way bigger than he had expected — the music downstairs being barely audible anymore as he kept walking deeper into the second floor. He would probably have ended up giving up and going back down with Jimin to keep on drinking his feelings away, if it weren’t for the fact that he caught a glimpse of Sungjin after having turned right into what he thought, and hoped, was the last hallway.

Lee remained outside of a white door that Taehyung supposed belonged to your bedroom — palms lightly pressed to it as he tried his best to listen to what you and your parents were talking about inside.

“Stalker much?” Taehyung couldn’t help but call out once he reached his side, voice quiet as he tried his best for you not to listen to them from the other side of the door.

Sungjin rolled his eyes, taking a step back from the door. “Just worried”.

“What’s there to be worried about?”

“Y/N’s trying to talk them out of going on the trip, that won’t end up well”.

Taehyung frowned, clear panic mixed with confusion in his eyes. “What trip?”

Sungjin froze, petrified eyes locking with Taehyung’s to try and find out whether he was playing dumb or not.

“Yah, what trip are you talking about?” Taehyung pushed it.

“She… She didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head no. And for a moment there, staring into the dumbfounded and quite worried expression on Sungjin's face, he forgot that he didn’t know about your relationship to begin with. He seemed way too aware not to.

Nevertheless, even if Sungjin didn’t know you and Taehyung had been a couple for a good amount of months by now, he was not stupid — the chemistry between the two of you, and the way you cared for one another, were too much for him not to notice. Therefore, he was indeed taken aback over you not telling Taehyung you were going on a family trip with him.

Before Sungjin could even begin to try and give him an explanation, however, both their heads snapped back to the door — the voices inside becoming louder and closer to where they were standing. Just enough for them to be heard through the door, even more considering both guys pressed their ears to it without a second thought.

“You never listen to me!” your exasperated voice was the first one they heard. “I don’t want to do this anymore, just let me go already”.

“You can still change your mind, dear” your mother spoke up. “We said one year and we’re not giving up on showing you that you belong here until the last second”.

“Will you ever leave me alone after that?” your broken words made Taehyung feel uneasy. “Because this one year was supposed to be for me to show you I could survive on my own, which, by the way, I already did. It was never for you to convince me to stay”.

“We would be morons not to try and make you stay, dear”.

“I’m starting to believe the two of you will sabotage my life until I come crawling back here with you”.

“All we’re asking is for you to consider your choices until the year is done. We’re not monsters, darling” it was your father the one to speak up this time, causing Taehyung to roll his eyes right as you scoffed quite loudly.

“Lately that is all I can see you two as”.

“Excuse me?”

“What I just said,” although your voice trembled, it was confident enough. “I love you both so much, but all you’ve done this past year is make my life harder. I loved my life here, with its ups and downs, until the Jimin incident happened and you guys became even more controlling than you ever were”.

“We just want what’s best for you” your mother tried to make you understand. “All we want is for you to have the best things in life, Y/N”.

“And I have everything I need back home with Taehyung”.

Sungjin’s eyes snapped up to Taehyung, who bit the inside of his cheek, trying his best not to smile at your words, as your relationship had apparently been exposed to your fake fiancé right then.

“Please, that is not your home” your mother laughed, in a way that made your boyfriend’s blood boil. “You belong here, dear. You’re a Kim. You have always been and will always be a Kim. I know you will come to your senses and marry Sungjin so you can take after our business with your brother. You’re coming with us and that’s final”.

“Watch me. I’m not going on that trip”.

That’s when the doorknob turned and you came out of the room, stopping in your tracks when you stood face to face with the two nosy guys who didn’t know where to hide right then.

“What are you doing here?” your father’s voice was heard over yours — threatening eyes not on Sungjin, but on Taehyung.

Your boyfriend, however, did not take one step back. “Trying to find out what’s going on here”.

“I will tell you what’s going on here, handsome” your mother interrupted, unintentionally using the pet name you had for him — in a despective way, of course. He hated it. “Our daughter deserves better than you. She will come with us on a family trip with Sungjin and his family, so she can spend some quality time with her fiancé and realise how much happier she would be if she just married him and stayed here with us”.

“I’m not staying”.

“Whether you like it or not, this is reality” your mother kept talking to Taehyung regardless of your addition. “Did you really think a heiress like her could fall for a cheap artist like you?”

“Don’t you dare talk to him like that” you defended him in a heartbeat.

Taehyung, on the other hand, stayed silent.

He knew that was not what you thought. He had heard you only one minute ago tell your parents that you wanted to be with him, that your home was with him. Nevertheless, it hurt. Hearing all those things hurt, because they were exactly what he had been thinking when he saw you act ever so happily with your guests downstairs as your birthday gala went on.

No mater how many actual proof he had of you wanting to stay with him, he couldn’t help but think that there was still a chance, as small as it could be, of you coming back here with your parents and leaving him. Maybe it was the trauma of having lost all his loved ones before, he wasn’t sure. But, whatever it was, he couldn’t help but feel like he would lose you in the end.

They were right, in a way. You were used to this lifestyle. And he wished he could give you this kind of life. But he couldn’t. He could not afford it. He would never be able to afford it.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that” your mother fought back. “You still are my daughter, dear. Know your place”.

“Please,” you let out a breathy laugh. “I’ve known my place all along. Now you should take a hint and know yours, mother. Taehyung is my boyfriend”.

“And I am your mother”.

“I don’t care who you are! I love him! I love him and I’m staying with him, whether you like it or n—”

Your words were cut off by a burning feel in your cheek, one that a second later you learned had been caused by your mother’s hand colliding with it.

That was all it took for the two guys present to run next to you. Taehyung was faster, though — warm, familiar hands cupping your face and checking up on your already swollen cheek, his worried eyes silently asking your teary ones if you were okay, only glaring at your mother once you had nodded your head.

“What is wrong with you?!”

“I’m her mother, she owes me respect”.

“She owes you nothing!” he pulled you to him. “She is an adult, why can’t you get that?”

“We do not owe you any explanations” your father said, so calmingly it was infuriating.

“I would like an explanation, though” Sungjin mumbled. “Since I could possibly be marrying into this family”.

“Sungjin-ah…” your mother warned him.

“You just hit your daughter. In front of our eyes. You cannot possibly believe that is alright”.

“I believe the two of you don’t have a say in this”.

“As her possible future husband, I think I do”.

“And as her actual boyfriend,” Taehyung’s low voice caught their attention. “I will be taking her away from you now”.

Before they could stop you, his hand travelled up to your shoulder, securely keeping you by his side as he turned around and guided you away from the dramatic scene you had been involved in.

“I wouldn’t stop her from going on the trip with us tomorrow if I were you” your father spoke up as the two of you walked away from them. “Wouldn’t want your precious art to go downhill”.

“Whatever”.

You stared up at him, not being able to hide just how much both your father’s threat and Taehyung’s careless answer had worried you. Daring your parents was like playing with fire, and you didn’t want him to burn — especially not when he had found himself involved in this whole situation because of you.

All the confidence you had once felt about not going on the trip no matter what card they pulled on you, gone. For they were no longer using a card against you, but on him. You could not drag him into a fight that wasn’t his.

But he didn’t seem to mind. And, if he did, he was hiding it very damn well. With his eyes fixed ahead of you, he did nothing but keep walking aimlessly.

Although his first thought had been to take you home, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the place was filled with paps waiting outside so they could pester with questions and picture whoever it was that left the gala. Definitely not the way to go when you’re trying to keep a relationship secret. So, instead, he took you to one of the bathrooms on the second floor — informing you where he wanted to go and having you point out for him where the closest bathroom was.

Once inside, he made sure to lock the door, later lifting you up by your waist and sitting you down on the sink. Turning the hot water on, he wet a small towel and gently pressed it to the swollen skin on your cheek, causing a small whimper to escape your mouth at the contact.

“Are you really okay?” his eyes fixed on yours.

You nodded, a small smile curving up the corners of your lips. “Should’ve seen the one she gave me after finding out about Jimin and I”.

“It’s not funny” he shook his head, eyes just as worried as before.

“Sorry” you lowered your head. “I’m okay, though. It hurt me more what she said to you”.

“It was nothing” he lied, pressing the towel to your face one last time before he put it down next to you on the sink.

“None of it is true” you reassured him.

“Even the trip bit?”

You bit your lip, feeling your chest tighten as you knew you could no longer keep this from him; not when you had not managed to make your parents change their mind. You shook your head no. “That part is true…”

“So you’re truly going on a ‘family trip’ with them” his voice let you know just how bad he was not having it. “When?”

You said nothing, staring down at your hands resting on your lap as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers.

“Y/N?” he pushed it, your silence alone letting him know he would not like the answer he was looking for. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow”.

Silence.

And then, a breathy laugh escaped his mouth — an incredulous one, with no signs of humor in it whatsoever.

“Tomorrow?” he repeated. “You’re leaving tomorrow for God knows how long, on a trip with the one guy you’re possibly marrying, and you’re only now telling me?”

“I’m not marrying him” you mumbled.

“Were you even planning on telling me at all?” he asked, not seeming to care about your quiet correction. “Or were you just leaving tomorrow and letting me know once you were in a hotel room on the other side of the world?”

“Don’t be like that…”

“Then how do you want me to be, Y/N? Don’t I have a right to know my girlfriend is going on a trip with another guy?”

“I was trying to stop the trip altogether” you tried to explain. “That’s why I was talking to my parents. I do not want to go, Taehyung. I was trying to make them change their mind”.

“Well, that surely worked” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry” you held his hands in yours. “I tried, I really did”.

“So that’s it?” he asked coldly. “You’re going?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes!” he took a step back, hands slipping from yours. “You do. You’ve had a choice all along, yet you’ve decided to still follow your parents’ orders even after all this time”.

“My father literally threatened your career if I ended up not going”.

“I don’t care what he does to my career. I can go back to work part time and keep it as a hobby for all I care”.

“I won’t let you do that”.

“I told you I don’t care about it,” his voice turned stern. “Why do you?”

“Because I don’t want to be the reason your life is sabotaged”.

“My life is being sabotaged right now and it’s got nothing to do with my art”.

That had you furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“This, right now” he pointed to you and back at him. “I want to be with you, Y/N. But you’re not letting me, you’re making all the decisions for me”.

“I’m not making any decisions for you”.

“Yes, you are” he threw his head back in exasperation. “You’re choosing my career over you right now and I’m not even getting a say on it. It’s supposed to be my decision and I’d choose you in a heartbeat”.

“Taehyung…”

“Just stay here” he pleaded in a small whisper, his forehead faintly resting on yours. “With me”.

You bit your bottom lip, in a poor attempt at stopping it from trembling as your eyes welled up with tears. “I can’t…” you managed to whisper. “I can’t risk it. Even if I did stay, you would end up hating me for having ruined for you what you love the most”.

“I love you the most”.

You shook your head no. Your heart hurt more with every passing second. “It’s only going to be a couple of days. We won’t be there for longer than a week, an—”

“I don’t care how long it’s going to be,” he once again withdrew from your touch. “I don’t want you to go”.

“Taehyung, they have contacts in every single art gallery in the country” you pointed out, letting him know what he would be facing.

“I don’t care” he repeated, growing more frustrated by the second. “I’ve been very understanding when it comes to keeping our relationship a secret and you going out with Sungjin and acting like a couple all the time we’ve been dating, but I am not letting you go on a romantic trip with him”.

“It’s not a romantic trip”.

“No, you’re right. It’s a family trip” his words sounded venomous. “Do you know how much more that hurts? You’re supposed to be my family, not his”.

“I am!” you cupped his face, pulling him close enough for your forehead to rest on his. “I am your family, handsome. I’m never going to be his. But it’s just this once,” your thumbs softly caressed his cheeks. “Just this once, and then the last month will be gone and I won’t ever have to go out with him and act like a couple again”.

Taehyung shook his head, defeatedly closing his eyes. “It won’t end there,” he sighed. “You know that, right? After the trip there will be a family dinner, then maybe another gala, then a proposal, th—”

“No” you cut him off. “No, that won’t happen. I won’t let it happen”.

“They threatened us with my career, Y/N. They won’t let that card go” he reminded you. “And although I don’t care about it, you seem to do”.

“I just can’t bear to be the reason your dream goes to waste. I know my parents” you tried to explain. “This one month left will be over soon…”

“Why not stop everything now then?”

“They won’t let me. The deal was one year, they won’t let me give the remaining month up, don’t you think I’ve tried already?” your voice broke. “If I had known I would fall for you three months in, I wouldn’t have agreed to one year”.

He sighed, feeling his own eyes well up with tears, yet doing his best to stop them from falling. “I don’t want you to go…”

“I promise it will be just for a few days”.

“Just a few days are enough for you to change your mind”.

You froze at his words, a part of you understanding what he meant, yet not wanting to believe it. “What?”

Taehyung bit the inside of his cheek. He had said it out of spite, out of hurt, but it was done, and now you were waiting for an answer. So, he gave you one.

“I saw how happy you looked tonight. The way you would talk with those girls you’ve always said are not your friends. The way you would lock your arm with Sungjin’s and smile next to him all night long”.

“There are cameras everywhere, I was acting”.

“Didn’t look like acting” he mumbled.

You sighed, fixing your hair as you tried to come up with the right words. “I admit I did enjoy myself every now and then, but that doesn’t mean I want to stay here”.

“Try saying that after multiple nights having caviar and champagne for dinner”.

“You’re being unfair”.

“I am being unfair?” he scoffed. “I’m not the one going on a trip with the person I could end up marrying”.

“I won’t end up marrying him!” you repeated what you had been saying for over a year now. “I love you, not him. I won’t leave you and I will not marry him. You just… don’t trust me at all, do you?”

“Don’t try to turn the tables” he warned you.

“No, I know I hurt you and I know I’m in the wrong, and that you have all the right to be mad at me right now. But you should know better than to believe I will just drop what we have over a fancy life”.

“Well, it’s been nearly a year and you still haven’t let this double life of yours go. Plus, you didn’t move out because you hated this lifestyle, but because you didn’t want an arranged marriage, so…”

“So that’s what you think? That I will fall right back for this lifestyle’s charms and end up leaving you?” you tried to look for his eyes, only to have him stare intently to the wall on the side. “Do you think I changed from the way I was when we first met at all?”

He shrugged, and it was the fact that he stayed silent for a few seconds, actually considering his answer, what hurt you the most. “They’re your parents after all. Your family… or at least your biological one. You still love them no matter how bad they treat you, and I guess I get it. You just don’t seem ready to let them go”.

“I just told my parents that I love you and am staying with you” you pushed it.

“Words mean nothing when you’re showing the exact opposite” his words felt like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown at you. “If you wanted to stay with me like you say, we wouldn’t be having this argument right now”.

“It’s not that simple, you know that” you whispered.

He shrugged, saying nothing else as his eyes remained fixed anywhere else but in yours.

“I don’t see this conversation going anywhere anymore” you managed to quietly say, when you could no longer take the overwhelming silence that had taken over the room.

“On that we agree” he stated, taking another step back. “I’ll head back home”.

“I’ll be there once we’re done here”.

Taehyung nodded, reaching for the door and stopping once his hand was on the knob. He took a deep breath. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight”.

Your chest tightened, finding it hard to both breathe and speak, but you managed to do so nevertheless. “What’s the point of me going back home then?”

“Don’t you have clothes to pack?” his head turned to you.

You shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I can manage with what I have here”.

“Right. You can manage” his jaw tensed, the same way his hand tensed around the doorknob. “Stay here then”.

And without another word, he left.

638 notes · View notes

hanazuma-inactive · 3 years

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Hello, can i request with 2 characters? It's Semi and Ushijima with top male reader. Reader and Ushijima are couple. Their relationship is mostly Ushi being sub and will do anything reader told him to. Also reader a bit manipulative? Well it's easy for him to make someone do his bidding.

Reader told Ushi to touch himself inside an empty room while reader watching him and he order him not to cum without his instructions. Earlier that day, Reader told Semi to come to the room after school end and when he did appeared, he saw Ushi playing with his own body. The sight made him hard and reader whispering things that stimulate him more and usher him to mess up Ushi.

Reader enjoying the scene because he knew that Semi has feelings for Ushi and he's happy because he get a new toy to play with. After Semi cum inside Ushi, Reader pull him toward himself and pounding him hard till he collapse from the overstimulation. Also reader didn't neglect his boyfriend that's been begging him to fuck him and let him cum.

wrapped around your fingers, (nsfw) ushijima x top!reader x semi

pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!)

warnings: degradation, 3 some, hella manipulation, adultery kinda (?), daddy kink a little, there's also some dumbification and some random usual top reader kinks i slapped in there and publuc sex kinda me thinks

a/n: i love these types of request, dark but definitely fun to write, i lean bottom but this was still really 🛐

_____

"c'mon semi, look at your crush over there~ all riled up, touching himself, and begging to cum. won't you help him out a little?" you said pointing at ushijima, still with a vibrator inside his ass.

"y/n, p-please stop… this isn't right and you know it."

"oh i know very well it isn't, but who the fuck is gonna come and stop me? certainly not you with that hard-on in your pants."

you wanted to ruin ushijima more and more everyday, that's why you came up with the plan of completely breaking his mind with a particular someone else in mind. semi eita, one of the setters for the volleyball team. you knew he had a crush on ushijima ever since second year but ushi chose you over him. his feelings didn't die away and in fact it probably grew stronger than before. you wanted to take this chance to also mess with him a little, and see what kind of interesting scene will happen in front of your eyes.

bored, once again. it wasn't because you weren't satisfied with the relationship you had, you just simply wanted more risk and fun in it. ushijima is a very nice boyfriend even if he can be dense sometimes. he's obedient, especially to you. whatever you ask of him he'll almost always do it without fail. whether it was in the streets or in the sheets. the two of you were just out eating ramen till the filthy idea came rushing into your head.

after going home, you told your boyfriend to wait for you in the storage room afterschool tomorrow and answer a video chat with only his video on. you whispered some questionable instructions into his ears and handed over him a small box for him to put in his backpack later. you told him not to open the box until tomorrow and he listened like a good boy. the rest of the night went on as usual but you were excited to see what will happen tomorrow.

during class the next day you continued to remind ushijima about last night and told him to make sure not to forget about what's suppose to happen later today. while you were enjoying lunch with your boyfriend you nearly forgot to inform the other person about this. you strolled in the semi's classroom casually and walked over to his desk finding him writing the homework that hasn't even been assigned yet.

"heyyy semi, how's it going?" you said with a sly look on your face.

"oh hey y/n, i'm doing fine, do you need something?" semi said putting his pen down.

"i was wondering if you had time afterschool today?"

"i'm afraid not, i have something to attend to after school today, sorry about that."

"are you sure you can't come? i would really appreciate it if you do, it's something quite important."

"i really wish i could but i wouldn't want to push this off either-"

"wakatoshi is going to be there."

the air stiffened around the classroom as you saw semi tighten his fist. you knew he couldn't resist ushijima, and you didn't want to have to pull out this card either but he left you no choice. you can and will do anything to get what you want. semi turned his head but gave you a light nod in return. that was his signal of submission.

"i'll see you 15min after school on the balcony~" you said with a smug look and your hands inside your pocket.

the rest of your classes were so boring you nearly fell asleep. you wanted to get outta there and just carry out the rest of your plan. you were horny and you couldn't do anything about it, the thought of just fucking ushijima on his desk came into your mind a few times but was quickly brushed away after a while.

you quickly left your seat after class after giving your boyfriend a kiss on the forehead and a small wink. you headed over to the balcony of the school while ushijima headed over to the storage room waiting for your video call. ushijima found out what you gave him in the little box and understood exactly what you meant. he loosened himself up and put in the vibrator at a low setting just like you asked. he then dialed your phone with nothing on but his shirt.

"y-y/n, i did what you asked, is this good enough?" ushijima said with little moans coming out of his mouth.

"that's it good boy, such a little slut for me aren't you?"

ushi nodded his head while attempting to push the vibrator deeper inside him.

"remember now, no cumming until i say so, alright darling?"

"yes sir h-hah~"

you let out a low giggle and put your phone inside your pocket on mute to greet the grey hair male in front of you.

"hey semi, you're here."

"yes, where is ushijima? i need to go soon."

"woah woah what's the rush? follow me, i'll lead you to him."

semi was confused by what you meant but followed anyways. you led him to the storage room and told him to open the door himself. semi's heart began to race, afraid of what might be behind that door. his hands shook at the handle but eventually gained the courage to open it. he closed his eyes and pushed the door to see a heavenly sight he wouldn't even have seen in his dreams.

ushijima was on the floor wearing nothing but a t-shirt, his eyes closed, moaning your name and playing with his nipples. you ordered him to not cum without your permission so there he is. left on the floor alone, edging himself, desperate to be a good boy for you. ushijima opened his eyes after hearing the door of the storage room creak. out of panic he covered his hard cock and sat up straight, only to find one of his best friends and his boyfriend standing in front of him.

"y-y/n? semi? what are you guys doing here?!"

"aww look at you, following my instructions, good boy."

"y-y/n! what is this?!"

"hey darling, i never said you could stop, did i? now go on, keep pleasuring yourself, and if you do a good job i might just let you cum~"

"y-yes daddy…" ushijima said as he returned to the position he was in before.

"y/n! what are you doing! w-why did you even bring me here!" semi shouted out of rage.

"c'mon semi, look at your crush over there~ all riled up, touching himself, and begging to cum. won't you help him out a little?" you said pointing at ushijima.

"p-please stop… this isn't right and you know it."

"oh i know very well it isn't, but who the fuck is gonna come and stop me? certainly not you with that hard-on in your pants."

you were right, semi cock couldn't have been harder in his life. seeing his crush fucking himself with a vibrator and begging like a slut. he just couldn't control himself anymore. semi took off his pants and his cock bounced out of his underwear. he didn't even bother lubing himself up, he wanted to make ushi hurt, make him suffer for choosing you over him. while all of this was happening you were simply just an audience, enjoying the show put in front of you.

"yah fuck you, fucking slut… such a pretty little whore for y/n over there huh? fucking take my cock bitch!" semi grunted. you could hear the rage coming from his voice and that only excited you more.

ushijima was already out of breath, busy being fucked by semi. eyes rolled back, his tongue sticking out and his soft, overstimulated dick bouncing each time semi shoved further into him.

you walked over to semi and whispered into his ear.

"how good does it feel? to finally get what you wanted after so long."

"shut the fuck up, a-ah you fucking bastard!" semi said as he came into your boyfriend, grunting and moaning out of anger.

at this point ushijima was pretty much passed out but you haven't had your fun yet. while semi was trying to catch his breath, you quietly unbuckled your belt behind him and revealed your hard cock. you grabbed semi's hands behind him quickly and shoved your dick right into his ass, with no lube whatsoever.

"a-ah! what the fuck y/n fucking- let me go! what are you h-hah~"

"wow…look at you semi, just like your little crush over there you are also now getting fucked like a slut huh?" you said in a teasing manner.

"fuck off a-ah… why are you doing this!"

"oho? tired of playing nice are we? this is simply just payback, for fucking my boyfriend dumb. in return, i'm going to do the same for you~"

if semi actually had the strength to fight back he would. however with the giant cock head hitting his prostate over and over again it makes it hard for him to even talk. you kept whispering sweet words into semi's ears telling him how good of a slut he is, fucking someone's brains out and immediately getting the same treatment. sooner or later you fucked the male onto the floor, ass filled with cum and so broken that he can't even stand up anymore.

and there they were, both of your playthings, wrapped around your finger.

532 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 3 years

Text

THE SECRET - part one of three

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Virgin!Reader

Summary: You are a new cast member, playing Tommy Shelby’s love interest. During filming, you fall for your co-star Cillian Murphy.

Words: 6,556

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

Notes: For the purpose of this fic, Cillian is single.

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 @deefigs

@chrisevanshoeeee @desperate-and-broken

@weepingstudentfishhorse @fookingshelby @livinginfantaxy

@atomicsoulcollecto @datewithgianni @mariapaiva13

The Scene

You were nervous. This was your first role in a popular TV show.

You had been on small production TV shows in your home country of France. But this was different. The show had international success and you couldn’t believe that the producers of the show had chosen you for the role of 27-year-old Yvette L’mare for the series’ final Season.

You spoke fluent French and English and had experience in scenes with extensive dialogue due to your theatrical experience since you were 12.

But, you were by no means as experienced as some of the other candidates they had casted. After all, you were only 19.

You read the scripts over and over again after your successful audition and made yourself small rehearsal cards for each scene. The dialogue heavy scenes didn’t concern you. But, there were some scenes which were out of your comfort zone.

Your script included two intimate scenes with the actor who played the main character of the show, Thomas Shelby.

The first scene was simple enough, not much more than a kiss. The second scene, however, was to be filmed under closed set. Neither of you were going to be clothed in more than underpants, which meant that only the director, one assistant and the camara man would be present.

Before the audition, you watched the last two seasons of Peaky Blinders and you re-watched them just a week ago as part of your preparation and to give you an idea what the director will look for when filming these kinds of scenes.

Before that, you hadn’t paid much attention to the show.

From watching some of the series, it was obvious to you that your co-star was experienced. He portrayed Thomas Shelby impressively well which was something that made you even more nervous.

Will you live up to the standards of the director? Or will you fail miserably with these challenging scenes?

It didn’t matter. It was all too late now. You signed the Contract and were on your way to England.

You arrived a day before filming started in order to settle into your apartment.

The apartment was located within a hotel residence that was booked out for the cast for the entire period of production.

You shared a small two-bedroom apartment with another new cast member named Emma. Emma was from France as well and, ironically, portrayed your sister in the show. Emma was 24, slightly older than you and quite attractive. You immediately got along. She was focused, didn’t care much about partying and was down to earth.

For the first evening, after everyone arrived, the producers organised a dinner to introduce the new cast and crew members to everyone. This was when you first got to meet your co-star, Cillian.

Since you had several scenes together, the director of the show took the time to personally introduce you to Cillian.

Cillian greeted you with a big smile and you knew immediately why so many women were smitten by him. You recalled that, when you told friends and family about your audition, they wouldn’t stop talking about Thomas Shelby and how insanely attractive he was.

They were not wrong. But, what impressed you the most about Cillian was that he was so easy going and funny.

You talked to him for a while, about the most random topics, ignoring everyone else for at least 20 minutes until it was time for you to meet the other cast members.

‘Looks like you two have a lot to talk about?’ Anthony said jokingly.

‘Talking about wine’ you smiled, rather shyly.

‘Yeah, I got carried away talking about the wine production in the province. Did you know that Y/N’s parents own Bessiux Wines?’ Cillian asked, catching Anthony by surprise. ‘His sister got married at your parents’ estate last August’ Cillian added, causing Anthony to nod.

You talked about your parents’ winery for a little longer before Anthony asked you to meet the other cast members.

‘I am looking forward to working with you Cillian’ you said as you walked away and he responded with a smile and comforting ‘Likewise’.

After your encounter with Cillian you were introduced to Finn Cole and Natasha O’Keefe. You heard about Finn from your new roommate but only just then realised that he portrays Michael Grey.

You talked to both Finn and Natasha for a while and, whilst you enjoyed their company, you wished that you had some more time to talk to Cillian. Unfortunately for you, he left rather early that evening.

The next day, you picked up your schedule for the week and noticed that the scenes you prepared for were to be shot completely out of order.

In fact, your most intimate scene was scheduled for 10am on Day 2 of Production. You couldn’t believe it. You were by no means prepared for that.

Your first day on set went well and the director of the show complimented your work on several occasions. But, when filming was finished for the day, your nervousness sat in.

‘Are you alright Y/N?’ Emma asked as you were picking on your salad and looked at tomorrow’s scripts.

‘Yeah, just a bit nervous’ you sighed.

Emma looked over your shoulder to read your script.

‘Wow, they are throwing you right into the deep end’ she giggled.

‘Yes, they are’ you said with a shy smile before listening to some advice from Emma, who had more experience than you acting on screen.

That night, after reading your scripts at least ten more times and letting it play out in your head, you could not sleep and your lack of sleep was evident on set the next day.

‘Are you alright Y/N?’ Cillian asked concerned, noticing your yawning and your hands shivering slightly.

‘Yes, I am fine. I am just trying to think how to act the next scene. From reading this, it isn’t very clear to me what exactly I need to do’ you said concerned.

‘These scenes are scripted in a way to allow for improvisation. From experience, actors often fail to act these kinds of scenes directly to script, that’s why’ Cillian laughed.

‘Right, so the script is lacking the details on purpose?’ you asked.

‘Correct’ Cillian said. ‘John and Anthony will tell us what to do and in which direction to face so that you are covered. You don’t need to worry’ Cillian said reassuringly, causing you to giggle.

‘I am not worried about anyone seeing my breasts or something. I just don’t know what do, where to put my hands, my face, any of that’ you explained with total embarrassment.

‘Well, I suppose you just pretend to do what you would normally do when you are getting down to business’ Cillian said with a chuckle, not knowing how else to explain it.

‘Well, my experience in this department is limited. So, I apologise in advance for any awkwardness’ you said, your cheeks flushing even through the dense make up.

‘Y/N, these scenes are awkward even for the most experienced actors. If it gets too uncomfortable, we can postpone it, alright’ Cillian said, keeping a relaxed approach.

‘Alright. Thanks Cillian’ you said just before it was time for you to get changed into your gown.

The next time you would see Cillian was on the closed set, pretending to make love to him on the large cedar bed.

Just as you were getting undressed in the change room and put on the skin-coloured panties and robe you were given by the set assistant, you topped up your perfume.

You were going to be so close to each other, at least you wanted to smell nice.

After you were done, the set assistant applied some more lipstick and fixed up your hair before you sat down on the large bed. You were nervous, your heart pounding.

Cillian was much more relaxed sitting next to you in black Clavin Klein briefs. There was no need for a robe, his intimate parts were well covered, unlike yours.

His freckled skin was highlighted by the light which had not yet been adjusted and you couldn’t help but look at him while you made an effort to keep your small breasts covered from him at this point.

The cameraman was angling the camera while the director discussed the scene with you and Cillian.

You knew that this was going to be a disaster. The issue wasn’t so much that you were naked in front of the camera and the director, but more the fac that, as part of the scene, another man who you felt somewhat attracted to was about to see you like this, completely vulnerable. He was about to touch your naked skin and kiss you, but not out of his own accord. It felt absurd to you, yet you knew this was part of the job.

Finally, after the director gave his instructions, you got yourself into position.

With some embarrassment you handed the set assistant your robe and lied down on the bed.

You were waiting for some kind of joke from Cillian to lighten up the mood, but Cillian was very professional.

He sat down right next to you and you could tell that he was trying very hard to look away from your breasts.

Before he climbed over you to get into position, he gave you a warning. Regardless of the warning, you stopped breathing for a minute as he positioned himself on top of you.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked as he could see the nervousness on your face.

‘Yes’ you nodded, taking in a deep breath. He was so close that you could smell his skin and the scent of his aftershave.

‘Sink down a bit on the left forearm Cillian, we want to keep the rating below R18’ the director said with a laugh because your breasts were fully visible on camera.

‘We do?’ Cillian chuckled, causing you to laugh just before Cillian adjusted his position as instructed. For a short moment, his chest brushed against your left breast.

‘I am sorry’ he said politely.

‘It’s alright Cilly’ you said.

‘I think we are good now guys, I will count to three and we start the first part of the scene’ the director said.

It felt like an eternity with Cillian on top of you by the time the director called action.

In this scene, Tommy and Yvette were having sex. It was to start with a kiss followed by the obvious act.

There was no practice for a scene like this and, as soon as you heard the word action, Cillian’s lips slowly met yours. You closed your eyes and caressed his face with your hands as you let him take the lead. The kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity until he pulled away from you.

His body was soon grinding against yours, but without your most intimate parts touching. He made sure of that. Regardless of this, you could feel his legs in between yours and his chest brushing against your breasts. The sensation sent shivers down your body and small little goosebumps began to cover your chest. How embarrassing you thought and, unfortunately for you, your embarrassment was evident on your face and the cut was called.

You attempted the scene again several times. You kissed over and over again and your hands moved from his face to his arms and chest, exploring his skin while his body was grinding against you.

But, this wasn’t enough for the director who picked up that the movement of your hands and the expressions on your face weren’t giving the viewers the impression that this was real. Your biggest problem was that you were attracted to Cillian and you realised this more than ever during this scene and tried very hard to hide it, making you look nervous and embarrassed.

After a few more takes, the director suggested a break.

‘I am so sorry Cillian’ you said as you sat next to him in your dressing gown.

‘Don’t be. You are doing fine. These scenes can be tricky and really shouldn’t be scheduled for the second day of filming’ he said with a warm smile before excusing himself.

He was gone for about ten minutes while you had some water and waited for further instructions from the team.

When he returned, he informed you that he agreed with the director that the scene be postponed.

‘Cillian, I can do this, really’ you said upset about the postponement.

‘I know you can, but like I said, it’s the second day of filming and it would probably be easier once we had a few more scenes together’ Cillian suggested.

‘Is that not going to be a problem with the set up?’ you asked.

‘No, the prop can stay here for another month and one of the perks of being a producer is that I get a say in this stuff’ Cillian smiled.

‘I feel like such a failure’ you said embarrassed.

‘You are not Y/N, you are doing great, really’ Cillian said, his hands touching your arms.

‘Common, time to get ready for more scenes’ he said with a warm smile and you followed him to get changed, separately of course.

Mr Matchmaker

Later that night, some of the cast members were heading to the pub for dinner and you sat down next to Natasha and Emma when you arrived.

You told Natasha and Emma about what happened on set. You were still upset about it.

‘Oh gosh, don’t worry Y/N. Cillian is very easy going and Anthony is very impressed with your scenes from the first day so you have nothing to worry about. I remember my first sex scene with Cillian and it took nine takes and a lot of laughter to get it right’ Natasha said.

‘How do you know when it’s right though? It’s extremely awkward’ you said.

‘If it looks like you are having sex then it’s right’ Natasha laughed. ‘I actually think about the man in my life and just switch off throughout the scene. So, if you have a boyfriend, think about him. That might help with the comfort level’ Natasha said.

‘I am happily single’ you said with a smile just as Cillian arrived at the table.

‘You are late’ Natasha said, noticing the frustration on his face.

‘Sorry’ Cillian said as he sat down next to you.

‘Still dramas with Nadine?’ Natasha asked, causing you to wonder who Nadine was.

‘Yes’ he responded just before he ordered himself a drink.

Throughout the conversation you learned that Nadine was Cillian’s ex-girlfriend with whom he broke up as little as six weeks ago. Him and Nadine were together for three years and shared a house in Dublin until recently.

Your group was soon joined by some more cast members, including Finn Cole and everyone seemed in a pretty good mood.

You talked to Finn for a while until you excused yourself to get another drink.

As you walked to the bar, you noticed Cillian following you and engaged in a conversation with him.

‘Just in case you haven’t noticed, Finn seems to like you’ Cillian said as he stood next to you at the bar.

‘Oh, what makes you say that?’ you asked.

‘I just know. My matchmaking abilities are impeccable’ he joked.

Whilst you felt flattered, you weren’t interested in Finn and little did Cillian know that he was the one you had your eye on.

‘Really?’ you asked.

‘Yes, really. You should probably consider him. He is a nice guy, down to earth, good looking, the right age’ Cillian said cheekily.

‘I have my eyes on someone else Cillian, but thank you for your efforts’ you said with slight embarrassment and a hint of humour.

‘Now I am intrigued. Who is it? Someone on set?’ Cillian asked.

‘None of your business Mr Matchmaker’ you laughed.

‘Well, if you ever require my services, you know where to find me’ Cillian said, causing you to raise your eyebrows.

‘Services as in setting you up with someone from the crew, discreetly of course’ Cillian laughed, realising that his comment may have been received by you in the wrong way.

‘Right, you got me excited there for a moment’ you said jokingly.

‘Did I?’ Cillian joked. ‘Now that makes me feel good at my age’ Cillian added.

You knew how old he was. You googled him, just before you came to the pub, because you were curious about him, his background, things he doesn’t talk about. But, to your surprise, the fact that he was nearing 45, didn’t bother you the slightest and it certainly didn’t dampen the attraction you felt towards him.

You also knew that, being 19 years old, you would have no chance with him. He wasn’t the type of actor who was chasing young models like many other celebrities his age.

You and Cillian talked and joked for another 20 minutes before he excused himself. He had a busy day filming ahead of him and needed to get some rest.

Over the next few days, Cillian and you had several scenes together and spent some of your breaks together. You enjoyed his company and he clearly also enjoyed yours.

On Day 9 of Production, you even went as far and asked Cillian whether he wanted to watch the Liverpool game with you and Emma.

He accepted your invitation and you were quite excited. Emma was confused as to why you invited him over but didn’t think much about it until there was a knock on the door and she opened it.

To both of your surprise, Cillian had invited Finn along. Was he really so oblivious to the fact that you were attracted to him that he had to bring a sidekick, you thought?

The evening went rather slow and with you sitting in between Finn and Emma, you felt somewhat uncomfortable.

The next day, on Day 10 of Production, you had another somewhat intimate scene with Cillian. It wasn’t more than a kiss and some touching. Regardless, you were nervous but not nervous enough to first ask him why he invited Finn.

‘He invited himself when I told him about it’ Cillian chuckled. ‘I told you, he likes you’ he added.

‘That’s just great because now Emma thinks that I have a thing for him’ you said laughing.

‘These Rumours. You got to love them. Sometimes I seriously feel like I am back at school working here’ Cillian laughed.

This conversation led to an interesting question from Cillian. After you had time to talk about your days at school, he brought up your upcoming birthday. You seemed to have referred to school as a recent event, so he couldn’t help but ask how old you were turning.

‘I am turning 20’ you responded, causing Cillian to look at you almost like he had seen a ghost.

‘You are 19?’ he asked.

‘You seem surprised. How old did you think I was?’ you asked.

‘Not sure, mid or late twenties maybe?’ Cillian said just as the set assistant called you both to the scene.

Your nervousness set back in as you took your position in Thomas Shelby’s office.

The scene started of with a dialogue between Thomas Shelby and Yvette which went smoothly, as expected. The next part of the scene involved Thomas lifting Yvette onto his desk and kiss her passionately while running his hands over the back of her body.

The first attempt resulted in Cillian and you both laughing as he lifted you up. It was awkward and it didn’t help that you were ticklish.

The next take went smoothly. Cillian lifted you on to the desk gently before his hands ran down your back while he kissed you. Your hands caressed his face as he did and the director had to call the cut on the kiss.

You enjoyed it, and to his surprise, so did Cillian. He felt uncomfortable about enjoying kissing you or even spending time with you outside of work. Not only were you a co-worker but you were also much younger than him.

A sense of guilt ran through his mind right after the scene now that he knew your age. Kissing you shouldn’t feel good, it was wrong.

The director was happy with the scene and you hopped back off the table before asking Cillian whether he wanted to have lunch with you.

Little did you know that your lunch date was going to be your last with him for while as Cillian was trying hard to keep his distance from you thereafter.

Birthday Surprise

But this all changed another week later, on your birthday, which was Day 17 of Production.

By that point, filming was getting to you and you were tired and, therefore, declined the offer from Natasha to organise a birthday party for you.

Instead, you and some of the crew and cast went for dinner at a nearby restaurant.

The food was amazing and you spent two hours at the restaurant after a rather long day of filming. By about 8.30pm half of the crew and cast had left and it was only you, Cillian, Emma, Sam and Finn who stayed.

Finn was going to meet some friends at a nearby pub at 9pm and invited you all to join him. Whilst Emma and Sam agreed, you and Cillian weren’t keen and made your way back to the apartment complex.

‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ you blurted out all of a sudden just as you were both getting into the elevator. This question took all of your courage after Cillian had been avoiding to spend time with you.

‘I think the hotel bar is closed already’ Cillian said.

‘Well, as it happens, I am holding a bottle of red wine in my hand’ you said cheekily holding up the birthday present from Natasha.

‘I am not sure Y/N, we have to be up early’ Cillian said.

‘Common, it’s my birthday’ you said convincingly, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Alright, I suppose why not’ Cillian said as followed you down the hallway.

‘Your place. Emma is determined to pick up a date at the pub’ you laughed.

‘Yeah, I don’t want to be there for that’ Cillian joked as you walked further down the hallway. Your apartments were on the same floor.

You walked into Cillian’s apartment and took off your jacket before sitting down on the small lounge.

Just after Cillian poured two glasses of red wine and sat down next to you, his phone rang.

The display showed ‘Incoming Call from Nadine’ and he turned his phone to silent.

‘You should let me pick it up, it might solve all your problems’ you joked.

‘It just might’ Cillian laughed as he pressed the ‘Ignore’ button and put the phone down.

Just after the short interruption, Cillian and you began to talk about your work, travelling and some other things until he brought up an uncomfortable topic.

‘Do you remember two weeks ago when I tried to talk you into going out with Finn?’ Cillian asked.

‘Yes, Mr Matchmaker, I remember. Why?’ you said.

‘You said that you had your eyes on someone else…who is it?’ Cillian asked with a laugh, causing you to take a deep breath.

‘Oh god, are you still going on with this?’ you said with a laugh. This was the fourth time Cillian had asked you this question since you mentioned it to him.

‘Common, I have been pondering about this for weeks now. Tell me’ Cillian said.

‘No’ you giggled.

‘I promise I won’t tell anyone’ Cillian said.

‘Stop it’ you responded.

‘Alright, I will take a guess’ Cillian said before taking a pause. ‘Harry?’ Cillian asked, causing you to shake your head.

‘Daryl?’ he asked, causing you to shake your head again.

‘I don’t know then. That’s literally everyone who is around your age’ Cillian laughed.

‘Who said he’s around my age?’ you asked, causing Cillian to raise his eyebrow.

‘Paul?’ he then asked, causing you to shake your head again. Was he really that oblivious?

‘Everyone else is married, I think’ Cillian said.

‘You are not’ you said shyly after taking in a deep breath.

‘Me?’ he asked after taking a deep breath while his blue eyes looked at you, full of questions.

Your heart was pounding, your hand shaking again. There was no turning back now.

‘Yes, you’ you said nervously, looking at him almost fearful about his response.

He drew another deep breath while, in his mind, he was thinking about what to say.

‘Y/N, I feel humbled and it’s not that you aren’t a beautiful and smart woman, but I am more than twice your age’ he said.

‘Ignore the age difference for a minute and tell me that you don’t feel the same, that you don’t want me’ you said.

‘It is irrelevant what I feel and what I want, it still doesn’t make it right’ he responded.

‘But, are you attracted to me? It’s a simple question’ you asked nervously and, after drawing another deep breath, Cillian responded.

‘I’ve been trying very hard not to be...unsuccessfully so’ he sighed, causing you to smile.

‘Alright’ you said with the biggest grin on your face.

‘Alright?’ Cillian asked surprised by your response. This didn’t mean that he was going to give into you just like this and ignore his concerns, or did it?

‘So, what do you propose we do now? This will make things very awkward on set’ he said concerned.

‘This’ you said as you leaned in and pressed your lips onto his. His lips were just as soft as the last time you kissed on set, but this time there was an intensity and urgency between you.

He gave into the kiss as if there had never been any doubt and, unlike previous kisses you shared in a professional capacity, this time, when his lips parted, you could feel his tongue slip in between your lips and it wasn’t long until your tongues moved in sync with each other.

The kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity and you wanted so much more than taste his lips.

‘This is wrong Y/N’ Cillian said as your lips finally drifted apart.

‘Do you want me to leave?’ you asked, caressing his face, staring at all of the freckles which covered him.

‘No’ he said, earning him a smile from you just as he reached beneath your shirt and pressed his lips back onto yours.

His warm hands ran over the sides of your abdomen, up and down, until he lifted your t-shirt over your head.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen you like this before, but it felt different. His eyes didn’t have to shy away from your breasts and the rest of your body this time.

With his hands cupping your breasts, which were still covered by your black lace bra, the kiss intensified. It became more urgent and more passionate.

Your hands soon found their way beneath Cillian’s t-shirt also and, this time, touching his skin didn’t feel awkward or inappropriate.

Within seconds, his t-shirt landed on the floor next to yours just before Cillian’s fingers had found the clip of your bra.

It didn’t take his skilled fingers long to unclip it and let it join the rest of the clothes which you had already gotten rid of.

He took a moment to look at your breasts, right there in front of him yet again.

‘What’s wrong?’ you asked concerned as you noticed him stare at them.

‘Nothing, just taking in the beautiful view without feeling guilty about it’ Cillian smirked.

‘You checked out my breasts when we were filming, didn’t you?’ you said sheepishly.

‘Of course not’ he said with a laugh before he guided you backwards and down onto your bed.

You both were quick to remove your jeans and, moments later, there you were again, on the bed together wearing nothing but underpants. Just this time, there were no cameras. You were free to touch and kiss each other the way you pleased. It didn’t feel awkward. To the contrary. It felt right.

Hoovering over you again Cillian began to gently kiss your neck while one of his hands ran over your firm breasts. Finally, he was able to touch them, feel every inch of them.

Cillian soon worked his way to the lobe of your ear, playing with it using his tongue. Lightly sucking on it as his hand moved to your other breast, squeezing your nipple gently.

You didn't want this to end, and with a soft moan, you signaled Cillian to continue exploring your body. And so he did. You had never been with a man before, but in the moment, this felt comfortable, felt right.

As he continued to cast his spell on you and work his magic, your body responded. Your lace panties were soaking and your muscles began to vibrate with an unfamiliar feeling.

As Cillian’s lips moved back to your mouth for another passionate kiss, one of his hands wandered further down your body. But he was in no hurry, taking his time explore all of your body.

Cillian’s tongue began to gently drift between your lips and you responded with yours. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him even closer to you as his hand reached the top of your lace panties.

Pushing your panties aside slightly, he ran his fingers over your wet entrance, slowly and gently while his lips never left yours.

You moaned into the kiss just as the tip of one of his fingers dipped into you slightly.

You took in a deep breath and broke the kiss for a brief moment.

‘Cillian, I never had sex with anyone’ you said, causing him to remove his hand from your wet mound.

‘It’s alright. We won’t go that far until you are ready’ he said reassuringly.

‘That’s so embarrassing, I am sorry’ you said.

‘What is?’ Cillian asked, slightly confused.

‘I am 20, it’s weird don’t you think?’ you said shyly, your face flushed.

‘Don’t be silly Y/N. There is no rush’ Cillian said as he ran his hand over your cheek. ‘If it is any consolation to you, I didn’t expect any of this, tonight, with you and I am enjoying every moment of it even if we don’t have sex’ he added.

‘So am I Cillian’ you smiled.

‘Good’ Cillian said before kissing you again gently.

The kiss soon became heated again but Cillian wasn’t taking it further, giving you the chance to set the pace at which you were willing to move.

But, you enjoyed him playing with you, teasing your most intimate parts and, after several more minutes of passionate kisses, you guided his hand back in between your legs.

Your actions earned you a chuckle from him as his lips moved from your lips down to your breasts slowly.

As Cillian was gently trailing kisses over your breasts, your hand made it’s way in between your bodies where it found the elastic of his Calvin Klein briefs.

Cillian moaned briefly against your breasts as you slipped your hand beneath the elastic, gently taking hold of his erection.

His cock was warm and firm and his tip slightly lubricated from the precum that had pooled there.

You moved your hand up and down his shaft, stroking him gently while his fingers began to circle over your clit, making you moan loudly.

Your panties were getting wetter and wetter with each stroke of his fingers and you were grinding against his hand, wanting more.

You were panting and moaning in pleasure as he kept stimulating you with his fingers, until, all of a sudden, me removed his hand making you squirm in protest.

His mouth soon wandered from your breasts down to your stomach, forcing you to let go of his hard cock.

But, as your body responded beneath his, your mind couldn't catch up to the events unfolding between the two of you.

You surrendered and let him take control and it wasn’t long until his lips had reached the top of your panties.

‘Oh god’ you moaned in anticipation just as Cillian took hold of both sides of your panties before slipping them down.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ he asked, unsure about your reaction.

‘No, please don’t’ you said, your hands falling onto the top of your head.

Admiring the view, Cillian let his fingers run up and down your slit slowly and gently, taking the juices leaking from it and spreading them up to the hood over your clit.

You moaned loudly at the sensation as, suddenly, you could feel Cillian’s tongue join his fingers, playfully darting closer to your opening, but not quite getting there.

‘Cillian, fuck’ you moaned as energy was coursing through your body, wanting to release, but not quite getting there. He apparently had received a masters degree in how to play your body.

Suddenly his tongue was there, licking up the sides of each of your lips. Inspecting the crevices.

Your head began to thrash, your hands flew out and grabbed the bedding.

‘Let me know if I hurt you’ was the next thing you heard but didn’t pay much attention to as you felt one of his fingers enter you.

With the mildest of discomfort, you arched your back while moan after moan left your mouth.

For several minutes, his finger went in and out of you gently while his tongue was licking you, circling over your clit.

He wasn’t sure whether or not to add another finger, but he decided to try his luck after reminding you to tell him if he hurts you in any way.

Moments later, he inserted a second finger while continuing to circle your clit with his tongue.

‘Oh fuck’ you moaned. There was a slight discomfort but it didn’t last very long before you felt nothing but pure pleasure.

Cillian’s fingers began rubbing inside of you as he placed his mouth around the hood of your clit and began to suck.

‘Holy Shit Cillian’ you moaned. You could feel him smile against your mound.

You began to squirm but he would not let up and your body began its final ascent.

Waves of electricity were crashing through you and your hips were grinding and bucking under his direct tutelage as your orgasm washed over you.

You were a shaking mess by the time he was done and, when you finally came down from your high, Cillian moved up and gave you a passionate kiss.

You could taste your juices on his lips and it was possibly the most erotic moment you had ever experienced.

‘Your turn’ you smirked before pushing Cillian onto his back against the stash of pillows.

You comment caused Cillian to chuckle just before you leaned over him to kiss him.

‘You know you don’t have to Y/N. There is no rush’ he said, running his hand over your cheek as your lips drifted apart.

‘But I want to’ you said with determination. ‘I might just need a little guidance’ you said shyly before descending down on his body, trailing gentle kisses over his chest and all the way down to his stomach.

You adored his body, it was perfect. He was the most attractive man you ever met.

As you were gently kissing his stomach, your hands moved beneath the rim of his briefs before pulling them down.

His erection sprung up almost instantly as soon as the briefs cam down and you couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment.

‘I think I will just go for it and you tell me if I do something wrong’ you said with a smile as you pinned back your hair into a bun with the hairband that was wrapped around your wrist.

Your comment made Cillian laugh for a moment until he could feel your warm lips on the tip of his cock, at which point the word ‘fuck’ was all that left his mouth.

Moans soon began to escape him as you used your hands to stroke him, up and down, while the head of his cock lolled uneasily on the top of your tongue.

You took him deeper into your mouth with every stroke and, as the third inch made its way into your mouth, your lips were being stretched.

You soon managed to take him in all the way, although it was a struggle.

‘Fuck, Y/N’ Cillian moaned as his length disappeared in your mouth.

His comment made you stop and ask whether something was wrong.

‘No, you are doing it perfectly’ Cillian reassured you just before you returned your attention to his very hard cock.

By this time precum had pooled on the tip as you took him back into your mouth. It tasted sweet but yet salty at the same time.

Your tongue began circling around him and then up and down his shaft before returning to the bopping motions.

Cillian leaned back and relaxed as you improved your technique minute by minute.

Each stroke of your tongue was now driving him crazy.

Looking up at him occasionally, you could see that he was enjoying whatever you were doing.

Your tongue was moving like a snake, coating every inch of his velvety soft, yet hard cock with a fine patina of sweet, warm saliva.

It wasn’t long until you could feel Cillian’s cock throb inside your mouth and his breathing was becoming laboured.

His hand was tangled up inside your hair as you continued to bop your head up and down firmly.

‘Y/N, I am close, you might want to stop’ Cillian said, trying hard to hold back.

‘Come in my mouth’ you said confidently before you continued your movements.

Your comment caught Cillian by surprise but he didn’t dare to argue and let go.

Just as your mouth bopped down on his hard shaft again, you could feel him pulsate inside your mouth and, with one loud groan, his warm cum spurted on the back of your tongue.

You continued to bop your head and collect all of his cum until he began to relax.

‘Did you just?’ Cillian asked, and before he could finish his question, you interrupted.

‘Swallow? Yes, what else do you normally do with it?’ you asked with a smirk.

‘I hate sleeping on dirty sheets and I was planning to stay the night, so that seemed like the best option’ you laughed before laid beside Cillian, his arms gently wrapping around you.

‘Hey, I am not complaining’ he laughed as he ran his hands gently over your arms.

‘Didn’t think so’ you said before kissing him again gently.

You fell asleep pretty soon afterwards, curled up against Cillian’s chest.

You both slept well and deep until, at 6am, Cillian’s alarm went off.

‘Oh goddam, what’s the time?’ you asked.

‘6am, why?’ Cillian said as you jumped out of the bed and collected your clothes, trying to put them on as quickly as you can.

‘Y/N, we don’t have a scene until 7am. There is plenty of time’ he said.

‘Yes, but Emma starts at 6.30am. She will notice me not being there’ you explained.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine #thomas shelby #Peaky Blinders

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closhelby · 3 years

Text

Black Hand.

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: usual Peaky shit

Prompt: none bar the scene itself.

Word Count: 1,796.

Author note: wrote this three fucking times I’m at my wits end! Unsure to make this into a few parts.

——

Y/N woke again, at the crack of dawn, rolling over checking her watch, 5.36AM. This was the usual for her, since leaving Birmingham she could barely sleep past 6am, since the breakdown of her marriage.

It was Christmas morning, the first she was spending with only one of her two children. Charlie, y/n’s eldest son was spending his Christmas with his father this year, since splitting y/n and Tommy regularly had sex behind her boyfriends back, and then she fell pregnant, with her now two year old Harry. However, Tommy wasn’t aware of this child being his, and as far as everyone else was aware it was Roberts child.

Y/n rolled out of bed, and began to wash and get ready for the day ahead. She sat at her dressing table, thinking, as she did regularly, how it would’ve been if they didn’t spit. There was still very clearly tension there, sexual especially. Due to this, y/n cut all interaction with Tommy, whenever they needed to talk over Charlie, she would get nanny’s and maids to travel with him.

Just finishing her makeup, finishing her all off with a spritz of perfume and putting on her watch, which now shown it as 6.56am. Y/n went downstairs, starting to make herself a cup of tea when she was startled with the letterbox chattering as the postman put today’s Mail. She moved over to the door, bending over to pick up the letters, opening the first one to reveal a white card with a black hand on the front.

“Fuck!” Y/n’s heart started beating at a rapid rate, she knew that this meant kill or be killed. She needed to get her and Harry out of there ASAP. They weren’t far behind and they already knew where she lived. She ran back upstairs, grabbing overnight bags and stuffing them with her most valuable items and clothes she could possibly wear before doing the same for Harry. All while trying to be as quiet as she could because she didn’t want to wake Rob.

Y/n ran from the house to the car sat on the front drive, she didn’t even bother to ask a driver. She was going alone. Leaving alone. Without an explanation. Despite the severity of the situation, this was brewing for a long time. The current relationship was a cover up. Y/n accepted the fact that the only man she will ever love will remain Thomas Shelby, and she knew it would be the same for him. And I think that’s why they both didn’t file for a divorce.

Quickly packing the car with things she may need for herself and Harry, she ran back upstairs to collect the sleeping boy from his bed and placed him into the front seat of the car. He continued to sleep throughout the car ride, back to Small Heath. Y/n knew Tommy like the back of her hand, she knew that everyone that is associated with the Shelby name would have been dealt a black hand, and knew the only place they could possibly be safe would be in the polluted streets of Birmingham.

Turning the car onto Watery Lane, as all those childhood memory’s flooded back. From when she ran about with John as a kid, to when her and Ada would get into trouble together in her early teens, all the way to building a large profitable business with her husband, all came flooding to her. A rush of emotion, clearly visible on her face as the car came to a halt outside the once betting den. Y/n rarely had any emotion showing, only Tommy would see that in the many nights they spent alone, but that was the same for both of them. They acted tough to everyone else but vulnerable for each other. The bond they had, partners in crime, was admired, despite them both being gangsters.

Tommy was very clearly heartbroken from the downfall in their relationship, he also believed that y/n was the only woman for him in the long run. But the only way he felt that he could get over that was her under someone else. He turned to Lizzie on the regular, and as y/n still kept in contact with Ada, she knew about this. Y/n was very alike Tommy in this sense, if she needed to find something out, it would always come her way, weather she needed to look for it or not. Ultimately they shared a child together, technically two, but there was still so much love there between the both of them.

“Fucking hell,” y/n muttered before kicking in the door that stood before her. Her two year old son clutching to her chest, still fast asleep as she walked towards the family she still loved dearly. Pol loved her, loved her like her own, but they both had a similar trait, they never backed down. And sometimes like Tommy, they would argue for days on end.

Y/n stood before the table, where all but Tommy sat before her. She quickly scanned the room, noticing a blonde woman, she knew was Linda, but hadn’t met was looking at her with a very foul face on her. Ada on the other hand was smiling, excited to see her best friend after years of being away. Tommy standing to her left, eyes wide wondering why his wife was stood before him, in small Heath, with a young child in her hand.

Pol broke the silence first, “What the fuck are you doing here? Tommy tell ya?”

“No however, since you know, I find out absolutely anything I need to,” y/n spoke directing a foul look to Lizzie who was stood over in the corner, “I have also been dealt a black hand.”

There was a mutter of fuck sakes throughout the room, as they realised this was a bit more real than before. Tommy then started to talk about the issue at hand.

“Why are you starting when Johns not here?”

The room fell cold, distant and all eyes were trying to avoid hers. But Tommy wasn’t, he didn’t avoid her gaze as y/n turned to look at him. He very rarely lied to her, he simply couldn’t get away with it if anything, y/n found out everything.

“Fucking ‘ell Tommy, tell me!”

“John was killed this morning, on his front door step infront of his wife.”

Tears started to form in the once emotionless woman, the room felt as though it was caving in on them. Her legs felt heavy, like she could collapse to the ground at any moment, but her head felt light. She quickly muttered to Tommy, handing the baby over, stumbling back to process what she had just been told. John was before all this, they were best friends since they were about 4. They went all throughout school together, and because y/n dad had passed before he could walk her down the isle, John did.

“Those fuckin’ bastards! Christmas Day! Im going to fucking kill them myself,” y/n screamed in frustration.

“She won’t cope well with this,” Ada spoke quietly enough that the table could hear but y/n couldn’t. Ada approached her, giving her a soft cuddle of comfort. Y/n didn’t cry, she didn’t cry infront of anyone. But she was very close today.

She composed herself, breathing out before standing up, “why did I have to marry into this shit?”

“Why haven’t you divorced him?”

Ada knew the answer, she always had.

They both moved back over to the table, Ada returning to her seat while y/n stood by Tommy’s side. He still stood there holding his own child, without the knowledge of it. He continued to speak about the issues they were currently facing with Luca Changretta, but y/n wasn’t even listening to what he was saying, simply zoning out to how weird her life was. She’s looking at the love of her life while they’re no longer together, holding their second son that he has no clue about.

“Y/n?”

Her head quickly shot up following the direction of the voice. Arthur.

“Hm?”

“Peace or truce?” Tommy spoke.

“Peace”

“Very well. Six peace, two truce.” He quickly handed Harry back over to y/n before heading back upstairs. The group got up and left to do their own thing, while Ada sat at the table waiting for the catch up that was well needed between them both.

“Two seconds, I’m just gonna put Harry up to bed.” Ada nodded in response as y/n made her way upstairs to put Harry to bed. She opened the door to find Charlie sleeping in the small bed, leaning over to put Harry at the back of him, giving both of them a peck on the cheek before turning to see Tommy in the door way.

“Your new boyfriend is the dad? But your not married to him?”

“No I’m not married to him.”

“So you had a child out of wedlock?”

She sighed. She wasn’t going to lie to him anymore, there was enough damage and if she knew she would have to spend the next few months living with him, she needed to get it out there as soon as possible.

“No, I’m married.”

“yes, to me.”

Y/n walked over to him, pulling him into the room and closing the door behind him, aware of the fact this house was full. He took a seat on the small chair in the corner, while y/n stood slightly back from him.

“Remember that last fuck we had. Before I refused to see you.”

He nodded.

“I refused to see you because I was pregnant, and I knew it was yours.”

“Fuck sake y/n.” Tommy spoke, running his hands through his hair.

The room then went silent. The two of them not knowing what to say next, for the first time in years they were speechless.

Y/n decided to break it, “He knows. Rob knows he’s not his, he can see it, but it’s never been mentioned. Harry also knows who you are, I’ve shown him pictures of you that I have.”

Tommy stood up abruptly, making his way over to her. His hands wrapped round her waist as he pulled her closer to him. Y/n was looking, and clearly getting lost in his blue eyes. Tommy leaned in to her, their lips meeting softly,y/n began to kiss back. The feeling this was what they both had longed for. Both of them having sex with others that meant absolutely nothing to them. The bedroom door swings open to reveal Finn stood there, his mouth hung wide.

“A - Ada’s wondering where you are?”

Y/n smiled before pulling out the embrace, muttered a thanks then proceeded to go downstairs. She turns round as she’s on the third stair down, “don’t say a thing Finn,”

#cillian murphy #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peakyxtommy #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders

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retrievablememories · 3 years

Text

tokyo 2112 | baekhyun (m)

title: tokyo 2112 pairing: rich guy!baekhyun x reader genre: sci-fi/cyberpunk au, enemies to lovers, angst, non-explicit smut request: “hi, how are you? 💕 could i request some cyberpunk x baekhyun fic? i have in mind Tokyo, neon lights and explosive lovers. please feel free to choose the amount you want to write or you can. and thanks! ✨” word count: 12.8k warnings: body modifications/prosthetics, attempted robbery, physical violence (not between bh x reader, though reader does think about fighting him 💀), blood, non-graphic wounds, mentions of sex/one non-explicit sex scene, mentions of a car accident, frequent alcohol use/unhealthy reliance on alcohol, smoking, mentions of classism/poverty, mentions of experimentation, surgery is performed on the reader but not described, one mention of being weighed on a scale-like device a/n: this is my first real, lengthy attempt at enemies2lovers (or maybe just the genre “reader’s an a-hole who makes a lot of assumptions”) because i’m a clown and like to challenge myself for no reason...and this is why i don’t fool with this particular romance genre 💀 feedback is appreciated, this fic is just a whole lot of me experimentally punching above my weight and i’m a bit undecided on my feelings about it

also, i imagined the reader’s arm with a similar structure to the winter soldier’s, for reference

Tokyo, year 2112

You meet him in a Lower Tokyo club, the neon lights bleeding into each other and creating a deep, vivid landscape. It’s an unnaturally pretty scene—unnatural like everyone and everything else inside this club.

There’s a look of subdued wonder on his face, which makes you roll your eyes. He’s all made up and way too pretty to be in this dingy club with his gaudy piercings and expensive rings. Still, he enters the building in all his affluent glory, standing out against the crowd of gritty and cobbled-together androids and half-humans.

He’s a rich man’s son and an even richer man’s grandson. He’s known for being attractive, intelligent, and ridiculously rich—and that’s about all you know of the man himself. Him and his family have been excellent at keeping their personal lives air-tight, only ever letting the public know what they want everyone to know. But ultimately, they are only human. You know they cannot be as perfect as they try to maintain, and you can only imagine the unsavory things in their family history that go much deeper than anyone could ever think up.

“Do you think he wears all that to make up for the lack of enhancements?” Your friend Valor asks. He’s gesturing specifically to the man’s lip piercing and the chains hanging off of it, attached to the collar of his shirt. It’s a little strange, but it’s a signature look for him, and certainly not one of the weirder things in here.

“I’d like to rip it right out,” you reply in lieu of an actual answer to Valor’s question.

The man appears misplaced—like a researcher conducting a study of alien beings rather than a regular club goer—though he doesn’t seem to mind this. He just observes everything around him.

Valor chuckles and shakes his head at the display, throwing back another shot. “Weird.”

“Hm. Come on.” You steer Valor in the other direction, looking to get away from the man before he can get near your area of the club. Though this is your first time being in such close quarters with Byun Baekhyun despite his popularity across Tokyo, you’d like to cut things short if at all possible.

Another hour passes, and the drinks keep flowing. Your mind has gotten pleasantly hazy by now, almost enough to make you forget about the trespasser in your club scene. Almost.

You, Valor, and three other familiar faces sit at a small table near the back of the club. One of the guys is recounting some run-in he had the other week with the Droid Commission, though you can barely hear over the music that’s only getting louder, so you just nod and pretend to understand. However, he suddenly falters in his tale and his eyes dart up to a spot above your head. Turning back, you see that he is standing just over your shoulder. Without thinking, you recoil.

Baekhyun slides from behind you and comes to stand in front of you all now, a strangely convivial smile on his face. He acts like he’s merely visiting you all at brunch instead of standing in a club in the roughest part of the city.

“Exquisite work here,” he says, though his words drown in all the noise. None of you know what he’s saying, or who he’s saying it to. Noticing the acute confusion, Baekhyun lowers himself to your level, his scent passing across your nose as he does. Some robust and fancy cologne you don’t know the name of. Your eyebrows furrow at his proximity, and your blood rushes; maybe out of anger, or maybe just from being drunk. Then he touches your left shoulder, right where the metal of your arm connects to your living flesh.

Yeah, definitely anger.

“I said, this work is exquisite. Quite fascinating, really. Who made it?” Baekhyun has to get fairly close to your ear for you to hear him above the commotion, and you can feel the heat of his mouth next to your skin. His eyes travel the length of your arm, which is fully exposed in your tank top. His voice is irritatingly smooth, and the chains of his lip ring lightly brush your shoulder when he pulls back after he finishes speaking. Though your arm may be made of metal, it still has artificial sensory “nerves” running through it that connect it to the rest of your nervous system—and right now, they are screaming from that slight touch.

Maybe you really are just too damn drunk.

You look into Baekhyun’s dark eyes, which are imploring, coy, and playful all at once. The others at your table watch this interaction as if suspended in time, probably trying to process the sheer nerve of this dude.

“Fuck off,” you blurt out, and brush him off your shoulder with your flesh hand.

He remains unoffended; he even looks entertained by your blunt rejection.

The man who was previously telling his story speaks up. “You heard her. Fuck off, pretty boy.”

Baekhyun straightens up and nods, then reaches into his jacket. Two of the men leap to their feet, thinking he’s about to pull out a weapon—which would not be the first or last occurrence in this club—but he only brings out a business card, tucked between two of his fingers.

“Ever vigilant, aren’t you?” Baekhyun says, laying the card on the small tabletop. Then he directs his next sentence to you. “If you decide you feel like telling me more...get in touch.”

Then he disappears back into the mass of moving bodies just as quickly as he came. You flex the fingers on your metal hand, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

Both men at your table sit back down, although they’re still a bit disgruntled. Valor picks up the card to inspect it. “You gonna call that weirdo?”

“Please. You know me better than that by now.” You pluck the card from his hand and rip it up without a second thought. However, it takes a little longer to forget about the heated imprint of Baekhyun’s fingers on your shoulder, or his whispering voice fluttering against your eardrum.

Getting the arm was merely an act of survival, the way you saw it.

Money was low and jobs were scarce—ones that weren’t dangerous, straight-up unappealing, or low pay. There had been a scientific research trial for a new cybernetics program, and it paid much better than many other opportunities around—enough to live on for at least a year, give or take, especially with the cheaper cost of living in your area. You’d been terrified about giving up a part of your body, thinking your body might reject the foreign technology and kill you for the offense, but your desperation outweighed the fear.

Thankfully, it worked.

That was nearly two years ago, though, and the trial was long over. Even with you spending as frugally as you possibly could, the money was close to running out.

Odd jobs here and there help you out some, but they are few and far between and don’t pay nearly enough to make a living on.

You’re getting increasingly anxious about the lack of options and dwindling money, though you also spend half of your time getting drunk, hitting up the club, and simply trying not to acknowledge your crumbling life. If worst comes to worst, you can always think about finding another research trial and exchanging another body part. Maybe. These cybernetics programs often crop up more in Osaka, which would require you to leave the city, but maybe you could get another gig and scrape up enough money for travel...

For now, however, you are back at the club’s familiar bar and making small talk with the bartender, who’s an android without a real name or identity. Everyone just knows it as T-4000, though it appears to be fine with its little niche in the world. Sometimes it teases you about your arm and wonders when you will make a complete transformation into a “metalhead” like itself. Though you cringe, the company is better than nothing when the others aren’t around, so you allow the jokes.

Alone at the bar, you’re too preoccupied with staring into your drink to register the body sliding onto the bar stool next to yours until you hear The Voice flowing out again.

“One Blue Lagoon, please.”

Oh, fuck. You put your head in one hand and angle your body away from his in hopes that he doesn’t notice it’s you. But just as your fortune turns out, he happens to be facing your metal arm.

“Oh, it’s you again.” Baekhyun sounds pleased to see you, like this is some great unexpected coincidence, though you know that’s not likely true. You lift your drink to your mouth and pretend you don’t hear him, though that doesn’t deter him. “I never did hear back from you. How sad.”

“I have no desire to talk to you or anyone like you,” you say, still with your head turned.

“Anyone like me?” He chuckles.

“You don’t belong here, in case you didn't notice.”

“By whose definition?”

“Everyone’s,” you retort. T-4000 comes back with Baekhyun’s drink, and it gives you a look of bright amusement and curiosity with its digital-screen face as it rolls away to help another customer.

“I don’t concern myself with ‘everyone’s’ opinions,” Baekhyun replies, drinking from his glass. “Just the ones who matter.”

“Right, like your rich friends,” you scoff. “Why the hell are you even here?” You turn to him then, though looking at him feels like a mistake—like staring into a solar eclipse. He’s still wearing his chains, like always, and his eyes are smoked out with dark shades of eyeliner. The makeup makes him look eternally tired, but in some high-fashion model way.

“Because I don’t like being around my so-called ‘rich friends’ any more than you would.” Baekhyun smirks.

“So sorry.” You roll your eyes. “Maybe you should become a hermit, then.”

“You seem to be doing a good job of that right now. Where’s your friends from last time?” He looks around as if they’ll materialize.

“None of your business.”

Baekhyun leans on the bar counter, placing his arms on top of it, and his cologne hits you again. You try to hold your breath against the scent, though you can almost taste it in the back of your mouth. Shaking your head, you peer directly into his eyes now, which are as exceedingly curious as the last time. They’re still inky dark under this lighting, reminding you of black holes that absorb all light and life.

“Is it bad for me to want to know more about your arm?”

“Like I just said, it’s frankly none of your business.” You cast a forlorn glance at your drink, which has gotten dangerously low.

“Fair enough.” He sips again. “Now. What if I want to know about you?”

The back of your neck flares with heat, though you can’t fathom why. “You must be truly bored if that’s what you came here for. Unfortunately, you aren’t as interesting as you seem to think you are.”

“You injure me.” But you both know he’s not hurt at all by anything you can think of to say to him. “But this isn’t about me—it’s about you.”

“What about me? How you want to steal my arm and use it for scrap metal, maybe? Or to build yourself a body mod, even? You really stand out in here being the only one who’s not partway made of tin or some shit, and it makes people distrust you. You can figure that out, right?”

“You make a lot of assumptions.” Baekhyun swirls his drink around in his glass, the blue liquid swishing around the sides. “Let me make some, then. You seem like a mysterious, closed-off, and perpetually discontented person. And despite what you might think, it’s not my first time seeing you around. I guess I can’t interest you in entertaining my presence just for company’s sake?”

You pause, wondering where Baekhyun could have possibly spotted you. You don’t hang out in any of the places someone of his standing would usually be seen in. But then again, does he even frequent those areas of Upper Tokyo? He’s always spending his time mingling in Lower Tokyo’s notable haunts instead. “...Are you some kind of peeping tom or something equally pathetic?”

T-4000 perks up at that, even from its distance on the other side of the bar, and it scoots a little closer as if it’ll need to call the Droid Commission in another minute. Which, in actuality, is a terrible idea—calling on one of the city’s many vigilantes would have a more effective outcome, if need be, but sending them for Baekhyun of all people might land you all in prison.

“Tokyo is big,” Baekhyun deadpans, like it’s something even a baby would know. “You can see anyone anywhere.” Then his voice melts back into its normal suave tone. “I’ve noticed you in passing, once or twice. Your arm is something special, but it’s hard to forget a person like you.”

Despite yourself, you don’t totally hate the comment. That alone makes you want to leave the club and not look back for at least the next month or so, knowing he’s probably said this to dozens of other people before. You stay in your seat, though, trying to see what easy line this man is going to throw out next.

“I wonder why I’ve never noticed you, then.”

“You seem to be too consumed with your own problems half the time, even though I don’t know what those are. The stress is written all over your face, though.”

Can never miss a chance to be insufferable, it seems.

“Okay Mr. Psychoanalyst.” You knock back the tiny bit of drink left in your glass and push it away from you. You shake your head at the android when it gestures for a refill.

“Not a psychoanalyst, you’re just achingly easy to decipher.” His tone is casual, like this isn’t meant to be an insult, though you take offense anyway.

“You’re not very good at whatever this is,” you say.

“What do you think this is? Flirting? Maybe you wouldn’t be wrong there.” He laughs.

“Yeah, well. Get some more practice and then maybe you can convince some other poor sap to get to know you better and sign over the rights to their cybernetics, but I won’t be falling for it.”

“I guess that means I’ll just have to try harder, then.” And then he finishes his drink, too. “Not the stealing your arm bit, but the getting to know you part.” He pauses for another moment, and then says, “It’s easy to become enamored with this place.” He waves his hand around at the club’s surroundings. “Expect to see me around more often. I think I’ve already taken a liking to you.”

Baekhyun tips his empty glass to you and gets up from his stool. His cologne swirls around you as he leaves, not overpowering, but enough to make its mark on your olfactory memories. You don’t look back to see where he walks off to, too busy trying to ignore the small headache building behind your eyes and your elevated heart rate.

He’s already taken a liking to you. Why would a ridiculous comment like that even get to you?

God. You really need to get laid.

So, you do just that.

Not with Baekhyun, but with someone from the club whose name you don’t even remember before it’s even over. It was painfully uneventful sex, and it did nothing to banish the man from your mind, which makes you feel even more irritated.

Walking back to your tiny apartment afterwards feels like a certified Walk of Shame even though it’s late at night and no one really cares to notice you. You spit on the sidewalk as if that could properly convey your disgust. You think of Osaka again—and what the fuck are you going to do to even get the money to get there?—and of the business card that you’d ripped up without remorse.

You shake your head, sending that thought back to the depths of your mind. Nevermind. That doesn’t matter. What could he possibly have for you, and why would you want it? Tucking your hands tighter in your pockets, you keep your head down and remain inconspicuous until you get back to the not-so-welcome sight of your own place.

You, Valor, and a few others sit around a makeshift bonfire at Tokyo’s Rainbow Bridge—or what remains of it, anyway, with weeds and tall grass sprouting up in the space that was once its parking lot. For the past hour, this impromptu hangout been nothing but smoking cigarettes and drinking cheap alcohol and shooting the breeze. The nights are always much colder than the days, the chill biting into your skin and seeping into your clothes, but you try to ignore it and huddle closer to the fire. Maybe there is something, anything else you could be doing other than this, but you are just a bit too weak—and a little too lonely—to say no to the companionship. Even if it means listening to the uninteresting conversations of men who you barely know outside of the club or without a bottle of whiskey in their hands.

Your hangout session remains sleepy and boring for a while until someone makes a suggestion. One of them keeps going on about some steady, reliable work he’s supposedly found from a trusted friend, though he refuses to elaborate on what kind of work it is when asked. You make a sound of disgust and tune him out. Useless suggestions are as bad as none at all.

“Maybe we oughta rob that Baekhyun dude.”

You look up from the flames, fixing your eyes on the one who said it—a man called Lockjaw—and someone else chuckles in disbelief.

“You serious?” Valor asks.

Lockjaw sits forward in his ratty lawn chair, and with the way the light hits his face, it’s easier to see how his bottom jaw and teeth are completely metal. It makes you wince internally every time you see him, though you always feel kinda bad afterwards. That must’ve hurt exponentially worse than your own procedure. “Why the fuck not? He struts around Lower Tokyo like he has it all...and the bastard does. We sit and grovel for scraps, yet there’s a walking goldmine right in front of us.”

The idea of taking Baekhyun’s riches had never quite appealed to you or fully manifested in your mind. You didn’t want anything belonging to him, mostly because of your own disdain towards the man. However, the suggestion appears in sharp relief now, so obvious that it’s hard to believe no one else proposed it until now. You don’t immediately respond to this concept being thrown around, but something uneasy settles in your chest.

Valor sits back with a mildly disinterested look. “And you think someone like him doesn’t have major security hanging around waiting to incinerate someone with a ray gun if they tried it?”

“Do you ever see anyone hanging around him?”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not there. Somewhere.”

“Then we’ll be strapped up,” Lockjaw says, throwing his hands in the air. “And any of his little ‘security team’ who tries it will be blown into the stratosphere. That’s how we take care of that.” You shake your head only slightly, a movement not noticeable enough to be picked up by the others. You rub your tongue against the inside of your cheek, picturing all the ways this plan could go belly-up. To your irritation, Valor decides to drag you into the fold despite your efforts to stay out of the conversation.

“What do ya think, Y/N? Baekhyun’s been on your tail lately, maybe you could help lure him in.” That stirs up several murmurs and targeted stares in your direction.

“Yeah?” Lockjaw leans forward even more, his ass nearly slipping off the edge of the chair. “Think you can get in good with him?”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “Uh...it’s not like I’m buddy-buddy with him—”

“You don’t need to be, just tell him to bring his ass here and we’ll do the rest.”

Your mouth tightens. With all eyes trained on you, some expressions less friendly than others, it feels impossible to refuse. “I guess.”

“It’ll provide the money you’ve been worrying over for the past year.” Valor offers, and you shoot him a side-eye. Not like you needed him to broadcast your business to the world.

“That’s how life around here works,” another man chimes in, putting his cigarette out on the dirt and getting off his makeshift stoop of an upturned bucket. He stretches his arms and legs, and though you can’t see them under his long pants, you can hear the soft whirring and clicking of his metal legs. “Eat or be eaten. I’ve made my choice.”

Lockjaw gives a wolfish smile. Your apprehension rises, though you say nothing. “Eat, we will.”

You try to act nonchalant the next time you see Baekhyun at the club. You only notice him as you’re leaving, having already waited most of the night to see if he’d show up this time. You slow to a stop as you spot him in the alleyway behind the club, speaking to another club-goer—you’ve seen the person around before. You can only imagine what they were talking about before you’d interrupted their little scene, and the person scurries off, perhaps somewhat reluctantly, once it’s clear they’ve lost Baekhyun’s attention. Maybe that was the poor sap he’d finally found who’d be misguided enough to give up their cybernetics.

Baekhyun approaches you with a smile, his chains catching in the light of the flashy neon sign above. The kohl is dark and smoky around his eyes, in perfect sameness with every other time you’ve seen him.

“Hello, one who’s name I still don’t know—”

“You should come see me,” you interrupt. You want this to be as quick as possible, not wanting to dwell on any fake niceties.

Baekhyun lifts an eyebrow. “See you? At...your place, or—”

“At the ruins of Rainbow Bridge. Thursday night, around 9. Unless you’re too busy doing rich people stuff.”

“Rainbow Bridge…” He draws the words slowly across his tongue. Probably thinking of what a ruin the bridge is now—and has been for the past few decades—and wondering why you’re asking him to meet there of all places.

“I have a friend who lives around there—no fucking place to stay, you know, just holes up wherever he can. But he can...let you see the inner workings of my arm. Pick him up, take him back to your place; I’m sure you have a lab.” And because you know what he’s really looking for, you throw in, “He’s studied the technology, knows it inside-out. He could help you build...whatever it is you want.”

Baekhyun’s eyes, which you normally perceive as two lightless voids, sparkle at that last part. You can practically see the light increase in them. “Oh really?”

You roll your own eyes. “Yes, really. I’m not going to let you walk off with my damn arm, but you can...take notes on the mechanisms and shit. It’s up to you. I just got tired of you fuckin’ asking, so don’t think this is going to turn into some weekly meetup or whatever.”

He nods, slowly at first, and then more assuredly. “Alright, then. I’ll come.”

“So...yeah.” A sudden wave of anxiety crashes over you now that the trap has been laid. You feel as if you make one wrong move now, it’ll blow everything. He’ll find out and hate you for it. But why should you care about him hating you? “Then...see ya Thursday. Bye.” You decide to make your exit, walking briskly past him in the alley.

“Leaving so soon?” Baekhyun asks, turning back to watch your figure retreat. You wave one hand behind you in a dismissive gesture.

“I’ve been here all fuckin’ night, Byun. I’m going home now—to get some sleep, if I’m lucky.”

He chuckles, the sound fading behind you as you walk away. “Sweet dreams.”

Your steps falter just slightly when those words leave his lips, and several emotions begin warring in your chest. You ignore them all and continue on your walk back to your place, though you almost wish you could turn back to the club and ask for another drink or three. Something to get your mind off that ridiculously simple phrase that’ll be spinning around in your mind all night.

The night of the plan, you begin having major second thoughts.

It’s not as if you didn’t already feel shitty about it, but your mind keeps racing with how ridiculous of an idea this really is. It’s far too late to talk anyone out of it, as they’ve already stocked up on contraband weapons and laid their gameplan, but you feel less and less “okay” about being a part of it.

Most of all, you feel increasingly guilty about using Baekhyun’s trust in you for this; he never seemed to assume you had any other motives behind your invitation. Even if it’s ridiculously, oddly naive of him to trust you—someone he knows nothing about—you don’t feel great about exploiting that for your own gains.

It takes him less time to show up than you’d hoped. He’s right there at the agreed time, annoyingly punctual, his sleek black luxury car pulling up in the dirt and patchy grass. It looks like it was cut out of a magazine and placed there—almost comically out of place. Just like him.

Baekhyun gets out of the car and walks out onto the grass to meet you, uncaring of the mud and dirt he’s stepping in. He smirks, his hands in his pockets and his chains dangling. “Would now be a good time to get your name, or are we in too deep at this point?”

There’s no one else but him. Definitely too trusting.

You nervously chew your lip as you mull that question over. If everything goes like the others intend it to, there won’t be a point in telling him your name. But if he’s still alive by the end of the night, you could be exposing yourself. Still...a name won’t matter either way if he can give a perfect description of you to the Droid Commission.

Suddenly, you decide not to give it any more thought. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N, Y/N...” He says your name like he’s tasting a charming new food. “I like it. It suits you.”

Baekhyun’s smile is too sincere, and it doesn’t make you feel any better. “Come on.” You turn your back to him as you lead him through the tall grass and toward a broken section of the bridge’s main road. It leans against the main structure of the bridge and sticks halfway out of the muddy ditch that was once Tokyo Bay, its jagged edge reaching toward the night sky.

It’s darker under here, with the broken bridge blocking out the moon and stars and lights from buildings nearby. Your stomach rolls.

“So, who is this friend of yours?”

You turn to Baekhyun then, and you don’t know if he can read the anxiety on your face. Maybe he can. He’d proudly bragged about his own abilities for figuring people out.

It happens all at once, somehow slow and fast at the same time.

One of the men—the one with two metal legs—slinks out from behind the broken bridge and sneaks up behind Baekhyun, a stun spear in his hands. Its two large metal prongs are lit up with electricity. Those metal prongs are aimed directly at Baekhyun’s back, ready to make contact, but that never happens.

“Look out!” you scream, and shove Baekhyun out of the way. He stumbles off to the side, falling against the concrete bridge, and you wildly grasp the long spear with both hands, blocking the man from reaching Baekhyun.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Metal Legs shouts. He drives the spear’s metal bar forward, knocking it into your upper chest and collarbone with a force that makes your teeth chatter, and the pain and shock take your breath away for a few moments.

You’re not a fighter. You usually try to stay out of any ridiculous brawls when they do happen, whether at your apartment building or the club, but you do your best to hold the dude off. So even though you stumble back, you keep your hold as tight around the spear as you can and shove it back, putting your weight behind the movement and cracking it against the man’s chin. He howls with pain and anger and his hands momentarily loosen on the weapon. You take that opportunity to snatch it completely from him.

Nearby, Baekhyun is busy fending off Lockjaw with a long knife, both of them fully engaged in a fierce clash of blades. You feel a burst of surprise. He was armed this entire time? Had he realized something was suspicious after all? Most of all, how does he know how to fight?

You don’t have much more time to think about that, though. Metal Legs is recovering from the hit, his hand reaching for his side like he’s about to pull out his own knife or gun. You leap forward and shove the prongs of the stun spear into his ribs. He quickly collapses to the dirt, motionless after a handful of frightening convulsions. You feel cold fear at the idea that you might’ve just killed him, but you can’t dwell on that when you see the others bursting out of the tall grass a few yards away from you and Baekhyun. The backup, in case something went wrong—which it most definitely has.

Lockjaw has Baekhyun up against the concrete of the bridge, his knife near Baekhyun’s neck and Baekhyun trying to block the blade. The sharp metal inches increasingly closer to its target. With your legs shaking, you run up behind Lockjaw and dig the electrified prongs into his side, sending more volts through his body than you can imagine.

Lockjaw’s weapon drops, and Baekhyun stumbles away. The man takes a little longer to be knocked unconscious than Metal Legs, but you are relieved when he’s out a few seconds later.

You look at Baekhyun, who appears dazed and winded; you belatedly realize he might’ve received some of the shock too, with both men’s arms locked together when you initially used the spear. “Get out of here! The rest are coming—go!” A shot from a ray gun zips through the air between you two and burns the concrete of the bridge.

Baekhyun looks at you wordlessly. Then he grabs your wrist as tight as a vise. You glance at him questioningly, and your confusion mounts when he drags you along with him as he takes off towards his car. The red smearing across your hand and wrist tells you he must be bleeding from somewhere, and shock blooms in your chest for a wild moment.

The car door opens without him even touching the handle or speaking a command, and he jostles you into the backseat, trying to avoid the spear’s prongs; you’re still holding it tight, as you expected you’d need it to face the others—however futile that would’ve been. You’re so frazzled once you get in the car that it takes you a moment to realize Baekhyun is in the backseat with you. “What are you doing?!”

“Get on the highway,” Baekhyun speaks, ignoring your frantic question, and the engine roars in your ears as the car peels out of the grassy lot. The vehicle narrowly escapes another round of angry shots fired by the others, and the grass sizzles where the shots land.

A self-driving car. Of course he’d have one of those. You stare at the steering wheel as it turns on its own, maneuvering you both away from the scene of the crime and back onto the paved roads.

“Your arm…” You look at the sleeve of Baekhyun’s jacket. It’s torn now, and you can see the skin of his forearm underneath, which displays a long cut. Lucky for him, it’s not deep enough to need stitches. He has similar, smaller ones on his hands.

Baekhyun examines the wound and makes a sound of disgust. “It’ll be fine,” he says decisively. “The bastard wasn’t as good with a knife as he wishes he was.”

You nod silently, though the movement feels mechanical. As the reality of the situation seeps in, a whirlpool of dread forms in your stomach.

“Fuck, I-I’m fucked.”

Baekhyun gives a humorless laugh. “You’re fucked?”

“I’ll...need to lay low for a while.” Then you glance at him. “Unless you’re driving me to the Commission. Then, well…at least they can’t get to me while I’m in prison.” Your laugh is equally humorless.

“You’re going into hiding?” Baekhyun asks, and the corner of his mouth lifts. You don’t expect this reaction. Not after him almost being jacked and led into the situation by none other than you.

His smirk exasperates you. You almost want to roll your eyes at him not realizing why you’d need to hide. Or maybe he’s just playing coy about it; but you give him a break for now. “I ruined the plan and helped you out, so yeah, my own place is not gonna be safe anymore. ‘Friends’ are fleeting out here. Especially if you fuck with someone else’s money.” Valor crosses your mind, the only one you could really call a friend out of all the others—and only because you knew more secrets of his than they did. Your chest tightens with a strange guilt. You should’ve just said no from the beginning.

The car is quiet for a few long moments. Then Baekhyun shatters the silence with, “Come home with me, then. You can stay there for a little while.”

You bark out a laugh. “You can’t be for real.”

He sits back against the leather seat. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t. It’s a waste of time otherwise.”

“After I just—could’ve gotten you killed?”

“I said it before—you’re like an open book. Your emotions are practically written on your face. It’s pretty damn obvious to me you were never truly up for this plan. Unfortunately, you aren’t the badass you think you are, but at least your efforts saved me.”

“But I still—”

“You certainly don’t have to take the offer if you don’t want it.”

You become quiet at that. Even if you don’t think you deserve this level of mercy, you don’t want to shun this offer of safety and be left to contend with the streets alone. Your voice is tense and quiet when you respond. “I’ll take it.”

Baekhyun’s home is a penthouse in the heart of Upper Tokyo, which doesn’t surprise you. The contrast in his neighborhood’s appearance with what you’re used to seeing in Lower Tokyo is stark and painful—spotlessly clean streets with sweepers continually traveling up and down them, bright holographic billboards, people walking around with personal androids accompanying them. You begin to feel resentful again, and you wish you could swallow those feelings after he’s been gracious enough to rescue you, but you can’t help it.

You two must make quite a sight once you pull into the apartment building’s parking garage—you holding a stun spear, wearing a slightly shabby outfit of a T-shirt, jeans, and jacket, and Baekhyun walking out with disheveled, torn clothes and bloody hands. Someone gets out of the parking garage elevator once the doors open, and they give a startled look when they see you two.

“Good to see you, Jongin,” Baekhyun greets the other man. His tone is friendly, but his expression dares the other man to ask any questions—which you both know he won’t.

“Good evening, Baekhyun.” The man gives a slight nod in your direction as he walks past you two, though there’s no hiding the distaste he thinks he’s disguising. His eyes linger on your metal hand, and you feel exposed; you try to convince yourself he’s just looking at the spear, which would also make sense.

You try to shake the feeling off as you and Baekhyun step into the elevator cabin, but confusion rushes over you to replace it. The floor of the elevator is more like a scale, sensing the weight of your bodies and sinking slightly further into the floor once you step onto it.

“What’s that all about?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah. That. This isn’t like your typical elevator, it’s a teleportation channel,” Baekhyun says this nonchalantly as he reaches for the touchscreen panel on the wall.

“Um, what? I don’t want to be teleported anywhere.” You jump right back out of the cabin before the doors can close, and Baekhyun gives you a weary look as he holds them open with one crimson hand.

“It’s safe, you don’t have to worry about anything. All it does is take the atoms in your body and replicate them elsewhere; the floor measures your mass. I’ve done it hundreds of times.”

“You don’t say.” Sarcasm drips from your voice. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m not interested in turning into ground meat on the other side of that thing.”

“There are no stairs in this building, just teleportation channels. If you want to climb the side of the building to get to my place, be my guest.” Baekhyun starts pressing on the panel as if he’ll leave you behind, and panic spikes in your chest. You decide to get back on with him, much to your displeasure.

You close your eyes tight just as the inside of the cabin starts glowing with light, and you can only hope your last lived experience won’t be riding a teleporter with Baekhyun in the same night you tried to mug him.

Surprisingly, the transportation doesn't feel like anything. One minute you’re there on the parking garage ground floor, and the next minute you hear the whoosh of the doors opening again. It’s like you never moved an inch, but you obviously have when the doors reveal the lavish interior of Baekhyun’s home.

Grateful to be at your destination, you step out of the teleporter as quickly as possible. “How did we end up right inside your place?”

“Clever, right? It uses fingerprint recognition so no one else can get access but me, but you’d know that if you hadn’t slammed your eyes shut.”

For all your talk of Baekhyun being out of place in Lower Tokyo, you suddenly feel like the fish out of water inside his penthouse. There’s metal and glass and holographic materials everywhere, which is the same stuff you’d find in Lower Tokyo, but here it’s all much more sleek, shiny, and well-maintained. His living room alone looks bigger than your entire apartment.

“Come on, don’t just stand there.” He gestures for you to follow him further down the hall, and you hesitantly do.

“Um...I don’t really want to carry this all night,” you say, referring to the stun spear still in your hands.

Baekhyun turns back to you, blocking the path to the rest of the hallway. “Do you even know how to turn it off?” It’s still charged with energy. You look at it up and down, but it isn’t immediately obvious to you. You don’t want to admit that, though, and keep awkwardly looking for some sort of Off switch until Baekhyun can’t stand the silence anymore. “Look, just give it to me.”

Your mouth twists at that. It seems nonsensical considering he’s just given you a safe haven, but you’re wary he’ll try to turn the weapon on you. Maybe he was waiting to get you alone and dispose of you himself. He appears to understand your thought process, because he scoffs loudly and holds his hand out for the spear.

“If I really wanted you dead, I could’ve done it in the car—or better yet, let your friends take care of you. Just hand it over.”

“Mm, I think not. I don’t think you’d want to get blood on your pretty leather seats.” Still, you give him the spear, if a bit reluctantly. You don’t know what he does with it, but he takes it into another room and tells you to wait in the hall. When he returns, it’s gone.

Baekhyun leads you to a clean and unoccupied guest room. It’s large, with floor-to-ceiling windows that give an expansive view of the city below. It’s also nicely decorated, much like one of Upper Tokyo’s many upscale hotels, but it seems like it hasn’t seen a warm body in months. There’s a certain lack of warmth to it. “Don’t get many visitors?”

“Now is not the best time to make jokes about me filling my perpetual loneliness with frequent trips to your club, if that’s what you’re attempting to lead up to.” He steps through another door, which you find out leads to the bathroom. “Everything you need should already be here—except clothes. I’ll get those in a moment.”

“Right,” you mumble, your eyes carefully tracing over everything in the bathroom. You know your skeptical behavior is probably pissing him off at this point, but distrust has long become an inherent feature of yours. You’ll keep this act up if you know it’ll get under his skin.

The hot water in this shower doesn’t run out after five minutes like the one back home. You can’t shake the old habit, though, and you wash yourself as quickly as you can, body tensed with adrenaline as you expectantly wait for the warm flow to stop after the five minutes are up. When that doesn’t happen, your muscles relax a little. Though it feels good, you don’t know if you’ll get used to this any time soon.

The clothes he lays out for you on the bed are plain and black, but still better quality than what you’re used to seeing and wearing. Soft on your skin. Smell good. You wonder where he’s went off to—maybe to wash up and patch up his wounds, if he has any sense. You also wonder if you should try exploring his place, but you feel like that’ll be risky; he has too much advanced technology around here that would probably find a way to kick you out of the penthouse window at the first sign of nefarious activity.

...Which is how you end up merely sitting on the bed and waiting to see what will happen next. But not before checking the entire room for any signs of surveillance tech or something else foreboding. This is also when you make the joyous discovery that your phone is missing, and you reason it must’ve fallen out of your pocket in the earlier clash; you know you had it when you first met up with Baekhyun. That pisses you off, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. Though you feel disconcertingly cut off from the outside world without it, who would you even contact anymore? One of the others, who’d probably try to track you down and enact a cold, hard revenge for you blowing up the plan? Lockjaw’s face flashes into your mind, along with the other scalding looks you received the night of the planning, and you shudder slightly.

When Baekhyun comes back to your room—and you’re almost surprised that he does—he looks significantly smaller in presence without his all-black clothes, glittering face chains, and heavy makeup.

Indeed, the man standing in front of you with damp hair, baggy pajamas, and bandaged hands doesn’t seem like the same suave person from the club at all.

“So now what?” you say, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugs. “Well, if you’re going to be living here, you need a tour.”

Living with Baekhyun isn’t quite what you expected it to be. He’s home more often than you’d think, for one. You would’ve thought he’d always be in business meetings or off somewhere finding more luxury goods to buy or just doing whatever. You can’t really get mad at him for being in his own home, but you try to keep space between the two of you. With your own designated spaces, it’s not hard to do this, which you are at least marginally glad about.

Trying to deal with Baekhyun while completely sober isn’t your idea of a walk in the park. Despite yourself, you wish you could go back to the club even once; Baekhyun certainly won’t let you drink up all his liquor, nor will he tell you where he’s hidden it. For your own good, he claims. Sure.

To your surprise and slight relief, he doesn’t ply you for any more details about your arm, though you’ve definitely caught him running his eyes across it more than once—studying it like words on a page. Whatever’s spinning around in that mind of his, you can only guess. His lingering interest only makes you think he’s scheming for a way to take the arm off you when you’re sleeping or equally vulnerable, though, so you remain guarded around him.

“One day, you’ll have to understand that I’m not the evil villain you think I am,” he tells you. He regards your attempts to avoid him with a certain bored amusement, like how one might think of a particularly entertaining pet cat.

You let the steam of the food you’re cooking billow up across your face, making your eyes water from the slightly-too-warm heat before answering. Leave it to him to bother you during one of the times when you can get some undisturbed, Baekhyun-free peace. “Maybe you should stop dressing up as one whenever you go out, then.”

He chuckles. “It’s like you’ve made it your personal mission to throw verbal stabs at me whenever possible.”

You shrug. “I have to do something to pass the time here.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “You could do that just by having a normal conversation with me.”

You cross your arms, looking at him from where he stands at the kitchen island. He’s in his dressed-down form now, sans eyeliner and jewelry.

His kitchen is not like any other you’ve encountered, fully equipped with the capabilities to make every single one of his meals by itself—and order more ingredients whenever necessary. It’s undoubtedly convenient. But you often still like to make food of your own, just so you don’t have to feel so...dependent on him for every little thing. “About what?”

“About who you are. What you like. What you dream about—I don’t know, something.”

“What I dream about.” You make a noise of disbelief. “How can you waste time on dreams when you live the life I do? I just focus on trying to survive. That’s it.”

Baekhyun opens his mouth automatically like he’ll say something, but he pauses as if he’s just absorbed the full weight of your words. Suddenly, there’s a certain sadness pooling in his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth, and you hate it—intensely. You don’t want his pity or sympathy. And yet, he’s already given it to you by letting you live in his home.

“Before you say something pathetic, just don’t,” you blurt out, wanting to stop him before he can start. “You want to talk? My favorite color is green, and my favorite food—alcohol. I have an arm made of fucking titanium, the club was my main hangout spot, and I hate entitled people. Talk about that.”

Baekhyun’s sympathy evaporates into an unimpressed expression, lost just as quickly as a whisper on the wind. “Closing the door again, I see. Alright. Have it your way.” He leaves the room then, giving his back to you and shutting you out similar to how you just did to him.

This should be what you wanted. But it only makes you feel oddly unsatisfied.

“Here.” Baekhyun slides something across the table towards you after dinner one day—another dinner where you sit on opposite ends of the table and where you try to ignore his existence. You instantly recognize the small, glistening package as a cellphone, though it’s a model much more advanced than you could’ve afforded.

You look up at him as he stands in front of you, one of his hands shoved into the pocket of his black pants. “...What are you doing?”

“Giving you something to communicate with so you don’t feel like some princess stuck in a glass castle.” You roll your eyes at that. “I’m not sure who you’d talk to since all your friends do hate you, but the thought counts. And everyone needs a phone.”

You sit forward to look at the phone in its packaging, tracing your metal fingers against the surface. The sensation circling around in your stomach is an odd one. “Please don’t tell me that you hosting me in your penthouse was just an easy way to get a sugar baby.”

Baekhyun looks slightly flustered at that accusation, and you’re gleefully, childishly pleased about taking him off guard. His surprise is quickly replaced with a shit-eating grin, though. “It’s nothing like that; I could’ve already had that kind of arrangement 100 times over.” His tone suggests that he has, which sends a chill crawling up your spine. But maybe not 100 times over. “I did it to help you out. But if thinking of it that way gets you off, be my guest.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Byun,” you say, taking the phone out gingerly. It’s a lightweight thing, looking like it might dissolve if you look at it too hard. Its screen is clear raised glass—which you assume will project out the hologram technology this phone is inevitably equipped with—and has silver backing. It’s a piece of work. Though it appears fragile, you know it’s sturdier than that—or it wouldn’t be such a popular model as it is now. “It’s...nice, though.”

Baekhyun waves his hand noncommittally. “I wouldn’t settle for anything less—even if it’s for someone as eternally pissed-off as you.” You bite your lip against the rebuttal that wants to come rolling out, instead preoccupying yourself with figuring out the controls on this thing. Which takes an embarrassingly long moment. Baekhyun watches you for the duration of it, biting his own lip against the urge to laugh at the frustrated furrow between your brows and the crinkling of your nose. Really, the phone looks like a thin sheet of metal with a slice of glass over it; how are you supposed to operate this? Eventually, he says, “There’s a button on the bottom that activates it...you have to press that.”

“Right, clearly.” You try to rid yourself of your embarrassment as you turn the thing on, but even as Baekhyun leaves the room you can hear his chains clinking together as he laughs silently at your confusion.

As if your life could not get any more chaotic, your metal arm begins malfunctioning.

The metal is not as flexible as it was just a few days before, and it gives you a hard time whenever you try to do simple maneuvers. Your arm is overtaken by a sensation that feels like nerve damage with how the entire limb and shoulder tingle and burn from wires that no longer want to do as they’re told. You’re not entirely sure what’s wrong with it—a good oiling could usually fix any stiffness when necessary, but this nervy feeling is new.

For a while, you try to hide it from Baekhyun, which feels kind of ridiculous even to you. You’re only hurting yourself more, but you are a little too prideful to give him the pleasure of inspecting your arm like he’d always wanted to from the start. You don’t want to be his science experiment.

However, it comes to a point when you must ask for help when your arm stops working entirely.

You wake up to this terrible realization. After another morning of having gotten only a little sleep the night before, something immediately feels wrong. Your arm is dead weight beside you. When you try to sit up, it doesn’t respond to your movements. You can only feel the painful tug on the flesh part of your shoulder where the weight of the metal pulls at it, and you groan in pain and annoyance.

You support your arm with your other hand to prevent the tugging, which quickly gets exhausting and annoying as you try to go through the morning motions. You can’t keep this up while washing, so by the time you get out of the shower, your shoulder is killing you from where the arm dangles.

When you get to the common room, Baekhyun isn’t there. He isn’t anywhere else in his penthouse, either. You don’t even know how long he’s been gone. When you bring yourself to finally call his number, you bitterly remember that you still don’t have it saved in your phone. You want to scream in irritation. You can’t leave to go look for him—yeah, right—or get help from anyone else, either, because of the fingerprint recognition on his apartment entrance. Now that you think about it, you are like a princess in a glass castle here. That reawakens another bout of anger in you. Safe haven or cage?

Baekhyun appears an hour or two later—you’re not totally certain, having refused to expend the strength to move from your current spot to check the time—wearing his usual getup. You don’t know if you should be relieved, but an emotion similar to that sweeps through you despite your lingering apprehension and dislike.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. His eyebrows crease when he sees you splayed across his couch, your metal arm propped up on the couch back.

Don’t be combative, you think to yourself. But it’s like an impulse; you can’t stop yourself. “Why do you immediately assume something’s wrong?”

“You’ve never been so casual,” he gestures to your posture, “around me or in my place before, so I’m trying to figure out if your brain has been infected by cyber bugs or something. Because if we need to quarantine, then—”

“Well, you’re not totally wrong for once.” You struggle to sit up, your movements stiff, and your arm slides off the couch back and slumps limply to your side. Baekhyun's eyebrows shoot towards his hairline at that, and he looks at you questioningly, stepping closer to you.

“What happened to your arm?”

“Don’t even fucking know…it’s been feeling weird for a week.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

You look up at him, cynicism coloring your expression. “I’m sure you can take a wild guess.”

He gives the familiar sigh-and-eye-roll combo, like he’s done probably a hundred times since he’s met you. “Yeah, I can.” He waves his hand. “No matter. I’m calling Yosuke.”

“Who’s Yosuke?” You turn to watch Baekhyun retreat—probably to his bedroom or office. He turns back to you momentarily.

“Someone who can fix your arm.”

—

Yosuke turns out to be a man around the same age as Baekhyun—a big contrast to the older, wizened cyberneticist you’d pictured in your mind. He and Baekhyun act overly familiar with each other, apparently being long-time friends since their younger years.

There is no difference in how he treats you and Baekhyun, which is another thing you didn’t quite expect. He is clearly wealthy like Baekhyun, coming in with a nice suit and expensive jewelry and a suitcase full of more tools than you’ve even seen before, but he doesn’t have the haughty rich man aura. That makes you feel a little more comfortable, and you are glad that Baekhyun let you have some privacy with this and left the lab for the actual procedure. Even if it meant he didn’t get his wish of poring over your arm’s wiring like some kind of cybernetics kinkster.

To your relief, the fix is simple enough. The implanted electrodes in your shoulder that help send signals between your brain’s neurons and the artificial nerves have failed, but those are relatively simple to replace.

“Shitty tech, I guess,” you mumble, casting a displeased look at your arm. You aren’t sure why, but you feel embarrassed about it failing on you. Maybe you just thought it’d be reliable forever. “I got it as part of an experimental research program, so it was probably never going to be the most dependable thing anyway…”

“Hm.” Yosuke smiles. “Maybe not, but it’s still an extraordinary piece of work—especially in this early form. Some of these mechanisms are new even to me. Was that the 2110 Tokyo trial, by chance?”

You nod, though you feel a tiny bit less relaxed with knowing that even Yosuke doesn’t recognize all the intricacies of your limb. Hopefully you’ll still walk out in one piece. “Yeah, the very one.”

“Excellent work,” he reiterates. “It was an early research trial, but still yielded some of the most functional and human-like large-scale cybernetics of the last few years. You could’ve done a lot worse. Maybe you already know that, though.”

“Maybe,” you repeat quietly, but you are mostly speaking to yourself now.

—

After the electrode replacement is done in Baekhyun’s home lab, you can finally feel your arm like normal again. Yosuke does a few sensory feedback and dexterity tests to make sure your arm can function as it should, and he promises to come back the next day for another round just to be sure.

You almost don’t want Yosuke to go when he finally does pack up to leave. It feels nice to be around someone who doesn’t inspire some wretched, nonsensical anger in you.

Baekhyun slips back into the lab after Yosuke leaves, and you glance up from your arm at his arrival. He looks at your bandaged shoulder and watches appreciatively as you flex your metal fingers. “All good now?”

“It’s fine,” you mumble. “Thanks.” Saying that word to him is not easy, but you relent, figuring you should at least give him that much. “You should be thanking the gods you don’t have to go through this kinda shit.”

“Really.” It’s not a question, the way he says it. It’s filled with sarcasm. Baekhyun reaches down and rolls up his left pant leg, his chains hanging as he does, and you recoil, confused. Why the fuck is he showing you his bare leg?

“It’s cybernetic,” he says, barely concealed pride in his voice. “You can’t even tell, the work is so good.” Something like jealousy and anger stirs in your chest. Even if you had wanted to tuck those emotions back in, they’ve escaped from the cage now and are intent on running rampant.

“So. Byun Baekhyun is part-metalhead, after all?” You slide off the surgical chair you were sitting in for Yosuke’s procedure, coming to stand a couple feet in front of Baekhyun. You look down at his leg—which, for all intents and purposes, looks like a completely flesh-and-blood limb. “You joker. Quit fuckin’ around.”

“It’s not a lie.” He knows you won’t believe him, so he taps a spot behind his ankle twice. A long, thin panel that stretches from just above his ankle to his upper thigh opens on his leg, exposing the wiring and metal within. You can’t school your expression in time, and your mouth drops. “Incredible, right? Custom-made. So, yes…I do have an idea what it’s like.”

“Custom-made, huh.” You bite your lip so hard you think it might bleed. “Unbelievable. You’re the kind of person who does these things because you want to, because you can, not because your survival hinges on it. You must truly think you’re special.” The words come hurtling past your lips like venom.

“I didn’t choose this on a whim,” Baekhyun argues, straightening up to face you and letting his pant leg back down. The look on his face says his patience has finally run out, presumably tired of you throwing insult after insult at him since you’ve been in his home. “You don’t know anything about me other than what you’ve seen and heard on screens and from others. I’ve tried to get familiar with you. You reject it at every turn.”

“I don’t want to ‘get familiar’ with someone who gets custom cybernetics that cost hundreds of thousands just because they fuckin’ felt like it, while the rest of us have to do it just to get enough money to live for maybe a year on.” You’re gritting your teeth so hard that your jaw feels like it might crack.

Baekhyun steps closer to you, diminishing the space between you further. His eyes burn with animosity. “I was in a car accident, Y/N. I was just a teenager. No one even knows this but the people closest to me, and I don’t want anyone else to know it. I lost my leg and nearly my life with it. Before you start preaching to me about choices versus survival, realize that you aren’t the only fucking person in the world who’s ever had to do what was needed to survive.”

Your breath catches. You feel like the wind has been knocked out of you. Suddenly, all the fight drains from your system, and you are left feeling deflated and cold. His blazing eyes feel like two bullets trained on you, and your gaze falters.

Baekhyun doesn’t wait to see if you’ll have another response lined up for him; he turns heel and stalks out of the room.

As promised, Yosuke returns the next day for your additional tests. Your conversation with him isn’t as enjoyable as it could be. You are still reeling from Baekhyun’s revelation and unsure how to approach him. Neither of you spoke to each other for the rest of that night, instead choosing to actively avoid each other. You know you can’t keep this game up forever, though.

“Baekhyun’s in a sour mood today,” Yosuke remarks. “Rare for him. Any idea why?”

You shake your head, worrying your lower lip with your teeth. “Mmm...no.”

The slight smile on Yosuke’s face tells you he doesn’t believe you. “Well...I’m sure you two will figure it out sooner or later. He seems to have an affinity for you.”

“What?”

“He was pretty concerned when he contacted me about your arm. He’s mentioned you before then, too. He seems fascinated by you.”

You purse your lips together. You remember his days of annoying flirting in the club, which feel so far away now, and how he’d come to you with a bunch of flowery words and told you he’d taken a liking to you. Perhaps he was really telling the truth about that. You wonder if he possibly mentioned the attempted mugging to Yosuke, and you cough nervously.

“Well, he’s…” you wave your flesh hand, “...a character.”

Yosuke chuckles. “You two seem kind of fitting, I don’t know why. Similar love for recklessness, maybe—from how he describes you, anyway. Like peas in a pod.”

Fitting? Peas in a damn pod? The next words come thoughtlessly rushing out of you in an effort to change his mind and slap away whatever outlandish idea he has of you and the other man. “I don’t want Baekhyun.”

Yosuke raises an eyebrow, though he keeps his gaze on your arm as he watches the movements of your metallic fingers for any irregularities. “I never said you did, Y/N.”

In your haste, it occurs to you that maybe Yosuke really was just referring to your similarities—which you’ll continue to vehemently deny—rather than suggesting any deeper connection. Though that’s what it sounded like to you. Fuck. You don’t know anymore.

Is this what they’d call a Freudian slip, then? How wonderful. You rub your temples with your free hand and shake your head. “Then let’s just forget the last few minutes of this conversation.”

Yosuke smiles. “Whatever you’d like to do.”

—

Yosuke leaves soon after he’s finished testing your arm, but he reassures you that you can see each other again if you feel like having the company—just have Baekhyun arrange things.

Speaking of Baekhyun. You should probably say something to him. You’re not enthusiastic about puttering around his home feeling even more awkward than you did when you first arrived there. So, you walk to his office and knock on the door, turning your ear to it to see if he’ll give a response. You don’t have to wait to hear one, though, because the door panel slides back on its own.

You’ve never been in his office before, though you knew where it was—it was one of the places he decided not to show you on his little house tour—but it’s just as obnoxiously streamlined and full of tech as every other part of his home. Baekhyun sits behind his desk, elbows propped on its surface and fingers crossed together.

“Y/N.” His voice holds none of the playfulness, casualness, or even cool sarcasm you’ve heard from him before.

You step a few feet forward into his office. You feel like you’re standing underneath a spotlight, lit up for the entirety of the world to see. In reality, it’s just you and him here—Byun Baekhyun, one of the richest men in Japan.

He stays silent, presumably waiting for you to speak first. That is what you came here for, so you do, even if it makes you feel like you’re going to peel out of your skin.

“I was a dick. I’m sorry.”

Baekhyun blinks. “An apology? From you? The world must be ending.”

“I’m trying to be serious here, Byun.” You sigh. “I was...wrong to assume what I did about you. I guess...I don’t really know anything about you...but. I felt like I had you all figured out already. So, I’m sorry.”

The tension in Baekhyun’s shoulders releases, if only a little. His expression shifts into something not quite as impenetrable as it was just a few moments ago, but not completely open, either. “Apology accepted, then.”

“Thanks.” You shove your hands into your pockets. “Well, I thought...if I’m not to make any more assumptions about you, I should probably get to know more about you?”

Baekhyun looks interested now, and he releases his hands from their formerly tense position. He leans forward slightly. “Then I should do the same with you.”

Your hackles raise, despite you trying to keep yourself more open-minded. “I...don’t want to. You know enough already.”

Exasperated, Baekhyun spreads his hands out in front of him. “Here we go again. What are you so afraid of? And why even ask me about myself if you don’t want to share anything about you?”

“You can think of it as gathering intel—not making friends. I’m not asking you about your life story so we can have picnics together and talk about our wildest dreams.”

Baekhyun scoffs in disbelief. “When are you ever going to be honest with yourself? Emotional constipation isn’t a good look for you.”

“Honest with myself about what?”

“You are attracted to me. You are interested in me beyond supposedly gathering intel. And for some reason I can’t conceive, it enrages you.” The words come off his lips with the trace of a smirk, and though they make your skin prickle with heat, his smirk makes you want to jump across the desk and land one good punch on him.

You snort. “You’re a piece of work. Attracted to you? Everyone doesn’t throw themselves at the first person with a whiff of money or notoriety.”

Baekhyun gets up from his desk to step closer to you, much like he did the other day. He’s close enough for you to count the moles on his face, barely noticeable except for when he’s at this proximity. His cologne wraps its scented arms around you and pulls you in. You didn’t notice it as acutely yesterday, too embroiled in the argument and trying to process what he revealed to you, but now it hits you full on. How is this not considered some kind of olfactory warfare?

“Then tell me you don’t want me.” He whispers it to you in that same stupid, silky voice he’d always used in the club. That voice, combined with his scent, transports you straight back to that environment—the pungent taste of alcohol, the blinding neon lights, the ear-splitting music. And the one man who you just can’t figure out.

You open your mouth only slightly, afraid to breathe in more of his fragrance and lose yourself to it like a fool. “Fuck you.”

“That’s not an answer.” Baekhyun’s voice remains in the same low whisper, and he grins like he already knows the truth. “But I can do that, if you’d like.”

It doesn’t take much effort for him to close the rest of the space between you. When he kisses you, you don’t slap him, stomp on his foot, or knee him in the balls like you might’ve thought you would. Instead, you kiss him back—gradually, tentatively, but your lips fall into a rhythm with each other’s.

His lip piercing is unyielding on your skin; the edges of it press into your lip. The kiss is not rough or even frantic. You think this all might’ve been easier if it was—easier to allow yourself to keep hating him so intensely and channel that energy into your actions. However, all your previous thoughts of knocking his head off or pulling his lip ring off fall away; you just allow yourself to exist solely in this moment and absorb the feeling of his lips on yours.

Maybe now you could allow yourself to admit—internally, at least—that yes...you did want this. You wanted it from the first ridiculous time you met him in the club, and when he put his insolent hand on your shoulder. Whispered into your ear like he knew exactly what effect it was going to have.

Baekhyun’s bedroom—the one other place he hadn’t shown you besides his office—is neatly arranged and smells entirely like him. Other than those base things, you don’t care what the rest of the room is like. When you both somehow make it there, Baekhyun backs you up onto the bed, his lips still attached to yours.

The weight of his body is solid on yours. His tongue nudging against your lips and asking for entrance makes your body flush with heat. Before you can get fully invested, you pull away. He looks at you questioningly.

“Take this off,” you mutter, pushing his face chains away from you. He laughs lowly, pulling away from you to take his piercing out and put the chains away.

Pulling your clothes off comes naturally; it doesn’t feel clumsy and stilted like it did the last time you slept with someone. Baekhyun’s hands flit over every inch of newly exposed skin he can access.

The way Baekhyun touches your metal arm is reverent, worshipful, and you hadn’t realized how much you needed this—this kind of unabashed admiration—until it happened. No one has ever touched your metal arm in a way that wasn’t clinical or otherwise similarly detached. His fingers glide across it like it’s still made of skin and blood and bone, and he kisses the length of it, up to your neck and all the way back down to your metallic fingers again.

Water beads at the corners of your eyes. You try to ignore it. You don’t even acknowledge the few tears that do slip out, sliding towards your ears from your supine position.

Baekhyun lifts himself to be level with your face again. You turn away from him, too afraid to see whatever emotion will be lying in his eyes—not wanting to reveal the full magnitude of your vulnerability to him—but you don’t say a word when he presses his lips against the tear tracks on your skin.

Funnily, ironically, every motion comes instinctively. Him rocking against you, his heavy, dark breaths echoing in your ears, his long and low moans—your lips searching for his, your teeth creating blooming bruises on his skin. Though you have pushed him away and dismissed his proffered company at every opportunity, this intimacy feels like a grand coming-together—something that was bound to happen at the end of every road.

—

The sheets are twisted, the sweat is cooling on your skin, and you are both tired but satisfied. Content in a way that neither of you have truly been in a long time. You rest your head on Baekhyun’s chest, closing your eyes and listening to him breathe underneath you, the metal of your arm still warm from the heat of his skin.

“I could give you an upgrade.”

Your mouth twitches. You think you might have imagined the words, so you stay silent for a while longer until Baekhyun nudges your arm, checking if you’ve already fallen asleep.

“Upgrade?”

“Your arm. I could...have a new arm built. One like my leg.”

You sit up to look at him, the sheets falling from your body. “Don’t say pretty things you think I want to hear just because you’re still in the post-orgasm haze.”

Baekhyun blows air out of his nose, too tired to properly argue or even scoff at you. “Like I said before, I don’t waste time saying things I don’t mean.” His voice quiets. “We both know you can’t get your limb back, but...I could...give you something to help, at least. It’s...easier to deal with the cybernetics when they actually look like they belong on your body.” You know he speaks from experience there, by the way his gaze falters and drops to his lap.

“To feel more like a human again, huh.” Some part of you—multiple parts of you, maybe—had still been grieving over the arm you’d given up almost two years ago. Maybe it was a silly thing to be hurt over compared to the many other problems in your world, but it was difficult to stop feeling like you’d sold away a portion of yourself for nothing. Nothing but fleeting money.

Baekhyun’s offer stirs something in you. You turn your body away from him, feeling the tingle in your nose and eyes again that could only signal one thing. “Stop doing this. Being so...I don’t know, forgiving. Not after all I’ve done and said to you.”

Baekhyun sits up then, resting his hands on your arms. “I want to do this for you. Stop acting like you don’t deserve anything good in the world.”

You turn back to face him after a long moment, though the tears still linger in your eyes. “I don’t want to be the only one who benefits.” You shake your head slowly. “If you really agree to give me a new arm...you have more than enough resources to help change the nightmare Lower Tokyo has become. Help them. Help us. I don’t want to be some one-off experiment or pet project you discard once you’ve gotten your fill—some broken bitch from Lower Tokyo you think you can fix and turn into one of your family’s many success stories.”

Baekhyun is breathless from your admission; this is the most transparent you’ve been with him since you’ve met. Though part of him wants to shrivel back from your words, he clings to your long-awaited honesty, even if it is only shared with him to rebuke him and his family’s selfishly opulent ways. He thinks of why you pushed so hard against him trying to make a personal domain of Lower Tokyo, leaving the comforts of his own place to absorb the shadows of yours, and a better understanding of your rejection begins to dawn in his mind. Tentatively, he brings one of his hands from your arm to your cheek, thinking you might still wince away from him, but you don’t move.

“You’re right.” His voice is tight with the knowledge of it. “I can help, Y/N. You, and everyone else. I mean—I will. If there is one thing you can trust me on…let it be this.”

You stare into his dark brown eyes, trying to hunt for any signs of dishonesty, though you find none. There is only the heat of his hand on your face, and his open, yielding expression. “I will hold you to that, Byun Baekhyun.”

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Best Kept Secrets (Part One)

Based on this request: “Wanda and the reader are married and the reader mom is Agatha but the reader does not know that...Then Agatha watches the reader having a good time with her family and Agatha is happy but sad because we get another flashback of the reader snapping their finger in order to destroy thanos and his army.”

masterlist / part two

Lights flick on in the studio. Cameras start rolling. Title cards disappear, show is live.

Wanda sits on the sofa, legs folded primly in front of her. Her best friend, Agnes, is seated one cushion over, arm flung over the back of the couch, similar to Wanda in excitement but less so in decorum. Classic, charming 1950s dresses are resplendent on both; Wanda’s is plain, Agnes’ checkered. The scene is set, the black and white filter flickering over them both.

The friends are in mid-conversation when Agnes stops suddenly to point at a ring on the other woman’s hand. “Why, Wanda, I didn’t realize you were married! Who’s the lucky sucker, and how come I haven’t met them yet?” Wanda holds out her hand, and both of them admire the shiny band on her finger. “Their name is Y/N, and you don’t know because we were only married recently. The ceremony was just a short while ago, but I feel like I’ve known them all my life.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Wanda flies from her seat, hurrying over to answer. “In fact, I think that will be them right there. Oh, this is swell- I’d been hoping the two of you would meet.” Wanda opens the door to reveal her spouse, sporting 1950s attire as well, a briefcase clasped loosely in one hand. Y/N leans over to kiss their wife, then glances over at Agnes, who has risen to her feet, a somewhat stunned expression on her face.

“I see we have a guest! I don’t believe we’ve yet been introduced, my name is Y/N.” Y/N holds out their hand to Agnes, who shakes it after a second. “Agnes, dear, I’m Agnes.” The neighbour glances over at Y/N’s clothes, then flashes a cheery grin. “I love your fashion sense, honey! You’ve got to tell me where you got those slacks.” Y/N laughs. “Odds and ends from around town. I saw this purple shirt and I just couldn’t resist picking it up. I think purple’s got to be my favorite color.”

Agnes' smile twists slightly, as if thinking about an inside joke that only she happens to know. “It’s my favorite color too, dear. Looks like we have that in common.” Y/N smiles at that. “I’m afraid I’m rather late to meeting you, though. I have work in the city, which ran a little overtime.” Wanda, after taking Y/N’s coat, rejoins the two newly formed friends. “Y/N’s magic at computing. Magic’s just the right word for her, actually.”

Y/N flinches at that, turning to Wanda with a frozen smile. “Wanda, honey, I thought we weren’t supposed to be bringing that up.” Wanda just waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it-Agnes already knows everything about me. She won’t be worried by a few things that are out of the ordinary.” Y/N visibly relaxes. “That’s good to hear.” Y/N faces Agnes once more, smiling. “If you know about Wanda’s magic, then I’m assuming you’ll know about mine. I’m still not sure when to tell people or not. I don’t want a whole Salem Witch Trial on my hands, you know? That could get kind of messy.”

Agnes grimaces. “You have no idea.” A faint ripple of laughter cascades down from the audience, and Y/N smiles fondly at Wanda. “That’s part of how we met, actually. We both have similar abilities, except she’s in red and I’m in purple. It certainly helped bring us together- I don’t think anyone can really understand everything about me except her.” Agnes clasps her hands together. “That’s just darling, honestly. You two are the cutest.”

Camera zooms out on the scene, screen fades to black.

Agatha walks out of the house while Wanda is busy setting up the next scene. There’s no way Y/N could be- absolutely no way. But there are too many similarities between herself and Y/N for a coincidence- the purple, the magic, the resemblance? It couldn’t possibly be true, but yet, Agatha still has a dawning realization that Y/N could maybe, possibly, just be-

Scene opens to a new episode. The audience cheers, action!

Y/N stands, holding their young son Billy in their arms as he carefully tapes the last edge of a banner to the wall. Y/N adjusts their grip slightly, Billy’s shoes several feet above the ground so he can properly affix the banner. There’s a whooshing sound from behind them, and Y/N glances over to see their other son, Tommy, just arriving in the room. He flashes a thumbs-up and a big grin to his parent. “Everything is set. We’re ready to go!”

Y/N smiles, putting Billy back down on the ground once the banner is secure. Billy gestures excitedly to Tommy, who pulls a card out from behind his back. “We made this for you!” The boys say, identical broad grins stretching across their faces. Y/N beams at them, flipping open the card to read the message inside. “Aw, you guys are the cutest! Thank you so much!”

There’s a sound from the staircase, and all attention is instantly diverted away from the card and to Wanda, who is descending from the upper floor. She begins to enter the room. “What’s all this noise I’ve been hearing?” Wanda freezes in her tracks, taking in the room, the banner, the decorations. Billy and Tommy run up to her, shouting “Happy Mother’s Day!” to their mother and wrapping their arms around her. Wanda laughs, glancing around her with a look of awe. “You put all of this together?”

Tommy smiles exuberantly. “Well, Y/N helped us too.” Wanda nods understanding, gaze cutting across the room to her spouse. “That doesn’t surprise me.” Y/N laughs, leaning over the boys to kiss Wanda. “It was an important occasion.” Wanda grins, then her voice drops to a whisper. “Have you really been up decorating with them since early this morning?” Y/N’s eyes widen in exhaustion. “Yes. I’m going to bed at 5 tonight to make up for it.” Wanda grins. “You’re the best.”

Already, the twins are tugging at Wanda’s sleeve, pulling her over to the semi-edible breakfast they’ve prepared. Y/N watches them go, but once all eyes are off of them their grin fades away and they stand alone, looking on in melancholy. Once Y/N’s sure their family isn’t watching, Y/N slips away, out of the house through a door out back. They walk into the backyard, breathing in the refreshing air of morning.

However, it doesn’t look like they’ll be alone today. There’s a shout of greeting from the sidewalk, and Agnes starts to walk over to them, but her friendly grin drops when she sees the look on Y/N’s face. “You alright, dear?” Y/N sighs, looking away. “I should be fine, it’s just-” They break off, hesitating a few times before continuing on. “When I was very young, my mother left. My father was already out of the picture, and it was just us until, well, it wasn’t. It was one thing to have to learn how to take care of yourself when you’re so small, and it was a whole lot worse when I had to figure out all this.” Their voice drops off as they hold up a hand, purple sparks and streaks flying around their fingers.

“I was scared and alone and I had no idea how to control my magic. All I knew was that my mother abandoned me, probably because of all this.” Agnes’ face drops, and she looks shattered. “Oh, honey, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” Y/N laughs bitterly. “It’s alright. Sorry to burden you with all of this so early in the morning, it was just strange seeing the boys so excited about Mother’s Day and all that. I was wondering why I didn’t have any memories like that with my mom or if I should be calling her and then I remembered.”

Agnes sighs in sad sympathy. “Well, I don’t know if this will do anything, but if it makes you feel better you can consider me your mother for now. I know it doesn’t solve anything but at least you’ve got me, you know?” Y/N smiles ruefully at that, glancing over at the dark-haired woman. “Thank you, actually. It means more than you’d think.” Y/N laughs quietly. “In that case, I think I should give you this. The boys found it from the highest quality of Hallmarks.” Y/N pulls the slightly bent card out of her pocket, and hands it over to Agnes.

Agnes laughs. “I’ll treasure it.” Y/N laughs as well. “Well, I’d better get back inside.” They start to head back over to the door, and then turn back to face their neighbour once more. “Oh, and Agatha? Thank you.” With that, they disappear through the door. Agnes stands alone in the backyard, suddenly frantic. “Wait- how did you know-that’s not my name- how did you-?”

Cameras cut to black. Ad break begins.

Agatha feels sick to her stomach. Seeing Y/N so hurt, so sad over the disappearance of their mother? It was strange seeing them like that- Y/N was always happy, always smiling, always there. Yet in the flash of an eye, their guard had come down, revealing the person within, who was far more battered and broken than Agatha could have thought. And then Y/N said Agatha’s real name-

She doesn’t know what to think. As she crosses back over the road to her house, Agatha’s head is spinning. She doesn’t want to go back to that time, to revisit that memory, but the scene is already building before her eyes. It happened many years ago, but Agatha can still see it as plain as day.

Agatha stands in the center of the witch coven, one she’d found only recently. She’d been hoping for another group of women to teach her power and control, but it had been a mistake. She can see that now, see it in the way they stand and why they’ve come. Agatha’s voice is raw with begging and pleading.

“Please, no! You can’t take my child! I’ll do anything- leave, use my power for you, anything. Just don’t take them. They’re just a child! They won’t know how to survive!” The coven shakes their heads, and the leader steps forward. Agatha shrinks away, but the witch still approaches. The leader casts a spell, one that freezes Agatha in place. The woman draws closer, takes the bundle wrapped in blankets from Agatha’s arms. The witch stares at the bundle, at the face of the child inside. “You knew the rules. They cannot be broken.”

The witch walks away. The coven melts away to follow her, and they all disappear into the night. Agatha isn’t sure when the immobility spell breaks, or if it matters at all- she couldn’t move an inch if she tried. All Agatha can think about is the child that has been ripped from her grasp, the child she was just beginning to raise as her own.

Y/N. That was the child’s name. That was the child Agatha could have had, and the child that is now gone from her forever.

Agatha’s eyes snap shut, sealing her away from the world around her. She can’t think about this anymore. She gestures idly, sending out a magical message to the show. Continue on with the episode, further the plot. Anything to distract Agnes from the pain of the past.

Return from the ad break. Scene opens with an overhead shot of the city. B-Roll is being filmed for the title sequence.

Agatha stands from a distance, watching the figures before her. Y/N and Wanda have decided on a picnic, something cute where they can bring their children along. It was a good move on Wanda’s part- they’re not saying any important lines, and park picnics are always adorable and simplistic enough to make excellent material for her next title sequence. Y/N has recovered from the memories of their past with their mother. Agatha wishes she could move on as easily, although she has a feeling that Wanda took note of her spouse’s unhappiness and wished it away in the changing of the decades.

Y/N is laughing now at a joke one of their children told them. It was a terrible joke, certainly, barely makes any sense, but that doesn’t matter because it’s a beautiful day and Y/N is happily content here with their family. Y/N reaches over to muss up the hair on Tommy’s head as the boy attempts to use his super speed on a Rubik’s Cube. Wanda hands them a sandwich, and Y/N kisses her lightly on the cheek as a thank-you. They look so happy here, so peaceful. It’s hard to imagine that it’s all happening within Wanda’s barrier, that all of this is only happening because Wanda called it up.

Y/N kneels on the red and white checked cloth of the picnic blanket, reaching for a water bottle. It’s an innocent scene, perfectly charming and everything, but Agatha flinches just for a second. It’s that movement right there, Y/N kneeling and their right arm raised in front of them. It reminds Agatha of something she saw in Wanda’s head, when she was searching for a reason as to how Wanda conjured up this entire place. Agatha winces, trying desperately to stem the flood of memory, but it’s no use. The moment is called up before her anyway.

The battleground is desolate, armies of heroes and alien mercenaries clashing all around. The sky is dark with dust and debris. Tony Stark, or the famous human hero Iron Man, sees the Infinity Gauntlet torn from Thanos’ mighty fist and begins to lunge for it, but he’s stopped by another figure, who holds out an arm to block him. Tony turns, sees a familiar face. Y/N shakes their head. “I’m not letting you do this. You have a family who needs you.” Tony puts a hand on their shoulder. “You can’t do it either. You have a life in front of you.” Y/N smiles, though it is sad and broken at the thought of the life they’re about to give up. “There are people depending on you. Tell Wanda I love her.”

With that, the witch sprints away, meeting Thanos at the gauntlet just in time to be knocked aside to the ground with a blow that shakes the earth, a blow that would have killed anyone who didn’t have Y/N’s power. The other Avengers charge Thanos again, desperately trying to fight for a world where Y/N won’t have to make the sacrifice they know is coming. It doesn’t matter. Thanos still rises, still strides towards the gauntlet.

The Mad Titan slips the gauntlet onto his hand, grimacing in agony as the power rushes over him. There’s a silence on the battlefield. Y/N claws their way out of the cracked ground around them, stands and locks gaze with the Sorcerer Supreme, who holds up one finger. Just the one, but it is enough. Y/N nods, eyes flickering shut for just a second as they reconcile themselves to what they’re about to do.

Thanos stands triumphant. His fingers are about to come together in a snap when a figure flies out of nowhere, violet magic lighting them up and making their eyes dance in a purple haze. Y/N’s hands lock around the Infinity Gauntlet, and they begin to pull it off before Thanos backhands them into a rocky outcropping.

Thanos smiles a crooked leer, speaking one last time to the assembled warriors. “I am inevitable.” He snaps his fingers, but nothing happens. Confused, he turns over his hand to see that his gauntlet is empty, and whirls around to face Y/N once more. Y/N, who is kneeling on the broken ground, whose hand is enveloped in a gauntlet of purple light, Infinity Stones displayed proudly across their knuckles. The power of the Stones should be too much for them, almost is, but they keep their cries of agony buried deep inside.

“Not anymore.”

The sound of their snapped fingers echoes across the battleground. Around them, enemy ships crumble to dust, scores of fighters turning into ash. Even the Mad Titan himself decays away, although he is the last to go. The heroes turn to each other in awe, but their smiles of victory slip away as they realize the cost. The final cost, one that cannot be erased by another snap of gauntlet-clad fingers.

Wanda flies down from the sky in a cloud of scarlet, her face a mask of calm. She rushes to Y/N’s side, helps them sit down against an overhang of metal. Wanda smiles at her love. “You saved us, Y/N, you saved us all. You did it.” Y/N opens their mouth to speak, but can’t, and settles for a quiet smile of their own. Their face, arm, entire right side of their body is split open from the brunt of the Infinity Stones, a hundred scars and gashes crisscrossing across them. Wanda cradles Y/N’s face in her hands. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Y/N nods, just the once, and then their eyes lose that light, the light they’d always seemed to spark and carry. The last remnants of purple charms and magic fade from their body. It is only now that Wanda allows herself to lose her painted picture of serenity, allowing her face to twist with the grief and sadness of a lifetime. Y/N is dead. Y/N is dead. Y/N is dead.

Agatha stares at the happy family in the park, at Y/N in the center. Y/N L/N, Avenger, was buried a couple of weeks ago. Agatha came to Westview to find out how Wanda had so much power flowing right at her fingertips, and was later joined by S.W.O.R.D. or whatever that organization was called. Between the two of them, there’s no doubt that Wanda will be forced to leave this daydream behind and join reality, but Agatha doesn’t know if she can take it. Agatha doesn’t even know if Agatha can take it, to be honest. At some point in the future, there will be a time when Agatha will have to watch her own child fade away into nothingness once more, gone at last.

It’s strange to think that Agatha technically hadn’t met her child at all, that this Y/N is just a projection of Wanda’s power, but they’d grown so close. Agatha bites her tongue, trying to focus on the physical pain instead of the knowledge that haunts her, that she’ll have to say goodbye to her child once and for all. Then she turns, and walks away. The family remains at the park, one witch among them smiling and laughing for all to see.

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagines #wanda maximoff oneshot #scarlet witch oneshot #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers imagines

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

Delayed Mourning

Going Angst Day 5: Death

_________________________________________

It was 3pm when there was a knock on Maddie Fenton’s door. She huffed and set down the meal she’d been working on. Of course the one day she had time to pre-plan a nice meal from her family was the day she’d get interrupted.

“Yes? May I help you?” Maddie asked, opening the door. She had expected a salesman. Possibly even a neighbor coming to complain, again, about the noise or the smells that came from Fentonworks. Instead she found a small woman who couldn’t have been much taller than 5 ft with dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing a sharp white shirt and suit jacket with a matching white skirt.

“Mrs. Fenton, hello,” the woman gave a polite little head nod. “I’m from the the Government Institute of Interdimensional Warfare though I hear the locals like to call us the Guys in White.” She said with a knowing smiling, “of course, as you know, it’s not only the guys who are interested in ghosts. May I come in?”

“Oh yes, hello,” Maddie blinked, opening the door to let the agent in. The petite woman stepped inside, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her small frame, her oversized glasses and soft nature seemed so at odds with the meatheads Maddie usually found in the GIW. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Perhaps,” the agent demurred. “It’s more there was something I wanted to inform you of. If you’re not too busy, may we sit down and talk? Your husband and children are not home.” Maddie thought that last statement was a bit odd, framed as a statement of fact rather than an inquiry but moved on.

“Yes, Jack’s out of town visiting a relative and my kids won’t be back for a little while,” Maddie said. “Let me just finish putting this roast together, I’m almost done. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” The woman said quietly. “And please, continue while you’re doing. Let me give you a little bit of background.” The agent adjusted her large glasses with her tiny hands. “Let me introduce myself, you may call me Agent S. I work primarily out of Washington for the Institute but sometimes I am deployed on site for... special cases. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, your town is very special.”

“Now, as you may have noticed, I am not particularly built like the normal Institute agents you have probably come across. That is because I do not work in the field but behind the scene in Investigations. My job is study the history and happenings of hauntings and spectral entities.”

“Oh that sounds fascinating,” Maddie beamed as she finished with her final preps and put the roast in the over. She looked over her shoulder at Agent S while she washed her hands. “Jack and I dabble a bit in history and folklore but we’re more versed in the hard sciences of ghosts.”

“Yes, I’ve read some of your papers, you and your husband truly are the frontrunners in the field,” Agent S nodded. Maddie preened at the praise and sat down, delighted to have a sophisticated conversation with someone in her field who she wasn’t married to. If more of those GIW agents were like Agent S then Maddie would get along a lot better with them. “So, Maddie, may I call you Maddie? What date and time did your portal start working?”

“It was August 28th,” Maddie said proudly. “It didn’t work at first when we first plugged it in. I’m afraid I don’t have an exact time it started up as we weren’t here. Jack was convinced one of the electrical conduction pieces wasn’t fully connected and was preventing ectoplasmic distribution. We ended up driving 4 hours to Springfield and back for some specialty parts only to find the portal working when we returned.”

“I can help you there,” Agent S said with a soft smile reaching into her white briefcase and pulling out several thick folders. She laid them out gently on the table and Maddie was unnerved by some of the information: schematics of Fentonworks, past and present financial records, transcripts of public statements. Her shoulders tensed when she saw Jazz and Danny’s names on some of the files. “Toll camera captured your vehicle on the Jane Addams Memorial Tollway at exactly 1:26pm on August 28th. We can confirm you and your husband’s vehicle traveled to Springfield and back via video feeds and credit card statements at 10:45pm that same day and were therefore out of the city all day.”

Maddie suddenly felt very trapped by the woman’s sharp grey eyes as she plucked a piece of paper and pressed it towards Maddie.

“At 3:18pm, the majority of the residential power in town went out for a period of 2 and a half hours. The cause was determined to be from a massive power surge that blew out the transformer. You may recall being blamed for this outage given your history with previous outages but the news that you were out of town settled that argument. However, I was not convinced.” She pulled out another piece of paper and Maddie bristled to see it was a Casper High attendance sheet.

“Your daughter, Jasmine was at her final summer cram session which ran from 2pm until 5pm. I spoke to her tutors and she never left the whole time and, in fact, stayed late to help a fellow student work through her study materials. But what about your son?” Agent S asked with with a curious smile but her eyes belied the fact that she had her own answers.

“How dare you spy on my family, on my children,” Maddie hissed, crumpling one of the papers in her fist. “Get out of my house, I will sue the pants off of your organization for this invasion of privacy! Get out!”

“Now Maddie, don’t you want to know how your son started up your Portal?” Agent S asked coyly, that drew Maddie up short. Danny? No, he couldn’t have possibly. He had no interest in their work, in fact, now that she thought about it, Danny had been sick that day. Agent S pulled out a set of blueprints for the Fenton Portal. Some small component inside the Portal was circled.

“You left at approximately 1pm and your daughter presumably left not long after. Phone records indicate Daniel called both Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson. Your neighbor, Mrs. Benson, saw them coming into your house not long after but before the 3pm power outage which I was able to triangulate did in fact originate from your home.” Agent S tapped the circled part of the inner portal mechanisms. “Now did you happen to push the on button in the Portal before plugging it in?”

“On button?” Maddie asked with a dry mouth, overwhelmed by the amount of information being thrown her way. All she could think about was how Danny hadn’t seemed sick when they’d left that afternoon but had looked awful when they returned. Would he have really gone downstairs and messed with the Portal? Had he gotten hurt? Been contaminated down there? Images of Vlad’s sickly visage after his accident flowed through her head. She should have paid more attention but she’d been so excited about the Portal working...

“It’s right here in the blueprints you submitted to the patent office, buried under dozens of other hardware bits. Its small, such a little thing compared to all the moving parts required to open up a dimensional portal. Daniel was a bright boy, his middle school records prove it. A bright mind, friends to impress, no parents around to chastise him... I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“No, no,” Maddie said, burying her hands in her hair. “No, I’m not. You’re saying -what? - that my teenage son turned on the Portal when we were gone? No, my Danny wouldn’t lie to me about that... Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t blame him for not mentioned in because, if my hunch is correct, he was inside the Portal when it turned on, killing him instantly,” Agent S said with a carefully neutral face. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I’m afraid this haunting has gone on long enough.”

“My child is alive!” Maddie screeched, standing up in her chair. “Danny is alive and healthy and he is not a ghost!”

“I will admit the evidence of how he died is circumstantial but the fact that Danny Fenton is deceased is not.” Maddie fell back into her chair as he legs gave out underneath her.

She watched the agent put paper after paper in front of her and detailed all sorts of data about her son that Maddie, who lived in the same house as him, had missed. Unusually high ectosignatures picked up by GIW (and their own) detectors, Danny being spotted in some form before most ghost attacks, faked signatures of hers getting him out of nurses’ visits. Maddie barely felt alive herself as she stared at a red light camera photo of her baby sitting atop a light post late, late at night. His eyes were a toxic green color.

“I know this must be distressing as a mother but your child never left that basement, never attended high school and will never achieve his dream of working for NASA.” Agent S said with carefully measured sympathy as she gathered up her papers and put them back in her case. “But you are a brilliant scientist, unlike your husband, you should be able to look past your emotions and see that your child is gone and the ghost he left behind is dangerous.”

“My husband?” Maddie asked blankly, running a finger down Danny’s unnatural photograph.

“I approached Jack two days ago, mistakenly believing he would be the most understanding of you both. He refused to believe the evidence and was, in fact, going to warn your son’s ghost that we planned on taking him. He is safe but he presently being held at one of our facilities until the capture is complete.” Maddie should feel outraged at her husband’s kidnapping but all she could think about was the fact that her son was dead, dead, dead, killed by her own invention over a year ago and she never noticed. How could she not have noticed?

“Daniel’s ghost is extraordinary, not only able to pass as human so accurately for so long but immensely powerful. We need to make sure he doesn’t harm anyone else. Think of his friends who are probably being forced to aid him and keep his death quiet. Think of your husband, your daughter, living in the same house as a dangerous ghost.” Agent S dropped some of her professionalism and plucked the photo of Danny out of Maddie’s hands and replaced it with her own tiny hand.

“I know this is impossible thing to ask but I must do it anyway, will you help me capture what remains of Danny? There is a chance with his charade exposed, he will be able to move on and so will you. You have been wronged, Maddie. You have been denied the right to process and grieve your child by his own ghost. But a delayed mourning is better than none. Danny’s death is a tragedy but please don’t let it become someone else’s.”

“Maybe he’s not-” Maddie’s breath hitched, “he’s never shown any signs of aggression. Jasmine spoke of benevolent spirits... maybe-” Agent S sighed roughly and retracted her hand to grab another photo from her case. Maddie was surprised when she held up a picture of Phantom.

“Ignore the glow,” Agent S instructed. “Change his white hair to black, his green eyes to blue. Think of how often Phantom is spotted in your neighborhood, around Casper High. Remember how he always has his hands on your technology,” the agent frowned. “Think of how he grins when he sees you, like he knows something you don’t. Like it all just a big joke you’re not a part of.” Maddie felt like she’d been slapped.

“Your son is dead,” Agent S said more forcefully, throwing the picture of Phantom next to the spooky one of Danny. “And his ghost has taken his place, taunting you, stealing energy from your family, from the portal that killed him. Phantom’s power is increasing too rapidly and soon we won’t be able to contain him. It’s why I was brought in to identify his haunt so that he could be stopped before anyone else died.”

“I will state this plainly, I am giving you the chance to participate in putting your child to rest but you are not required for this operation. If you refuse, you will be confined with your husband until Phantom is taken down. Do not let this monster with your son’s face trick you any more. So I ask again, Maddie Fenton, will you help us stop Phantom from making a mockery of your son’s memory?”

XxX

“Mom! Jazz! I’m home!” Danny announced, kicking off his shoes and grabbing a paper out of his backpack as he walked into the kitchen with a grin. “And I have a present! Jazz’s tutoring paid off, look at this A I got on my history test! Well A- but a solid A-!”

“Oh... that’s great,” Mom muttered quietly. She was sitting at the kitchen table, not cooking or tinkering with some gadget. Just sitting there quietly, twiddling her thumbs and not looking at him.

“Is everyone okay?” Danny asked, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to his mother. “I saw Jazz at school but is Dad okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” she said turning and looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Someone died, someone I love dearly and I’m not ready to let them go,” she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But they've been gone for a long time, even if I’m just hearing about it now. I’m upset but it’s better to know and be grieve than to go on in ignorance, living a lie.”

Danny was about to ask who had died when something was jammed into his neck and he was shocked within an inch of his half life. His body spasmed to escape but his mother was gripping his arm to hold him in place. He transformed unconsciously but that only made it worse. He fell to the floor, ectoplasm leaking off his form as he could barely hold himself together.

“Mom,” he croaked, reaching for her despite everything. She stomped on his hand which was practically goo from such a vicious, destabilizing ectoplasmic shock.

“Don’t you ever call me that,” she hissed through angry tears. “I didn’t want to believe it but the proof is right in front of me you horrible, selfish ghost.” She kicked him in the side and half of him ended up on her boot. “How dare you, how dare you impersonate my son! How dare you string me along all this time, make me look like a fool who had to told that her own child was dead! I bet you just laughed and laughed at our stupid, human ignorance of what your were!”

“‘lease,” he begged through the ectoplasm in his mouth. “I’m still your....”

“My son is dead and he has been for a while,” Mom said, throwing the ecto-taser away from her. Danny vaguely heard the door being kicked in and in his rapidly diminishing vision, he saw black boots and white suits. “With you gone, I can finally come to terms with it and not be tormented by an inadequate replacement.” She turned her back to him. “Get that filth out of my house, I never want to see it again.”

“Of course,” a quiet feminine voice said as his goopy arms were restrained with ghost proof cuffs. “I know this is hard, Maddie but you made the right choice for your family and Danny’s memory. Jack will returned to you within the hour. I spoke to my superiors, for your cooperation, the Institute will take care of declaring Danny dead as well as covering costs for your boy to be laid to rest, the first step in moving on.”

“No, the first step will be removing that duplicitous monster from my home. It’s stolen enough of my baby’s life. Now please leave, I have - I have a funeral to plan.”

#going angst week 2021 #*jazz hands* I uh finally contributed #this is another interesting thing that just sorta happened #I was actually rereading and writing more for Side Effects when I realized that someone could follow the paper trail of the accident #which led me to a tiny lil GIW Investigator who blew Dannys secret wide open #which *then* led me to the tragedy of Maddie learning of her child's 'death' second hand but over a year after a fact #there's something about delayed tragedy... thinking everythings ok only to learn it hasn't been for a while #Love Mads but btw her an Jack shes the one who seems the more likely to take offense to her son's ghost haunting his own life #to keep playing along and pretending to be alive #him secretly being Phantom was the final straw #Both pretending to be Danny then *teasing* her when he saw her as a ghost #(obviously thats not the case but Maddie believes was Made To Believe it was)#Oh I wanted to strange Agent S this whole time typing #the blatant.... manipulation #Maddie may feel free to grieve now but her child's torment was only beginning #haha good times see ya

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wedreamedlove · 2 years

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Hello I really liked your analysis of the game Light and Night characters I was wondering if you would continue for the other characters such as Sariel I really like if you would him please.His personality, the way he sees the world and how he's is with Mc

thank you for reading them! to be honest, i only write analyses when i'm incredibly inspired or if they're my strongest bias otherwise i feel like i wouldn't do the other characters justice compared to people who only bias that character. (my poor brain can only store so many relevant quotes and scenes for the characters.)

i can give a brief overview though. to sum Sariel up, whenever possible he chooses violence LOL just kidding, except he does roast MC whenever he can.

it's implied that long ago in the past, probably 900+ years ago, Sariel was a valiant youth but, after some events, his name became taboo (gu feng!Sariel when). then even later, his personality did a complete switch to what it is now, aka. aloof, noble, and proud. [Chapter 4 Episode 2 Impressions]

he seems to have a major regret in life (someone important died on his birthday and may be the person he says he wants to "revive" in the prologue) and this probably ties into his hermit lifestyle and how he wants to degenerate into oblivion and lose his memories, refusing to take a side in the brewing supernatural conflict. [Birthday Card - Old Dreams Coming to an End; Chapter 4]

that being said, Evan managed to invite him out of seclusion to join Warson. there is some major Plot Things going on here. [Chapter 1]

there is still a ton of mystery about his connection with MC but Qi She (Sariel's lizard who is actually a dragon) was woken up because her voice sounded "familiar" in Chapter 2.

due to MC's persistence in getting close to him (he is basically her North Star in terms of the designer world) he's accepted her fully as his student and can't help but get close to her. but he's still pretty set on his course and, in his Birthday Card and Chapter 9, it's implied that he's setting things up so she can stand on her own and take over his projects when he's finally gone and she'll be watched over by his friends.

hm, i'm not going to lie, Sariel's remarks are pretty vicious. i like to think i'm a very tolerant person (for example, i never take offense to Li Zeyan's words) but sometimes even i'm taken aback by how Sariel's roasts are uncalled for LOL. however, it's extremely evident how much he indulges and cares for MC. he reflexively protects her a lot despite the harsh words he says.

overall, i think Sariel and Evan could make a club or something because these two have a lot of issues and seem pretty determined to leave the world after they're done their business.

#answered asks #光与夜之恋 #light and night #LN sariel #LN qi sili

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bookstantrash · 3 years

Text

A/N: Huge shoutout to the lovely @perseusannabeth who obsess over Pride & Prejudice as much as me. After very politely threatening asking me to write more of Nessian as P&P (I’m so glad Sarah made it canon that Nessian’s relationship is Darcy and Lizzie’s) she told me about THE lake scene in the BBC version. I watched all six episodes and fell in love, so I highly suggest you all watch it too.

Also, huge shoutout to @firebirdofscythia (I stole your Azriel line lmao) and the rest of the gc for being so supportive!! Enjoy

Pemberley’s Lake

Cassian was so tired it was a wonder he had not fallen from his horse, which made him realise that Azriel may have been partially right in telling him to take a break and go back to his state to rest.

Although he suspected that Azriel kicking him out of his office and practically throwing him in a carriage to Pemberley had more to do with the fact that Azriel had gotten sick of his mopey mood more than anything else.

“I shall never show my face in society again” Cassian had told a bored looking Azriel one afternoon, laying on his office’s floor as if it was the end of the world “I shall work until my eyes grow tired and my beard and hair are so long they reach the ground.”

“Stop with the theatrics brother. It is not becoming of you.” Azriel had answered as he shuffled a deck of cards.

“Theatrics!! Azriel for Cauldron’ sake I have no idea how I can keep on living after that refusal” he sighed from his place on the carpeted floor “There is not another woman alive who could hold my heart. It's lost forever. And now I shall live in regret and shame of not being enough for her.”

Azriel rolled his eyes so hard at his brother’s words it was a wonder they did not stay permanently like that.

“I shall grow old and drown my sorrows in the finest beers and wines, turning fat and bald. And after I have passed, my cursed ghost shall roam our country crying in despair over my terrible life”

That had been enough to make Azriel pack Cassian’s belongings and get his brother the fastest horse available.

“If it were not for the laws of this land” Azriel had mumbled after he had bid his brother farewell, wishing a good trip and forbidding him to appear in his office again until he had fixed that mood of his.

Breathing in the clear and fresh air of his home, Cassian was able to momentarily forget his troubled heart. But one look at the blue sky and he was reminded of the gray-blue eyes belonging to the lady who had made him, General Commander of the British Army, who had enough condecorations to fill his whole coat and who had made enemies tremble in fear when faced against him, wallow in self pity and misery.

Lady Nesta Archeron.

Her name alone was enough to make his chest tighten in longing.

Feyre’s oldest and most notorious sister, if not by her breathtaking beauty and intellect but by her ruthless and dismissive regard to the oposite sex. Whereas Feyre had surprised society by marrying before her older sisters — and securing herself the best of matches of the season at that with his brother Rhysand, which was nothing but a Duke — and Elain had enough suitors to fill a ballroom, the oldest Archeron did not seem inclined to marry at all. Oh she did catch the eyes of more than one gentleman — Cassian could vaguely reckon that she had had a long courting with Sir Thomas Mandray, although it had ended rather abruptly — but no one had been able to snare her heart.

That had been what had initially peaked his interest. He had briefly seen her at Rhysand’s wedding, attempting some small talk that was easily and diplomatically dismissed by her. He had then relentlessly engaged in conversation with her in any opportunity he could find, being it from the few occasions in which she frequented Feyre’ small reunions over tea or when he coincidentally met her during her daily walks around town to visit Lady Emerie, a modice whose popularity was raising tremendously after Feyre’s bridal trousseau and wedding dress were all designed by her.

It was not until Feyre’s first official gathering as Duchess that Cassian realised the depths of his feelings for the sharp eyed lady.

He had been watching the ballroom from the sidelines, trying to escape the mob of scary mamas who wanted to throw their daughters at him, a glass of champagne in his hand.

Rhysand and Feyre had already danced the opening song, so the floor was now free to hold more partners. Both Cassian and Azriel had danced once with Morrigan — Rhysand’s cousin and a dear friend of theirs — and Elain had enough names on her card that they’d have to wait a fortnight to dance with her. Nesta on the other hand…. she had refused all invitations, although one could not help but wonder why by the way she seemed to glow whenever a new song was played.

“Lady Archeron” Cassian had greeted, bowing deeply and throwing at her his best smile, one that usually had young ladies fainting and old ones blushing.

But not Nesta Archeron. No, she had only deigned to make a polite bow and look ahead.

“I could not help but take notice of how entranced by the music you appear to be, my Lady” he had offered her his hand “Would you do me the honour of allowing one dance?”

That had caught Nesta’s attention, and she turned towards him, her gray-blue eyes finally meeting his hazel ones.

“I do not think why I should. I am perfectly satisfied to watch from the sidelines” she raised a perfect manicured eyebrow, glancing in the corner where the mamas and their daughters were “I am sure many other young ladies would rather have my place”

Cassian knew she was lying. Knew she desperately wanted to dance, but something was holding her back.

“It is said that dancing is the best way to encourage affection. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable” he had nonchalantly said

“I beg your pardon” Nesta had exclaimed

“The lady has nothing to fear. I will not let you suffer ridicule because of your poor dancing” he had said in a patronizing tone, if only to see that fire in her eyes ignite.

And to see her accepting his offer with a murderous intent.

They had moved to the center of the ballroom, shocked faces all around them, both from the fact that Nesta was joining the dance floor and her partner being him of all gentlemen.

Cassian had never been proved more wrong once the first string from the violin was drawn and Nesta moved. He had been sure she knew how to dance, had only said those words to get a rise from her. But to see Nesta Archeron actually dancing… it was something straight out of a dream.

Cassian knew the waltz. His mother had insisted that all three sons have the same education, even though only Rhysand was set to inherit the duchy.

However, when paired with Nesta Archeron one could not be called nothing but a simple object to display her talents. Even the most notorious dancer would pale in comparison to her.

And Cauldron, she knew that. Nesta knew she was Terpsikhore, greek Muse of music, song and dance.

What a fool he had been, what a complete and utter fool he had made of himself. His only consolation was that some good had come out of his childish behaviour.

Nesta Archeron was dancing, and when she danced she threatened to bring empires to their knees, for her beauty got inhumanly enhanced, her delighted smile sending an arrow straight to his chest.

Cassian realised he had fallen hopelessly in love with Nesta Archeron. If he was to be true with himself, he had been for quite some time, since their first exchange of words when she had all but dismissed him as a pesky bug.

And as the last note was drawn, as the whole ballroom breathlessly took in Nesta, in complete awe of her, Cassian decided he was going to marry her.

Was going to propose to Nesta Archeron right at that moment.

Using the excuse of getting some fresh air after the tiring dance, he walked them to Rhysand’s extensive and well lit garden, quiet enough that they would not be interrupted but not so isolated as to risk her reputation.

They had walked only a few minutes in the garden when Cassian declared his feelings. He all but tripped with his words, hoping Nesta could see past his fool’s act.

She had not.

She had refused his hand in the most brutal way, her words so articulately poisoned that Cassian felt himself a young boy again, desperately trying to achieve perfection so his father would dare to spare him more than a passing glance. Would not regret having adopted him into his household and given him a home.

He had uttered an apology, saying how sorry he was that his feelings had caused her such pain and disgust, reigning his temper enough to walk her back to the ballroom.

Cassian left town the same night, and had stayed in his office and headquarters training the new milicia since then, burying himself with work until Azriel grew tired of his awful mood.

Sighing, Cassian brushed his horse’s neck, eyeing the lake.

Maybe a dive in the cold waters of Pemperley would help clear his mind.

~•~

Pemberley was, in Nesta’s opinion, the most beautiful state she had ever seen. Even more than her newly married sister’s dukedom.

“However this house’s lady is, she sure is happy” Emerie commented as the head maid showed them to the music room.

“As if someone could be unhappy with this much money” Gwyn whispered back, eyeing the grand piano.

Nesta was inclined to agree, even more after having seen the library. She could not help but envy the lady. Her husband must be a very cultured gentleman.

“May I show you the external grounds? I am sure the gentleman will find it quite delightful” the head maid said, looking at Balthazar, the only men among their group of four.

“I am most grateful for your hospitality” he answered, and they promptly moved outdoors.

Their party of four had been travelling through the countryside for almost two weeks. It was as much as a vacation for Emerie and Balthazar — with Emerie’s shop the season’s current sensation and Balthazar being her current business partner — as a time out from the ton, which Gwyn — the most required opera singer of the season — had announced to be in desperately need of a vacation from.

As for Nesta, she had always wanted to travel, but as a single woman of marriageable age without a male relative to escort her, it would have been a nearly impossible feat to accomplish.

When Balthazar had offered to escort both her and her friends Nesta had wanted to shout in delight.

Secretly, she also wished to avoid a certain gentleman, one whose heart she had mercilessly and regretfully broken.

Nesta shook her head as she walked through the garden, distancing herself from her party to think and remember.

Remember how she had enjoyed dancing with Lord Cassian.

How her body had sung and heated where his skin touched hers.

How she had found herself smiling and agreeing to take a stroll with him, using the excuse of feeling overwhelmed in the crowded ballroom.

How his smile had faded once she tore at him, throwing every hateful word his way to refuse his proposal.

Nesta had not seen Cassian since her sister’s ball, but she did not want to risk an encounter.

That trip could not have been more well timed.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice her hair getting caught in a low tree branch, ruining her intricate updo.

“No one is around” she muttered to herself as she took off the pins holding it in place “A few minutes with my hair down will not hurt”

So Nesta took each pin off, massaging her scalp as she walked in the direction of the state’s lake, the sun shining over its clear waters.

And that is when she spotted him.

Cassian.

Cassian was at the lake.

Cassian was shirtless, dripping wet by the lake’ shore.

Nesta knew she should turn around and forget what she was currently seeing.

But she could not take her eyes off of him.

Seeing a shirtless man in person was indeed a far cry from what her imagination conjured when reading romance novels.

Especially the way the water was running down Cassian’s tanned and hard torso, all the way down his pecs and stomach — was that a six pack or were her eyes playing tricks on her? — until it collided with his pants, which were hanging so low on his hips that Nesta could not help but feel a weird sensation low in her stomach.

Her legs stopped obeying her, and she swore her knees got weak when Cassian noticed he had company.

“Lady Archeron?” he exclaimed, as if he could not believe his eyes.

“Sir!” was all she could say, feeling her cheeks warming.

Cauldron what was wrong with her? It was just a body. A very nice, very wet muscled body and—

“What may you be doing here?” Nesta quickly inquired, cutting her errand thoughts.

“I am the owner” he simply answered

“Of the lake?”

She wanted to smack herself. How could have she blurted such a stupid and rude question?

“Yes, of the lake. And of Pemberley” he answered, amusement lacing his words.

“I didn’t know. The head maid said all the family was not home— we should not have presumed—”

“I returned without prior notice”

“Excuse me, are you and your sisters in good health?” Cassian added, and Nesta dared to think that he sounded a bit nervous.

“Yes. Yes they are. Thank you, sir” she managed to answer, her eyes firmly placed upon his face and not anywhere else.

“I am glad to hear that” he licked his lips and Nesta could not help but wonder if they would be cold due to the lake’s water or if Cassian’s unbothered face meant he was not cold at all.

Was she really inquiring of how his lips would feel against hers? Against her skin? If kissing Cassian would feel as dreamily as her novel's kiss appeared to be?

Nesta hated him.

Did she not?

“I had never seen you with your hair down”

Cassian’s words took her out of her reverie, and Nesta suddenly felt self conscious.

“Do excuse me for showing myself in front of you with such an unsightly appearance” she felt mortified. To have Cassian of all people seeing her like that, hair in complete disarray….

Nesta quickly turned around, fumbling with the hair pins in a vain and desperately attempt of redoing her hair.

“It’s beautiful” she heard Cassian saying in a breathless voice, and thanked the Cauldron her back was turned so he would not see how her face warmed considerably, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Let me help you” he quietly added, and she gasped at the proximity of wet, shirtless Cassian, who touched her hair softly.

“How come a gentleman such as you knows how to hairstyle a lady’s hair?” Nesta asked, feeling his warmth on her back, a tingly sensation between her legs when his fingers brushed her neck.

“I frequently helped my younger sister, Georgiana, fix her own hair in the occasions she played a little too far from what would be deemed proper for a young lady” she felt his hot breath against her neck as Cassian laughed “She favours outdoors activities such as horseback riding, although she’s quite accomplished in arts and music.”

“Your sister sounds lovely” Nesta said, turning to face him once she felt he was done fixing her hair.

“She is my brothers’ and mine whole world. There’s nothing we would not do for Georgiana”

Nesta felt her heart warming at his words, at his devotion and love towards his family. She wondered if he would do the same with his wife.

If he would have acted the same way towards her had she accepted his proposal.

Unbeknown to her, Cassian was imagining the same thing.

He was picturing how he could have helped her every morning with her hair if she had agreed to marry him. Instead, he would have to live with this one memory forever.

He was lost in her eyes, their bodies so close they were sharing breaths and Cassian was holding back by a sliver thread of self control to not hold her against him.

If it were not for the appearance of three people — Cassian supposed them to be Nesta’s companions — he very well could have done that.

“Excuse me” Cassian abruptly said, bowing deeply and leaving Nesta alone.

Although soon her friends joined her, Gywn and Emerie bombarding her with questions seeing her ruffled state.

Their party was getting ready to depart when Cassian appeared again, having ran inside to get changed and appropriate.

“Lady Nesta!” he called before she could get inside the carriage “Please allow me to apologise for not receiving you properly just now. You are not leaving?”

“We were, sir. We have already imposed too much” she said, spine straight and looking every bit the regal queen she was.

What he did not know was that was her way of maintaining a cool exterior and not blush remembering his naked figure.

“You are not displeased with Pemberley, are you?” Cassian asked, anxiously brushing his hair back.

“No. Not at all”

“And you approve of it?”

“Very much” Nesta said softly, a dreamy smile on her face as she remembered the library “A few would not approve”

“But your good opinion is rarely bestowed and therefore more worth earning” he said, and his smile was enough to make Nesta’s heart skip a beat.

Why was she feeling in such a way, she wondered. Why did her body feel hot and strange all over whenever Cassian was involved?

“Thank you. That is very kind of you”

“I shall not hold you back any longer” he said, helping her in the carriage, his calloused hand a stark contrast against her soft one “I will call on you and I hope you can introduce me to your companions. Perhaps we may go fishing tomorrow? My property is blessed with an abundance of them”

“We would be delighted to. Thank you, sir’

After the farewells were bid and Nesta’s carriage was only a distant dot in the horizon, Cassian got inside, smiling broadly at his head maid and butler.

“You are very chipper, sir'' the old woman said with a knowing smile, the butler agreeing with her. Their lord had been mopey for quite some time now, so it brought joy to their hearts to see his mood so high.

“I had a very good evening Mrs.Pots” he declared, thinking about how he should swim more frequently in the lake.

A few miles from Pemberley, Nesta stared at the scenery lost in thought, Cassian’s touch lingering in her hand all the way back to the inn.

•

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#nessian #cassian x nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #pride and prejudice AU #BBC version lake scene #sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic

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ricksroaches · 3 years

Text

Jungkook - Dysphoria ch. 1

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Jungkook, a burnt out gifted student, comes home from summer camp not ready to start his sophomore year of highschool, but his friends are there to help him feel better. Although not in the best of ways.

notes: This is a Euphoria-ish au but mostly it's just heavily inspired by the show (I use a few quotes), and each chapter is based on a character. There's a few parts where I cue a song title that's because I made a soundtrack to listen to while reading but I deleted it a while ago so :( if you feel like it listen to the ones I did write down. I'm apologizing now bc my writing can be a bit choppy/rushed its just cuz i have a more drabble-like style and don't know how to write between big scenes. THIS IS A DARK FIC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Hope you enjoy and sorry for this big ass paragraph.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: ass-load of angst, mental illness (depression, anxiety, bipolar, OCD, and probably more), drugs (all of them. just all of them), underage drinking, cursing, mentions of self-harm

Next chapter

[Slideshow - Labrinth]

When Jungkook was 5, he wanted to be an astronaut. He wanted to fly into the sky and zip around space exploring things never before seen. His little mind was so strong, wanting to learn anything and everything. When he first learned how to read, he would read every sign he passed in the car and play games with the letters he’d find. It wasn’t long before he was placed in advanced classes with kids he'd never seen before and for the first time in his academic career, he was challenged.

When Jungkook was 10, he wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to wear a white coat and glasses and race around a hospital busy saving lives everyday. He wanted people to look to him for advice and treat him with respect. He wanted to feel needed.

When Jungkook was 14, he wanted to be a paramedic. He didn’t think he’d be smart enough to become a doctor so an EMT would have to do. His classes had begun to pile up in work to the point where he didn’t have the time to think about anything but school. He ate, slept, and breathed homework, projects, and term papers.

When Jungkook was 16, all he wanted to do was graduate. He no longer had any desire to pursue his childhood dreams. When he was asked what he wanted to do when he was older, his mind was a void. He couldn’t see any future for himself past high school. He went day to day not bothering to care about what might happen the next day. He coasted through all of his classes and dropped out of the advanced programs that his parents put him in.

His potential was like a flame. It was small at first, but still had loads of potential, so more kindling was thrown on top. The flame received it well, quickly spreading over the new material. But they kept stacking kindling. Stacking and stacking and stacking putting more and more pressure until finally….the flame died. All because he liked to read.

[Forever - Labrinth]

The clouds inched across the sky and rows of crops and fencing whipped by the car window. A stark contrast between the two. Jungkook rested his head against the glass and watched as the car began to pass more and more houses. The familiar area told him he was almost home. He should’ve been glad, elated even. He would finally get to see his friends again, but after three weeks of summer school to catch up on the class he skipped last year he’d lost the ability to smile or show any form of positivity. To say he felt like a zombie would be an insulting understatement.

The car pulled into the ever so familiar driveway and the rest of his family piled out of the car. He didn’t move. He heaved a long, anguished sigh before snatching his duffel bag from the other seat and throwing open the door.

He was out the front door again before his mom could even ask him where he was going. Speeding his bike down the empty road that he’d ridden countless times before. He could make this route with his eyes closed. The house in question came into view and Jungkook pedaled harder to close the distance. He swung one leg to the opposite pedal and straddled it until he swerved to a stop in the driveway. The house was old, hadn’t been lived in for years, wasn’t on the market, yet wasn’t scheduled to be torn down. It was the perfect place for a group of teenagers to tear apart and put back together. Without knocking, he stepped inside and was hit with the welcoming scent of booze, pizza, and weed with notes of cigarettes and coffee. Music blasting from a distant room in the house led him to the living room where he counted one, two, three, four, five people sprawled about the room. Upon noticing him standing in the doorway, they jumped up and raced to pull him into the room.

“Kook! How you been man? How’d surviving summer school go?” Taehyung was Jungkook’s best friend and unsolicited wingman. He was always trying to set him up with girls so he could get his v card punched. Taehyung was ever the ladies man. Never had trouble finding a date or a hookup. No one could blame him though. If they had that flawless, arrogant face they’d use it too. Despite his fuckboy nature, he was the best friend Jungkook ever had. They’d gone to the same school since they were 7 and Taehyung’s untamable charisma sniffed out Jungkook’s shyness rather quickly. They were inseparable and the rest is history.

“Fine I guess.”

“Kookie, come sit down! I’ve been saving your spot on the couch for you!” Jimin pulled Jungkook to the left corner of the C shaped couch. Jimin was like Taehyung in the sense that he also had no issues with finding partners. He wasn’t near as promiscuous as Taehyung, but he made up for it with his bisexuality. He had an entire other gender to choose from. Jimin was probably the nicest of the group. He always gave the best hugs and was their personal therapist. His aura seemed to coax you into opening up to him even if you hadn’t originally planned on it. He had a way of saying all the right words to make you feel better, even if it was just for a moment. On the other side of him, he was the biggest party animal the group had ever seen. Anywhere else, he was the purest angel that everyone believed could do no wrong. But at a party? Park Jimin was a demon. Seductively dancing in a stylish jacket, pants low enough to show his v-line, sweaty hair flipped back pounding shot after shot until he was the last man standing. That guy could party from sun down to sun up like it was a baby shower.

“Did you at least learn anything you missed last year?” Namjoon. Ever the parent. He was surprisingly humble given his father’s status and money. He easily had the best grades among the friends. School always came easy to him, no matter what it was. However, if you saw him outside of school, you’d never be able to guess he was one of the school’s top students. He carried an energy with him that dared anyone to mess with him or his friends. Although you didn’t see it often, he could make himself scary if he wanted to. All in all, he’s just a gentle giant that made sure everyone turned in their work.

“Absolutely nothing. I don’t know why they keep wasting their time on me.” Jungkook sighed. Hoseok threw a pillow from across the couch, smacking him in the face.

“Yah! Don’t talk about yourself like that!” Hoseok was the human charger. It didn’t matter if someone’s mama died if Hoseok was in the room there would be shenanigans. He was always the one to make some crazy dare that would end up getting them in trouble but they wouldn’t be mad because it was totally worth it. He also had great music taste and almost always was on aux. Hoseok’s vice was coke. Often the driving force behind his hyper nature, it started out as just a thing he did at parties, but slowly creeped into his everyday habits. It hadn’t become a problem yet, he vowed that as soon as he started getting nosebleeds he’d stop, although Jungkook was wary of how difficult that was going to be.

“Where’s Y/N and Yoongi?” Jungkook asked after noticing their usual spots empty.

“They left to get food. They should be coming back soon.” Jin assured him, giving him a comical slap on the thigh. Jin was the eldest, but rarely acted like it. Whenever he wasn’t making stupid dad jokes or eating he spent his time at the classical theater where he worked and sometimes acted. He planned on pursuing acting given his “world wide handsome face.” “It just has to be seen! People around the world need to swoon at my beauty” as he would put it.

No one heard the front door open and shut or noticed Y/N and Yoongi standing in the doorway of the living room.

“Food’s here.” Yoongi finally croaked. Hoseok and Jin yelped and sprung up.

“JESUS! Ever heard of announcing yourselves?! I swear you guys are the exact same person!” Y/N just gave a shrug and plopped onto the large bean bag that she’d claimed.

“Hey, Kooker.” She dragged out.

“Hi Y/N..” His unusual bland reply didn’t go unnoticed by her, but she brushed it off.

“You ready to get shit faced?” A playful grin plastered her otherwise tranquil face. A small smile poked at Jungkooks pursed lips. There was something about her character that always put him in a better mood. She was the one who invited him and Tae into the friend group in the first place, and because of that, he couldn’t be more grateful.

Yoongi tossed him a beer can and his car keys. “Start us off Jungkook.” Yoongi was by far the most terrifying one. It took some time to get to know his true person but there were still times when he still scared the shit out of him. Jungkook remembered when he first met Yoongi. He looked like he’d served time with the seasoned look in his eye that said he’d seen some shit in his day. He hadn’t spoken the entire time the group was talking and Jungkook was beginning to worry that he didn’t like him. It wasn’t til he finally spoke that Jungkook could release the breath he was holding. For someone so stoic and cold looking, he never expected him to have such a low, soft voice. He realized, Yoongi wasn’t scary, he was just quiet like him.

Jungkook took the keys and poked a hole in the bottom of the can. He pressed his lips to it and pulled the tab, sending the amber liquor shooting down his throat. He finished it with ease and crushed the can in his palm while the room cheered and chanted.

The loud music, laughing, and drugs drowned out everything in the outside world. It felt like the world ended and they were the last people left on Earth. Nothing mattered but what was right in front of them. The hours flew by until it came time for everyone to crash. Most of them were still raging drunk or high which only made them fall asleep faster. Jungkook didn’t drink much and he barely smoked. He just couldn’t get in the right headspace to enjoy any of it. So there he was, laying awake among a pile of snoring boys at some ungodly hour of the night. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out to read the text in his notifications.

[We All Knew - Labrinth]

Y/N💜: come to my office

He shimmied out from under Taehyung and Jimin and tiptoed out of the room. He followed the smell of weed through the house because where there was weed, there was Y/N. He stepped into the backyard and found her leaning against the wall, blunt between her fingers. The tip of the dark stick swelled into a bright orange when she took a drag. Smoke rolling out of her nose, she held it out for him. He hesitated.

“You're upset. Take it.” Which was a dead-on observation for Y/N, who’s not normally revolving in the same direction as planet Earth. He hesitantly took a puff from it before handing it back. She spread her arms lazily and looked at him with a beckoning stare. He sighed and walked right into her arms that wrapped around his back. She was only older than him by a year, but her old soul and almost motherly demeanor made him look up to her like she was his idol. Sometimes, he forgot he was a whole head taller than her. “Welcome home, Kookie.”

Hers was the only welcome he got that day that brought a genuine smile to his face. She had a way of making him feel welcome and wanted even if she was in a bad mood. She broke the embrace and without a word headed to the old couch by the empty swimming pool. He eventually followed her and flopped down next to her. Another gush of smoke entered the chilly air and it was handed back to him. Feeling better, he took a healthy drag and sighed out the smoke as he sunk further into the couch.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Was what obvious?”

“Me being upset.”

“Not really.” She flicked the ash off the tip of the brown stick, her gaze not breaking from its spacey stare.

“Then how’d you know?”

“Pain recognizes pain.” Y/N wasn’t one for her genius epiphanies, given that nine times out of ten on any given day she was stoned out of her mind. She wasn’t dumb, god no. He wouldn’t doubt that she was smarter than him, but she rarely exercised her ability. As great of a gift that her mind was, it was an even worse curse. An inescapable tomb of her worst fears, thoughts, and intentions, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. So naturally, she tried anything and everything to silence her mind; alcohol, weed, acid, coke, molly, you name it, she’s done it.

Jungkook wasn’t angry or disappointed by the lengths she went. He knew she was just trying to feel better, and to him, that’s all that mattered. He’d take high Y/N over no Y/N at all.

“Y/N?”

“Yep.” There was a silence while he worked up the nerve to speak.

“How…uh….how long have you felt…the way you feel?” She chuckled and let her head fall back against the couch.

“Well I smoked a blunt with Yoongi in the car this morning and then-”

“No, I mean like…w-without drugs.” Her lazy smile didn’t change, but her eyes unfocused and she grew quiet as if lost in a flashback.

“How long do you think I’ve felt this way?” He didn’t anticipate this question.

“Uh…I don’t know…you hide it really well.”

“I couldn’t tell you when it started. I don’t remember much before 7. I’m told I was a happy kid, but it didn’t feel like it at all. All my life I’ve looked around and seen that everyone was so much happier than me, and I’d ask myself, ‘Why can’t I feel like that?’ It wasn’t until I was older that I learned…I was born to suffer. That’s just my place in the world.”

“When did you finally tell anyone?”

“I didn’t. My parents found my razors.” Jungkook always thought he saw scars on her arms and legs, but her milky skin made it hard to tell. It hurt his heart to know that it was true, and that every one of those once caused her pain. The image of her forearms and thighs slick with her blood brewed tears in his eyes.

“They determined they didn’t have the knowledge to help me, so they asked me to take a tour of this mental hospital and think about their suggestion….” She paused to keep her voice from cracking. “I didn’t make it home that day. Never really forgave them after that.”

There was a long silence after that. Jungkook didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Besides, he knew she hated condolences. “What made you start using drugs?” She took a drag of the blunt and thought about it.

“I was 13.” Really? “I found my brothers stash of weed in one of his shoes. I already knew what weed was and what it was used for, so I took about a gram and a rolling paper and taught myself how to roll a joint on my bathroom floor. I was shaking like a dog shitting peach seeds but when that joint hit, I thought…” She tilted her head to peak at him with an epiphanic smile, “This is it…This is the feeling that I’ve been waiting to feel my entire life. I thought I was sure to get caught and sent to juvie, but I wasn’t. The world went on, and I found a way to live. Now could my lifestyle kill me? Will it kill me? Yeah probably I don’t know, but at least I could’ve had a few years where I wasn’t begging the universe to put me out of my misery.” She paused to take another hit. “People often ask me, ‘Y/N why don’t you try therapy? Drugs aren’t the answer.’ Yeah well, drugs work. Therapy’s a guessing game; you never know if it’s gonna actually help or not and end up wasting your time and money. But when I take that hit, that line, that tab, the world starts to slow…and everything goes quiet…and I feel safe. In my own head. And I can see the world in color again.”

Jungkook watched her blissful face while she was lost in thought. She must’ve been pretty high because this is the most personal she’d ever gotten with him or possibly anyone that wasn’t Yoongi. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“W-what if I don’t feel what everyone else feels either..?” He pinched the skin between his fingers to keep his tears at bay, a nervous habit he’d picked up from her. She reached over and took his hand in hers, the webbing between her fingers had white and pink stripes from years of fingernails digging into the flesh.

“Jungkook,” she didn’t use his nickname, “I know how hard it was for you to say that. I want you to know how much I appreciate you telling me, because if anyone knows how you feel, it’s me. You can talk to me whenever, wherever. Even when you think it’s a bad time it’s not, because nothing in that moment is more important to me than you. I don’t want you to go through the same thing I did, so please, even if you don’t want to talk, maybe I can at least keep you company.”

For the rest of the night, Jungkook told her everything. About the pressure, the stress, the desire to collapse and let the world go on without him, his inability to see a future where he was fulfilled. The words often caught in his throat, having never said them out loud before. Y/N didn’t say much, she just wrapped them in a blanket and stroked his hair while she just let him talk. Sometimes, he’d have to stop to cry and she’d hold him a little tighter, wipe his tears away with her thumbs, and wait til he was ready again.

Eventually, he had nothing else to say, his tears dried, and his body stilled.

Babies didn’t sleep that good.

Y/N nodded off a little later but was woken up by a raccoon tipping a trash can. She rested her cheek on his head and tried to go back to sleep, but it never came. She just continued to rest her eyes while playing with Jungkook’s hair and tracing lines along his features.

She didn’t know how long she laid there but soon the birds began their routine morning songs and she was sure she wouldn’t get back to sleep now. The faint tap of shoes on the concrete perked her ears, but she kept her eyes closed. The footsteps stopped behind the couch where she sat. It was quiet before the person chuckled quietly. A warm hand smoothed back the hair in her face and a little kiss was planted on her forehead. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

“Yoongi, I’m awake you creep.” She cracked her eyes open to see her boyfriend laid over the back of the couch hovering above her, his dark hair tickling her nose. He smirked.

“Well in that case,” he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up before capturing her lips in a playful kiss. When they parted, he glanced down at Jungkooks still sleeping figure. “You guys stay out here all night?”

“Yeah,” she looked down at him and smoothed his hair back, “he just had a few things to get off his chest.” Yoongi almost asked what it was about but her face gave him an idea.

“It’s cold, you want me to take him inside?”

“It won’t wake him up will it?”

“If he’s as out as as he looks, he won’t.” She nodded and Yoongi circled around and slipped his hands under the sleeping boy’s body. Much to Y/N’s pleasant surprise, he lifted him bridal style with ease and she followed him into the house where he placed him next to the other slumbering boys.

When he straightened back up he saw her in the sliding glass door, gazing at the now dusty blue sky. She could feel his body heat on her back against the nippy outside air.

“I always loved the time just before dawn.”

“Why is that?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek to hers.

“It’s so calm and peaceful. And incredibly quiet besides the birds. It’s the only time I feel truly left alone.”

“You want me to show you my favorite time of day?” She turned to him with a curious look. “Follow me.” Not long after, the two were perched on the flat portion of the roof with Yoongi’s bong sitting between them. His angular fingers effortlessly packed the bowl and held it out to her. “All yours.” She took it with a smile.

“What a gentleman~”

Soon, the sky went from a pale blue to pastel shades of orange and pink. He looked over to see her fiddling with a thread on his hoodie she was wearing. “This,” he took her jaw and guided her eyes up for her to see the sunrise, “is my favorite time of day.”

“Why?”

“It gives me hope. Kinda like you.” He was glad she didn’t say anything. She was lost in the color palette of the scene before her, the weed making everything so much more vibrant and striking. He could see the sky reflected in her eyes, making the view ten times better. More time went by and she rested her head on his broad shoulder while they watched the rest of the sunrise.

Back on the ground, Yoongi cleared the bowl and poured out the bong water before setting it on a table by the couch. Y/N was on her back in the center of the empty pool, slowly tearing a leaf above her face and analyzing how it separated cell by cell. He stood on the edge above and watched her do this another four times much to his amusement. “You wanna get breakfast?”

She was out of the pool and in his face before he could finish his sentence. “Like you have to ask.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes before turning and walking to his car. “Hey, Yoongi.”

He turned back.

“Carry me to the car like Jungkook.” He broke into a smirk and walked back to her.

“Yes ma’am.” She let out a yelp when he scooped her off her feet and marched the two of them to his car waiting on the street.

Cover photo: @BIGHITTED on Twitter

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #fanfic #yoongi #yoongi x reader #ot7 x reader #bts fic #yoongi fic #bts angst

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damerondala · 3 years

Text

Suture Up Your Future

i was watching reservoir dogs last night and that scene in the beginning with mr. orange is so intense i wanted to write some bad batch AnGst that mirrors it (and yes, the title is a queens of the stone age song, im really just snatching ideas from everybody huh lol). im also not too knowledgeable about trauma wounds like this and how to patch them up, but i did my best so pls be nice lmao im a sensitive bitch

Pairing: Platonic Bad Batch x Gender Neutral Reader / Platonic Tech x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: adult dialogue, severe wounds and blood loss, wound suturing, sad batch ™ but with a happy ending! yay!

Word Count: approx. 1.4k

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

“Say it for me, Tech.” You were met with an agonistic cry instead of the words you needed the trooper to say. Not only to reassure himself, but you as well. “Say it,” you nearly screamed while he lay there bleeding out, “You’re going to be okay, fucking say it. You’re going to be okay.”

“I,” a sharp intake of breath made his chest heave and a new wave of fresh blood come out of his gaping wound, covering your hands in the warm substance, “‘m guh be oh-okay.”

“There we go, come on Tech, come on buddy breathe for me.”

Nothing was out of the ordinary when you woke up that day. Hunter asked if you wanted to stay on the Marauder while he, Tech, and Crosshair went on a supply run. Hunter sang his reassurances to you, fully knowing you had a point when you reminded him that this planet was not the most welcoming place for outsiders. Especially the army of the Republic. But Hunter made sure they had civilian clothing to disguise themselves; this was the closest planet you all could get to at the moment, with the little fuel you had, after all. “In and out, just like that,” the sergeant cooed with a snap of his fingers to enunciate the last word of his promise.

Echo, Wrecker, and yourself gave your best wishes to the group, then retreated back to the hull of the beloved ship. Echo toying with a new prosthetic he and Tech had been working on, Wrecker subjecting poor Gonky to yet another workout, and you occupied yourself with some tidying up. Maker knows that five busy soldiers plus one even busier medic, patching up said soldiers on a regular basis, equaled a filthy ship that was in dire need of some elbow grease.

What none of you had expected however, was the very early return of the three bad batchers, one of them being supported by the other two. Barely able to walk and blood leaking out of his abdomen.

Panic set in your gut upon the sight. Wrecker and Echo already in front of you, screaming their concerns and questions while you scrambled back into the ship to clear the table that was littered with empty dishes and Tech’s projects, then sprinting to your medkit to snag the supplies you’d need to treat a wound such as this. Returning to the table just as Wrecker set his vod down on the flat surface that, might you add, was much too small for his six-four frame and much too dirty for the situation at hand, but would have to do. Considering the severity of the scene before you. Tech had an enormous gash — you guessed from some sort of large knife — that ran from the bottom of his left ribs all the way to the front of his abdomen, ending just above his bellybutton.

“Fucking bounty hunters,” Crosshair growled from behind you but you couldn’t afford to pay him any mind, Tech was damn near about to bleed to death if you didn’t act quick. You could curse the people who did this to your friend later. “Echo, he’s going to need more blood. Get Wrecker hooked up to the blood draw.” You ordered while applying pressure to the gash, Tech’s blood slowing at the contact, but still steadily seeping through your fingers. Normally Wrecker would pout about being hooked up to a machine but the sight of his friend dancing with death made him move quicker than any of you had ever seen, ripping his shirt sleeve up so Echo could begin drawing blood.

The scene felt like a dream. Well, more like a nightmare, one that never stopped no matter how badly you wished you could just wake up and it would all be over. Instead, you were sweating through your shirt, a few tears stained your cheeks, and you were fucking covered in blood; Tech’s blood, to make the matter even more chilling. Everything happened so fast, you desperately wished you had gone on the run instead of Tech. Maybe that way you could all be sitting around this table, playing cards and giggling at Echo and Wrecker’s bickering over who’s cheating by now.

“What do you need me to do?” Hunter stepped to your side, prepared to do anything in order to save the youngest of the squad. “Get the gauze and alcohol out of my pack.” You threw your head in the direction of the stocked medpack sitting on the table near Tech’s legs. Hunter opened the bottle of antiseptic and handed it to you, Crosshair on the other side of the table taking the gauze from Hunter’s hand. Ready to stuff the wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding more until you could properly suture him up. Dumping the alcohol inside the gash caused Tech to gasp, eyebrows furrowing and body going taut at the pain you inflicted on him. You pleaded with him to relax and help you in reassuring himself that he would be fine. Both you and Hunter continuing the verbal comfort while Crosshair unraveled the pristine white gauze and began shoving it into Tech’s side, dying it crimson almost immediately. The pressure from both yours and Crosshair’s hands did a good job at stopping the blood loss, just enough so you could begin really cleaning him up and sewing his abdomen back together. Hunter helped with handing you the needle and thread and you began puncturing Tech’s skin and pulling the thread through the tissue.

Cries and mumbles of curses came from Tech’s lips, his face paler than any of you had ever seen before. “Shhh…eh..it,” Tech groaned as you diligently worked at his stomach. You silently thanked whatever celestial power that was out there for slowing down the blood flow to a much more manageable pace. Crosshair’s efforts clearly paid off, you mentally noted, as you watched his steady marksman hands slowly remove the gauze while you advanced with your stitching.

“Blood transfusion is ready,” Echo suddenly appeared, ready to start replenishing the blood Tech had lost. “Just in time,” you managed a half-smile, not entirely sure of where it came from. But looking back, you think it was out of hope.

Tech’s glazed eyes silently caught the way your mouth curled up and he was infinitely grateful for it. To him — and the other members of the squad — you were a beacon of light in the cruel and unforgiving war you all were in the midst of. It was easy to let the darkness and the violence consume them, but the second you joined their squad as their senior medic, there was that sudden sense of hope; you were something that made all of it even more worth it.

The entire procedure of fixing up your friend honestly was a blur for the most part. One second they were dragging Tech’s limp and bloody body up the ramp, the next you all found yourselves slumped into chairs, over crates, hell, you were nearly passed out from exhaustion on the floor next to the table Tech was splayed out on. His wound clean and stitched to near perfection, and Wrecker’s blood slowly being pumped back into his veins, bringing that beautiful, healthy tan back to his features.

Being so tired led you to neglect the dried blood all over your arms and shirt. In your haze, you remember Wrecker gently grasping your biceps and heaving you off the grimy ground, urging you to wash up and change. When you began to protest, the gentle giant rubbed up and down your arms in an effort to persuade you, “He’ll be fine, kid. You stitched him up real good. Plus, you know how queasy he gets with blood. He’d want you to get cleaned up.” Just as the final syllable left his mouth, you felt the soft cotton of your extra shirt being brushed against your forearm, Crosshair’s arm extended to you from his place on a ration crate with a nod in your direction. A silent way of showing you he agreed with his older brother — we got him, don’t worry.

Your squad member’s wisdom proved to be true. Stepping out of the fresher in a new shirt sans sweat stains and blood, and your skin nice and clean, you were greeted with the sight of everybody crowding around their youngest vod still laying on the table. Weaseling your way in between Hunter and Echo, you found Tech awake. Albeit less sharp than he usually is, but still awake. Breathing. Fucking alive. The weight of dread that had been crushing your chest was suddenly gone, letting your lungs fully expand for the first time in hours. A soft hand found Tech’s cheek, the tips of your fingers accidentally bumping the edge of his goggles and another smile gracing your face, this one out of relief.

“Told you you’d be okay.”

#i know reservoir dogs is like...the ultimate white boy douchebag movie but i still like it #im taking it back from those bitches lol #and this is my first time writing something platonic AND writing angst I hope it's decent lol im more of a fluff and spicy stories kinda gal #my writing #tech fic #bad batch fic #the bad batch tech x reader #the bad batch platonic fic #the bad batch crosshair x reader #the bad batch hunter x reader #the bad batch echo x reader #the bad batch wrecker x reader #the bad batch fanfiction

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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 19

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors,

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 19: Mrs. Lupin

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

The rest of Valentine’s Day was spent with Y/N compiling a list in her head:

1. Avoid drinking anything the Marauders — actually, avoiding drinking anything around James to dodge their concoction of face and body-altering potions. When students at lunch and dinner drank from the pumpkin juice supply, more than several people who were already in relationships morphed into those they weren’t dating. Let’s just say that this prank wasn’t as uplifting and fun as the Marauders originally had in mind. Even the Bloody Baron told Peeves to spare them.

2. Make sure Lily didn’t drink anything around the Marauders — or anything around Marlene and Mary (who caught word from Peter of her supposed feelings). They were dying to know who caught her attention and bets were being placed.

3. James just wouldn’t shut the fuck up about Emmeline. She could even hear his voice: Whiskers! Did you see how pretty she looks? Woah, I can’t believe she agreed to be my girlfriend? I’m so lucky! She’s beautiful! Ugh — did you see her smile? Emmeline this, Emmeline that — it was even worse than his obsession with Quidditch. But, it was too endearing in a sickening, annoyingly charming way and she was happy that he seemed happy, so Y/N kept her lips sealed.

Remus suggested drowning him in the bottles of love potions littering the castle but Y/N thought differently. James already acted like what a love potion was rumoured to be like; he’d become unstoppable if he even caught a whiff.

4. Shockingly by the end of the day, Y/N’s bag was stuffed with cards and gifts — all filled with confessions. She rarely socialized with anyone but the girls and Marauders, so it came as a surprise.

5. And now found herself stuck in a very uncomfortable situation.

Relaxing in the lounge area by the library, James and Mary were casting spells, Lily and Y/N chatted while Remus aided Marlene, going over course material, however, her face scrunched up as she flicked through his notes.

“What does this mean,” Marlene asked after desperately trying to decipher his writing. She slid it over to him, pointing to a highlighted section. But before Remus could translate, Y/N peeked over.

“Um — Owl to Opera Glasses. This spell emits fleeting wispy white vapour from wand — point at owl — no sound will be produced.”

She sat back in her seat, snapping off a piece of chocolate before handing the rest over to Remus beside her. Everyone looked shocked.

“Erm — what?”

Mary sputtered, “How did you read that? It’s fucking scribble!”

“He’s got doctor writing.”

They waited for her to elaborate.

“My mom’s —” “MUM!” “— writing is horrid. I swear all doctor’s have awful handwriting. I spent so much time reading her medical jornals, scans, charts — to keep me busy. So comparing Remus’ writing to hers, it’s legible.”

None of them seemed to understand besides Lily and Mary. Y/N just dismissed the matter entirely, sliding back the parchment to Marlene as they went back to their quiet conversations.

“So,” Remus leant in, his head craned down to talk to her. “Doctor handwriting — I should flaunt that?”

She chuckled, “Might make you sound smarter, but you don’t need that.”

“You flatter me too much.”

“Humble, aren’t you?”

“I have to bully myself daily. Can’t let it get to my head, not like egomania over there.”

Ah yes, the thrilling saga of bullying James Potter.

But before she could add on, a shadow caught Remus’s eye before he nudged her. His head tilted over to the direction of a wall, littered with portraits and awards with Quidditch trophies. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer.”

A blond boy, young — was staring at her, blushing madly as his chest puffed out, determination trickled through every step as he neared.

Remus’ smile became impossibly large, dripping in amusement before snapping, gaining the table’s attention.

“Hi,” there was a nervous waver in his voice, but confidence in his stance. He was pale, amplifying the scarlet blush on his cheeks.

Damn, she knew what was about to happen and so did shit-eating grin Lupin.

“Hello… What’s your name.” Right, that was a good place to start. Her eyes wandered to his tie: a Ravenclaw.

“Gilderoy Lockhart,” he announced, going up to flick a strand of hair from his face, flashing her a pearly white smile. “I’m in first year.” In his small hands, he outstretched his arms holding a box of chocolates — identical to the one Remus received a few days ago along with a meticulously crafted letter.

“You’reveryprettysowillyoubemyValentine?”

James, Mary and Marlene let out an involuntary snort which had all of them leaning into one another to support themselves from toppling over. Lily had to cast Silencio over them. They turned their heads away from Gilderoy before barking out silent merriment. Remus was the complete opposite, thankfully, as he remained poised, face void but his lips quivered upwards.

“Um… right... well,” she stalled. Maybe she should get up, take the boy elsewhere to softly let him down. “Thank you, I appreciate it a lot. But er… I can’t accept your feelings. Thank you for telling me, though. I appreciate it.”

“What?! Why!” He demanded. His face turned a deeper shade of pink, now causing a scene.

She made eye contact with Lily, however, James’ hand hammered down on the table, startling them all. His two hands formed pointed tips, mimicking two people kissing as he repeated the motion, pointing to her and Remus. Mary took the opportunity to grab Lily’s wrist, flicking a reversal charm on all of them.

“She’s dating Lupin!” She shouted which caught the attention of a few onlookers. James tossed his head back, knuckles in his mouth and Lily’s brow rose high in a startled grimace.

“For a month now!” Marlene continued, her hand slapping down on her thigh.

Y/N was going to murder them.

She went to open her mouth to say — well, okay, she didn’t know what to say but Remus budded in, lifting his arm, wrapping it around her shoulder and pulled her in awkwardly. She instantly got the hint, bringing a hand and patted his chest stiffly while the group tried not to bellow. Even Lily’s facade was beginning to break, her hand shooting up to cover a growing smile.

There was never a boring day at Hogwarts.

But she was taking too long to answer. This would've been quick, easy, had not everyone else been around and especially if they hadn’t lied about her dating.

“I’m sorry but yes, we’ve been together for a little while now, haven’t we, darling?” said Remus, saving her from the hesitation. Y/N nodded, at least she didn’t need to give a reason now.

Remus’ lying was exceptional. There wasn’t even a flicker in his expressions aside from the involuntary dark blush that ran down his cheeks to his neck. Y/N couldn’t blame him, her face felt like it was on fire.

Gilderoy tried to play it off coolly but his shoulders slumped, looking absolutely dispirited. He meekly nodded, placing the box and letter on the table and sped off.

“Cougar L/N!” Marlene roared once he was out of earshot.

“You lot are ruthless!” She barked at them.

“I did nothing!”

“Lied to a poor boy!” Lily lectured sharply.

“And she went along with it!” “Because you —”

While everyone was now bickering or on the verge of tears, Remus peeled himself off of her and Y/N patted him once more.

“You’re welcome.”

She looked up at him, “Darling? Really?”

His eyes rolled, “Did you want me to call you a troll?”

“Got me there, thank you.”

His face softened at this, shoving her in a teasing way before seizing the small box of chocolates, cracking it open and handed her a piece.

“What?” he smirked, moving to open a book, flipping to his worn-out bookmark. He side-eyed her uncomfortable expression as she looked at the box. He recited her words, “Expensive chocolate is still expensive chocolate.”

“You’re a dick.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

February 17th, 1976

Y/N quickly learned that it was a mistake using the excuse that she and Lupin were dating because now the entire school believed it.

It spread like wildfire. Girls rejected by Remus shot her a hardened gaze, eyes scorned through her robes while other’s who confessed to Y/N avoided her completely. They would all gossip the moment they passed the hallways and she could feel their gaze.

“Lupin beat me to it!”

“— how long have they’ve been —”

“I’ve fancied him for two years! Two years and she suddenly just swoops in?!”

“Honestly, I thought she was with Potter.”

“She’s hot.” “He's fit!”

“— jealous of her —”

“Crikey — don’t they have anything else to talk about?” Remus said, turning away from the hall.

Remus disappeared for the past couple of days, only now hearing the commotion for the first time. He looked fairly pale, eyes red and tired — but not unusual. Y/N shrugged off the rumours and speculations before entering the hall, shouting to him to wait.

Many students stopped their gossiping for a moment to watch her pass before resuming. She marched up to her customary seat, her friends whistling at her.

“Where’s Remus L/N?”

“Mrs. Lupin!”

“Fuck off.”

She shoved snacks into her bag, hoarding enough food for the both of them and managed to grab a giant mug filled with coffee, making her way out of the hall with a few people loitering after her. James forcibly brought Sirius to his feet, Peter leaped over and Lily sprang up from Marlene, cutting her off while looping her arm with Y/N’s.

Mary elected to stay back, engrossed in a chat with Dorcas and Alice before quickly roping Marlene in. Nevertheless, she shouted once she saw the coffee mug, “That’s for Lupin, isn’t it?!”

“Don’t start… it’s just coffee.”

“Black coffee my arse!”

James ran up to her, tugging on her robes lightly, “Does this mean I should swap my Galleons to Lupin?”

Y/N shrugged him off, stomping over to Remus waiting by the door. She handed him the mug, glancing back in hopes of Celeste: no letter from her mother, again. She sighed before hauling the rest of the group to Kettleburn's classroom. This time, empty but always open for students to come and go. Even a sign was plastered on the entrance: Hold a Niffler if feeling down! (BEWARE of theft).

“Sneaking off like this is going to fuel more rumours,” said Lily, settling her things down on the desks beside her.

“Sorry Whiskers — Moony!”

Remus cracked his fingers, a long breathy sigh trickled from him slowly. “We should mitch lessons today — let it cool down for a bit.”

“Mitch?”

“Skip classes —”

“Moony is possibly the worst prefect in Hogwarts History — he deserves a gold star for it,” chuckled Peter.

Sirius grinned and the two made brief eye contact but neither looked away until James’ voice rang out again. It made Y/N's skin go warm.

“Mate’s going for a record.”

Sirius went to scratch the back of his neck, his head turning down to fiddle with his rings out of habit. “Maybe they’ll put him in the next printed copies of

Hogwarts: A History.”

Remus rolled his eyes, fixing his posture to sit straighter. “Ungrateful gits. All I hear are three wannabe detention attendees. You ought to be thanking me. With what you pull, I could easily give you two years worth of ‘em.”

A collective sigh went around from the boys who seemed to bow their heads in mutual respect. They grouped and drawled, “Thank you, Moonyyy!”

Lily turned to her, “I’m sorry, but you’re not skipping.”

Her voice automatically switched at the mention of class; it went strict and firm and eerily sounded like Professor McGonagall which had Y/N double down.

Once the bell rang, Sirius quickly walked up to her, taking the place of Lily.

“Fine, we’ll keep the Puffskein in my dorm.”

She considered him for a moment. “I’ll visit daily.”

“Jolly.”

He sped up, hooking an arm around James’ shoulders as they headed to Potions. Y/N's eyes followed him, unable to look away and her heart dropped.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

“The Draught of Peace is a potion that often comes up on the Ordinary Wizarding Level. As you know from review, it calms anxiety and high levels of agitation. It’s been used to calm students who are too stressed with NEWT exams.

“And today,” Slughorn says, trying to look cheerful but failing — looking far too stiff and forced, “ We'll attempt to brew it.”

Lily sat up bolt-straight, eager to soak in new information. Instead of sitting with Lily today, she took a seat in between Remus and James, Lily with Snape.

“The instructions are up on the board, if you have any questions, ask away. Be warned though; be too heavy-handed — mix too fast and you’ll end up with a potion that would make the consumer fall into an irreversible sleep.

“You will be graded on your progress once finished.” He flicked his wand, opening all of the student’s textbooks to an ingredients page, unlocked the cupboard and turned back, “You have until the end of the class, begin my pupils!”

“Sluggys lookin’ pretty sluggishly today,” whispered Lily as they met briefly while collecting their ingredients.

Slughorn did look a little down. His face and voice were desolate, missing its happy chiper.

“Whiskers, I have everything already, don’t worry about it!” James beckoned.

The potion, in her opinion, wasn’t as hard as she predicted it to be. She was doing quite well, better than Lily and Remus which gave her a small sense of pride.

“So, Prongs, when are we going to get to meet Emmeline?”

James didn’t look up from his fiddly potion, too engaged but there was a small grin on his face. “We’re trying to take it slow —” “Pfft,” interjected Remus, “James Potter and slow — in a relationship? Doubt it. Did your Veela powers run out?”

“Hey! I like her and I don’t want her to run off or feel pressured.”

“Ah, what a gentleman, isn’t he Lupin?”

“Quite.”

James shook his head, “You shouldn’t be talking. Shouldn’t you lovebirds be on a date yoursel — Merlin! Moony don’t do that!”

Remus flicked his wand before a handful of leftover powdered moonstone fell on top of James’ head, giving him an iridescent appearance.

Y/N ignored them, stirring clockwise, then counterclockwise, simmering the heat down to the perfect level for seven minutes, then added in two drops of syrup of hellebore. A shimmery silver mist stemmed from her cauldron. A satisfied smirk settled it’s way on her face before scanning the class. Nobody else, besides Remus and Snape who’d been adding their finishing touches, was done.

Just as James was about to finish his perfectly brewed potion, a small beam was directed at his cauldron, ruining the entire potion as it sputtered multicoloured sparks. He tried to prod at the flames at the base of the cauldron, trying to cool it down but it was already too late. It soon became a thick, muddy concrete mixture.

“What the fuck? You guys saw that, right?!”

They had indeed seen a spell hit his cauldron. Their heads whipped around in search. With only ten minutes left and James’ grades about to drop, they all panicked slightly. If his marks were to drop below a certain level, James would be in jeopardy of losing his Quidditch title as captain and be forced to step down, focusing more on the OWLs.

Remus spotted them first: “It’s Snape.”

“How do you know?”

He didn’t respond, leaving them to follow his line of vision to look. Snape wore a horrible smirk, going as far as to wink at James. His perfectly brewed potion shimmered in the light before whirling around to talk to Lily.

“Fucking Snivellus,” James muttered tensley.

“Alright, in five minutes, I’ll be coming around to look at your potions! Be ready to present them.” Slughorn announced.

Remus sighed. “Prongs, just take mine — I’ll take yours. My grades are high enough but if yours drop —”

“No Moony,” he stated firmly. “I’m not going to let you go down with me.”

Distracted, Snape blushing like a fool to Lily and the boys fighting over Remus’ endeavour at being noble, Y/N swished her wand, levitating Jame’s cauldron and directed it over to Snape. She bewitched a temporary invisibility charm, switching them, before levitating Snape's back to James. Now, in front of James was a flawlessly brewed Draught of Peace.

“James, take my help —” “I said no you wanker!”

Slughorn was making rounds around the classroom, but Snape beckoned him over to his shared table with Lily, confident as he sent a nasty look to them.

“Evans, looking good! Perfectly brewed — I’ll add an extra point on your mark.” The praise did not go unnoticed as her chest puffed with pride, her head turning and locked eyes with Y/N, a large smile on her face.

Nice! Y/N mouthed, a thumb sticking upwards.

“Now lets — Severus!” exclaimed Slughorn, flashes of surprise shot through him, “What happened? This is so unlike you.”

The Slytherins in the class all looked up — scratch that — everyone in the class snapped their heads towards him; Snape had never once messed up a potion. They watched as Snape’s face fell from his smug smirk as a black stemming, multicoloured, cloud of smoke puffed in the air, making the surrounding students cough.

“Sir — I swear it was fine moments ago, I don’t know what happened! It must’ve —”

Their professor sighed, a very disappointed look crossed his face before shaking his head.

“It’s quite alright, Mr. Snape. Accidents happen. Evanesco.”

The contents, including the puff of smoke, vanished, leaving Snape to gape around. Lily touched his shoulder, rubbing her hand up and down and began murmuring into his ear.

But before Slughorn could go to another group, Y/N raised her hand, flagging him down while the rest of the class was still paying attention. “Professor! We would like for you to clear us, please!”

“Whiskers, what are you doing?”

“Trust me.”

“Look at what she did with your cauldron,” Remus mumbled, his eyes darting to her.

Complete surprise and utter awe replaced his face as Slughorn let out an excited squeal. His hands clapped together. “Everyone should take a page from Potter, L/N and Lupin. I’ve never seen such great work for this potion! Amazing you three! Ten points for Gryffindor.”

Their heads whipped towards her, Remus just smiled while James stared wide-eyed.

“You love to underestimate me.”

102 notes · View notes

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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